#i do like the thought of this though i just need to find a nice work around

[s-4pphics]

the call. I (sevika + vi)

SYNOPSIS: reddit: a place for thought-dumping and being horny [college au] WORD COUNT: 9.5K WARNINGS: this was supposed to be dark but its very crack-ish, sevika and vi play rugby(kinda minor plot tbh), oc is a crazy redditor and wears skirts, STALKING, 90% SMUT MDNI(fingering + phone sex + munching + mult orgasms + dirty talk, tensionnnn) brief mentions of grief and loss bc me, recreational drug use, JUST TOXIC, abby makes an appearance later A/N: WROTE THIS WITH MY BABY!!! @trackinglessons art by lottie my love my light my everything this is a product of #OVULATIONWEEK and the #ARCANETAKEOVER

—

r/AskReddit

u/artkiller       3y

no one likes me. 

i [f18] don’t have any friends. at all. i don’t have anyone that’s not family that likes me and sometimes im convinced my family regrets keeping me adound. i just moved cities for uni and haven’t been able to have a valuable conversation with anyone and im starting to think i’m the reason why. to be honest i’ve always been the “weird” one or whatever ppl at school called me. but i don’t think im weird at all. I think i’m nice but ppl treat me like a germ lol they just stare and whisper to each other but i know they’re talking about me

does anyone have any advice on being more approachable? or whatever i’m not even sure what to call it tbh.

kewlio313 • 3y

Everybody’s weird in college! You’re young and finding yourself. Join some organizations and put yourself out there! It’ll work out kid 

     artkiller OP • 3y

     i wish there was a chess club lol 

Margie • 3y

how do you go about approaching people? 

      artkiller OP • 3y

      i just walk up and start talking about myself

      Margie • 3y

      Okay… and what’s their reaction? 

      artkiller OP • 3y

it’s different every time. sometimes they just leave, sometimes they laugh then leave, other times they’re outwardly mean. one guy told me to ‘shut the hell up bitch’ and i immediately wanted to commit a federal crime(not murder)

      Margie • 3y

      Goddamn lol. Maybe u r weird 

miKrophone • 3y

shut up hoe

     artkiller OP • 2y

     ?? :/

—

r/AskReddit

u/artkiller       2y

Advice Needed

how do you know if you’re mentally ill?

hello fellow redditors. lol. i’m finally back… very odd first term i think i got ghosted or whatever it’s called by some dude on the hockey team but yeah i plotted homicide. i’m pretty sure that situation sent me into a spiral. i think im sick. 

i’m not sure what’s going on with me but my thoughts have been really dark recently. not necessarily suicidal or harm inflicting(on myself) but… yeah… prettyyyy dark. idk. it’s weird what my brain conjures up sometimes. i guess im curious why my brain thinks the way it does. i’m not a bad person and i know that, but my brain makes me believe that i am. idk what to do at this point. i’ve never been to a professional and tbh i don’t think i should because i don’t wanna be admitted somewhere lol 

kewlio313 • 2y

Welcome back kid. It’s often better to seek help even though it can be fucking horrifying, especially in adulthood. Get help and you’ll be fine

     artkiller OP • 2y

     and if i’m not fine? what do i do then? 

     kewlio313 • 2y

To be frank, I'm not sure. I’ve been through alot and even I don’t have clear direction on life. I’ve been allowing my intuition to guide me for some time. Just try it and see what happens. Rooting for you

     artkiller OP • 2y

     thank you 

—

r/AskReddit

u/artkiller       2y

Advice Needed

am i a lesbian?

i [f19] think im attracted to females. i can’t stop staring at their tits. i always assumed my middle school peeping was from jealousy or whatever the hell twitter said but now that i’m grown i think i wanna fuck girls. or like. girl adjacents??? idk the terminology or whatever. 

PetersJoker • 2y

go eat some pussy and find out

     artkiller OP • 2y

     no fuckhead

kewlio313 • 2y

… Girl adjacents? Females? Are you actually 40? 

     artkiller OP • 2y

     is this a dig

     kewlio313 • 2y

     You crack me up. Have you experimented before? 

     artkiller OP • 2y

     i never passed a science class

     kewlio313 • 2y

     … Alright. 

 I meant hooking up. Have u kissed a girl before? Slept with one? Or whatever you youngins say these days? 

     artkiller OP • 2y

     no. i’m not a slut lol i hardly go outside 

     kewlio313 • 2y

Finding out what you like isn’t being a slut. You’re in college for fucks sake. Find you someone to lay with, ya loser. 

     artkiller OP • 2y

     or i should just shoot myself. less complicated then sex

     kewlio313 • 2y

     Maybe so, but they’re equally as messy. 

ButchesForChrist • 2y

Questioning is usually the first sign. Lol

     artkiller OP • 2y

     fuck me

     ButchesForChrist • 2y

     Well

—

r/AskReddit

u/artkiller       2y

what does sex feel like? (wlw)

[f19] just watched scissor porn for the first time. what the fuck was that. (i need it)

MisandristInTraining • 2y

the work of demons aka men

     artkiller OP • 2y

     i drink their blood

     MisandristInTraining • 2y

     Lmao

OnHorseback • 2y

Feels like dying but emotionally • 2y

     artkiller OP • 2y

     i wanna die physically 

     OnHorseback • 2y

     I’m sure some dirty fuck can set that up for you

     artkiller OP • 2y

     lit

kewlio313 • 2y

Welcome to the dark side. 

     artkiller OP • 2y

     flirt a little harder oldhead 

ButchesForChrist • 2y

Ready to come out? 

     artkiller OP • 2y

     of where

     ButchesForChrist • 2y

     Bitch…..

—

__

__

r/AskReddit

u/artkiller       2y

home sweet home. 

hello found family. been mia bc fuck school but i’m back… and i think im a sadist. 

does anyone know where rugby originated from? i like watching large women be physical w each other and i wish they would harm me in similar ways. pls push me to the floor and stomp me out(specifically directed to one pink head) i’ve been thinking dirty things all day i need her so fucking bad. is this why ppl r so obsessed with sex? bc of hot people? i get it now. i need her to bend me over and put her cleat on my neck

lezziesthatembezzle • 2y

good morning to u too bitch

     artkiller OP • 2y

     big muscly girls pls rail me from da bck 

     lezziesthatembezzle • 2y

     someone muzzle this thot

Accuntress • 2y

A dyke’s pride and joy: large women. 

kewlio313 • 2y

This is crazily your most normal post. Missed ya. Do well in school

     artkiller OP • 2y

     :3 🩷

[deleted] • 2y

The cards are in my favor 

     artkiller OP • 2y

     would you like to sex through private message? 

     [deleted] • 2y

     What the fuck you crackhead

—

r/AskReddit

u/artkiller       2y

Advice Needed

sex addiction while a virgin? 

is this possible? i shouldn’t have watched ppl with big clits trib. quite criminal. even more criminal when i’ve  imagined the girl i’ve been following around for the past 2 weeks doing it to me

[deleted] • 2y

is this who we are…. 

     artkiller OP • 2y

     obviously. 

kewlio313 • 2y

This is my last straw. 

     artkiller OP • 2y

     hugs xD

—

r/AskReddit

u/artkiller       6mo

i’m confessing. 

idc anymore. i don’t give a FUCK. i am in love. i [f21] am in love. the deepest kind i think. love at first sight truly. it’s the kind of love that’s painful. it kills and leaves behind trails of misery if betrayed or lost. whenever i see her, i cry from happiness. her joy is my joy. her hurt is my hurt. our hearts are forever intertwined no matter the distance. i’m writing this for her. if you ever see this: i love you, darling. there’s not a second that goes by where you’re not at the forefront of my mind. i’ll treasure everything we’ve built thus far, and promise to never take it for granted. i hope to die by your side. 

i love you. i love you so much. 

even if we’ve never spoken. 

kewlio313 • 6mo

Yup… she’s lost it, folks. Very deep sigh. 

     ButchesForChrist • 5mo

     That’s part of being a lesbian. She’ll live. Trust me

—

—

—

“Violet! … VIOLET!”

Why’s Sev always so loud in the goddamn library? The receptionist already has tacks on her behavior chart like some kindergartener. “I heard you! Jesus Christ, I’m sitting right fucking next to you—“

“I wouldn’t haveta fucking scream if you woulda answered me when I asked 3 days ago! Are you coming on Saturday?” 

How does she tell Sev fuck no bitch I don’t wanna go in a polite manner? It’s the first weekend after Christmas break and quite frankly, she's already sick of being on campus. Vi loves her friend to death but holy fuck does she wish she had an off button. 

“Just come the hell on and stop—“

“Dude, I—“

“You know it’s not gonna be fun if you’re not there! Half the bitches are comin’ for you! Plus… I think you could use a fun time after… y’know.” Sevika softens — only a bit, she's still Sevika. Hard ass. 

She does know. At this point, who doesn’t? Her last year of university started on a bad foot when her family home caught aflame with her little sister and father still inside, but the icing on the cake was when her long term, blue-haired girlfriend sent her the can we talk? important text. Now she’s single with corpses for relatives(she thinks her sister would’ve found that funny). Her teammates returned to campus with her; eyes mournful and hearts sunk to the bottom of their stomachs, so prepared to shield and coddle when needed. Sev was one of them: through every breakdown and anxiety attack and hungry but nauseating night. 

“I’m not tryna bring up old shit. You been through a lot and deserve some fun. That’s all I’m sayin’. Get your last bit of jitters out before the season starts.” 

Vi nods. She gets it. Losing her sister was just as much of a loss for Sev as it was for her, but somehow, she was able to ease back into herself. Become… normal again. Socializing takes so much energy outta Violet, now. She’d rather go lift or go sock the shit outta rich person. In some ways, she wishes she had as much willpower as her friend. 

She knows why Sev wants her to go. New pussy, new me, her and Abby once told her, but she’s not in the mood to smash right now. She’ll probably start crying if they don’t kiss both her cheeks before her nose like… Ugh. She shivers in disgust… and extreme longing. She misses her ex like crazy. 

“I know. I’ll, uh, think about it.” 

“M’kay… now what the fuck is epitactic theory.” 

“Girl…” 

—

r/AskReddit

u/artkiller       12mi

Advice Needed

how crazy is it to ask for a threesome from two ppl that don’t know you? 

[f21] i’m currently in my campus library watching my girlfriend study with her teammate from my stiff ass beanbag and i need them both like crack. how do i bring intercourse up without making it awkward or uncomfortable? help asap pls

also i might c her this weeknd she’s going out and i wanna go

CreamTeam • 5mi

Wait … so is she your girlfriend or not?? 😭😭 

     artkiller OP • 2mi

     we have a complicated relationship🩷

     ButchesForChrist • 1mi

     Aka she’s stalking her. Scroll down a little

     artkiller OP • 30s

     stay out my business 

     CreamTeam • 1s

     What the fuck

kewlio313 • 2mi

I thought we were better than this, honey. 

     artkiller OP • 30s

     you prob are. im not

     kewlio313 • 4s

     Deep sigh. 

Your phone drops from your jittery hands and into your lap, screen glowing with every disappointed reply from fucking Kewlio who you’ve grown to love. You like to call them a friend. A faceless, emotionally intelligent, oddly attractive friend who you’ve never met. 

The love of your life is right there, as always. Exactly 34 steps away, past the shelves littered with history novels and biographies, sat at the table surrounded by Liberal Arts textbooks and her star-littered laptop. Black jacket, black shirt, ripped black jeans, hair dyed black: that’s new. Still streaked with pink and somehow you’re even more hungry for her. She’s looked a mess recently: beaten and bruised, coming to class with black eyes and bandages across her pretty nose. It makes you wanna burn down the entire Arts and Sciences building with everyone inside of it. 

She’s annoyed with Sevika, you can tell. They’re talking about something. Maybe her sister, rest in peace. Or piss if she sucked. Whatever. A small part wishes you listened a little closer when she talked about Jinx(weird ass nickname, but okay) so you’d know exactly what to ask. She can take out any aggression or sadness on you anytime. In here, outside. You’d drop ‘em for her wherever. 

Kewlio is a dirty liar. You’re not a stalker. You’re a fan, an admirer, a lover. Your girl’s simply unassuming… How the fuck is that your fault? 

She won’t be like that for long, though. 

Vi lost her cleats a few days ago. Her black and blue ones that are worn the hell down and hanging at the seams, but she loves them. Wears them almost every match despite how unsteady they make her on the field. They’re her lucky charm, besides you, of course. 

Her lucky charm found her lucky charms. 

And by found, you mean broke into her gym locker with the code you memorized 2 years ago and snagged ‘em. She should really get those locks changed before someone takes something important. 

The explanation of how you found her cleats exactly? You’re not sure and you’re not dwelling. She’ll be so relieved that you found them that it won’t even matter. Might even drop to her knees and praise you like a God. Is she religious? One of the minor details you don’t know about her. 

But you’ll find out soon enough. No worries at all. 

You wonder how Caitlyn is doing. 

—

Rabbit holes are either your best friend or worst enemy. Today, they’re straddling the fence. Your brain never shuts off when you're in a crisis. You’re ovulating, overstimulated, and searching for a cure from someone you’ve never said hello to. 

The internet can solve your problems though. Especially if they’re sex-deprived millennials. Their long-term lack of human contact makes for some hilarious stories and useful what-not-to-dos. 

how to finger a vagina 

vagina g spot where is it

where is clit vagina

vagina map

scissoring hacks positions

lesbian sex how to

can lesbians do anal 

is mommy kink a trauma response

Reddit searches are always on your side. All answers to the world at the tip of your fingers. You love the media! Squirting is not pee evidently. PornHub comments are not a reliable source. You should ask your girlfriend if she squirts. 

Caitlyn would know. Fucking BITCH!

how to make girlfriend come

Mansplainer misogynists geeking about making their wives do housework while they sit on their asses and flirt with young Discordians. ‘I clap and she appears’

…

You should craft a bomb that only targets cis-het men because what the fuck is going on right now. 

how to make girlfriend cum

‘[M48] I’ve never made my wife climax and we’ve been together for 15 years and have 2 children’

Your eyes are fucking burning. Is it bad to wish death on a person? Cursed imagery. Your fingers attempt to salvage the last bits of your sanity. 

how to make girlfriend orgasm wlw

date ideas lesbian

am i crazy quiz

insanity quiz

You’re normal you’re okay you’re literally fine. 

mental illness signs for lesbians

what does dying feel lik

“Ma’am.”

You gasp sharply. Librarian. Fuck oh shit

“Hi. We’re, uh, lockin’ up, so…” 

You’re still at the library. How much time has passed? How many rabbit holes have you fallen into? Where’s your girlfriend? Her and Sev are gone… 

But you know where to find your g-spot! Hooplah!

“Oh ye— Yeah! Uhh… bye.” You stand so fast you get whiplash. Your backpack beats against your back when you adjust the straps on your shoulders. Headphones on, music blasting, and just like that, the world is off and you’re on. Right into the darkness of the city. 

You love a stripper’s playlist in times like this. 

You love Reddit in times like this. 

You walk and walk with an extra skip in your step. Time to drive Kewlio crazy. 

r/AskReddit

u/artkiller       1s

guys im happy

the joy that i feel rn is unmatched. i love my life. im so excited for the future. thank you god and or universe for these blessings

And post. Nothing could wipe the smile off your face. Nothing nothing nothing you love it here! You love school. You love your girlfriend and her friends and her sport. 

“Oof—“

“AH—“

You back connects with the angles of your hardcovers and fuck you hope your laptop survived that drop. Not enough cushion in your bag to cover that fall fuck your life you hate everyone—

“YOU FU—“

“Holy fuckin’ shit I’m so sorry are you ok—“

And your mouth zips. Oh…

Oh. 

Your girl’s in running shorts. Squeezing her thighs good ‘n tight and she glistens with sweat, brows pulled down in concern as she eyes you from above. If the fun was still out, the rays would dress her head like a halo. A heavenly sight. You’d die here… but not before a drop of her sweat falls on your face. You need that at least once. Zooweeema—

“Are you oka— fuck, gimme your hands, up ya go, c’mon—“

Oh she’s talking. And grabbing you. 

Your hands are warmed by skin and your spine tickles when you’re pulled to your feet like a feather. The pain in your back and shoulders don’t fucking matter anymore. Life works in mysterious ways, doesn’t it?

“Hi, Vi.” 

“I’m— hey, uh… do we know each other?” 

We love each other actually! 

“No— I uh, sorry! I go to watch your matches and all that. Kinda a fan… Sorry if that’s weird—“

“No no no no, not weird at all. Uh, very flattering actually. ‘Preciate it.” 

You’re gonna fucking pass out. 

“Are you okay though? Nothing hurts, right?” And your knees wobble when a squeezing hand lands on your shoulder, gauging you for pain. No pain. Just deprived. Needy. Desperate. Touch me some more. 

“M good.” 

“Cool…” Her hand drops and you nearly screech like a banshee, “And your name? Sorry bout t—“

You interrupt with yours and she smiles. Nice to meet you, she says with gravel and your heart grows another heart inside of another heart. Holy fucking you’re boutta

“I like rugby.” 

Kill yourself. You’re boutta kill yourself. 

Vi’s eyes widened before nodding in agreement, “Yeah… me too. If it wasn’t obvious enough. It’s a great… stress reliever.” 

So is sex, according to Sexcopedia.edu. Do me. 

“Really? It looks painful sometimes.” 

She sighs with tension, “It is. We gotta lot of aggressive people playing against us so we have to always… do more. I guess, I dunno. But whenever I’m mad it’s great. Very useful.”

“Are you mad often?” 

“Are you studying psychology?” She pins with an arched, slit brow, but her eyes remain light and friendly. It’s funny, she doesn’t appear to be this approachable with her grunge-ness.  

“Nah. I need to, though. Could do me some good.” 

Her laugh is hearty. Genuine. “Shit, me too. Help me out.”

“Do you wanna be my friend?” 

She seems stunned and you don’t know why. Doesn’t banter create friendship? Whatever. Fuck it. She can say no. You don’t care. You still got her shoe—

“Gimme your phone—” 

Your heart drops to the floor, through the concrete, right into the center of the Earth’s crust waiting to burn and cease to exist. She’s got you figured out. You’ve been exposed and she’s gonna fry you in the middle of the damn street

“—I’ll put my number in.” 

… Oh.

You meticulously make sure your notis are deleted and OFF before handing her your device with the keypad on display. Her fingers are pretty and nimble. Flexible with how slender they are. Pretty hands. Pretty, blue veins and you're instantly reminded of her ex. You hate the color blue. 

She hands your phone back, “That’s me. Hit me up when you get… wherever you’re going. And lemme know if I need to cover your medical expenses for spinal cord surgery.” 

You laugh. Really fucking loudly and she flinches, but smiles after. She’s so fucking cute! Is this flirting? 

“Y-Yeah, I will.”

Her head tilts fondly, “Cool.”

“Cool.” 

She gives you one last look before plugging her earbud in to continue her jog. You check her contact to make sure it’s real and fuck you have her fucking number! Fuck fuck fuck fuck

You leap like the happiest frog in the pond when she’s out of your line of view and a sharp pain whips through your shoulder blades. 

—

r/AskReddit

u/artkiller       3mi

lads i just got proposed to. spring wedding in sweden

number collected. so it begins. 

kewlio313 • 48s

Christ help us all. 

CreamTeam • 10s

Ring pics. 

     artkiller OP • 3s

     cawk ring pics***

     CreamTeam • 1s

     Should’ve fuckin known. I hate you genuinely 

—

r/AskReddit

u/artkiller       30s

when’s a good time to text the girl you’re obsessed with? 

[f21] soooo i’m laying in bed lookignat her contact and idk what to do. i’ve fantasized about this so many times and now its in my lap… im so used to shit going wrong that idk how to react to it going right. it’s kinda late but i really wanna talk to her but idk she might be sleep or whatever. 

should i scale her building and check if she’s awake? :(

—

Vi doesn’t know why there’s a pit in her stomach. She sits on her teammate’s fluffy rug with a smoked out Sevika who patiently waits for her green light, but it hasn’t come. She feels an oncoming breakdown and she needs a babysitter just in case. 

“Finish this for me?” A roach floats in front of Vi’s face before she pushes it away. 

“No.”

“Buzzkill.” 

Sev and Vi sit in silence for 12 seconds before the roach is stolen and hit by the latter. Sevika snickers. Vi drops her head on the couch and exhales her worries through clouds. Stressed, anxious riddled, maybe not the best headspace to get high but fuck it. 

“Whatcha thinking about?”

She shrugs, “Everything.”

“Talk ta me. What’s happening.”

Vi’s face burns when her mind plagues with you. Your giant bifocals and smudged mascara and acrylic-stained hoodies. You had a backpack on… Could be a student here. You might be a freshman. Vi hates making assumptions about strangers but you seemed a little… 

Immature? Your eyes were too shiny to be a senior. 

“You’re gonna laugh…” 

“I’ll always laugh at your stupid ass,” She snickers. “What happened, though, seriously.” 

Wafts of smoke curl around her words, “I almost bulldozed a girl earlier.” 

Sevika scrabbles to her knees with a slack jaw, “WHAT THE—“

“Oh my fucking god can you be normal for—“

“BITCH BULLDOZED? WHAT THE FUCK FREAKY ASS BITCH—“ 

“NOT LIKE THAT!” Vi scoffs, “I went on a run and bumped into her! Fucking WEIRDO!”  

Sevika slumps back on her ass, clearly disappointed, “… Oh.”

Vi tends to the roach until her fingertips burn, stubbing out the burnt paper on Sevika’s ashtray. When she looks up, she finds a very intrigued looking fox. Here she fucking goes. 

“She hot?”

Vi’s sigh is littered with agitation at her friend while she laughs, “I hadta fucking ask! Tell me! She smell good?” 

“I don’t fuckin’ remember! We talked for like… 2 minutes!” 

“2 is enough time to check her out. Show’a hands, how fat were her tits? Like this?” Sevika mimes holding watermelons that are too goddamn heavy and Vi cringes. 

“You fucking disgust me.” 

Sevika relaxes back onto her elbows, legs extended in front of her. Her brow quirks when she catches Vi’s gaze drop to her waist, “Meh. You like that about me.” 

“Sometimes. Not when I’m in a crisis.”

“Meeting a girl is a crisis now?” 

“Yes! I don’t fucking know, she was…” 

Honestly, Vi’s unsure how to describe you. 

“Does she at least go here! You’re not giving me shit to work with.” 

“I DON’T KNOW—“

“DON’T FUCKING YELL AT ME—“

Vi groans with her palms in her eyes, “She just asked to be friends. She told me she watches us play and that she’s—“

“Back the fuck up,” Sevika raises up again, “Do you not see what’s happening here!” 

“…” 

“You’re actually fucking stupid, wow,” She scoffs, “You know she set all that up, right?” 

“… What in the fuck are you talking abou—“

“She ran into you on purpose! She’s a fan bitch!” Sev reaches for her phone on the coffee table, “What’s her Instagram?” 

Vi whines, “I don’t know—“

Before Sevika can cuss her out for the 40th time, she bursts, “I GAVE HER MY NUMBER!”

“… Did you get hers?” 

“…” 

“BROTHER—“

“Shut up! I’m not… I don’t flirt! I don’t know how, not anymore! She caught me off guard honestly.”

“What's her name?” 

Vi sheepishly mumbles your title; it’s slimy the way it curls on her tongue. You were so nice and now she’s setting you up to be pestered by her best friend. 

It’s silent for 3 minutes, only the pittering of Sevika’s fingers on her device while she hunts for you. Another 4 pass before she tosses her phone in annoyance. 

“You sure you weren’t hallucinating? Nothing’s poppin’ up.” 

“You’re so annoy—“

WHO THAT IN THE BAAAAAAACK, WHO THAT IN THE BAAAAAAACK

Vi’s phone screen glows gray with an unsaved number across the top… One with their area code… Sevika watches the number scroll like a hawk. The smile that grows on her face is crooked. And knowing. 

It’s 11PM. It’s not you. It couldn’t be you. 

“That’s your ringtone?” Sevika snorts. 

“Shut up.” Why’s she so anxious all of a sudden? Her sweaty palms aren’t enough to stop her from reaching for the device, though. 

She answers and puts you on speaker. 

“Hello?” 

“…Hi. It’s me.” 

Sevika’s brow lifts in questioning. Is that her? She mouths and Vi nods. Her eyes roll when her friend whispers, cute voice.  

She’ll never say, but Sevika’s presence re-energizes her. Makes her a little more playful, so she teases, “Me who?” 

A beat of silence passes before you start mumbling to yourself, “I’m gonna fuckin’ throw up is this the wrong per—“

Sevika’s hand flies over her mouth to smother her laughter while Vi coddles you; laughs that she’s joking and that she was waiting on your call. Her cheeks burn when her teammate throws her an accusatory look. 

“Do you mean it?” 

“Mean what?” 

“That you’ve been waiting on me?” 

Before Vi can answer, Sev raises up onto her knees and mimes fucking somebody from the back, face slack with faux and exaggerated pleasure. She ignores the sinful jolt in her tummy and flings a throw pillow right at her face. 

“Yeah, ‘course I was…” 

And then it’s silent again. Her muscles freeze with every deep breath you take over the phone. Sevika waits expectantly, talk to her, she says with flapping fingers. 

“Whatcha up to?” 

“… Uhh… nothing?”

Your laugh is featherlight, “Are you asking me?” 

“Maybe?” 

Sevika’s had enough of the tomfoolery. She wiggles over and hits the mute button with a heavy slam. Leans in close while she whispers, 

“Dude, she’s tryna fuck—“

“No, she isn’t—“

“Yes she is, dodo, did you hear how she was talkin’?” Her tone heightens in pitch, mocks seduction, “You were waiting on me, baby?—“

“H-Hello?” Your mumble is drenched with insecurity. Sevika doesn’t give a fuck. 

“See?” She nearly screams, “She’s DJin’ right now—“

Violet shoves her back before unmuting, “Sorry, m’here…”

“… Was it a bad time to call?” You’re quieter now. Ashamed sounding. Embarrassed. 

“Not at all! Sorry, I was smoking earlier, makes me lose my train of thought.”

“It’s okay…” 

“You make it home safe?” 

“Mhm. I was about to fall asleep but then I remembered to call, so…”

Vi catches her smile before her friend can bully her for it, “So, you called…” 

“Yes,” said excitedly. She can hear your smile. Very puppy-like. Cute. Vi jolts when Sev starts snoring obnoxiously fucking loud. She flicks her forehead. 

“Is someone there with you?” 

Both their eyes widen. A sharp hand raises to slap Sevika, but she flinches before it lands, “Sorry. Just my stupid ass roommate.”

“Hi, Sevika.” 

You’re oddly calm…. But why wouldn’t you be? You had no other intent for this phone call other than keeping your promise. They still share a look though; a brief flash of intrigue and skepticism. How’d you know…

It’s not pondered on for long by Sevika before she sings, “Hey, sweetheart.” 

You sound like the wind has knocked outta you. “H-Hi.” 

Sev singles for Vi to pass the phone over to her. She obliges with a hard stare, “I was just passing through, but while I’m here, I gotta couple… questions. That good with you?” 

“Yes.” 

“Good. You single?”

“Mhm. For forever, sadly.”

“Great. Are we at the same school?” 

“Duh. I’m at every match. We’re, uh… graduating together if everything goes as planned.” 

So definitely not a freshman. Just when Vi thought it was impossible to finish college without a chip on your shoulder. You seem to have made it through just fine. 

Despite Sevika’s reputation of being cold-hearted and abrasive with wicked flirtation skills, she speaks to you like you’ve been in her life for years. Gentle. Inquiring. She lays flat on her stomach with her feet kicked up behind her, “What’s your major?” 

“Architectural engineering. What’s yours?” 

“You’re so smart. ‘M doing mathematics. You should tutor me when you getta chance.”

“Sure. Just lemme know when. I’m always in the library, so.” 

“Well, what a fucking coincidence, so are we! You coulda dropped by and said hello if that was the case.” 

“I’m trying to do that now… Am I doin’ okay?”

“Just fine actually. Aren’t you sweet.” 

“I taste sweeter.” 

Sevika drops the phone on the plush rug beneath them. Sits upright with urgency. Gawks at Vi whose jaw is nearly in her lap. There’s hardly any air in her chest. She squabbles for her phone and ensures that the volume is all the way up. Holds the device right in between them. 

“… Swear? I don’t think that’s possible.” Sevika hums at you, holding her roommate’s gaze while her tongue traces over the dryness on her lip. 

“You could find out… Both of you can if you wanna.” 

“‘S that easy?” Sevika rasps, and Vi flinches when her breath hits her mouth. Leans in a bit closer to feel more on her face. 

“Why do you sound like that?” Vi huffs at your genuine curiosity. You’re so fucking cute, fuck. 

“Because you’re turning me on, hon,” Her gaze washes over Vi and her skin burns with trails. “Both of us.” 

“Oh… cool.” You exhale unsteadily. They can’t help but laugh at you. “Cool?” Vi repeats. 

“Yeah. Awesome. I’ve never done that to someone before.” 

“You a virgin?” 

“Yup.”

“FaceTime us.”

“I have a Samsung.” 

Both girls explode into laughter, “We’ll call you, then, Jesus—“ Vi sends an eager finger towards the small camera before you mumble, 

“Who says I’ll answer?” 

Sevika tuts, “You don’t wanna watch us kiss?” 

“I’d rather watch in person.” 

Sevika throws Vi a look and she’s instantly reminded of Abby. Usually, that glance — filled with an equal amount of tenderness of filth — is shared between her teammates and she’s forced to endure whatever nonsense they plan to take out on somebody together, but now she’s here. Sevika’s including her in such a sacred ritual. She’s suddenly skittish, “You’re killing me, baby. Whatcha doing this weekend?” Sev quiets, timbre amorous. 

“Playing Overwatch.” 

“Fuck that shit. Come to Kappa on Saturday. Everybody’s goin’.” Sevika snips down at Violet, and she whines while her fingers dig into her roomie’s tank top. A little closer, and they’re kissing. Just an inch—

“What’s Kappa?”

Vi giggles, “House,” Sevika mumbles against Vi’s mouth, “Frat house. Right off 16th. It's bright blue, can’t miss it.”  

“‘K, I’ll go. See ya there.”

“Wh—“

Three dial tones break through the smoke in the air before the screen goes dark, both girls left stunned and… very tempted to track your location. Maybe pop a titty for your RA in exchange for your room number. Wouldn’t be the first time…

… Is that too much? 

It could be, but you didn’t hesitate to drop bomb after proposition, and the selfish part of her heart can’t help but think you wouldn’t mind two ravenous strangers at your front door. The knowledge that they’d give you everything you needed would be enough for you to allow them entry. 

And the way Sevika’s staring at her… Craving, but careful. She’s so patient. 

It’s been such a long time — two years since they’ve had any physical connection. Drunken nights, quickies in the locker room showers— the distractions from grief were all put on the back shelf when Vi got into her relationship. Sevika’s a sleaze, not a homewrecker — most times, so she kept her hands to herself out of respect, no matter how many times Violet would catch her staring where she knew was off limits. 

Vi can't get to you, but she can get to Sevika. 

So she yanks her close, dissolves the space between them as their mouths collide with heat and a newfound ache for you in the middle. Sevika’s just as rough as she remembers — pushes her down so her back molds to the floor, entangles a cinched hand in her hair to pull and expose her neck to the attacks. She’s got blotches and teeth marks on her throat — the unrestrained and possessive and her stomach flips. She gasps at the ceiling when her nightshirt shreds under a forceful hand. 

She hasn’t had the heart to have sex in months — propositions were turned down on dozens of occasions because her mind couldn’t focus on enjoying. Every second of euphoria gets overshadowed by hollow, unforgiving guilt. 

You sparked something in her with your forwardness, that curiosity that left her aching to read your mind. Her best friend, too, evidently. 

Every movement is fast. She crawls down her torso with intent — fangs sharp where they leave blood down her sternum. Vi’s fingers pry Sevika’s shirt off, her tongue separating from her waist for mere seconds before reattaching. An eager hand fondly moves her friend’s hair out of her face. 

You want it? Sevika’s eyes read. 

Yes, I want it, please. Vi says aloud. Eager with a twisting hand in her scalp. 

Sevika sends waves through Vi with every wrestle her tongue devotes to her clit. She can’t think of anything but Sevika and you and both of you at the same time; on top of her — you sat on her face while Sevika’s fingers drove inside her. She wants her tongue inside you; unrelenting and feverish until you scream and soak her tongue in your sweetness. 

Sevika eats like she’s hungry. She eats like she misses having her like this and that wounds Vi up tight; it sends shockwaves down her legs. Makes her twitch, but Sevika forces her still with a tight grip on her waist. 

Vi curses with fluttery eyes when a finger — then two, circles around the entrance that aches for a stretching. 

They’re heaven sent when they push in. She’s getting fucked like she’s hated and she loves it. She deserves to feel like nothing; her walls are selfish where they encase the digits that bring her to the sun, massage against every sensitive ridge just how she needs. Her mouth spills with whatever energy she has left within her; slurred and drooled fuck yes yeses. She can barely conjure a warning when her core locks tight, right before she explodes. 

There’s wetness everywhere while she pulses through her pleasure, thighs squeezing around Sevika’s head with every satisfied moan that vibrates on her clit. Tells Violet to give her more and to take it take it take whatever she gives her like she knows she can. 

It’s not until Violet starts sobbing and Sevika’s mouth is dripping wet that she pulls out and separates from her completely. She kisses her pussy gently before shifting to help unlock Violet’s knees. She shivers with every peck that’s trailed up her torso to her chest to her neck. 

Sevika laughs when Vi does, choked and clogged, but elated and genuine. It’s been so long since her body’s felt this light. 

“You needed that. Ya look better already,” Sevika cackles. “Can you stand?” 

“Fuck off, gimme a sec.” Vi shoves playfully at her chest. 

—

—

—

r/AskReddit

u/artkiller       3s

guys. 

i love being a liar. it makes me feel alive never let a bitch tell you lying is wrong it literally makes life so much easier!! wishing everyone a good night. 

everything’s going as planned. just one more tally on the board and we’re set

—

—

—

r/AskReddit

u/artkiller       20mi

Advice Needed

it’s been 24 hours and my girl who’s not my girl has been texting me nonstop. 

[f21] hello. im in a crisis but a good one? if that’s possible. long story short im in love but not dating the girl im in love with yet. i took some of y’all’s flirting advice and i think it worked. im betting my life that yall do witchcraft. i barely said anything to her and now she won’t me😝😝😝 and tbh… i think her friend won’t me too!!!!! she’s always asking about my day and asking if i ate and if id wanna eat with her but i always decline bc im not ready physically mentally like i’m gonna combust the second she walks up to me i barely survived our first interaction…… but her friend invited me to a party tomorrow night…….. wtf do i wear to that i’ve never been outside before LOL

might get a train ran on me…… WE’LL SEE FRIENDS 

adding her undies to the shrine🩷 yaaaay

CreamTeam • 14mi

bro is she your girlfriend or not? It’s been years at this point. 

     artkiller OP • 12mi

     yes i mean no or yes :)

kewlio313 • 7mi

Wear something that you wouldn’t wear to your parents funeral. Good luck dear 

     artkiller OP • 5mi

     i would whore out if my family died

     kewlio313 • 2mi

     Good God. 

—

What does genuine happiness feel like? 

You’re unsure how long you’ve been on your beanbag, but Violet and Sevika have been laughing since you sat down. They’re so relaxed around each other, content with silence. Accepting of failure. 

You’re not a jealous person at all. Far from, actually, but something furies from within whenever you see them — or people, in general, gleeful; the desperation to feel. You haven’t had the privilege. Maybe that’s why you cling to whatever you have with Vi. She has birthed a wanting inside you. A desire for connection after spending decades comforted by the sound of your own voice. Or comments under your posts. 

Violet makes you happy. And Sevika might, too. Just as long as she doesn’t get too close to your light. 

You’re standing right behind Sevika. She can’t see you, but Vi can. Her fear is swiftly overshadowed by delight. She greets you with a smile that makes your heart throb. 

Sevika’s gaze wanders down to your legs, that remain exposed despite the weather, 

“You’re not cold?” She asks. Not exactly the introduction you were expecting, but that makes you giddy. Vi must tell her about you! 

“Yes,” You say with ease, “Y'all should come to my room. It’s warmer there.” 

Vi nods after gawking, 2 books immediately tucked to her chest with her bag on her back. Sevika just laughs. She gets it. You like that. 

—

r/AskReddit

u/artkiller       1s

Advice Needed

how do i mentally prepare for sex? (virginity)

literally fucking freezing walking to my room rn with two burly butches that i want to throw me around and i think they’re going to bc they’re not talking to me but the y are very close i don’t want them to see my screen guys im about to have a threesome pls fucking help me

—

“Cute room.” Violet says, inspecting your horror movie posters and stuffed animals. 

“Thank you.” You smile. 

I hid the 14 polaroids of you that I had taped to my door. Hope that makes you more comfortable! 

“It’s just you in here?” Sevika chimes, eyes glued to the small bed up against the wall, right next to your PC setup. You should ask if they game afterwards. 

“Yes.” 

Violet takes her jacket off and hangs it on your doorknob. 

“Already takin’ off your clothes?” You plop down onto your freshly made mattress. Both girls look very stiff in your space; Is that normal? Maybe they’re nervous. 

Both girls laugh the same. “Not like that. It is warm in here.” Sevika follows in Vi’s lead, removing her hoodie and her undershirt is squeezing her and yup those arms are still there those muscles are popping out yup yup yup—

“Yeah. I can’t sleep in the cold.” You pat your bedspread for them to sit… and they do. On either side of you. Vi brought her notebook and pencil. Sevika brought her heavily ringed hands. 

She scoffs, “Me neither. Immune system is worse than a newborn’s.” 

“Do you get sick easily?” 

“Yes. I just got over it last week.” 

“Damn…” 

“Almost got me sick,” Violet pins playfully, skimming through her pages. She erases before rewriting. So so so so smart; too bad both her answers were wrong. You’ll show her the way soon enough. 

“Coach would hate me. Her star pupil’s under the weather, what ever shall we do,” Sevika mocks and you both chuckle. 

“The season starts next week. Y’all nervous?” 

“No—“ “Yes—“

“I’m nervous for games, not practice,” Vi corrects, “I can’t find my fuckin’ shoes.” 

“What shoes?” 

“My cleats. My sister got ‘em for me a while ago, wear ‘em every match for good luck. I don’t remember where I fucking put them though.” 

“Aww, ‘m sorry.” 

Sorry for keeping them in my closet. 

“S whatever. Just gotta get new ones.” 

Small talk is boring as fuck, but it continues between you and Vi. Sevika’s quiet as a mouse; every glance in her direction is met with hooded eyes. She’s very focused on your nightstand drawer. Can she see what’s inside it? You hope so; Maybe your unworn thongs will motivate them to move this along. 

“Awww! Wait, you used to play soccer?” 

You already know all this. It’s on her fucking Instagram for fucks sake! 

“On the junior team when I was like… 10! I was—“

Trash. I kept tripping over the fuckin’ ball—

“—And forgetting to tie my shoes. It was a hot fucking mess!” 

Yup. Same as the caption. 

The laughter between you finally quiets. You count 12 seconds in your head. You raise a hand to place it on the Hello Kitty bandage directly under her eye. 

“What happened here?” 

Sevika’s breathing is very calming. 

“Got in a fight,” Vi mumbles. Poor things embarrassed! “Got socked in the eye.” 

“Sorry,” Your hand rests in your lap, “Did I hurt you?”

“You’re good… still stings though. They gotta good one in.” 

“How’d it happen?” 

“Don’t remember honestly.”

“Oh okay.” 

The conversation ends. Another 12 seconds. 

“So… Did you guys fuck after I hung up?” 

Sevika smiles and Vi chokes in shock. They’re so different. No wonder they’re so close. 

“I— sorry, thought we were studying—“

“Who said we were gonna study?” You stare at Vi quizzingly. 

“No one did. We mighta fucked.” Sevika shrugs nonchalantly. 

“Oh… was it fun? Whatever it was.”

“Ask her.” She nods in direction of the girl whose face is beet fucking red. How cute! 

“Vi… was it fun?” 

Her eyes droop to the pencil in her hand before flicking it nervously. 

“… I guess.” 

“You guess?”

“That’s what I said.” 

“… Okay.” 

Vi sets her book and pencil on your nightstand before releasing a stuttered sigh. 

“Tell me what happened if ya wanna,” Softness wafts off your tongue. 

Vi swallows, “I… uh…”

“Mhm?”

“We… I didn’t…”

“I gave her head til she cried.” Sevika whispers right in your ear; tickling against your lobe and you’re suddenly winded. Vi’s legs twist until one crosses over the other. 

Gave… Oh…

This isn’t new information. You’re 79% sure Sevika was Vi’s first kiss… or you heard something like that in passing, so why does the sudden confirmation make you wanna hide? Curl into your blankets and shield yourself from both of them? 

“Oh… fun.” Your face burns underneath the skin.

“Very.” 

“Yup…” 

“You’re shy now? After all that?” Sevika almost laughs when your eyes drop to the floor. 

“It’s uh, easier to talk when no one’s actually there.” 

“We coulda been if you’d answered the fucking phone.” 

“… Sorry.” 

“It’s okay, baby.” 

Sevika’s captain of the team for a reason; a leader by nature and Vi allows her to despite her anticipation. She's much closer now, the respectful distance she kept up upon arrival now completely shut, her shoulder touching yours, nearly straddling your leg. 

There’s a light tickle on your thigh; Sevika’s index finger barely grazes the skin exposed beneath the hem of your skirt. 

“You’re so stiff,” She whiffs tender against your neck and you choke a noise. 

“I’m … ‘mscaredtobreathe—“

“Don’t be scared,” Sevika’s whole hand caresses your knee, eases you into her, all while Vi mouths at your neck. “Here, wanna know a secret?”

You release the air in your lungs, “Sure…” 

She’ll never tell, so I will. Your head bobs so encouragingly. 

Vi told me something after she showered that night. 

With every buttery brustle against your shoulder, Vi’s hands gently attack wherever they can reach; the plush of your hips, on your thighs, grabbing at your tummy over your hoodie that takes up too much fucking space for her liking. You can’t stop squirming with every taut pull at the pit of your stomach. 

I was sitting on my bed and she came in, and she smelled so good. I was trying to roll up again, but she took my tray and put it on my dresser… 

Roll up? Tray? What what what the fuck is she saying—

And she got on her knees in front of me… and she looked so fucking cute just staring up at me like that, like she’d do anything to make me happy… She’s sweet like that if she’s in the mood. 

She said ‘may I practice on you, please?’… And I said okay… So she pulls down my underwear and treats me so well. You wanna know who she was practicing for? 

Yes, yes, please—

It was you, baby. She kept telling me how good she wanted to make your first time. 

A strained noise chokes from your throat, and Vi smiles against your ear before her lips close around your lobe and it’s too much they’re too much—

Uh huh, and her tongue felt so fucking good on me. Almost impressive… and she loved every second of it. 

Please… please, I’m— 

Listen to that, Violet, she’s so fucking cute, isn’t she?

So sweet, too. Bet she tastes so fucking good. 

She’s so hungry for you, baby, Sevika coos at you, Gonna stop teasing and give us what we want? 

You agree obediently — desperately, with every thrumming cell you can use at the moment. 

Vi’s benign hand rests on your cheek to turn you towards her before kissing you softly. A gentle peck before she pulls away. It’s overstimulating; Vi kissing and touching you like you’re made of glass while Sevika sucks large bruises on the side of your throat. Your nails dig into the muscular thigh that hardly shakes at your grip in attempts to ground yourself, but they fail because you’re about to faint. 

Your sun kisses you deeper, holds your face tighter to keep you where she needs to tongue at your lips. You’re trying to keep up with her, to use the muscle like she uses hers, but you’re falling behind. They don’t seem to mind, satisfied with the fact that they’re gonna devour you regardless. 

And when Vi lays you back nice and cozy against your pillows while Sevika kisses all over your face, you know you’re fucked. 

—

Sevika and Vi take turns kissing you. 

It’s a messy and uncoordinated mess of teeth and saliva, mainly because of you, but you like it. You love it. You hope they do, too. The warmth of their bodies beside you resonates deep in your core. Whenever one of them pulls away, the next is more than open to take her place, over and over. Your thighs are already shaking. 

Your hoodies raised up thanks to Vi’s wandering hands, tucked right above your rib cage. Your stomach jolts when a feathery finger teases at the band of your skirt. 

“You ticklish?” Vi mutters against your cheek. 

“… Nope.” 

“Yes—” She swipes the same finger against your exposed skin and you jump with a giggle, “you are. Liar.”

“Fuck you!” 

“Yeah… I really, really want to.”

She doesn’t give you time to think of a response; just kisses you one last time before climbing onto her knees. Meanwhile, Sevika’s struggling to get comfortable in your bed. She’s essentially on top of you, both her legs wrapped around one of yours. 

“Fucking — small ass mattress! I forgot how much I hate these!” 

“S-Sorry! Couldn’t afford anything else — mmh!”

Sevika reconnects your mouths while the bed dips beside you. Then there’s lips on your tummy. 

Laughter explodes outta you; Sevika can’t help but laugh into your mouth while Vi nibbles at your pudge. Her grin glows on your skin before her tongue glides on your hip. Her attention stays there; sloppy noises from above and below, your gasps swallowed with every bite Vi gives you. 

You hardly register her pulling your skirt down. You’re just colder. And fuzzier in the head. Sevika breaks away to ask, 

“How wet is she?”

Huh— oh she’s not talking to you yup yup—

“Come see.” 

Sevika rises from position and you’re even colder. When she whistles at the spot on your underwear, your thighs squeeze shut… for 000.3 seconds before she pries them open again. 

“Stop I’ll fucking cry—“

“Cry about what? That’s so fucking hot. You’re so cute, baby.” 

“Bro I wanna die—“

Sevika rolls her eyes, “Bust one last time at least, damn.” 

“Can we make it quick please I’m already on the verge—“

“Of cumming?” Sevika purrs.

“Of suicide—“

Vi’s in hysterics. You shouldn’t be this fucking funny. She watches you and Sevika go back and forth with tears in her eyes. 

You bite, “Wonky ass foreplay—“

“I’ll strangle you—“

“I’ll like it—“

Both of you are fucking stupid. Neither of you notice Vi tugging your panties down. She almost starts drooling at the sight of your pussy. Swallows down the lump of saliva before it can drip down her chin. You’re wet and throbbing and pretty and you smell like heaven. 

You gasp when two curious fingers separate your sticky lips; strings of slick cling to Vi’s digits. Sevika watches with an insatiable hunger.

“What do you like?” Vi whispers, and you shrug. 

“I dunno, I’m new here.” 

She rolls her eyes, “I mean what do you do when you touch yourself? 

“I don’t do that.” 

“Never?” Both girls exclaim. 

You shake your head. “I tried once and nothing happened so I just ate spaghetti and went to bed.” 

“Were you wet?” 

Vi’s forbearing with her inquiries, but still, you’re on the fucking spot and you might start sneezing from anxiety. They’re too patient with you; Maybe you’ve been misreading how they were in bed this entire time. You were expecting them to be knuckles deep in every available hole by now. 

You’ve never been so nervous, and for you, that’s saying a lot. “I don’t remember, it was years ago.” 

“You’ve never used toys or anything?” 

“I… No.”

Sevika stares at Vi, and Vi at Sevika, and you at the wall. 

Your thighs twitch when velvet nuzzles at them, Vi’s voice deep as the ocean. “I’m gonna try something, tell me if you like it and I’ll keep going… okay?” 

You can’t formulate a response but your head bounces in approval. A finger applies the gentlest of pressure on your clit and you expel a wheeze. 

“Okay?” Sevika hums from above you, a hand easing underneath your hoodie to massage your breast. 

“Ye-ah—“

“Sit up for me, honey,” She whispers and you obey so she can creep in behind you, your back resting against her chest. Both her hands rub at your chest this time, her fingers massage your nipples while Vi strokes your clit in slow, teasing circles. 

“How’s this feel, babe?” 

“G— good! Great… h-hooray?” How do pornstars dirty talk so eloquently? You’re literally fucking dying right now. Sevika laughs to herself in your neck and your chest burns. 

“Yeah? And this?” She utters right before pressing in, flicking you from side to side and your core squeezes tight. You’re dripping and she watches so closely. 

“Oh fuck—“

“There she is, good girl, just feel what she’s givin’ you.” Sevika rasps against your shoulder. 

You are feeling and it’s too much for your body to comprehend. Your brain’s never been this focused on one thing. On one feeling, especially one this enjoyable. It’s so good it’s so good you love your fucking girlfriend—

“Tell me when you’re gonna cum?” Vi says against your soft skin

“Uhh…? I— oh god—“

“Getting there, baby? Feel how tight you’re getting? I can see it.”

2 ragged inhales and your eyes roll back and your jaw slacks and your nose tickles oh shit—

“Yeah, yeah, give it to me, c’mon—“

ACHOO!

Your thigh squeezes shut when euphoria overtakes your entire system; thighs clamping shut around Vi’s wrist while she giggles and rubs out your pleasure with ease because she’s stronger than you. Your initial efforts of staying as silent as possible were in vain because you’re squealing your little head off. Sevika rests back on her hands and watches like a hawk while you thrash and clench and leak all over her roommate’s hand. 

“Good job. Felt nice, hm?” 

You struggle to nod because you’re still cumming so hard and her fingers won’t cease on you. Your thighs stick together with your wetness. 

“I’m still eating you out, you know that, right?”

Your whines of approval sound wounded. 

You couldn’t see it, but when Vi finally pulled her hand from you, slurping noises swiftly followed, alongside Sevika’s hums of satisfaction. 

Mentally preparing for your burial. 

—

Vi might be obsessed with you. 

She’s back in her original position between your thighs — with Sevika this time because she’s greedy — and fuck she’s never been so antsy to give head. She loves it and she loves getting it even more… at least she thought so. The aliens could come crashing down from the clouds and her first focus would still be getting you to soak her face. 

You’re fully undressed now, minus a sock that slipped off some fucking where but she doesn’t give a fuck. She’s so desperate to touch you again. It plagues her mind; stuffed with everything that she’s learned about you thus far. You sneeze before you orgasm for fucks sake that’s the cutest shit ever —

Can I?

She’s asking you and you’re whispering yes, please and fuck you moan so pretty when she first glides her tongue on you. Sevika allows her to ease you into the feeling, but she stays close enough to see every drop of slick that glides on Vi’s tongue. You’re so noisy and she loves that. All she can think about is how loud you’d be with your face in her pillow and your hands behind your back while she —

Vi! Violet! I’m cumming again! 

You’re a fucking dream. An insane fucking freaky ass dream. 

If anyone were to walk past your room right now, they’d be appalled at the ruckus that permeates through your space; sloppy sucking noises and encouraging praises and dehumanizing name calling that makes you grind your hips faster. You’re nearly riding her fucking face. 

Vi wishes she could see you in entirety; memorize every thrust and wriggle you give into her face, drowning her in your scent and juices and everything she could ever want in this moment. You’re exactly what she needed; a pliant distraction. You turn her mind off so easily. 

Sevika’s greedy and selfish as she raises one of your legs up with ease. You fall back onto the mattress with your back arched to the skies, a cracked wail squeezing from your lungs when another tongue smushes against your clit. Sevika sucks hard at your clit when Vi’s tongue swirls down to meet your entrance. The eager muscle wastes no time to shove inside and catch whatever bursts from you. 

She moves on autopilot; eases one finger past your pulsing heat and your legs start to shake. The digit curls deep inside, plunges into you with vigor and determination to get you there, hits a spot that almost lands her a kick in the back of her head, but she catches you; curls an arm around your thigh to keep you still. 

And the night — or afternoon or morning, none of you remember, continues like that until you’re drained completely dry and your body contracts from memory. 

Hours pass when Sevika and Vi finally start tonguing each other down for your viewing pleasure, and it starts all over again. 

—

r/AskReddit

u/artkiller       1s

2 butches are sleeping next to me rn… 

never let a hoe tell you to stop following your dreams. i’ve been following mine for almost 3 years and now they’re sleep next to me…. 

#HAPPYPRIDE

[archangeldyke-all]

giggling so bad imagining R shaving her bush and sevika being like oh my god do u hate me?!?! what did I do?!?! how can I make it up to u I'm sorry pleeeeeease never do this again we can talk it out next time please 😭😭

LMAOOO

men and minors dni

last month, your period crept up on you, and you woke up half convinced you'd been stabbed in your sleep.

you and sevika didn't even try to salvage the sheets, just throwing them in the trash before re-making the bed. your pajamas were ruined, and, grossest of all, your crotch was a sticky, bloody mess.

so, this month to avoid any more incidents, you've been sleeping on a towel in anticipation, wearing a pad to bed just in case, and... you've shaved.

you haven't shaved in years. you and sevika are both bush enjoyers, and neither of you have ever felt the need to take a razor to your pits or legs since you started dating. finding a razor to use is almost impossible, but you manage to find one buried in the far back of your bathroom closet.

you feel so... cold. and smooth. you're hyper-aware of the feeling of your underwear rubbing on your skin. it's strange. not unpleasant, but strange. with one last look down your pants at your hair-less pussy, you shrug and crawl into bed.

you think that's the end of it.

you go to sleep easily, waking up about an hour later when sevika crawls in bed behind you. she kisses you gently and you hum, wrapping your arms around her before you both fall asleep.

in the morning, though, you wake up to a horrified gasp.

"what!? what is it, is someone breaking in?" you ask, sitting up in bed and rubbing your eyes. as you pull your hands away, though, you don't find sevika sitting beside you where she should be. she's hovering on top of you on all fours, a horrified look on her face. "sevika, what?!" you ask, your heart pounding in your chest.

"you shaved?!" sevika cries. you blink, your mind still half asleep, before finally looking down at your crotch.

you burst into laughter as you do. sevika's pulled your pants down your thighs in your sleep, clearly trying to give you a nice wake up call, and she's just now seeing your bare cunt. "sevika, for fuck's sake, i thought something horrible happened!" you laugh.

"something horrible has happened! why the fuck did you shave!?" sevika asks, her eyes wide and heartbroken. "d-did i piss you off, or something? whatever it is, baby, i promise i'll make it up to yo--"

"sevika!" you cackle. sevika pouts as she looks up from your pussy to your face. "baby, i shaved because my period's on the way and i didn't wanna deal with the mess again."

sevika's looking at you like you've lost your mind. "wha-- fuck that!" she whines. you chuckle. "what the fuck am i supposed to do when i'm goin' down on you now? my nose is gonna get all cold, i won't have anything to run my fingers through..." sevika looks seriously upset. you giggle just a little at the absurdity of the situation, then reach up to cup her face.

"it'll grow back, baby." you promise. sevika frowns.

"but then you'll just shave it off again!"

"no, i won't babe." you say. "not if you feel this strongly about it. plus, it's a lotta work-- i was scared to death i was gonna cut one of my lips off or something."

sevika chuckles. "thank you." she sighs, kissing your lips. you grin.

"thank you. y'know, most people have to deal with the opposite-- their partners forcin' them to shave before any intimacy at all... i'm glad you prefer the option that requires the least amount of work possible for me."

sevika giggles and kisses you. "i am pretty amazing, aren't i?" she asks. you nod.

"the fuckin' best." you agree.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@sevikaspillowprincess @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@lavandasz @strawberrykidneystone @sevikasfan @fict1onallyobsessed

[harrysfolklore]

i’ve always loved the piastri sis lore because the sibling dynamic is so healthy but just to switch it up a little bit in the tiny verstappen!sis universe i can imagine her skipping out on the WDC celebrations with max and be with charles instead and max is a little mad at her at qatar until kelly knocks sense into him 🥰

verstappen!sister was one of the first f1 fics i ever posted 🥺🥺 its kinda heartwarming that you guys still remember it and want to read more about them! it was nice to take a dip into that little world agai, i hope you like this!

READ VERSTAPPEN!YN HERE

The neon lights of Las Vegas blurred through as you rushed through the paddock, your heart torn between two directions. Behind you, the thunderous celebration at Red Bull's garage continued – your brother Max had just sealed his fourth world championship. Any other day, you'd be right there, spraying champagne and screaming until your voice gave out.

But right now, all you could think about was Charles.

You found him in the Ferrari cooldown room, still in his race suit, head in his hands. He looked up when you entered, those green eyes stormy with frustration.

"Mon coeur," he whispered, and despite his evident pain, his lips curved into a small smile at the sight of you. "You're here."

You crossed the room quickly, wrapping your arms around him. He buried his face in your neck, breathing deeply. "Of course I'm here. Always."

"I had it," he mumbled against your skin. "I had the pace, the position... everything. Then they called me in at the worst possible moment—" His voice cracked slightly.

You ran your fingers through his hair soothingly. "I know, baby. I watched the whole thing."

Charles pulled back slightly, cupping your face with both hands. "You should be celebrating with Max, though. It's his championship. I don't want to take you away from that."

"You're not taking me anywhere," you said firmly, pressing your forehead to his. "I choose to be here."

He kissed you softly, gratefully. "Je t'aime. What did I do to deserve you?"

"Existed," you smiled against his lips. "Come on, let's get you out of here."

As you were leaving the cooldown room, hand in hand with Charles, you nearly collided with Max in the corridor. Your brother was still in his race suit, championship cap askew, smelling of champagne and victory.

"YN?" His voice was smaller than usual. "Where were you? Everyone was asking... we were all celebrating and you just disappeared."

Guilt twisted in your stomach. "Max, I'm so sorry, I—"

"She was with me," Charles said quietly, squeezing your hand.

Max's face fell slightly, though he tried to hide it. "Oh." He looked between you both, jaw working like he was trying to find the right words. "I thought... it's the championship, YN. Our fourth championship."

"I know," you said, stepping forward to hug him tightly. "And I'm so, so proud of you. You were incredible out there. But Charles needed me."

Max returned the hug, but you could feel the tension in his shoulders. When he pulled back, his expression was complicated – hurt mixed with resignation.

"Sure, whatever. Stay with your boyfriend." He shook his head, jaw clenched. "It's fine. Not like it's my fourth world championship or anything."

The sarcasm in his voice cut deep. Before you could respond, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving you and Charles standing in the corridor.

The next morning, you found Max in the hotel gym, pounding away at a treadmill despite probably being hungover from the celebrations. You knew your brother well enough to recognize when he was working out his frustrations physically.

"Max," you called out softly.

He didn't look at you, just kept running. "Shouldn't you be with Charles?"

"Can we talk? Please?"

He jabbed at the treadmill controls, slowing to a stop. When he finally turned to face you, his expression was guarded. "About what? About how you ditched your own brother's championship celebration to comfort your boyfriend? Because he finished P4?" He grabbed his towel, wiping his face roughly. "Real nice, sister."

"That's not fair and you know it."

"Kelly already gave me the whole speech last night, you know," he said, "Something about 'understanding love' and 'being supportive' and how she'd do the same for me."

"And?"

"And I told her she's supposed to be on my side," he said, but there was less heat in his voice than before. "She just laughed at me."

You sat down on a nearby bench, and after a moment, he joined you. "I'm still mad," he admitted. "And it's still weird as hell that my sister is dating Charles bloody Leclerc of all people."

"Could be worse," you tried. "Could've been Lewis."

"Don't even joke about that," he groaned, but you caught the tiny smile he tried to hide. His face turned serious again. "Kelly made some good points though. About how she'd choose to be with me if I was struggling after a race, even if it meant missing something important. Still doesn't mean I like it."

"I really am sorry about disappearing like that."

"I wanted my sister there," Max's voice cracked slightly. "You've been there for every important moment in my career. Every single one. Until yesterday. It's like ever since you started dating him, I'm losing my little sister bit by bit."

"You're not losing me, Max. You're my brother, nothing will ever change that. But Charles...I love him."

Max was quiet for a long moment. "You really love him that much? It's that serious?"

"Yeah," you whispered. "It is."

He sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. "I still don't like it. And I'm still mad about yesterday." He paused, then added grudgingly, "But I guess I need to get used to sharing you. Just... don't disappear on me like that again, okay? I had to listen to Helmut asking if you were sick or something. Do you know how awkward it was explaining that my sister was too busy consoling a Ferrari driver to celebrate with us?"

"Did you actually tell him that?"

"No, I told him you had a headache. You're welcome, by the way." He paused. "But seriously, YN. I get that you love him or whatever—" he made a face at the words, "—but you're still my sister."

"And you're still my annoying big brother," you leaned against his shoulder. "So... fourth championship, huh? Getting a bit boring now, isn't it?"

"Never," he grinned, then added more seriously, "Would've been better with you there though."

"I'll make it up to you. Plus, there's still family dinner tonight."

"Yeah, about that..." Max's expression turned mischievous. "I might have told Mom to make that really spicy Indonesian dish Charles couldn't handle last time."

"Max!"

"What? If he's going to be family, he needs to build up his tolerance," he said innocently. "Besides, it's payback for making me miss my sister at my championship celebration."

"You're impossible."

"Yeah, but I'm a four-time world champion impossible brother," he smirked, pulling you into a headlock like when you were kids. "And don't you forget it."

[luveline]

𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 | 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

six | chapter list

Finding out you’re a princess isn’t half as intimidating as suddenly acquiring a full-time bodyguard. Especially when that bodyguard is disarmingly handsome, charming, and can’t seem to stop flirting with you. 

bodyguard!james, fem!reader, implied chubby!reader, shy!reader, princess diaries au, all characters in their 20s or older, star-crossed lovers/ forbidden romance, slowburn, background wolfstar

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

“Why aren’t you hitting me?” James asks. 

The safety mat under your feet does little to assuage your fears. James Potter is perhaps the last person on earth you’d expect to hurt you, and yet you can’t shake the image of him deflecting your punch and sending you reeling. 

With his lovely curls slicked away from his face, his nice mouth, the curve of it where he’s smiling encouragingly, you don’t really want to hit him. 

“I can’t,” you say. 

“Yes, you can. One day you might have to, and I need to know you can do it without breaking your own hand.” The no nonsense tone he’d tended to sport when you first met barely three weeks ago is seemingly gone, replaced by a friendly, almost cavalier tone. Like this is fun. “It won’t hurt you much, I swear. And you should get your revenge. I hit you pretty hard.” 

“You didn’t hit me,” you say. “The door did.” 

“It was my fault.” He smiles, readjusting his stance with feet planted firmly against the mat. 

“James…” 

“Just hit me,” he says. 

You tense your fist around your thumb and hit him square in the chest. It’s not a punch by any means, a weak landing of your knuckles that doesn’t move him. Still, you’re surprised with yourself, checking his face for a sign that you’d done any damage. 

“There are so many people who’d love to punch me,” he laughs, nodding to your hand, “you can do better than that, if only to do what they couldn’t.” 

“I don’t want to hit you, James.” 

“I know, you have to. Come on, it’s easier than you think. You bring your first back to your shoulder and you move into it, okay? Use your weight to do the work. You’ll never hurt anyone if you don’t.” 

“I’d rather not, though.” 

“I know that, too, but you might need to. God forbid you be in a situation where I’m not there to protect you,” —here he does something strange with his eyebrows you’ve yet to encounter, sending a straight shot of butterflies through you, their wings fluttering in the soft part of your throat— “but you don’t have to be defenceless if I’m not. Give me a good swing and I’ll make sure Marlene has that pear ice cream at dinner tonight.” 

“Marlene would make it if I asked,” you say unsurely.

“But if you hit me, I’ll ask for you.” 

“You can be very manipulative.”

“Sometimes. Alright, hit me. Or I’ll tackle you again. You didn’t like that last time.” 

Obviously you hadn’t enjoyed being tackled, because James hadn’t hurt you, he’d simply overpowered you. In one sense, it had been panicky to realise you were at someone’s mercy. James had grabbed you simply behind the back with your chests pressed together and hooked his calf behind your legs, taking them from under you, and following you to the ground. You didn’t like it because he didn’t hurt you, he’d pressed his weight into yours with an arm tight across your chest, just under your throat, and you could smell his hair. Smell almond or jojoba or– or something warm. 

It isn’t that you have feelings for James. You don’t know him well enough. But having someone like James pressing down on you was impossible to ignore, consciously and subliminally.

You really don’t want to do this, drawing your arm back, tightening your first two fingers. James’ eyes widen, his lips falling open as you hit him hard enough to bruise a half inch from his heart. He stumbles and you follow, before flinching back hard, tucking shameful arms to your chest. 

“Sorry!” you burst. “Fuck, sorry! I thought you were ready!” 

“I was ready.” James grins widely. “Awesome. Do that again, yeah? Let’s have one on the cheek this time.” 

“I am not punching you in the face.” 

“You could always aim somewhere softer. The point is to incapacitate me. Hitting me in the chest won’t do that.” He rubs a hand into his shirt, the dark compression material barely moving. “You might have bruised me, though. I’m a good teacher.” 

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” you say. 

James deliberates. He tips his head back, showing you the rather nice point of his chin and his neck. A beauty mark sits nestled atop his Adam's apple. 

“Alright. Sorry. No more hitting. Maybe we’ll give the offensive a break for a while and go back to defence again in a few days?” he suggests. 

You relax. 

You’re wearing clothes you’re not used to, a compression shirt like James’, a pair of dark trousers of a similar material with loose ends. Sirius had done some online shopping with you, not worrying as your elbows brushed. He pointed at things and you’d given weak yesses or resolute nos. The total had climbed and climbed, and Sirius had taken your choking for self-preservation. “Not to worry,” he’d said, grinning, “the royal coffers will pay for this lot.” 

It doesn’t feel real. Endless money with no limit nor reason. He’d opened Curry’s swiftly after and asked you what laptop you wanted for uni. He’d attempted to goad you into two. 

It’s alien. All of it, even James across from you where he’s sitting now to put his trainers back on. He doesn’t feel anymore real than the day you met, this handsome, tall boy tasked with keeping you safe. You’ve never been someone’s number one priority. 

“Come and put your shoes on, lovely.” 

You’re not sure how to cope with that, either. He and Sirius both seem quick to coddle when you’re distracted, and you’re distracted often. You shrug away your thoughts, relaxing your tight shoulders as you cross the empty gym to sit next to him. Your trainers are new, too, a sporty pair that cost more money than your last three pairs combined. 

“It’s nice to have new things,” you confess, “but odd.” 

“Yeah?” 

“I… I’ve been wearing the same pair of converse for two years. I had one pair of proper shoes, and one bag. One purse. And I didn’t mind it, just… just, it makes you feel sick sometimes when you want stuff. It’s embarrassing.”

If James is surprised at your sudden admission, he doesn’t show it. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of in wanting things,” he says, hands braced on his knees, “but I can guess why you might’ve felt like that. We try not to think about the things we want because that can make not having it worse.” 

What couldn’t you have? you think, searching his expression for a hint. 

“I’m glad it’s nice,” he furthers, tapping his heel against yours. “They look good. Are they comfortable?” 

“They feel like I’m wearing socks half the time.” 

James nods appreciatively. “Well, get them on. We’ll nip into the pharmacist before we go home, do you have your sunglasses?” 

“It’s too grey outside for sunglasses, we look ridiculous.” 

“You look like the front page of every newspaper. Ever. In the entire western world. Here, put your hoodie on.” 

You and James leave the gym with a wave to the women at the front desk and begin down the street. James hates the city obviously, wrinkling his nose at the grey cobbled streets and all of its sooty puddles. He walks from place to place rigid as a tentpole, swerving in front of you the second that someone looks at you too long. You wonder if this is what having a boyfriend is like. James is constantly making sure you’re safe, that you’re on the right side of the pavement, that you’re warm and fed and smiling. But you don’t suppose a boyfriend gets paid to spend time with you, nor do they spend nights on the lumpy sofa in the living room when they’re too tired to drive home at the end of a long shift. 

You think without wanting to of James climbing into bed with you, a split second of his warm arm over your back, and shake it away as he pulls you into the pharmacy. 

“Can you look at something else?” you ask, turning to him as you pull off your silly sunglasses. 

James raises his eyebrows. “Whatever for?” 

“I need stuff.” 

“I know you need stuff. You asked me if we could come here. Which, by the way, you don’t need to do. You’re supposed to boss me around.” 

You look over a shelf of shampoos and deodorants and begin reading their labels. James took you shopping the day after you got back, but you’d been stuck in your old ways and what you didn’t skimp on, you forgot. You eye a large bottle of shampoo that brags deep moisture for your hair type and take it from the shelf, then the matching conditioner, and then its hair mask. Your shoulders curl forward, worried James will think you greedy or sad or something in between, but he just says, “Pass them here, Princess.” 

“It’s fine, I can–”

“I’ll have them. I’ll go get a basket.”

He scoops everything into big hands and walks back to the pharmacy’s entrance. 

It’s a big pharmacy, modern, with white walls and bright fluorescent lights behind shelves. You catch yourself in a mirror next to a stand of cosmetics and wince. You look odd in these sporty clothes. Your nose is shiny. 

You wipe your face with your sleeve and stare at the cosmetics with no clue what to get. Should’ve asked Sirius to come. Or better yet, someone who regularly wears makeup. Only thing is, you don’t really know anybody who does. 

“You don’t have to rush,” James says, joining you at the makeup section, such a long walk from the shampoos. “Did you sprint down here?” 

You’d speed-walked past the sexual health aisle actually, but James doesn’t need to be privy to that information. “You don’t want to be here all day.” 

“I want to be exactly where you are. If that’s looking at lip gloss, then so be it.” 

You smile, a little shy, a little rueful, and turn your attention back to the lip glosses in question. There’s browns and pinks, blush-rose red and moodier cherries. “I don’t…” 

“That one,” James says, poking a barrel with confidence, “would suit you. And this one, too. You’ll look lovely.”

You don’t know what to say. The colours he’s chosen get added to your basket without comment, after you’ve wrestled it out of his unwilling hands. You spend a few minutes spready tester shades of concealer against the back of your hand, where James again recommends the one that matches your skin tone best. He leans behind you, and he does his job, sweeping the aisles and giving the shop a long up and down every once in a while, but for the most part he acts like he’s there to be there. 

You get to the bit of the pharmacy you’d come for initially, the shorter but well-stocked supplement and vitamin aisle. Realistically, you aren’t going to take ten different vitamins a day, and with Marlene’s cooking it isn’t as though you need them, but there are things you’ve always craved. Biotin and collagen, for healthier hair and nails. Multi-nutrient sachets for every day, the good stuff, and so expensive your eyes initially skip over them. 

Your hand hesitates in front of a box and James makes a warm humming noise. 

“They look promising.”

“I’ve never had them before.”

“I have a killer magnesium deficiency,” James says. “I usually take the magnesium and zinc, but that throws my copper out of whack.” 

You can’t tell if he’s messing with you. You smile at him, not quite stickily but getting there, your cheeks appled with it. “Not your copper.” 

“It’s not funny, Princess. It makes me want to sleep all day.” 

“Not funny,” you agree, grabbing the box of sachets and placing them atop the new electric toothbrush you’d fancied. You feel gluttonous and weird with it, because you don’t suppose you really need one, but James had only said That’s a nice colour. 

“James,” you say, meandering with him toward the tills, “you didn’t need anything, did you?” 

He grins at you like you’ve said something different. “I have everything I need, don’t worry.” 

“You sure?” 

His eyes seem lighter, then. Amber flecks in the browned honey of his irises. “Promise.” 

He tries to get you to visit the perfume counter, but the basket is getting heavy and you’ve spent enough as it is. Not even a tenth, a hundredth, a thousandth of what you have now at your disposal, but so much more than you ever would’ve before. 

The lady at the till eyes James behind you. She beams when James opens his wallet and passes you the card you were given by Sirius for expenses, and laughs when you refuse to take it. “I have mine,” you say, “this is all for me, I can pay.” 

“Technically it’s your upkeep,” James argues. 

“James.” You pass the cashier your card as James frowns. 

“I wish my boyfriend offered so quickly,” the cashier says. 

You go hot all over, but before you can tell her James isn’t your boyfriend, he’s laughing and taking the handles of your heavy pink carrier, pulling it toward him as the cashier sorts your receipt. “I shouldn’t have tried, really.” 

“It’s the thought that counts.” She hands you your receipt. “You should to let him pay, chick, especially if he’s offering.” 

“Maybe next time,” you appease. 

You’re still flushed when you and James break outside again, the cold a blessed relief. James lets your pink bag rest in the crook of his arm, while the other hovers behind you, looking around the street unhurried. “Anywhere else you want to go, chick?” he asks. 

You laugh. “She was nice.” 

“Very motherly.” 

“I want to go home, I think. Did you need anything else?” 

“I do all my shopping when I’m not working.” 

“When aren’t you working?” you ask genuinely. “You spend more than half the day at my flat, and when you leave– if you leave, it’s night time.” You give him a sideways glance. “I have nothing else to do today.” 

James contemplates this. “I– I’ve been meaning to get Sirius a gift. It’s his birthday next week, did you know?” 

“No! When?” 

“The third.” 

“What does he like?” 

James beckons toward a neon signed music shop. “He loves music. Music and the macabre, you know, like, horror movies. And he reads, despite what he might have you believe.” 

You fall into step. “Alright. You’ll have to tell me what to buy.” 

Again, he gives you a look like you’ve said something different, like you’ve said something lovely. 

“I can do that,” James says. “I won’t steer you wrong.”

—

Later that evening, after another tentative hour in the car with James’ patient coaching, you return home to shower. It’s luxurious and strenuous simultaneously. The new hair mask is fragrant and silky between your fingers, leaving the bathroom thick with its smell, the warm air clouding the windows. You hurry between the bathroom and your bedroom in a bath sheet and pretend you don’t notice James’ head tipping in your direction. 

“Everything alright?” he calls to your bedroom door. 

You spy on him through the gap. “I’m fine. Sorry I took so long.” 

“Remus has asked if he can come early and have dinner with us.” 

“He doesn’t need to ask!” you call, closing the door soundly. 

It will be nice to have Remus for dinner. He doesn’t have to tell you what fork to use here, you only have one kind, but he explains the heritage or main flavours of each dish and doesn’t make you feel embarrassed when you don’t know the Genovian Marlene uses. Honestly, you hadn’t even realised Genovia had a language, a hodge podge, Remus says, of Italian and French. And Remus has a steady voice that feels evidence of his more humble background —he’s like you, you’ve found out, working class and humbly brought up. He attended their boarding school on a scholarship of academic prowess, and served as a prefect for all seven years. 

“How exhausting,” you’d said. 

“With those two? You wouldn’t believe it.” 

His disdain was feigned, mostly. It’s why you’re excited to have him for dinner. When the boys are together, they end up telling you stories about their hijinks at school, and you get to peek into the window of their lives, see their fondness for one another in praises and shoulder squeezes and their ridiculous nicknames. 

You haven’t managed to ask about them yet. They slip out every once in a while, and in multiple variations. Moony, Moons, Moon and Pads, Pad, Padfoot. Remus’ you’ve deduced from a story they told, how Remus could be oh so moody when he wasn’t very well, like a wolf, a werewolf. Isn’t that clever for a gang of twelve year olds? Lupin, the wolf boy. You have a feeling it didn’t start out as a particularly kind nickname, but it morphed into a loving moniker later on. Sirius’ nickname, however, you’ve no chance at working out. Padfoot? 

And Prongs? You assume James had a nasty run in with a fork. 

You dress in soft, new clothes. Prongs, you think, doesn’t suit him at all. The James you know is only ever prickly when you’re at risk. He doesn’t flinch when you panic, never hardens. He has a soft hand for your back whenever you need a pat. 

Your socks slide on the living room tiles as you make your way in. James is clicking away on his phone, a dark business phone with many, many buttons. It’s dwarfed by his hand. He swears under his breath. 

“Everything okay?” you ask softly. 

James looks up and his gaze snags on you, his head tilted to his phone and his eyes steadfast where they look you over. “Fine. Nice shower?” 

You’re rich now. Every shower is nice, the boiler turned to a high six, hot water neverending. 

“It was good. Where’s Sirius?” 

“I’m actually not sure.” 

“Isn’t that your job?” 

“No. And if it were I wouldn’t know anyways.” He turns back to his phone. “He’s a slippery one, Pads,” he murmurs, “I couldn’t really keep track of him if I tried.” 

You feel as though you’ve caught him at a bad time. Restless, you turn away from him and head for your small kitchen, unsurprised to find Marlene still cooking and the continued remodelling of your kitchen. Old countertops find themselves housing new oiled cutting boards. Your grody cooker seems small beneath a HexClad Dutch oven, where oil bubbles and spits lightly, dough cuts set on a baking sheet beside it. 

“Hi, Marlene. What are you making?” you ask curiously. 

She grins at you from over her shoulder. “Apple cider doughnuts. I’ve made cinnamon sugar, do you mind it?” 

“What’s the thermometer?” you ask. 

She laughs at you lightly. She’s used to you dodging questions. “Just making sure I don’t set your house alight. At home I can do this by eye, but it’s finicky with your oven. She’s temperamental.” 

“Sorry.” 

Marlene waves a hand. “You want to try?” 

“I’ll just be in your way.” 

“No, you won’t. Frying doughnuts is fun, here. I’ve put each of them on a bit of greaseproof paper. They slide right off.” 

Marlene doesn’t usually take no for an answer. She’s not bossy, but decisive. You’re hesitant at first of the boiling oil and the greaseproof paper doesn’t cooperate when you try it, but eventually you’ve freed a crispy bit of paper from the dough, watching patiently as Marlene turns the doughnuts. She tells you about the dark colour you’re searching for, “I’ve put apples in the dough, see, so they’ll come to a brilliant dark colour without burning. We’ll have them with ice cream or whatever you like.” 

”James told you I wanted it?” you ask shyly. 

“James didn’t mention you at all, he just begged a bit for it. He can be quite pathetic when he needs to be.”  

“I resent that!” James calls. 

Sirius and Remus arrive in their usual pair, Remus tall and light to Sirius’ tighter darkness. Remus wears glasses today, black thin frames perched atop a scar on his nose. Sirius is being himself, poking at them and reminding Remus that just because he is an insufferable swat doesn’t mean he has to look like one. 

“You’re worse than insufferable,” Remus says. When he sees you, he brightens. “Ah, Princess. James hasn’t injured you, that’s brilliant.” 

“And you clearly haven’t killed him in a motor vehicular disaster,” Sirius says cheerfully. “Praise be.” 

“We’re both fine,” you say. 

“Were you worried about us?” James asks. 

“I wasn’t worried about you, James,” Remus says with a smirk. 

You eat as you have every day for the week since you’ve been home: around the coffee table, five plates and drinks rearing to get knocked over and ruin it all. Your knees press into Remus’ on the left and Marlene’s on the right. James sits across from you now that Frank’s shown up for his night shift, digging in with vigour, beaming around his fork as Sirius gives him a good nudge. So many people in your crammed flat. It doesn’t seem real. Half the time, they’re just here to keep you company. 

Paid to keep me company, you think, biting your tongue as you do. This isn’t… real. 

Something taps you under the table. James’ hand, you find, long fingers pressing soft into your kneecap. You quickly lift your head again to find him frowning at you mildly. Okay? he mouths. 

“Bit my tongue,” you say. 

“Ouch,” Remus says. 

James pokes his lip with his tongue. “Be careful,” he says eventually. 

You ignore whatever it is he’s not saying and pick at your food instead. For dinner, Marlene has made a traditional Genovian pasta dish heavy with red pesto and steak. It isn’t what you’re expecting, used to the paler whites and greens of the last week's worth of dinner. James couldn’t be enjoying it more, and Sirius has pledged his undying love to Marlene three or four times since you sat down. 

“Jesus, I barely miss Genovia when you cook like this,” he says. “I will happily serve my country.” 

“Unlike before, when you were here unhappily,” Remus teased. 

Sirius looks you dead in the eye. “Princess, I would follow you anywhere. Marlene is an added bonus.” 

“I– I really wish you guys wouldn’t call me that.” 

Sirius looks gently chastened. “Sorry, sorry. It’s muscle memory at this point. If I called Princess Julianna by anything but her title, she would’ve had me drawn and quartered in the royal courtyards, is all.” 

“And the rest,” James snorts. 

“I try not to address her at all,” Remus says to himself. 

Everyone laughs. You join in a second later, wondering about your unknown cousin. “She was rather spoiled, wasn’t she?” you ask. 

“You’d think she’d tone it down some. Her royal status is rather tenuous, you know.” 

James gives Sirius a look. Careful, it says. 

“What do you mean?” you ask. 

“Well, she’s a royal by marriage, not blood. We explained that, didn’t we?” 

James had said it was complicated. You’d been too startled about your own royal status to inspect it any further. “She’s not a Renaldi?” you ask. 

As it’s explained, your uncle (uncle! who is indeed royal by blood, and the eldest son) forwent the throne when it became clear he wouldn’t be allowed to marry a divorced lover otherwise (reminiscent of certain British scandals). Said divorced lover already had a daughter, a young Julianna. And so your uncle remained a prince but not a king, and Julianna became a princess, to the ire of half the country. 

Traditions have changed in time, but Julianna still lacks Renaldi blood. 

“It drives her mad,” James says. He’s leaning back against the armchair now, dinner finished, a big glass of apple cider in his hands. 

“That doesn’t surprise me,” you say. “Sorry, I sound horrible, just. She wasn’t super friendly.” 

“It would’ve been better for everyone if she was,” Sirius says. 

You wait for him to continue. Marlene prompts him, “You think so?” 

“Well, yes, I suppose. Anything is better than a country ruled by Baron Riddle. Evil, loathsome man. He thinks that nobody knows he’s had a nose job, you know.” 

“Who’s Baron Riddle?” you ask. 

A hush falls around the table. You look down at your plate, eyes on the red shine of pesto and olive oil where it’s grown cold on your plate. A hunk of soft bread is discarded beside it. You poke at it with your nail until crumbs flake away, lips parted, not sure what to say. “Is he–?”

“He’s a bad man, Y/N,” Sirius says. His voice has turned soft but not thin. “He’s prejudiced and cruel. If nobody of Renaldi blood takes the throne when your grandmother steps down, he’ll rule Genovia. And he’ll run it into the ground.” 

James isn’t looking at you when you drag your head up. He downs the last of his cider and stands up, murmuring about clearing the table as he carries his and Sirius’ plate to the kitchen. 

“I didn’t know,” you say. Well, you’d known someone would ascend to the throne if you didn’t. But you didn’t know about Riddle. A guilty heat builds in your throat. “I had no idea.” 

“James asked us not to tell you,” Remus says pointedly. 

“She has a right to know,” Sirius says. They glare at each other, but the heat in Sirius’ voice doesn’t rescind. “What? She does. She’s a grown up.” 

You shake your head. “Thank you, um, for telling me. I’ll just take these out, should I?” You gesture to the plates and stand up quickly. You can’t escape the feeling that Sirius is very angry with you, and you don’t want to face it, so you escape the room instead. 

James’ shoulders are tense in the kitchen. He scrapes his plate clean into the food recycling bin, offering his hand without looking for your own. 

“Thank you,” you say quietly. 

“Of course.” 

Silence blossoms like an achy bruise. 

“James–”

“Thank you for having me for dinner, but I really should be going now. I promised my mum an overdue call.” 

He’s angry. 

You cringe away from him. “Okay. Yeah, no problem.” 

“Okay. Stay safe while I’m gone, yes? Remember your panic button.” 

Your hand inches up to the opposite wrist, where your tennis bracelet of sapphires sits tightly. You’d forgotten all about the panic button embedded in disguise under one of the gemstones. 

He smiles at you briefly, and in a minute or two he’s gone. Sirius goes out after him, leaving you and Remus and Marlene to the heap of dishes, a bad taste lingering on your tongue that has nothing to do with dinner. 

[biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer]

Idk if ur requests are open but here's mine. I really need Sol, Geo, Hyugo and Crowe (seperated) with a bubbly and slightly chaotic, troublemaking s/o! I know it's probably in contrast to the mc/us in the game, but it's just a thought I really like to think abt! <33

Love ur work btw, no need to take my request lolll

𝓜𝔂 𝓛𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓲𝓼 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓢𝓾𝓷, 𝓪𝓼 𝓑𝓻𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓡𝓪𝓭𝓲𝓪𝓷𝓽 𝓪𝓼 𝓨𝓸𝓾

I am aware this is shorter, but I hope you like this Anon! <3 (also not me showing blatant favortism for Geo like naur I'd never)

-- Signed solemnly by @biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer AKA Sky Fort(resse)s and Burning Citadels <3

Sol always found you cute, your aura was one of…peace. Which was ironic considering you’re the last thing most people think of in terms of peace.

You’re a menace to society, an adorable one sure, but a menace nonetheless.

You’re often seen (totally not by Sol, no he’d never-) squawking at birds and doing a little dance in hopes they mimic you. Many pray that will never happen again. The first and only time such an event occurred, you skipped three classes just to teach it the Macarena.

“It was so fucking worth it though, like did you see it? I’m asking you Bethany DID YOU SEE IT!!!!” (Bethany is scarred to this day).

Sol finds you so beautiful, you might act zesty and a bit out of pocket, but to him you’re perfect. You’re not embarrassed about being yourself and you’re just unashamedly you. What more is there to love, apart from literally everything about you?

He’ll miss class just to spy- sorry- observe you interacting with things, pet rocks, frogs, birds, a tarantula, your eyes sparkle with that love for the world that he can’t get enough of.

When you partnered up with him for the art projects, Sol was (s)creaming inside, you immediately lit up his mood and you had such a boisterousness in you. Usually he hates such vivid personalities, but yours wasn’t intended to be fake or attention-seeking, it was just you. And he loves you.

You’re like the ball of sunshine x menacing storm cloud ship. 

He’ll often fight the urge to smile, not just from seeing you but how happy you look when you see your friends, and especially him. He wants nothing more than to look into your eyes each morn, eve and night and see that beautiful sparkle and light inside them.

Gets carnal urges to rail you every damn time you express glee at something, or just grin at him. He’s so down bad you just smiling is more than enough to make him bust a couple times.

When you’re together, he finds things to make you as happy as possible, does little things that he knows you’ll appreciate, etc. Mans wants only the best for his partner.

Considering how he's already committed heinous crimes (for you, allegedly, but you don't know this), he'll give you crucial advice on how to avoid getting caught doing dodgy shit. Like. Hiding a body. Mayhaps. Not that he'd ever do that nooooo he'd neeeveeeerrrrrr.

Geo finds you immeasurably irritating.

He can’t stand you, he doesn’t know why you exist. It makes him very sad inside. He often wishes you would get magically gagged so he’d never have to hear your voice again.

It’s not that he hates you, you just bother him. You’re stupidly nice, stupidly bubbly, stupidly energetic, stupidly existent, stupidly silly, stupidly everything.

In fact you’re so stupid he questions how you’re alive, along with why you take up so much space in his head.

When you’re in the group, he winces internally because you’re so loud and it’s so annoying and stupid and dumb.

Unfortunately you decide you like him, so you try to befriend him. And you turn into a literal barnacle. You’re not clingy, no, but you’re definitely pleased when you see him, much to his dismay.

You’re often very cheery, and weirdly enough it’s authentic. You’re authentic in this odd boisterousness of yours, and he doesn’t know how to feel. So he gaslights himself into finding you bothersome.

Deryl often laughs at him about it, he finds Geo’s distaste comedic.

Anyway Geo side-eyes you consistently, you pay him no mind however, you’ve been told he’s like a cat. And a cat poses no threat. Unless it has rabies. Can cats have rabies…?

Anyway, the both of you are toying with each other, well, you with Geo. And to be fair, the fact that he’s a delinquent as well makes you more inclined to befriend him.

He only gains respect for you when you start pulling shitshows on people who bullied others, especially if it’s the girls who screw with Brittney and Deryl. He begins to feel more intuitively safe around you after that. Although he doesn’t like your unpredictability. It reminds him of Hyugo.

Blatantly will never admit to having feelings for you. Denial is a river in Egypt and he can’t swim. (I hc that now.)

Although if somehow one of the others hints to you that he does (nobody ever reveals who, to his ire), you take a chance with him.

He’ll probably accept after 7 months and 3 days of avoiding the topic, but he does feel a slight warmth when you’re nearby.

If you give him a pet rock with a smiley face he’ll have no clue what to do with it, but he keeps it safely hidden on his windowsill in his bedroom, smiling at it in secret.

110% a nasty blusher, his face goes so red, so if he looks straight up into the sun, he’s def hiding smth. If you’re short, start growing. Take Viagra but for height instead of dick.

Anyway if you two date he’s silently death-staring people who insult or threaten (or God forbid, harm) you. Thunder and lightning shipcore.

He’ll never be open about his feelings, but you just make him look up at something via distraction and smuggle something out of nowhere to give to him.

Decides after a bit your bubbly personality isn’t that stupid after all. <3

Hyugo immediately takes a pretty potent liking to you, although with a hint of caution. He’s energised by your energetic nature, by your boisterousness and sheer optimism.

He sees you as a kindred spirit, you’re both more on the popular side of things (him for his reputation, you for your very well-known…’presence’), yet despite such clear similarities between the two of you…he sees you as a threat.

It’s always the sweetest exteriors that hide layers of hard, serrated bitterness far beneath; after all. He’d know.

But Hyugo learned to be more in-tuned with his intuition, to trust his gut overtime, and said gut doesn’t feel alarmed when near you. If anything it feels safe, warm, content.

So he begins to feel a bit disarmed, he even allows it, to a very minor extent. He eventually begins to befriend you (or at least he tells himself that), and soon enough you’re both dragging each other (and Sol) places.

He develops feelings very slowly, very gently. Like a Jenga tower, it stacks higher and higher, but always prepared for the sudden drop that’ll lead to him reverting back to his regular self. One he hides from the world.

But it doesn’t fall. If anything, it’s soaring, he’s soaring.

And one day he realises he loves you.

It takes him a long set of months to gather up any bravery to confess; which annoys him. He’s murdered people, been on the verge of death more times than fingers on his hands, yet he’s scared. Of this. Of how vulnerable he truly is in this situation. 

Some part yearns for it. So he confesses. And you accept.

He’s blushing profusely (he and Geo 110% are heavy blushers don’t you dare fight me on this), and even more so when you lot first kiss (we’re not even gonna get into what happens when you inevitably have very carnal very kinky very loving se-).

Anyway, in terms of your chaoticness, you serve as self regenerating chaos bombs. You constantly are lighting each others’ fuses and doing all sorts of wacky shit together. He shows you all the hidden places he knows and you show him how to commit minor offences without getting caught (he didn’t have the heart to tell you he already knew that but shh).

Yáll are gremlins. The masses fear what you’re both capable of.

Crowe knew from when he first met you that you had interesting ways of entertaining yourself.

Especially when you committed acts of vandalism against your alleged nemeses. Considering how you come off more calm and composed as a first impression he was definitely shocked when you pulled little-shit-esqe moves against people who annoyed you. Little graffiti drawings in their victims’ lockers, conveniently placed stones and bricks, etc. You were vengeful, but also…cute. You had a kindness to you. One that threw many people off, considering how see-saw your personality and behaviour was.

He often uses his reputation to try and get you out of trouble or telling you why you should stop being such a silly goober. But do you listen? No!

You’re still a bubbly person, and despite your...methods…you’re liked. You’re authentic in your own way, and Crowe can respect that in a world filled with lies upon fraudulent lies.

He developed feelings for you since the day you met, but they amplified when he sees you defending people, openly showing your care for others, because despite your allegedly ditzy aura, you’re a very smart and capable person. He sees a lot in you, and you make him feel alive.

You’re impulsive, spontaneous and he loves that. He’s used to rigidity, to caring about his reputation, but you don’t. It’s refreshing, it’s soothing, it’s a balm to the soul. 

You’re both often complimenting each other (not just verbally lol), one’s more calm and composed while the other is having an aneurysm because of some wacky thing they saw. It’s amusing.

Anyway Crowe wouldn’t confess his feelings, because he can’t tell whether your hints are serious or not, but if he feels like he can’t take it anymore, he definitely will say it and plan to make it a joke. You both use this back and forward method until you snap and yell it at him. Then you have se- sorry coughs- a moment of shared reconciliation and bonding time. 

You’re both very happy together, you’ve already been friends for a long time, so dating isn’t all too different, you can just be a bit more open about your feelings and…desires. ;)

Deryl absolutely appreciates you; to him you’re like a twin flame.

You’re both having an absolute blast together, even before you were friends. 

Mans is actually tweaking that you’re the way you are. You’re both supplying candy to one another and getting on massive sugar rushes. 

If you’ve found something cool, you’re showing it to him, same with him to you.

You’re both going batshit insane over small wacky things, whether it be food sales, candy stores having new things (much to Geo and Brittney’s dismays) or deciding to do a new sport together for funsies. Or even stalking Geo and Hyugo’s archery tournaments. Geo often gets pissy if he notices you two waving at him.

You’re typically the quiet one when alone (not without some rebelliousness or mischief though!), but around Deryl you’re both bringing each other up and essentially formulating plans to shit around as much as possible.

He doesn’t notice his feelings until when Brittney starts poking fun at you both.

You both don’t care though, you’re just chilling and causing shit to go down, whether it be dissing other sport teams, crafting goofy ass insults or just piggybacking on each other (well, mostly you on Deryl, you tried to lift him once and uh…yeah, not repeating that).

He loves your bubbly energy, especially if you like studying too. It makes him more motivated to actually do something, considering how he hates it.

You both see the other as a twin flame, a once-in-a-lifetime connection that you both can’t explain. It’s just…there.

Anway in terms of dating you’re both actually conked up on something 24/7. Mostly sugar, you smuggle it in for each other, you eat it when observing something entertaining, you even share gossip and people-watch. It’s magnificent. And it’s peaceful, in its own way.

Also you guys share food. Food is everywhere. It is being produced out of thin air. 

Banger relationship, banger vibes. <3

[bloodibambiidoll]

What if someone who had a massive crush on rafe started dressing and acting like weird girl reader in an attempt to get his attention

I think she wouldn’t live to see another day !! Just kidding… but it wouldn’t be good for her… Possessiveness, talks of weird!girl getting bullied in the past, use of a butterfly knife (no breaking skin), Barry banter, weird!girl gets just a lil crazy here, she’s at her limit what can I say !! 18+MNDI!!

You don’t who the fuck this bitch thinks she is, who she thinks you are but she is about to get a reality check real quick. You’ve been watching it slowly progress. First you saw her at one of Topper’s parties wearing fuzzy demonias and a frilly mini dress and it just got worse from there. This girl whose name you haven’t thought of in years, Brittany. She treated you like shit all through school and she spent that same amount of time begging for Rafe’s attention. Which he never gave to her. And now? She’s dressing like you and posting pictures on her Instagram story of her in the middle of the woods. You even saw she had a sonny angel on the back of her phone in one of her selfies. Just like you. She’s been showing up at parties more and she’s somehow always at the country club when you and Rafe are. She’s never caught him alone though. Not until now.

You decided to stay home tonight, Rafe was going to a party with Barry and a few of their other dealer friends and you were tired. But when you got a text from Barry that you needed to come rescue your man because some girl wouldn’t leave him alone no matter how many times he turned her down? You knew who he meant and you were out of bed putting on a quick beat and a cute little outfit immediately. You called an uber and were there in less than an hour.

When you rolled up there was music blaring and lights flashing from inside so you pushed your way through the sweaty, weed and beer smelling living room while scanning for your man in every corner. It didn’t take you long to find him. He’s sitting out on the back porch on a bench, counting money on the small table in front of him, surrounded by his guys, and fucking Brittney. Barry is in between her and Rafe but she might as well be in his fucking lap from the way she’s leaning over him to fawn over your fiancé. She’s wearing a little lace corset top and a black mini skirt which wouldn’t be that abnormal for a basic kook bitch like her but she’s wearing the same platform boots you had on last week, a studded choker, and a chunky belt to match. It makes you see red immediately.

You stomp out the back door and across the patio with tunnel vision. Your white platform Mary Jane’s clank against the ground and your little pink mini skirt swishes with every step. You walk right over to Rafe and plop down in his lap, interrupting his money counting.

“Hey, baby.” You throw your arms around his neck and smile at him sweetly, which he returns.

“Hey princess. Thought you weren’t coming. Just gimme a second to finish this up and I’m all yours, Kay?” Rafe kisses your cheek all sloppy before going back to business. Which you don’t mind because you have some business of your own to take care of. You turn sideways in his lap to see Brittany glaring over at you with her mouth agape, like she’s shocked to see you sitting in your man’s lap.

“Oh, hey, Brit! Fancy seeing you here! I didn’t know you were seeing Barry!” You smile at her sickly sweet, gesturing to the way she was splayed across his thighs. “And I love the outfit, didn’t know dressing like a weird little fucking freak was in now!!” You giggle as you throw her words that she’s spewed to you a thousand times back in her face.

“What? I’m not seeing him. What are you talking about?” She scoffs and rolls her eyes, throwing her thin mousy brown hair over her shoulder. “And this? This is what everyone is wearing now. Do you live under a rock?”

“No, I don’t. I live in my fiancés big, nice house were he fucks me so good everyday.” Her blue eyes that she sloppily applied a large eyeliner wing to blow wide as her hand flies to her chest like you just hit her. It just makes you smirk as you lean across Barry’s lap so you can get in her face.

“Well, we will see how long it takes him to get bored of you. He is Rafe Cameron after all, you never know when someone shiny and new is gonna come around.” She says it quiet enough that you don’t think in his state of focus Rafe hears her but Barry suddenly looks very scared for her. And he should. You peer over your shoulder to make sure no one is looking your way and pull the butterfly knife tucked in your garter from its place all in one move. You stare into her eyes as you flick it open, finally putting those tricks you spent hours in your room teaching yourself to good use. You lace your finger into the loop of her cheap, wannabe choker and pull her face close to yours, holding the blade to her throat.

“Shiny and new?” You chuckle darkly. “Honey, you’re so fucking ran through Rafe is probably the only man on this island that hasn’t touched you. And he never will. So ditch the act. Go back to your lulu lemon’s and stay the fuck away from my man. Before I make you.” Your voice is calm and collected but the smile on your face and the underlying tone of it, mixed with the knife you have to her throat has her shaking with fear.

“You’re fucking crazy.” She gasps and tries to pull away but you only pull her closer, not enough to cut her, but enough to threaten it. You lean in so your lips brush her ear, letting out a manic giggle.

“You don’t even know the half of it. Stay away from him. Or you’re fucked.” You give her a condescending sticky lip gloss kiss on the cheek before pulling back and flicking your knife shut. She gasps and grabs her throat like you actually slit it and it sends you into a fit of laughter as she runs off with tears streaming down her face.

“Damn girl, I didn’t know you played like that.” Barry chuckles and he looks over at you with a proud smile.

“Yo, are you flirting with my girl again?” You look over your shoulder to see Rafe tucking a wad of cash into his pocket before you feel his arm lace around your waist so he can pull you against his chest.

“Nah, I mean, maybe a little bit.” Barry sends you a smirk and a wink that has Rafe groaning into the crook of your neck. “But don’t tell me you didn’t hear alla that…”

“Oh, no, I heard it.” You feel Rafe’s lips curve into a smile on your neck. “You feelin’ a little territorial bats?”

“Oh, absolutely. Not just over you, but over being the island's resident weird girl. You don’t get to jump on the train after shitting on it.” Your face sets into a glare that sends Barry and Rafe both into a fit of laughter. “Hey! Fuck you guys! That bitch made my life a living hell, she had it coming to her!”

“Yeah? You don’t think holding a knife to her throat was a little excessive?” Rafe squeezes your sides and you try to push off of him but he just pulls you closer.

“Honestly, country club is right. It probably would’ve been less crazy if you just hit her ass.” Barry rubs his fingers over his chin, the smirk on his lips causing the grill on his teeth to glint in the low light.

“That’s rich coming from you two!!” You scoff out a laugh that has them both laughing along with you.

“But honestly though? That was so fuckin’ hot, baby. Lemme take you home and show you who I belong to, yeah?” Rafe runs his nose along your throat before placing a few kisses there that have you throwing your head back against his chest with a sigh.

“Aye, unless you’re gonna let me in on it, I suggest you get a fuckin’ room.” Rafe sends Barry a glare that he returns with a smug smile. “What? Just sayin’.”

“Bro. It’s never gonna happen. Stop trying.” Rafe leans over you to shove Barry’s shoulder playfully before scooping you up carrying your ass out of there so he can take you home and fuck you until you can’t take it anymore.

Tagging some mooties: @babygorewhore @cxrrodedcoffin @starkeysprincess @cameronsprincess @rafeinterlude @nemesyaaa @bunnies-p1tst0p @eddiesxangel

All things Rafe & his weird!girl here

Divider by @anitalenia

[monamipencil]

first of all. v, i love your brain.

second. your writing skills???? this fic serves. i love this so much. the plot was so fucking good? AND THE TWIST? GODDAMN. i did not expect that. and the smut was hot too. i just went through a roller coaster of emotions.

third. i came here bcuz this looked nice and spicy, now my heart is broken into two.

annotations;

Corrupting Demon Hunters was delicious. Candy to the soul. If you truly had one.

grrr yes

That night, he was not engaging in conversation he was distracted. His gaze was set on you.

oh fuck, this is hot

Other times when he is burning with need, he would just go to yours, tail between his legs. Those times were the best.

im just a girl, i see a man like this, i fold so fast 🎀

No, the real root of his anger was that every night and every day, his mind was clogged with thoughts of you, like a disease eating away at his brain. Every time he blinked or took a breath you were present in there.

hehe 😌

He hated it.

not hehe 🧍‍♀️

Jeonghan blinked away, the tips of his ears red from both the third beer making his blood heat up and, obviously, from being startled by you.

it was just a wink, calm down

But gods, giving in felt so good.

forbidden tropes >>>>

As soon as you got to the tight, secluded alleyway of the pub, Jeonghan pressed your back against the exit door, pinning you with his body before grabbing your face with one hand, fingers digging into your cheeks before attacking you with a chaste kiss.

“Shut up. Don’t make me take a fourth,” he muttered darkly as he leaned over to plant a slow kiss on your lips. “I’d gladly kill you.”

At that, you laughed. “Sounds fun,”

asdfghjkl, i love their bickering. their dynamics >>>

You were unsure whether Jeonghan even realized that the reason why you were not feeding on human flesh was because you fed off his lust. His guilt and greed were so delicious that you did not need to reap souls.

damn, being a demon sounds fun

Past the scars and the bruises, past his skin, you saw his soul. It was a fiery, chaotic smoking light. Like a candlelight that dances erratically inside him.

GRRRRRRRRRRRRR, IM FERAL. FUCK, BRUISES? SCARS?? (i love his soul too <33)

But since everything he did with you was sinful, it was getting harder for him to tell.

asdfghjkl lmao

What have you done to me, the words echo in your head, making your pulse quicken. No matter how many times he has said this to you, or many other things equally as hurtful. It never failed to break you.

🧍‍♀️i love this

But you loved seeing that fire in his eyes, loved feeling the guilt pulsating in his veins. He smelled of fear, anguish, greed and lust. He wanted you, he hated you.

“You thought yourself to be special,” he gritted, pushing his cock relentlessly inside you, his fingers choking the life out of you. “You’re nothing to me. Nothing.”

something is wrong with me. why do i find this ... so hot

Jeonghan hated this. Jeonghan loved this. Hated it. Loved it.

RAHHHH 🦅🦅

“I hate you,” he said, his voice reducing to a mere whisper.

🥺 ok i'd actually cry tbh

Jeonghan would not want you had you been human.

wha-ow, that was uncalled for.

“I hate you more,” you said, though your tone was devoid of all venom.

aww, man🧍‍♀️this hurts

“Jeonghan, don’t go…” you said, sobs starting to coil in your throat.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

You were what smouldered the fire within him. You were the peace to his chaos. The bond he could never break not even in death, his soulmate.

WHAT? OH MY FUCING FGOD? R UFJVCJN SERIOSU? IM LITERALLY IN SHOCK

the curse | yoon jeonghan

› pairings: yoon jeonghan x female reader › aus: demon hunter jeonghan, supernatural au, demon reader › genres: angst, smut (18+) › word count: 4.6k

› 🎧: faux – katie | kiss&tell – ethan low and gen neo

› this one shot is part of my hannieween fest/kinktober special!

› warnings after the cut! READ THEM CAREFULLY 🗣️

› warnings: smut with little plot, exhibitionism, hate fucking, switch jeonghan, switch reader, humiliation kink, breath play, dirty talk, rough fucking, impact play, sadomasochism, monster fucking, a little bit of corruption kink, creampies, degradation/praise kink, hair pulling kink, no aftercare. pet names: wicked thing, baby, baby demon (hers)

› disclaimer: minors dni this post is intended for 18+ readers. please have your age stated in your description and try not to look like a bot please 🙂.

› author's note: as always, this is not proofread heh. i hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it..... i might write more things like this in the future

the curse

YOON JEONGHAN HAD EVERYTHING A DEMON LOVED TO CURRUPT. He was not the stuffy kind that would cross to the dark side to become evil after a little persuading, no. He was cruel and dangerous.

He had all the traits you would expect from a demon hunter. You had been told all your life to be weary of his kind. But what would life be without a little fun? Corrupting Demon Hunters was delicious. Candy to the soul. If you truly had one.

Jeonghan was sitting with his friends at one of the last tables of the pub. That night, he was not engaging in conversation he was distracted. His gaze was set on you.

You concealed a smile by biting your lower lip. You knew Jeonghan kept coming back to the pub to see you prancing around the tables. There he sat, a beautiful mess, riddled with a tension that he was too blind or too naïve to comprehend.

Hunters were not like regular humans. They could sense demons from a mile away naturally, they could resist the temptations that demons offered as easily as breathing. But that did not take away from the fact that they were mortal. They had a weakness in their being that demons loved way too much.

Even if hunters and demons hated each other by nature, too. Irresistible. That is one word that you liked to use whenever Jeonghan was around. Even if he was perched on his chair, eyes on you as if you were his source of entertainment, sipping on a beer slowly.

With your back turned to him, you felt his gaze piercing your back. It set your nerves ablaze, your blood thickening under your skin, making it prickle with a thrilling sensation. You wondered if he felt the same things the longer he looked at you.

Now, Jeonghan was no fool. He only came here the nights when he was craving for fun. Other times when he is burning with need, he would just go to yours, tail between his legs. Those times were the best.

But that night you knew he was trying to come off as uninterested. That is why he had not talked to you or even made a clear invitation to walk to his table. You kept yourself away from him, letting one of your co-workers serve his friends and him.

Jeonghan drank deeply from his pint, finishing it off with a pleased exhale. He lifted two fingers at one of the other servers, ordering another. You saw it on his face now more clearly, taking the advantage that his gaze had fallen on your pretty colleague. Jeonghan was pissed.

Why was he pissed?

It had taken everything in him not to arrive at the pub that night. He had been resisting the pull he felt toward you for almost two weeks. The root of his anger did not come from the fact that he could not let more than two weeks go by without coming to see you. He has gone even longer resisting you.   

No, the real root of his anger was that every night and every day, his mind was clogged with thoughts of you, like a disease eating away at his brain. Every time he blinked or took a breath you were present in there.

He hated it.

Hunters learned to resist temptation. They invested time, blood, sweat and tears to become stronger, to be lethal to demons. Greatest weapons of the underworld.

You sighed as you set your hands on the countertop of the bar, waiting. You sneaked a look over your shoulder, winking at him once you found his dark eyes on you. Jeonghan blinked away, the tips of his ears red from both the third beer making his blood heat up and, obviously, from being startled by you.

There it was again, he exhaled the taste of beer, he could taste you as he took a breath. Like a drug making his senses go dull. He hated it.

You were a thing he could not make sense of. Yoon Jeonghan was a man of strategy. In this world, he could not afford to give in to his impulses. That gets people like him killed.

But gods, giving in felt so good.

He looked again, also knowing that you kept observing him. With great reluctance, he made a gentle motion towards the back door. It was a simple move, and easy to pass up. But you knew him.

Whereas hunters were cold and calculated, demons were alluring and carefree. Humans repelled demons by instinct, their allure being so strong and strange that humans found demons dangerous. So they would rarely mingle.

But there were exceptions. You were one of them. Jeonghan attributed your ease of blending in the human world to your beauty. Your beautiful smile, your soft hair, your radiant skin. And your eagerness to make friends made you likable. Those things humans felt attracted to.

They did not know just how fucking deadly you were. That was Yoon Jeonghan’s reason for existing, that was why he got paid handsomely: to rid the world of creatures like you, and those he could not kill, he would make them go back into hiding in the underworld.

As soon as you got to the tight, secluded alleyway of the pub, Jeonghan pressed your back against the exit door, pinning you with his body before grabbing your face with one hand, fingers digging into your cheeks before attacking you with a chaste kiss.

You grabbed the hand squishing your cheeks and tossed it off you. “Hi there to you too,” you said.

“No time for that,” he murmured with a gruff tone, you tasted the beer on his tongue. But aside from that, you tasted him.

Demons had more senses than regular humans did. A few more than hunters too. Hunters were superhuman, stronger, faster, and smarter. Demons were all of that too, but they had something hunters did not. Demons held the power to taste souls.

“It’s been a while,” you pointed between hurried kisses, quickly becoming drunk on his tongue, his taste was like nothing else you had ever tasted before. It made your blood thicken, it numbed you, and it gave you pure and uncontainable bliss.

“How many humans have you killed since I last saw you?” he muttered in between rushed, wet kisses, grabbing your wrists to pin them above your head.

“Why, do you care about humans now?” you bit back, grabbing him by the jaw to keep kissing him

Jeonghan cared about humans. Just not too much. His care for humans did not go beyond work-related. They were a necessity.

“How many?” he growled now, inching away from your face.

“One,” you said, pronouncing the syllable as though it were a tragedy. “How many demons have you killed?”

“Three,” he replied flatly.

“Holding yourself back?” you smirked, delighted that he too had been lowering his body count out of confusion.

Usually, you would take three humans per week. They were your source of energy. But you had a rule, not to Jeonghan’s knowing. You limited yourself to humans that were corrupted by transgressing against their kind. You found their sins were too tasty to pass up.

But ever since you started this push and pull with Jeonghan, your body count has decreased in number quite tragically. From taking dozens of lives a week, you barely could take more than three now. And even if Jeonghan does not operate the same way as you do, you satiate your hunger differently.

Jeonghan kills for money, he kills for duty.

“Shut up. Don’t make me take a fourth,” he muttered darkly as he leaned over to plant a slow kiss on your lips. “I’d gladly kill you.”

At that, you laughed. “Sounds fun,” you breathed, nearly swept away by his lips trailing down your jawline. “But are we spicing things up already? We’ve only been doing this for a year…”  

Now, why has Jeonghan not killed you?

“Has it been a year already?” he asked aloofly, bending his knees a little before taking your thighs in his hands, you jumping to meet him halfway.

“Time flies when you’re having a good time,” you quipped, craning your neck for him to plant wet kisses down your throat.

“So they say,” he muttered, drunk off your scent but still lucid enough to come back with witty retorts.

There were plenty of monsters in this world. Creatures far deadlier and scarier than you. Nothing, no one in this world, human or not, wanted you as much as Jeonghan did. Why would he kill you? He has everything he wants with you.

You bristled. “Someone’s coming,” you whispered, your eyes flying open.

Like a mental slap, Jeonghan came back to his senses, pulling his head back and stopping his mouth on your skin with a disgruntled sound. He eased you back onto the ground and the exit door of the pub pushed open, you grabbed his wrist, taking him down the alley and towards the path that led down the forest.

You did not escape one of your coworkers seeing you drag Jeonghan to the sea of trees. If you were a human, it would bring you terrible shame to be seen scurrying off to the forest with a man to have privacy.

But being a demon, you knew no shame. You fed off pride, greed and lust.

Jeonghan slipped his wrist off your grasp as though your touch pained him. You were arriving at a small, secluded area covered by tall and thick trees, so you turned to him, just as he used his hands to push your shoulders.

You fell back onto your ass, but you were quick enough to use your elbows as support on the ground, raising your gaze to his fascinated face.

Jeonghan had used enough strength to break human bones. He followed your body, dropping to his knees between your parting legs. “Shall we do this quickly?” he asked, grinning at your eagerness.

“Why, do you have somewhere else to go?” you arched an eyebrow. You wished your words had been laced with sarcasm.

“Would you mind if I did?” he retorted, a hand snaking to find the hem of your knit sweater, pushing it up your chest.

You wanted to say yes. After hoping for two weeks to see him, it deflated you to think Jeonghan was slipping away from you so quickly. “No, of course not,” you replied, shuddering once he gave your tank top the same treatment he did to your sweater, leaving your tits bare.

“That’s what I thought,” he sighed, dipping his head to wrap his mouth around your left nipple.

You arched your back to his lips, just as he palmed your other breast, making you moan. You had gone longer than two weeks without fucking Jeonghan, but that was in the beginnings of this relationship. If you could even call it that.

That was before fucking Jeonghan became an addiction. Demons fed on sin. You were unsure whether Jeonghan even realized that the reason why you were not feeding on human flesh was because you fed off his lust. His guilt and greed were so delicious that you did not need to reap souls.

You have missed this. But you could not bring yourself to tell him that. However, it showed in your actions, arching your back on the ground, leaves and branches creaking under you as you sank your fingers in his long hair.

Jeonghan swallowed back a sound that sounded like a purr against the plain of your breast. “Are you hungry?”

He knows. You furrowed your brow, watching him lift his head to meet your eyes. “Yes,” you admitted.

“Take your clothes off,” he orders with a breathy tone, as if kissing your skin had robbed him of voice.

You sat up, as he knelt back, taking the chest harness off. He rarely removed his weapons when he fucked you in an open space. Whenever he visited you at your apartment, he would usually just leave his knife at hand, on your bedside table or the table he fucked you on.

You stripped the knit sweater, taking the tank top off, eyeing his skin with curious eyes as he took his black shirt off. Jeonghan was lean and strong, he bore bruises and scars all over his chest and arms. Knife, bite and claw marks.

He was beautiful.

Past the scars and the bruises, past his skin, you saw his soul. It was a fiery, chaotic smoking light. Like a candlelight that dances erratically inside him.

Seeing his soul was intrusive. But so alluring that you did not notice he was looking at you through his heavy set of eyelashes.

“What are you waiting for?” he cocked his head to one side, showing you a mocking smirk. “Do you think I’m going to undress you?”

“You did that last time,” you said between your teeth, but you lied back, lifting your hips to skitter off your pants, kicking your boots off with efficacy.

“Last time?” he frowned pensively, pausing before he placed his shirt aside on the ground. He shook his head lightly. “That was the second to last.”

“I get them mixed,” you shrugged, lying to him with ease.

Jeonghan knew whenever demons told a lie. He had been trained to sense whenever you performed a sinful act. But since everything he did with you was sinful, it was getting harder for him to tell.

He did not take his pants off, you did not ask why. You imagined that it was because he wanted to grasp what little dignity he had left in him. Maybe he did not want to strip completely because that gave him more power over you.

You were utterly bare under him. You did not care, you relished at the sight of him growing hard under his black pants either way.

“Turn over,” he said, gently palming the side of your thigh, urging you to move. “Hands and knees.”

You obeyed him, but not before you got to see him push his pants down, getting his cock out. He was fully hard for you, his veiny shaft standing up completely, his tip reddened and leaking precum at the slit.

You got on all fours, planting your hands and knees on the dirt, bracing yourself for him.

He used his knee to move yours on the ground, spreading your legs open a few more inches. “Mm, you missed me,” he noted with a low coo, running two fingertips on your folds. “So hungry, so wet.”

“Stop teasing me,” you bit back, though you were growing hot on the cheeks.

He found you out. But there was another issue. You were feeding off his lust and greed for you. But that did not explain why he also lowered the amount of demon kills he took. Was he doing it by pure choice?

Did Jeonghan feel guilty?

“Please, just give it to me,” you urged with a whimpery tone. You hated it.

“Alright, I’ll give it to you, you needy thing,” he replied with an empty laugh.

And then his fingers left your folds, you nearly whimpered at the loss. But then his fingers were quickly replaced by his cock, gently nudging its tip against your cunt, you clenched around nothing, but he felt your entrance throbbing with his cockhead.

“Fuck,” he sighed, grabbing you by the hips.

You closed your eyes, biting back a moan as his length started sinking in on you. The feeling was delicious, it made your blood surge and dance beneath your skin. It drew a moan out of Jeonghan, bottoming out on you.

He slid a hand from your hip, caressing your skin along the line of your back to meet your shoulder. He held you in place, a hand on your hip and the other on your shoulder before starting to plow on you, his hard thrusts knocking the wind out of you.

The feeling of his cock sliding on your walls was near-euphoric, the tip nudged at your g-spot quite quickly. Jeonghan knew your body better than you, his grip on you was harsh, holding you firmly as his hips jackhammered against your ass. The sound of skin slapping against each other quickly became an echo in the forest.  

“Jeonghan…” you moaned blissfully, letting the trees surrounding you that he was making you feel like this.

“Hell,” he murmured under his breath.

You muffled a moan in your mouth, fisting the leaves beneath you as if that could support you from crumbling out of sheer pleasure.

Fucking demons was rapturous. They revelled in perversion, they were the epitome of lust. It was playing with death. No one in their right mind would dare to do it, any mortal would either die or be killed trying. The pleasure was almost mind-shattering.

Jeonghan was past giving a fuck. “Where are your horns?” he muttered, thrusting his cock inside you hard and fast, he sounded out of breath.

“I’m concealing them,” you replied, equally as breathless, already toying at the edge of your release. “Thought you didn’t like them.”

“I don’t,” he grunted, letting go of your shoulder, his hand sliding to the middle of your back. “But I want to see them.”

You shuddered as his hand caressed you with a foreign gentleness. “No,” you replied.

“Come on, baby demon. Show ‘em to me,” he rasped, and you turned over your shoulder to see him.

Jeonghan was beautiful, he was tipping his head back, leaving his throat exposed to your gaze. You saw his throat bobbing when he swallowed hard, he was looking at your face, waiting for you to show him your horns.

“No,” you said, smirking devilishly at him. “I might if you ask nicely.”

“Ha. Nice try,” he sighed.

“What’s wrong, notable demon hunter lost his manners?” you gave him an empty laugh.

Jeonghan lifted his hand on your hip, landing it on your ass with a loud smack. “Stop that,” he warned darkly.

The spank was harsh, he used his raw strength to spank you every time. Your eyes stung with tears, but you gritted your teeth through it.

“I might be a demon, but I like indulging in a man with decorum,” you teased some more, enjoying the quiet flames of his soul growing enraged. You liked toying with him without him noticing it.

“Fuck,” he rasped.

Then a hand tangled in your hair, grabbing a fistful to yank you up. You squealed, but he did not stop fucking you hard and fast.

“You’re the one that needs to learn manners, not me,” he growled in your ear, his lips brushing on your earlobe. He released your hair, using his hands to palm your breasts, his fingers lingering on your nipples.

“Fuck, Jeonghan,” you moaned, arching your back for him, enjoying his cock filling your walls nicely, its tip teasing your g-spot repeatedly, unrelentingly.

“You’re close?” he asked, his tone low and raspy, tickling your senses.

You nodded eagerly, closing your eyes to savour the pleasure brimming inside you. You felt him everywhere. Not just his hands on your tits, or his hips meeting your ass, his cock stuffing you full. His touch made your blood surge, it made your chest tighten and heave.

You loved it.

“Come on me,” he mumbled lazily, removing a hand from your breast to meet your hip. His thrusts were growing sloppy, you knew he was close. “Cream all over my cock, baby.”

You hated him.

You hated that he used that word. He knew that it was a weak point for you. You had no choice, you crumbled back against him, your orgasm washing over you in fiery waves. You moaned loudly, nearly screaming but you did not care. The pleasure was so great, it had you moaning until you had no voice, no breath.

Jeonghan followed, dropping his forehead on your shoulder, dumping his load inside you with sloppy thrusts. He had stopped caring long ago about the consequences that might bring. And you had as well.

“You wicked little thing,” he panted, not quite stopping his thrusts yet. “What have you done to me?”

You gave him no reply, instead, you felt him growing hard inside you, pushing his cum back in. He kept fucking you slowly, as if with each thrust he was giving into you again.

What have you done to me, the words echo in your head, making your pulse quicken. No matter how many times he has said this to you, or many other things equally as hurtful. It never failed to break you.   

You used a hand to push his hips off, not caring that his cum slid down your thigh the minute you turned to face him, letting your body fall back onto the ground, bringing Jeonghan with you.

He gasped in surprise, but quickly recovered, positioning his arms around you, framing your head. “Round two?”

“Unless you have somewhere to go,” you smirked.

“I wish,” he replied, though you heard how numbly he sounded. “I wish I could stop wanting this,” he groaned, starting to thrust his hard cock inside you again.

“Careful,” you whispered, the smirk erasing from your face. “I know when you’re lying, hunter.”

His gaze darkened. “You’re not telling me to be careful,” he said. “You’re forgetting that I could kill you.”

“The fact that you haven’t tells me otherwise,” you said, though your tone waned as his thrusts started to become more powerful, you pushed your knees back, letting him drive his cock deeper inside you, drawing out a long moan from you.

A hand clutched your throat firmly, his fingers pressing on your windpipe strongly. You choked, grabbing his wrist to no end, because you let him strangle you.

“Why the fuck would I?” he growled, his face mere inches from yours. “You have the perfect little pussy, the perfect tits, perfect ass… I can’t afford to lose you.”

You blinked your watery eyes, your heart palpitating frantically, your chest constricting at the lack of air.

But you loved seeing that fire in his eyes, loved feeling the guilt pulsating in his veins. He smelled of fear, anguish, greed and lust. He wanted you, he hated you.

“You thought yourself to be special,” he gritted, pushing his cock relentlessly inside you, his fingers choking the life out of you. “You’re nothing to me. Nothing.”

Your lips curled in a smile at the way his body responded upon uttering that sentence. You closed your eyes, nearing the edge of another climax, which you let sweep through you, dancing in your veins.

You cherished the feeling of him inside you, fucking his first load back into you, only to then have it spilled out with each slam of his hips against yours.  

“There she is,” he whispered, his dark eyes glinting.

The pleasure was so brutal, you did not realize you had stopped concealing your horns. His fingers stopped pressing on your throat, but his hand lingered there. You looked at him while his gaze coasted at the sight of the black horns that curved back from the crown of your head.

“Don’t,” he muttered when they faded out of his view.

You exhaled, bringing your horns back.

“Wings too,” he whispered.

Even if you could smell the shame coursing through him, you also removed the concealment from your wings, showing how they had been tucked beneath your body the whole time.

Jeonghan slid a hand to your side, caressing your skin before brushing a knuckle on one of your black wings. You shuddered, hard, arching your back and pressing your tits against his chest.

“Jeonghan,” you mewled, closing your eyes under the thrill of having his touch on you.

“Does this make you come?” he asked a hint of playfulness in his tone making you open your eyes to his wide smile.

“Do it again,” you breathed.

At that, he obediently ran the back of two fingers along the soft membranous skin of your wings, the euphoric feeling bringing out a cry from you. “Yes,” you replied to his question.

Though he did not need verbal confirmation from you, your walls clamped around his cock, making him moan too. “Fuck,” he mumbled. “Such a wicked little thing,” he smiled. “Go ahead, demon. Come again.”

Your cheeks grew hot at the derogatory manner he called you. But you did not follow his command exactly.

Jeonghan switched his hand, propping his weight to the other to touch your neglected wing. He sent you a curious glance, right before using the back of his knuckles to brush your wing.

The touch was so light, so tender against your skin that it sent you to another orgasm. It was so brutal that it brought tears to your eyes, it was so euphoric that it made you scream, your mind going blank.

Jeonghan looked at you, completely mesmerized. “Gods,” he groaned, thrusting his hips sloppily on you, giving you his second load. You shuddered, feeling the ropes of hot cum filling you up.

He moved his hand from your wing, his touch gentle and light as he searched your eyes, cupping your cheek before he gave you a surprisingly sweet kiss. His thumb brushed your bottom lip, looking at you the same way he always did before he said goodbye.

Jeonghan hated this. Jeonghan loved this. Hated it. Loved it.

“I hate you,” he said, his voice reducing to a mere whisper.

It was sickening, it made your stomach churn, but it was not enough to make you wish you were something else. Deep down, you knew that Jeonghan would not want you had you been human.

You gave him a hollow laugh. “I hate you more,” you said, though your tone was devoid of all venom.

Then, the familiar pulsating feeling came. It only happened once in a while. It overwhelmed you with something you both welcomed and rejected. It was like a tight hand gripping your very soul. Jeonghan felt it too, you felt his body tensing up, still connected to yours.

Here it comes. You braced yourself.

Jeonghan retreated, slowly. He used his hand on your lower abdomen to push himself from you, grunting slightly as his cock slid out of your walls. With a heaviness that made his limbs clumsy, he gathered himself, standing up in front of you.

He tucked himself back in, picking up the rest of his things, with a perplexed look. It always happened like this.

He slowly turned his back on you, staggering against a tree, using a hand on it for support, he started panting in panic. You saw his back rise and fall just as you sat up on the ground, wrapping your wings around you protectively.

“Jeonghan, don’t go…” you said, sobs starting to coil in your throat.

But he did not look back.

The pulsating feeling gripped you harder this time, and that was enough to make you choke back a sob. Jeonghan grunted too, resuming to walk away disjointedly until he disappeared in the crowd of trees.

You wondered if this would be the last time you saw him. You wondered if the next time he saw you would be when he finally killed you.

There are plenty of monsters in this world, and plenty of mysteries too. You might be a mystery to Jeonghan, but he was not to you. Finally, you wondered if he suspected that the reason why he could not kill you was the same as why he could get enough of you.

You were what smouldered the fire within him. You were the peace to his chaos. The bond he could never break not even in death, his soulmate. 

› author's note: i've done it! i finally write a fic that's under 10k words!!! aaaaaaaa

i've got nothing to say. i just want jeonghan to split me open with his cock in the middle of a forest

anyways,

toodles (✿◠‿◠)

support me on ko-fi?

✧ READ PART TWO! ✧

© RIGHTS RESERVED TO HANNIEWEEN I DO NOT ALLOW TRANSLATIONS, CONTINUATIONS, REIMAGINATIONS OF MY WORKS OR THEIR REPOSTING ON OTHER WEBSITES.

[nylwnder]

little secret

a/n: hiiiiii bbs, sorry for the long gaps between fic drops for this series, life hates me and sometimes i just dont have the time to write </////3 or the motivation which is worse. waahhhh!!! HOWEVER, i was gifted some free time the past month, and because i love you guys so so much, i birth to you all: my first am34 fic <333333

pairing: auston matthews x fem!reader

warnings: SMUT! sex toys (lush toy), edging, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex, overstimulation, cockwarming, swearing, auston being in loveeeeee, secret relationship, confession of feelings

word count: 3.4k

taglist: @shoot-the-puck , @lukepangburn118, @eastoncowan , @boqvistsbabe , @sweetiet , @p1tstop , @occasionallyaurora , @laurenairay , @fallinallincurls , @andrea9 , @dylpickle4791 , @biznastysloneshift12 , @dramatic-queen

series masterpost

the vibrating feeling in between your thighs made you grip the edge of the counter top, almost dropping your drink. a moan escaped your throat as the pressure increased, your legs bucking before you felt yourself coming close to the edge.

“please please oh please” you mumble quietly but then the vibrations disappear all together again. you take a deep breath with a little whine.

you walk back to the couch, setting your small snack on the coffee table. watching as the leafs began to make it back out to the ice for the third period. knowing the teasing would take a break for the rest of the game unless he so happened to have his phone on the bench too.

—

it all started with a birthday present. a more mischievous gift for a relationship that's just freshly bloomed in the last few months. but your relationship is open and free and gratifying like that.

it was a small, curvy, hot pink toy. one that has devilish capabilities with the mere connection to a phone app. auston knew you would love it, and you also knew he would use the toy to its fullest potential—edging and overstimulating your folds as much as he can. and you do in fact love it, so it isn't surprising that you obliged when he handed it to you this afternoon. a mischievous grin on his face.

“need you to put this on for me, baby” he mentions gently, handing you the toy.

you take it in your palm, already imagining the impending feeling between your thighs. “when would you play with me though?” you ask, pondering the thought on how he’d manage in front of the team, nevermind the coaching crew.

he grins again, “i'll find a way. just need you to be a good girl and keep it in until i come home okay?”

you nod, biting your lip.

“i'll be nice, i promise” he mentions with a kiss to your cheek before a kiss to your lips.

—

unless his idea of nice was having you edged every single fucking time his finger began to play with the controls of the toy, then he was in fact nice. you were flustered, frustrated, being edged to reach any sort of release. you squirmed and whined as it tickled the bundle of nerves inside of you again as the team prepared for press. ready to discuss the well earned blowout win against the ducks, and the sixth hattrick of the season for auston.

you couldn’t deny it, auston looked so good out there on the ice—working the puck around bodies like nothing. and it made your heart swell that during the intermissions he couldn’t help but take the time and think of you, play with you, but oh did you want him home. in your arms so he can do you right.

you weren't even sure if you were overstimulated, even though he's been playing with you on-and-off for the past three hours and a half, you just wanted to cum. and oh god please on his cock.

—

auston kept his interview short and sweet, wanting to make it home earlier than usual despite the attention and requests regarding another outstanding performance. he wanted to get home to you.

the boys noticed his eagerness to skim through the usual routine, poking around and asking him if he's got a girl waiting at home. he gave a low smile, not discussing further than that. they didn't know about you yet. nobody knew.

being your boyfriend, he wasn't thrilled about the public eye getting a glimpse of you just yet. sure, he wants to take you out to a fancy dinner, hold your hand while you're walking home from the movies. of course he would want to show you off to the boys just so they can chirp him about how he landed you. but you were too special. too soft, kind and sweet. too perfect, he thought. he didn't want anyone to say otherwise, anyone to try to ruin you. the day will come when they know your name, sure. yet even when the moment arrives, when everyone finally lays eyes on you, he knows he’ll still be a protective force. always. if that means you’re his little secret for now, then so be it.

right now, you were all his. without anyone knowing. his warm soul. his dripping core. the one that he wants… no. he needs. right now. so badly.

—

when he got home his belongings were quickly discarded to the side. auston relishing in the warm and soothing atmosphere you have created out of his apartment, his senses welcomed by the sweet smell of you. the house always felt empty those nights you couldn’t be with him. your presence had brought a light to the home that it never had, that none of the other flings managed to spark.

he noticed your lounge pants laying near the couch in the living room. your slippers discarded on the other side. he moved forward to grab them, but placed it back down when he noticed your shirt near the entrance of the bedroom. a smile grew on his face.

a few steps forward granted him a beautiful view—his favourite view—the sole reason why he rushed through the toronto night traffic.

you sat at the edge of your bed in a satin lingerie slip. your hair was messy in that pretty way that framed your face, the way that made aus bite his lip in admiration. your lips softly pouted a “missed you.”

your legs slowly opened apart, showing your arousal from the night sopping through the fabric of your underwear. auston gave a low groan, and licked his lips.

“need you. so bad.” you whine.

he walks towards you, and you instantly wrap your legs around him to connect your lips. his grip on your hips yanks you higher onto the bed, allotting him space to get on and tower over you. you nip on his lip as you both break for air.

“you were mean” you murmur. he smirked, “i promised you i'd be nice, that's why i'm gonna make her feel so much better” he says, cupping your dripping core.

you whimper, “please”

his fingers hook on your panties, pulling them down and throwing them to the side. he reaches for the tail of the lush toy, making sure to gently pull the rest of it out. you squirmed at the emptiness, aus seeing the way your entrance clenched around nothing.

“you did s’good, baby. taking it like a good girl” he mutters in your ear as his lips attach to your neck. his wet kisses mixed with his nipping move down to your collarbone, then to the tops of your breasts.

he makes sure to keep his work up until he knows purple and red marks will litter your skin in a couple of hours. making it difficult for you to hide them everytime you leave his apartment. god forbid your friends see them. you're not in the mood to be forced to disclose any more details about your boyfriend. you just wanna keep living in this little bubble the two of you have managed to keep.

not yet. just a little longer.

“mmm, you looked so good out there baby” you manage to mutter. trying your best to not get lost in his kisses but sometimes it's just too hard.

you can feel his smile against your skin. “thank you” he says, kissing on top of his mouth’s handiwork before grabbing you by the hips and bringing you to sit down on his lap.

“your sixth hattrick. not everyone can do that” you speak again, smiling, running your fingers through his hair at the nape of his neck.

his smile didn't leave his face, leaning in to kiss you tenderly. “…nevermind the fact that this was your second back-to-back hatty” you say against his lips.

this time he begins to blush, in what you think is quite literally the most beautiful way possible. you can't help but to kiss him again. he looks down while squeezing your hips before looking back up and letting out a light chuckle. “we gonna keep talking about it or are you going to let me celebrate with you? hm?”

it's your turn to flush a bit. embarrassed you may have been discussing something in a situation where you shouldn’t even be talking in the first place. but you couldn't help it, you wanted to give him all the possible affirmations you could.

“m’sorry” you reply, wrapping your arms tighter around his frame, endeavouring in the taste of his mouth once again. you can feel the mint from the gum he was chewing on the drive back home. it relaxes you.

one of his hands stays pressed on your spine, scrunching the material of your night slip between his fingers, while his other hand travels down. his large palm shamelessly grabbing your ass, moulding your flesh to the shape of his fingers. your skin quickly heats up again and your mind swirls over the rhythm of his tongue against yours and the bulge growing beneath you. aus presses you down, hard, against his clothed lap, it feels like he's already fucking you. but it's the illusion of his fingers bluntly sliding between your folds and pressing over your opening, stirring a good moan out of you.

he sticks in a finger and you subconsciously bite down on his lip. he hums before sticking in another and you accidentally do the same thing again. there's a burning feeling between your thighs, perhaps you are overstimulated after all. but that's not stopping you. you still want him to help you to that finish line that he so cruelly didn't let you reach.

he pumps in and out a bit, making sure you’re wet enough. that was surely a fact, with the way your juices covered his fingers so exceedingly. anticipation continued to build inside of auston, causing the bulge between his thighs to strain against his dress pants. hes been thinking about you the whole night, and your pussy even more.

you untug auston’s shirt, allowing you to unbutton his pants. he helps you pull them off of his legs, while you take off his shirt from his sculpted chest. you run your fingers down his torso, following the lines that shape him. his lips connect to your neck, immediately finding your pulse point. you grind down on him and he allows a groan to escape his lips and echo in your ear. you smile.

“can i take this off?” he asks, tugging at your slip.

you nod needily, the cold air hardening your nipples at the exposure. auston can't help but groan again, yanking you up so he can attach his lips to them. you whine sharply, feeling the tip of his cock nudging near your entrance as well.

he releases your one nipple with a “pop”, sinking you down on his length before you can even make out a sound.

“m’fuck” you mumble, your body ablaze.

“god you’re truly the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen” he says. holding your hips back to get a good look at you.

“auston…” you whine at him, blood rushing to your cheeks again in slight shyness. however your walls clench around him.

“let me compliment you.” he laughed, helping your hips sway against his lap. left, right, up and down, it all felt exactly how you wanted. perfect.

your cunt was soaking wet. the sounds the two of you make where your bodies connect is unholy. auston’s fingers have a tight grip on your love handles, trying his best to keep himself together for you. he chose to focus on littering whatever skin he can reach with more marks, making sure you remember you’re his when you wake up tomorrow morning.

with all the emotions and sensations it truly doesn't take you long to feel the addictive feeling deep in your stomach again. eyes fluttering shut, mewls escaping your pink plump lips, boobs swaying gracefully with your movements, it's like a scene out of a dream the way your walls have a snug grip on auston’s cock. shes perfect, he notes to himself.

he holds you close to him, before moving you to lay down on the bed. he pushes his hands under your thighs and lifts your hips. the position slides him even deeper. makes his cock push up into you, into that spongy part inside that forces your eyes to roll back even more. your thighs begin to tremble.

“take me so good baby, s’like you were made for me.”

“i am.” you respond, because he’s made you honest. in the delirium of him, you’re saying what you’ve had buried inside of you for the past months, waiting for moments like this. with the way he makes you feel it's impossible not to think this way. my god, you’re sure you love him.

with your breathing heavy, recovering from your high, auston groans against your lips––pumping himself into you like a man fueled by pure hunger. the warmth of his cum spilling into you makes you all the more lightheaded.

you grip at the nape of auston’s neck, bringing him in for a kiss. both of your lips already hot pink and puffy. but the need to ground each other is so strong.

the euphoric feeling of relief from your earlier pent up frustration begins to make your body soften. your head felt more vulnerable and you couldn't suppress the words any further. “aus..” you say, kissing his lips before looking him in the eyes. he gives out a small hum in acknowledgment.

“i-i love you. i really do.” your hands squeeze the ends of his hair in anticipation of his response.

did you know that a 6’3, beefy, sassy hockey player can feel butterflies? cause auston is pretty sure he just did. a smile crept up from the corners of his mouth and overtook his entire demeanour. you couldn’t help but reciprocate it.

“yeah?” he asks softly.

you nod, auston’s hands moving to drop your legs and grip your sides instead.

“i love you too, baby.” why wouldn't i? you're too good to be true.

a feeling of bliss overtakes your body. pent up emotions finally all out on the table. its been a lovely set of months now and perhaps you both are ready for that next step.

both of his hands interlock with yours, moving your arms up and over your head. the grip is snug and safe. you can picture holding hands in the cold weather, his palm big and warm enough that you don't need mittens like you used to.

his lips meet yours in a slow gentle kiss. your cheeks blush at the thought of kissing auston straight from the locker room, or his lips leaving a peck on your forehead as you two wait for a table at a restaurant.

the little things.

a whimper leaves your lips, an angelic sound, and an unconscious reaction to auston’s kisses. you can feel auston twitch inside you. so in response, you rock your hips upwards.

“there she is,” he smirks down at you, “there’s my fucking dirty girl.” he notes the dreamy glint in your eye, “you want some more, huh?” you bite your lip, nodding. auston pulls out, just for a moment and your pussy aches at the cruel feeling of emptiness.

kneeling in front of you, aus guides you to turn to your side, straddling one of your legs and grabbing the other one to curl around his side. he aligns himself to your entrance and pushes in without hesitation, already missing the warmth of your wet walls. he continues with his sharp thrusts, one of his hands moving to play with your breasts, rolling your nipples in between his fingers. moans fill the space in the room, and slips of his name fill in the gaps.

the stimulation you feel is so fucking good, for lack of better terms. in contrast to his earlier teases, his thrusts don’t seem to stop anytime soon and you couldn't be any more grateful. your cunt clenching around him so tight that auston hisses, groaning deeply. he shakes his head as if he can’t believe it.

“you’re fucking purring angel, like i didn’t just cum on your pretty pussy. what am i gonna do with you, huh?”

his words make you cry, looking up at him with doe eyes, urging him to bring you to that beautiful edge. “fuck dontstop–so close–so close–” you mumble out quickly. searching for his hand laying on top of your breasts, you tangle your fingers around his again, he squeezes them lovingly. your cheeks fill with a blush tint.

“didn’t plan on it, baby.” he says, making his other hand move to your clit, pressing to rub circles around it, then triangles and then squares and then fucking diamonds. god you didn’t know you just wanted him to keep going and drive you through that burning feeling inside of you.

and so he does, eliciting more sounds from your soft lips along with shivers down your body. he whispers to you how beautiful you are in your ear, while he cums in your sweet cunt once again. you’ll never get over that feeling.

auston grabs you close as he flips the two of you, allowing him to lay down on the pillows, your body sprawled on top of him. his cock still snug in you. you softly hum, this position letting both of you settle down from your shared highs. aus feels your smell calm him, the faint scent of your floral shampoo steadying his breathing, his heartbeat relaxed. he has never felt so safe, so comfortable.

he didn’t want you to move, not even dare to leave this warmth the two of you have created. he's used to getting up after a sexual endeavour like such, two people going their separate ways, hell he's even urgently guided girls out the door. but you? never. if he could keep you here, with him–just him–forever, he would.

you felt auston slowly get soft inside you, and you took that as a queue to take a quick trip to the bathroom to clean yourself up. trying to detach yourself from the soft and gentle embrace of your boyfriend was hard, you didn't want to leave him.

“where are you going?” auston asks, grabbing your waist as you sit up from his chest.

“just the bathroom.” you mention, getting further up and feeling him slip out of you. you let out a small instinctive whimper to the loss. you notice the pout in his eyes, “i’ll only be a minute, don't worry.”

auston was hesitant to let go of your hand, missing the soft feeling contrasted to his rough hands, despite the fact they aren't as calloused as they could be. you smiled at his clinginess, it truly was a compliment. you got up and swiftly made your way to the bathroom mats, as the cold floor sent a quiver up your body. after cleaning yourself up you looked at yourself in the mirror while you washed your hands. you could see the love marks appearing around your breasts, not an uncommon place to find them. aus makes sure to leave new ones each time they start fading.

you make your way back to the bed, seeing auston settled in the sheets. he looks at you with genuinity. a twinkle in his eye. love pouring out of his tender gaze. your skin grows hot. you smile and drop your head to his shoulder once you reach him. “you should see the look on your face”

“what?” he asks curiously.

you look up at him, after wrapping your legs around his own. “you look absolutely smitten.”

he smiles. “good.” he exclaims. proud.

you are quick to get soothed back into his pool of warmth, along with his hand running against your back. here and there reaching the top of your bum, before making its way back up.

you think about your shared confession from earlier. the weight of those immense feelings towering over the two of you gone. all the opportunities and possibilities at your fingertips. “so when do you think i’ll get one of those cute playoff jackets the wives and girlfriends get?”

“you want one?” auston asks, you can hear the smile in his words, if you chose to lift your head you would probably see the smirk too.

“yeah,” you reply, playing with the fingers on his other hand. “i want to be at every game.”

“i’ll make sure you’re the first to get yours then.” you now chose to look up at him, your own happiness radiating across your face. “promise?” you ask, lightly giggling.

“promise.”

“good.”

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[padfootagain]

Love in Verses (XXX)

Chapter 30: ‘You liked me well enough in black; I make you a gift of these objects’

Hi! Here is a new chapter! Some shopping for our lovebirds that turns into Andrew fighting for his life…

I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 3322

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Here are my black clothes

I think now it is better to love no one than to love you. Here are my black clothes, the tired nightgowns and robes fraying in many places. Why should they hand useless as though I were going naked? You liked me well enough in black; I make you a gift of these objects. You will want to touch them with your mouth, run your fingers through the thin tender underthings and I will not need them in my new life.

Louise Glück, The First Five Book of Poems

The tailor was posh but undoubtedly talented. Then again, it was a tailor, posh was to be expected.

It was the old type of tailor, the one you saw in movies, the type that hid a secret passage to the secret service. Wooden walls covered with wooden shelves and clothes, wooden tiles on the floor, large corduroy armchairs. You walked in feeling like you didn’t belong there, like you should never have come in the first place.

Frank spotted you instantly when you walked in. You hadn’t seen each other in a few weeks, there were times when you missed him. There were times when you didn’t think of him at all… what a strange feeling… he was always in your thoughts for years…

You wished Andrew was there with you. You wondered if his classes were going well this morning, you wanted to make him a coffee and chat instead of working…

“Y/N!” Frank beamed at you, crossing the room to give you a hug. “I’ve missed you! We’ve spent too long apart!”

“Missed you too. You look well! Are you ready to choose your suit?”

“I’m so nervous,” he admitted with an uncomfortable laugh.

“It’ll be just fine.”

You said hello to Frank’s friends and family members gathered in the shop. Only a few people, including the three best men.

The tailor came in a few minutes later, started taking care of his clients. You remained quiet while the group was splitting its attention between Frank’s suit and his best men’ clothes.

The plan was simple. You had to give him terrible advice. You had to ruin the suit, make him look ridiculous. Something that Sam would hate.

That was the only way to weaken the wedding with today’s activity.

You waited patiently, watched Frank try suits on. Every piece of garment shattered your heart.

You should have been the one discovering the suit on your wedding day. You should have been the one he talked about now, asking if you would like that colour on him, hoping you would find him handsome.

He was. He was handsome. So fucking much. You wanted to shout, to claw your eyes out of their sockets with the pain of it. He was so handsome, and you should have never been here. Instead of seeing him try on all these suits, you should have been the bride hiding her dress from him. But you weren’t. You were just the friend he was turning his attention to now, asking for an advice.

And you couldn’t do it. Couldn’t ruin this for him. You were too kind-hearted for that, or perhaps, you were simply too much in pain.

You struggled to put a smile on your face.

“I think navy blue is better than green on you.”

“You think?” he asked, looking at the two shades.

“It matches your eyes better. Makes them pop.”

He smiled, bright and excited.

Had he ever smiled like this thinking of your wedding? Of marrying you?

“Thank you, Y/N. You’re always right with those things.”

“Because I pay attention.”

Your answer held more meaning than it seemed, but he didn’t notice. He never did. Not when it was you.

And you wanted revenge now. You wanted him to regret you. You wanted him to see that you were enough, that you were always enough, that Sam wasn’t better than you… even if you didn’t really believe it. Frank had chosen Sam. Andrew had been in love with her, and now that he was starting to move on, it was to be with a woman who wasn’t you.

You excused yourself, looked for the bathroom. The moment you turned the lock on your door, the tears were let free.

You looked so sad when you came back.

It was almost noon when you stepped in the office, Andrew had been waiting for you to eat his lunch. He didn’t have classes for the rest of the day, and neither did you. He was relieved about it, you clearly needed some help.

“How did it go?” he asked as you closed the door behind you.

You didn’t answer at first, instead you took the time to take off your coat, let yourself fall in your office chair and throw your head back towards the ceiling. You let out a dramatic moan, Andrew chuckled at the sound.

“That bad, huh? Did you make him choose something terrible to wear?”

You didn’t answer.

“Let me guess… you saw him in there, it broke your heart, but you didn’t lie and helped him look stunning for his wedding day.”

“How do you know? That’s exactly what happened.”

“I know you. You’re too kind to do something so mean and selfish. Hiding a few bottles of champagne is one thing, making your ex look like a fool on the most important day of his life is another.”

“I’m so pathetic. I feel so… pathetic…”

“You’re not. You’re just heartbroken.”

“Same bloody thing.”

“What can I do?”

You looked at him then, tears in your eyes and looking so sad… so damn sad…

But then you looked angry instead, wrath burning through your gaze and Andrew shuddered at the sight.

You looked gorgeous like this, despite your eyes reddened with tears. Fierce was a good look on you, it had always been…

“I’m going to make him regret me so fucking much he’ll beg to get me back.”

He raised an eyebrow, surprised by your determination.

“And how do we do that?”

“By making me look so fucking good he’ll have nightmares about leaving me.”

Andrew’s heart skipped a beat. His words came out in a whisper you didn’t hear.

“You’re always gorgeous, Y/N…”

“We’re going to this party they’re throwing two weeks before the wedding. So… in…”

“Two weeks.”

“Yeah… in two weeks. God, I can’t believe it’s the end of April already. Exams will be back in no time.”

“Don’t mention that…” Andrew winced. “Besides, we’ll have to go through the conference first…”

“Did you have an answer for that by the way?”

Andrew smiled.

“Main speaker on the second day. Forty-minutes presentation.”

“That’s awesome, Andy! Congrats!”

“I’m going to hate every second of it.”

“You’ll be brilliant.”

“We’ll need to rehearse your presentation too.”

“Yes, thank you for helping me.”

“Don’t mention it. We’re a team.”

You exchanged a tender smile, one that reached gratefulness for more than professional support.

“Anyway, I’m going to go shopping after work,” you declared. “I’ll buy the most gorgeous dress for that party. And Frank will be at my fucking feet.”

Andrew chuckled at that.

“Alright, good plan.”

“Actually… can I be insufferable and ask for your help?”

“Pardon me? My help? I don’t know anything about dresses…”

“You’re a man. You know what men like. Actually, you know what? We could go now. Be back before two and work this afternoon.”

“Now?”

“Now.”

“Okay…”

Andrew gathered his things in a hurry, let you babble away while you exited the office. He didn’t mention the way your voice was shaking from time to time, how your eyes still glistened with withheld tears.

He didn’t mention any of it. He merely drove you to the shop you liked.

Andrew didn’t know what to do while you browsed through expensive dresses, selected a few, asked for his opinion. He didn’t really have any. He had no idea what he was supposed to do to make you smile again, to make you happy, to make you feel as beautiful as you truly were…

You walked in a fitting room with five different dresses to try on. There weren’t many people in the shop at this hour, only an old woman with her grand-daughter were looking for a dress for the young woman. The elder lady started chatting casually with Andrew while they both waited in front of the cabins.

“Your girlfriend is looking for a dress for a special occasion?” she asked, and Andrew fiercely blushed.

“Oh… no, she’s not… we’re not… She’s not my girlfriend.”

She gave him a look, one that annoyed him a lot.

“Right… I see…”

Andrew ignored her, her grand-daughter showing her a dress the perfect excuse not to answer.

And then he heard you calling his name in a quiet voice…

His heart didn’t just skip a few beats, it stopped altogether. Butterflies didn’t cut it, these were fireworks in his stomach.

You were standing there in an emerald dress that fell across your calves, a low cut on your cleavage that made his wildest fantasies about you seem mild.

“What do you think? I like this one.”

You turned around to show him the back, or rather, the absence of clothing on the backless dress.

Andrew couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think…

You were so… so…

“How do I look?”

You were so… so…

“…Breathtaking.”

You blinked up at him. And he tried to hide his reaction, but he couldn’t. He must have looked stunned, a deer in headlights, and he couldn’t help it. You were so…

“…Perfect.”

You raised a surprised eyebrow, a shy smile forming on your lips.

He wanted to kiss you so badly. He wanted to touch the skin of your back the dress revealed. He wanted to run his fingers along your cleavage. He wanted to tear that gorgeous dress off you…

He cleared his throat, averted his eyes so he would stop staring at you.

“Yeah… that’s… a good one.”

“I have another I like, hang on.”

He nodded, unable to look at you. He could feel warmth spreading through his body, but he would never survive the humiliation of getting a boner in the middle of a shop because you were trying dresses on…

“Not your girlfriend, huh?”

Andrew turned to the stranger, the old woman giving him a knowing smile.

“You’d better make her your girlfriend, before it’s too late.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“No, of course not.”

She heaved a sigh, looking at the closed curtain of the fitting room where her grand-daughter had disappeared.

“My husband looked at me like that, you know? The way you look at her. And I can only hope my grand-child will find someone who will look at her like that, too.”

“Like what?”

“Like she is the most beautiful thing on this earth.”

She stared right into his eyes.

“The way you must be looked at when you are loved.”

Andrew struggled to swallow, looked away, fiercely blushing.

Christ, he was a desperate case. And if a stranger could notice his feelings for you, surely everyone had… what would you say if you noticed? Would you push him away? Would you break his heart?

You walked out of your cabin again, wearing a black dress this time. And Andrew tried to hide it better this time, but you looked divine. It fitted your curves perfectly, it made your body look like sin…

“What about this one?” you asked, turning around, and Andrew hated himself for being unable to stop himself from staring at your arse.

“Yeah… that’s a good one too,” he nodded, clearing his throat.

“Which one do you prefer?”

“I… I don’t know…”

“Come on! I like both. I don’t know which one to pick. What’s your favourite?”

He struggled to control his breathing, to slow down his heart.

“I… erm… I really liked the green one.”

“The green one?”

“Yeah, it… you’re gorgeous in this dress too though.”

He heard you clearing your throat too.

“Right… the green dress it is, then.”

“Yeah… okay… grand… erm, like… good…”

“Thanks, Andy.”

“Don’t mention it.”

Christ, please, don’t mention it…

“I’ll get changed real quick.”

He hummed as he nodded, still unable to look at you.

By his side, the elderly lady chuckled, and Andrew wanted to dissolve into nothing, a puddle on the ground, to simply be atomised into thin air…

You bought the dress, Andrew drove you back to Trinity in relative silence. He was too busy picturing you in these dresses again, too busy trying not to picture you in these dresses again.

When you walked back to your office though, it was obvious that you were still sad. That search for a semblance of power over a situation you couldn’t control was gone again. He let out a long exhale through his nose as he looked at you sitting behind your desk. He crossed the room, avoiding the lamp hanging from the ceiling, and gave you a soft smile.

“You’re alright, Y/N?”

You shook your head.

“I’m sorry… I just… I can’t get over it.”

“It’s okay. You’re upset, that’s all.”

“Seeing him like this… wearing these suits… he should have been wearing them for me…”

“I know. I know, Y/N.”

“I want my life back.”

“But you have one. You have one now. You don’t need him in it.”

“I feel like I need him. I feel like I… like I just messed everything up.”

“You didn’t. You didn’t mess anything up. None of this is your fault.”

“If he chose her, then I must be lacking something…”

“You’re not. Trust me, you’re not lacking anything. It’s his loss if he can’t see what’s right in front of him.”

You looked up at him, surprised by the sudden harshness of his tone.

“You don’t need him, Y/N… you… you could have better than him. You… he’s not… He’s not even paying attention to you.”

“What do you mean?”

“He doesn’t really care. I think he’s a little too selfish for that.”

He shook his head.

“I see you with him, you know? You’re not yourself. You’re not… babbling away about cinema, or literature, or art or this recipe you’ve just tried or… it’s like you just shut down. And you listen, and then you make a tiny summary of all the things you wanted to say… but you’re so fucking smart. You’re so fucking interesting. You’re… you shouldn’t be with someone who doesn’t care about what you have to say. And he fucking broke your heart! Why do you still want him? Why…?”

Why do you still want him, instead of me?

But he didn’t say it. He stopped, and closed his fists tightly.

Andrew was growing annoyed, angry even. And of course you noticed, he reckoned he was doing a pretty bad job at hiding his true feelings.

“Y/N… Frank… I’m not saying he’s a bad person, but…”

“But?”

“But he doesn’t deserve you.”

You raised an eyebrow, visibly unimpressed.

“Really? Why not? It’s not like I’m anything special, anyway.”

Andrew frowned hard.

“Are you listening to yourself?!” he asked with something aghast in his voice, a genuine incomprehension that surprised you. “You’re… you’re amazing. You deserve so much better than him! You deserve to be treated with respect, to have someone who actually pays attention to you, who cares about you, who listens to you when you’re talking about your passions, who’s not going to disregard what you’re saying simply because they disagree…”

But you interrupted him with a scoff.

“Perfection doesn’t exist, Andy. I’ve learned as much in life. I don’t have a choice but to settle for less than that.”

“There’s a difference between accepting someone’s faults and flaws and setting the bar so low it’s actually buried underground…”

“You’re one to talk! You’re still in love with Samantha despite how she hurt you, despite the fact that she doesn’t give two shites about your poetry or your work, about the fact that she won’t make a single fucking effort for you…”

“Who says I’m still in love with her?”

You raised a surprised eyebrow, and you were genuinely taken aback this time, Andrew could tell.

“You’re not?” you asked, your tone quieter, Andrew guessed that it was a side-effect of your surprise.

“No, I’m not. I’ve learnt my lesson. I want to move on. I… I’m moving on.”

“Wow… that’s… good… That’s really grand, Andy. Is it… because of that woman you mentioned?”

Andrew’s heart sped up, he could feel himself panicking, he closed and opened his fists multiple times in an attempt to slow down his breathing.

“I… I mean… kind of…”

“Kind of?”

“I…”

He took a deep breath, gathering his courage.

“I want to be with her. I… I just… I haven’t told her yet.”

“Why not? You should ask her on a date.”

But he shook his head.

“She won’t say yes. I know her, she won’t go on a date with me, not for now. Besides… It’s too soon… for me too, I mean. I need to put Sam behind me for good, before I can try to be with her.”

You stared at him with a blank expression… or rather, not blank. The opposite. Like you felt something but tried to show the opposite reaction. The result was unreadable to him.

“I’m glad you’re moving on.”

But your tone was flat, and you didn’t seem happy at all.

“Thanks,” Andrew answered anyway.

You heaved a tired sigh.

“Please, don’t judge me with Frank. I… you don’t understand.”

Andrew sighed too, let the air out through gritted teeth.

“No, you’re right. I don’t understand. I mean… I do. I do understand the process of grieving for a life that wasn’t fully yours to begin with, but you thought would belong to you. But that’s the thing, Y/N. You need to start grieving now. You can’t remain stuck there forever. You… You deserve to be happy. You deserve better than that. Don’t do that to yourself. Especially not for someone like him. We deserve better than this, Y/N.”

You stared at him now, tears in your eyes, a sight he wished he could banish forever. He would take all of your pain away if he could, he would suffer it in your stead.

“It’s not that easy, Andy,” you shook your head, taking a step back.

“It could be. It could be, Y/N…”

“I’ve loved him for so long…”

Andrew slowly nodded.

“You could love again, with a little bit of time. He… he doesn’t care about you, Y/N. He doesn’t… listen when you talk. He acts like he does, but he doesn’t. He’s not interested in what makes you happy…”

“Neither is Sam with you.”

“I know. I know, and I don’t want that anymore.”

“But I want Frank.”

Your voice was shaking, it didn’t sound either earnest nor convincing. Still, hearing the words broke Andrew’s heart.

After everything… how could you still want Frank… why couldn’t you want him instead?

Could you… could you ever want him?

Andrew closed his fists tightly, until he could feel the sharp pain of his nails digging crescent marks into his palm. Perhaps you would never want him. Maybe it wasn’t just about Frank, maybe it was about him… maybe he was simply… not your type, not attractive to you, not good enough.

He let out a long, painful exhale through his nose.

“Would that make you happy?” he genuinely asked, voice quiet, deeper than usual, but softer than before as well. “Is that what will make you happy?”

You stared at him for a moment, then clenched your jaw. When you answered, he couldn’t read in your eyes whether or not you were telling the truth. Maybe you were lying… against all odds, he hoped you were lying.

“Yes.”

One word, breathed out, it was enough to break his heart.

Slowly, Andrew nodded.

“Alright, we’ll do it then. We’ll go to that stupid party. We’ll make him jealous. We’ll make him see what he’s losing by choosing Sam over you. If it’s what it takes for you to be happy… As long as it makes you happy.”

“Thank you.”

He stared at you as you walked back to your desk, sat before your computer, looked at the screen.

He turned around, blinking tears away, stood in front of the window behind his desk.

As long as it would make you happy…

[ponderingmoonlight]

And yet, you're here

Pairing: Geto x fem!reader

Word Count: 2,8k

Synopsis: Years after Suguru left, you're still not able to get him off your mind. When he reappears years after his betrayal, the past collides with the present. Unexpected, in a way you didn't even dare to dream about.

Warnings: this isn't proofread 100%, the emotional rollercoaster you deserve, hurt to comfort big time, this is for all my geto girlies who deserve their happy ending

please please please make this go viral thank you

„He’s a threat for the whole population!”

“We need to kill that brat before he kills all non-sorcerers.”

“I can’t believe someone like him was able to do something like…that.”

“So much wasted potential. Why does a special grade sorcerer act this way?”

“I thought he’s a nice boy.”

“So, you’re not one of those nice guys I guess.”

The sun already hung so low in the sky that you were barely able to see his soft features, let alone the surprised look that crept over his face while hearing those words coming from your mouth.

“Are you talking about me or Satoru?”

You let out one of those cute chuckles he adored so much, the kind he heard in his head on repeat even when you were long gone. Gosh, he couldn’t get enough of this. Those lonely nights with only you and a cigarette by his side, the countless hours he spent trying to understand you while it was his mind that slowly but surely fell apart.

“Nope, I’m always talking about you, Suguru.”

“What am I if not a nice guy, then?”

Sure, Satoru Gojo was his one and only best friend, but you were something else entirely: An unspoken bond that lived in the spaces between words, in glances that lingered just a moment too long. You weren’t a lover, not in the conventional sense, but you weren’t just a friend either. You were a mirror to his soul, the keeper of truths he couldn't bear to speak aloud, and the only person who could hold the weight of his silence without it breaking you both.

“You’re... complicated,” you finally replied, the word laced with warmth rather than judgment.

“You’re the kind of person who feels too much but hides it too well. The kind who would burn the world down if it meant saving the people you love. Not everyone understands that, but I do. Or at least I’m convinced I do.”

Suguru’s lips twitched into a faint smile, more melancholic than amused.

“Complicated, huh? That’s one way to put it.”

“And dangerous,” you added lightly, the hint of a smile in your voice.

“But not in the way they think. Not to me.”

His expression softened, the darkness in his eyes easing for just a moment as he stared at you.

“Not to you,” he echoed, as though testing the words on his tongue, letting them sink into the cracks of his fraying soul.

Till this day, that one last conversation both of you had on that lonely bench still haunts him. The way you looked at him back then, as if you’d already knew that you might never see him again, as if you just counted the hours until he goes berserk.

What are you thinking about him now?

Is he still on your mind?

Are you hating him the way Satoru does?

“You’re thinking about her again, don’t you?”

Fuck. He thought about you.

Again.

Suguru lets out a sharp exhale, the sound halfway between a sigh and a laugh, bitter enough to sting his own ears. How pathetic he has to look to the people surrounding him. When he walked down this path, he knew that he’ll have to do it without you, that he won’t be able to see you again. And yet…

Losing you seems to hurt more than anything else.

 “Of course I am,” he admits to his assistant, his voice low and rough like gravel underfoot.

“Not like I can help it. She’s everywhere, even when she’s not. It’s ridiculous.”

There it is again, your face ghosting through his mind. Other than Satoru and Shoko, you never really tried to find him. If you wanted to, you would, right? Maybe you’re too mad at him for all the things he’s done. Or maybe you already forgot about him.

 “But it doesn’t matter, does it? She’s gone. Just like everything else.”

For a moment, he closes his eyes, trying to drown out the memories, the sound of your laugh, the way your voice softened when you said his name, the weight of your eyes on him as if you could see through all the lies he told himself. He’d burn every memory if he could, let them smolder in the same fire that consumed the rest of his life.

“Besides. She’d hate me now, just like everyone else. Maybe she was just waiting for me to turn into the monster she saw coming.”

“Stop stewing in these thoughts, that doesn’t matter anymore. We’re expecting another bunch of monkeys in half an hour.”

But even as she said it, the words tasted wrong. It shouldn’t matter that he can still feel the warmth of your gaze, your unwavering belief in him, and yet it cuts deeper than any accusation ever could. Suguru shakes his head while straightening his shoulders, eyes locked onto Manami in front of him in order to force you off his mind.

“Doesn’t matter,” he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper, as though trying to convince himself.

“It’s too late for that now. So, where’s the monkeys?”

“Why did I know I’d find you here?”

His voice startles you, making you jump slightly. You turn to see none other than Satoru Gojo standing there, hands in his pockets, his white hair catching the fading sunlight. The sunglasses perched on his nose don’t quite hide the sharp edge in his expression he usually wears around you.

“Because I’m always here, I guess,” you reply softly, your tone as tired as the circles under your eyes appear.

“And I told you to stop a long time ago,” Satoru bites back, his voice bitter, cutting.

“The Suguru you knew… he’s gone.”

The weight of his words lands hard, though they’re not new. He’s said them before, with the same venom in his voice, every time you bring up Suguru or the past.

“I know. I’ve always known.”

“Then why do you keep punishing yourself? Dropping out of Jujutsu High when everyone needed you didn’t bring him back. Hiding out here doesn’t change anything, y’know?”

“It wasn’t about bringing him back, Satoru,” you snap, your voice sharper than you intend.

“It was about… letting him go. You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” he challenges, stepping closer.

“I’ve spent years watching people destroy themselves over things they can’t fix. I know the look in your eyes - you miss him. You always have. But you didn’t even try to stop him when he turned his back on us.”

You flinch, his words hitting a nerve.

“Because it wasn’t my place. I wasn’t like you, Gojo. I wasn’t his best friend. I wasn’t strong enough to drag him back kicking and screaming or to stand in his way. All I could do was… let him live the way he decided to. I thought… maybe if I stayed behind, if I didn’t follow him, he’d understand that I believed in him, that I trust him and his actions, the path he chooses. That I’d be here if he ever wanted to come back.”

Satoru’s shoulders tense, his jaw tightening. He never understood. Until this day, he never wrapped his head around the fact that you didn’t try to stop his best friend back then. You, who had more power over Suguru than himself.

God, how much he hates that disgusting truth until now.

“And look where that got you,” he mutters.

You look away, your hands gripping the edge of the bench for support.

“I never expected to see him again, Satoru. I didn’t think I’d matter enough to him for that.”

The silence between you stretches thin, brittle as glass.

“Do you think he hates me?” you ask, your voice barely audible.

“For staying behind? For not going after him?”

Gojo doesn’t answer, which is answer enough. You know he blames you, at least a little, for what happened. For not doing more. For leaving everything to him. For allowing Suguru to turn his back on Jujutsu High.

“Suguru hating you? Never. I bet he still thinks about you every damn day”, Satoru mutters under his breath before turning on his heels and leaving you standing in the rain.

Suguru, still thinking about you? You shake your head vehemently, not allowing that absurd thought into your brain. If he would miss you, he’d visit you, right? In all those years, he never lifted a finger in order to find you.

You were right there. In your small apartment, at jujutsu high.

Maybe he forgot about you after all.

“Me? Forgetting you? I’d never be able to do that, (y/n).”

Maybe some promises are meant to be broken.

-a few evenings later-

You’ve drank too much.

You always do when Shoko isn’t with you, when no one’s around to watch you. But even though you emptied a whole bottle of liqueur on your own, you still aren’t able to forget him. Fuck, his face is glued onto your mind like a second skin, never leaves you even though you drink enough to forget your own name.

Will it always feel like this? Will that ache ever go away?

“What are you thinking about, handsome?”

“Something I’ve lost some while ago”, you mumble, absently swirling your glittery cocktail around.

“That’s a bummer.”

You don’t even gift the random stranger next to you a look, the guy who smells like cheap cigarettes so vehemently that you feel like throwing up.

Maybe it’s time to call it a day.

“Yeah. Whatever.”

You spring back onto your feet, the alcohol vibrating through your veins. You were never much of a drinker back then, only shared a cigarette with Suguru from time to time. But this became your only way to numb the pain. At least for a few hours, at least for some time.

The cold air of the night hits your face like a wall. Even though it’s far past midnight, the city buzzes in street light, laughter and cries. And yet, all you’re able to think about is him again. His laugh, his voice, the way he used to look at you when he thought no one else was watching. Is it wrong to long for him? Is it disgusting that you couldn’t care less about the things he’s done those past years, about what he’d become?

You shake your head, trying to dispel the thoughts, but they cling to you, stubborn and relentless. Why can’t you just stop? Stop longing for something that will never happen, stop running after a person who is long gone? Suguru won’t come back, you won’t just meet him on a random street-

The click of footsteps catches your attention. Heavy, yet elegant footsteps across the still busy street.

At first, you think it’s just another stranger wandering through the city’s darkened streets. But something about the rhythm - steady, purposeful - sets your nerves on edge. Something about this feels familiar.

You glance up, your heart skipping a beat as your gaze meets a pair of familiar dark brown eyes.

Suguru Geto.

The world around you blurs, the sounds of the city fading into silence. It’s him, unmistakably him. His hair is longer than you remember, strands sticking to his face from what looks like rain, or maybe it’s sweat. Blood splatters ruin his clothes and the sharp line of his jaw, painting a stark, gruesome picture paired with those cold orbs. His expression is unreadable, but his eyes… they’re searching, watching your every move.

You should run, or scream, or yell at him – at least something that shows him what he put you through.

Anything.

He’s the same man who left you, who walked away from everything, from you. He, who didn’t even tell you about his true feelings, who didn’t care about the consequences of his actions, who didn’t even ask you to join. All those miserable nights you imagined him sitting next to you on that bench, the bottles of alcohol you’ve drank just to forget his name. He needs to pay for it, needs to know what he did to you by leaving you behind.

But instead, your feet move of their own accord, closing the distance between you in an instant.

Before he can react, you throw your arms around him so, pulling him into a tight embrace.

Suguru freezes, his body stiff against yours. He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, as if the sheer force of your presence has left him powerless. You bury your face against his chest, not caring about the blood, the grime, or the hurricane of questions swirling in your mind. All you care about is the fact that he’s here, alive, and solid beneath your touch. You can feel him – not only in your dreams, but for real.

Suguru is here.

He’s alive.

He’s right between your arms.

The scent of him - familiar, though tinged with something darker - fills your senses, dragging you back into a world you thought you’d never touch again. Tears sting your eyes, but you bite them back, unwilling to let them fall.

“Suguru,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

Finally, he moves. His arms lift hesitantly, then wrap around you with a force that knocks the air out of your lungs. He holds you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear any given minute, his grip firm and desperate. His head dips slightly, and for a moment, you think you feel him trembling too.

“What are you doing?”

His voice is rough, low, almost broken.

“I don’t know,” you admit, your voice muffled against his chest.

“I just… I missed you.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his dark eyes scanning your face as if trying to memorize every detail.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he mutters, his tone a mixture of regret and warning.

“Neither should you,” you counter, your gaze unwavering.

Suguru’s lips twitch, almost forming a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He lifts a hand, his fingers brushing against your cheek as though testing if you’re real.

“You should hate me.”

“Maybe I should,” you reply, your voice steady despite the storm raging inside you.

God, you’re so furious at him. Mad because he ran away, mad because he left you standing in the rain.

Mad because this is actually the first time Suguru Geto hugged you.

“But I don’t. I guess I could never hate you.”

His expression falters, the mask he’s worn for so long cracking just enough to reveal the man beneath. The one you knew, the one you loved in a way you never fully understood. And for the first time since leaving everything behind, he feels that small ray of sunshine taking in his heart again.

“You don’t know what I’ve done, what I’ve become. I was so sure you’ll hate me like everyone else.”

“I know enough. And I don’t care. You’re still Suguru Geto, aren’t you?”

He exhales sharply, the sound almost like a laugh, though there’s no humor in it. You, not caring about the fact that he ended countless lives out of his own fulfilment? You, a jujutsu sorcerer who always protected those monkeys?

“You’re too good for this,” he bites back, shaking his head.

“Too good for me.”

“Don’t decide that for me,” you snap, surprising even yourself with your suddenly so sharp tone.

“You don’t get to make that choice. You already did when you left without saying goodbye”

The silence between you stretches, heavy with unspoken words. You’re right and he knows it. But… Was it really a possibility to take you with him back then? Was there a tiny chance that you…would have joined him?

Slowly, he leans his forehead against yours, his eyes closing as though seeking comfort in your presence. No, he doesn’t want to think this through. Not right now. Not when he feels your heart pound against his body, not when you’re this close to him for the very first time.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” he admits, his voice barely a whisper.

“I told myself it was better that way.”

“And yet you’re here,” you point out softly.

“And yet I’m here,” he echoes, his lips curving into a faint, bitter smile.

For a moment, it’s just the two of you. No blood, no curses, no jujutsu, no past or future. Just the weight of the present, fragile and fleeting. And for now, that’s enough.

For now, simply holding the man you thought you’ve lost forever on a random street is more than enough to make you feel whole again.

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[auroras-zenith]

what doesn't kill you // part 4

you had your whole life planned out for you; start an agency with your best friend, scale the charts and make japan your bitch. but when a tragic accident leaves you incapacitated and out of a job, you find you just need to start fresh. you cut ties–and for two years, you've all but disappeared. until they need you again and come knocking at your door.

bakugo x retiredpro!reader

prologue ✧ previous ✧ next

You'd be lying if you said that at least part of the motivation for coming tonight wasn't to see him. Or rather, for him to see you.

"It was totally badass though! You were like, 'No I won't leave till I'm done!' even though the building was collapsing and stuff!" Chargebolt complimented, quite enthusiastically.

Jirou looked unimpressed. "You make it sound dorky."

You had to agree. "It wasn't like that." You argued amusedly, lips twisted into a grin. "It was way cooler."

You had contacted Jirou after that day that she had visited you, deciding that you had gone far too long without her in your life. It was weird, finally getting to know somebody who you had gone to high school with, but it was nice nonetheless.

She was dating Chargebolt, you'd learned, the quirky but endearing individual who had secured his spot as ninth on the Japanese hero charts.

Tonight was a new experience for you. Everyone else standing as you socialized with Japan's top heroes, it was odd being the only one sitting. In a wheelchair no less.

Insecure wouldn't be the right word to describe it. You were practically Bakugo's female counterpart. You didn't get insecure; but you couldn't deny that you did feel rather out of your depth.

"Hey look! it's Kiri!"

You turned to where Chargebolt was pointing–feeling your back straighten instinctually as your eyes locked onto an ash blonde man dressed in a nicely pressed suit stood beside him.

Bakugo choked as he saw you–but Kirishima was headed towards where you stood before he could come up with an excuse not to follow. His grip on the champagne glass in his hand tightened.

"Hey Denki! Jirou, L/n." Kirishima greeted with a toothy as they reached your group–Bakugo quietly standing by his side, his eyes trained firmly on his shoes.

"How are you doing, L/n? You look amazing." The red haired giant greeted kindly.

His knuckles were going white as he stared holes into the floor. He had bought you those shoes, he noted. The day that the two of you opened your agency.

God, how could this be happening?

He couldn't look up–couldn't bear to see you like this. Crippled.

It felt disrespectful to the memory of you he held so highly in his mind. His partner on the battlefield. Someone he trusted with his life.

So he kept his neck bent and his mouth shut, feeling ready to fall apart at the slightest inconvenience.

"-t children, Katsuki?"

"What?" He asked, only catching the last half of your sentence as he tuned back into the conversation. He felt his chest squeeze oddly at the sound of your voice.

"I asked if you were still screaming at children." You repeated, cocky grin slightly tense as you tried to fall back into the same familiar rhythm of teasing and bantering that you normally had with him.

No matter how much you denied it, part of you was on the edge of your seat, yearning for his approval.

But how could he give it to you while he was so focused on the floor?

"Oh. Uh, no." He said gruffly, eyes unwavering. He didn't so much as crack a smile. "I've- uh- I've got to go. I think I hear Pinky calling." He mumbled, hand in his pocket and head bowed as he quickly left.

Your smile faltered slightly–and suddenly everything you had thought about 'not feeling insecure' flew out the window as you shrunk back into your chair.

What were you doing here? In a room full of Japan's top or soon to be top heroes?

They had been your classmates at one point, but it was different now.

One wrong move and now you sat, crippled in a wheelchair as they all strived to reach the common goal you all shared.

The goal you would no longer be able to achieve.

You stared at your lap as the cogs in your mind turned furiously

"L/n?" Jirou called, not appreciating the way your shoulders curled inward. "You alright?"

You nodded slowly. It was an uncomfortable feeling, the one that haunted you now. Not sad. You had long believed there was no point in being sad. Rather... resigned.

Defeated.

You had fought a battle, and you had lost. Now you had to live with the consequences.

Like the partner you had known since your first year of high school unable to even look you in the eye.

"I think I'm going to head out early." You finally mumbled, shaking your head to try and clear your thoughts as you looked around for your things.

"They haven't even announced the awards yet," She frowned. "You don't want to stay?"

No. You really didn't. "Just text me an update? Of who gets what." You couldn't care less, but it seemed like the right thing to say.

You were headed for the door the second she agreed, mumbling quick goodbyes to everyone who stopped you on your way out.

The sterile smell of the hospital only spurred your movements faster as you rolled through the automatic entrance. Bags that had been so kindly brought to you by your friends for your stay dumped haphazardly by your room door, medication wildly thrown into your pockets; you grabbed your things, heaving them into your lap as you made once more for the hospital lobby.

You just needed to start anew.

Red lights foretold an ominous warning as you waited silently in the back of your uber, headed home. Tonight would be spent packing what you needed, you had decided.

Tomorrow, you would be gone.

a/n: wouldn't you like to know weather boy

taglist: @floverisland @biancatomlinson @rosaryia @highlandhyena @sarashu @rednicotine @emmaiscool22 @your-mum3000 @whoreforfictionalmen18 @sikuthealien @thefirst-ofus @harryzcherry

permanent tags: @phtmmsqrde @pikachuzhc @stabbygabyy @frosted-flakes

[sharkgirldick]

hey Vee, how did you come to figure out that you were a transfem butch? i've been thinking about my relationship to my transfemininity and masculinity and exploring the possibility in my head that i might also be butch, but it's an idea that to a certain extent, frightens the part of me that once would have completely banished the idea that i might in any way want to embrace masculinity

if you have any insight into how to like, square that circle, or at least, how you came to the conclusion that you were/wanted to be a transfem butch yourself, i would genuinely appreciate it, but if it this is a too personal question no worries

I've had this sitting in my inbox for a couple of days, and I've been having it marinate in my head for a while.

This got kinda long, so full thing under the cut.

When I first came out, I wanted to be very feminine. My first rush of gender euphoria came from shaving my legs. It was also incredible to hear my (then) cis girlfriend tell me that they were jealous of how nice my legs looked. I bought dresses and skirts and crop tops. I wanted to pass, and was really thinking over what I would need to do to achieve that goal. If you scroll back far enough in my selfie tag, you can even find where I was mostly dressing femme.

If you'll forgive me for backing up a little... One of the things that caused me to come out was that I realized I didn't vibe with being a man. It didn't suit me, and I knew something needed to change. Maybe, under a slightly different set of circumstances, I would have been nonbinary. Anything, anything, except being a man.

With that in mind, as I continued on into my transition, I realized more and more how much I identified with butchness, and how dissatisfied I was with how I was presenting. I felt gross in the clothes I wore, and I didn't like how I looked in the mirror. Plenty of that was dysphoria, yes, but I could tell that wasn't all of it. I'm so much more satisfied now seeing myself in more generally masculine outfits.

I kinda did resist it, though. I thought, as a trans woman, it would make me less of a woman to be butch. Which, of course, isn't how that works.

Eventually, in exploring what being butch meant for me, I realized that it wasn't masculinity that I had an issue with, just with being a man. That isn't to say that I (or all other butches, for that matter) dislike being more feminine at times, but being a masculine woman just feels right. It feels like me. That's why I've stuck with the label for more than two years now, and plan to stick with it in the future.

I feel like I more rambled than anything, but I hope this helps, anon.

[kittomykat]

Probably not gonna finish this, so have at it.

🔞🔞Sub Vik/Dom Reader || No reader anatomy discussed, Vik steals your undies lol

Vik steals your underwear, shaky hands reach down to palm his growing erection. Coaxing it to life as he doesn't know how much time he has in this moment. You might be there any second. He thinks about what you might do if you catch him there, fist full of your underwear and canting his hips back and forth. He considers your disgusted face, brows furrowed and stiff lips, and somehow that excites him. He then considers if you'd like to play along. If you'd sink to the floor on your knees and swallow him whole. Or better yet, force him on his knees and you can show him something even better than just your used underwear.

He's fully hard now and he spreads his legs open in the chair he's laid over, hurriedly unfastening his pants. He lets out a heavy sigh as he runs his fingers over his dick, he wishes he could taste you. His tongue slips out for just a moment, wets his lips, and touches the fabric gently. He imagines what it's like with you, would you run your fingers gently through his hair? Would you grab him roughly and ride his face? He grows lightheaded at the thought, and his wrist slowly services himself. The door clicks open.

Your voice is soft, eyes searching the room as he lays on the chair perfectly still. Your eyes find his and you gasp, shock washing over you and boiling into interest. He doesn't need to know that, though. Your expression falls, and you enter the room fully, not breaking eye contact and closing the door behind you. He inhales, fingers still around his dick, and waits.

So do you. You stand and watch him, stiff lips and eyes unmoving. He suddenly feels a wave, a typhoon of shame reaching from his neck down to his toes. He starts to move, lowering the stolen underwear and opening his mouth.

You smile.

You love making him squirm, keeping up the facade of anger was so fun. You smile and walk towards him, arms crossed.

"I didn't think you were that much of a pervert."

The shame that washed over him returns, but this time it makes his dick twitch. Your eyes scan him, committing this scene to memory and you start to speak.

"Can you get on your knees?" Voice soft but firm. It's an agreement all the same as he slowly maneuvers himself from the chair down into the floor. In two steps, you close the distance, legs shoulder width apart, watching Viktor's trembling chin only inches from your sex. He looks down, the shame from before simmers in his gut and he lets go of his dick. His hands rub at his thighs, hoping you'll make a move soon.

Your soft hand traces his temple, to his cheek bone, and then to his chin. Slowly pressing it upwards to look at you, you smile.

"Having fun?" It was a genuine question, you'd never seen him act out like this before. He nods.

"Did you want me to catch you?" His eyes break away, thinking, considering what he should say and how he should say it. You can see the gears turning in his head, it's so charming.

"Vitya," his eyes snap back to yours, lips parted. "I asked you a question, my love."

"Yes. I wanted you to catch me. I wanted to see what you'd do."

Your head tilts as you think. Your eyes hold his in place, the soft amber which reflects all the love you give him and doubles it.

"So I've caught you, malen'kaya myshka. What shall I do with you now?"

He swallows.

________

Wrote this a few months ago and I never got the urge to write more, so here's a nice little daydream for you. ♥

[ganondoodle]

the company i work for decided that its switching from the german formal "You"(Sie) to the informal "you" (Du) in all of our websites so now we have to scour the entire database to change it and i quite frankly hate that, not just bc the unecessary extra work but especially bc its such a weird and unecessary change

i bet its bc everything here is getting englishfied (both literally and culturally it feels like, when my new boss talks its half in english bc every second german word is just replaced by an english one despite there being perfectly fine words for it in german too, its so annoying) and bc they want to sound more personal in hopes of getting more clients bc 'company is your fwiend uwu!!', i know this here is the amercian tm site so you wouldnt understand really but i do not want to be greeted with 'du' by companies, no, thats too personal, you dont know me and im not giving you my data, stay away!!

i guess thats how i would describe it .. the formal you is like a polite distance, like someone you dont know staying outside your personal space, but when its the informal 'you' it feels invasive unless i told you you can call me that, and that goes double for companies

maybe its a small thing that doesnt seem important but i cant stand it, im just a little part time worker doing data work so i got no say in it but the companies founder also announced hes giving his post to his kids some time ago so ...... since then theres been alot of changes and new projects that solely aim to imitate whats popular and whats done by other companies, despite ours being one that is, or used to be, intentionally different, like, that was the POINT, but i guess chasing trends is just too appealing for CEOs

[jacksprostate]

Treatise on why No, the doctor just giving the narrator of Fight Club (full name) his requested sleep medication or sending him to therapy would not have Fixed Him

Firstly, saying giving him the insomnia meds would’ve fixed him ignores the reason he has insomnia in the first place. He is so deeply upset by his place in society that he literally cannot sleep. Drugging him to sleep would not change that. That, of course, is the easy, quick response.

But with regard to therapy? The biggest flaw is that it ignores a central tenet of the book. Part of what tortures the narrator and drives him to invent Tyler is that his feelings about this collective, systemic issue are constantly reduced to a Just Him thing. His seatmates ask what his company is. He’s the only one upset at the office. He gets weird looks if he says the truth of what he does. People will do anything in their power to pretend he is the issue, as an individual, because it is far scarier to consider the full implications of the systemic issues implied by what he is saying. Everyone treats it as if the issue is him, so he goes insane. He does anything to get someone to say, holy shit, that’s fucked up, what you’re a part of is wrong. In an attempt to feel any sort of vague sympathy and catharsis, he goes to support groups to pretend to be dying, because then at least people don’t habitually blame him for his anguish. 

Saying therapy would fix him ignores that his problems are not individual. They are collective. It’s the reason the entire story resonates with people! Something deeply, unignorably wrong with society, where people would rather blame you for bringing it up than try and address it, because it feels impossible. I don’t blame people for this, really, because it IS scary. It’s terrifying to sit and feel like you’ve realized there’s something deeply, deeply wrong, but if you say something, people will get mad at you since it’s so baked into everything around you. Or, even if they agree, it’s easier to deal with the dissonance by pretending it’s individual.

And it’s not like that’s not the purpose therapy and medications largely serve, anyway. Getting into dangerous territory for this website, but ultimately, the reason the narrator was seeking medication was because it’s a bandaid. A very numbing bandaid. For these very large, dissonance causing problems, therapy does very little. Medications do what they always have, and distract you with numbness or side effects. It’s a false solution. He is seeking an individualized false solution because he has been browbeaten with the idea that this is an issue with him alone, when it's plainly clear it's not. 

Don't get me wrong. Obviously he has something wrong with him. But it's a product of his situation. It is a fictional exaggeration of a very real occurrence of mental illness provoked by deep unconscionable dissonance and anguish.  There is a clear correlation between what happens and his mental state and his job and how isolated he is. 

The thing is, even if he were chemically numbed, I do think he would’ve lost it regardless. Many people on meds find they don’t fix things. For reasons I’ll get into, but in this case because even if numbed or distracted, once you’ve learned about deep, far reaching corruption in society, it’s very hard to forget. Especially if, in his case, you literally serve as the acting hand of this particular variety. He’s crawling up the walls. 

So why do people say this?  Well, it's funny I guess. Maybe the first time or whatever. But also, often, they believe it, to a degree. Maybe they've just been told how effective therapy and meds are for mental illness, they believe wholeheartedly in The Disease Model of Mental Illness, maybe they themselves have engaged with either and have considered it successful. Maybe they or someone they know has been 'saved' by such treatments. 

But in all honesty.... What therapy can help with is mentality, it's how you approach problems. For issues on a smaller scale, not meaning they are easier to deal with my any degree, but ones that are not raw and direct from deep awareness of corruption; these are things that can be worked through if you get lucky and get an actually good therapist who helps build up your resiliency. But when your issue is concrete, something large and inescapable? It's useless. At best it can help you develop coping mechanisms, but there is a limit for that. There is a point where that fails. To develop the ability to handle something like this requires intense development of a comfort with ambiguity and dissonance and being isolated and a firm positioning of your purpose and values and and belief in wonder and all the other shit I ramble about. The things that the narrator lacks, which lead him to taking an ineffectual death knell anarchist self-destruction path. Therapy, where the narrator is, full of the knowledge of braces melted to seats and all the people that have to allow this to happen? It fails. 

And meds — meds are a fucking scam. We know the working mechanism of basically none of them, the serotonin receptor model was made up and paid its way into prominence. We have very little evidence they're any better than placebo, and they come with genuinely horrific side effects. Maybe you got lucky. I did, on some meds. On others? I don't remember 2018. The pharmaceutical industry is also known for rampant medical ghostwriting, and for creating 'off-label' uses for drugs that have gained too many protests in their original use, then creating a cult of use to then have 'grassroots' campaigns for it to be made a label use (ie, legitimize their ghostwritten articles with guided anecdotes). 

The DSM itself is basically a marketing segregation plot. It's an attempt to legitimize the disease model by isolating subgroups of symptoms to propose individualized treatments for subgroups that are not necessarily all that separate. But if the groups exist, you can prescribe more and different medications, no? Not to mention, if you use the disease model, you can propose that these diseases are permanent, or permanent until treated, considered more and more severe to offset and justify the horrific side effects of the medications. Do you know why male birth control doesn't really exist? Same reason. They can justify all the horrible side effects for women, because the other option is pregnancy. For men, it's nothing. 

And they're not bothering to invent new drugs without side effects. When they invent new drugs it's just because the last one got too bad of a name, or they can enter a new market. Modern drugs don't work any better than gen1 drugs. They still have horrific side effects. At best, the industry will shit out studies saying the old one was flawed (truth) so they can say this new gen will be better (lie). They're doing it with ssris right now. 

Fundamentally, the single proposed benefit of any of these drugs is that they numb you. To whatever is torturing you. It's harder to be depressed if you can't feel it, or if you just can't muster the same outrage. Of course, there is people who find that numbness to be helpful, or worth it. But often, it's stasis. For the people who have problems that can be worked on, it serves as a stopgap to not actually work on said problems. The natural outcome of the disease model is stagnation for those whose need is to develop skills and resiliency. It keeps them medicalized and dependent on the idea that they're diseased and incapable. Profitable. Stuck in the womb. 

I’ve been there. It’s easier, to wallow, and resist growth because it’s difficult and painful and unfair and cruel and you can think of five billion reasons to justify your languishing. But don’t listen to anyone who tells you you’re just permanently damaged, no matter how nicely they word it, no identity or novel pathologization, no matter how many benefits they promise, especially if they swear up and down some lovely expensive medications with little solid backing and plentiful off-label usage and side effects that’ll kill you. Some days it feels like they want us all stuck in pods, agoraphobic and addicted to the ads they feed us to isolate the markets for the drugs they’ve trained us to beg them to pump us with. Polarization making it as easy as flashing blue light for go, red like for stop, or vice versa. I worry about the kids, for fucks sake. That’s a bit dark and intense, and I apologize. But I want you (generic) to understand, there is a profit motive. Behind everything. And they do not mean well. They do not care about your mental health or your rights or your personhood or your growth. They care about how they can profit off of you.

For those struggling with immovable, society problems, like the narrator grappling with how his job fits into and is accepted by society while his rejection and horror in the face of it does not, it can work about as well as any other drug addiction. Your mileage may vary. From what I've seen, recovering from being on prozac for a long time can be worse than alcohol. They put kids on this shit. They keep campaigning for more. Off label, again. A pharmaceutical company’s favorite thing to do has to be to spread rumors of someone who knows someone who said an off label use of this drug helps with this little understood condition. Or, in the case of mental illness, questionably defined condition. And like, damn, I know I'm posting on the 'medicalization is my identity' website so no one will like all this and has probably stopped reading by now, but yall should be exposed to at least one person who doubts this stuff. Doesn't just trust it. Because I mean, that's the thing right?

It's so big. What would it mean, for this all to be true? Yeah, everyone says pharmaceutical companies are evil and predatory and ghostwriting, but to think about what that really entails. Coming back to the book, everyone knows the car lobby is huge and puts dangerous vehicles through that kill people. What does it mean if the car companies all hire people to calculate the cost of a recall and the cost of lawsuits? No one wants to think about the scale that means for people allowing it or the systems that have to be geared towards money, not safety like they say. Hell, even Chuck misses the beat and has the narrator threaten his boss with the Department of Transportation. And shit, man, if every company is doing this, you think Transportation doesn't know? That they give a fuck? You're better off mailing all the evidence to the news outlets and hoping they only character assassinate you a little bit as they release the news in a way that says it's all the fault of little workers like you, not the whole system. Something something, David McBride, any whistleblower you feel like, etc. 

So I don't blame you, if your reaction is "but but but, that can't be right, people wouldn't do it, they wouldn't allow it" or just an overwhelming feeling of dread that pushes you to deny all of this and avoid thinking about it. Just know, that's in the book. That's all the seatmates on the flights. That's all his fellow officemates. It's easier to pretend, I know.

But think about, how the response fits in with the themes of the book. The story, as a movie too. What drives the narrator’s mental breakdown? How would you handle being in his position? How would you handle being his seatmate? It’s easy to say you’d listen. But have you? Have you had any soul wrenching betrayals of how you thought society worked? How about a betrayal by the thing that promised to be the fix of the first? Can you honestly say you wouldn’t follow that gut instinct, saying follow what everyone says, that person must just be crazy, evil, rude, cruel, whatever it is that means you can set what they said aside?

For a lot of people, they can do that, I guess. Set it aside. Reaching that aforementioned state of managing to cope with the dissonance and ambiguity and despair is very hard. The narrator made the Big Realization, but he couldn’t cope. He self-destructed. Even when people don’t make the big realization consciously, they’re already self-destructing. It’s hard to escape it when it feels easier than continuing anyway. When it feels like the only option,

Would therapy fix the narrator of Fight Club? Would meds fix the narrator of Fight Club? No. He knows too much. All meds will do, by the time he’s in the psych ward, is spiritually neuter him. A silly phrase, but really. Take the wind out of his sails. 

Is he fixed if he doesn’t try to blow up town? If he just shuts up and settles in and stops costing money? If he still can’t cope with the things he’s unearthed? Do you see how this is a commentary in a commentary in a commentary?

Fight Club is an absolutely fascinating story because of this. The fact that it addresses the fallout of knowing. The isolation. The hopelessness. The spiral that results from a lack of hope. This is, I think, what resonates most with people, even if not consciously. Going insane because you’ve discovered something you wish you could unknow. It’s a classic horror story. Should our society be lovecraftian evil? I don’t think so. 

Do I think changing it will be easy? No. Lord knows a lot exists to push people who make these sorts of Realizations towards feelings of individuality and individualized solutions and denial and other distractions and coping methods. And to prevent people who make One realization from expanding on it and considering further ramifications. Fight Club itself gets into this; the isolation of men being a strict part of the role society shapes for their sex leaves them very vulnerable to death fetishes, in a sense, and generally towards self destructive violence. It helps funnel them away from substantial change and towards ineffectual change. Many things, misogyny, racism, serve to keep people isolated from one another, individualized, angry, and impossible to work with. Market segregation; god knows even appealing on those fronts has become such a classic ploy that companies do it now, the US military frames its plundering that way, etc. 

I’ve wandered a bit but ultimately, my point is this: Fight Club is a love letter to the horrors of critical thinking, and the importance of not falling into the trap of self destruction and hopelessness in the face of it. The latter is why Tyler was an anarchoterrorist instead of anything useful. The latter is why it was a death cult. It’s important to work through the horrors of critical thinking so you can do it, and stand on the other side ready to believe in each other. It’s worth it.

[tumblweeds-omegaverse]

random omegaverse thought:

There must be people who experience specific instinct things with indifference or boredom.

Procreative cycle coming up? "Crap, I've got plans this weekend...stupid skip weeks."

Caught an intriguing scent while walking? "But I need to get to work! Shut up brain."

Had a snap response to a distressed sound? "Who was it?! ...right, it's my day off, I can go back to sleep."

Somebody growled at them? "Kid, I'm not a rival, that's my sibling."

Super cozy cuddle session happening nearby? "I'm gonna pass tonight guys, no social battery left, maybe next time."

Group of friends heading out to flirt and check out other singles? "I'm coming with you but only to make sure you all get home safe."

Setting where fated mates or soul bonds or permanent marks are a thing? "Meh. I don't really want one or care if I ever get one."

People in the actual omegaverse would get as bored of their stuff, as we do of ours, you know? It could be interesting to see that kind of vibe in fics. Biological demands faced with all the excitement of paying bills or doing laundry or tying your shoes.

Even if that kind of energy might not drive a plot, it could be interesting to have as a contrast to the people who do have big feelings about them - good or bad.

There's the friends who can't wait til they have a pack of their own, and the one friend who isn't against it but couldn't care less. There's the group in the office who are all about scent compatibility tests and figuring out one's best match and what sprays most highlight it, and the coworker who has no intentions on putting that much effort in. There are parents who hover and protect their offspring by scenting them multiple times a day, and others who don't see what the fuss is as long as it's done in the morning.

...also: packs with introverts who show care by giving each other space. So often, closeness is depicted through physical touch and tactile affection, but comfortable silence is meaningful too. Knowing people are near, but not having to interact until you're ready. Sitting in the same room doing different things, knowing that all it takes is a "hey, look at this" to share what you're up to. People understanding and accepting each other's differing or fluctuating needs for how and when to recharge. Seeing somebody reaching out or sharing space, beyond what's their norm, as a signal of the fact that they care.