#i didn't even hate working retail

[elkian]

The shortest job I ever worked was a factory floor for a multi-billion dollar company, pioneer and near-monopolizer of its industry. It made machines that sold for $7 million a pop to start, and the month before I started there was a major controversy about removing the free coffee from the break rooms.

Coffee was the only free thing there. There were (overpriced) snacks, and there were actually decent cafeteria meals. However, I worked the night shift, and the cafeteria was blatantly scheduled to feed the day crew. It closed and cleaned up less than an hour after 2nd shift's lunch. Everything available was leftovers.

It paid the best of any job I ever worked, and that was on top of the overtime bonus - because it was 60 hour work weeks.

Every single person building the multimillion dollar machines was from a temp agency, myself included.

My station had half the tools it was supposed to. Half. I saw my manager all of twice the entire time I was there. People bought their own tools to bring to the multi-billion dollar build floor to work on borderline one-of-a-kind industry machinery because you couldn't get your boss to buy a fucking screwdriver. Half my attention for the entirety of my 10-hour shift was spent watching the tool chest, because there were over 300 people in full-body cover in that giant room and if someone took your tools you would never get them back. And people took your tools because they didn't have tools!

I bailed after a month. I was making over $30 an hour and I wanted to kill someone by the time my last day rolled around.

The next job I had was at a startup that paid barely over half that. The break room had an espresso machine that anyone could use, and snacks and a couple of frozen meals that you could tap (I tried to never overdo it, but the option was really nice). When I told my supervisor about the tool problem at the previous place he blurted out "that's disgusting". He did his best to make sure our tiny lab had what we needed and that problems were being communicated correctly. I could chat with my coworkers and go outside on break when I needed to and still got a ton of work done, to the point that at the end of the first week someone pointed at the orders folder and went "it's empty!?" (I was not the only new hire at the time but still a major ego boost)

If I hadn't had an unrelated injury I might have stayed there for literal years; I lasted more than 10x the time than I did at the previous place, despite the difference in pay.

It's been found over and over again in so many studies but it really hits hardest once you experience it yourself: working environment makes all the difference.

The reason people don’t want to work is that it’s just normal for them to be in bad work environments.

My issue with working at Walmart wasn’t the work itself I was doing. It was the circumstances around it. The concrete floor, lack of places to sit, having to put up with asshole customers, not getting time off for injuries, and bad pay.

If I had been given shock pads to stand on or a few chairs to rest on sometimes, if they paid me a livable amount of money and I was allowed to yell back at asshole customers, if they had given me any amount of training, I would happily work part time folding clothes all day and telling people where the swimsuit section is.

I’m a creative type. I’m a writer. I’m pretty smart, even. But if I could make a living folding shirts and listening to podcasts in one ear and helping people find the scented candles for 30 hours a week? I would. Leaves some mental space free for me to brainstorm. Lets me catch up on my reading with audiobooks.

But instead I was treated so badly by upper management and customers that I’m like legitimately a little frightened whenever I step into a Walmart now. And I only worked there for three months a few years ago.

I’m a good lower level worker. When I’m treated well. I like finishing tasks. I like being helpful. I like having some time to talk to coworkers and some time alone with my thoughts. I’m a frickin team player. And that’s how I was at my first job. I was treated well by my supervisor. I was trained. They were patient with me. I was so good at being low on the totem pole at that job because I was valued and felt like I was being listened to. I was able to sit still when there was nothing left to do which made it feel less bad when we were on a time crunch. I didn’t mind working hard at that job because it was fun even though I was doing all the low level stuff that the supervisors didn’t want do.

But at Walmart I was like that for all of two days. Then I figured out that nobody appreciated my work and if I worked in my normal people pleasing manner I’d kill myself because their standards were high and the rewards for meeting them were low.

So I slowed down. I started avoiding customers. I started taking a lot longer to get to my breaks and to come back from them. I became worse at my job because no matter how good I was at it there would be no reward, no appreciation, and I’d just be pushed further beyond my limits.

My only level of happiness from that job came from the people who were working with me. The old ladies and my department manager who made sure I wasn’t overextending myself. The one other young man working in the clothing department who always got sent with me to unload the heavy stuff and commiserated with me about the shoulder injuries, the hurting feet we were too young to have.

But none of that was enough to make me stay. We were constantly understaffed. I was constantly abused by customers and not able to do a thing about it. I was not paid much at all. So as soon as I had enough saved up for what I was trying to do and my last semester of college was about to start I handed in my two weeks.

I would have found a way to stay if I liked that job. If I liked that job I would’ve pushed myself to my mental limits to finish college and keep that job at the same time. Heck that job could’ve been a rest from college. A place to get away from it. But I hate that job so I got out as soon as I could.

I want to work. I want enough money to live sort of comfortably. I want to have some tasks to do to give my creativity a rest. I want to be a part of something. But the way that modern corporate run work environments are set up does not give me any of the things I actually want out of a job. And I think that’s the same for millions of people right now. A lot of people would happily spend their lives as a waitress or an Uber driver or a warehouse worker or a farmhand or any other “low skill” job you can possibly think of. But with the way the world works right now those jobs are absolutely miserable. It doesn’t have to be that way. I know because I’ve had a fulfilling part time minimum wage job that I looked forward to going to every week. A job where I was listened to and allowed to sit when I needed to. I miss that job. Especially now since I’ve realized that’s not the standard. It should be. People should look forward to going to work or at the very least not get mild ptsd whenever they set foot into a Walmart.

[bobmckenzie]

HONESTLY getting a new f/o couldn't have come at a better time bc these holiday hours are killing me.... I know the next 8 weeks are about to Suck Ass and i'm just gonna be clinging onto Billy to get through it lol 😭 just gotta focus on all the excitement and fun of having a new f/o to flesh out lore with and make headcanons for...

[msfcatlover]

*points at Jean-Paul Valley* THE MOST DISAPPOINTING THING ABOUT THIS MAN IS THAT HE ISN'T CANONICALLY "The Normal One(TM)"

[milo-melon]

Been really exhausted from work lately hense much more reblogs than anything else will likely continue through the holiday season till drivers ed starts and there's even more kicking my ass so rip to anyone who followed for my rare original content (long venting in tags)

[iamespecter]

Whats your tadc au? :3

Uh- that's too vague of a question, so I'll just list all five- ~~~~~~~~~~~

'The Suspenseful Digital Mystery' AU Status: hiatus

plot:

There are rumors amongst the less fortunate about a mysterious mansion inviting wealthy people, and urging them to bring a plus one for a sophisticated social gathering. There's a lot of weird rules: 1) DON'T say your real name. 2) wear the mask and outfit provided to you. 3) What happens in the mansion, STAYS in the mansion. They even say that by the time midnight strikes and you didn't venture outside the grounds by then, you disappear to god knows where. Thankfully, 6 people thought it's all just a dumb rumor.... right?

'An Unexpected "Reunion"!' AU Status: ongoing (I just have writer's block for Chapter 7-)

plot:

Pom- no. That's not her name anymore. Pauline Agbayani manages to find a way out of the tormenting existence known as 'The Amazing Digital Circus'. Attempting to return to normalcy in her life while figuring out how to find her circus friends, and bringing down the company that brought about her worst experiences in life, she meets an unexpected man with red hair, mismatched eyes, and that grating showman voice she knows all too well... Working a 9 to 5 job in a retail store? What the hell is happening??

'The Marvelous Mechanical Harlequin' AU Status: VERY active

plot:

After the attempt of taking the infamous Puppetmaster's life goes awry due to a stalemate, Pomni, the Last Harlequin, finds herself in a strange position of helping him out a year later on his even stranger mission: Gathering the hearts of crazed Puppets. Things start to change between them when she suffers her first of many deaths, which unbeknownst to her, sets up a domino effect that leads to her discovering something about herself, the man she allies with, and a third party who seems hellbent on capturing her.

'Digital Nightmares' AU Status: semi-active

plot:

Picture this. You find a strange headset that compels you to wear it. Next thing you know, you're in an another world full of monsters, and now you're just as small as you feel. You run, you jump, you duck out of reach, and hide. Repeat. Thankfully, you're no longer alone, for you meet another fellow about the same size as you. Find a way out. Avoid traps and foes. And most of all... Don't give in to the call.

'Circustaker' AU status: under progress lmao

plot:

Pomni wants a harem of hot circus demon girls, so Pomni gets a harem of hot circus demon girls. This is a Helltaker x TADC AU born out of spite, due to the hate against Jesterdoll on ep 3. What better way to fight homophobia with, than making a big wlw polyamory group? :)

I genuinely had no idea what you meant by that question, so here's all five of my current TADC AUs, even the underdeveloped Circustaker one lmao

[randomitemdrop]

you've posted a few ai generated images as items lately, and i'm wondering if that's intentional or not?

Short answer: no, it wasn't. Aside from a few I made when the generators first became publicly available and all the images were gooey messes, they've all been reader-submitted, although I'll admit I didn't catch the snail-boots. Personally I think AI image generators are a more nuanced situation than a lot of opinions I've seen on Tumblr, but given that they can be used so evilly, I'm steering away from them, if only to avoid the Wrath of the Disk Horse.

Long answer, and this is just my take, if you want to really get into it you'll have a much more interesting conversation with the people with devoted AI art blogs instead of me occasionally sharing things people submit:

There have been some major cases of unethical uses for it, but I think it's important to remember why AI image generators are such an issue; data scraping and regurgitating uncredited indie art is bad, but in the case of the snail-boots, it was just a fusion of one dataset of "product photos of boots" and another of "nature photos of snails", which I would say is not depriving anyone of credit or recognition for their work (MAYBE photographers, if you're a professional nature photographer or really attached to a picture you took of a snail one time?) I get the potential misuses of it, but when Photoshop made it easy to manipulate photos, the response was "hmm let's try and use this ethically" instead of "let's ban photo editing software". Like, I'd feel pretty unethical prompting it with "[character name] as illustrated by [Tumblr illustrator desperate for commissions]" or even "[character name] in DeviantArt style", but I'd have a hard time feeling bad for prompting with "product photo of a Transformer toy that turns into the Oscar Meyer Wienermobile". I know there's the question of "normalizing" the services but I think that overestimates how much the techbros running these things care about how everyday consumers use their free products, preferring to put their effort towards convincing companies to hire them to generate images for them, and in that case they respond way better to "here are some ways to change your product so that I would be willing to use it" than to "I will never use your product". For example here's one I just made of "the holy relic department at Big Lots", fusing corporate retail photos and museum storage rooms.

TL/DR: on the one hand I understand the hate that AI gets and it's not something I'm planning on using for any of my creative projects, but on the other hand I think it's overly simplistic to say it's inherently bad and should never be used ever. On the third hand, I really hate participating in arguments over complex ethical philosophy, so I'm just gonna steer clear entirely.

[emeritusemeritus]

omg! saw your requests opening, glad to see you writing and I’ve read nearly all of your works! your writing style and fics inspired me to write more and motivate me so I thank thee for that!

i didn’t know if I would be able to request something like this, but you be willing to write something for both of the Weasley twins? you come home from a bad day, it was absolutely horrendous and overwhelming and you just want to forget about it. would you be able to write both of the Weasley twins willing to blow their mind away in bed to try to make them forget about their day? 🙌

Hi lovely Anon! Thank you so much for your kind words, I’m so glad I could inspire you to write more, I’d love to read your work! I hope it’s okay that I added a little Christmas twist. Hope you enjoy! P.s. my own personal headcanon is that Angelina would become a healer after hogwarts, so I made the reader a healer too🖤

Warnings: where do I start… smut, pinv sex, graphic smut, oral (both), fingering, masturbation, slight sub/dom elements, rough sex, overstimulation. Threesomes (no twincest) Readers feeling a bit of a grinch. Healer reader. Christmas stress. Can you tell I’ve worked retail with how much I hate Christmas crowds. Not spellchecker nor beta read.

Word count: 6.7k (some of it is plot I swear)

Fairytale of Diagon Alley

You were turning into the Grinch.

It appeared that when you had kissed your boyfriend's goodbye this morning upon leaving your shared flat above the shop, you had also kissed goodbye to your good mood and any semblance of patience you had left.

There were people everywhere, the whole street of Diagon Alley was packed with frantic christmas shoppers wanting those last minute bargains, forgetting all of their manners and regular etiquette as their heads filled with 'what to get little Timmy' and how Flourish and Botts hadn't even started their sales yet, Godric forbid.

You pushed through the brainless crowds, cringing at the attention you were receiving having walked out of the closed store, protests of unfairness echoing through the street as if you were some VIP patron with early access before the store had opened.   The line of people waiting for Wheezes to open was eye watering and you felt a complex mixture of happiness and sadness for your boyfriends knowing that they would have such a busy day once again, though business would be booming and they'd inevitably make a killing. They'd been exhausted these last few weeks, working extra hours to accommodate the expanse of people whilst importing more stock than ever to see them through peak trade. They'd started the sale two days ago, an offer of buy 3 get 1 free that had skyrocketed sales and had plunged through their stock even quicker than expended, leading to more light nights spent dealing with manufacturers and suppliers to rush through more orders. They did it all with a smile, so warm and welcoming to each customer that it filled you with awe seeing them, knowing that they were running on very little sleep.

You simply huddled down, pulling your coat tighter against your collar to ward off the biting cold and pushed through the crowds with facetious attempts of politeness as you muttered excuse me repeatedly , trying to make your way out of the crowded street. Christmas music was blaring out from the cafe at the top of the street and you cringed as you walked past, the volume almost deafening.

It didn't cheer you, not today. You were just overwhelmed by the amount of people, overstimulated by the ridiculous noise of the music and the constant chatter around you as you were just trying to make your way to work for what you knew would almost certainly be another dreadful day.

You paused outside the entrance to the abandoned looking department store Purge and Dowse Ltd, heaving a heavy sigh to prepare you for the day, having successfully made it through the crowds... eventually. You loved your job usually, but something about Christmas time just seemed to make people more stupid, less careful and much more irate.

The welcome witch was unpleasant as ever as you stepped into the entrance of the building, seeing a bustling waiting room of people with various maladies and injuries that were certain to keep you on your toes today.

"St Mungo's hospital for magical maladies and injuries," the receptionist Barbara welcomed the next person waiting to be booked in, her usual overly-cheery voice ringing out along the corridor, pausing her speech to wave at you warmly as you walked past. Her hair was transfigured into a Christmas tree shape though it was leaning at the top with tinsel wrapped around for good measure and a couple of illuminated lights in her hair that were flickering on and off in an uneven pattern, which you noticed she kept trying to fix with her wand though she was largely unsuccessful.

"Ready for another fun day?" Angelina asks sarcastically as you change into your uniform, casting the usual enchantments upon the regulated clothes to protect them from all manner of horrors. Knowing that you don't have to hide your real emotions from Angelina, you sigh and let out a long whinge, resting your head dramatically on her shoulder. She laughs whilst stroking your hair, the two of you sharing a moment together as you prepare for the day, enormously thankful that at least your best friend would be on the same shift as you today, both of you successful in following your calling to become a healer.

"Just think, 12 hours to go and you'll be back fighting your way back to the flat through the Christmas crowds!"

The whinge that fell from your lips was louder and longer than the first and held nothing back of how you truly felt.

Angelina didn't need to be part seer to foresee the future but she sure got it right in predicting with almost perfect accuracy the horror of Diagon Alley upon your return. If anything, she had downplayed the horror of your return as it seemed even busier than this morning, with people covering almost every square inch of the cobbled street. You briefly wondered if everyone stood on a singular cobble, if there'd be any room at all for more people.

Children were squealing with excitement, some crying at the top of their lungs about being denied early gifts. Three boys in the corner near Fortescue's had found a small patch of untouched snow and were crafting snowballs to throw at each other though their sense of aim was way off and had instead found it much more enjoyable to cast the snowballs into the crowd to hit unsuspecting shoppers who most appeared indifferent to the attacks, probably not even noticing.

It was sheer mayhem and all you could think of was getting home, taking a bath and soaking away the stresses of your very long day. It had been none stop from the second you arrived on the ward, with new challenges and issues that often rendered you speechless. You were beyond stressed and weary, the long days and the disregulation of routine completely throwing you off. You'd barely spent any time with your boyfriends these past weeks, even after they'd employed temporary staff over the busy period. The flat was increasing in mess and clutter everyday and you found yourself caring less everyday, completely void of motivation. Presents needed to be wrapped, some still left to be bought, Christmas cards to be written, food to be ordered and collected. You needed to confirm with Molly what time you'd be arriving on Christmas Eve, the plan on everyone staying at the Burrow in their old bedrooms ready for a big family Christmas seeming more and more welcoming with each passing day as you craved simpler times, away from the stresses of an adult Christmas. You lamented the days at Hogwarts when everything was easy, when it was just you, the twins and your friends around a perfectly elf-prepared Christmas dinner with gifts that were more gestures of love before money and being an adult ruined everything.

Your feet were hurting, you were exhausted, you were sick of fighting through crowds morning and night each time you left the flat. You needed to sort the Floo network but each and every time you resolved yourself to asking Fred to have a look, you'd see him walk in exhausted and the request would fall from your lips upon seeing the deepening purple bags under his eyes. You didn't know the first thing about floo networks or where to even start on fixing it or asking someone to look so you left it alone, the entire thought process dropping from your mind the second you were home every time without fail until you were faced with the unpleasant crowd once again.

The sights and sounds of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes flooded out into the dark street like a lighthouse at sea, the bacon of light that guided you home. As overwhelmingly pleased as you were to see it in all its glory, knowing you were so close to being home you were also a little downtrodden at the sight of so many people still out shopping. The closer you got, you could see George on the third floor near the explosives section, helping yet another customer with their purchases as he pointed out various whizzbangs on the wall between Fred's blaze box and George's compendium box of pyrotechtrix. You couldn't see Fred anywhere but you could spot Verity through the window looking frazzled at the till. You snook around the back and let yourself in with the appropriate charms, begrudgingly taking each painful step up the back staircase near the storeroom to make your way to the flat, the noise and the bustle from the shop falling silent as soon as the door was closed.

You sighed in relief as you toed off your shoes and hung up your bag and coat, suddenly overwhelmed by the sheer number of layers that you were wearing as you frantically unwrapped your scarf and tugged off your hat with very little care of what your hair looked like underneath. You wanted to make a cup of tea but couldn't even muster the energy even with magic and so you walked straight to the bathroom and began running a bath, ignoring any messes you could see along the way.

You pulled off your clothes with determination, desperate to rid yourself of the day and soak in the bath full of bubbles. The bath was huge, one of the many benefits of being in love with two very tall men who had both insisted on a bathtub that could accommodate their whole bodies without question.

You lit a candle and placed it on the windowsill to illuminate the room, praying that the outline of your naked figure couldn't be seen by all of Diagon Alley.

Slipping into the hot bath felt like heaven. Your skin was pleasantly tingling from the warmth and you felt your eyes closing instinctively as you head tilted back to rest on the edge of the tub. You felt soothed, both in body and soul as you sank deeper into the water, finally finding peace in your day.

You don't know how long you are lay there floating somewhere between relaxed and dozing until you heard a gentle knock on the bathroom door.

"Well this is a welcomed sight," you hear George say as he steps into the bathroom after you'd told him to enter. He looks tired but happy, his eyes roaming over you in the bath, no doubt trying to see exactly how much of your body was covered by the bubbles. You smile, holding your hand out for him to take as you look up to him with heavy eyes.

"You should have joined me," you smile, knowing that it wouldn't have even been an option, but it was nice to think of.

"I'd have burned down the shop to have jumped in there with you," he says with a deep chuckle, perching on the side of the tub with you, his hand still holding yours.

"You're going to get wet," you say as a soft warning, eyes roaming over his work suit.

"Don't care," he replies quickly, his other hand scooping up some of the extra bubbles, eyes lighting up with mischief as he suddenly blows the bubbles back towards you. You squeal seeing the bubbles flying towards your face and flail slightly to get your face away from the incoming bubbles as George laughs.

"Hello ladies," George smirks, staring at your breasts as they become exposed by your flailing, the bubbles no longer concealing you. Your eyes widen and you scramble to cover your chest with your arms instinctively.

"Angel," he says, one brow slightly raising as he reaches to stroke your concealing arm, gently beginning to pull it away from you, though his touch is gentle enough for you to keep it there if you're uncomfortable. "I've been looking at these pretty tits for years, don't go shy on me now."

With the look in his eye and his smooth voice, you're helpless to resist and pull your arm away from your body with a slight bite of your lip. Seeing his eyes feast upon your exposed chest is instantly arousing, your naked form so vulnerable to his fully clothed self. The mood in the small room has shifted almost instantly, the calm and peaceful atmosphere now filled with a need, the tension between you both so overwhelming. His eyes are half lidded but it's no longer from tiredness as he looks up to your eyes again, pausing as if he's considering his next move before he leans forward, capturing your lips in a dangerously loaded kiss. You want to reach out for him, to run your fingers through his hair and pull him closer to you by his tie but you're wet through and you'd inevitably soak his favourite suit.

"George! Where are you, you're needed out here!" You hear Fred calling up the stairs and pull apart, a quiet sigh of disappointment falling from your lips as your shoulders sink like a deflated balloons. George growls as he pulls away, his head resting on yours with his eyes still closed, evidently we wound up and frustrated as you by the sudden interruption.

"Hold that thought baby okay? 30 minutes and we're all yours, I want you right here when I'm done."

With one last smirk and a delicate kiss placed upon your forehead, George steps out of the bathroom and closes the door behind him.

You throw your head back onto the side of the tub in frustration, arousal swirling through your body with no outlet now to relieve that need. The thought of having to wait for at least another half an hour was killing you but there was nothing you could do about it.

You tried to stay in the bath just as George had requested but you found yourself growing cold even after enchanting the water back up to the warmth of before once again but you were no longer relaxed, unable to find that sense of peace. You were too wound up, too aware of your naked body, the hardening of your nipples and the ache between your thighs that seemed to be calling out to you for relief.

You heaved yourself out of the bath with a frustrated groan, not even sure what you were annoyed at. Before George had walked in you'd been perfectly content to just lie there and put your day behind you. If Fred hadn't had called out for him, if the shop wasn't open so bloody late, if the customers would just go home. You were spiralling but didn't care, for once you just wanted the night to go how you wanted it to go, for your needs to be met and to come first for a change. Groping for the towel, you quickly dried yourself off and walked into the bedroom, cursing Merlin under your breath at the state of the room. Wardrobe doors left open with various ties scattered around as if someone had been looking for a specific one this morning and simply discarded all the rest. Your pyjamas from last night were thrown in a pile in the corner of the room, the bed wasn't made and various pieces of clutter decorated the vanity that had become a dumping ground for all three of you. You cursed again when you stepped on the corner of a pin badge, one of the many iconic 'W' badges that your husbands wore in the shop discarded on the floor. You reached for your wand and cast numerous cleaning charms, not even caring on how they would clash, just praying that they would sort out the room.

You threw on your comfiest, baggiest clothes and threw the towel towards the rough direction of the bathroom, watching briefly as it got caught up in the crossfire of the charms you'd used.

Gone were the thoughts of a quiet night or any hope of some stress relief fucking that you'd so desperately needed. Apparently your lack of sexual relief had caused you to become increasingly frustrated and short, your lip fixed into a near permanent pout as you sulked about your day. You wouldn't entertain ideas of making dinner, despite your stomachs grumbling protest and opted instead to flip down onto the sofa, pull out your book and ignore the rest of the world- especially the 'Christmas to do list' that lay infront of you almost mockingly on the coffee table.

"You were meant to be in the bath sweet girl," George says as both he and Fred entered the flat after close. Your eyes flicker up to the clock on the wall and saw that it had not been thirty minutes as promised but instead it had taken nearly double that for George to get back to you. You don't reply, only offering a noncommittal shrug as you fix your eyes back to your book, rereading the same sentence for the third time.

"Hey princess, good day?" Fred asks as he throws himself down onto the sofa beside you, arm immediately reaching across the back to where his fingers reach out to run your shoulder.

"Busy."

"Tell me about it," Fred answers, reaching up with his spare hand to undo his top button and loosen his tie, missing the true meaning of your words completely. "So what's for tea?"

You slam your book down onto the coffee table and march off towards the bedroom without a single word, barely holding in your groan of annoyance at his lack of sensitivity. It wasn't just down to you to think about meals all the time, to do the bloody shopping and start preparing a meal when you'd already worked twelve hours, having to fight through the stupid crowds morning noon and night just to go about your day. You knew they'd had a long day too but it didn't trump yours, didn't mean that they automatically got a pass from adulting because they'd been working hard because you had too.

"Angel?"

You rolled your eyes, knowing what was coming. You didn't answer, hoping that George would just go away. You didn't want sensitivity or broken promises right now, you didn't really know what you wanted but you knew that if George came in here to try and reason with you, you'd go mad.

The second he slips through the door, you know that you'd gotten it very wrong. He wasn't coming to reconcile or to ask you what was wrong to fix the issue, instead his eyes told a completely other story.

"Where did my sweet girl go?" He says, eyes fixed hard as he looks at you, suddenly seeming to be even taller than you pictured. "I kept you waiting too long."

You don't reply, knowing that you'd only say something that you'd later regret.

"I agree it was mean of me, getting you all worked up and leaving you like that, so beautiful and needy."

He knew exactly what he was doing, and unfortunately for your pride, it was working.

He moves closer to you now, his firm towering over you as you sit on the edge of the bed where you'd slumped down, neck craned to stare up at him with a look that is softening more with every passing second.

"But there question is," he says as he squats down in front of you, your eyes lining up once again as you threaten to cower under his blazing eyes and dangerous smirk. "How needy are you?"

You can't help it, your chest heaves at the very same time you have to swallow down your nervous energy, altering George to how well his words were affecting you.

"That bad huh?" You don't know if you want to slap or kiss that smirk off his smug face but all you know is that the fire from earlier had been reignited in the most sinful way possible.

"You think Freddie could help with that too?"

At the very mention of your other boyfriend, you feel your eyes widen slightly with the sudden influx of sinful possibilities crossing your mind, your need and arousal doubling as you fight the need to squirm under his forceful gaze. You nod gently, hardly daring to look away from his mesmerising eyes, your breathing rapidly increasing though it's shallow breaths only.

"You need us to fuck away your day sweetheart?" A second voice says from the side, alerting you to the presence of your other love, his eyes just as fiery as his words. You nod again, biting your lip under the scrutiny of them both.

"Words princess," Fred warns, eyes dark as he prowls over to you.

"Please," you say as if on command, submitting to them so willingly that it's almost alarming.

Their smirks are completely identical as they briefly share a look before turning back to you, stalking closer and capturing you in their arms. George attacks your lips again, his tongue snaking around your lips before mingling with yours in a sinful battle of dominance that he inevitably wins. Fred's lips attack your neck as he joins you on the bed, hands snaking around your waist and up to your breasts where he cups and squeezes with just enough pressure that you gasp onto George's lips. Your hips begin to cant on their own accord, too aroused for you to remain stationary as their hands begin to wander. George's hands replace Fred's on your breasts, his favourite place to play on the wonderland of your body whilst Fred's begin to stroke across your legs, caressing your thighs through your baggy clothes that you deeply regretted wearing.

George pulls away from your lips and tits for only a second as he rips your oversized shirt over your head, leaving your tits exposed to him once again. His eyes glaze over as he looks at your bountiful flesh, his eyes tracing the curves of your body and fixating upon your rosy nipples, so hard and aching for his mouth. You cry out when you feel Fred's big hands snaking around your waist and reaching to cup your breasts, squeezing them together and raising them up for George to take into his mouth, his full lips wrapping around your bud as his tongue pokes out to circle it seductively.

"I want you naked beautiful girl," Fred whispers in your ear, his right hand beginning to toy with the waistband of your sweatpants, long fingers edging closer to your heated core with every stroke.

"Please."

George pulls away from your breasts once again and gives you a devilish smirk as his fingers reach into the top of your waist band whilst Fred pulls you back to recline on him as he slips behind you on the bed. They share a brief look of utter mischief before George rips your sweatpants away from your body leaving you completely exposed to their eyes.

Your legs squeeze together as you look between the three of you, seeing them both still fully dressed in their suits with you wearing nothing but a smile between them, like the prey and the predators together.

Fred's lips trace the lines of your ear down to your neck and your chest rises, back arching in pleasure which seems to welcome George back to caressing your tits, his mouth latching back onto the hardened buds. He breaks away from sucking on your nipples to press a line of kisses up the column of your throat until he captured your lips in a blazing kiss once again, his hands caressing your breasts now instead of his mouth.

"Don't know about you mate, I reckon she's soaking wet for us," Fred says to George almost mockingly, as if you're not lay between them.

"Oh I know she is mate," George says as he pulls away, casting a cursory glance over at you before replying to his twin, "I can see that little pussy glistening from here."

"Ah ah ah," Fred warns with a firm grip of your thigh as your legs squeeze together to offer any relief you can find as their words catapult you towards dangerous levels of arousal.

"That was naughty," George chastises, one single finger on his right hand now trailing down the length of your body towards your core, teasing you.

"Will you be our good girl tonight?" Fred asks in your ear, the vibrations of his deep voice sending shockwaves through you.

"I'll be your good girl," you say breathlessly, needing more than what you were getting.

"Then prove it," George says, standing up in front of you and undoing his belt. You watch with rapt attention as he undoes the belt, looping it out of his trousers and throwing it off to the side, nimble fingers undoing the buttons on his tweed trousers and dragging down the zip.

Your mouth waters when you watch him reach into his underwear and pull out his hard cock, already so swollen and throbbing. You force yourself to look away from the delicious sight, up into his eyes to look for his consent, seeing his eyes dark and predatory.

He holds out his cock towards you, gripping it hard in his big hands by the base, offering it for you to take. You waste no time, slipping out of Fred's grasp to crawl forwards on the bed so that your face as near perfectly aligned with your reward. You kick a tentative stripe up from the bottom of his cock towards the tip, circling the bulbous tip and moaning when you taste the faint salty liquid already leaking from his little hole. You lap it up greedily, allowing his cock to rest on your flat tongue as your lips wrap around the entire head before giving him a long and deliberate suck. The growl that you pull from his lips only makes you want to do better, to suck his harder and take him deeper. You allow your mouth to fill with saliva, knowing how sloppy he likes it, how he likes you messy. You push him deeper into your mouth, tongue working over the sensitive veins and ridges until you open your eyes, looking up at him with big, wide eyes that you know he can't resist. His mouth is open, face contorted into pure pleasure as he pants, nose scrunched up as he watches you pleasure him. He pulls away his hand now, knowing that you can take more of his length and his now free hand reaches out to stroke your hair in a way that shows his love for you even in his dominant state.

You take him deeper still, fighting off the urge to choke as you slip him into his throat, immediately rewarded by the most delicious moans and gasps from above, his hand slipping into your hair to gather it. He doesn't force you nor guide your movements but simply holds back your hair in a way that forces you to know that he holds the power here.

Fred, who had been stroking your body as you gag on his twins cock suddenly sits up, unbuckling his own belt as he moves towards you, no longer content just to sit there and watch.

You're acutely aware of your nakedness between the two men who are still fully dressed and suddenly have a desperate urge for them to be just as naked as you, to see their perfect bodies taking yours. Defying their usual expectations, you take it upon yourself to reach out for Fred's trousers, giving a slightly pull trying to silently communicate your needs whilst still pleasuring George.

"Think our girl wants something," Fred says, the smugness in his voice allowing you to almost hear the smirk upon his face.

George's fingers tap gently on your chin and you look up at him as you pull off of his cock with a resounding 'pop', his whole body fighting off a shiver of arousal.

"What does our princess want?" George says, the dominant edge to his voice almost mocking you.

You don't answer verbally, your hands reaching up to fumble with the buttons on his waist coat, wanting his naked. He's still wearing his full suit, jacket and all except for the long cock hanging free from his unbuckled trousers. Fred's equally as clothed only without his suit jacket, sleeves rolled up to the elbows.

"You want us just as naked as you sweetheart?" Fred murmurs in your ear, hands wandering again.

"Please," you say sounding desperate, "want to see your bodies as you fuck me."

"Merlin," Fred curses behind you. George's fingers instantly hook under your chin to force you to look at him and he leans down to place a blazing kiss upon your lips with so much force that it knocks you backwards, your words clearly affecting him too.

You can hardly believe your luck when as you get to watch them undress, having a moment of confused sentimentality that this was your life, that only you were in this position. They were so similar and yet so different, even as they undressed. You watched transfixed as their braces were pulled off their bodies, shirts quickly unbuttoned by long fingers and trousers pulled down their long legs until they were bare.

"Is that better sweet girl?" George mocks, moving to stand in front of you. Fred slips back behind you on the bed, maneuvering you so that he can slide in. You can feel the prominent bulge of his erection as his rests on your hip and you fight to control the urge to squeeze your legs again, feeling largely untouched. "Now because you've been so good."

"Lean back on me darling," Fred coos in your ear, handling you backwards until you're resting against his chest, head thrown back onto his shoulder.

"Let me make you feel good."

His hands slip down over your breasts, his fingers reigniting the hardness in your nipples as his gorgoeus, veiny hands cup and squeeze your supple flesh. His fingers trail down your chest and across your tummy making you squirm, hips raising on their own accord as his fingers trail down towards your dripping core.

You gasp when you feel his fingers dip lower, legs spreading wide as you allow him access. He strokes over your outer lips, barely ghosting your pussy as he teases, touching your thighs, your outerlips- simply anywhere except where you need him.

When his finger suddenly dips within your folds, collecting the juices that are freely flowing from you and beginning to draw a line right up to your throbbing clit. You cry out as he makes contact with your clip, back arching at the pleasure as he begins to circle it slowly, knowing just how you like it.

Your eyes open and you gasp seeing George sitting directly infront of you, his hand wrapped around his cock as he slowly strokes himself, eyes fixed upon your spread pussy as Fred works his magic.

You're close to the edge already, aching for it, the teasing already too drawn out. Fred senses it right away as your breath catches in your throat, hips canting as you fight back the urge and stops his ministrations. You whine at the sudden loss of contact but stop when you feel his hands on your hip.

"You need my cock darling? I'm aching for you."

"Please Freddie," you gasp, rubbing your ass against his throbbing cock, desperate to have him inside of you.

"Up baby," he instructs, tapping your hip as he kisses your cheek. You lift your hips and Fred scoots down a little, lying flat but propped up on the pillow. He reaches down and holds up his cock for you. You stay facing away from him, lying on top whilst holding your weight on your hands as you align yourself with his gorgeous length.

You can hardly contain the moans as his tip begins to penetrate you, the tip slipping in easily with the wetness between your legs. You're breathless as you push his cock further into you, slipping down until you were taking almost every inch of his cock. He's moaning and breathing heavily underneath you as he keeps a firm hold of your hips to guide you, picking you up slightly only to bring you down a second time, his entire length inside of you. You cry out in perfect synchronisation with Fred as you begin riding his cock hard, bouncing up and down in his lap.

You feel sexy, empowered and yet submissive being so spread out and naked, completely open for George's view as he sits with his cock in his hand almost drooling as he watches you get fucked.

Fred's grip is almost bruising but it only serves as a reminder of his control over you, even if you are the one on top as he stops your hips bouncing, choosing instead to pound you from below as he keeps you still, the feel of his cock overwhelming. He bares the brunt of your weight as he forced you to lean on his chest instead of your hands. His thrusts are forceful and powerful with perfect aim as your head falls back from the overwhelming pleasure, your moans and cries unable to be contained.

You whine as you feel George join you on the bed, his hands grabbing hold of your thighs as he attempts to hold some of your weight whilst keeping you spread open for them. His lips find your clit from above, tongue running over that swollen little nub, latching on giving sharp, quick sucks. You're completely done for, the pleasure taking over your entire body.

Your walls are squeezing Fred who's moaning out your name and growling from below, long fingers still brushing your hips as his thrusts get harder as he approaches his end. George's lips suckle your clit with perfect precision, doubling your pleasure and propelling you towards your orgasm in no time at all.

"I'm, I'm," you try to warn but it's pointless, your climax ripping through your body in a fit of blinding light as you scream out Fred's name, hardly able to hold your head up any longer.

You're lost in pleasure, barely registering fred's orgasm that follows yours within seconds until you feel his cum filling you to the brim, cock lodged in you so deep that you feel he's in your tummy.

He waits for you to get your breath back before slowly pulling out of you, shifting you gently so that you're almost lay beside him, his lips pressing a cool-down kiss onto your own as you feel a stream of cum slowly leaking out.

You're breathless and panting but you still need more, turning to George with expectant eyes, seeing that he's waiting impatiently for you to come back to him.

"On your knees," he commands. You sit up onto your knees and turn away from him now, looking back towards Fred who offers you a loving smile as he leans against the headboard, giving you room.

You gasp when George's hands wrap around your hips, his fingers digging into the marks that Fred had left as he pulls your ass right up to the edge of the bed and presses a hand to the skin between your shoulder blades to push your body down. Your upper half falls forward, ass high up in the air as he grips you with force, his cock already pressed up against your core.

"George," you breathe out in desperation, too worked up for teasing.

The cry that falls from your lips sounds almost non-human as he suddenly pushes forward, his entire length slipping inside your already overworked pussy. The curve of his cock drags purposely against your inner walls and your head drops down onto your arms with the force. He shows no mercy as he pounds into you from behind, the sound of his hips slapping against your ass echoing around the room, his balls hitting your clit with every deep thrust. It's agonising pleasure and you scramble with your fingers to reach out for the duvet beneath you to ground yourself. You look up into Fred's eyes when you feel his hand entwine with yours, offering you that support you so desperately needed.

It's a delicious contrast of personality as the usual menace tenderly holds your hand tenderly in support whilst the normally more sensitive twin takes you roughly from behind. He's growling and groaning as your walls stretch and constrict with the pleasure, your body becoming quickly overstimulated as you feel tears well up in your eyes at the sheer sensory overload.

"George!" You cry out, earning a swift spank to your right bum cheek that seems to echo around the room multiple times. The force of the smack, the jarring of your nervous system and the deep growl that emits from George as your pussy clenched on him is enough to renew your arousal to heightened levels. You can feel that telltale feeling in your lower stomach rising, as if it's slowly taking over your entire body, your skin erupting in goosebumps and your hips suddenly trying to squirm against George's hold. It rises within you quickly until you're squeezing Fred's hand, clawing at the sheets and fucking yourself back onto George's cock, your orgasm erupting. You're silent this time, the slow build of the white hot heat rendering you silent.

"Fucking Merlin!" George cries out, pulling out of you and quickly pulling you down into the bed, turning you over with one slight shove to your shoulder. His fist works quickly on his cock as he looks upon your squirming body, breasts heaving as you attempt to catch your breath, legs wide open and a slight line of drool coming from your mouth. You scramble forwards, your mouth wide open for him as you look up into his eyes with a look that you know will finish him off. You watch closely as his face crumbles, eyes squeezing tightly shut as his fist moves quickly along the long column of his cock, catching against the bulbous tip that looks bright pink.

He cries out as he cums, the viscous liquid spraying your face and shooting into your waiting mouth. You taste him on your tongue, leaning forward to engulf his throbbing tip in your mouth to lick up every drop of the salty liquid that addicts you as you watch him shudder.

You fall back onto the bed in an exhausted heap, flanked by two satisfied men mere moment later who instinctively reach out to touch you, their lips pressing against your slightly sweaty hair and any skin they can reach. Fred offers you his handkerchief to wipe off your face which you gratefully accept, wiping off the quickly drying cum from your cheek.

"You did so well sweetheart," Fred murmurs into your ear, his voice soft and quiet as if speaking louder would shatter the bubble you found yourselves in.

"So good for us," George echoes, his hand reaching out to yours to entwine your fingers as you all fight to regain your usual heart rates.

You're exhausted. Unable to reply back to them no matter how many ways you want to compliment them but can't bring yourself to muster the energy to talk and so you sink down into their comforting hold in complete contentment.

"Not that I mind how it's turned out since I asked the first time," Fred suddenly says, his softness disappearing from his voice as he sounds just as mischievous as usual now. "But what's for tea?"

You smack him on the chest playfully, not wanting to answer his question.

"We could go out," George suggests. You instantly groan thinking of the crowds of people that were inevitably still shopping somewhere, all the craziness of London in general and the number of layers you'd have to put back on. You needed a bath again, cum leaking from you and onto the sheets below, your skin covered in a thin sheet of sweat and most of all you just didn't want to leave the flat again.

"We can order in," George offers, hearing your groan. "Order in and work on getting that Christmas joblist sorted, plenty we can get done before bed."

You don't answer, you simply reach down and pull the covers above your head to hide yourself, wishing it was Harry's invisibility cloak, thinking to yourself  that you'd never heard a worse idea in your life.

@ferntv

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[deathshallbethelastenemy]

where you go, i go (2)

TEEN!gojo x FEM!reader (soulmate AU)

TW⚠️: angst, toji being toji, reader thinks about killing someone, gojo is in his tweaked out enlightenment era soooooo gojo a little creepy and eerie

Part 2 of what you see, i see

She had been going through the motions for the rest of the day, she hadn't even bothered to stop by her school clubs, until she arrived home. A sickly sweet scent of pastries attacked her senses the second she entered. Her house doubled as a bakery for the first floor. It was a popular hang out place for people her age especially for couples. There was a parade of them this time - cheerful couples were already sharing their coffees and sugary pastries.

The universe was laughing at her. It had to be. Why else would there be so many happy couples in the store right now? It was pointing and laughing hysterically on the ground saying: "That's what you get for ignoring me! That's what you get for resenting my gift to you!" Because that's what a soulmate was, a gift. A rare and wonderful gift that no one believed in, except for those who have experienced it themselves, and she had lost it; lost him.

She almost cried on the spot.

Her mother waved gleefully from behind the register, her daughter seldom returned it as she went up the stairs. She dropped her school bag in her room besides her desk and, face first, flopped on her bed.

She closed her eyes. Nothing, there was nothing.

Her lip quivered as tears began to sting her eyes, but she couldn't cry. Not when her mother was expecting her to change and put on an apron and help as she always did after school. She could silently mourn him tonight.

She let out a shaky breath. Did she even have the right to mourn him? She had never met him or talked to him. Everytime she thought of him recently was only to insult him or dismiss him entirely. No, she did not have the right to mourn him and she deserved to feel empty on the inside.

She put on a clean apron and slugged her way down stairs with a smile as she took over her mother's place at the register. Her mom kissed the top of her head and beamed at her with a thumbs up.

She never understood why so many people hated working retail, but now, she did. She had to force a smile and treat every customer kindly, all the while, she was dying on the inside.

A man had come in. Tall and insanely buff, a scar on his mouth. He ordered the cheapest pastry on the menu and handed her a wadded up yen. Her blood turned cold when their fingers brushed.

Her mother quickly took the money away from her as she gave her a quick command to check on the oven in the back.

She swallowed and listened to her mom. Her steps were quick as she pushed the double doors that led to the kitchen, she hugged herself.

It was him. It had to be him. That was the man who killed Gojo Satoru. She reached for a knife and gripped it tight. She should kill him. Her soulmate was dead and he was the reason why. She should try and avenge him.

Sheshouldsheshouldsheshouldsheshould-

The oven blared next to her. Her head snapped to it as the knife clattered on the ground, and with shaky mitted hands she opened the oven, and took out the fresh pastries.

Those were dangerous thoughts; thoughts she never thought she would ever have against anyone. She took off the oven mitts and looked outside the circle window of the kitchen - he was leaving and her mother was watching him like a hawk, even when the bell rang sharply with a muffin in his mouth as he walked outside with the rest of the crowd. She didn't know what possessed her to run after him, but she did. Maybe, all she wanted to know was why he had killed Gojo Satoru. Maybe, she wanted this man to kill her too, so she wouldn't feel empty inside anymore.

A blur of a conversation as the words tumbled out of her mouth: "Why? Why did you kill Satoru?"

She didn't register anything other than his gruff voice, "Ah, he had a soulmate. If I were you I'd keep that information to yourself from now on." Uninterestedly, he continued, "You wouldn't want the Gojo clan to know about you. No doubt, they'll try to marry you off to another member of the clan." and then, kept walking.

She didn't hear the interest in his voice when he said to himself, "But she would be worth a lot of money if I did take her to them." He would negotiate a price first to see if he was right about her being worth any money. He would worry about that later, right now, he had a star plasma vessel to turn in.

A sharp tug on her arm is all that stopped her from running after him again.

"______! What were you thinking?" her mother gritted out as she led her back into the bakery. Her mother's voice is strict and unwavering, "Go to your room."

And she did.

She tossed the apron on her desk and kicked her school bag. How was she supposed to live like this with the rest of her entire life half-full?

A sob violently escaped her.

This was how everyone else in the world lived, she realized.

Aching and alone.

Desperate and searching.

Wanted and unwanted.

Now, she was just like everyone else like she had always wanted. She supposed, she couldn't complain.

She laid in bed, wrapped herself in a blanket - trying to keep warm, but she doubted, she'd ever feel warm again as she cried herself to sleep.

She dreamt about Satoru. Flashes of a long chain, of red, of purple, of blood, of a crowd clapping, of someone wrapped in a white sheet, of a long dark hallway.

The universe was laughing at her again. Why else would it give her dreams about him?

An uneasiness settled into her bones. Someone was watching her. The grim reaper, no doubt wearing the face of her soulmate's assassin. If death wanted her, so be it.

She kept her eyes closed.

She saw herself sleeping soundly in death's gaze. She saw the time pass through her window changing from sundown to night as death continued to watch her intently.

Hours had passed.

00:57:39

She wondered at what specific time the grim reaper would take her.

1:13:01

Did it want her to open her eyes?

1:13:10

Probably.

1:13:15

The grim reaper has been patiently waiting for her.

1:13:17

Why keep death waiting then?

1:13:20

Her eyes fluttered open.

Beautiful, vibrant cerulean blue.

It was not death. It was -

"Satoru," she whispered.

"______," he whispered back.

Satoru was sitting down on the floor extremely close to her bed with his legs crossed while his hands rested neatly on his ankles. There was dry blood on his face and on his white dress shirt.

Her mouth moved but no sound came.

"You were crying," he said as he caressed her cheek soothing his thumb along the trail of stained lines that her dried tears had left, "alot."

So, he had seen everything.

She put her hand over his and gently rubbed circles.

Satoru scooted closer to her bed, "I didn't like seeing you cry," his hand trailed up to her scalp, "or frown," and gently ran his fingers through her hair.

He laid his head down on her bed and stared at her with those vibrant, sparkling eyes; eyes that could see everything she could never see.

She touched his cheek gently, "I didn't like not feeling you."

Her whole body shivered. Satoru was here, in front of her, and she was still cold.

"Are you still cold?"

She nodded.

Never letting go of her, he kicked off his shoes and climbed under the blanket with her. He wrapped his legs around hers as her arms wrapped under his uniform jacket.

With his hand still tangled in her hair, he said, "Better?"

His heartbeat had returned to her. They were beating in unison again.

"Better," she hummed. "You?" She asked.

His lips pressed softly on her forehead, "Much better." He tugged her in closer into his chest.

She smiled.

She was warm again.

@whatamidoing89 @mr-underhills-things

Part 1: what you see, i see

Part 3: you know i adore you

Part 4: i'm crazier for you

Part 5: baby, you're the life of the party

Part 6: something's made your eyes go cold

[potatobugxo]

Hey so ive been having a rough day as I was yelled at by customersn at my retail job, can i get Angelperhaps seeing his genderneutral s/o getting yelled at by an unruly hotel guest and standing up for them and possibly comforting them? If you cant i totally understand, thanks ❤️

yes of course!!! i work in retail too people are so stupid fr... take care of yourself ok?? love you very much <33 warnings: reader gets yelled at, swearing, hurt to comfort

"a-ah, my bad..." angel perks up as he hears you apologize to someone across the room. the hotel had grown more lively with guests and sinners, and handling guests' purchases was your designated job. you were crouched on the floor, scooping up a tray of food you had dropped.

"what the hell? can't even get decent service at a place like this," the guest, a demon much taller than you grumbled, hands on his hips as he watched you scramble to pick up what was presumed to be his meal. "i am really sorry," you stand back up, tray in hand, and angel's hair standing on end when he realizes how shaky your hands are. "i-i can get a replacement for it right away-" "don't need a fuckin' replacement!" the sinner barks in your face, slapping the tray out of your hands and making you wince. "need you to do your fuckin' job right! they not payin' you enough, huh? think you can just waste shit like this!" "hey, asshole!" you and the sinner both turn to see angel dust marching toward you, his pink pupils glowing an angry shade of magenta. "listen up, fucker, they're doin' their best," angel jabs a finger into the sinner's chest, causing the demon to scowl at him. you shift anxiously on your feet behind angel, swiping the tears that had been forming in your eyes away with your arm. "so what if they dropped a tray? it's just some fuckin' food, not like they took a shit in it and served it to you," angel sneered. "if you lookin' to redeem yourself this ain't how you treat other people. so apologize or get the fuck outta here!" "fuck you!" the sinner snaps back, unable to come up with further retaliation before storming out of the lobby. angel glares at him as he departs, and only turns to you once the sinner slams the hotel doors shut. "angel, you didn't have to do that," you insist, voice hushed. angel places his four hands on your arms and smiles at you. "toots, you can't be takin' shit like that, okay?" he assures in a gentle tone. "i'm just tired," you inform him. "i'm not used to so many guests being here... looks like they all don't listen when charlie says to be polite to others." "that's for fuckin' sure," angel spits in the direction the sinner had fled in. "hey, don't beat yourself up about it, alright? i'll help you clean up this mess." he gestures toward the tray and scattered food that has stained the carpet. "okay," you sniffle a bit. "anyone else been treatin' you like that mothafucka?" angel inquires, cocking an eyebrow. you shake your head. "good. cuz i'd really hate to backslide on this redemption bullshit by shootin' some lowlife scumbag." you giggle at his remark and he grins, pulling you in for a four-armed hug.

[cr4yolaas]

mezzo forte — non-confrontational

track 7: pity party | masterlist | track 9: homesick v.2

heavy, purple bags weigh his eyes down. it's the first thing she notices when she swings open the door with a little too much force. he's exhausted, that much made obvious by the droopiness on his face and the unkempt nature of his hair. for a moment, she forgets why she came there.

he doesn't make a move to let her in. instead, he rests the entirety of his weight on the doorframe, the old painted wood creaking ever so slightly beneath the pressure. it's as if her presence is a hindrance to him. her feet plant themselves on the floor in retaliation to his foreign detachment, and slowly, the confusion and anger that motivated her visit come crawling back in the form of pinpricks clinging onto her spine.

"hajime," she mutters, and the forgoing of his usual nickname makes him falter just a bit. "what happened that night? at the reunion party?"

he shifts his stance from one leg to the other. he doesn't know what to say.

"you and tooru have ignored me since, and it- i don't know, i just feel lost. i don't know what happened. and i hate that both of you are hiding it from me," she rambles, and he can tell she's upset.

truthfully, he's horrified. he doesn't want to tell her the truth -- if it even is the truth -- but he knows that nothing will happen if he doesn't say anything.

"who have your songs been for this whole time?" he asks, his voice cracking and his hands shaky. the creases on her forehead only increase tenfold, and he's scared. a heavy sigh falls from her lips.

"it's always been you, haji," she heaves out, unloading a burden that had hung heavy on her shoulders for years upon years. "they were all for you. i don't- i don't understand how you didn't see it. and i feel stupid for not making it more obvious."

he pauses. his mouth hangs agape and with every shallow breath he takes, a bit of his pride and confidence seeps out. disbelief weighs heavily in his heart and overpowers every other rational sense that's kept him going for so long.

"it can't be me. it really, really can't."

it comes out as a whisper, his words nearly lost to the gentle summer breeze. she hears it as a rejection -- an admission that she cannot write syrupy, silly melodies for him, because he cannot satisfy the sickly sweet sensation rotting her heart. she loathes how aloof he seems to be about it.

something bubbles up within her throat. she's scared that, if she so much as breathes another breath, she'll say something she doesn't mean. so, instead, with an ache in her chest and a pounding in her head, she walks away -- because she cannot bear to face the end of the road that she's been running on for so long.

he doesn't chase after her, nor does he depart from the scene. hajime maintains his posture against the door. guilt gnaws violently at the sinew between his bones and every ligament that ensures his stability, and he swears he can feel the pitter-patter of his heart diminish into something slow and scattered.

hajime is terribly non-confrontational when it comes to her -- that much had been a consistent truth since they met, in their little suburban neighborhood at the unripe age of 7 -- and he curses his own weakness for destroying what he'd been holding onto so desperately.

♪ i’m lowk rushing thru this bc i’m too eager to end mezzo forte i’m sorry 😭😭 i love it but i canr wait for it to end if that makes sense

♪ yn got nothing done in the whole week of no contact with the other two. she was quite literally paralyzed with fear she couldn’t finish any of her work

♪ yachi thrives on severe retail therapy habits if u couldnt tell

♪ msby 4 was lowk listening from the hallway they love the chismis but also they r actually invested in this relationship

♪ i think we might get the triple update tn 😭😭

taglist: @zumicho @causenessus @guitarstringed-scars @yuminako @chemiru @sunnyskiezzzz @httpsivy @itsdragonius @theycallmenanamisgirl @wyrcan @19calicos @hunnies4bunnies @mawenskiblue @diorzs @loverlunaire @mfcherry @solaqes @myromanempiree @brithedemonspawn @corvid007 @lilchubbyyy

[rafyki]

Part two of the Goth! Nico/Surfer! Percy!! @neo-kid-funk liked it so much I couldn't not post another part so soon!! That's what your art does to me!! Pure inspiration!!!

This time it's Percy's turn to be a huge loser with a huge crush lmao

Part one, if you haven't read it~

~~~

Percy threw himself on his beach towel, trying his best not to spill his precious drink even in his excitement.

“Annabeth, he smiled at me!”

His friend looked up from the huge book she was reading, a skeptic but fond look in her eyes.

“Percy, he works in retail, smiling at customers is literally his job”.

Percy groaned, took a sip of his drink - not alcoholic, but maybe it could make him forget his huge absurd crush on a boy he didn't even know.

The prettiest boy you've ever met though, his brain usefully supplied. What did it even matter that they didn't really know each other and that they had exchanged perhaps a total of twenty words to each other? Nothing, not when said boy had the prettiest features Percy had ever seen, the most enchanting eyes, the deepest and most beautiful voice, and the most charming shade of pink coloring his nose and cheeks. And, finally today Percy could add to the list that he even had the softest and cutest honest smile ever - because Percy could tell the difference between a “customers smile” and an honest one, and the way Nico had smiled today? It couldn't have been anything but honest, and it had made warmth bloom into Percy's stomach, made his heart grow ten sizes.

“No, Annabeth”, he said, at the cost of sounding like a petulant little child. “He smiled for real! He even laughed a little!”

“Did he?”

“I'm telling you he did!”

She seemed to consider it for a long moment. Percy waited with as much patience as he could muster for her opinion. He could always count on Annabeth being horribly and unapologetically honest with him; he could definitely trust her to be the one to offer him a cruel but needed reality check to bring him back to earth.

She had been the main witness of Percy’s fall into the hopeless (or maybe not so hopeless?) rabbit hole that was his crush for the kiosk boy, had been listening to him ranting on and on about him for probably almost a month now, and had been dragged on the beach way too many times against her will for Percy to ignore her valid as always opinion.

“That doesn’t necessarily mean he likes you, Seaweed-brain, you know that, right?”, she said, and Percy knew, but his heart fell anyway. “Still”, she added, and Percy couldn’t help but perk up at the tone of her voice. He knew that tone - it was the tone she used when she was about to say something optimistic even against her better judgment. 

“I guess it is weird for him to smile like that at customers - at least, I’ve never seen him do it - and we do spend a whole lot of time on this beach and at the kiosk”.

She said the last part with just a tiny little bit of annoyance - but Percy knew her well enough to know that she would forgive him eventually.

“I need your support, Annabeth, you know that!”

“You could take Grover with you next time”.

“I did once, remember? He was even more nervous than me”, Percy said. “Not exactly the best wingman”.

Annabeth rolled her eyes at him. “It’s not like you’re doing much but staring at him and daydream anyway”.

Well, that was a low blow, but true.

“That’s not true”, he still said, just for the sake of it. It earned a raised eyebrow and the most skeptical expression he had ever seen on his friend’s face.

“Percy”, she said, slowly as if she was talking to a kid. “Showing off your surfing skills and hoping he’ll find you so incredibly hot he’ll fall on your knees for you is not doing something about this”.

Ouch. Alright, maybe Annabeth’s reality checks were a little too honest and harsh sometimes.

“You can’t know it won’t work”, Percy said.

She was right, of course - she always was, and Percy hated and adored her for it. 

He sighed, setting aside his drink and looking at the kiosk, his eyes finding Nico right away with practiced experience. He was serving someone, and Percy’s first thought was I wonder if he’s smiling like that at them too - which was stupid, and he knew that too, but knowing it didn’t really change anything. Percy was perfectly aware of how ridiculous he was being, but despite what Annabeth might have said about it, knowledge wasn’t always all that mattered.

He sighed, forcing himself to look away.

“What do you think I should do?”

“Well, you really only have two options”, Annabeth said.

It wasn’t exactly hard to guess what she was referring to.

“Either giving up or finding the courage of asking him out?”.

“Precisely”.

“Ugh”, Percy groaned. “You’re not much more helpful than Grover, you know?”

Annabeth laughed. “You know I’m right, Seaweed-brain”.

“I hate you”.

“Hating me won’t make you date the boy of your dreams”.

The boy of your dreams - oh, he really was, wasn’t he? Percy didn’t even know when exactly he had started to be unable to think about Nico, to want nothing more than to talk to him and get to know him for real; things had degenerated pretty fast - one moment Nico was just the cute goth boy working at the beach, and then the next he was Percy’s newest obsession.

It was weird - Nico wasn’t exactly his type; he seemed to be all dark and sharp edges, cloaked in black like he was constantly trying to hide in the shadows even under the bright sun. He looked like the kind of person that kept everyone at arm's length, and it only made Percy want to get closer and closer.

He realized his eyes had turned to him again, following his every move. He was talking to his friends, his words accompanied by wide hand gestures - Percy had noticed this habit of his before; it was adorable, really. Percy wanted to talk to him and see it from up close.

“He’s so pretty Annabeth, I’m gonna die”.

That was probably the thousandth time Annabeth had heard him saying that, so the roll of her eyes was definitely justified.

“Then go talk to him and ask him out”.

Percy groaned. She made it sound so easy.

He got up, took his surfing board again. “Maybe”, he said. “But first I’m going to see if my plan of being too hot to resist is gonna work”.

“You’re ridiculous”.

“Thanks, I didn’t know that”.

Annabeth rolled her eyes again and went back to her book. Who even preferred reading a book on a beach instead of going into the water? Percy would never understand that.

He walked towards the water with his mind still fixed on the same thought. He wondered if Nico liked the ocean - maybe they could enjoy it together, maybe Percy could teach him how to surf.

Maybe. If he could actually find the courage of asking him out.

[ruewrote]

𝑓𝑢𝑐𝑘 𝑖𝑡.

PAIRING: rafe cameron x gn!reader WARNINGS: rude customer, fighting & strong language GENRE: angst to fluff SONG INSPIRATION: wash by bon iver WORD COUNT: 756

navigation | ask | outer banks masterlist

today was certainly not your day.

starting it off by being late for work was of course not ideal, silently hating your boss for making you come in so early after opening.

the catching up wasn't even the worst part of it since you were used to rush hour, but having a new hire fumbling every five minutes didn't really help your patience.

so on top of being late, doing the usual morning rush, having to practically retrain your co-worker everything. your boss decides to be a dick and rush you on your lunch break, not being able to eat half of your sandwich then you were back at it again.

right now you were on your last straw. trying to keep up with some stuck up kooks long ass coffee order.

the sigh of relief you let out after finishing it almost wiped you out, taking so much of your time and concentration. you turned around putting on your best fake smile.

"tiffany!" you announced, eyes scanning the room landing on the short blonde whose nails were aggressively tapping against her phone screen.

"oh that's me!" she giggled as she wobbled forward in her tall heels, grabbing the drink off of the counter and taking a sip of it.

"oh my god who made this is disgusting! this isn't what i asked for."

"excuse me ma'am that was me and i made it exactly how you ordered it." you spoke to her, clenching your teeth praying to the gods that she wouldn't test you.

"hm no it isn't, you wanna try?" she said whilst taking off the lid off the drink to then throw the contents inside in your face, going to leave after doing that.

leaving you stood there in the middle of the jammed shop, everyone silent and looking at you.

you just laughed, tongue pressed to your cheek, tilting your head back as you ripped your apron off, running out of the shop after her.

tiffany clearly didn't hear the hurried footsteps behind her, but she definitely felt you turning and pushing her to the ground. her phone breaking against the concrete.

you dropped to your knees, straddling her hips getting a few punches in. her crying grew louder when you stopped and got off of her.

"i don't give a fuck who you are. respect your retail workers!" you pointed down at her then ran off to your car trying to ignore the fact that everyone had been staring at you.

tears welled up in your eyes as you banged on the door of your boyfriends house, hoping that he'd be in.

you heard the muffled talking getting closer and louder to the door before it opened. revealing an angry rafe on the phone, seeing you made it turn into worry, him ending the call grabbing your hands helping you into his home.

"sweetheart, what happened?" he questioned, but you just fell into his embrace, sobbing so hard against the material of his shirt.

even with you being a sticky mess, he wrapped his arms around you bringing you even closer to him not caring about his clothes, only you.

"shh it's alright, you're okay. i'm here."

after a little while of him holding you rafe brought you to the bathroom, your crying now subsided. he convinced you to stay the night with him as he ran you a bath.

helping you strip yourself of your clothing, holding your hand helping you into the water. leaving you so it could soak off the majority of the dry splotches.

"you wanna tell me what went down, love?" his words soft as he sat himself beside you on the floor of the bathroom.

"i... i don't even know. it all happened so quickly..." you told him everything about your day from the beginning to now. he grabbed a soft sponge and soap, gently grasping one of your arms getting to work on making them clean as he listened.

"so...it sounds like she deserved it." you laughed at that, feeling an invisible weight be lifted off of your shoulders.

"i guess so."

he then moved onto washing your hair, his fingers massaging your scalp making you physically melt into him.

for the rest of your bath you laughed and joked, talking about everything you were gonna do after you were out of the bathroom. almost forgetting what happened.

you were so glad that you had someone as amazing as rafe, knowing that you never had to struggle as long as he was around.

comments and reblogs are appreciated ♡

© ruewrote 2024.

[spinji]

The Izuku fast food worker is surficing again, and i still think it's funny how no matter where Izuku is working Katsuki will just NOT let go of him.

Retail? He'll come back everyday and ask for a smile, he doesn't even care for the food. Teaching? He sneaks in to bring Izuku lunch. Journalist? Katsuki gives interviews for him only. Hero work? He's always 5cm beside Izuku, it's the last time he ever lets someone take him away.

It is adorable that he will follow him literally everywhere but GOD I hate Burger King making the fast food Deku joke real. Hot take; it was never funny and it's honestly kind of horrfying that the real world is encouraging this idea that quirkless people are worthless and can't go into hero work, or even any impressive or successful work period. Like- some people didn't even hesitate demoting Izuku to a minimum wage job after he lost OFA.

I'm not fond of comparing quirklessness to any real world disability because the metaphor doesn't really work as much as some people insist it does, but I gotta raise an eyebrow at people who just took the fictional bigotry from the story while ignoring the effort to both prove that it's bad and prove it wrong.

[moonpedri]

does he know.

summary: you love gavi and you're happy in your relationship with him. but for some reason you're the moth and pedri, his best friend, is the flame that pulls you in.

pairing: pedri x reader

genre: angst, smut and a sprinkle of fluff

warnings: cheating (we do not support!), phone s*x, masturbating, mentions of genitals lmao, cursing

word count: 3.3k

a/n: this idea came to me months ago when i heard the song 'moth to a flame' by the weeknd while working lmao. and when you work in retail, you have a lot of time to think :D. i do not condone cheating in any way, i think it's vile and disgusting, but 🫣😵‍💫 i couldn't help myself with this one. enjoy!!<3

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"Hey, everything alright, sugar?"

You hiccup, "N-no. Can you come over?"

"Be there in 10." He hangs up immediately, giving you no time to even thank him. You take a look at your phone again. Your vision is blurry with tears in your eyes.

The call lasted a record time of 7 seconds. That's how long it took for you to convince him to come over. The occasion was usually a different one, but you needed his comfort more than anything right now.

You look at the contact picture, Pedri was smiling at the camera. No, he was smiling at you. The thought alone puts a smile on your face as well, but the events only hours ago catch up to you and you almost break out into tears again.

You and Pablo fought, and you normally never do. Dating Pablo Gavi was no easy task, but you loved the challenge. You loved how easy it was with him sometimes and how difficult it could get too. That's what made a relationship a relationship.

He treats you right and you feel incredibly loved by him. Maybe that's why it irked you the wrong way when one of his female friends got a little too close to him today, when your mutual friend group went mini-golfing. It only got worse when he reciprocated her actions.

"It's actually super easy, just hold the handle this way.", he explained to her, all the while you stood behind them, seeing red. She was shamelessly oggling at his biceps in front of you. In a fit of jealousy, you decided to just ignore him the entire rest of the day. Looking back at it, you may have spoiled the mood for everyone but you didn't care. You could have made a scene as well and ruined the fun straight upc but you decided to do it silently instead. Which again, was absolutely stupid, because just telling Pablo would have done the job.

He's a sweetheart, you know he never meant it that way. He never looses his temper with you either, he just calmly listens to you and talks to you; both of you finding a compromise to the problem - that's just how things between you two worked.

And that makes everything so much worse, because today he did lose his temper with you. He screamed at you, and you screamed back. Mean things where exchanged inside the car. You really don't want to know what a sight you two made.

It ended with him pulling over, after you yelled at him to stop the car. You slammed the door shut and stormed off, expecting him to follow you. He never did. Instead he raced off, leaving you in the dust.

In retrospect, you did it to yourself. Doesn't mean it didn't hurt though.

The way home took you a little more than 30 minutes and once you were inside, the tears began flooding down your face.

You hated feeling like this and you hated the fact that it was your own fault even more. You tried calling Gavi multiple times, but he didn't answer. And after an hour, you decided to stop, it was hopeless anyways. You would have to spend this awful night alone tonight, you thought.

And if God wasn't on your side that evening, the Devil definitely was. It was as if he was right by your sight, whispering sinful words into your ear. And foolishly, you listened to him.

You decided to call Pedri.

It sounds wrong, and maybe it is, but it certainly never felt that way with him. Risqué, you would describe the relationship you two have. At least that's what you always told Pedri; you liked the way the word sounded. A little french, no?

He's your boyfriend's best friend. They're teammates and Pablo told you multiple times that he even considers him a brother.

A brother you secretly slept with.

In your defense, you met him and slept with him before you and Pablo were even talking to each other. It was useless though, because you continued.

You didn't mean for it to happen, but like bananas turn to the sun and moths to a flame, you turned to Pedri.

If you're the moth, then Pedri is the flame that pulls you in and burns you. But he never lets it come so far, because he always pulls back before you can burst into flames.

This thing between you and Pedri started about a year ago, months before you even knew Pablo.

You met coincidentally one day at a match of his. Your little brother was a huge FC Barcelona fan and you gifted him front-row tickets for his 12th birthday.

They won that day and some of the players decided to sign autographs and take pictures with their loyal Culers.

Pedri was one of them.

Your brother squealed when the 19 year old football player was near you. He signed his jersey with a chuckle. "You're my idol, Pedri! Thank you so much.", your brother said politely, the excitement in his voice very evident.

"Thank you, big man. Your support helped a lot today.", Pedri said gratefully.

He looked at you then and you had admit that in person he looked even better. His big brown eyes worked like hypnosis on you and the sun did nothing to hide his beautiful tan either.

It seemed like he wanted to sign your shirt as well. You wanted to decline, you didn't need his sign but your brother beat you to it.

"My sister thinks you're handsome."

To this very day you don't know if you should thank him for introducing Pedri into your life or be angry at him for humiliating you like that in front of him.

Pedri's eyes widened. He turned to your brother mischievously, "Oh, is that so? Is she a fan as well or...does she just like my face?"

"Yes, but not as big as me of course. She and her friend talked about you on the phone sometimes. It's sooo annoying." Your brother complains nonchalantly, like Pedri was his best-bud and they just catch up with each other.

You grab your around your little brother's head and pull it close to your side, hushing him, "Anyways, good game.", you tell Pedri with a wide smile. You make a move to just leave, when Pedri holds up his pen.

"Let me sign your shirt."

You press your lips together but give in eventually, hoping that he'll just quickly move on to his other fans. He bids you goodbye with a wink and a ruffle to your brothers head.

It's only later at home that you realized that he left his phone number on your shirt. You still have it stowed away in the safety of your closet. And it will probably stay there forever.

You texted Pedri the next day. After all you couldn't come off as too easy, right?

Talking with him came easy. Conversations flowed like water and the topics just never stopped. It felt good to be with him, you felt like yourself. He listened to your every word and he made you feel special.

The two of you dated around for 5 months. You would lie if you said that these months weren't one of the most beautiful times of your life so far, but also the most hurtful ones.

Pedri travelled a lot with you, spoiled you rotten to no end and the sex(!!!). You genuinely liked his presence.

You wore your heart on your sleeve, you practically gave it to him. You two acted like a couple, like you were utterly and completely in love.

Maybe you were. Maybe it was just your imagination, because a guy showed so much interest in you for the first time.

But you two were never officially together.

Pedri never asked you to be his girlfriend. He always brought you everywhere, yet he never introduced you as his special someone.

You still wonder if Pedri never felt anything for you. Why he hesitated so much. It broke your heart, when you told him one day that you had enough. Of course he immediately understood what you meant. And the little hope you had of him finally making the last step, diffused when he said nothing more. He didn't fight for you, he let you go.

It hurt you, but for some reason it didn't break you like you initially thought it would. In fact, you and Pedri still stayed in contact. You befriended some of his friends in the time you two dated, it would've been awkward. And like you mentioned, being with Pedri was easy.

If you two could be lovers, then you definitely can be friends as well.

Things between you ended in September. In November you met Gavi.

It came a bit to a surprise to you, the wound didn't completely heal yet and Gavi was a year younger than you; you didn't go for younger guys. But Pablo was gentle, he put a band-aid over it and in January the two of you started dating.

That's also when things between you and Pedri started to become...different. In the time between the break-up and the start of your new relationship, he treated you like a good friend would. Pedri made you feel at ease and less hurt over the whole ordeal. He never hinted at anything more. The moment your relationship became public though, he started acting odd.

Suddenly he was everywhere. He stood and sat next to you whenever your little group of friends met. When you were at the beach, his eyes practically undressed you behind his shades. When you watched their training sessions, he lingered by your side too long.

No one noticed because you and Pedri always got along. You were friends. Only some knew that there may have been more, but no one knew for sure - especially not Gavi.

The real culprit however was you. Because all the while, you never said anything. You never rejected Pedri, you did nothing to push him away. It was just not in you to do that. Like it was coded in your DNA.

The cheating however started with a call one night. In a state of boredom you decided to browse through your gallery and organize it, when you stumbled across old pictures of you and Pedri.

In one you were cuddling, in the next one you were kissing. The pictures got gradually more indecent and you couldn't help but think back to when you took them. You laid on your back, naked cleavage only slightly visible. Sweat collected itself on your hairline. Next to you was Pedri, sucking on your neck, only the back of of his head visible.

You swiped right. Another intimate picture, but this time it was a mirror selfie. Not much was visible thanks to the curtains that dimmed the room, but you sat on top of him. Your nipples perked up. Pedri's hands grabbed onto your hips harshly, his head was tilted back.

You remember taking this picture very well. Pedri always said he didn't like taking them, he complained when you took this very one. In hindsight you believe he did. He posed so well on camera, you know he must have enjoyed it secretly.

You also remember how good he felt inside of you. He always managed to find the right spot to make you squeal and squirm around, stretching your cervix in all the right ways.

Heat began building up in your lower area and you couldn't help but lower your hands under your pants. The moment you cupped your vulva, goosebumps spread all over your body. It's been a long time since you touched yourself.

Being horny alters something in your brain. All at once, you can't think rationally. Essentially, you just think with your fucking dick. It just overcomes you - like a switch.

Rationally thinking you should have called your boyfriend. One look at the picture on your phone told you that that wasn't what you wanted.

A few taps later and the phone rings.

"__. It's one in the morning, is everything okay?", he answers the phone. The sleepiness in his voice was evident.

"Yeah, I just-.", a sigh escapes your mouth. Your ring finger touched around the entrance of your vagina and you can't even formulate a proper sentence. Nothing that you did right now was morally right, it was absolutely impromper. You didn't know how you were going to explain your late night call to Pedri either.

But he knew you so well. He recognized the tone in your voice immediately.

"__", his voice was hoarse. It did nothing to ease your pleasure, no, it only worsened it. "I think you got the wrong number."

"No, I don't.", you retorted.

He sounded troubled, "You should call Pablo. You shouldn't hav-"

"No, I wanted you.", you say as you add another finger to circle around your vagina. You're so wet already and so sensitive. A moment of silence passes and you press your thighs together. You didn't have the time to argue around.

Something needed to be done.

"I just found an old picture of us in my phone. You know, the ones in bed you didn't like. And I just remembered,", you closed your eyes, "I just, Pedro please do something."

You heard him shuffle on the other end.

"Fuck, what are you doing right now?"

And so he joins your little spiel.

You opened your legs and started rubbing your clitoris, "Touching myself."

"Where?"

Pedri's voice, now a lot more demanding, was still raspy from sleep and you began rubbing a bit faster. "My clit. Wish it was you", you croaked out. You started getting louder.

Pedri curses, "M'getting hard. Fuck."

You imagined what he must look like right now, lying in his bed, pants pulled down and stroking his dick desperately. You whimpered at the thought.

You loved his dick.

Honestly penises never really appealed to you objectively; they're ugly. They definitely felt better than they looked and if someone asked, you wouldn't say they were a man's nicest body part. You still liked them though.

Pedri, however, had one of the prettiest ones you have ever seen (not that you saw many). Everything from his girth to his tip to his color was so perfect. You loved sitting between his legs, crawling at his muscular thighs, while his dick was in your mouth.

A moan escaped your mouth, "Your cock always felt so good. So pretty."

You wondered if Pedri imagined you naked as well. If his thoughts were as filthy as yours were. Surely, they must have been. "Fuck, baby, I thought about your pussy so much."

"Yeah?"

"Hmm, always so good for me. No one compares."

You could here the slick sound of him pumping his dick through the phone, it was lewd. So dirty and so wrong, but you never felt better.

Rubbing your clit was not enough anymore, you needed your fingers inside of you. The sound filled your entire bedroom and you held the phone closer between your legs. "Pedro.", you moan his name. You wanted him know how he made you feel, how your body reacted just at the thought of him.

"You sound so wet, princess, just for me?"

"Yes, only you." You started kneading your boob too, imagining it to be his hand instead. "Ahh.", you cry as you hit that special spot. Pedri always managed to find it. May it be with his dick, his fingers or, your favorite, his tongue - hot and wet. He made you feel things you didn't think a human could feel.

The call didn't go on for long. You taunted and teased each other for only a little longer. Words became more slurred until the only thing left was the lewd sounds of you two moaning and whimpering into each other's ears.

You were close. Your fingers were still rapidly pushing back and forth, until everything came to a halt. You couldn’t breathe.

Your back archs backwards and your fingers were clutching at the sheets, as heat overcame your body and your orgasm washed over you. You're vaguely aware of Pedri grunting into the phone as well - too lost in your own pleasure.

And then it slowly fades away.

Suddenly you're hyper-aware of everything, as your consciousness trickled back. Your chest heaves up and down heavily.

You stared at the ceiling, guilt starting to consume you all of a sudden. You felt horrible, to say the least.

Pedri must have felt the same way, you believed. Heavy breathing was the only thing you heard on his end, when you spoke up, "Don't get me wrong. This was...amazing.", you started, searching for words. "But Pablo can't know. This shouldn't have happened, I'm sorry, I don't know what overcame me."

It took Pedri a moment to answer your word-vomit. "It's fine,__. There are always two involved, right? Let's just forget about it." The guilt in his voice was evident too, Gavi was his best friend after all.

You thought that settled it. A one-time mistake.

One time turned to two times and two times turned to multiple more calls at night, sometimes while Pablo slept next to you.

You kept the pictures of you two, and your boyfriend's bed was not the only bed you have spent your night at anymore. And he wasn't the only one spending his nights in yours either.

Just like right now.

The ringing of the doorbell rips you out of your thoughts. Pedri actually manages to be at your door in 8 minutes.

He engulfes you in a hug the moment he sees your tear-struck face. "Talk to me, what happened?", he mumbles against your hair.

You sit on your bed when you tell him of your fight with Pablo. Your stupidity that ruined everything. Pedri sits and listens intently to your worries. Occasionally he caresses your hand or hair.

"I didn't think he would get so angry with me.", you sob.

Pedri smiles at you with warm eyes. In a moment of weakness you think about what would have happened if you stayed with Pedri. Would Pedri have acted the same way?

"W-Would you have done the same?"

The question lingers in the air for a moment. You can't blame yourself for asking. Not right now, when you feel so powerless. And you can't blame Pedri for his silence either. After all, the lines are blurred already, he has to be careful with his words.

"I don't know. Probably not.", he says.

Pedri knows you good enough by now. The look in your eyes tells him everything he needs to. You were like an open book to him.

You insinuated at more, at something possible in the future. One word and you'll be his. But he shuts you down. "He's good for you.", he says then. "I see the way he makes you feel, he truly loves you,__. You deserve that. Don't worry."

He tells to you stay with Gavi; he looks you dead in the eye, while saying it. It annoys you a bit that after all this time, he still behaves the same. But he is aware of that. Because when you need him, he's always just one call away. That's all he is and may ever be.

And Pedri knows, that you are loyal to him. Your heart lies with him; in his arms.

He looks at your vulnerable state, at your glossy eyes watching him. Oh yes, your heart truly lies with him.

Like a moth to a flame, he pulls you in. And like a flame, he's fickle but destructive. And once the moth gets too close to him, it burst into flames.

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© moonpedri - DO NOT copy, translate or post my work anywhere without my permission!

[felswritingfire]

Homelander x Chaotic! Hyper Fem!Reader

The Homelander brainrot is real and I hate it with my whole being. I want this man dead, he's so pathetic. Anyway, I haven't watched The Boys but I'm hooked on his character thanks to falling down the rabbit hole with Character.Ai and all the talented writers for The Boys fandom, like? Absolutely scrumptious works. Also I just really wanted to write for a chaotic reader, the hyper fem part came after lmao

TW: This was written with a AFAB reader in mind so there's descriptions of Reader wearing a skirt, no pronouns specified; Homelander's creepiness is considerably toned down for this, but he does break into reader's apartment and actively stalks them; Reader says some saucy stuff; Cussing; Homelander has a panic attack/mental break down; Reader is a horny virgin; Age Gap, it's only mentioned once or twice, but it's still there and prevalent; Gen Z humor- reader is a Gen Z baby, they're in their early 20s

"You didn't tell me that Homelander had a slutty ass waist." The words caught him off guard. They were whispered. Somewhere in the crowd. His eyes fought to stay glued onto the press speaker, his smile twitching ever so slightly.  The comment had hung in his head, floating around like a phantom, even as he took the stage and did his speech perfectly. Like always. He preens as the people clap and cheer for him.  Then the voice chirps out, in the safety of the cheering and the noise: "Homelander? More like Sluttylander, am I right?" He hears a scoff after that, zeroing in on the conversation now: two women. No older than their mid 20s. "Hey, I mean that respectfully." "You know he's like 20 years older than you, right?" "I'll bend him over and make him call me daddy. I'm not a coward." A cackle. He had scanned the crowd while keeping a smile plastered on his lips. He was curious what foul mouth little shit was talking. Until his gaze lands on… you.  You look like the cat that got the cream as you look at your friend who has to hold onto you for support as she giggles and laughs. Your bright eyed gaze moves from her back to him just to tense as you catch his gaze. "Um," you elbow her- Renae- to get her attention and she giggles before she looks and she's freezing too. "He isn't looking at us is he?" She shrugs. "I don't know…" she trails off. You squint before covering your mouth with your hands, talking just loud enough for Renae to hear you but no one else. "Blink twice if you can hear us." It was a joke. There's no way- And then he's blinking. Once. Twice.  "Oh bitch-tits." You want to scream, grabbing Renae's wrist, pushing through the crowd. "Fuck, dude, this is going to be my thirteenth reason, I swear to fuck-"  He watches the two of you go. He shouldn't be interested. You're just some snot nosed kid. But… how you spoke, the chaotic-ness of it all. The way the light caught your hair, the curves of your body, the way that skirt flares up as you scurry away... he's intrigued to say the least…

💫 Homelander wasn't normally so… interested in the general public, but he had been quick to commit your face and voice to memory. He had actually stumbled upon you, finding out you worked at some high-end retail job. You dealt with snooty people and all the while kept up that pretty little customer service smile despite the clear signs of barely concealed frustration searing under your skin. He could smell the heat of your blood and watched you through the building's walls when you went on break and sat down stiffly, just to scream into your hands. It started out as something funny because he found your misery amusing and then the descent into madness started.

💫 It was like he went through the five stages of grief. At first he had convinced himself that he keeps watching you out of sheer amusement. And then he started to take in more pieces of you: how you took care of things you treasure; how you cared and cooed at the plants that were in your house; how you talked to that damn fish that your treasured so much; your little mannerisms- things he started to find… cute. Then it was denile: no he didn't find you cute he found you amusing. He laughed when you seethed about your toast burning; how you had a breakdown as soon as you got off work because the crushing weight of living in a capitalistic society came crashing down on you; how you talked to yourself like you were having a full blown conversation with another person- you were amusing. And then came the realization and then rage: how dare you make him feel like this? You were just a sniveling little thing. He was a god. How dare you? And then came acceptance. He was… casual when he accepted it. Like all the turmoil had fallen off his shoulders. He was watching you, taking in how you nurtured your "plant children", how you talked to them and wiped the dust off their leaves. It made his heart flutter.

💫 After that, his casual viewings become much more of a time investment as he pays closer and closer attention to you. Every waking moment he has when he's not busy juggling the press and Vought, is spent watching you. Taking in information and storing it in his brain for safe keeping: what you like to eat; your favorite type of plant; your dream vacation; what type of fish you have (you have a betta. He searched them up. He learned all about them to feel closer to you). 

💫 Soon enough, observing isn't enough. He starts to go into your apartment when you're not home, looking at the coziness of your space. Taking in the scent and looking at your plants and your Betta fish that flares his gills at him. It makes him snort in amusement. How cute. He'll lay on your bed, shoving his face into your pillows and inhaling deeply, moaning in contentment. 

💫 He also starts to "coincidentally" run into you on the streets. He finds it so funny each time you gawk at him. A "holy fuck!" Leaving you as you gesture wildly, "it's fucking Homelander!" 

○ He's not too keen on your potty mouth, but he supposes he can let it slide. He's just as bad.

💫 He smiles his charming little smile as he'll make small talk with you, his hands on his hips as he takes you in. He loves knowing how much stronger he is than you and he has to fight hard to keep from popping a boner. You're so fun to talk to, you say the most out of pocket things:

"Yeah, like, almost got stabbed by a homeless man today. Like, 0/10 would not recommend." You said, looking at your nails. Frowning about the nail polish already chipping. "Yeah, well, not many people put 'being stabbed' at the top of their list of things to happen to them." He replies with a laugh, moving closer to you, taking in that mellow perfume you wear. "I mean, I'm down for knife play, but I'm a classy slut. You have to take me to dinner first." He's flabbergasted. He loves it.

💫 He begins to insert himself into your life, taking up more and more of your free time, you don't even notice it at first. How he just… starts spending time at your home. How you two begin a ritual of movie night every Saturday (he forced Vought to make that day his off day. He was not to be called under any circumstance short of the world going to implode on itself). You have so many emotions in that body of yours and he finds it amusing when you gasp or a look of disgust crosses your face at something a character did. You'd be horrible at poker.

"What the fu-" He has an easy smile on his face as he wraps his arm around your shoulders and places his hand over your mouth. Not threateningly. More playful than anything. You simply hold onto his hand with both of yours as you watch the screen. 

💫 You catch him off guard all the time. Your girly appearance gives nothing away to the chaotic tendencies. You were the closest thing to an actual agent of chaos he's seen. He once watched you, while you were with that little friend of yours- Renae- run across the street as a group of men cat called you, swinging your purse at high velocity speed, yelling: "I'll fucking end your bloodline!" The men were terrified and scurried off screaming "crazy bitch!" You had given Renae a thumbs up, proud of yourself. He also watched you steal a pro-life abortion sign "saying Jesus wouldn't want this" and javelin throwing it into someone's backyard pool before bolting down the street, cackling. Both times in heels. Both times he was weirdly turned on. 

💫 He likes how girly you dress. He loves it actually. He loves all the soft pastel colors you wear and the pleated skirts. It makes you look soft and delicate and he's obsessed with it. He has a tendency to pull at the hem of your skirt, flick it up slightly. You just give him a dead stare and lift up your skirt. "Shorts, bitch." You do it every time and he thinks it's funny.

💫 He hates that you're home screen is a collage of Soldier Boy with that stupid cursive font saying: "my daddy is super dead, but he could still hit it <;3". He hates it and then your lock screen is of your fish.

"Why do you have that?" He asks with disdain.  "What?" She asks looking up at him. He rolls his eyes. "Don't play stupid. Why is he your wallpaper? He's dead. He's been dead." Sure, that was his hero but like hell he wanted to see that man's charming smirk on your homescreen. "Soldier Boys is hot." You say it with all the seriousness of someone telling a prophecy. Homelander's eye twitches. "And I'm not." "No. You are. With your slutty waist." She assures him. "But Soldier Boy is the OG daddy." He scoffs. 

● He ends up stealing your phone later on when you're not looking and changing the wallpaper himself, having memorized your password.

💫 For as flirty and raunchy your mind was, you were oddly freaked out of genuine touch. The first time he tried to make a move on you, you screamed and almost gave yourself a concussion with how you fell over the arm of the couch. He was stunned until you explained you had issues with romantic touch. "Daddy issues, am I right?" She tries to play it off with a laugh. He is not laughing. Later, though, he starts to find it amusing, taking the chance to make you squirm and blush is so funny to him. He revels in your pain and embarrassment.

● He has killed people who had done the same. Like, actually snapped a guy's neck for it.

💫 He is NOT thrilled when you talk about wanting to rail fictional characters. He actually gets pouty. Genuinely gets pissy. He tries to ban you from watching anime.

"But. Toji hot." "I don't care if 'Toji hot'. He spits. "Toji is a fictional character. You need a real man that knows how to please you." You look at him, eating a spoonful of cereal despite his protests about eating it so late. You chew slowly and swallow. "Toji's got that potent dad nut. It works, John." Homelander practically chokes on his spit at that.

💫 He lets you call him John. He likes when you call him John. Call him John.

💫 He actually tries to be better for you because you've voiced how you didn't like when people get hurt. He tries. Key word tries to be more aware, to be a better person. Just for you. 

💫 Absolutely goes insane if you praise him. It's all he wants and all her craves. You've casually complimented him once and he's latched onto it ever since. He's infatuated with your praise. He's like a puppy, looking to you after he did a good deed, looking to you when he does a chore right. It's almost better than sex for him. Almost.

💫 He's elated when you let him lay in your lap. Despite how squeamish you were about sex, you craved physical touch and, guess what? So does he! He's obsessed with laying down and taking in your sweet scent, your fingers playing with his hair as you scroll through your phone. He adores the casual touches you leave on him, adore every time you hang onto his arm. He knows you don't mean anything romantic, but it still fills a hole to have a genuine companion that cares about him in his life. 

💫 You've helped him after a breakdown, when his mind felt like it was splitting and his ego was taking in a mind of its own- and then there you were. In all your pretty, pastel colored and pleated skirt glory.

"John?" You say softly, not approaching him just yet. Giving him the space he needs. "Do you need a hug?" He's breathing hard. He didn't know why he came to your apartment. He thought he was going back to his penthouse in Vought towers. But no. Here he was. And you're standing there, confused about your pretty features. The chaotic side of you is completely gone for the moment. He just stares at you. Of course you'd run to some bitch. A voice hisses in his head. We're a god among men and you come crawling to some fucking-  He squeezes his eyes shut. Your eyes soften. "Come on." You say, your voice soft and gently. A soft coo to him. "Let's sit you down." You open the door wider for him and he trudges in, looking completely drained. He sinks into your couch and you disappear into your room and come out with a fuzzy blanket. The one you wrap around the two of you have movie night. You drape it over him, gently. "It's ok, sweetheart," you say. "I don't know what's happening but you're safe now." He almost scoffs. No one could touch him. He was The Homelander. But… how you said it. It made his chest ache with something heavy. "Can… Can you hold me?" He practically whispers. "Of course, honey." You open your arms up for him. He immediately melts into your hold, his head pressing against the crook of your neck, his hands desperately clinging to the back of your shirt. He sucks in a breath of your scent before he breaks, fat tears rolling down his cheeks as his sobs into you.  He's not a pretty crier. But who is? You run your hand through his hair. Your cheek resting against his head. It feels strange to see a man that could be your father break down. But you had a feeling he was a mess on the inside. All that bravado and charisma making up for an abysmal childhood.  It takes him a while to calm down. His puffy eyes blinking, his blue eyes glassy, he sniffles.  "Oh, sweetie," you coo, swiping your thumb under his eyes to wipe the tear streaks away. "You look like a mess." You say softly, not to make fun of him. Just to state an obvious fact. He sniffles, glaring at you.  You smile at him and he melts.

💫 He won't let you paint his nails, but he wants to paint your nails. He has a pension for picking colors related to him. You make fun of him for it. 

💫 He lets you put accessories in his hair. ONLY when it's movie night. He did accidentally go to a meeting with a hair clip that has rhinestones that spelt 'JUICY' on it. The Seven stayed silent and he was embarrassed as hell when he saw it in the mirror of the window.

💫 HE IS ACTUALLY TRAUMATIZED WHEN YOU FIGURE OUT HE WEARS A BODYSUIT OH MY GOD. HE SUFFERS. THAT'S HOW YOU GET HIM BACK FOR MESSING WITH YOUR FLUSTEREDNESS.

"What's up, my cute stick bug." "Shut the fuck up."  You are the only person allowed to poke fun at him about that. Anyone else would get obliterated.

💫 If you involve him in picking out your outfits, he has hit Nirvana. He has truly seen heaven. He actually has a pretty solid eye for clothes. But he will take the opportunity to coordinate an outfit that has colors that compliment his hero outfit. If you notice, he'll play dumb.

💫 Anyway, congratulations, you have an OP friend. Until he isn't content with just being friends any more….

Thank you for reading! If you'd like to support me consider donating to my Ko-fi!

[genericpuff]

no but listen, rachel has truly embodied herself as persephone because she's constantly trying to "distance herself" from her past as a medical fetish artist but then keeps the name that's affiliated with her medical fetish art-

Like, I can't believe I never noticed it before tbh, but that was the thought that hit me while I was explaining to someone on reddit what the name "used bandaid" meant and why it was weird that Rachel is STILL using it on her print cover books, even now when she just recently set up a new Facebook account with her REAL NAME and not the used_bandaid penname (I feel like this is an attempt to "legitimize" herself in the industry but idk).

But that leads me into talking about how she keeps lying about LO being her first webcomic project and that really pisses me off. And yes, this is related to the used_bandaid thing, just bear with me here.

A lot of my contempt for this is for reasons that go beyond her, I just hate the notion that people should succeed on their "first try" and that's an idea that's often sold by people like Rachel who spin these grandiose stories of how they were just "trying it out" and suddenly wham! Fame and fortune! You can achieve all this and more if you just xyz!

Literally, in every interview I've found over the past couple years, she always heavily implies that LO was her "first attempt", that she had never used Webtoons prior to LO, and that she was just "dipping her toes" into the medium. None of this is true, she's literally been drawing webcomics since the early 2000's (possibly earlier but the earliest documentation we can find is of The Doctor Pepper Show), LO wasn't even her first webcomic on the Webtoons platform (that goes to The Doctor Foxglove Show which she ended up dumping a chapter in to work on LO almost immediately after starting it on Tumblr) and as much as she'll claim she "couldn't pay anyone to look at her work", she had landed a number of gigs that got her work out there, had been printed in anthology collections, and IIRC she had even won some small local NZ awards for her comics prior to LO. Shit, there was a local beer brand that had her art on its labelling.

But it really feels like she's trying her damn hardest to hide all that, never mentioning or implying that she did anything prior to LO, that she was just a "struggling graphic artist working in retail" until LO happened.

So why keep the penname that's directly affiliated with that past identity ??

It boggles my mind, honestly, especially considering she had gone by MULTIPLE usernames back then, some of which were actually pretty sane that she could have used instead (such as Rach Alex, which she uses in her FB groups, and Rachel Royale).

I wouldn't blame her if she was trying to hide her old medical fetish stuff, whether she didn't want it affiliated with her new LO branding or if she's just embarrassed by it, I can totally empathize with that because god knows I wouldn't be all that proud to show off the cringy shit I got up to during my early days on the Internet. But if she IS embarrassed by it, you'd think the last thing she'd want to keep is the name that's directly affiliated with the thing she's embarrassed by. Almost like a certain pink protagonist who goes by the name she earned after doing the thing she doesn't want to talk about.

But if she ISN'T embarrassed by it, then why lie?

Why paint this picture that LO was a one hit wonder, that she lived on "struggle street" until she found fame and fortune on Webtoons?

Oh right. Because it's a better story.

Because it's way more romantic to be some struggling indie darling who "came from nothing" and achieved fame through one big idea. Because it looks good for the platform who's trying to attract people to their app and website on the promise that you, too, can be a success story simply because you followed the exact same perceived steps that you saw another person follow and advertise.

If you can't tell from my tone, I really fucking hate this kind of disingenuous wish fulfillment advertising. It's manipulative, it's cruel, and it sets people up with expectations far beyond their scope of reaching, both due to the luck and "being in the right place at the right time" involved at best (which is a HUGE factor in stories like these that people never talk about), or through joy-killing comparison at worst when you don't achieve worldwide fame on your first try and wonder why everyone else did (spoiler: they didn't, they just want you to think that because it makes for better headlines and it gets you using whatever product they're affiliated with.)

If Rachel doesn't want to be tied down to her past, that's fine. But it's incredibly irresponsible and flat out cruel to lie about that past existing at all because it sets a horrible precedent to those who look up to her and want what she has.

And I say all that because I've seen what happens to the people starting out who admire these creators who painted the picture that they were just successful right off the bat. It's not a fun headspace to be in, it's robbed many creators like myself and others of their joy in creating, and it's really all just a ploy to get you to spend time and money and energy on a stupid corporate phone app that profits off your emotional investment and labor. Don't fall for it. Pretending like the Act of Wrath didn't happen doesn't remove it from history.

Anyways, I was gonna leave it at that, but then I ended up doing another rabbithole deep dive through her Wayback Machine and found album art she had illustrated for NZ band PorcelainToy. Enjoy this piece of her "dark era" art that still exists without needing to use the Wayback Machine.