#i hate how i look and no matter what i do it doesn't change

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

"You're gonna go far"

okay yall this is chapter one! if it sucks or doesn't make sense pls don't hate. might take it down later if i decide i hate it. likes, comments, and reblogs encourage me!!!I brainstormed this pretty fast so it might be messy.

lmk if there's any plot holes! This is the week following the failed patrol and Tiffany taking reader's credit. About 6 to 7 months after Tiffany moved in.

The first day after the incident, you had stayed in your room, nursing the bitter sting of betrayal. You couldn’t even remember the last time they’d acknowledged your existence. Tiffany, of course, was the shining star of the household. While you were holed up in your bedroom, processing the snakebite that had changed everything, Tiffany was out there, winning their favor with her charm, her sweet smiles, and her sugar-coated lies. You spent all night aching and feeling your bones shattering in your skin, feeling your skin peel off, and your teeth sharpen and make your mouth bleed.

The day started with her knocking on your door, her voice dripping with fake concern.

“Hey, are you okay?” she asked, stepping inside without waiting for permission. “I heard what happened last night... but don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll be fine. Just walk it off, right? Just a snake bite! You weren't even supposed to be on patrol, Dad said that you can't be part of the team. You're not skilled enough.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. How could you? It wasn’t a matter of walking it off. The venom inside you had begun to manifest, the snake-like power curling through your veins, but Tiffany's words twisted the knife further. You could see the smug look in her eyes as she added, “It’s okay. I’m here now. I know you’re upset, but let’s just move past it. You need some tough love”

You didn’t know what to expect when the transformation took hold that night. One minute, you were trying to cry yourself to sleep the next—your skin tingled, muscles shifting, twisting beneath the surface. The bite on your neck from the damn snake burned like fire, but something deeper, something inside you, urged you to embrace it. Again you felt your mouth burn, your body tingle, your skin shed and a searing pain from the waist down.

As you lay flat against the wall, your hands pressed against the cool surface you couldn’t help but grin, pain was better than numbness. You weren’t just Bruce Wayne's outcast daughter, nor were you the wannabe batgirl, as Stephanie liked to call you, you were something else now, something powerful.

The first time you ejected venom from your fingertips, you almost dropped your phone in surprise. It was cold, sharp, and terrifying in its power. It didn’t make sense. You could feel the agility coursing through you, every muscle in your body aligning with the new capabilities as if your very bones were made for this transformation. This wasn’t you anymore.

The idea of getting even, of showing them all that you weren’t weak or invisible, had always been a fantasy. But now, it didn’t feel like a fantasy. It felt real, solid in a way that left you trembling. You weren’t just going to prove them wrong. You were going to become something they could never ignore again. And they would never see it coming.

But what now? The Batfamily—Bruce, Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, all of them—had given you nothing but pain and neglect for years. They didn’t understand you, didn’t care to. They couldn’t see past their perfect image of family long enough to see you. Now, with this power, you didn’t need them. You never did.

Except… there was Tiffany.

She was their new perfect darling, their shining star. Every time she took a step into their world, they’d fawn over her, ruffle her hair, praise her as though she could do no wrong. You had tried to be perfect for them, but perfection never got you what you wanted. It never got you love. It never got you acceptance.

She was a liar, a fraud, and she’d ruined your life. You'd tried to warn them, tried to tell them what she really was—what she was doing behind their backs. But they chose to believe her over you. They always did.

So it was time for them to learn. To know what you were capable of.

You wouldn’t hurt them but you would make them understand. You would show them your worth, show them what they had turned their backs on. No more hiding. No more being invisible. You’d be the storm they couldn’t control, the one they couldn’t ignore.

One by one, you would take back everything that was stolen from you.

The next day Bruce didn’t even acknowledge you when he passed you in the hallway. You wanted to tell him about the snake, about the strange scary things going on in your body, of the violent thoughts running through your mind but the words died in your throat in fear of ridicule. You stood there, heart racing, desperately hoping he’d say something, anything, just a hint of recognition. But he didn’t. Tiffany was at his side, her arm linked through his as they strolled past you. She was chattering on about some trivial matter, and you could feel the coldness in Bruce's demeanor. No eye contact. No words. Nothing.

It was as if you weren’t there. It hurt, more than you could have imagined. And yet it wasn't anything new.

Alfred, the one person who might’ve shown you compassion, didn’t even make you breakfast. You waited in the kitchen, hoping for something—anything. But no, Tiffany had already filled the void with her charming demeanor, sitting at the table with Alfred, chatting about some charity event.

You stood there, waiting. Watching. Silent.

Eventually, you turned and left. Alfred hadn't even looked up when you walked out.

Damian.

Your little brother who you tried so hard to bond withhad taken to sneering at you when you crossed paths with more anomosity than usual. His usual arrogance and distaste for you had only intensified. You had caught him once, whispering something to Tiffany about how "pathetic" you were. “Father’s blood runs through me, not through you,” he had muttered under his breath. You had to fight the overwhelming urge to break down right then and there. The venom inside you seemed to thrum in response, as if it recognized the cruel words, feeding off them.

Later, you overheard him tell Tiffany, “You’re far more worthy of being in this family than she’ll ever be.”

Jason, who you once thought of as a brother, the only one who could’ve understood you, had turned his back completely. You had tried to reach out to him and tell him of the pains at night, to apologize for whatever wrongs you’d committed, but all he did was glare at you. A snide comment about how “you wouldn’t know what it means to feel pain” and then he walked away, his back to you as he followed Tiffany down the stairs.

Your heart shattered.

Tim was... absent, but his absence was worse than anything. He made no effort to reach out, barely acknowledging you when you passed by. When you tried to speak with him, to ask how his day had gone, he merely gave you a dismissive shrug and muttered something about needing to “work.” Tiffany, on the other hand, always had time for him. She seemed to be everything you were not—everything they wanted. She was their perfect daughter, their perfect sibling. She was the one who belonged.

You tried to slip into the shadows, but the truth was, you felt like you were already invisible.

You and Duke used to be friends when he first came, till he realized Stephanie was much cooler than you. Maybe you could hang with them in the cave, maybe they could help figure out what was happening to you. Maybe even talk to Barbra and Cassandra!

The Batcave was eerily quiet when you worked up the nerve to enter. You were sitting at a workstation, trying to work up the courage to talk to any of your siblings but your thoughts kept drifting. Tiffany had completely woven herself into the fabric of the team, and everyone else, even Duke, seemed content to ignore you.

You and Duke had once been close. He’d been one of the few people who had ever tried to make you feel like you belonged in the manor. You remembered the late-night conversations, sharing stories and laughter, plotting out plans for how you could prove your worth to the family. But now, every time you glanced in his direction, there was nothing but distance and confusion.

you could feel his presence across the room. He and Tiffany were standing by one of the equipment stations, speaking in hushed tones. You tried to ignore them. It hurt too much to look at Duke, to see how easily he had fallen under Tiffany's spell, how effortless it was for him to ignore you now.

Tiffany was front and center, as usual. Her presence always seemed to command attention, like a star that everyone gravitated toward. You had grown used to the way they all fawned over her, but it didn’t make it any easier to watch.

“Duke, you’re up next,” Tiffany called out, a smile playing at her lips. Her voice was sweet, but you could hear the subtle edge beneath it. A tone that made your blood boil. She wasn’t just charming them, she was playing them.

“You know, I’d never say no to a challenge, Tiff.” he said, his voice almost affectionate.

“You’re the best, Duke,” Tiffany purred, clearly pleased.

You glanced at Barbara, hoping for something—a glance, a small acknowledgment—but her eyes were glued to her computer screen. She might as well have been miles away.

Cassandra, as usual, was focused on her training. She hadn’t ever shown interest in you, and today was no different. Her sharp gaze didn’t waver from the sparring targets she was working through, ignoring you entirely.

You sighed, not wanting to add to the already uncomfortable tension in the air. The weight of it was overwhelming. But you couldn’t help but overhear the rest of Duke and Tiffany’s conversation.

“I’m telling you, Duke,” Tiffany was saying with a laugh, “you’ve got this in the bag. You’ve been training for years, they’re never going to see it coming.”

Duke chuckled, clearly reveling in her praise. “Yeah, but I’m still not sure I trust the plan,” he said, glancing at the others. “You really think it’ll work?”

Tiffany’s smile was cold and calculating. “Trust me, it will. I’ve been working on it for weeks, and with your skills, we’ll have it done in no time. Just follow my lead.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from speaking up, even if you weren’t sure why you were still trying. You knew they didn’t care, but some part of you still clung to hope that maybe, just maybe, they’d listen. You and Duke were friends, he wouldn't ignore you. You didn't want Tiffany to pressure him into a plan he wasn't sure of.

“Tiffany, why don’t you give Duke some space?” you asked, trying to sound casual. “He might want to work out his own plan, you know?”

The moment the words left your mouth, Duke’s expression darkened, and so did everyone else's. Even Barbra glanced at you.

“Oh, you’re still here?” Tiffany asked, her tone laced with mock sweetness. “I didn’t realize you had any input. I guess it’s cute that you think Duke needs your help.”

Duke’s eyes narrowed. “I’m good, [Y/N]. Really. Tiffany’s got this. Don’t you have some... other place to be?”

Your mouth burned and your bones ached, since when did Duke treat you like this? What right did he have? You were friends, friends aren't mean to friends.

Your fists clench, "Excuse me? What's that supposed to mean?" You spit out, unusually angry and brave.

His eyes softened for a second but then Duke looked up at you, his gaze colder than you remembered. “It’s not personal, okay? It’s just… you don’t really fit in with the rest of us."

The words felt like a slap in the face. Tiffany was the one with the skills. Tiffany was the one who was flawless. Tiffany was the one who didn’t need to try. Tiffany fit in.

You wanted to scream, to demand an explanation for why you were being discarded like this. You tried, but the words caught in your throat, leaving you silent. Duke wasn’t the person you had once leaned on. He wasn't your friend anymore. you could feel the deep divide between you both now, a gap named betrayal.

Before you could respond, Stephanie, who had been standing off to the side, stepped forward. “Come on, (Y/N), don’t waste our time. If you don’t have anything useful to add, just leave. You’ll be better off on your own.”

Your eyes snapped to her. Of all people, you didn’t expect Stephanie to be so blunt. But here she was, her arms crossed and her eyes not even looking in your direction as she spoke.

Tiffany shot Stephanie a glance of approval. “Exactly, Steph. They’ll just slow us down. Maybe you should go back to the kitchen and bake something.”

The words were meant to belittle you, to remind you of the one thing they knew you were good at, baking, and nothing more. You felt your fists clench, the sting of her words cutting deeper than you wanted to admit.

Duke’s eyes lingered on you for a moment, but he didn’t say anything. His silence spoke volumes. You could feel the finality of it, the way the space between you both had grown too big to bridge.

“You don’t have to listen to them,” Tiffany continued, her voice smooth, "You’re not part of the team. Just let it go. It’s better for everyone.”

Tiffany’s manipulation was sickening. But what hurt the most was that Duke was going along with it. He had always been the one person who had made you feel like you mattered in this cold, detached family. And now? He was treating you like you were nothing. He had chosen her over you. The reality of it hit you like a t train.

“Fine,” you muttered, swallowing the lump in your throat, ignoring the burning of your eyes and the hole in your chest.

Without another word, you turned on your heel and walked out of the Batcave, the cold stares of Tiffany, Duke, Stephanie and Cassandra burning into your back. no matter how hard you had tried, how many times you had bent over backwards to prove your worth, it would never be enough for them.

The final blow came that night on the 7th night after the incident and the day after Duke's betrayal.

Tiffany had won. You could see it in her eyes, hear it in her voice. She won their trust, their love. Now, she was going to make sure you were out of the picture for good.

You overheard Bruce and Tiffany speaking in his study, a room you were never allowed to enter.

“I think it’s for the best,” Tiffany said, her voice sweet, almost too sweet. “She’s so... incompetent. Maybe a change of scenery will help her grow.”

“Maybe,” Bruce replied, his voice cold, indifferent. “But it’ll also keep her away from Gotham for a while. From the family.”

“It’ll be better for everyone,” Tiffany continued. “She’s been so distant lately, and honestly, I don’t think she fits in here. She doesn’t belong.”

“I’ll have Alfred make the arrangements tomorrow,” Bruce said, his tone final. “It’ll be good for her. A change of pace. A chance to learn discipline.”

And just like that, your life as you knew it ended.

You would be sent away to a boarding school in New York City. They didn’t even give you the courtesy of telling you themselves. Tiffany had already manipulated the situation, convinced them that it was for the best. That you didn’t belong. That you needed to be removed from the family.

Later That Night

You sat in your room, fists clenched, eyes burning with tears you refused to shed. You could hear Tiffany’s laughter echoing in the halls as she paraded through the manor, a crown on her head that wasn’t hers.

You weren’t going to cry. Not anymore. You weren’t going to beg for their attention. For their love. No. You had something far more dangerous now. Something that didn’t need them. Something that would show them all just how wrong they were. The venom in your veins burned brighter now. You could feel it coiling around your bones like a living, breathing thing. You would prove them all wrong. You would go to New York and never look back.

Ok I tried my best guys be nice! I just had so many ideas and didn't know how to execute them! Send in asks! I wanted to get the plot moving tbh

[littlemissmanga]

I'll keep saying this until I'm blue in the face ...

IT DOES NOT MATTER WHAT HE INTENDED

It looks like a Nazi salute. And Nazis were watching.

Politicians and celebrities who have been on TV and interviewed ad nauseum (ahem Elon) DO NOT make this gesture BECAUSE HOW EASY IT CAN BE MISINTERPRETED.

The same way Japan re-made Tokyo area maps to change the very appropriate Buddist symbol into something else to denote Buddist temples around the 2020 Olympics. Because even though it isn't a Nazi swastika, it was close enough that Japanese officials didn't want even the possibility for misinterpretation.

As someone who is now in government, he has a responsibility to AVOID APPEARING SYMPATHETIC TO NAZIS.

And at that, he failed miraculously.

Because, and this is the part we're not talking about enough, any Nazi sympathizer watching saw someone in power talking to them. Regardless of what Elon intended.

Knowing that, did he apologize for his mistake? No, he tried to convice us what we saw isn't what happened. And then he made a tweet using top Nazi officials' names as puns to taunt those calling him out.

If people told my neurodivergent ass that something I did looked like a hate gesture, my first reaction would not be to taunt them.

And I don't want to hear "he's autistic, he doesn't know better." That's ableism. It's a blanket excuse that says autistic people can never possibly understand really big, important social shorthead.

You are saying that this man, who we all are supposed to believe is smart enough and social enough to take on a major position in government - which requires you to be able to work with others -- has never been told that the Nazi salute is bad and not to do it. And that he also couldn't possibly understand that for himself after learning about WWII.

The logical dissonance is unreal guys.

It's also horribly infantilizing to say that because he has autism, he cannot be held accountable for his actions. And even worse to apply that thinking to a man in power.

[damnfandomproblems]

Fandom Problem #7260:

I hate how people get so upset when authors remove their fics rather than orphaning them and acting like the author was soooo selfish and that orphaning is the only right and justice choice for them to make, especially when the fic in question had a handful or even no comments.

Like, people share their fics for community and connection. I share my fics for community and connection. I will always write for myself, but I share them for the human connection. If there's no connection? Well, I'm not going to share then, and I sure as hell am not going to orphan because that's MY fic, MY hard work, why would I want to remove myself from it, to not be able to show it to others and say "hey look at this thing I made, what do you think?" just because a stranger who doesn't even have the guts to tell me they like it, likes it? And there's no such thing as an individual, so many other fic authors likely do/think the same.

"Oh, but you aren't entitled to comments!" You're right, but you also aren't entitled to millions of stories at the wonderful cost of $0.00 either. It isn't selfish for people to choose to not comment, but it also isn't selfish for authors to delete and/or abandon their fics when they get no comments.

"But what if that fic helped someone through a hard time? Saved their life?" Should've told the author that, can't blame the author for prioritizing their own mental health when they weren't even aware they were carrying the burden of a stranger's mental health too.

Writing is already so hard even if you're doing it for yourself. Sharing it is terrifying. Letting people, strangers even, know the things you like, your traumas, your mistakes? The only thing that makes sharing worth it is knowing that there are other people out there who like the same things, share your traumas, and won't judge you by your mistakes and that by sharing your stories, you can find them and even if it's just for a moment, just a single small interaction.

But if you can't find them? They don't let you know that—yes, we're alike! I like this too! I understand this character! I don't mind that you're imperfect, we're human!—Why keep sharing? Why leave all these painful pieces of yourself scattered about if you gain NOTHING from it? Why leave something that was meant to be a bridge of connection up, when it goes unwalked? It's an abandoned house, an unused lot, a corpse. Community interaction is the lifeblood of fic, and if the blood doesn't flow, it will be buried.

Yes, fandom may not cost money, but there needs to be an exchange if you want it to continue because fandom is and always will be a community, not just fics and art.

"But I'm scared to comment!" "I just want to lurk!" etc.

That's valid, but you can't complain when authors delete their fics, stop posting, and fandom begins to dwindle because all they received for their efforts and nakedness is silence. Kudos and likes will always be appreciated, but that's not connected, that is not community, and that's not what authors share and bare their hearts for. Of course, you can be upset when fics disappear and authors leave, but don't bitch if you know the reason why and could have helped prevent it. If you don't play your part in the community keep your mouth shut when it dies. Don't cry at the funeral a fandom you did nothing more but look at.

Let authors delete their fics and disappear in peace. They were shown how little the community valued them when they were left in silence, and no amount of complaints and cutesy positive posts are going to change that.

Deleting fic isn't evil. It's the acceptance that no matter how much you share, how much effort you give, the community doesn't care enough to even give you a single thumbs up and it's the action of parting ways with that community.

And asking those people who just want to leave and be left alone because the community was neglectful to keep sharing AND walk away if they don't like the silence by orphaning their fics instead of deleting them is so selfish. It's cruel to pressure them to keep their work up when they're ready to leave because YOU want to just take, take, take, and give not even a thanks in return.

I'm so sick of being treated like a monster when I post a fic, work it for months upon months, see the hit could rise higher and higher, and get not even a single person interacting but being treated like a selfish monster for deleting it when continuing to share it eventually became too painful.

"Oh, but write for yourself! You shouldn't write for the comments!" I write for myself, my Google Docs are full of dozens upon dozens of fics that I read and reread, laugh and cry at. But I only share for the comments/community, and well, the community decided that it doesn't want me and so I'm done sharing. I'm never sharing again when I'll just be fucking ignored. I'm done letting people call me and anyone else who has also decided they're done sharing selfish entitled pricks for just wanting to connect with others when they didn't give a damn dollar or even just a fucking smile emoji in return

[district4loading]

Twice's Tour Chronicles (WLW)

Twice x Twice : Sana!dom x Dahyun!sub | Jihyo!dom x Tzuyu!sub | Nayeon!dom x Momo!dom x Mina!sub

6K Words

Content Warning: smut, threesome, member x member, toys, face riding, oral

Minors DNI

A/N: The person that asked for the twice members shower situation requested that I continued the scenario so here it is. This is my first time doing member x member stuff but it was fun and I can't wait to do some more of it.

Enjoy!!

-

"Okay, I'll say it since no one else will"

Jeongyeon starts off, looking around the room to make sure that all eyes are on her, including the managers and the staff "If the driver is going to take another hour to get here, we might as well kill the time by showering here"

The statement gets mixed reactions. Sana's the first one to twist herself in Dahyun's lap and say "Yeah, I'm in desperate need of a shower right now." There's a few other girls that nod and hum in agreement while some others are hesitant to give a proper response or even acknowledge it.

The girls are backstage at the MetLife Stadium and they just finished performing a show that will probably go down in history as one of their best. Usually, they'd be on their way back to the hotel by now but unfortunately the van that's supposed to pick them up had some mechanical issues. Meaning that their ride is delayed for another hour as Jeongyeon said.

Manager-unnie crosses her arms and stops to think for a bit as the girls watch her silently. "There should be a communal shower just down the hall. I'll check to see if we'll be able to use it"

Dahyun winces a bit when she hears the word "communal" and Sana's the first to notice it. "It's fine I'll just shower when I get back to the hotel" Dahyun shrugs her shoulders.

Tzuyu and Mina nod along with a hum "Me too" The taller girl insists.

Sana slides out of Dahyun's lap "but you hate being sweaty" She says it in that cute little voice of hers and it sounds innocent but if anyone knows Sana, they'd know it's far from it.

"Yeah but.. communal showers aren't my thing you know. It'll be weird"

"It's going to be fine..." Sana leans into Dahyun's ear and says something that nobody else can hear.

Momo and Nayeon watch the two of them and the older girl just catches the way that Momo rolls her eyes "Those two might as well just kiss" she mutters, causing Nayeon to laugh and playfully tap her arm.

"How do you feel about this communal showers thing?" Nayeon questions her.

Momo only shrugs "I just wanna get clean honestly"

So like the strong leader she is, Jihyo gets everyones attention "We've all seen each other naked before, it's really no big deal if we shower together" She looks at the members who are still unsure, although it's looking like Dahyun is about to change her mind with the way Sana has her smiling now.

"Fine" Tzuyu looks at Mina for a moment "I need a shower too, I don't think I can wait"

Then it doesn't take much convincing for Mina to shrug her shoulders and say "Fuck it"

-

So there they are, naked in the communal showers trying to get clean. Chaeyoung really only minds her business and so does Tzuyu, Jihyo and Dahyun because they're more focused on the way the warm water soothes their skin and their sore muscles.

But Mina, no matter how much she tries can't stop sneaking looks at Momo and Nayeon who are to her left and right. All she has to do is turn her head a little bit and she can't help herself when she allows herself to stare at their breasts or the perfect curve of their ass. She's embarrassed by it and she can feel her cheeks burn red the moment she locks eyes with Nayeon.

She turns her head away to face forwards when she suddenly feels someones presence next to her. It's Momo and she's snaking her arms around Mina's waist "Momo, what are you-" She gasps, feeling her nails dig into her skin.

"I thought I'd come over here since you wouldn't stop looking my way"

Momo looks over to Nayeon and winks, beckoning her to come over as well. So she does and now poor little Mina is practically cornered by these two vixens. Nayeon puts a hand on Mina's breast while Momo kisses on her neck. The younger girl closes her eyes, not knowing what the hell she's gotten herself into.

She's being fondled by two people at once and no matter how much she whines their names, she knows she wants more.

Meanwhile Sana's sneaking up behind an unsuspecting Dahyun who almost yelps when she feels a pair of small hands grab her ass. "That's not funny" She huffs to Sana who only giggles and wraps her arms around the younger girls body. "Seriously" Dahyun tries not to smile but it's prevalent in her tone and the subtle quiver on her lips.

"Aw c'mon Dahyunnie, you know I can't stay away from you for more than a minute"

Their wet bodies are completely flush together, smooth wet skin against smooth wet skin. "So clingy" Dahyun taps her arm "If you want me to help you shower then just say that"

Jeongyeon holds in a laugh and turns to Jihyo "Hey, leader. Aren't you gonna do something? The members are about to fuck"

The acclaimed leader only snorts "If I get involved, we all might end up unable to look into each others eyes for the rest of the tour" Then she finds herself staring at whatever Momo, Mina and Nayeon have going on across the room.

"I'm sure Mina and Nayeon won't mind if you steal Momo away from them for a moment" Jeongyeon shrugs, her words causing Jihyo's cheeks to burn.

She turns over "I was not staring at Momo"

It's very unconvincing the way she says it because it sounds like she's trying to convince herself of that more that she's trying to convince Jeongyeon. "I didn't say you were I just-"

"Just what?" The leader snaps

"Nothing" Jeongyeon tries to hold in a laugh, figuring that maybe she shouldn't try to open that can of worms again.

Chaeyoung looks over to Tzuyu "See, I could've predicted that this would happen"

"What?"

"Sana and Dahyun.. Mina between Nayeon and Momo... I saw it happening" She shrugs causing Tzuyu to laugh a bit "When we get back to the hotel I wouldn't be surprised if some of them spent the night together"

"I've only been looking, I don't think I could bring myself to actually.." She trails off but the older girl catches the drift and nods.

It's something that the youngest has thought about a few times, although she'd never actually act on anything. She was too shy and too awkward to do so. As opposed to Chaeyoung, who didn't really have any interest in hooking up with the members. But she wasn't one to judge, in fact she says "You should try it out"

Tzuyu only shakes her head and continues to scrub her body, feeling herself turn red at just the thought of...

-

"Jihyo-unnie!" The leader hears the familiar voice of the one and only maknae echoing loud in the hallway of the hotel. She turns around to see none other than Tzuyu walking past the door to her own room and straight to her.

Jihyo's immediately curious, stopping to look at Tzuyu with her arms crossed "What's up?" 

"Can we talk?" Jihyo nods, then waits for the youngest to speak "In private" Tzuyu clarifies.

First Jihyo's a bit hesitant but she reaches for the door knob and she opens it anyways. As Twice's leader she knows every one of her members inside and out. So she'll always keep her door open if a member is in need of any guidance or anything of the sort.

They both sit next to each other on the edge of the bed and Jihyo notices that Tzuyu's not looking her in the eye. So she starts things off "Whats on your mind Tzu?" She tilts her head, placing her hand on the younger girls thigh. It wasn't anything more than a simple act of assurance to get her comfortable and Tzuyu knows that. Still, her ears burn red from the contact.

"I..." She swallows and turns to meet the leaders eyes "Have you ever uh... like.." Jihyo nods along, holding eye contact intensely a bit worried about the girl in fronr of her. Tzuyu takes a deep breath, noticing how pathetic she seems not being able to form a proper sentence "Have you ever been with one of the members. Like sexually?" She blurts the words out, although the question wasn't really necessary.

Everyone knew that Jihyos been with Momo and she's gotten with Sana too. She asked it to get the conversation going so she can make a move.

Jihyo just chuckles, relaxing the tensions in her body once she realizes what this is about "I mean.. yeah. Why?"

"I think I'm... curious about it but I don't know. I've never been with a girl before" Tzuyu admits, breaking eye contact before she can even finish her sentence.

"So who are you interested in? I could maybe help you set something up with her" 

Tzuyu only smiles, her cheeks turning red as she looks at Jihyo, putting her hand over hers that's on her thigh "How about you show me the ropes first. Then we can talk about the others" Somehow she's able to smoothen out her tone when she says it, sounding a little bit more confident.

Jihyo's eyes widen, she wasn't expecting this at all. "Tzu... are you sure?"

"Y..Yeah" Tzuyu nods reluctantly, finding Jihyo's surprise a little discouraging.

Jihyo holds Tzuyu's chin, forcing her to look her in the eye "I want you to be completely 100% sure about it first, show me that confidence again"

"I want to" Tzuyu looks into her eyes when she says it, causing Jihyo to give her a satisfied smile. Her hand moves to caress Tzuyu's soft cheek and she just has to admire the younger girl's face a bit. 

She's beautiful.

"Can I kiss you?" Jihyo asks softly and Tzuyu nods immediately.

So Jihyo leans in, eager to get her lips on Tzuyu's. The maknae doesn't waste any time to reciprocate the kiss. She moves her lips nice and slow against Jihyo's, allowing herself to taste and smudge the lipgloss that's on her lips. 

As things heat up, Tzuyu finds herself moaning softly into Jihyo's mouth. The pretty sounds she makes on her lips causes the leader to feel a familiar heat inside of her body. Jihyo begins to kiss her harder and a bit faster, saliva finding it's way at the corners of the girls' lips and sliding down their chins.

There's nothing like a good make-out session to Jihyo. She could spend a good while doing it. Especially when she feels Tzuyu's hands wandering to where she's always wanted them to be in the first place. Tzuyu cups Jihyo's full breasts in her hands, feeling how soft they are, just like she thought they'd be. 

Jihyo's hands deviate too, slipping underneath Tzuyu's T-shirt to hold and feel the skin on her slim waist. The sounds of the smacking of their lips and their eager moans fill the warm lit room room as they grow hungrier for each other. 

She tugs at the hem of Tzuyu's top and they have to break the kiss for the first time to get it off. Tzuyu bites her lip, already missing the taste of Jihyo's when she begins to take off her own top. She can't help but look at the leaders breasts and how they nearly burst out of her bra, it's got her cheeks hot. Jihyo giggles as she reaches back to unclasp her bra "You can touch them if you'd like" She offers welcomingly with a smirk.

Tzuyu hesitates a bit but then her hands reach out to touch them. She holds them both in her hands and they feel much better, warmer and even softer without clothes over them. "Can... can I suck them?" The curiosity in Tzuyu's tone has Jihyo nearly swooning because she's so unbearably cute and endearing.

"Go ahead" She nods and Tzuyu scoots forwards, ducking her head down to get the nipple in her mouth. Jihyo moans softly, the sensitivity her nipples harbor only enhances the pleasure for her. It's obvious Tzuyu's never done this before, the way she's moving her tongue and sucking feels so amateur in the cutest way possible.

So Jihyo giggles, allowing her to explore and do her own thing until she's ready to stop. Soon she comes up "Now what?" Tzuyu asks and Jihyo has to sit and think a bit before she scoots further onto the bed, then spreads her legs and taps the spot in front of her.

"Come sit here" Jihyo smiles warmly. Tzuyu does as she's told, then and she presses her back against Jihyo. "Let me help you take these off" She offers, tugging and pulling at the waistband of her sweats so she lifts her hips and helps get them all the way off. "Can I touch you here?" 

Tzuyu nods "Yes, please" as Jihyo kisses along her neck, fingers ghosting over her underwear.

"So Tzu... how come all of a sudden you're interested in me"

"Well-" A soft moan stops her mid sentence when Jihyo puts some actual pressure on her panties "Well, I saw that Dahyun and Sana and the others were having a good time. I got curious" She shrugs, causing Jihyo to hum in response.

"But why'd you choose me?"

"I thought you were the most trustworthy, you know me the most"

Jihyo smiles as she slides Tzuyu's panties to the side, running the tip of her finger up her slit. From the feel of it, just a bit of kissing and nipple play has got Tzuyu all dripping and ready for her leader. It boosts her confidence through the roof.

She hears a small little whine come from the younger girl when she begins to circle her clit "How does that feel?" Jihyo mutters against her skin soft skin.

"Good" She hums, then spreads her legs a bit wider to give better access. Without another word, Jihyo slides two whole fingers inside of Tzuyu's aching heat, hearing a loud moan escape her lips full of pleasure and surprise. "Ah- Jihyo" She has to shush the younger a bit as she begins to glide her fingers in and out, curling them perfectly for her.

"You're so wet, just look how easy it's going in and out" Jihyo whispers, looking over Tzuyu's shoulder. Tzuyu looks down also, unable to take her eyes off the sight in front of her. Something tells her that she should be embarrassed because just look at her, a moaning and squirming mess on Jihyo's fingers and she's only just started.

But it feels too good for her to have any sort of shame. Right now there's only pleasure and she's absolutely drunk with it. "Please- Jihyo right there" She sobs, eyes threatening to roll back each time Jihyo buries her fingers to the hilt.

When Tzuyu woke up this morning, this isn't how she envisioned the following night going. Like always she'd keep to herself and stay in her room to recharge after a long concert. Instead she's in Jihyo's room getting fingered and fondled with her head in the clouds. Each squeeze of her petite breasts gets her gushing and when Jihyo kisses her neck so sweetly it's almost too much.

"What was that Tzu?" Jihyo sinks her teeth into the younger girl's neck, then licks over her red teeth marks "Go on, tell me how it feels" Jihyo hums, noticing the stutter in each breath she takes in. Jihyo says the words so slowly, her voice deep and soulful like she means it and God Tzuyu's mind just fucking breaks.

"I- It's so fucking good... fuck- how are you doing that?" She moans, turning her head towards Jihyo the best she can for some answers. Tzuyu can't understand it at all, how Jihyo can get her like this just with two of her fingers. No guy she's been with could ever make her feel pleasure so intense and earth-shattering that she can't even focus on making her moans sound pretty. They're labored and broken but Jihyo likes it that way, she likes her this way.

Then Jihyo's hand slides down from Tzuyu's breast and she brings it to the throbbing bud that's begging for attention. She slaps it, not once, but twice and with each one Tzuyu's entire body jerks "Again" she nods. It's the first time that she's said something with so much conviction so far. "Fuck!" She squeals when Jihyo does it a bit harder this time, then she rubs it to ease the pain.

"I would've never pegged you to be the type to like being slapped down there" Jihyo snickers so arrogantly, like she knows how badly she's fucking this poor girl up tonight. 

Tzuyu doesn't respond, she just can't. Not when both of Jihyo's hands are doing all the right things. She tries to move because the pleasure's got her close but Jihyo's strong arms are constricting her, holding her in place so that the only thing she can do right now is take it. "Jihyo" It comes out as a helpless and breathy whisper "I'm almost there" The warning is pleading, like she needs her to take her to the finish line so badly.

"Yeah?" Jihyo nods 

Tzuyu nods back, moaning a louder "Yeah" back as she turns to face her the best she can. Jihyo can tell what she needs right now, there's no need to ask for it. So she leans and cranes her neck the best she can to get their lips together. She swallows all of the maknae's moans, kissing her nice and slow as she gets her to the point of no return.

She hums a sweet and encouraging "mm-hm" on the other girls lips right when her body begins shaking.

And with a particularly loud and hoarse moan Tzuyu cums all over Jihyo's fingers, her cunt helplessly clenching and pulsing around them. At this point she's stopped kissing back and Jihyo's the one doing all the work, fucking her through her orgasm as she sucks and bites on her lips. 

It's all so worth it to make Tzuyu fall apart on her fingers.

-

So there they are, laying in bed together after Tzuyu timidly requested to stay the night. She lays in Jihyo's arms a little exhausted and weak from their activities. "Next time can I try topping?" Jihyo only laughs for a moment because it's the first words she's said since they decided to ask. When she hears it, her ears go red "I'm sorry, I was just saying what I was thinking"

Jihyo runs her hand through her hair "No Tzu don't be sorry. You're just cute" She breathes in a bit and she smiles warmly "Yeah, I'll let you top me"

"You'll have to teach me" She clears her throat, the embarrassment starts flooding in. Being this inexperienced at her age, feeling all the things Jihyo made her feel for the first time tonight--it all made her feel like she's missing out on the better parts of life and now she's hoping that Jihyo will be patient with her.

"We'll take things slow, I won't rush you into anything" Jihyo assures her, pulling her in closer for comfort. 

It's just peaceful when they fall asleep in each others arms.

-

Sana and Dahyun were all over each other getting to the hotel, they decided to stop by the open bar downstairs to maybe get a few drinks. 

On their way back, Sana's naughty giggles could be heard from all the way down the hall as she fiddled with the lock to the younger members room. Once they make it inside, Sana wastes no time to press the smaller girl up against the nearest wall. She presses their lips together once, then twice "I think I'm obsessed with you" Sana mutters on Dahyun's lips as she reaches for the buttons on her jeans.

"You think?" Dahyun suppresses a moan as Sana dips her head into her neck, kissing and licking on the soft and pale skin "No marks" she winces when the brown haired girl attacks her skin a little too rough with her mouth. 

She doesn't respond, only shoves her hand into Dahyun's panties, getting a feel of the wet warmth she's been harboring the entire ride back to the hotel. "Oh- looks like someones been ready for me a while" Sana smirks, kissing her once more as she circles her cunt.

Like the tease she is, she slips her hand out and places her sticky fingers into her mouth, humming erotically at the sweet taste. Sana leans in, allowing their lips to collide once more with a grip on the younger's waist. She then guides her, walking her all the way to the bedroom where she can push her onto the bed to lay down. "Clothes off" She orders, still standing as she pulls her hoodie over her head.

In a flash, Dahyun's wiggles herself out of her clothes and they end up somewhere on the floor. Sana giggles as she reaches to unclasp her bra, letting her small breasts go free. Now that they're both bare, Sana's ready to allow their bodies to come together again. She crawls on top of the smaller girl, kissing along her jawline, then all the way down to her kneck and chest.

Dahyun's got a great body. It's probably why Sana's so obsessed. She could spend hours just sucking on those perfect nipples of hers without getting bored or tired. Ask Dahyun, she's done it before. "Unnie" Dahyun moans, the pure unadulterated pleasure coursing throughout her body when she feels Sana's warm tongue on her nipple.

She flicks the muscle on the stiff peaks, massaging the other breast gently with her hand, careful not to dig her nails into the skin. Sana was mindful about things like that. It's part of the reason why Dahyun's only trusted Sana with her body thus far. "My perfect girl" Sana mutters as she moves to the next nipple, treating it with the same care and affection.

It was no joke that she could spend and hour doing it. The devilish smirk on her face and the intense eye contact she makes tells Dahyun that much. "Sana Unnie" Dahyun whines, hands weakly trying to push Sana down to where she needed her the most. 

Sana opens her mouth and starts licking around and between the younger girls breasts, coating her body with her saliva. She hums "Well what?" She plants a kiss between her tits "You keep calling me, but you won't tell me what you want"

Something that Sana loves to do? Tease. No matter if she was topping or bottoming, the girl is a tease. She know's how shy and red Dahyun can get once she's got her begging and pleading for her to do the nastiest things to her body. She really gets off on it. The whining, the whimpering, it's all like fuel to her when she hears the way the adorable sounds come out of Dahyun's mouth.

"Need your tongue... need your fingers" She squirms under Sana's weight, trying to achieve just the tiny bit of friction that'll be enough to at least ease the ache in between her legs. She can feel that her inner thighs are already all slippery with her arousal and it makes it all the more embarrassing. "Please, inside unnie" Her hips grind up into nothing.

Sana smirks "Whatever you want." Then she's going lower, still keeping that eye-contact as she kisses her way down Dahyun's sleek body. Down to her belly, all the way to her wanting cunt. Sana blows on it first, giggling at the sudden twitch her leg gives to the contact. Then Sana makes duck lips to plant soft kisses on her outer lips, coating them with her wetness "You would make a great lipgloss" Sana jokes.

Dahyun can't laugh, nor can she even acknowledge the joke that Sana made. Just her lips, Sana's soft fucking lips has Dahyun a whining mess. She needs more but she's so sensitive that each small kiss is almost too pleasureful. Thankfully, Sana stops teasing, she gets a good grip on Dahyun's plump thighs before flattening her tongue on her clit. "Oh- Yes Sana!" Dahyun says her name like she's the only girl in the world.

That's certainly what it felt like

She keeps going, licking, flicking and swirling her tongue on the sweet bundle of nerves between Dahyun's legs. She's going crazy, moaning and squirming with her fingers tangled in Sana's hair. She has to stop herself from pulling, but it feels so good she almost needs to. "S-Sana!" She whimpers, voice shaking as she moans the older girls name. It's like music to her ears.

"Mhm" Sana can only really hum to let Dahyun know that she's there and she hears her because her mouth is currently occupied. It doesn't take long for the younger girl to break eye contact, she throws her head back, hand covering her flushed face as she lay flat on the mattress.

She can swear up and down right now that nobody can eat her out like Sana. She knows her body inside and out, it's almost unfair.

Sana brings up her hand, prodding Dahyun's tight entrance with the long digit. As soon as she feels it she moans "Please!" Needing to feel Sana's fingers pounding and stretching her just the way she likes.

The older pulls her head back and spits on the sloppy cunt in front of her, spreading it around until she inevitably slides a finger inside. Dahyun grips the sheets so tight, it's probably done damage "So tight Dahyunnie" Sana murmurs before getting her mouth back on Dahyuns clit, making the girl choke out a moan.

Sana pumps her finger in and out, nice and slow so she's careful not to hurt her. She makes sure to curl it just the way Dahyun likes before she begins to swirl her tongue around. Figure eight motions will always get her going as Sana remembers, so thats exactly what she does, not at all caring if her tongue gets tired or sore. Dahyun tastes too good for her to stop and she sounds too good for her to stop.

The noises that fill the room are just obscene. Loud and aggressive slimy sounds at each flick of Sana's tongue and fingers. Then there's dahyun's pretty moans that she's given up on hiding at this point. It's hot, she's hot.

"Can I add another?" Sana detatches her lips for a moment to ask

"Yes please" Dahyun nods frantically and the look on her face is pure wreckage. Eyes squinted like she's about to cry when she throws her head back at the stretch of Sana's second finger. "Thank you, Thank you, Thank you, Thank- ah!" That's the moment Sana hits her g-spot. 

Sana lowers her head again, wrapping her moist lips around Dahyun's clit to suck on the bud as hard as she can. It'll send her over the edge, she knows it. "Sanaaaa Fu-ah!" Dahyun grabs a pillow and puts it over her face, squeezing the soft object with all her strengh. 

Now Sana has to try a bit harder to hold Dahyun down with her free hand because she's moving around more. She holds strong though, working her fingers into the girl like her sole purpose in life is to make Dahyun cum as hard as she can.

By the looks of it, she was on the way there. With her moans going up an octave and the pillow not doing a very good job at quieting her down, her body begins to tremble. Sana hums and the vibrations immediately stimulate Dahyun's nerves in a way that sends her off of the edge almost immediately. "Sana... I'm cumming!" She moans out loud and proud through the pillow, hips stuttering and bucking in Sana's mouth as she tries to ride out her orgasm. It's so good it has her words getting stuck in her throat.

She begins to breath as if she's hyperventilating as her orgasm knocks the wind out of her. "God" She groans long and low. When she finally comes down from her high and Sana slips her fingers out and withdraws her mouth from the tired girl. 

Sana gets level with her, then puts her lips on hers "Thank you" Dahyun murmurs tiredly. 

Then Sana giggles a bit "No problem" her hand begins to slide down her body again but Dahyun weakly pushes her hand away because she's sensitive "Aw you don't want to have any more fun with me?"

Dahyun shakes her head "Mm-mm Unnie I'm tired" 

Sana only kisses her cheek and allows her to fall asleep in her arms, she deserves it.

-

In Nayeon's room, there's something a bit more sinister going on.

"What do you think Nayeon unnie? Should we give this pervert a break, or do you think she needs to cum one more time?" Momo giggles, allowing the purple vibrator in her hands graze Mina's clit ever so slightly. The younger girl can only whine and pull weakly at the handcuffs around her wrists.

Nayeon rubs her hand along Mina's sweaty body, tweaking her stiff nipples in between her fingers "I think our little Minari can handle a little more" The eldest leans in, putting her lips on Mina's to kiss her softly. While their lips move together in unison and their tongues begin to invade each others mouths, Momo slips the toy inside of Mina's tight hole. The way she moans into Nayeon's mouth makes the two giggle as the vibrator goes in and out of Mina's sopping cunt.

The poor girl can barely even keep up with the kiss. With Momo's punishing pace and Nayeon's wandering hands that knead her small breasts--it's all too much. Mina's hips buck and shake. In that moment her legs nearly shut. Momo glares, then slaps her thigh "remember what happens if you close your legs, slut" She says before angling the toy differently to fuck it into her just a bit deeper.

"I-I know, I didn't - fuck - I didn't close them" Mina moans, holding onto Nayeon's arm as she moves down to kiss against the quiet girls neck. 

"So greedy Mina" Nayeon makes a tsk noise "You've got both your little holes filled and it still doesn't seem like you're satisfied" She's referring to the butt plug that's been stretching Mina out since they started "How about we fill that loud mouth?" 

Momo laughs when she realizes where Nayeon's going with this but she doesn't say anything as she shifts to her knees to straddle Mina's face. If her face wasn't already red, it is now because the view she has of Nayeon's body right now is insane. Not to mention the taste when she actually gets herself seated. 

Like a good girl, Mina begins licking and sucking the best she can and it's already got Nayeon biting her lip. She turns to Momo "She doesn't get to cum until i'm finished, alright?" 

"And you call me mean" Momo stops to lower the vibrations, then she slows down the pace. She allows the dildo to slowly drag in and out of Mina, making sloppy sticky noises each time she buries it in her. 

The way Mina's moaning on Nayeon's cunt has her squeezing her eyes shut, rocking her hips back and forth on the younger girls perfect mouth. "I swear to fucking god... Mina you're amazing" Nayeon breathes, allowing one of her hands to come up to knead her own breasts. 

Momo can't just watch all of this unfold in front of her. It's just too fucking hot, the way Nayeon's groping her sweaty body, abs making an appearance from the absolute workout it is to ride face. Her body's perfect, Momo can mostly see the back, her perfectly round ass jiggling with each rut she makes against Mina's face.

The muffled noises that Mina's making isn't anything to ignore either, she sounds to eager to do well, all so she can cum on this toy for the fourth time tonight. So soon enough, Momo's fingers find her own cunt and she begins to rub her clit, moaning softly at the contact. It's not like she's been untouched either. Nayeon quite literally just finished eating her out, but still she wants to cum again.

So Momo figures she'll multi-task

"Fuck-k-king hell, Mina" Nayeon throws her head back, brown damp locks following in the air as silent moans escape her lips. Momo notices that familiar shake of Mina's legs so she pulls the dildo out and slaps it against Mina's cunt.

"You have to make your unnie cum first, darling" Momo teases as she slips her own fingers inside of herself. She glances at Nayeon "It seems like she's almost there" She gasps hotly as she curls her fingers, pressing on her g-spot and almost immediately losing her train of thought. 

"Yeah, Yeah, Yeah, Yeah" Nayeon freezes for a moment, then she keeps going, chanting the same words over and over. She's so hot when she gets like this, when she holds her orgasm for as long as possible to ride that edge. She likes to keep herself in that state for reasons that Momo can never figure out, all she knows is that it's hot.

She slips the toy back into Mina's wet heat, turning the vibrator up to the highest setting, she thinks it'll be poetic if the pair can cum together. She's not too far behind either, with the way her fingers are smashing into her needy cunt. 

Surprisingly, with a loud squeal, Nayeon's already cumming, shaking and stuttering on Mina's mouth. It seems she just couldn't hold back tonight. "Oh G-God! Oh fuck! Oh God!" She gapes as her orgasm hits her. She falls forwards, hands planted on the mattress as she grinds her cunt on Mina's lips. It's long and thorough, something that has Momo watching with pure adoration in her big eyes as she absentmindedly fucks Mina with the dildo, still using her free hand to play with herself.

When Nayeon finishes, she gets off of Mina and drapes her arm over her body "Good girl, Mina" She kisses her cheek, tasting remnants of her cum on the soft flesh. Mina only moans as Momo drives the fake cock deep into her cunt, filling her all the way. "Your turn, go ahead and cum for us darling. You've earned it" Nayeon reaches her hand down to circle Mina's clit.

Her eyes roll to the back of her skull and her back arches "I c-can't" She keens, legs shaking. 

When Nayeon notices it she gasps in excitement. "Oh look at our baby, Momo. Doesn't she fall apart so beautifully?" 

"She absolutely does" Momo bites her lip and that's when Mina's chest begins to rise and fall erratically, breaths audible as she takes them through her nose. 

"I'm cumming" Mina warns and right as she does, her entire body shakes with pleasure as it hits her. Nayeon only encourages her, smiling proudly as the girl cums right before her eyes. Soon, Momo crashes too, letting go of the dildo to instead grip the sheets as her legs slam shut against her wrists. As all the lust withers away, the pungent--but addicting--smell of sex becomes more noticeable.

"We need another shower I think" Momo swallows, taking hard and deep breaths as she stares into the ceiling.

[agirlwithglam]

https://www.tumblr.com/agirlwithglam/760858969670582272/no-guys-you-dont-understand-i-love-myself

How does one get here😭

this was asked a long time ago but i think i finally found the words to write it. (i don't im just bored, sorry!)

so how does one fully love themselves?

getting to that point of my life took time. it took a lot of time. like around 1-2 years of time, and im still not 100% there- i still get hurt sometimes, i'm still emotional and sensitive. but the thing is, that over these 1-2 years i've learnt so much that whenever i'm feeling sad or hurt, i'm able to support myself. i am the first person who shows up for me and does my very best to console and help me. i help myself turn that pain into something even better. i walk myself through what happened and whether i may be overreacting or not. i am the one who is now always always always there for myself.

and i think once i realised this, i genuinely was like "woah." no matter what happens in my life, i will ALWAYS have myself and that thought just soothes me. it relaxes and calms me down. i am no longer scared because there is no reason to be. i know that i cannot control other people, other people will always do what they want to do. they can hurt you, make you happy, hurt you again, even unintentionally. i cannot control their actions, but i can control myself. i can control how i choose to view it and react to it. so every time i get hurt i walk myself through the steps of seeing it a different way.

another thing i did when i was insecure & trying to love myself is that i did affirmations religiously. in the morning doing skincare, i would always repeat affirmations or listen to affirmations. it would be phrases like "i love myself." / "i am beautiful", etc. it's not the sole thing that transformed my love for myself, but it did help a ton with me believing it. (doing affirmations enough time can also help rewire your brain into believing what you keep repeating)

also, you need to realise that you do love yourself. a human's natural state of being is love. return to that state of being. a little baby or a child, they are full of love. they give love, they receive love, they are never ending of love. and they are the purest form of a person for they are themselves before society has told them who to be. so do you realise that you deserve love fully and beyond what you could imagine? and the one person in the whole world that can give you that unlimited love, is yourself. but you must choose to love yourself.

stop constantly returning to the state of insecurity okay? thats not you!! you are not insecure, you just think you are insecure! but in reality, there is NOTHING to be insecure about. someone else could have the exact same quality as you and love it so much! so end this cycle of negativity. choose to live a different, happier, more positive life. its all up to you. u can CHOOSE to be different!

finally, to end with, honey it will take time. just because you don't find yourself loving what you see in the mirror after 1 day, doesn't mean you never will. you don't have to keep changing yourself to love yourself. if your daughter looked like you, would you hate her? would you cringe when you look at her? of course not. treat yourself as your daughter. be gentle with yourself. be there for yourself. show up for yourself. it may take time, but please, don't give up on yourself.

[xx-neva-xx]

Neva went quiet when he answered her; of course it would come back to the same thing he'd mentioned before: he was a commoner and she was royalty. The anger she'd felt for the way the woman was so touchy just ebbed away as she furrowed her brows, looking down at the table. "You know how much I hate when you do that." her voice was quiet as she started to pick at the hem of her cloak.

"You aren't 'just a commoner', you're my best friend and-" it was clear with how she repeated his words that she held disdain for them but she also found she couldn't say what she was thinking. She'd always just assumed that they'd be close, that nothing would change between them. Yet the thought of losing him to some woman she didn't know just irked her to no end and it made her feel even worse.

"I don't want to lose you, not to someone like her or...or to anyone else. I...really like you, I always have. It doesn't matter to me that you aren't royalty." Maybe it mattered to him though. The thought had her avoiding his gaze, the urge to cry growing though she did her best to fight it off. "I just...assumed we'd always be together."

"Okaaay." Finn looked at the wall again, nearly asked what it had done to her do deserve such a dirty look, when the glared finally turned to him. "What?" This was the first time he'd ever seen her jealous, though it was usually just the two of them. "Um, nothing..." Finn looked over his shoulder at the bartender than back to Neva. "Figured she was just being a friendly employee and one day she just started calling me Finny..."

"Honestly, didn't think that you would care?" The two were close, but they never were exactly intimate. In his mind the two of them making a life together was always ruled out because she was a princess and he was just a commoner. "I mean, we're not together in that way. You're, well you're you and I'm just a commoner..." Nervously, he scratched his chin, the conversation growing more uncomfortable.

[ninjuice]

Vent post no need to read

[aliusfrater]

dean's abusive actions go unacknowledged or intentionally ignored* until it comes to the apologia or absolution of dean's actions through the reattribution/recognising of them as emulations of john thereby refocusing the act and their effects solely onto john. sigh

[here-there-were-dragons]

i have to wonder what super hardcore militant vegans think should be done about obligate carnivore animals, because in all my painfully-rapidly-approaching-30-years i've literally never actually seen anyone give a clear consistent much less halfway feasible answer on that

[leebrontide]

Here's a funny little story about disability accommodation.

So I'm a bit deaf. Like...I have a prescription for a hearing aide but don't own one kind of a bit deaf. And I used to work at this noisy ass addiction treatment clinic. So even in my office I relied a lot on lipreading.

So one day I'm working with this client, and she's getting more and more upset and shut down, no matter how I try to steer us onto a calm, relaxed subject of conversation. And I can't figure out why the conversation has gone so far south.

And then I realize I am sitting at a buckwild angle in my chair, leaning waaaay over to the side. I'm almost falling off this chair. I look like a total goober.

And then I realize I'm doing that because I'm trying to lipread this client, who keeps turning further and further down and away from me. I probably would have noticed sooner but lipreading is actually kind of hard and I was focusing on noticing her upset rather than my body language.

And then it clicks.

She thinks I'm leaning like this because I am being a passive-aggressive asshole who is trying to force/shame her into making eye contact with me. I'd known this client enough to know she hates eye contact- possibly autism, possibly anxiety. Always possible it's both or something else.

I sit up straight and say. "Oh! Hey, I don't give a shit about eye contact, I'm trying to read your lips so I can understand what you're saying to me."

Instant vibe change. She relaxes, and sits upright comfortably in her chair, looking about a foot to the left of my head, so I can see her face clearly but she doesn't have to either fake or evade unwanted eye contact.

From then on things go a lot smoother, and we can get some good work done.

One side benefit from normalizing accommodations and reducing barriers to them is that it allows for low-stress conversations about what everybody needs in order to fully participate in an interaction. If I hadn't named the need I was trying to meet, she wouldn't have realized she could have her need met as well.

[makingshortstorieslong]

.

[teaboot]

Okay so like. You know your own name as a kid, right?

You remember how it sounds, how your parents say it, how your friends say it- you learn how to spell it, and maybe even what it means and why it was given to you, and it's yours.

It's not a tangible, physical thing, like your hair or your fingernails, but it's yours. It belongs to you.

So, like. Imagine there comes a point in life where everyone gets their name tattooed to their forehead, or something.

Could be when they're two. Could be when they're twenty. Hell, it could be when they're eighty, or ninety-nine, or whenever. But it's everybody, and it's inevitable, and it happens.

Now imagine the time comes for you, and you get up after and look in the mirror and realize they spelled it wrong.

And you have to go outside and live your life in a world where everybody is so totally used to knowing people's names on sight that not a single person second-guesses that your parents named you Susam, or Ahley, or Benjabib.

And you know it's wrong, every time you hear it, but you can choose to explain every single time- every time you're called in a coffee queue, every time a teacher picks you in class, every time you meet a new person or bump into a stranger or are greeted on the street, by children and employers and door-to-door salesmen and your fucking waitress- or you can kind of just learn to grit your teeth and ignore it.

You still notice, of course- maybe you learn to accept it, maybe you hate it every time, but whether you do anything about it or not, you still know. You know people have the wrong word for you in your head.

You know they still mean YOU, but it's not you.

So what's your solution?

Do you shrug, decide it doesn't matter, and go about your life?

Do you smear the typo over with foundation, pencil in new letters every morning?

Do you stare into the mirror sometimes and think, "wow, I should really get that fixed"?

Maybe you save up your money and get it removed, or covered up, or changed to something else. Maybe the whole damn thing was wrong, and you've been a Jacob running around as a Hailey this whole damn time.

That's the best way to explain it. It's not an easily-provable thing, or a demonstrable thing, or a feeling I can one-for-one substitute as something else-

but that's what it's like to know you're not a girl.

[writeblrfantasy]

my 10 holy grail pieces of writing advice for beginners

from an indie author who's published 4 books and written 20+, as well as 400k in fanfiction (who is also a professional beta reader who encounters the same issues in my clients' books over and over)

show don't tell is every bit as important as they say it is, no matter how sick you are of hearing about it. "the floor shifted beneath her feet" hits harder than "she felt sick with shock."

no head hopping. if you want to change pov mid scene, put a scene break. you can change it multiple times in the same scene! just put a break so your readers know you've changed pov.

if you have to infodump, do it through dialogue instead of exposition. your reader will feel like they're learning alongside the character, and it will flow naturally into your story.

never open your book with an exposition dump. instead, your opening scene should drop into the heart of the action with little to no context. raise questions to the reader and sprinkle in the answers bit by bit. let your reader discover the context slowly instead of holding their hand from the start. trust your reader; donn't overexplain the details. this is how you create a perfect hook.

every chapter should end on a cliffhanger. doesn't have to be major, can be as simple as ending a chapter mid conversation and picking it up immediately on the next one. tease your reader and make them need to turn the page.

every scene should subvert the character's expectations, as big as a plot twist or as small as a conversation having a surprising outcome. scenes that meet the character's expectations, such as a boring supply run, should be summarized.

arrive late and leave early to every scene. if you're character's at a party, open with them mid conversation instead of describing how they got dressed, left their house, arrived at the party, (because those things don't subvert their expectations). and when you're done with the reason for the scene is there, i.e. an important conversation, end it. once you've shown what you needed to show, get out, instead of describing your character commuting home (because it doesn't subvert expectations!)

epithets are the devil. "the blond man smiled--" you've lost me. use their name. use it often. don't be afraid of it. the reader won't get tired of it. it will serve you far better than epithets, especially if you have two people of the same pronouns interacting.

your character should always be working towards a goal, internal or external (i.e learning to love themself/killing the villain.) try to establish that goal as soon as possible in the reader's mind. the goal can change, the goal can evolve. as long as the reader knows the character isn't floating aimlessly through the world around them with no agency and no desire. that gets boring fast.

plan scenes that you know you'll have fun writing, instead of scenes that might seem cool in your head but you know you'll loathe every second of. besides the fact that your top priority in writing should be writing for only yourself and having fun, if you're just dragging through a scene you really hate, the scene will suffer for it, and readers can tell. the scenes i get the most praise on are always the scenes i had the most fun writing. an ideal outline shouldn't have parts that make you groan to look at. you'll thank yourself later.

happy writing :)

[iniquitousyearning]

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S KINKTOBER

october 18th. mattheo — hate fucking / enemies.

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST. | 2024.

summary: “at least her favourite form of foreplay isn’t an argument…” “or being a bitch her kink..”

warnings: 18+ MDNI, dubcon(meh), ex bf/gf trope, toxic behaviour, mutual manipulation, these two are chaotic as fuck, mentions of blood, gagging, degradation, rough sex PIV, hate fucking, spitting, spanking, uhhh i think that covers it. this one is a ride. can you tell this is my fav trope?

"I'm so fucking sick of you.”

"Get well soon, princess."

"Get fucked, Riddle."

Three sentences, three venomous insults that cut the room in half—heavy enough in their intensity to make you want to tear through dungeon walls, splintering stone and mortar with bare hands if it means sparing yourself another second in this blasted room, with him.

Detention at midnight—on a Friday, no fucking less—is unheard of. But leave it to your dickhead ex to make the impossible a reality. His fault, of course. Like always.

Snape had turned a blind eye for months. It was only a matter of time before something had to give. An hour unsupervised was as good as you'll get.

Sulking defeat, you sink back in your chair, rough wood digging into your spine as you eye Mattheo with a glare that could rival a bullet. He looks like hell, and it's infuriating how even in that state he manages to look so nonchalant, so maddeningly unbothered—like even exhaustion makes a home on him and he's comfortable with it. Bags under his eyes, scar cutting across the bridge of his nose, those dark curls falling messily over his forehead, white dress shirt wrinkled and open at the collar.

You roll your eyes, a gesture that feels like your only act of rebellion left.

And he notices. Of course he does.

"You haven't changed a bit," he spits, and you know it's an insult. You scowl as he swipes the blood off his chin with the sleeve of his shirt. "Always a bitch to me over something."

Bitch. The name strikes you, but you won't let him see it, won't let him know that it lands. You've bled too many times at his feet for him to draw blood again tonight.

"Am I not allowed to be pissed off that you dragged us into detention? We should be at the party, Mattheo. We should be anywhere but here." You hear the frustration rising in your voice, like it's boiling up from somewhere deep, somewhere you can't quite reach. It's hard not to let it slip, especially when he looks at you like that. "This is so fucking typical of you. You mess up, and somehow I'm the one who pays for it."

For a moment, there's silence, and it almost feels like a victory until you realize he's only biding his time, waiting to strike back.

"You really want to get back there? To that party?" He leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. You long for the chair to break from under him. "After what your new man was caught doing with Lovegood?"

You snort before you can stop yourself, the sound slipping out like a reflex. You hadn't expected that. And quite frankly, it's amusing—no, downright hilarious—that he's clearly been keeping tabs on you and "new man", and now here he is, trying to play it off like he doesn't care. Like it's nothing.

"I'll spare you the insults this once," you mutter, fingers loosening the tie around your neck with a tug. "Because, clearly, you're ignorant to the truth, even if you think you know every goddamn thing." You pause, ripping out your earrings. "He's not my man, so I don't give a shit what he does with who. He ended it last week. Good fuck, sure—but other than that..."

You trail off, making a mocking noise with your lips, a derisive puff of air, as if you could blow away the memory of him as easily as dust off an old book. A Ravenclaw. Brilliant in all the wrong ways—sharp mind, yes, but utterly thrill-less, like he saw you as just another page to flip through, a textbook he was annotating.

It is what it is.

A moment passes and then Mattheo grins—slow at first, but spreading across his face like fire, destructive in its consummation. It unsettles you. He looks more intrigued than he's been in months.

"A good fuck, huh?"

"That's what I said," you reply, clipped, your tone offering no room for him to crawl inside.

"And why didn't it work out? Too good for you?" He says, twisting the knife just because he can. "Too clean, maybe?"

Your eyes scan the room, searching for something within reach to throw at him, anything to break this unbearable tension. Insufferable. Every inch of him, insufferable.

You find nothing, so you throw words instead. "You're an asshole, you know that?"

He nods, as if that's the truest thing either of you have said all night. Of course he knows.

You barely suppress a dry laugh at his idiocy. "Like I told you—he ended it. If you're so fucking interested in why it didn't work out, then why don't you go ask him?"

There's a pause—he's chewing the inside of his cheek as he stares at you. You imagine chewing his head off as you stare at him.

"I'm sure you gave that bookworm the ride of his life," he says, voice half-dry, half-sarcastic, as if he's already bored of the conversation. As if he knew all of this information already. "Everyone knew that was temporary. Your first rebound, congrats."

And just like that, your blood is boiling. He knows how to needle you, how to get under your skin with the slightest flick of his stupid fucking tongue. Your eyes trace the cold stone of the dungeon walls, desperately trying to find something—anything—to distract yourself.

But it's no use. Mattheo's an asshole. He's always been an asshole. That's why you left. All the two of you did was fight and fuck, a chaotic spiral that was as thrilling as it was destructive. Now, he's easily your enemy—dragging you into his messes, never letting you get too far without ruining your life somehow.

And yet—

If you said you didn't miss the sex sometimes, that'd be a lie. Or at least a half-truth. The kind that slips out when you've had one too many glasses of firewhiskey, the kind you'd regret in the morning.

"What about you, dickhead?" You cut through the silence, ignoring his obvious attempt to rile you up. "That Hufflepuff you were seeing—why'd I see her all over Theo tonight?"

He answers far too fast. "They're friends."

You snort, disbelieving. "Right."

You rise to your feet, crossing the room to the bookcase as if it's the most natural thing in the world. The books feel safer somehow, less volatile.

"You're bored of her, aren't you?" You don't care to look at him. You can imagine the way his jaw tenses at the question.

The silence is telling. He doesn't answer right away. You know him well enough to understand what that means. Then, finally, he speaks, a half-answer that doesn't really answer the fucking question at all.

"At least her favourite form of foreplay isn't a fucking argument." He stands, slow, pushing his hair back from his forehead with one battered hand. You glance at him, pulse quickening. "Or being a bitch her kink."

"Does she even have kinks?" It slips out, a knife thrown without aiming. "Sounds like you're bored, Matty."

You watch as he blinks, his eyes darken. That nickname—you know you don't have the right to say it anymore, and that's exactly why you do. It's an insult wrapped in familiarity, and it hits its mark by the way his shoulders tense, jaw tight.

He steps toward you, one calculated step, and you feel it—that chaotic pull, the gravity that's always drawn you both in, no matter how far you try to stay away. A smile pulls at your lips, a cruel thing.

"How cute." He tilts his head just enough to inspect you, eyes dragging over you like he's searching for something to confirm what he already suspects. "Looks like you're jealous."

Your hand grips the bookshelf, eyes locked on him over your shoulder. Jealous? There's not a soul on this planet who could make you jealous. She may be the hero of this story, the girl that gets the guy, might even be everything you're not—

"Looks like you're learning the hard way," you're inspecting him now, too. Every piece of him you once touched. "When it comes too easy it's never gonna' hit as hard, babe."

Another pause from him—something dancing in his eyes. Anger? Maybe. Or something more, something twisted that you don't care to name. You've already lit the match, and now you're just watching him burn.

"You're so clever, huh? So full of advice," he sneers, ripping off his tie and chucking it on a desk. "Go on then, tell me more about how I feel, professor. Since you know everything about me."

You can't help the smirk that curls on your lips. Oh, he's pissed. And that means you're winning.

"What? You don't like hearing the truth? Too much for your delicate ego?" You take a step toward him, savouring every second of this. He hurt you, over and over, the scars from those days still fresh, still bleeding beneath your skin. This has been a long time coming. "You think I care about your new girl, Matty? The one you let your boys fawn over in the common room?...she kissed Theo tonight." You pause, letting that linger. "You think you're doing something, but I see right through you. You don't give a fuck about her. If you did, no one would dare touch her like that. So don't sit here, accusing me of jealousy, like I'm the one hung up on you. You're projecting. And it's pathetic."

He doesn't waste a goddamn beat—his laugh is bitter, sickeningly so—and he advances again, his shadow moving behind him, the space between you now barely there.

"That's amazing, truly. If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were a goddamn oracle. All-knowing, all-seeing." His voice is infuriating. The look on his face more-so. "What's your verdict then, my lord? You think this is all an act? That everything I'm doing is just to spite you?"

Your heart races, breath catching in your throat as he steps closer. This is a dance you both know too well, the kind where neither of you win.

"I know how you operate." Your chest heaves, anger rising with every breath. "It's all a game to you, Matt. A sick, twisted game to keep yourself entertained."

"That's rich, coming from someone who played it just as well." He takes another step forward. You could reach out and touch him now he's that close. His grin grows. "Too bad your Ravenclaw figured it out before you could sink your teeth in too deep. Next time you see him, make sure to tell him I said you're welcome."

Your brows pinch—the blood in your veins screeching to a halt, backing up like New York traffic at a standstill. You feel it, hot and furious, rushing toward a place it can't go, clogged behind the wall of rage building up inside you—

"You're welcome?" You spit, a sharp snarl caught between clenched teeth. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

He's watching you, his eyes darting over your shoulder, fingers brushing over his lips like he's trying to dull that familiar smirk, that cruel little game he's always played.

Your stomach sinks, drops to your feet.

"Mattheo—" you snap, cutting him off just as he opens his mouth, before he can throw another snide word. "Spare me the cryptic bullshit for once in your life—“

His eyebrows lift at that, but there's a nod, a hint of something deeper in it. You taste the smugness in the air between you, can almost feel it slithering through his silence.

"Looks like you don't know everything after all. Isn't that ironic?" He straightens up, letting the moment breathe before his face hardens into something almost serious. "Your rebound came to me in the courtyard about two weeks ago. Had some questions about you."

"What?" Your nerves are vibrating, every cell in your body on edge. Your blood is so clogged, you swear you're seeing red. "What questions?"

"The usual sort of normal stuff. Your birthday. Your favorite colour. Childhood traumas. Our downfall. You know."

The casualty in the way he says it makes you sick, bile rising in your throat, a bitter burn at the back of your mouth. It's all starting to come together now. This stupid motherfucker—

"You're lying." The words feel weak, frail. He wouldn't—no, he couldn't. "You're fucking lying."

"Am I?" His fingers brush your cheek, but your skin's gone numb, your blood too frozen to feel anything but the cold burn of your fury. "Or, is the truth just…too much for your delicate ego to handle?"

Oh, fuck off—

Your wand is in your hand before you even realize you've grabbed it, instinct, pure reflex. There's barely a second of rational thought before you're casting, the spell hitting him square in the chest, sending him flying back into the chair he once sat in. His eyes flash, anger igniting there, and he scrambles for his wand—but you're faster.

"Expelliarmus."

One word and you're across the room before you even know you've moved, chest tight as you slam the tip of your wand against his throat. There's a cut on his lip, blood trickling down his chin for a second time tonight, but that stupid fucking smirk is still there, showcasing rubies for teeth and carved into his face like it belongs.

"Tell me what you did." Your voice cracks, but not from fear—it's fury, burgling through you, burning hot enough to make your whole body shake. You half want to cut him open just to bury your rage inside him, let him feel it. "If what you're saying is true, he ended things just days later. Tell me what the fuck you said to him."

Mattheo’s leaning back, hands raised in mock surrender, eyes glinting with the same smug amusement that's always haunted him. He's daring you, taunting you. He knows you never cared about that guy, not really.

You both know it. He was boring, easy.

This—this is something else.

His tongue swipes at the blood on his lip. "He didn't tell you—"

"Don't." Your wand digs deeper into his skin, cutting off whatever he was about to say. The pressure makes his breath hitch, but not enough. Not nearly enough. "I said tell me."

"Merlin—okay—I told him nothing, nothing really," his voice makes your grip tighten on your wand. He stares at you for a long, hard minute before he adds; "except that he should show me some fucking gratitude."

Your jaw slips, confusion rushing in like a flood. But before you can even question him—

"I told him he should be thanking me." Another pause. "When he's fucking you."

He laps at the blood seeping from the cut on his lip for the second time in only a minute and you barely notice the movement—the words hit you like a brick, but it's deeper than that, something visceral that crawls under your skin and settles in your bones. It's sharp, raw, cutting through the wall of rage so fast it leaves you breathless. You don't know how to explain it, this feeling that twists through you, something far too complicated to be named.

And then, you become aware of everything at once.

His legs, spread wide on either side of yours, the space between you so small, your chest just close enough to his face that his breath feels like it's fogging your skin. You're towering over him, wand pressed hard into his throat, your heart hammering in your chest like you're ready to ruin him—but his eyes, the way he looks up at you, says he'd let you.

"I may have even added that although you're with him, you'll always think of me. Both you and him know it’s true.“ That stupid smirk is gone, replaced with something you've never quite seen before. He pauses, before he continues. "You miss it. Us." Another pause. There’s something victorious in his tone, something that's almost breaking you. "And no matter how many times you try to forget, you never do, do you?"

Salazar save you—you should hex him. You should fucking hex him. Every nerve in your body is screaming for it, begging for it, but you can't. You can't fucking move. Your wand is still pressed to his skin, but it feels like you're the one pinned down.

"Shut up," you finally manage, but your voice is meek, thin, nothing like the fury you want to feel. "You...you're being—"

"I'll shut up," his hand finds your wrist, pressing your wand tip against his neck with more force—enough to make himself wince. "If you make me."

You blink, stunned, and you can feel your anger slipping, slipping faster than you can catch it. You don't know what's happening to you—it’s just him—his sick twisted insanity that disarms you. Time and time again. An endless fucking cycle.

"I could ruin you," you whisper, but it sounds more like you're trying to convince yourself than him. You press the wand deeper, just enough to draw a grunt from him, but the look on his face—he's not afraid. No, he's enjoying it. "I have more reasons than most to leave you here bloodied for Snape to find in the morning."

You say the words but the conviction is gone, swept away in the flood of heat between you—the dizzying proximity, the way his lips curl, almost smiling but not quite—

"What are you so afraid of?" He whispers, and there's something fragile in his voice now. "That you might actually want this?"

"I don't want this." You force the words out immediately, hoping they will make it real. Hoping they'll stop this spiral. "I regret ever wanting this."

He’s silent for a moment as he lowers his hands, dark eyes falling to trace your lips—

"I know you hate me, the feelings mutual...but I know. I know I'll always be your favourite regret," those chocolate curls shift, his head tilts closer, too close. Not close enough. "You're still my weapon of choosing."

Merlin. Merlin bloody forgive you—

"…to hurt yourself with?” It's half a question, but you already know the answer.

He nods, and that does it.

Your lips are on his, fast and hard and bruising—and the reaction is immediate, visceral. All that backed-up blood—all that rage frozen in your veins rushes forward in a single, scorching wave. It crashes low, between your thighs, a heat so sharp it aches. The shame comes with it. So does the disgust. A sick knot of self-hatred pulsing through you as you taste his blood on your tongue while his hands are under your skirt, grabbing you like he owns you, pulling you into him. It's only a moment before your wand clatters to the ground, and your hands are tangled in his hair, yanking hard, hard enough to hurt.

You want it to hurt. God, you want it to hurt.

He growls at the sting on his scalp—and then, everything flips.

His fingers tug at something, and you realize it's his own wand, the one you tucked into the back of your skirt—and before you can even think, he's got it, casting a spell that sends you flying back onto the desk behind you. You groan—the world spins, but you don't even have a second to gather yourself before he's advancing toward you, casting another spell on his tie.

Within seconds it's slithering across your lips and tying itself around your head, gagging you.

He steps between your legs, parts them with the ease of someone who's done it a thousand times before—rough hands gliding up your thighs, eyes wild. His fingers slip beneath your underwear, through your slit, and you try to hold on to any shred of control, but it's gone. You can feel it. The way you forget everything except the way he leans down, breath hot in your ear.

"Look how fucking wet you are," he spits through a sneering grin. "You're goddamn shameless, aren't you?"

You roll your eyes, but your thoughts scatter the moment his fingers shove inside you, curling hard—so hard you gasp into the tie, your back arching violently off the desk.

"He ever get you this wet?" His voice is like gravel, each word grinding into your bones. "Nod your head if he did."

Your body reacts before your mind does, arching against him, but you don't move your head. As much as it hurts your pride to give him that win. You dig your fingers into his hair and pull—hard enough to make him grunt, hard enough to hurt.

His hand comes down hard on your thigh in response, a sharp smack that stings, a warning. You squeal, and his fingers start pumping faster, deeper.

He huffs. "That's what I thought."

His fingers make quick work of you, relentless, and his thumb presses to your clit, rolling circles in a rhythm that has your blood on fire, shame licking at the edges of your vision, but it only makes you burn hotter. This is all wrong. Everything about this is wrong, something you'll regret with every fiber of your being tomorrow, but right now, it's an ache you need.

It's the wound you keep reopening, the pain you crave because it's the only thing that ever feels real.

"Fuck, you're close, aren't you?" He sounds almost shocked, like he can't believe how easily your body betrays you, but you feel it too, the disbelief crashing through you as fast as the pleasure does. Too fast. Far too fast. "Did he ever make you cum? Huh? When's the last time you fucking came?"

You can't answer, just groan, yanking at his hair again. His response is immediate, another stinging slap to your inner thigh, sharp enough to make fluid prick your eyes. Your orgasm is right there, teetering on the edge, ready to tip over—but then he slows his pace, dragging it out, torturing you.

You whine. A pitiful, desperate sound you hate yourself for.

"Look at me." His voice cuts through the haze, and begrudgingly, you do. "He didn't make you cum, did he?"

Your face burns, not from his breath or his fingers or even the astronomical amount of shame you feel—but from the truth of it. You shake your head.

"How long?" His voice shatters the air between you. "A week?"

You shake your head again, biting into the fabric of his tie as his fingers curl deeper inside you.

"Two weeks?"

Another shake. He curses under his breath.

"You poor little thing." His words are venom, but the second they spill from his lips, he pumps his fingers into you again, massaging at your walls, and your vision goes white. "Can't even cum without me."

You would've slapped him if you could, would've torn him apart, but the orgasm hits you like a freight train, ripping through you with violent force. You clench around his digits, thighs trembling as you ride the wave of pleasure, convulsing, moaning into the tie as he watches you like he's won.

"So fucking easy." He withdraws his fingers, and immediately, his hands go to his belt. "We'll make up for lost time."

Everything about this feels like a rerun. The same scene playing out on loop, again and again—a cycle of self-destruction you know too well, like running headfirst into a burning building, certain you can handle the smoke only to choke on it.

He's taking off his belt, ready to fuck you stupid, and by morning you'll be back to the same familiar hatred, tearing each other apart in new, inventive ways. Your hands move sluggishly to rip the tie from your mouth, but you're slow, too slow, still dizzy from the release that blindsided you, one that you haven't felt in so long—the fabric barely grazes your fingers before Mattheo catches your wrists, yanking them back, dragging you to your feet in one rough motion.

The spin disorients you—arms pinned behind your back, his cock sliding between your thighs.

"You've done enough talking today," he hisses at your ear as he drags along your slit. "You want this, don't you?"

Your mind screams for you to shake your head, to end this here and now. You know he'd stop—he's an asshole, but not that kind of an asshole. You know it. You almost do it, almost say the word that would shatter this madness. But then he drags his tip against your clit and you moan before you can stop yourself.

Your head nods with a wanton moan, and it's so full of shame your eyes sting with tears.

"Yeah, I know, baby." He's taunting you, every syllable smug, condescending. "This pussy missed me so much, huh?" His hand tightens on your wrists until your skin burns, the other hand finding its way around your thigh, pulling you closer to him. "Fuckin' lost without me. S'all it's good for, isn't it? Taking my cock."

You groan, shaking your head in defiance, but even that feels like a lie. You hate him. You want him. You hate yourself for wanting him.

"No?" His fingers inch toward your clit, ghosting over it—you squeal, hips jerking for more. "Maybe we should call this off then?"

You blink once and his fingers are gone—wrenching a whine out of you, pathetic as you push your ass back against him, shame burning through you as you shake your head. Fuck him. Curse him. But you need him inside you, need him to fill the aching void that gnaws at you.

"That's my slut," he growls, and before you can process the words, he's inside you—one long, brutal thrust that spears you open, the stretch burning deep. The sting mixes with shock of his fingers returning to your clit, rubbing circles that make your knees buckle. "You know you're the only girl I've fucked raw? This pussy will always be mine."

He's fucking insane. Completely insane. And the worst part is, you're just as insane for wanting him. For needing him. You can't fight it. You don't even want to. Not now. Not when his voice drips like poison and he's tearing you apart in the only way you understand.

"Mmmf—" you groan into the tie and he's matching you, his teeth grazing your shoulder, marking you in ways that will last for days.

"I hope it hurts," he grumbles against your skin, his breath ragged. He's lying, you can feel it in the way his fingers are moving, coaxing you to cum, even as he pretends to wish you pain. "I hope it fucking stings."

Your hands ball into fists, trapped in his grip, and you imagine clawing at his back until you draw blood, sinking your nails in until he feels every ounce of your anger.

"I want you to feel it—fuck—I want you to remember this," he pants, his voice barely more than a growl as your climax crashes toward you, unstoppable now. "Remember how weak I make you. How much of a slut you are for me."

Another harsh thrust and then, you're there—falling into the void—pleasure is so strong it bleeds out of you, forcing your cunt to clamp tight around him, legs trembling, barely able to support you through it. Mattheo’s curses slip through clenched teeth, but this only fuels him—his rhythm picks up, brutal, hips slamming against your ass with a pace that borders on unhinged.

"Fuck. Oh, fuck." The words are barely audible, grunted against the shell of your ear. You're whining, still twitching with aftershocks, but he doesn't care. His hands are on your hips now, fingers digging deep as he thrusts you forward, slamming you over the desk. The wood bites into your palms as you try to brace yourself, but his anger is palpable, drilling into you— "you wanna bitch at me now?"

The moan you release is automatic, instinctual. You can't stop it. Can't control it. His fingers curl around your throat, shifting the tie down to shove two into your mouth.

"Hhhhh—" you're trying to form words around his fingers, but it's impossible. The garbled sound is pathetic, but he knows exactly what you're trying to say.

"You hate me. I know." It’s smug, punctuated by a sharp smack to your ass, the sting of it making you yelp. He pulls his fingers from your mouth, wiping the spit across your cheek before he grips your jaw, forcing your head to turn, to meet his eyes. "Open your mouth."

There's no time to process the demand. His eyes are molten, crazed, filled with something raw and uncontainable. His next thrust is punishing, slamming into your cervix, making you sob—your mouth parting just enough—

He leans in close, and then he spits into your mouth.

"Swallow it." His fingers dig into your cheeks, pressing the order into your bones. "Be a good girl for once."

You choke out a laugh, even as you're panting, even as he's splitting you stupid.

"Never." The word barely leaves your lips before you’re spitting back at him—your entwined saliva landing across his chin and lips.

For a second, you expect the worst—you brace yourself for the retaliation—the slap, the insult, the way he'll tighten his grip and take back control. But to your surprise, instead of anger, there's a grin—wide and feral, big and crazed enough to reach his eyes.

You smile back. His cock twitches inside you.

"Fuck me," he mutters, then crashes his mouth to yours.

You taste the salt and bitterness of mingled spit, a mess of his and yours, and it pulls a moan from somewhere deep inside you. He devours it, greedy, his hips growing erratic, sloppy as his high nears.

His hand drops to your clit, fingers pressing with a precision that obliterates every last shred of sanity—and it takes only moments before the pressure builds again, fast and furious. Your third orgasm rips you apart, your body clenching tight, muscles seizing as you're lost in it. You're not sure where you end and he begins—your breath congealing with his, your moans swallowed in the space between you.

His release follows right after, crashing over him as he buries himself deep, spilling into you with a groan that reverberates through your bones. You hate the way it feels. You hate the way he fills you. But you also can't deny the twisted satisfaction of it—the way you sought this punishment, needed it. The shame consumes you, but it's comforting in its familiarity.

He pulls out, and the silence between you is easy, broken only by your ragged breathing. The room feels impossibly small now, your body still thrumming with the aftermath, but the moment is over. You both start to move—piecing yourselves back together, pulling clothes into place, avoiding the weight of what just happened.

You don't understand how it came to this, how it always does, but you're not surprised. Not anymore.

After a long, silent moment, he looks at you. “I don’t regret what I did.”

You know he doesn’t.

“I know.”

He blinks. “I won’t apologize for it.”

You know he won’t.

“I know.”

He nods, now, a smirk on his lips as he watches you fix your skirt. You note the hair sticking to his forehead, how he’s still catching his breath even though he’s pretending he isn’t.

“You aren’t mad.” An observation.

“I’m not.” You reply. You know you should be, but the relief you felt when that Ravenclaw ended things tells you everything you need to know. “Just, never do it again.”

He nods again. “Sure.”

You’re pretty sure he doesn’t mean that—but, at least now, as you glance over at him, there's a small comfort in knowing you no longer want to kill him.

[yougavememyopia]

Tags: Manipulative masochistic yandere, mean annoyed reader, stalking, yandere behavior, isolating, cursing, hair pulling, choking, he does a lot of stuff without consent.

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"Hellooo~? There you are. I've been looking all over for you. Where have you been? Don't tell me you're avoiding me..." Your stalker whined in that annoying tone, making you roll your eyes almost instinctively. "Because I'll be really, really sad."

You shifted on the grass you were sitting on, debating on whether to stay or flee. It didn't matter. He would follow you around until you gave in and talked to him.

He sat beside you, too close for comfort. You finally looked at him as he made a small whimpering noise. You knew that indicated him crying crocodile tears if you continued your negligence. "You're driving me insane with your bullshit."

"Aww, are you getting tired of little ol' me?" He smirked. He knew you hated when he acted all cocky, so he decided to pout instead. Looking up at you with a soft, innocent look. "But... but I've done so much for your attention. Look, I even wore this pretty sweater for you."

"I don't give a shit. It's not going to change my view of you. You're a fucking nutcase. It doesn't matter what you do, I'm still gonna reject you."

His face fell. A blank look on his face. It was always scary when he showed no emotion. Like you were getting a glimpse of his true self. You shifted your gaze away, unable to control the shivers you got. Were you too harsh? He always acted so fake. You could never tell what he actually thought.

"You say that, but you'll miss me. I'm the most interesting person around!" His cute smile returned. He clasped his hands together and brought it up to his cheek. "You won't admit it because of your big ego. But I know. Under your cold exterior, there's a softie."

"If I want you around, it's not because of that. It's because of your psychological manipulation, dumbass. The love bombing? Ring a bell?"

"Ah, so you admit it! You do care about me! You want me around. I'm your favorite, right~?" He leaned his cheek into his hand. Batting his eyelashes at you to drive you more crazy. "Might as well go ahead and accept me. I'm not going anywhere. You're not going anywhere. It's meant to be!"

"Ughhh, fuck!" You cursed, slapping your forhead. He did this often; twisting your words into something totally different. "Every single fucking day. It's the same thing. You and your delusions. You won't accept my rejections."

"Then we'd never be together." He commented. He furrowed his eyebrows to show confusion, putting his hands on his lap. "We've come so far already. And I know one day, we'll finally be together! Who knows, maybe today is the day."

His head tilted, and he smiled brightly at you. The gesture making your blood boil. He knew how to act right, to seem more attractive to you. His practiced smile and the quiet mumbled voice drew you in. The weirdly submissive side of him appealed to you. As if he was waiting for you to finally take control of him.

Despite all that, you couldn't look past the creepy things he has done. There were the "coincidental" meetings he admitted to being stalking, stating how he couldn't be apart from you for so long or how he was bored without you. The small souvenirs that he collected, like your hairclip, to put on his hair, or even the bigger items that he took, like your hoodie, to wear and show how he was yours. He tried to isolate you as much as he could. Sticking close to you wherever you went. Finding sneaky ways to get rid of other people around you. His unhealthy obsession was slowly ruining your life.

You've gotten used to it all. Not fazed if he did something stupid for your attention. He tricked you into going on dates with him so many times. You were practically dating. It was hard to admit it to yourself, but you had a soft spot for him. For some weird reason, you enjoyed his company. You enjoyed playing with him. He was entertaining. Interesting.

He suddenly crawled behind you, his hands grasping your shoulders. "You're so tense." He leaned in to your ear and whispered. "You've been on edge for a few days now. Do I really scare you that much?"

You scoffed. "What do you think?"

"Please, I'm harmless! I should help you relax. Treat you to a nice massage." He began to rub your shoulders and slowly moved closer to your neck. His hands worked skillfully to press against your tensed muscles. Drawing circles and kneading your flesh. "Maybe more physical intimacy will help. Something different, perhaps?"

He took advantage of your lack of fight and relaxed state. Throwing his arms around your waist, hugging you from behind. His face nuzzled against the crook of your neck as he inhaled and breathed out a sigh. "I love your smell. I gotta buy your perfume. Well, I have your clothes, so it's kinda the same thing. I never get tired of smelling you~"

"Seriously?" You mumbled. Your skin pickled from his warm breath. The feeling of him sniffing you with his nose brushing against your sensitive skin gave you small shivers. His grip on you grew tighter as you tried to move. His grasp on you almost suffocating. You kick the grass in exasperation. "Augh... Fuck you."

"Is that a promise~?" He giggled and rubbed his nose against your neck more deliberately. "I love the way you talk to me. Always so aggressive. So passionate~ You only act this way towards me. Like I'm special to you."

"Haah..." You clenched the grass beside you. Fingers poked with their pointy heads while you hold onto your anger. "You always do what you want. I never gave you permission to hug me."

"You need it. It'll calm you down. Take away all that stress. And! And.. I give the best hugs ever." He squeezed you tight against his chest. "But if that's not working, I can always try something else. Something that feels even better."

Before you could protest, he began to kiss your neck. Placing long, soft kisses against your skin. Finding the right spots that made you shudder. "Ah...! Hey-?!?"

You struggled against him, but he was determined. Weirdly strong for his short stature. His hands pulled your shirt lower so he could have more access. Kissing along your neck to your shoulder. His tongue joined in between the pecks. It brushed over your skin, coating everywhere with saliva. He lapped at your skin, drawing a line from the bottom of your neck all the way up. Goosebumps covered your body. Your cursing and protests still being ignored.

You reached a hand up to his hair, pulling it, trying to get him to stop. "You're crazy! Let me go."

"Nngh!" He moaned out. You couldn't win with him. Anything you did, he loved. Treating him like garbage or ignoring him completely. He was utterly devoted to you. "Oh, that felt good. Do it again. But harder. Pretty please~"

"Fucking masochist. How did I end up with someone so messed up?" You tugged his hair again, more firmer this time, making him moan louder. He started doing different things to your neck, sucking and nibbling on the skin. You couldn't control the small grunting noises from spilling. "I swear, if you leave a mark, I'll choke you to death-!"

He seemed to like the threat. His movements becoming frantic. He was definitely leaving a mark. Just to despite you. "Mmh~ Feels good..." His hands started to rub under your shirt. His nails digging into your skin.

He panted against your neck as you stopped. You rubbed his scalp instead, enjoying the feeling of his soft, well-cared hair between your fingers. He nuzzled against you, hugging you loosely. "Ahh... You didn't struggle as much as I thought. Did I change your mind? Do you believe me now when I say that I won't ever leave? Oh, that reminds me. I think it's about time I move in with you."

"What the fuck are you going on about?" You sighed in annoyance. His love was driving you insane. There was so much a person could take until they compromised with the weirdo who wouldn't leave them alone.

"Oh, come on! I've been waiting forever. I'm moving my stuff in first thing in the morning."

You pushed him away with force. Pinning his shoulders to the ground and climbing on top of him. "You're makin' me really angry. I don't want you around. Why can't you get that through your thick skull?"

He chuckled, looking up at you. "I'm not giving up on us. Ever. You're stuck with me whether you like it or not. Plus, you've got nobody else to turn to, remember?"

"Ughh." Your hands close around his throat with force. "You act this way to provoke me. You enjoy this. Do you get off when I do these things to you? Hm? Is this what you want? I can't believe I actually fell for you. Good-for-nothing stalker."

He arched his back and closed his eyes, humming slightly. He was enjoying every second of this. You tightened your grip. The lack of oxygen making him squirm underneath you, but he knew you'd never kill him. His hands grabbed your knees. He just had to touch you in some way. Clingy as ever.

"I wanna do something that'll make you speechless for once. You're always doing unexpected things to me. Well, how about this?" You leaned down and kissed him. Pushing him further down and roughly shoving your tongue past his lips. Secretly, it was an excuse for you to be reminded of the sweet cherry taste in his mouth. You knew he did it on purpose to lure you in.

This wasn't your first kiss. He frequently planted small pecks on your cheeks and "accidentally" on your mouth. Though, after the second time, it was obvious he was doing it on purpose. While you kept protesting, you couldn't deny the spark you felt when your lips met. It felt good— unfortunately, it seemed like this batshit crazy guy was your only option left.

"We'll see about that. I bet I can change your mind." He commented, leaning his cheek to your hands and chuckling. "I have a few compelling arguments. I can cook. I can clean. I can do anything you want me to. So, won't you please reconsider? Pretty please?"

He groaned softly, relaxing and allowing you to do whatever you wanted with him. Kissing you back with passion and true devotion. He always emphasized how he was yours to use. You pulled away to look at the smirk on his face, your hands cupping his cheeks. Squishing them together. "Don't look so happy. This doesn't mean I'm accepting you. I just, sometimes, like using you. But you're not moving in."

Pt. 2

[sabertoothwalrus]

There’s something I love love loveeee about Laios and how badly he wants to be cool.

Let me preface with this: in general, I believe the harder you try to be cool, the less cool you actually are. The less you care what people think about you, if you’re “cringe” or “weird”, the more likely people will perceive you as confident and self-assured.

There are countless pieces of media where characters try to fit in with some group, change every part of themself to look/act like what they’re “supposed” to be, and end up miserable, often realizing the people they’re trying to impress aren’t worth the trouble.

I’ve experienced this in my own life too! Sometimes when I go out I wear a rainbow propeller cap! Cause I think it’s funny and silly and!! I ALWAYS get compliments!! I don’t wear it to be cool, I wear it because it makes me happy. And people overall have a positive reaction to it. it’s a huge contrast to when I was teenager and didn’t really put as much of myself into my appearance/wardrobe, and barely left any kind of impression on people.

So anyway, let’s get into it.

Laios… he’s been hurt so badly by people. He resented humanity for it. And yet, he still yearns for the approval of others. He wants FRIENDS!!!! and was angry and frustrated to learn his perception of his relationship with Shuro was so drastically different than Shuro’s!!!!

He KNEW that people were put-off by his love of monsters. Up until Falin got eaten, he deliberately suppressed how much he talked about it with others. He probably thought by not talking about monsters so much, it was working!! He was doing all the Right Things now! So Shuro confessing he always hated him was a huge blow.

But the reality is, he loves monsters. And most importantly, he loves cool monsters. He fantasizes about what would make the Ultimate Monster.

He feels very strongly about what he considers “cool” as well. He finds all aspects of monsters fascinating, but can still be HORRIBLY underwhelmed when they look too lame for his tastes.

He knows most people don’t feel the same way he does. He knows his “cool” is everyone else’s “weird”. It’s so tragically sweet how he latches onto Kabru the moment he shows interest in monsters, and takes every opportunity to infodump about them to him.

He wants people to find monsters as cool as he does!! But, he also wants people to think he’s as cool as he finds monsters.

Like!!! djkfghadkfjg IT DOESN'T EVEN BOTHER HIM WHEN PEOPLE HAVE A WRONG IMPRESSION OF HIM! He's FLATTERED by it. It's almost like, at this point, it doesn't matter to him if people don't like him. People can not like him and still think he's cool.

And my favorite thing is, it works. Laios IS cool as fuck. You KNOW he thought he looked so badass when he did this and he was RIGHT:

And yet, this is him trying very hard to look cool. But it's Laios's version of cool. It's almost contradictory, in that sense. Cause he knows people still don't get it. Like. He wants to be cool. He doesn't care about the "normal" ways to be cool. He thinks his cringe thing is cool. He does his cringe thing, that people very much do still think is cringe. So you would think that, since he wants people to think he's cool, he would not do the cringe thing. But he wore the pelt because he thought it was cool. And people clapped and cheered for him anyway.

is what he's doing really so different than this? ^

YAYYYYY WOOO GO LAIOS YOURE SO COOL!!!!!!!