#it makes me feel just a LITTLE better about life

[angelsforthenight]

screen babe, mean babe, guess who’s gonna cream babe! (pt 2)

camgirl!vi x reader (read pt 1 here)

summary: after an abysmal night, you know who PinkSage really is. you want to loathe her, yet you can’t seem to escape vi’s agonising game, especially underneath the guttural heat of your city’s sun.

pre a/n: yaaawl if ur expecting smut in this chapter then i’m sorry but not yet 🙁🙁 i want to drag s.m.g out longer than i did with my last ellie series so you’re gonna have to wait until the next chapter. sometimes a slow burn can be so much better and worth it in the end, i promise! hope you guys still enjoy <3

content: AAAANGST, vi is really mean, very slight slut-shaming, cursing, crying, playful!vi, teasing! this entire chapter is a huge tease, vi is extroverted, difficult goddamn lesbians, some painful yearning, some cute moments, vi’s got one point up in this chap but we’ll see how that’ll go…

“i know who you are.”

your eyes persist in hers: as if trying to burrow yourself inside them and make yourself known.

vi, irritated as is, raises her brows and shakes her head; urging for you to elaborate. you have no idea where your boldness came from, but you find yourself continuing.

“PinkSage. y-you’re PinkSage, i watch you all the time i—“ vi’s face does a whole u-turn, the colour draining from her face.

“hold on, shut the fucking door first!” she hisses frantically. you flinch into obeying her. when you turn back around, your heart sinks at the disgusted look on vi’s face. maybe you hadn’t thought this one through.

“the fuck were you thinking? saying that shit whilst your parents are sleeping right there?” she whisper-scolds, storming towards you. you back away until you’re up against your door. yeah… what exactly were you thinking was going to happen? for your favourite cam-girl to immediately get on her knees and start eating you out? of course this moment hadn’t gone as you expected.

“huh? you just gonna stand there like a dumbass after revealing that shit? you of all people?” vi continues, her voice raising. she’s so enraged! as if it’s your fault that the woman you’re supposed to idolise happened to stay in your house. it’s only a fucked-up coincidence. your lips quiver as you find your voice.

“you— you’re being too loud.” are the only words that you can think of to say. vi stares at you in disbelief.

“… my parents are sleeping after all, right?” you mutter, looking away. vi is scowling so much she may as well pop a vein.

“hah. you’re a sick fucking freak.” she laughs dryly, shaking her head incredulously. though your gaze flicks up to her; bewildered and hurt, you’re not just going to let her talk down on you like this. not when what vi does is worse.

“you spread your legs for, like, a million pervs online. i don’t think you have the right to talk.” you snap whilst your voice trembles. here’s to thinking the world of PinkSage…

“pervs including your dull ass.” vi scoffs.

“watch your mouth, unless you’d like to sleep in the streets.”

“oh yeah? and what would you explain to your parents?” vi’s lips twitch into a grin, “mommy, daddy! kick vi out because i jerk off to her online but she’s being mean to me in real life!” she mocks, her voice lilting into a higher-pitched tone. your instinct is to push her in order to shut her mouth. vi only stumbles a little, but she glares at you as if you’ve thrown tomato juice all over her white top.

“fuck you.” you’re about to leave until something comes over you, feeling compelled to say one last thing. let her sit with this shit.

“and for your information, last time you streamed? you orgasmed to my name. your_user? yeah, that was me.”

you relish in the way vi’s expression mellows into one of astonishment. she’s dumbfounded and silent.

“sleep with that, bitch.” you spit, hastily slipping back to your room. you would’ve slammed the door if it wasn’t going to wake your parents up. your mother sleeps with one eye open and any noise would have her rising from her bed as if she’s a vampire.

once you make it back to your room, you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. you’re trembling: entire body buzzing from head to toe with adrenaline and fury.

two steps closer to your bed and you feel a glob of tears swell in your throat, shooting up to your eyes. they are quick to rivulet down your cheeks like a torrent, and you intake a shuddering breath, coated with phlegm. afraid of vi hearing you next door, you immediately cover your mouth.

you jump into your bed, too arrogant to admit that the reason why you’re sobbing in your pillow is because you’re upset. you’re fucking pissed is what you are, embarrassed that you even said anything — and that vi had the gall to respond like that. whereas a week ago you would’ve praised PinkSage as if she were a saint, you’re sitting here wondering who the fuck this woman thinks she is.

of course famous people are dickheads in real life. you should’ve expected this. you fiercely wipe your tears, yanking your covers over your head. at least you were able to have the last word. you think about the look on her face, hoping she feels just as stupid as you do.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

it’s the morning that’s downright awful. you woke up too early, and now you’re forced out of your will to sit with your family and vi to eat breakfast.

your parents are trying so hard to impress her and you hate it. they’ve even gone the extra length of setting a table in your backyard, spread neatly over the stone ground. you don’t remember there being this much food in your house, let alone the gingham cloth fanned over the table. as if this breakfast is a special occasion. they must think vi is a goddamn prodigy! they find it to be groundbreaking how can she be oh so sweet volunteering for animals and taking care of them, and how she works out a lot and that tattoo on her face…

you chew your food slowly, glaring daggers at her as she compliments your mother’s cooking with her mouth full. meanwhile you would’ve gotten scolded for doing that! you’re being petty and stifling: insanely moody in this delicate summer morning. how could you not? you were in tears because of her audacity last night!

you bet if your parents found out what vi really does, your dad wouldn’t suggest playing basketball with her, and your mother wouldn’t be asking her all these stupid, prodding questions. ones like, “vi, do you have a boyfriend? o-or a girlfriend! if that’s what you prefer?”

you two make eye contact then. a split second, but it was palpable like an electric current zipping up your spine. you’re the first to look away; suddenly interested in swirling your fried egg around, smearing the yolk.

“nah. not interested in that stuff.” she replies dismissively, cool as a cucumber, because everything about her is cool! peachy! you prick your bacon with your fork hard, bringing it up to your lips as you flicker a glance at vi once more. since she’s not paying attention anymore, your eyes decide to fixate on the slope of her nose, shimmering from the light mixed with shadows that are dancing from the leaves above.

vi mutters something indignantly to your father, something you don’t hear because she suddenly steps on your foot under the table. hard. you accidentally let out a gasp that’s a little too loud, obliging everyone else to stop what they’re doing to glance up at you. they definitely forgot that you were even here. you glare at vi, who’s looking away as if she hadn’t just done that on purpose. are we suddenly little kids now? did she wake up completely overturned? ready to be an upbeat ray of sunshine after rudely shutting you down last night?

“everything okay?” dad raises a brow. vi only pretends to be curious, furrowing her brows and pouting, a faint jeering expression for your eyes only. what is she trying to play at? this isn’t just mere playfulness. this is something else.

“yeah, fine.” you murmur. you’re ready to push your chair back and leave until you hear your mother.

“oh, y/n can take you. she knows her way around the area better than any of us.” you freeze.

“what?” you brow quirks into a look of foul disdain. especially because vi looks like a grinning dog at your mother’s suggestion.

“you guys can even take the bikes!” dad chimes in enthusiastically. you want the skies above to open up and take you away. right here, right now.

“but—“

“i would love to go with you.” vi beams. that wretched look on her face, full of mischief and lies. the sun on her face isn’t exactly helping either. it’s all a cruel taunt: the way it kisses her face, the way it highlights her plush lips curved into that sweet, deceitful smile. she could be the sun herself… if she wasn’t so obnoxious. yet you find yourself relenting, giving a speck of yourself away to the woman who gets under your skin. you force yourself to stare at the wooden ridges of the table instead of the sunlight dancing on vi’s features.

“…fine. where to?”

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

the lazy july sun is beating down on you mercilessly. vi’s wearing a baseball cap, but you? you were too pissed off and stubborn to listen to your mother’s advice on wearing a hat. so now you’re suffering.

you’re steering down the tree-lined dirt track with your bike. though it’s so damn hot, you really do appreciate the beauty that summer brings along: how everything appears so bright and awake. you won’t pretend that it can’t be suffocating however, especially when you have a certain pink-haired someone riding a bike behind you, distinctly aware of her eyes boring down your back.

vi slightly quickens so she’s right beside you, you side-eye her.

“who says that theres space for the both of us?” your words may as well have a double meaning. vi grins. there is actually enough space, you just don’t want her next to you.

“i did. you’re so sweaty you’re glowing by the way.”

“aw, thank you.” you sneer at her before picking up the pace.

“hey, wait! i was fucking around!” she chuckles, following you down the road.

you guys ride until you’re in the city: bustling with people and markets. mothers are dragging their screaming kids, men are oozing with sweat; grumbling as they push past people. you’re jealous of those passing by that are able to fan their faces. vi parks her bike, but you don’t.

“well, it has been lovely escorting you.” you mutter sarcastically, gripping the handlebars.

“what? you’re not staying? what makes you think i know my way around?” vi counters. she looks so puzzled, like a puppy. you swallow, seeming to crumble just a little more when you look at her face for too long.

“um, i didn’t know you wanted a tour… but fine.”

you two walk along the markets. vi has quite some time before she’s called in for work so she wanted to familiarise herself with the city beforehand. at first, you guys hardly talk, simply following vi as she wanders about instead: watching as her eyes glint at the vintage trinkets and antiques they sell in stalls.

you feel like a clamshell stalling quietly behind her, as she eagerly chats with quite literally anyone. she’s so extroverted! it’s begrudgingly interesting watching her communicate, her delivery of words smooth and clear, making anyone hang onto her words like rope.

there’s too many people in this narrow path, and too much pushing. you don’t want to lose yourself in the crowd, so you helplessly tug on vi’s sleeve. vi glances back.

“you good?” she keeps walking with you continuing to use her sleeve as leverage. it’d be a mess if you guys were to randomly stop now, with this sea of people that have clearly got places to be.

“yeah, i just don’t wanna lose you.” you reply, realising too late how weird that just sounded. vi, jovial as she already has been, only smiles wider. you quickly back-pedal.

“m-my parents would kill me if i were to lose our guest, you know?”

“here.” you all but expected for vi to lace her fingers into yours, holding your hand as you continue to slink through the masses of people. why is she being like this? was last night completely erased from her head, or does she just not care that much? you stare at the back of her head, as if that’ll give you answers. you secretly enjoy the warmth of her hand, subtly pressing your palm further into hers. vi doesn’t notice. good.

you guys find yourself in a music shop. this, after all the other markets and shops you’ve visited, finally has captured your keen interest. you come here all the time, the main source of all your cds in your room.

your eyes sparkle when your fingers stumble across one you’ve always wanted. limited edition, and it has a holographic cover too! how sick is that?

however, the excitement quickly fades when you remember that because you were stuck in your cloud of fitful anger, you ended up forgetting your wallet at home. you palm your pockets, making sure it miraculously doesn’t just so happen to be there… but nope. nothing.

“boo.” you feel the hotness of her mouth hard by your ear before you even register anything else. you squirm away, glowering at her only to be met with a cheeky smile back. vi’s already got a whole bag of stuff! how nice that must be.

“you gonna buy that?” vi points her gaze at the cd in your hands. you slot it back in the genre section. “i don’t have money, left it at home.” you mumble.

vi snorts, “you’re a real smart one, ain’t ya?”

“shut up. go pay for that and i’ll wait outside.” you grumble, practically storming out the door. you’ve never met anyone quite like vi. she’s so playful, and stupid and sweet, hot and mean all at the same time: getting under your skin in the worst way imaginable. the memory of PinkSage feels like it’s slipping from your fingers like sand.

vi comes back a moment later, smacking a cd down in your hands and walking ahead like nothing happened. you stare at her confusedly, but your eyebrows quickly rest in realisation as you gaze down at the cd. it’s the same one you wanted. your stomach betrays you by fluttering and then churning intensely.

“hey.” you call out, making vi stop.

“what’s your deal? why’d you buy this for me?” you grip the cd, heart beating like a live wire. vi turns around and walks closer to you. branches are singing from the breeze, seagulls are cawing, but you can’t hear anything. not when your full focus is on her. not when she’s walking so close it’s as if she’s going to step right through you.

“‘cause i saw how much you wanted it. you were gleaming.” she shrugs. how casual she must be, whilst your heart is pounding to the rhythm of her syllables. vi-o-let. why must you treat me this way?

“it’s no big deal.” she stares at you blankly up and down. you point your view downwards, focusing on the ladybug that’s started to crawl on your shoe. a kind respite from vi’s torturous gaze.

“why… why are you being so nice? after wh-what happened last night?” curse your sudden nervousness.

vi might as well close the gap between the pair of you, gentle fingers tilting your chin up to direct your gaze on her. oh, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.

“because you’re my biggest fan.” vi stretches out her words, soft and punishing. this godforsaken woman… you could quite literally die on her feet. your brain short-circuits and then switches off. especially when you witness vi’s gaze flickering to your lips. your breathing quickens, and it feels like your body isn’t yours anymore. you may as well be a floating bubble.

until vi takes her hat off and puts it on your head instead, patting it. “come on, let’s skedaddle. you don’t think our bikes got stolen, do you?” she jogs ahead, whilst you stand here like a dumbass, the cd lying limply in your hands.

this is a brutal penance worser than last night. vi did that on purpose, to see your reaction, and now that she’s got her fill, she’s going back to pretending as if nothing happened. how unsparing. how cruel.

you force yourself to drag your feet, one feet after the other towards vi. your head is lagging behind, still stuck on her touch.

a/n: some of u might hate me for this 😅😅👅👅👅 but oh my god u guys are in a DOOZY for chapter three i’m literally trembling thinking about writing it ughhhfhdhhd once again lmk if u wanna be added to the taglist but also some of u guys need to check that ur mentions are on or else i can’t tag! :< anywhooo sorry that this chapter was a little shorter but did anyone else clock the cmbyn tea…

taglist: @marvelwomenarehot0 @ghgygd @jupitism @reneesub @cotrill09 @itzsky82 @elliesbabygirl @adora-moonshine @maxinephobia @ch3sire-blu3 @krilara @perrzs @thankynext @zaunite-516 @eren-luvr @cpt-prices-leftnipple @goticapomposa @lolitalovess @moonchildcovenxx @spicedcherrylolli @mystar-girl57 @mar1posita @avonnimimi @kirajess @caitvisgirl @heyy-lovey @antobooh @jajsnjz @beachaddict48 @aceywaycy @sleepingwasp @elliezlils11utt @vincinnamontoast @runawaybaby3 @h0n3yf0rlif3 @iluvwomensm

[uyuforu]

Part of Fortune in Solar Return Chart Houses

©uyuforu All Rights Reserved; Do not copy work.

Pictures from my personal Instagram (@/softnae), Dividers from Tumblr; Credit go to owner.

Literally saw no posts about it and thought it was a duty to at least make one! I hope you'll enjoy this content, as always thank you a lot for your support <3

PRIVATE BOOKING

email adress: tarotjunoboda@gmail.com

Soft To You presentation and Q&A ᡣ𐭩 rules ᡣ𐭩 private readings reviews

astrology menu ᡣ𐭩 tarot menu ᡣ𐭩 special astrology & tarot readings

support the creator (tip): paypal ⟡ buy me a coffee

⭑.ᐟ Part of Fortune in the Solar Return Chart represent our luckiest event of the year, where we will be the most lucky, where will we have the most abundances, and where the happiest event of the year will take place, etc.

⋆˙⟡ Part of Fortune in 1H

POF in this house could be about having a luck when it comes to your appearance this year. You could have a glow up, feel more confident about your appearance this year. You could either feel more good looking, feel like you do your make up better, or you can learn new skills about how you do your appearance, how your present yourself. You could also perhaps have the sensation you are more attractive to others this year. This could also be related to face, hair, body, outfits, etc. You could also draw more attention to yourself, people can stare at you more this year, and you can also have a feeling you are more popular.

⭑.ᐟ The year I had this placement, I got a glow up physically, used better make up products, my hair got more beautiful, and I knew how to present myself in a more feminine way. And it wasn't truly one of my goal, it just happened naturally. I also got more attention physically, meaning that I was often found more attractive physically.

⋆˙⟡ Part of Fortune in 2H

POF in the 2H can make one have more luck this year with money. You could feel like you handle money in a better way this year, but you can also have more opportunities to make more money. This can be a year where you feel like you ar happy with your money situation, you could also have more luck so that means if you struggle this year, you could have an easy time to come up with a solution. You can feel more stable when it comes to money as well, but also feel more stable in general in your life. This can be a good year to gain money as well, in a sense that you can get a raise, you can also get money more easily. You attract abundance this year.

⋆˙⟡ Part of Fortune in 3H

POF in the 3H is a sign of having more social interactions this year, perhaps meeting more people. It can also be you being more popular in general, such as having often people texting you, writing you, call you, etc. You could spent a lot of time on social medias, and perhaps get more attention online, it can also be you having people interact with your contents more. You could feel like you are more extrovert this year, talking to a lot of people online, and you can also feel like you can learn more languages or informations this year. You can meet more people online, but so you can learn more knowledges as well.

⭑.ᐟ The year is had this placement, I had a little more popularity online, at least I noticed this is the year I got more attention online for me, like not for a specific content. I also got a very flourishing social life.

⋆˙⟡ Part of Fortune in 4H

POF in the 4H could mean you could have more luck when it comes to your house, and home. This could be a year where you can move in in a place you really like, but also a time where you can feel like things are more peaceful at home as well. You could feel better in your home, perhaps stay home more often because it becomes a strong safe place to you. You can also invite more people in your home this year. You could have better relationships with your family, and perhaps your mother as well. You can also have more luck if you are searching for a new home or if you want to get pregnant. This can be a good year also to stay at home, but also you could enjoy loneliness more as well.

⭑.ᐟ The year I had this placement, I reconnected with my dad after 3-4 years of not speaking, I also had a very good relationship with him afterwards, and I also got a good relationship with my mother. I moved out of my house for the first time.

⋆˙⟡ Part of Fortune in 5H

POF in the 5H could be about having a better luck this particular year when it comes to friends, you can feel like you are more extroverted, and get more attentions. You can also feel more popular and seen tis year. This can be also a time where you feel like you have more flirts, more romantic interactions. You can go on many dates, have many suitors. You can also feel more creative as well, perhaps you can have any great ideas in general, you can start projects based on those ideas, but if you already are in a creative field, this is a, excellent year for that. You can also have more hobbies, or feeling like you should dive deep into those. You could also be feeling more optimistic this year, have more fun, have more opportunities to go out and be happy.

⋆˙⟡ Part of Fortune in 6H

POF in the 6H can be a sign where you have more work opportunities, perhaps you can find a new job, or another job, you can also work better, be more productive. You can also have more rewards when it comes to your job, how you work, and you can be noticed for your hard work. You can get a raise, get a promotion, you can also get new opportunities when it comes to your career in general. This placement can also suggest you can also have better care when it comes to your health. This can go from the physical health, having an excellent health, wanting to work out more, etc. To also having a better mental health. You could also go to therapy, and decide to improve your day to day routine as well. This can be a good year to also adopt a pet if you desire it. You can also decide to do a lot of self care this year.

⋆˙⟡ Part of Fortune in 7H

POF in the 7H can be a sign of entering in a relationship if you are single, you could meet someone you have a good connection with. Though POF is about luck and good things, so often you can meet potential partners you feel like are doing you good. But it doesn't necessarily means you'll be with them, or you will be into a relationship. This can also be a sign of having a better relationship with your current partner, creating happy and good memories together. But also this could totally be more about you learning valuable lessons about relationships and connections. You can realize some things about your relationships and how you are into them, and you can decide to work on those patterns. This is a good time to work on better outcomes when it comes to relationships. Many people could want to date you or be with you, but this is a good year to choose carefully, and sometimes just choose yourself.

⭑.ᐟ The year I got this placement, I went out of a toxic relationship and I learned a lot of lessons when it comes to relationships. I had a lot of men wanting to get with me, but I was more trying to heal some traumas and toxic patterns I had. I also met someone who helped me heal and it felt like a soulmate connection to me, we were very much alike. A strong connection.

⋆˙⟡ Part of Fortune in 8H

POF in the 8H can mean you can have a year where you are blessed with money. Perhaps you can have more money when it comes to others, money can also come unexpectedly. This can be a year where people can buy you things, give you things, you can win money as well perhaps. You can also get more into spirituality, or esotericism. Perhaps you can develop your intuition and psychic abilities, you can also feel like it's easier for you to know lies and the truth. You can perhaps also have a better time to figure things out. This can also be a good year for self work, going to therapy, perhaps also working on yourself, doing shadow work, mental health matters. You can feel like you have many opportunities to work on yourself and work on your inner health. Wanting to heal.

⋆˙⟡ Part of Fortune in 9H

POF in the 9H can be a sign of having strong opportunities to learn more this year. This can manifest in you entering college, or getting a course, or wanting to learn more school wise. You can be very much into studying, and learning, perhaps having a thirst for knowledge. You can also want to learn more in life in general, so perhaps just learning more on your hobbies, etc. You can also want to develop your skills for your job as well. Moreover, this could also mean you can develop your religious or spiritual skills, meaning you can have a better understanding and get to learn some deep lessons. You could also want to learn Astrology, or learn more tools about it. You can also travel or have more travel opportunities.

⭑.ᐟ The year I got that placement, I traveled, and I also learned strong spiritual lessons. I also learned soooo much when it comes to Astrology, life in general, but I developed my spiritual and esoteric side as well.

⋆˙⟡ Part of Fortune in 10H

POF in the 10H can be a sign of having more opportunities in a work or a job, in your career in general. This can be great to have more job opportunities, change your work, change your career field, etc. You can also have a better reputation at work, you can get a promotion, better pay check, you can also be seen at work and recognized for your good job. So this can indicate you can also be happy in your work this year, perhaps thinking it's a good time to evolve in your career. Thought, this can also be about you being more popular and seen in general, such as getting noticed. You can feel like people stare at you more this year, and you can also have a feeling you are more popular and known. You can also have a good opportunity to change your reputation, change your status in how society sees you, so an example could be getting visa for example.

⭑.ᐟ The year I had this placement, I didn't have a job, but I got a specific visa to travel and live in a foreign country than mine. My identity changed in a way since I was seen as a foreigner there. I also had a reputation where I lived, I learned I was known weirdly. I also got more popular in a way. I was seen for sure.

⋆˙⟡ Part of Fortune in 11H

POF in the 11H can mean you can have more success this year into making friends. You can feel like you can meet better people, important connections, this could also be a year where you can have an easier time to connect with others. You can also better your current connections and friendships. You can be more extroverted that year, but also, you can be wanting to connect with people. This can be a very easy time for you to connect to any kind of people in fact, you can befriend literally anyone this year. You can also spend a lot of time online, perhaps also meeting people online, having long distance friendships too. You can also have more views and popularity online if you create content, but this can also be a year where you want to create and post more contents as well.

⭑.ᐟ The year I had this placement, I made new friends, met so many people mostly at work, and I also spent a lot of time online, talking to people, to my friends, etc. This is the year I did some vlogging, and I also started a YouTube channel.

⋆˙⟡ Part of Fortune in 12H

POF in the 12H can mean that you can have a better time being on your own. You can perhaps experience more solitude, but enjoying it. You can also have a better relationship with yourself, and perhaps work on yourself, such as doing mental health, shadow work, etc. You can also develop your spirituality this year, or religious matters. You can learn a lot in being on your own, perhaps being more independent, or reflecting a lot on your past, and you can see the benefits of it. This can also be a year where you can travel, but also where you can feel you have a better sleep quality. Perhaps also having more good dreams.

Thank you for Reading!

support the creator (tip): paypal ⟡ buy me a coffee

[amywritesthings]

care. / a levi period comfort fic

pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader word count: 1.4k summary: You have to skip your gym date with Levi due to bad period cramps. Levi, however, isn't going to let you suffer alone.

note: set in the press four for more options / dating on airplane mode universe tags: modern au, neighbors au, menstruation, cramp pain, period talk, doting new boyfriend levi, fluff, adult language, reader has a chronic pms pain

author note: today is my birthday!! my gift to you is this little P4/DOAP one shot. this is a little self indulgent, so i hope this helps anyone else that experiences bad pains like me! i will be writing one shots all month for my endo awareness event, so feel free to send requests if you would like to see more! credit: dividers by @saradika-graphics

( Read on AO3. )

You know as soon as you wake up what kind of day it’s going to be.

As you stir from slumber, you’re met with the familiar, unforgiving punch to the gut before you take your first deep inhale. The sharp jab is a tell-tale sign that you should have probably hit the pharmacy when you had the time during your lunch break — yesterday.

You know, before things got awful.

“God damn it.”

Periods have always been a sore spot to discuss in your life. The immense pain that follows the next agonizing few days is not a new occurrence, but knowing them intimately never makes them any better. No matter how many times you’ve prepared, weathered, endured — it’s a gamble whether or not you have the energy to eat today, much less do anything productive.

Dragging your phone off of the adjacent nightstand, your heart sinks when you see your most recent notifications:

Alarm set for 7:30 a.m. (Dismiss?)

Remember to pay credit card bill. (Eventually.)

New text from Levi Ackerman.

Shit.

Opening the third notification first, you read his text from five minutes ago.

[LEVI:] Hey. Still going to the gym this morning?

Self hatred floods your system when you realize there’s no way in hell you’re going to be going to the gym today, much less leaving this apartment. It’ll be a miracle if you can drag yourself to the bathroom.

Missing out on seeing Levi today hurts more than you’re willing to admit.

Tapping the reply bubble, you type in response:

[ME:] Sorry, not feeling well. :( Rain check?

It’s weird to confess why, right?

Everything is way too fresh, much too new, between the two of you.

You can’t burden your newest partner with the—

Another notification pops up immediately.

[LEVI:] What’s wrong?

Double shit.

Sighing to yourself, you type back, hesitate, then send.

[ME:] Don’t worry about it, it’s pretty embarrassing. I probably won’t be able to leave the apartment today. I’m rooting you on from down here!

Or up here, technically, if he’s going to be at the gym.

(Dumbass.)

You drop your phone to your mattress, slowly easing yourself out of bed. You check the sheets behind you to make sure you didn’t ruin them — thank god, there’s a singular win for this morning — before waddling to the bathroom.

Grabbing a new pair of underwear and a pad, you sit on the toilet with your head in your hands, taking some time to breathe through the initial cramps.

A few days.

Just a few days and you can—

It’s faint, but you hear it.

Three raps at your front door.

Knock, knock, knock.

Perking your head up, your brows furrow as you finish up, tug your pajama bottoms back on, and wash your hands. Crossing the living room to the front door, you use the peephole to see who’s waiting outside.

For the briefest moment, you forget your cramps altogether.

“Levi?!” you yelp, shocked by his presence.

“Hey,” he states, arms crossed over his chest. He’s wearing his typical white workout tank, displaying his lean arms in the fisheye lens of your doorframe. “You okay in there?”

“I— yeah, I’m okay!” you lie, higher pitched than usual. “Sorry, I can’t let you in.”

You note how his chin tilts, contemplating your brevity. 

“You come down with some shitty cold or whatever?”

“No, it’s—”

“Stomach bug?”

“No, not at all, it’s just—”

“I can wear a mask if you got something catchable.” He shifts, thumbing back to the hallway behind him like he knows you’re watching. “I have a bunch at my place.”

“Levi, no,” you blurt, getting frustrated. “I have my period!”

The dark-haired man stops.

His brows furrow, contemplating with evident confusion on his face.

“...I’m confused, a period of what? Fucking dysentary or something?” When you’re about to argue, he pointedly glances at the peephole. “Can you at least open the door for a sec?”

Reluctantly you agree to his request, unlocking the door and swinging it open. You feel immense shame standing in front of your new boyfriend looking messy and make-up free.

There hasn’t even been time to at least put on some moisturizer, damn it.

When he finally sees you at your worst (or so you perceive to be your worst) he doesn’t even bat an eye.

The stormy grays just stare into your own, brows rising expectantly.

“What do you need?”

You lean against your doorframe, trying to breathe through another wave of cramps. “What?”

With a tsk, he steps a baited sneaker into the threshold of your apartment. When you don’t push him out, he fully enters your apartment and beelines to your kitchen.

(Right. Same layout, just a couple of floors higher.)

“Get comfy on the couch,” he states like he’s a coach again, devoid of nonsense. “You have any tea lying around?”

“I don’t understand,” you state, only then closing the door to your apartment. “You were about to go to the gym—”

“Yeah, and now I’m not.”

“Levi.”

“Couch,” he counters, plucking the kettle you had sitting dormant on your stovetop to fill it with water. “Or your bed, if that makes you more comfortable.”

You can’t really argue with that, not when your cramps are making you dizzy.

Hell, his insistence on helping is making you even dizzier but in an entirely different way.

When you dated Porco, he never extended help beyond some comforting words and a stray pint of ice cream. Levi looks natural rummaging around your kitchen as if he’s been spending time here for months.

“You really don’t have to babysit me,” you try to reason, though you find yourself slowly shambling towards your couch anyway. “I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, well, my mother used to have a lot of really bad months when I was growing up.” Levi starts the stove, heating up the water. His eyes briefly flicker to you. “My friend, Hange, doesn’t exactly have a walk in the park with this shit, either. They left an arsenal of supplies at my place whenever they come around. Can’t imagine they’ll care if I borrow some of it.”

So Levi has period supplies at his apartment for friends and family?

That…

You’ve never heard of any man who has something like that.

“Supplies like what?”

“Admittedly it’s a bunch of stuff we used to offer people at our gym in case they were having a rough week,” he explains as if this is nothing while he watches the kettle grow hot. 

Then again, periods are supposed to be nothing.

They’re natural and half of the planet go through them monthly, and yet —

“Heating pads, two different sizes. Mint and ginger tea are soothing for cramping. I’ve got a decently fresh stock of those leaves. Not sure if you’re out of sanitary products, but I got some of those in a cabinet, too.”

You stare dumbfounded, your heart skipping a beat.

(As if this man couldn’t be any more attractive.)

When you don’t respond, he turns around to look at you. His eyes soften as they search your face.

“I’d ask how your pain is right now, but I take it it’s high?” You nod. “Alright. Mind if I keep the door unlocked? I’ll run upstairs and grab everything.”

“You don’t have—”

“Don’t,” he cuts you off, but it isn’t firm like before.

Levi walks across the room towards you. As he bends at the hip, his dog tags slip out of his tank top.

Gentle lips press to the crown of your head.

“Let me take care of you, alright? You’re my girl. That’s my responsibility, especially when you’re feeling like shit. I can do push-ups anywhere. Gym’s not a necessity.”

Melting at his reassurance, you can’t help but tease. 

“So I get pampering and a show? Talk about high-class service.”

The lips on your head curve to a smirk before pulling away, his eyes meeting yours. His hand raises to cup the side of your face adoringly. An absentminded thumb strokes your cheek.

“Yeah, well, you know me. High fucking class or whatever.”

When you laugh, the corner of his mouth twitches again. He lifts your chin and leans forward, kissing your lips. You return the gesture, warmth spreading throughout your body.

“I’ll be five minutes,” he whispers against your lips.

“It only takes you five minutes to run up six flights of stairs and back?”

“You can time me if you think I’m lying.”

“Deal.”

[threefandomsinatrenchcoat]

I think we should worry less about labels, in general. I get that they can be very helpful and comforting to some people and for very quickly communicating the gist of things, they're quite good.

When I want someone to just understand that I like multiple genders with a tendency to prefer one over another, "I'm bisexual" gets the job done a lot quicker than describing the whole situation, everyone I've ever found attractive and who out of these people I'd actually sleep with.

But I feel like we've gotten really caught up in this way of thinking that dictates that every unique human experience needs a name and it's really confusing and limiting.

If a straight person finds someone of the same gender/sex attractive just once, they're suddenly confused and rattled, because they don't know what this means for their identity. Are they still straight?

A lot of terms are from a time when sexuality was better understood than gender and thus, the definitions of terms were still based on a gender binary. Now that this isn't the case anymore, we're struggling to say who can and can't be [label].

Can trans men be lesbians? Where do intersex people fall in this? Are nonbinary people trans, because being trans is just being not cis, or can they not be trans, because being trans has to do with transitioning? But not all mtf and ftm trans people transition either, and they're still valid, so-

Do you see what I mean? The definitions are so imprecise and we keep arguing about them, which is fucking pointless. It's not getting us anywhere. We shouldn't be infighting at all, but especially not at a time like this, when many of us are in peril and we're all in this together.

Who cares about these fucking definitions, man? Does it matter if I'm aro or just have commitment issues so big I can't imagine having a relationship? The result is the same. I'm not interested in a romantic relationship. Why am I worrying about whether a label fits me rather than thinking about how this part of my identity affects my life? Does it matter if chopping my tits off makes me trans? The result is the same, I look and feel different.

I get wanting to find out more about yourself and wanting to put everything in neat little boxes and having tools and words to find people just like you to share your experiences, support and advice with, I truly do, but I feel like we're really pulling the noose tighter around our own necks by focusing more on labels than on the fact that we're all human, we all have things in common as well as differences, and we're all too complex to describe with a single word per aspect of our identity.

You shouldn’t have to be trans to get any sex characteristic-related surgery. It’s not a limited resource. Plenty of cis men get implants and cis women get breast reductions. From Colby Gordon today and Leslie Feinberg in Transgender Warriors (1996).

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

"WHY WON'T YOU ANSWER ME!"

Vodou or Voodoo!reader x platonic Yandere batfam

You haven't gotten out of bed in days, lying there rotting away like a bone. Your amulet, once vibrant purple, is now dusty and dark. Your bedroom is cold, and your altar is neglected; the candles are out. You haven’t put food there, fixed the tablecloth, or done anything. You haven’t prayed or performed a ceremonial dance. You've never been this depressed, this sad, or this angry; you're in despair. Ever since arriving at the mansion, you've felt your life and soul being sucked out, which is strange—you were so lively before. You feel dead, yet you can hear the chatter and laughter downstairs seeping through your thick walls. Usually, you drown it out, but today you listen. You can feel their smiles, their joy, their anger—everything, yet you're not present.

“Why don’t you go down there?” a spirit says, its ghostly hand caressing your shoulder.

“They don’t want me there; you know that already,” you say, your voice cracks. Of course it did; you were crying for hours, maybe even longer, but better not count. “Don’t be like that; they’re your family.”

You scoff at what the spirit says. You want to slap its hand away, but you obviously can't touch it; you can't even feel it, just the cold air that caresses your dark skin.

“I’ll only ruin it,” you say, hovering overhead, letting your despair consume you. If you continue like this, how will you become a great Priestess? Your altar has no gifts, no offerings. You haven’t fixed your hair in days; you haven’t sent us anything, and we love your voice. “Please, my child,” the spirit pleads, “you do not want to go down there. At least do something.”

You don’t answer again. You curl up into a ball. The spirit sighs. “As you wish, young Priestess,” and they disappear into purple smoke. But all you can think about, deep in your head, is that it just isn’t fair. You’re a nice kid; you’re sweet, you’re kind, you’re honest, you’re polite—the nicest of them all. Even if there was a niceness contest, you’d come out on top, leaving everybody in your wake. But your father seems to favor the ones who are cruel, mean, and rude. Your younger brother, Damian—a little devil, held you at swordpoint, threatened to kill you, called you a bastard, and you’re supposed to forgive him with open arms? What kind of idiot does Bruce take you for?

And your older brother, who prides himself on family, barely even knows you—the sucker might have to look up your middle name, maybe even your birthday, on some celebrity website. He’s always spending time with the little devil; you have no clue why. You’re way more fun to hang out with than him. But who cares? And your second eldest brother is rude, scary, and he smells like pure death, as if he crawled out of his grave, clutching dirt from the ground beneath him. It makes sense—his eyes are naturally green, just like Damian's, but he’s alive. It just doesn’t make sense. Maybe Papa Legba, but him cross without knowing.

And the brother who is the same age as you, Timothy, makes you snore when you hear his name. He’s intellectual, so smart, and yet so stupid, so dumb, and so hypocritical. He’ll find everything and anything to correct you on, even if you’re right, just to ensure that you’re slightly off the mark. The brother you thought you would have an unbreakable bond with is so tight he cut off blood circulation; yet, this bond is flimsier than a piece of string. He’s always talking with Cass, and you're never invited. You have more in common than they think, but to them, you’re just another bastard of Bruce Wayne—Cass, Steph, and Babs are your sisters. You’re supposed to gossip, talk about boys, play hand games, and hold each other, but they are only close with each other and not you.

I mean, trios were never meant to be broken; who even wants a quartet? You pray to Bondye every night. You expel all the darkness within your amulet, and your wishes are always the same each night: “Please, Supreme Lord, let them greet me with open arms; let them see me as their kin; let them love me; let them notice me.” But each night, you are met with nothing but silence. Bondye is quiet, and so are the loa. They always talked to you, but whenever you beg for this family to see you, they can never answer; they can never give advice. At first, you thought it was a test—a series of trials you had to go through to prove that you were worthy of their love. So whenever you were met with hostility, it was like the sharp end of a blade. Mom and Dad did see you before you opened your arms to them; the trials got harder, and it started to become impossible.

Maybe I have to go in a different direction; maybe meet force with force. But then you get scolded. Maybe you just don’t fight back, but if you don’t, then you will be forgotten. So what next? How do you pass this test, these everlasting trials? You have no clue, no idea, and in fact, you feel lost, and you start to lose faith. Maybe you were just not meant to be loved; you weren’t meant for affection, you weren’t meant to be held, dear. So you let that bitterness and anger swallow you whole as you wallow in your own sorrow and self-pity. This young High Priestess is filled with hurt.

[sailoryuns]

INAMORATA ─── PSH

genre. idol!sunghoon x model!f!reader | established relationship

warnings. angst, fluff (moreso towards the end), smut, accusations of cheating, hoon being lowkey toxic, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, some mentions of crying, not proofread wc -> 1.5k

ps. the position i’m referring to is this (nsfw link), i usually hate vids but this was rly good imo.

“i think we should take a break...” you admit, voice growing shakier as you spoke. this was never something you wish to say in a million years, you wanted this relationship to work more than anything. but you were at your wits end with everything, talking to sunghoon was like conversing with the wall, never fully grasping any of your concerns.

you noticed the cracks beginning to seep in the midst of six months of being with him. he would often be dishonest of his whereabouts, saying he was out late due to “work” but was actually out drinking at some bar with jake or something. it made no sense for him to lie about such trivial things but he does it without even thinking. this was supposed to be a lovely vacation in paris together but lately you’ve grown tired of feeling like you’re unappreciated. a break from each other might be the best solution in getting his act together once and for all.

sunghoon felt his whole body turn limp as you uttered those words. not only was he blindsided by your decision, but you never indicated before to him that you were ready to propose such a drastic idea. “but why though? don’t you think this is a bit random? i mean this came out of nowhere y/n, i thought everything was good between us, why are you suddenly saying this now?” his thick, bushy brows furrowed in confusion, he wasn’t letting you off this easy and you know it.

“i just think it’s for the better right now hoon, we’re both so busy. we have a lot on our plate, especially you… and this relationship is just— it’s only putting more strain on everythi-”

“are you serious y/n? do you hear yourself? i knew what i was getting myself into the day i asked you to be my girlfriend. i’m well aware that i can’t be with you 24/7, and neither can you—however, i don’t expect that anyway. all i ever wanted was to have you by my side, i want to work through the hardships with you but if you’re so willing to give up like this then… i don’t know. i don’t even know what to say to this honestly..” sunghoon couldn’t help but cut you off, once his emotions take over, all sense of logic and reasoning is thrown out the window.

he was never one to question his worth in the eyes of his partner, but you were his longest relationship, he saw you as his first and only true love. it never occurred to him that he could lose you, the possibility of this break lasting long enough to make your love fade away was a scary revelation. there had to be a way he could fix this, he couldn’t bear to be without you.

“are you seeing someone else? maybe that’s why you’ve been so distant towards me lately…” he wanted to scream for saying that out loud but at least he got it off his chest. he knows how petty it sounds but he didn’t care, he wanted you to give him answers.

“no! i’m not seeing other people, i don’t have an interest in anyone but you sunghoon. i want to do this for the sake of us, we’re clearly not where we need to be and this break could help with getting us back on track and spending time apart could be beneficial.” you try your best to articulate your words properly but he remained unconvinced, he wasn’t on board with any bit of this.

how could you even be okay with something like this? spending time away from you drove him absolutely insane, he couldn’t fathom taking a break—not from someone as important as you in his life. he just needed to remind you that the love was still there, though it may be but a dull flame, he could ignite the spark again, with the little bit of hope he had left.

the foundation of your relationship was built from shared interests, since you both are part of professions that rely heavily on looks, you refused to see each other based solely off those superficial aspects. instead you got to know each other’s minds, your core values and beliefs, what mattered to you the most. you cherished every one of those deep conversations you shared together, it was a beautiful experience, an indescribable memory that shaped your bond forever.

so why is it now that you feel this way? was he really that oblivious to everything? he should’ve done more to prevent this but now he fears it’s too late. he’s faced with the conundrum of losing you and there wasn’t much time for him to stall or ask for a chance of redemption, he couldn’t waste another second.

“fuck that,” sunghoon angrily spat, his face contorting into a look of pure disgust. “you’re not going anywhere.” he reaches out to grab your waist before you could walk away, aggressively pulling you into his chest.

no matter how much you attempt to escape his hold, he’s not letting you go in the slightest. he’s much stronger than you, could easily lift you up without breaking a sweat. there was no use in fighting, you had no choice but to give in and let this conversation go. once his lips crashed into yours, everything faded to black. as if a simple kiss was the cure-all of mending this decrepit relationship.

sunghoon’s forehead pressed against yours as he pulled away, “shhh, lye down baby,” he hushes your quiet mewls, instructing you to do as he says. “gonna make you feel so good,” his hands slid under your skirt, gently rubbing over your clothed core “you’ll forget everything.”

* :.･ﾟﾟ･ ✿

“oh my- fuckk, sunghoon!” you cry out, almost on the verge of tears just from how skilled he is, rutting your hips upwards into his mouth as he devours you whole.

the pace of his tongue is relentless, roughly lapping up all your juices like he’s the most starved man alive. you’ve lost count at the amount of times he’s already made you come undone just from his mouth alone. your body’s buzzing with titillation, all you can do is scream and clench your pussy around nothing while he fiercely sucks on your clit.

you couldn’t stop twitching, feeling yet another orgasm approaching. your legs anchored over his shoulders, unable to think or speak coherent sentences as his face was fully buried into your sloppy cunt. he relaxes his jaw a bit more, going all the way from the bottom inching further up as he comes back in contact with your puffy clit. at any given moment it feels as if your heart’s about to stop.

“hoon-” your heads thrown back into the pillow, digging your nails into his shoulder blades from how overly sensitive you are. “n-need to cum.. can feel it. m’so close.” it surprises you when you’re able to even express such words.

a low grunt can be heard underneath, sunghoon loves hearing you— it’s arguably the best part about going down on you. the hand that wasn’t occupied went straight to gripping a fistful of his ebony hair, continuously moaning his name so loud that you genuinely feel bad for whomever the unlucky people that got to hear this.

just when you thought it couldn’t get anymore intense, he slips 2 of his slender fingers inside, making you gasp from the overwhelming sensation. flashes of white invade your vision, violently shaking as your lips form an “o” in the throes of ecstasy. sunghoon knows your body so well that this is nothing for him, he’s got it all down to a simple science. no one knows your body like he does, and especially no one can make you cum as hard as he can.

“go ahead, make a mess for me baby,” he strongly encourages, picking up his pace as his digits fuck into you faster. “just gonna clean it up with my tongue all over again.”

your eyes roll back to the depths of oblivion, feeling an out of body experience when reaching your climax. a string of curses leaves your shaky breath, limbs trembling and faint tears stain your flushed cheeks. sunghoon slows his movements, rubbing his thumb over your clit gently to make you even more sensitive. you love the way he calls you “good girl” and how proud the look on his face becomes while you ride out your orgasm on his fingers. he doesn’t stop showering you with compliments, only ramping up his affection as he plants fleeting kisses to your thighs, hips, and stomach.

once he’s finally come back up for air you grab his face to pull him into your lips again. moaning in his mouth while getting a taste of yourself was probably the hottest thing sunghoon’s ever witnessed.

“can’t believe this is all mine.” sunghoon whispers against you, gently massaging your aching thighs. “i love you so much, baby.”

“love you too hoon.” you instantly say back, feeling more at ease now that things are somewhat back to normal.

maybe a break isn’t necessary after all, how else would you be able to have such earth shattering orgasms?

- 完 ♡︎

[darlingdaisyfarm]

♡.ᐟ his hands know you better than you do ˚⋆

a/n: sorry if this is self-indulgent but i just needed to write something where Ford fucks the stress and depression out of me. honestly, wouldn’t mind if Stan did too. this started as princess treatment but derailed into filth, but whatever

tags: Ford x reader, princess treatment, mostly nsfw, soft Ford, praise kink, worshipping, vaginal sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingerfucking actually lots of fingerfucking because Fords fingers deserve their own category, petnames, dumbification

there’s something tragic about the way you struggle with the clasp of your necklace, standing in front of the mirror with your fingers fumbling at the tiny silver hook. it's such a small thing, but frustration gnaws at you nonetheless. and Ford is always here to wash that feeling away. you feel his warm hands, six fingers sweeping your own aside, “allow me, please.”

he stands behind you as he secures the chain at your nape, admiring his sweetheart in the mirror. his fingers linger, pressing lightly against the fragile dip where your spine begins.

“there. perfect.”

Ford is always fixing things. adjusting the strap of your dress, tugging your coat tighter around your shoulders when the wind picks up, brushing stray lashes from your cheek with the soft drag of his thumb. he notices. he always notices.

there is a gravity to the way Ford Pines touches you, like the sea is pulled to the moon. six fingers softly grazing over your cheek as if you are precious, at if you're some rare, undocumented star he has been searching for his entire life. nothing has ever captivated him like you.

it's the little details that ruin you. when he pulls your gloves off finger by finger in the winter. when he cups your jaw in the middle of a conversation, just to tip your chin up and look at his sweetheart properly, murmuring about how your eyes catch the light just so.

when he says “there you go, sweetheart” whenever he helps you into a coat, a car, a chair. and you bite your lip when you catch the envious glances of other girls.

his hands, oh, his hands. meant for research, for careful sketches of interdimensional maps, for scrawled notes in the margins of mysteries unsolved and yet, they belong to you now.

Ford always pulls you closer in crowds, putting his firm hand at the small of your back because he needs to make sure his sweetheart is safe and near

if your feet ache, if your delicate ankles are too sore from those pretty little shoes, he’ll sweep you into his arms without a second thought. he grumbles though, muttering something about you being reckless for wearing those ridiculous shoes, but you know it's just because he cares.

you poor, delicate thing. you look so lovely when you’re tired like this, slumped on the edge of the bed with your heels kicked off haphazardly, body aching from a long day. too much effort, too much weight carried on your dainty little shoulders. but don’t worry, Ford will take care of you.

he kneels before you, a man who has spent decades chasing the unknown, kneeling at your feet like a man finally bowing before the only mystery he never wants to solve. calloused hands reach for your ankle, undoing the delicate strap of your shoe, fingers tracing the curve of your instep. and you sigh when you feel his warm lips pressing against the skin just above your ankle.

“you look so tired, my dear, please let me take care of you.”

his hands travel higher, peeling off the layers of the day, undressing you carefully and that feels almost ceremonial. fingers working at the zipper of your dress, pushing it from your shoulders, watching as the fabric pools around you. his breath is warm when he leans in against the curve of your thigh, kissing, kissing, kissing, an exploration, a devotion.

your hands never open doors, never carry bags heavier than a dainty purse. Ford notices everything. if your lipstick smudges after a kiss, he’s already smoothing his thumb over your lower lip. if your hands are cold, his are already cupping them, rubbing warmth into your skin, bringing your fingers to his mouth to breathe warm air over them.

in a moment of hesitation you'll always hear “don’t trouble yourself with that, love. let me handle it.”

you struggle with your hair and Ford is already reaching for the brush, pulling you between his knees as he gently, meticulously combs through the strands, what makes shivers bloom down your spine.

because Ford's sweetheart should never struggle, not when he can do something about it.

but that treatment does not stop at the threshold of the bedroom.

always kissing your wrist like a proper gentleman before pinning them down and making you sob.

when you straddle Ford's lap, rocking against him with slow, teasing rolls of your hips, he doesn’t stop you, only leans back, watching you.

“mmh, you’re making quite the mess of me, sweetheart.”

you know his hands have built machine leading to other worlds and dimensions, but now, they exist for you.

and in bed they are worshipful. you dont have to work for pleasure, you receive it. his pleasure is your pleasure.

you melt when his big hands hold you steady, guiding you against the hard press of his cock, letting you take what you want. if you decide to ride him, he always settles his hands on your hips, just because he wants to be close to you.

but oh, he likes to give, too.

you are his subject, his obsession, the one thing in all the dimensions that he has deemed worthy of true complete devotion.

you cum first, always, that's his rule. even while he’s making love to you, even when he’s right there on the edge. you'll always hear him groaning “cum for me, love,” and he means now.

fingers, fingers, fingers, obsessed with them, using them on you, making you cum on them.

because damn, he needs to make sure you’re ruined and twitching before he fucks his own release into you.

“look at you. dripping all over my hand. such a pretty little thing”

and thats a fact. his fingers always come first. they have to. he’d never think of fucking you without it, not when your little pussy flutters just from the slow push of his long digits inside. two first, then three, stretching, pressing, working until you’re soaking and weak.

Ford fingers you so often and naturally, that you start to think it’s just second nature to him. you’re sitting on his lap, buried in one of his oversized sweaters and his hand is already under it, teasing at the waistband of your panties, rubbing soft circles over your sensitive clit. or you’re in bed, drowsy and half-asleep and Ford is already between your thighs, lazily sliding two fingers inside you, curling them deep as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear.

“just relax, sweetheart, let me take care of you.”

Ford never rushes. six fingers, six places to hold, touch and tease. one teasing your nipple, rolling the sensitive bud between his fingers. another smoothing over your hip, keeping you still. but the two buried inside you work you open, coaxing wet little sounds from your lips, stroking that soft, aching spot deep inside.

his voice is always deep and soothing, even when his cock is aching, even when he’s watching your slick drip down his wrist. Ford is patient. determined. he won’t fuck you until you’re trembling, begging, nearly crying for it.

“that’s it, love. such a sensitive little thing.”

your nipples, he just adores them, rolling them between his fingers, sucking them slow, teasing, making your back arch so pretty, your fingers digging into his hair as he kisses, licks, bites, its never enough.

“so soft. you’re beautiful like this. love you so much.”

yeah, Ford knows you love his fingers because you always run your mouth about them, without even realising. you’ll watch him turn a page in his journal and murmur “ohh your hands are so strong, Ford.” or when you trace your fingertip along the veins of his knuckles and hum, “beautiful, so big.” you say it without a thought, praising him for nothing, really

and Ford never comments, never says a damn thing, but he burns with the knowledge that you have no idea what you do to him

so later, when his thick cock stuffing you up, filling every little space, fucking you open, that’s when he gets his little revenge.

“Ford, w-wait—“ you gasp when he pulls out suddenly, leaving you aching and empty when you were so damn close, in response you feel Ford rubbing his broad palm down your belly, down between your thighs. “shh, just for a second, just let me. here we go,” its two first, then three, pressing inside, stroking that spot that makes your body jolt.

Ford kisses your neck. “this little pussy loves my fingers more than anything, doesn't she?” fuck, you do, you can’t help it. you whimper, nodding so fast it makes him grin. “so go on, starlight. cum for them.”

there's nothing he loves more than making you cum around his fingers.

Ford, although quite awkward, insists you sit on his face and you know his mouth was made for worship when you perched prettily on him. greedy hands gripping your thighs, trying to keep you there forever. six fingers press into your flesh, keeping you open and spread, keeping you exactly where he wants you with your thighs trembling around his head.

his tongue moves with purpose, slowly lapping at your pussy like he has all the time in the world. you tilt your head back when he sucks your little clit into his warm mouth, moans against you like he's the one getting fucked, groans deep and filthy when you grab his hair.

“you taste divine, darling.”

Ford lovers to press his forehead to yours when he bottoms out deep, stretching you good enough that you whimper, wrapping your arms around his neck. he kisses your lips, your jaw, the corner of your mouth, memorising every inch of you, letting you feel every inch of him, holding himself still so you can adjust.

and Ford hates making you cry, he swears he does. but god, if he doesn’t love the way your little tears stain his lips when he devours your mouth with kisses.

“i know, darling, i know,” as his thumb catches the first tear that spills, swipes it up, brings it to his lips like he’s starving for it. “look at my pretty girl, getting all teary for me.”

he can’t help it. his hands tighten as he ruts faster into you.

It's his guilty pleasure but damn, Ford adores it when you get dumb for him, too far gone to even think as he fucks into you so deep, the bed creaking. your knees trembling where they hook over his hips.

“sweetheart, still with me?” he’s got your wrists pinned, forehead to forehead, mouth brushing yours as he drinks up every little sound.

“fuh—Ford, too much—c-can’t—“

he’s not even touching you anymore, just watching how your lashes flutter and your mouth stays open, how your chest rises and falls in rapid helpless gasps. you can’t think straight. he’s hitting too deep, ruining you too slow and that feels too good.

“you can take it. just let me make you feel good.” he cups your face, wipes the mess off your cheek.

but Ford loves it when you use him too, when you ride him, rolling your hips in teasing circles, grinding down just to hear him groan. Ford always lets you take what you need.

and when you collapse against his chest, tired, trembling, whining softly into his neck about how good he feels, he fucks up into you, slow and sweet, holding you close, cradling you.

“i’ve got you, baby, i’ve got you. let me love you.”

ever the gentleman, Ford always asks you where you want his cum.

“tell me, princess. where do you want it? inside? on your pretty stomach? your soft thighs? tell me, sweetheart. let me give it to you. im so close.“

it. . . doesn't really matter that he wants it inside you, that he needs to fill you up, keep you full and watch it drip from your spent little cunt. no. the most important thing is what his beloved wants.

even afterwards, Ford doesn’t roll away, but stays pressed against you, holds you through it all. whispers soft things against your temple, kisses your fingertips, your shoulders, your belly as he thanks you for letting him ruin you.

because princess treatment doesn’t end when the sex does. Ford cleans you up gently, tugs you against his scarred chest, runs his six fingers through your hair until you fall asleep, safe in his arms.

“there, there, sweetheart. took me so well. so proud of you. just rest. i’ve got you.” and here you are, worshipped, fucked, adored

[simpforrooster]

this is so much better.

jake 'hangman' seresin x f!simpsonreader

summary: jake and reader are trapped in an elevator, much to jake's excitement, and reader's demise. t/w: mentions of claustrophobia, on-page panic attack, some fluff. 18+ content mentioned.

“hold the door!!” a southern drawl calls out to you, his handsome face barely visible as the elevator doors start to close.

as you punch the close door button, his strong forearm stops the door, and he runs in.

jake “hangman” seresin feeds you an annoyingly beautiful smirk. you answer with one of your best eye rolls.

“thanks, sugar,” he drawls. his flight suit is unzipped to his waist, showcasing the tight black shirt stretched across his chest.

“in a hurry?” you ask, keeping your gaze straight ahead, watching the numbers countdown.

“i could ask you the same. coulda’ sworn i saw your finger reach for the close door button.” his blonde brow arches up.

god, he’s infuriatingly handsome. and your favorite verbal sparring partner.

“just trying to deliver these reports to, Dad. he left them on the counter and called me in a tizzy,” you reply. “you?”

“oh, i heard you were making an appearance on base and had to see you,” he winks. “couldn’t let the pretty simpson go without a little flirting.”

“don’t call me that,” you say. “hey does the elevator feel like it’s—“

before you can get the words out, the elevator lurches and throws you into jake, the papers you were holding scattered all along the floor. the lights dim out, replaced by a red emergency light.

his strong arms lock around your waist, holding you up. your gaze is locked on his chest where his shirt meets his collarbone. your breaths start to come in short spurts.

“is this a bad time to tell you this is my worst nightmare?” you murmur.

“is this a bad time to tell you i’ve never been happier with the way you’re clinging to me for dear life?” he whispers back, his breath soft on your ear.

for a moment, your fear is replaced with longing. you look up into his green eyes, and he gives you another smirk. you remove your hands from him and try to step back.

he matches your step, not unlocking his arms from your waist. one hand cups your neck.

“your pulse is racing,” he comments. "i didn't know you felt this way about me, simpson." his lip quips up in the corner.

the walls of the elevator feel like they're closing in. in a matter of seconds, you are going to be enveloped between the lacquered wood walls. the roof of the tiny box is joining the walls, ready to squish you into your eternal doom.

"please don't be a smart ass, jake," you managed to say in between your gasping breath.

jake pulls back to take in your features. his green eyes roam over your face. your hands are in fists against your own chest, rising up and down in time if your hyperventalations.

jake reaches for your hands, and you don't fight. he flattens out your fists, enveloping them between his own. realization falls over his beautiful face.

"you're having a panic attack." it's not a question.

in an instance, the jake you know and hate--err, love--is gone. in his place is lieutenant seresin, the aviator with three confirmed kills. the man who is going to rise in rank in no time.

"listen to me, simpson," he says your last name as if he's speaking to your dad, not trying to get into your pants like usual.

his green eyes lock and hold yours. you couldn't look away if you wanted to.

"the walls are closing in. we're going to be crushed," you admit your fears, feeling the tears you've been trying to keep away roll down your cheeks. saying the fear aloud helps you reason with the absurdity of it.

"they aren't," he murmurs, continuing to rub your palms in his. the sensation pulls your thoughts from the elevator, keeping your present with jake.

"the roof too," you whisper. jake shakes his head. there is no sign of the flirty pilot. no sign of raised brows questioning your sanity. lieutenant seresin believes you. he believes this illogical fear.

and he's helping you through it.

"we're stuck," you croak. this time, jake nods. you sink to the floor, and jake goes along with you. he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. reaching over your shoulder, he pushes the call button.

"power outage on base," the collected voice announces. "working as fast as they can. who is in the elevator?"

"lieutenant seresin and y/n simpson."

"noted. hang tight, you two. might be a little while."

a little while. the phrase has your pulse ramping back up. how long is a little while? thirty minutes? an hour? overnight?

as if he can read your mind, jake begins rubbing your palms. you meet his eyes and your breathing starts to steady.

"it's okay. you can be scared. i'm here," he whispers. "you are safe. your biggest enemy right now is your mind."

"i know," you admit. one of his hands lets go of yours to rest on your neck. he slides the hand up to your cheek. immediately, you lean into the touch. he calloused hand rough against your cheek helps to keep you from exploring all the ways this elevator could hurt you. his thumb brushes under your eye, removing a tear.

"i'm sorry," you say, embarrassment replacing some of your anxiety.

jake looks startled. "you have nothing to apologize for." jake looks around the elevator, and in a stage-whisper says, "i used to feel so claustrophobic in my jet."

the admission catches you off-guard. "you don't have to make me feel better, hangman."

he shakes his head. "i'm not. it was a huge thing. i thought i would never make it through the academy."

"but you did."

"i did."

"thank you, jake," you murmur. the serious mask of the lieutenant slips, and your jake is back feeding your soul with that insufferable smirk.

jake's hands are still on your body, and now that you're convinced the elevator is not alive and wanting to crush you, the weight of him fills you with longing.

a longing you have tried to ignore.

jake must sense this too, because he pulls you over to straddle his lap. both hands settle on your face, and yours holds onto his wrists.

"is this how you saw your 'flirting' playing out?" you whisper, leaning into him, stopping millimeters from his mouth.

"did i see the pretty simpson straddling my waist? i can't say i did. i'll admit, i did fantasize about kissing you against the wall." his hands fall to your outer thigh, running his hands slowly up and down them. "this is so much better."

"you fantasize about me?" you ask, your restraint waning.

jake rolls his eyes and slides his hands up to your waist. your body betrays you by shivering under his touch, which doesn't go unnoticed by him. his lips spread into a smile. a genuine smile.

"oh, baby, please." the pet name sends another thrill through you. he's called you baby before. but it's never had the want behind it like it does now. "i know for a second you don't believe i haven't."

his eyes roam your face again, this time, searching for consent. "are you feeling okay enough for me to kiss you?"

"i am dying for you to kiss me, jake," you say. jake's mouth collides with yours in a mixture of relief and wanting. the tension in your bones releases as you press yourself further into him. the groan at the back of his throat causes one of your own to meet it.

jakes hands move to your back, pressing you against him. you are in his lap and still feel like you can't get close enough. his erection presses against his flight suit, a deep flush filling your cheeks.

reading your emotions, he murmurs against your ear, "i can't even attempt to hide what you do to me, but i'm not doing anything you aren't comfortable with."

"i'm certainly not comfortable with the idea of my father pulling the camera footage of his daughter and one of his pilots," you laugh into jake's neck.

"hmmmm," he hums against your ear. "yeah, that'll do it." jake helps you off his lap, and you settle into the side of him. his arms envelope you, pulling you close. "join me at the hard deck tonight? you know, given we're rescued in time to join everyone?"

you answer him with a kiss on the cheek. another wide smile forms, and he pulls you in for a sweet kiss.

a/n: i hope you enjoyyyyeddddd.

[sunrisecaminus]

HIII, I LOVE YOUR WRITING SM, ITS SRSLY SO SCRUMPTIOUS? <333

I wanted to request bumblebee/ratchet/knockout/ megatron headcanons of them finding reader working on a lot of figurines and their vehicle models. I want to see how the bots would react? (Esp ratchet, I love that grumpy old man sm)

Message - DUDE JBVPAVHUBSVO! I wish I could write more, but this is all I could think of. Also awe thanks! Don't make me blush :3

Bumblebee/Knockout/Ratchet/Megatron x Reader Headcanons

Summary - Human makes their Cybertronians friend a figurine of their alt mode. All their reactions to you making them the cutest thing ever.

Warning - Cute

Bumblebee

When he finds your little workshop, watching you making a polished figurine of his car, he was fully supportive of it. He loved everything that you did and every time he saw you making your projects, Bee stays around and observes how you make the details. There is a cute joke you guys do by telling him to "freeze!!!" when he is in his alt mode. You take pictures of what he looks like to help yourself have references. Bumblebee would try so hard not to make any sound while you work, but if you ask him if he likes it…you would get loud excited beeping about how beautiful you made him. The fact he would keep every single one of them will show you how much he appreciates them. If someone told you that the figurines suck, Bumblebee would go wild and make sure that person never comes close to you again. It's funny how mad he gets to protect you, but honestly its very sweet.

Knockout

Now, Knockout would be the most obnoxious person about finding out about your skill. This man would kiss and snuggle you every day for the rest of your life after he knows. Need references? Just ask him and he would stay in his alt mode for long periods of time so you can have one you could actually look at in person. Do you understand how much this guy would adore you? Do you understand how much he adores HIMSELF?! Do you remember how in the show, Starscream would brag to everyone how he was the one to kill cliffjumper? YEAH THAT'S KNOCKOUT! "Did you know I am a hired model? My body is so beautiful, a master of sculpting is using it for their art projects~" He will say it every where. Starscream being annoying? Knockout brags about being a model. Arachnid being a threatening meanie? Knockout will say you were useful for showing off his sexy body in sculptures. Megatron mad at him for having an unsuccessful mission? "Well big M, at least today I am going to outshine everyone on this ship by getting a sculpture version of me." He is weirdly supportive of it…in his own way. Knockout would cherish everything you do and even help buy you better supplies to help you improve. Everyday he would see you working on one and you would just feel a little kiss on your head to feel his loving energy.

Ratchet

"What in the Allspark are you doing? I am not someone for you to just make a replica of!" Yeah Ratchet is very much flustered about the whole thing. You making a figurine of his alt mode was adorable though, seeing a miniature him was so embarrassing. What you secretly don't know is that he put the figures up on the desk he has so he can appreciate your crafts while working. Does he wish you would just stop? Yes. Is he going to tell you? No! He would never tell you to stop doing things you like, just please stop making sculptures of him. He would try to nit pick the figurine to make you think you didn't do good and that would make you not sculpt him anymore, but when he saw how upset you got, thinking you made him look ugly…yeah he broke. Now he just blushes and says it looks good whenever you show him your finished product. Not a warm and fuzzy kind of guy, but he would secretly buy you more materials online so you could continue your dreams and passions. He understands the feeling of being good at your job, and doesn't want to ruin that for you. If he heard someone talk crap about your projects, Ratchet might get suspended for medical malpractice later.

Megatron

OF COURSE THIS EGOTISTICAL WARLORD LIKES IT! He would put the damn thing next to his throne to look at it from time to time. "Make me another or I will use you for target practice!" Anyone who says you are bad at making figurines will DIE. Don't question the decapitated body in the corner, please don't even mention it. He would title you are an architect on his ship and give you a respectable salary if you keep making him stuff. It doesn't even have to be sculptures of him. Make him a model of the ship and he would use it as a 3d blueprint whenever he wants to upgrade something on the ship. "And you see here, this is where I want the new engines to be placed." Starscream thinks this shit is stupid. Will he ever tell Megatron? FRAG NO! You are now the lord's favorite and nothing will change that. He would sit you on the arm of his throne and pet you on the top of your head. You will never leave, you will never switch sides, and you will never be killed. Oh and his threats are fake, that man secretly loves you and would never lay a finger on you. He would send a figure to Optimus as a "look at what my soldiers do for me" type shit. Bro, you could tell him that someone ruined your project and he would literally walk around the ship with you on his shoulder, asking you to point out who. Even if it was Airachnid, nah, bye Airachnid! He would not care who it was, do not ruin his pet's MASTERPIECE!

[ayumigotabittoolonely]

Gojo Satoru x older reader (7 age gap) headcanons

Synopsis - as a.normal adult that lived a stressful life , who thought she'll get a reason to live, pushing all the stress aside.

Warnings ⚠️ - f!reader , older reader. Reader is 28 and he is 21! A university student.

© not canon this is just a work of fiction, fuck off if you are pissed.

♡ Younger gojo - You first meet Satoru at a café near his university, where you often stop by after work. He’s loud, effortlessly charming, and annoyingly persistent when he notices you.

♡ Younger gojo - He overhears your conversation with a friend about work stress and, in typical Gojo fashion, inserts himself into the conversation with a teasing remark.

♡ Younger gojo- He starts showing up at the café more often, making playful comments about how it must be fate that you always run into each other.

♡ Younger gojo - He shamelessly flirts with you, dropping cheesy pick-up lines like, "So, how does it feel to be my ideal type?" or "You're a whole seven years older? Damn, you’re basically my cool, sexy senpai."

♡ Younger gojo - He teases you about your ‘serious adult job,’ acting mock-impressed whenever you talk about work responsibilities.

♡ Younger gojo-Despite his playful nature, you notice he actually listens when you vent about work. He remembers little details,your annoying coworker’s name, your favorite way to destress,and brings them up later in thoughtful ways.

♡ Younger gojo -You hesitate at first because of the age gap. Seven years may not be huge, but you still see him as a reckless, flirtatious university student.

♡ Younger gojo You remind him, "Aren't you too young for me?" only for him to smirk and reply, "Nah, you're just too perfect for me to ignore."

♡ Younger gojo - He works hard to prove he’s not just some immature kid. He’s persistent, but not in an overwhelming way he gives you space while making it clear he’s serious.

♡ Younger gojo - He loves calling you "Ms. [Last Name]" just to see your reaction. You roll your eyes, but he sees the small smirk you try to hide.

♡ Younger gojo-He lives to fluster you, whispering teasing things in public just to see you struggle to keep your composure.

♡ Younger gojo-He insists on paying for dates even though you earn more than him. If you tease him about it, he pouts dramatically: "Let me be a gentleman, okay?"

♡ Younger gojo-He loves stealing your work shirts or sweaters, claiming they ‘smell like you.’ It’s his comfort when he’s drowning in university assignments.

♡ Younger gojo-You’re more level-headed, but he has a way of making life exciting. He drags you out of your routine, making you loosen up and have fun.

♡ Younger gojo-He’s surprisingly good at giving emotional support. If you ever feel overwhelmed by work, he makes you take breaks and does something stupid just to make you laugh.

♡ Younger gojo-But he’s still Gojoz,immature at times. He complains dramatically when you act too much like an ‘adult’ “Babe, stop being so responsible and come play with meee.”

♡ Younger gojo-You find yourself being the one reminding him to study, eat properly, and sleep on time. You joke about babysitting him, but deep down, you don’t really mind.

♡ Younger gojo - He casually talks about the future with you, dropping comments like "When I graduate, we should move somewhere nice."

♡ Younger gojo - You worry about how people might view your relationship, but he never lets it get to him. "Who cares what they think? I have the coolest girlfriend ever, i mean mommy-" you smacked him.

To the ones Asking me if gojo was my favourite NO he is not ☹️ my suguru bby is, why do I create so much fics about him then?

Alright so Cannonically I m similar to gojo YES I m , like seriously. When I first saw gojo , I was like , he is me , I m him. So it's like , i know myself better than anyone else, that's why I make gojo fics more often, some fics are based on real life incidents 🫦

[sy7ygy]

Once I had a couple come into the store I worked at and when the girl wandered in after the guy, I could tell something was very clearly wrong with her. She looked like every step she took was painful and I just could tell it was either from withdrawal or a bad high (been around and heard about this stuff plenty my entire life, even dealing with abuse myself) and I just felt so bad for her. I didn't have much but I did have a little essential oil blend that can help with pain so I offered that to her after making sure she wasn't allergic to anything. She thanked me and sat in the corner until her man was done and then they left. I talked to my MANAGER shortly after and said "that poor girl was really going through it, I hope she feels better soon" and without missing a beat this woman says "yeah, but I know *why* she's in pain," and then rolled her fucking eyes. GOD I STILL GET HOT JUST TYPING IT OUT--it took so much control for me to calmly reply, "yes, but regardless if the reason, that is still someone's sister, babygirl, love of their life, daughter, you name it. That is someone's SOMEONE, having compassion is the least you can do, especially because no one is doing drugs because they are having a great time and enjoying life! Not the kind that causes this anyway. So be compassionate." She ended up agreeing and saying I was right and she should've thought about that but it just baffled me that I even had to.

You don't have to like weed but I find people who are vehemently anti-weed but claim to be left leaning infuriating. If you go into a rage because you smelled someone smoking pot, how the fuck do you expect to form community with people addicted to meth? It's easier to say you hate smokers than to say you hate all drug users in leftist spaces because one makes you sound a bit like a square while the other is the writing on the wall. You aren't anti-weed, you're anti-drug user and anyone who uses substances is not safe around you.

[kawhh]

Omg that temporary tattoo thing got me thinking about how in one tree hill when Hayley gets a 23 tattoo above her ass for Nate…

oh dark!quinn wouldn’t be able to think about anything else when he sees your reach up high for something and your shirt lifts up and he gets a peek of the 43 above your his ass.

He would ask you about it and when you wouldn’t admit it right away he would bend you over and he would fuck you from behind. You don’t get to finish because you lied but he cums over your back and swipes it across the 43 tattoo to further claim you, proper tattoo care be damned. Yeah that’s hot

My ask turn around time needs to be studied. There'll be a day when I catch up with them all and it doesn't take me a month lmao.

I gotta put One Tree Hill on my watch list now? I've always seen it talked about a lot but I've never actually seen any of it.

Warnings: Quinn losing his mind, nails sinking into skin, biting, blood mention, ripping clothes, rough fucking, cum play.

You'd done it as a cute little gesture. You adore him and you're oh so proud of him, it'd been the easiest tattoo choice of your life. You'd wanted it somewhere he'd be able to see on you, wanting it more for him than for you.

You hadn't fully considered the impact of it until it was etched into your skin, until the scratching had stopped. Flushing heavily in the car coming back from the studio. Embarrassed about how he'd react when he saw it, knowing it's permanent now.

Hadn't considered how he'd feel about the fact that you were a little undressed for the artist, laying there with their hands on your skin, touching above and around your ass.

Hadn't considered that it might make him more feral, you'd been high on the feeling of wanting to show him how proud of him you are.

You'd tucked your shirt into the back of your jeans as you walked into his apartment, needing more time to think of an excuse, a reason, before he saw it. He wouldn't be able to keep his hands off you for long.

It's a shame you'd immediately forgotten the plan, distracted by him asleep on the couch. Rushing around the kitchen to make him food ready for when he wakes up, worried about how exhausted he clearly was after practice. Guilty you weren't here for him when he got home.

Hadn't heard him stirring, hadn't heard him creep towards you, fixated on the little inch of your bare skin visible to his eyes as you reach up. The emotions battling for control in his eyes - the confusion, the savage need to claim you, to fuck you. The disbelief. His pupils fully dilated, his arms shaking.

You don't hear him kneeling behind you, needing to get a better look or he feels like he'll die. Your startled gasp as he reaches out to grab your hips, the way your cute little jump exposes even more of your skin.

The way his nails dig into your skin, his eyes wild, resting his forehead above the tattoo. Tensing up when you feel his hot breath against your skin, sending shocks up your spine.

"Sweetheart.. you gonna fucking explain?"

The way his nails dig in further when you don't answer, when you don't even offer an excuse. Just whimpers coming out of your mouth. Your gasp of pain when he bites around the tattoo, making a circle. A ring of bloody possession around his mark on you. You're even more his now. You can't go back from this. You've made this choice.

His veins burn with the need to be buried in your cunt. His nails no longer still - clawing into you, dragging them down your ass. Leaving a stinging trail that makes you hiss, softly crying out his name. Pleading for something. Needing something.

Your cries pushing him over the edge, rising to his feet, throwing you over his shoulder. He needs you now. Needs you bent over his fucking couch right now. Needs his cock in you. Needs to make a mess. Needs to stare at his mark on you when he rails you.

He's not gentle about throwing you on the couch, cradling your head from the harsh impact. He's not a savage after all.

He has no care for your clothes, viewing them as a barrier to what he needs and wants. Doesn't care to gently take them off you, doesn't care if he knows they're your favourite. These fucking jeans. They might make your ass look like a buffet but they're keeping him from your cute little cunt and it's illegal.

He doesn't need them fully off, just down enough. Yanking them down your thighs, restraining your legs with them around your knees. He has room. He'll make it work. Warming you up, pushing his aching head against the wet spot on your underwear, pushing the material into you, watching as you grip the couch and tremble. Lazy little thrusts, pushing it into you further, eyes narrowing on the tattoo.

Swiping his tongue across his bottom lip as he rips your underwear, laughing as you squeak in protest at the slight burn.

Doesn't hesitate when he has a clear shot, sinking balls deep inside your cunt instantly, pushing his weight against you, forcing you to bend further over the couch, restraining you even further. Gripping your hip with one hand, resting his fingers against the tattoo, needing to physically feel it.

He's a machine fucking into you, slamming you further over the edge of the couch with every thrust, slamming you back down against him when you creep forward too far. Making you scream at the brutality.

Begging him to slow down, whining about all your adorable little choices. You're just making it worse. He wants you ruined. He wants you to make a mess, to be a mess.

Spanking your clit while he pulls out, teasing you, pretending that he's giving into your demands, before he's slamming back in even harder. Feeling your walls clench down on him, feeling your pussy sucking him back in. How it's desperate for him to be inside you, even if you're vocally protesting.

He's chanting, whispering to himself about how badly he needs to cum on every thrust, tossing his head back, losing himself in the feel of your cunt. You're his. You're marked. He can do this every day. Fuck, he can fuck you every day. He can stare at the mark and make you cum every single second of every single day.

Moaning as his speed picks up even further, no longer even focused on your reactions, just needing to cum. Needing to cum. He's gotta cum. Fuck, he's gotta cum. He's so close.

Forcing his head back up so he can watch the tattoo bounce on every thrust, feeling like it's taunting him, violently pulling you back and thrusting, giving it every single percentage of energy he has, shocks going down his spine, his thighs cramping with the strain.

He can't resist pulling out as he cums, drowning your back in his seed. Panting as it drips down your back, aided by gravity. How it covers the tattoo, his hips jerking like he's cum again, the sight making his brain break.

He's collapsing against your back fully, the hand on your hip spreading it over the tattoo, trying to rub it into your skin. To mark you further. Running his hands through the rest of the cum, reaching up to force it into your mouth.

He'll keep you both here for a while, too exhausted to lift off you.

[lilghostiequinni]

Rude

Main Masterlist Charles Masterlist

Pairing: Verstappen!Girlfriend!female reader x Charles Leclerc

Warnings: Fluffy, None

Summary: Don't you just hate when your girlfriend loves your dogs more than you or when they take your spot in bed? Well, Charles does.

Requested: NO / yes

You met Charles through your twin brother when you were about 15 years old.

You didn't like going to your brother's kart races, but at the same time, you did like going to them, because when Max won races, it was like the world was right, nothing bad happened.

You didn't like it when Max lost because it meant something bad had happened.

It was conditioned into you from watching your brother for years that if Max failed, it was best to stay away from your dad for a few days to weeks or until Max won next, but sometimes even that wasn't good enough.

When you met Charles and you seen how his family and how family was supposed to work, you grew close to Charles.

For years, you avoided your feelings because you knew that your brother had become friends with the Monegasque and was close rivals on track.

You were afraid to say anything about how you felt because you were afraid of what your brother might say, who cares about everyone else, all you had in your life for the longest time was your brother.

You didn't want to disappoint him.

It wasn't until your brother literally locked you and Charles in a room within his apartment and refused to let you out that is until you confessed your feelings for each other.

It took all of an hour for the confession to happen and result in kissing, then turning into a full-on make-out until Max opened the door and interrupted but also saw one of his friends sucking face with his little sister.

About a year into your relationship with Charles, he asked you to move in, but you were hesitant because of the puppy you impulsively bought while Max and Charles were away for a race weekend.

Well, it was like three puppies, they were siblings, and the last three, you couldn't just leave them there.

They were Doberman, German Shepherd, and Husky mixes, and they were so cute.

When you told Max of your three little darlings, he laughed at you, then realized you weren't joking then he started laughing again, thinking of the reaction Charles would have.

Which, when you told him wasn't as bad as you thought it would be, but it could've been better.

But even after learning of your hellions, as Max started to call them after knowing them for an hour, Charles still insisted on moving in together.

Every time that Charles left for a race and you didn't go with him, the dogs took over his spot on the bed, laying with you as you slept, making sure that nothing happened to you.

When Charles had come home, for the first two nights he would have to fight off the dogs just to sleep.

So when he bought Leo, he thought that he would gain an ally against the other three, even if the two were still outnumbered, but no, that didn't happen.

The other three like to gain up on him, and Leo just joined in on the fun. It was not what Leo would just follow them he would actually help them.

Charles just gave up after a few months of trying to teach Leo to not help the other three dogs but he wasn't used to trying to, so he just gave up trying and let it happen most days.

Playing with the dogs most other times, it was actually really sweet what Charles did, playing with the hellions that you adopted without his knowledge, but even if he complains, he loves every minute of it because he's with you during them all.

A/N: Second in the 300 Follower Cele Driver poll

Tags: @llando4norris @mcmuppet @issi-loves-dannyric @ellen3101 @barcelonaloverf1life @charli123456789 @amz824 @taetae-armyyyyy @diaryofarandomkid @hadids-world

If you want to be removed from a tag list, let me know so I don't keep tagging you. If you are striked through, I don't know if you want to be tagged, but just let me know if you want me to continue or stop

[elliesbabygirl]

RUN YOUR MOUTH [ E. W ] PT. 1

Word count: 1.7k words

Series synopsis: You and ellie broke up when you wanted more than a fwb situationship , yet she can't stop talking about you, even when you're in the same room as her and her friends. ( + a little more ellie-focused but trust me please..)

warnings: mentions of drinking alcohol, sweering + no more warnings! unless you're not into lower-case intend from a lazy author...

author's note: I'm going further into the pool of writing for ellie williams..I'm excited n scared. ellie's lowkey (HIGHKEY) an asshole in this one but i wanted to try writing angst + this is like a 2023 draft-series i never finished, back when i was still a good writer😭part two soon.... If this doesn't flop. Please reblog + like if you've enjoyed this!!

The house was packed, bodies pressed together as music thumped through the walls, drowning out any coherent conversation. The air was thick with the smell of sweat, cheap beer, and a fire that burned in the fraternity's backyard.

Ellie leaned against the kitchen counter, one hand wrapped around a lukewarm can of beer, the other gesturing wildly as she recounted ths latest tirade about her repeated ex, you.

"I'm just saying, dude." She scoffed, shaking her head. "She's the most dramatic person I have ever met. Like everything was a huge life-ending crisis for her." Ellie took a long swig of her beer, catching her breath, before she continued trashing on you.

"If I didn't text her back in five minutes? boom, I was ignoring her. If i wanted a night out with you guys? I suddenly didn't care about her feelings." Jesse absentmindedly nodding along, not caring for Ellie's rant as he looked down at his own beer.

"It was exhausting, like, get a fucking grip." She added, shaking her head, again.

Dina snorted into her red cup. "you're so fucked up for this, Ellie."

"Am I wrong, though?" Ellie shot back, grinning at Dina. "Come on, you guys saw how she was, especially on double dates." Jesse raised his eyebrows. "I mean...yeah, you guys weren't the best, but don't go in on her when she's–"

"Right over there?" Dina finished, subtly nodding past Ellie.

Ellie turned, her stomach flipping when she locked eyes with you. you stood a few feet away, eyes glistening under the harsh kitchen lights. The half-empty drink in your hand trembled slightly, gripping it like it was the only thing keeping you grounded.

"You really couldn't help yourself, huh?" You said, voice barely audible over the loud music.

Ellie's smirk faltered. "Look, I was just–"

"No, I heard you, Ellie" You took a shakey breath, your voice rising just enough to make Jesse and Dina shift uncomfortably.

"You love this, don't you? Running your mouth and making me out to be some crazy bitch so you can feel better about how you treated me."

Ellie scoffed, pushing herself off the counter. "Oh my god, here we go again–"

"No, shut the fuck up, Ellie." The whole kitchen went silent. Even the distant bass of the music seemed to fade as everyone turned to watch the unfolding disaster.

"You act like I was the problem, but you were an asshole to me." You continued, voice cracked. "you shut me down the second things got hard, you made me feel like I was 'too much' just for wanting you, Ellie."

"now you're standing here, laughing about it to Dina and Jesse like I was worth nothing to you." Ellie's throat went dry. she could feel Dina and Jesse's eyes on her, waiting to see her response.

"i-"

you let out a humorless laugh, shaking your head as tears fall down your face.

"fuck you, Ellie." Voice wavering and eyes steady—filled with nothing but exhaustion and hurt. You had enough of fighting for your innocence, especially to somebody that never cared for you.

"You're a horrible person, Ellie, I hope you know that."

Ellie felt something twist in her chest, something ugly and painful, but before she could even try to respond, you shoved past her, disappearing through the crowd.

The silence lingered for a few beats before the music swallowed the tension, and people went back to their drinks, their conversations, and their distractions.

Meanwhile, Ellie stood frozen, gripping the beer can that indented in her hand. She could feel the weight of your words, heavy and suffocating, echoing louder than the music ever could in her head.

Her pulse was hammering against her ribs as your words sank in.

You're a horrible person, Ellie, I hope you know that.

The kitchen was still thick with tension, even as people settled back into their conversations. Dina and Jesse exchanged a worrisome glance, both hesitating before turning their attention back to Ellie.

"Dude.." Jesse muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"That was—"

"Yeah, I got it." Ellie snapped, tossing her beer can onto the counter. It sloshed over the rim, pooling next to a pile of abandoned red solo cups. Her jaw was clenched so tight it ached, but she forced out a breath, trying to shake off the burning in her chest.

Dina eyes her warily. "you good?"

Ellie wanted to say yeah, wanted to roll her eyes, crack a joke, and pretend like the whole thing hadn't left her skin burning with embarrassment. Yet, her throat felt tight and her fingers twitched like they didn't know what to do with themselves.

So instead, she scoffed. "Am I a horrible person?" She asked, looking between them. "Seriously? She was asking for more than what we agreed on."

Dina's expression was unreadable. "Ellie—"

“She knew what this was!” Ellie continued, voice rising despite herself. “I told her from the start—I wasn’t looking for anything serious, but suddenly, it’s my fault because she caught feelings?"

She ran a tattooed hand through her short auburn hair, frustration clear in her words. "Like, yeah, we spent time together, we had fun, but that didn't mean I wanted the whole relationship package. She just—expected more, like I was supposed to change for her."

"But I'm the bad guy?"

Jesse sighed at Ellie's behavior. “You were the one talking shit about her while she was in the room.”

“Yeah, well, maybe she shouldn’t have listened in on my conversation.” Ellie shot back, but even as she said it, it felt weak, forced even, as if she was putting on a 'tough guy' act.

Dina crossed her arms, staring at Ellie like she was trying to pick apart a puzzle. "you really don't get it, don't you?"

Ellie frowned. "Get what?"

Dina let out a slow breath. “You hurt her, and instead of just letting her move on, you stood here and made a fucking joke out of it. Right in front of her.”

Ellie opened her mouth to argue, but nothing came out, because what was she supposed to say? That she didn’t mean for it to get back to her? That it wasn’t that serious? That it didn’t hurt as bad as you made it seem?

Because that would be a lie. And if Ellie was honest with herself, she knew the truth.

Ellie knew she wasn't built for commitment. She knew she got too comfortable, letting things go further than she should have. Let you believe it could be more—because, for a while, maybe Ellie wanted to believe it too.

But she was always going to pull away.

And now, standing in the mess she made, she felt sick.

"Fuck." Ellie muttered under her breath, dragging a hand over her face.

Dina and Jesse were still watching her, waiting to see what she’d do next. She could tell they were both teetering on the edge of saying something, maybe telling her to go after you, or maybe just reminding her what an asshole she was.

Ellie swallowed. “I need some air.”

Without another word, she pushed past them, heading for the back door. The party raged on around her, but for the first time all night, she felt completely and utterly alone.

The cool night air hit Ellie’s skin as she stepped outside, but it did nothing to settle the tightness in her chest. The backyard was quieter than the house, the muffled bass of the music thudding through the walls. A couple of people sat around a fire pit, laughing, passing a joint between them. None of them looked at her.

Good. She didn’t feel like talking.

Ellie exhaled sharply and dragged a hand down her face, then pulled a cigarette from her pocket. Her fingers shook as she lit it, but she told herself it was just the cold. She took a slow drag, letting the smoke sit in her lungs before releasing it into the night.

your voice was still ringing in her ears.

You're a horrible person.

Ellie clenched her jaw.

She’s just mad, Ellie told herself. People say shit when they’re mad.

But the way you had looked at Ellie—like she was something cruel, something heartless—it unsettled her.

A horrible person.

Ellie had never thought of herself that way. Sure, she had flaws. She could be distant, avoidant, maybe even selfish, but horrible? That felt like something else entirely.

Yet, wasn’t this exactly why Ellie never let things get serious? Why she bailed the second people wanted more from her?

Because deep down, maybe Ellie was horrible.

Maybe Ellie didn’t know how to care about someone the way they wanted her to, maybe she never would.

The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth, worse than the lit cigarette near her mouth.

She was so caught up in her own thoughts that she almost didn’t hear the sound of footsteps approaching.

Dina.

Ellie sighed, knowing she wasn’t about to get out of this conversation. “If you’re here to lecture me, just—don’t.”

Dina ignored that and leaned against the railing beside her. “I wasn’t gonna lecture you.” Ellie glanced at her, unconvinced.

Dina sighed. “Look, I’m not saying what happened back there wasn’t messy. It was, but…” She hesitated. “You’re not a bad person, Ellie.”

Ellie let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah? Tell that to y/n.”

Dina was quiet for a moment. “You really liked y/n, didn’t you?”

Ellie’s grip on her cigarette tightened. “I don’t know.”

“Bullshit.”

Ellie exhaled, watching the smoke curl into the night. “I did, but I liked things the way I wanted them and that wasn’t enough for y/n.”

Dina shook her head. “Because no one wants to feel like they’re just an option, Ellie.”

Ellie swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. “I never meant to hurt y/n.”

“I know,” Dina said softly. “But you did.”

Ellie didn’t have a response to that.

The door opened again, and Jesse poked his head out. “Hey—some guy just puked in the kitchen, so if you’re looking for another disaster, there you go.”

Dina groaned. “Oh my god.”

Ellie barely reacted. Her mind was still stuck in the kitchen, in the way your voice cracked, the way you had looked at her like she was something irredeemable.

Dina sighed and gave Ellie’s shoulder a squeeze before heading back inside with Jesse, leaving her alone again.

Ellie took one last drag of her cigarette before flicking it into the grass. Then she sat down on the backdoor steps, elbows on her knees, head in her hands.

She had come outside for air, but no matter how deeply she breathed, it still felt like she was suffocating.

© 𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙞𝙚𝙨𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡 ─ 𝙖𝙡𝙡 𝙧𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙙. 𝙙𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙘𝙤𝙥𝙮, 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙤𝙧 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙢𝙮 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠 𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙢𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙖 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢𝙨.

COMMENT TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST!!

[meelusinee]

Fem!reader x Mattheo, who had given her the Amortentia potion,can be smut or something like one of the teachers/students realise somethings up

LOVE'S WORST ENEMY | M.R X READER

word count \ 3.8k | not so fluff | slash / mattheo riddle / fem!reader

in which mattheo uses amortentia to get his girl

minor cw & tw: use of amortentia (which is considered drugging) & manipulation

You had never liked Mattheo before.

That wasn’t to say you disliked him, or that you hated him. Rather, you just never truly knew him well enough to like him.

Mattheo was Slytherin’s signature rugged bad boy. A prankster that walked the line of ‘too much’ like it was an already snorted line of cocaine and he wanted more. He had friends that were high up as well. Pureblood aristocrats who had millions in their family wealth. His reputation had been built for him by the time his name had been called for the Sorting Hat, and he seemed to love playing into what everyone thought was true.

And you? 

You weren’t known at all. Or at least, you weren’t known like that. Just a regular student who tried to live a regular life. A little better than average grades, and a couple of close friends, though not much more than that. The most you were known as was Hermione Granger’s quiet friend, though barely anyone knew you two even talked in the first place. 

Which led you confused as to why Mattheo had decided you were his. You weren’t even sure how it started. You supposed it was the tutoring. 

Mattheo could feel his heartbeat against the paper he was holding. 

It was beating so hard he could feel every palpitation inside his veins. He had never felt this way before, had he? Nervous was not a word that was in his dictionary. He had the impulse control of a raccoon with rabies, he hated the concept of nervousness like a rabid dog feared water. 

Which is why he hated that you made him this way. 

You, a regular student. Granger’s quiet friend, maybe a bit of a high achiever. A tutor in Charms, Transfiguration and now Potions. 

Just regular. Normal. 

So why was he so attracted to you? He didn’t know. 

And he hated it. Hated that he had no control of the situation, Hated that you probably only knew him from his reputation. He could treat you so well, he knew that. Any date that you wanted, any gift that you were promised as a child and never got. Absolutely anything. 

But you didn’t know that. And he hated not having power over that. 

So, instead of slowly making you fall in love with him all while knowing you might never truly love him, like a regular person would, he decided to go through a faster route. Amortentia.

Which led to him failing his recent Potions exams about Amortentia. 

It was a simple plan. Fail anything relating to love potions until Slughorn hunted him down. Stare at him with those eyes that seemed to scare the professor into allowing anything that Mattheo wanted, and then ask to be tutored by you. After that, he’d say yes. Mattheo knew he would say yes. 

And he knew that he’d get you alone after that.

“Excuse me,” Mattheo whispered, a small slip of paper laid in his hands as he stood next to your desk in the library. You had notes scattered around, some almost falling off the desk. “Are you Y/N?”

You looked up at him with those beautiful eyes of yours, completely innocent and unknowing of the entire world. It was absolutely adorable to say the least. “Yes?”

“Good.” he said, holding up the small slip of paper. “Slughorn paired us up together? Tutoring?”

You looked at the slip in his hand confusedly. You had indeed offered to start tutoring for Slughorn, but you hadn’t been told that you were meant to be tutoring someone just yet. Though, Slughorn was paying you, so you weren’t complaining too much. 

“What did you need help with?” you asked him curiously, taking the slip with those smooth hands of his. They looked so small, so delicate. He couldn’t wait to feel them melting against his chest.

Mattheo shrugged simply. “Amortentia, I think.”

You nodded and chuckled at that, closing your book and sitting up a bit straighter. “It is a hard potion, especially the time it takes. Do you have everything you need for it?”

He smiled a bit sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t know what I need.”

You looked at him before shaking your head. “That’s probably why you need tutoring.” you chuckled, pulling up a list from your pile of notes spread across the desk. “I have a list here, you can ask Slughorn for the materials. He should still be in his office right now, he only goes to his room after sundown.” you muttered, handing the list to him. “Come back after, okay?”

“Thank you.” he nodded and smiled quietly, looking down at the list before walking off. Mattheo could feel your eyes on him. He wasn’t sure what you thought about him. 

Maybe you thought that he was quiet, or weird. Or maybe you already knew of his reputation. Would that be a bad thing? He wasn’t so sure. He knew that his soft tone and his smiles would make you question what you knew already. And he knew that you were going to be more forgiving then most people would.

And that’s exactly what he needed. 

He sighed as he looked down at the list, a small smirk growing on his lips as he saw the ingredients he had months memorizing. 

1 piece Bdellium 5 Flutterby Bush Flowers 1 sprigs Knotgrass 3 Lacewing Flies 1 drop Lethe River Water 6 Mistletoe Berries 1 measure Pearl Dust 1 measure Powdered Asphodel Root 2 measures Powdered Unicorn Horn 4 drops Rose Oil 6 Rose Petals 1 cup Standard Potioning Water

Mistletoe berries were easy to grab. Pearl dust could be modified to be more potent. Mattheo was sure that Theodore had a rose that was raised more potent than three, and the Unicorn Horn was easily acquirable as well. He was sure that he could modify the ingredients to make it more potent, to make it longer or stronger whenever someone took it.

When he would make you take it. 

He chuckled under his breath and pocketed the list of ingredients, already knowing exactly what he was getting himself into. His heart was racing in his fingertips, though this time it was full of anticipation. 

“I have a gift for you.” he muttered quietly.

You looked up as Mattheo approached you with a small box of chocolates, a small smile growing on your face as you saw him. Mattheo and you had been hanging out more often ever since he started being your makeshift Potions student. 

He was a good guy. You didn’t care what everyone else said about him, because you knew him better than they did. Sure, he was rambunctious, but what teenager wasn’t? He was kind to you, and he listened much more than anyone else ever had. His friends were nice too, albeit a bit harsher compared to him. Reckless womanizers that threw money on alcohol and impulse spendings that made no sense to you. You knew it didn’t care that it didn’t make that much sense to you though. 

“You got a gift?” you asked him with a small smile. 

“Mhm.” he smiled at you, handing you the gift. “Chocolate.”

You gasped quietly as you took in the box as a whole. It was a heart shape, a box that had been painted pastel pink with lace glued on the edges. The chocolate seemed homemade, not quite from the beginning but enough to seem homemade to you. There was a small note on the back of the cover, which stated that they were made with a caramel filling in the middle. “Wow.”

Mattheo chuckled quietly, looking at you with a small smile and a look in your eyes you couldn’t quite place. “Do you like it?” he asked quietly.

“I love it!” you said excitedly, eating one of the chocolates almost instantly. “Oh my, that’s delicious.”

Mattheo sat down next to you with a small smirk planted on his face, watching you eat the chocolates one after another. You didn’t seem to care much about anything else other than the chocolate in the moment, though you also knew that was nothing more than a moment-level fixation.

He had made them himself, after all.

You had helped him brew Amortentia, finishing your group potion just last week. What you didn’t know was that he had memorized every single step and made his own in the dungeons after he left the library every night. What you didn’t know was that he had inserted it into the chocolate. 

“Does it taste good?” he asked you curiously.

You nodded your head and giggled quietly. “It tastes really good, actually.”

He hummed at that, ruffling your hair before looking down at his watch. “I have to meet with Theo and Blaise, but I wanted to give those to you first.” he smiled at you. “Can we meet up later?”

You looked up at him with a look in your eyes that almost made him crumble at the sight. It was absolutely innocent and adorable, the picture perfect representation of everything that he had fallen for. He felt his resolve crumbling in that moment, wanting nothing more than to stay there with you forever. But he had to resist the urge.

Otherwise, his potion wouldn’t work.

“Yeah, we can do that.” you smiled quietly at him. “If the library’s closed, we can meet in the Astronomy Tower right?”

He nodded. “Mhm.” he said, kissing the back of your hand again. 

“Okay.” you said, nodding and giggling as he kissed the back of your hand. “I’ll see you later?”

“I’ll see you later.” he whispered back. He could already see a new look of him forming in your eyes, he could feel the way your heart was beating inside of your fingers.

This would be fun.

You felt different.

Your heartbeat was beating faster than you ever felt it beat, and you had escaped from the library early to hide inside of your dorm room. Your body was hot, sweating especially near your hands. You weren’t sure if you were sick, if you would have to cancel your plans on Mattheo due to some fever.

Oh, Mattheo.

Anytime you thought about Mattheo, you felt all of your symptoms worsening. You weren’t sure whether that was a good thing or not. And you also weren’t sure what you were going to tell your roommates either.

Especially Hermione.

“Y/N?” she called out, looking at you with a small frown as she noticed you laying in bed. You were meant to be studying in the library with her right now, though that wouldn’t work if you weren’t exactly there. “Are you doing okay? You weren’t in the library.”

You nodded before shaking your head. “Uh, I don’t know. I’m really hot right now.”

“Do you have a fever?” she asked you curiously. “Or any other symptoms?”

You shrugged your shoulders, clearing your throat as you sat up. Your cheeks were flushed warm and your body was shaking slightly, though it only seemed like that whenever you thought of Mattheo. Did he have some sickness he accidently gave you? There was a chance he was asymptomatic.

“Uh, I’m really hot.” you muttered. “My palms are sweaty. And my heart’s beating really fast.”

Hermione frowned at that, placing her books on her bed and walking over to you. “When did your symptoms start?” she asked as she placed her hand against your forehead.

“Anytime that I think about one of my,” you muttered, clearing your throat. “One of my friends.”

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows at that. “Whenever you think about someone?”

You nodded your forehead. “I think that he might be asymptomatic. We’ve been hanging out recently for tutoring, he needed help with potions.”

“Has this been recent?” Hermione asked, one of her eyebrows raised. 

Your eyebrows furrowed at that, looking up at her as you saw the small upward tilt of her lips. “Okay Mione, what is it?”

She chuckled before shaking her head. “Could it be that you might be in love with him?”

You looked up at her confusedly. Blinking once, twice.

Could you be in love with him?

“Maybe.” you whispered quietly, nulling it over in your mind. Mattheo was a good person, wasn’t he? Just misunderstood, certainly. He always listened to you, he made you feel happy. Something you could never place your finger on. But maybe that thing was love.

Could it be love?

“Are you going to hang out with your friend later?” Hermione asked you, watching you nod. “Maybe you can test out your theory there then.

You nodded quietly. “Maybe I will.”

Mattheo was already sitting in the Astronomy Tower when you got there, though you made sure to keep your steps extra quiet when you climbed up. You wanted to observe him first, to watch him when he wasn’t being perceived by you. You thought it might help your theory.

Yet all it did was make your heart beat erratically.

He was absolutely beautiful in the moonlight. It shined on his hair perfectly, the small lantern he had brought showing off every single freckle on his arms and face. You wished that you could make a constellation out of them. Fingers trailing up and down each scar and mark.

“Y/N?”

You snapped out of it when you realized Mattheo was now standing right in front of you. “Mattheo!”

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly, hand moving to caress your cheek. You could feel your heart thumping at the feeling. “You look rather zoned out.”

You shook your head out of its daze with a small smile, walking past him to sit down on the small blanket he brought for the both of you. “Thank you.” you smiled.

“Course,” he said with a chuckle. “Anything for you.”

You felt the pitter patter of your heart rise even more, a flush covering your cheeks. Anything for you?

“I don’t think I got to ask if you finished the chocolate.” he said to you. His voice sounded like raw honey that you would cover a sweet treat with, something that would melt down your throat. “Did you like it?”

“Mhm.” you nodded. “Loved it.”

Mattheo smirked, in a way that you had never seen before. Almost like he had a plan or something going on behind those brown eyes. But you seemed to lose yourself in those eyes before you could realize what the smirk really meant.

“Y/N?” he called out again to you, eyebrows furrowed as you zoned back to reality again. “Are you sure you’re okay? You keep zoning out.”

You felt your heartbeat in your fingers at the concern in his voice. He genuinely cared about you. And that alone made your cheeks flush warmer and warmer until everything was spilling out of your mouth. “You make me feel sick.”

Mattheo blinked for a moment before looking at you once more. “What?”

“My heart feels like it’s pounding out of my chest,” you whispered quietly. “And my face is always warm. I can’t stop myself from sweating even though I hate sweating. And my stomach has these weird butterflies too.”

Mattheo’s face was confused for a moment before a wide smirk broke out on his face, chuckles escaping his throat before he could stop them. “You think you’re sick?”

“Yes!” you pouted. “So don’t laugh at me.”

Mattheo shook his head before leaning closer, close enough to where you could see how full his eyelashes really were. They almost made you jealous. “Y/N,” he whispered quietly. “You sound like you’re in love. Not sick.”

“That’s what Mione said.” you grumbled quietly.

Mattheo raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t my second opinion mean it’s truthful?”

You looked at him with the best pout you could muster. That seemed to be enough for him, as his hands cradled your face and his lips gently locked onto yours.

This, you thought, is what heaven must feel like. 

His lips were soft and sweet, something you couldn’t seem to get enough of. And his tongue felt like it was yours with the way it slotted so well into your mouth. You didn’t mind the faint taste of blood from a busted lip he had gotten from a fight some time ago, especially since your senses were running on overdrive from the scent of his perfume running your head heady.

He pulled away all too soon, eyes locking on yours. “You’re a rather nice kisser.”

You smiled softly at that, teeth biting your lip as you looked at him. This was your first ever kiss, and it was absolutely perfect.

You didn’t want to change it for the world.

Hermione was observant. 

That was a trait she prided herself on quite frequently. Whether it be her keen ability to think of a spell almost as soon as the situation needed it, or her ability to observe others from an intellectual standpoint. Anything textbook was something she could figure out easily.

What she couldn’t figure out was why you were acting so differently.

Ever since you had confessed that you were in love with someone, she had noticed the signs. You came back that night extremely dazed with marks along the side of your neck and legs. She didn’t question then.

You’d skip out on your study sessions from time to time to hang out with whoever you were so in love with. She didn’t question then. Nor did she question the ‘dazed’ look you’d get in your eyes whenever she mentioned the existence of your lover.

That wasn’t until she learned it was Mattheo.

She was sure that she wasn’t meant to know. Your curtains were mostly closed, though they were open enough for her to tell his figure from anywhere. 

And that left her mind whirring.

Hermione had heard rumors about the Slytherins learning Amortentia potions for whatever reason that Slytherins needed to learn Amortentia for. She never questioned it at first, for she thought it was a good potion to learn about. Knowing about Amortentia meant that you knew about the signs of poisoning and how to prevent it from escalating further.

And Hermione could easily see the signs within you.

The dazed look in your eyes. The infatuation you had suddenly gained with no knowledge of it before. The way you broke rules to nurture the love. Case in point, somehow sneaking a male Slytherin into the girl’s Gryffindor dormitories.

And Hermione was already getting sick of it.

So much so that she decided to confront you.

“Hi Mione!”

Hermione looked up to see you walking towards her with a small smile, teeth marks and hickeys plastered clearly on your neck. Those were the same marks that girls used to have when Mattheo would hook up with them almost two years ago. Hermione found it quite ironic that they seemingly stopped one day.

“Mystery guy again?” she asked.

You nodded, and Hermione noticed the look in your eyes almost immediately. It was the same look Ron had gotten when Romilda had tried to poison Harry.

“Who is your mystery guy?” she asked you confusedly. “You talk so much about him, yet I never figured out who you’re talking about.

You looked at her with furrowed eyebrows, quite obviously confused. “I thought I told you?”

“No, you didn’t.” she said.

“Oh!” you said before shaking your head. “It’s Mattheo! He asked me out, that one day I thought I was sick.”

Hermione felt her eyebrows furrowing at that. “Mattheo?”

“Mione,” you whined. “He’s a good person. Just because his parents suck doesn’t mean he sucks.”

“The fact that that is your opening leaves me concerned.” she said sternly. “Are you sure he doesn’t have you under some potion?”

“He wouldn’t drug anyone!” you said, ignoring the librarian’s hush that echoed through the library walls. “It’s not my fault that everyone seems to judge him. If you got to know him, maybe you’d understand.”

“Y/N,” Hermione sighed, closing her book. “I’m not saying that because of his reputation. I’m saying that because I’ve noticed the signs in you.”

“What signs?” you asked incredulously.

“The dazed eyes, the lovesick puppy act,” she listed off. “The fact that you’re breaking rules to sneak him into our dormitory. Literally everything.”

You just rolled your eyes at that. “That means nothing.”

“Weren’t you tutoring him on Amortentia when you met?” she asked incredulously.

“That means nothing either.” you spat, standing up with your bag in hand. “I’m going somewhere else to study.”

“Y/N!” Hermione said, unable to grab her books in time to catch up with you leaving the library.

This wasn’t going to end well.

“Mattheo!”

Mattheo turned his head as he heard the sound of your voice, his mind echoing as he repeated it over and over in his mind. There was something wrong.

“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly.

You had tears running down your cheeks and a quivering lip, almost like a kicked puppy. He felt his heart breaking at the sight. 

He cooed gently as his hands guided you to his lap, pressing kisses against your temple, cheeks and lips whenever he could. You almost immediately melted into his lap, hands wrapping around his body instinctively.

“What’s wrong baby?” he asked again.

You sniffled. “Hermione thinks that you drugged me.”

Mattheo felt his body stiffen slightly, though he didn’t want you to catch that. “Why would she think that?”

You rolled your eyes before going on to explain the situation, how Hermione had listed symptoms of the Amortentia potion and how you ‘apperently’ fit the box. Mattheo didn’t want to say that you did fit the box, that he had drugged you with Amortentia. What he did know was that he would have to do something about Hermione after this.

“I’m sorry love,” he whispered gently.

You huffed. “It’s just not fair how nobody can see you for you!” you muttered. “You wouldn’t do that, right?”

“Never.” he lied, with such a conviction that even the universe might make it true. “I would never do that to you, my love.”

“Good.” you nodded before sniffing again.

Mattheo hummed and kissed the tip of your nose again, pulling out a small flask of his drink. “I know you don’t drink often,” he whispered, opening the flask and letting you sniff it. “But do you want a drink right now?”

You looked at the drink before nodding, taking the flask from him and drinking as much as you could in one gulp. Mattheo chuckled as his thumbs caressed your waist, loving the slightly pink hue that your eyes had taken.

He also didn’t mind the new hickeys that appeared down your neck that night either.

AUTHOR'S NOTE

well this was quite a fun prompt! i know that this was technically a smut request, but i have a moral thing against love potions being influential in terms of romantic or sexual intercourse (if anyone is curious, i can so make another post about that) and i doubt i'd be very good at representing SA in a harry potter fanfiction, so there isn't any smut for this one. however! i did find this fun to write, knowing that this is just fiction. so thank you for the request anon! u can read part two here!

AS ALWAYS - please like, comment, and reblog! have a lovely day!

[oopsiedaisydeer]

ʟᴇᴛ ɪᴛ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴ

…𝘨𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘯𝘣𝘰𝘺!𝘤𝘩𝘳𝘪𝘴 𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴 𝘥𝘢𝘪𝘴𝘺 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘵𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦

phone sex, angst, loneliness, mental health struggles, sub!chris?, longing, vulnerability, intimacy, anonymous relationship

word count - 1.9k

The lecture hall hummed with the usual mid-morning buzz. She sat in her usual spot up the back, the dim lighting above her making the world feel like it was happening just a little too far out of reach. Her pen danced across the notebook as the professor spoke, but her thoughts kept wandering. She let her gaze wander too, getting distracted by a group a couple rows in front of her, talking amongst themselves, laughing. One guy in particular stood out, the messy brown hair, the posture and his laugh. It was almost familiar. The boy turned slightly, and she caught a glimpse of his face. Too many emotions hit her all at once as she recognised him.

Chris Sturniolo. 

She hadn’t expected to see him at university. He had only been a year ahead of her, part of a different crowd back in their small town. They weren’t exactly close back then, but she noticed him. Too much, probably. He was handsome, loved by all, a star athlete, and someone she had quietly admired from afar back. She remembered how often she would find herself stealing glances at him in the hallways, her heart fluttering whenever he passed by.

She almost told him once. That one moment, standing at the edge of the bleachers after the final game of his senior season, watching him laugh with his friends. She’d almost spoken up. Almost told him everything. How she felt. But then, she chickened out. The moment passed, and she convinced herself that it was better left unsaid.

And here he was, sitting just a few rows ahead in this university lecture hall, surrounded by friends, completely unaware of the secret she’d carried all those years. She couldn’t stop staring, even if she was doing everything she could to pretend she wasn’t.

She quickly looked down at her notebook, heart pounding in her chest. No way he remembers me, she thought. He probably doesn’t even know I exist.

Later that night, Chris sat in his dimly lit dorm room.

The weight of the day had settled over him like a heavy fog. The typical distractions weren’t helping. Parties? He wasn’t interested. Chasing some girl? Didn’t feel right. He hadn’t felt truly good in a while, not with anything, with anyone. The last few months at university had been lonely, despite being surrounded by people.

He didn’t really know how to be close to anyone anymore, so overwhelmed by the difference between suburban and city life. He found himself longing for stuff but lacking the conviction to make it happen. There were nights where his own hands weren’t enough. Porn lost its appeal months ago.

That’s when he stumbled across it. A hotline. Anonymous, safe, and just what he needed. He wasn’t looking for a relationship or something serious. He just wanted to feel close to someone, even if only for a few minutes. To have a connection without having to expose himself in the ways he wasn’t ready to.

He hesitated, but figured he didn’t have much to lose. With a few quick taps, he dialed the number.

“Hello, this is Daisy,” came the soft voice on the other end, smooth and soothing. Something about it made his pulse pick up.

Chris hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Uh… I don’t really know what I’m doing. I just… needed someone to talk to.”

“That’s okay,” Daisy’s voice was calm, welcoming. “I’m here to listen. Whatever you need.”

Chris swallowed, the easy familiarity of her tone loosening something inside him. “I don’t know… I just feel so... empty, you know? Like there’s something missing.”

There was a brief silence. Chris wasn’t sure if she was just being polite or if she actually understood. But then her voice came back, gentle yet firm.

“Loneliness is tough to carry. But you don’t have to do it alone, not tonight.”

Chris exhaled sharply. She was saying exactly what he needed to hear, and the calm in her voice made him feel like he could let his guard down a little. He felt the weight of his words as they left his mouth.

“Yeah... I don’t know. I just feel like I can’t really... be with anyone. Like I can’t get close. But I need it. I need to feel something.”

“You deserve to feel close to someone. It’s okay to want that, baby.”

The words, followed by the pet name, hit him harder than he expected. Something inside him cracked open, and before he knew it, he was saying things he hadn’t intended. 

“I just... I want to feel like I’m... wanted. Like someone’s here with me. Not just... in the usual way, but like I’m actually... seen. You know?”

Her voice was soft but firm. It was like she could sense the vulnerability behind his words, even though they were both hidden behind the veil of anonymity. 

“I see you. And I can make you feel seen, if you’ll let me.”

Something about that promise stirred something deep inside Chris. It wasn’t just the loneliness anymore; it was the pull of wanting her, wanting to connect in a way that felt both comforting and thrilling at the same time. It stirred something deep in him, and before he knew it, his body was reacting, an instinctual response he couldn’t control.

“Please.” he found himself whining, a bulge already forming. 

“Are you hard, baby?” Daisy’s voice was quieter now, almost teasing.

Chris let out a strained breath. “Mhm.”

“Good.” She let the word hang there, a subtle promise in her voice. “I want you to trace your pretty cock with your fingers. Just the outline of it, on top of your boxers. Lightly, softly. Can you do that for me?”

“Yeah.” Chris murmured, following her instructions. His pulse quickened, and he hesitated for a moment before doing as she asked, the action feeling foreign yet somehow natural in the moment.

“Now, take it out.” Chris groans at Daisy’s words, the soft, teasing lilt to her voice. 

“Just like that,” Daisy’s voice continued, cool and soft. “Lightly, just enough to feel it. I want to hear from you.”

She noticed the way his breaths were picking up, and there was something different in her voice now. The usual professionalism slipped a little, the edge of something more... real, slipping through.

“Tell me what you want, baby,” she said, her words softer. “Say it. Let me take care of you.”

She tried to keep herself focused, tried to not to let the rush of unexpected arousal cloud her thoughts. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to feel this, not for a stranger, not over the phone, and especially not when it was just another job.

She could hear Chris’s breaths, sharp and uneven. He was close, she could tell by the way his words faltered.

“Are you still with me, baby?” Daisy asked softly, the pet name slipping out almost automatically.

Chris’s voice crackled back. “Yeah… just... god, it feels so good.”

Her pulse quickened. It was supposed to be just a call, just a transaction. But his words, the way his voice wavered with need, felt different. Too real. She couldn’t deny the heat creeping up her neck as her mind raced. She had never let herself get this affected before. But there was something about him that stirred her. Something about the rawness in his voice made her wonder what it would be like to have this kind of closeness, not for money, not for a role.

“Good boy,” she whispered again. “Now, keep going. Touch yourself for me. Just like that. I want to hear from you. Let me know how it feels.”

Chris let out a ragged breath, the sound of him following her direction ringing in Daisy’s ears. She pressed her lips together, willing herself to stay professional, to keep the distance that was usually so easy for her when other lonely men called.

But tonight, tonight was different. Her chest tightened with the strange, unfamiliar emotion twisting in her stomach. Maybe it was her loneliness, maybe it was the isolation of the job, or maybe it was just him. His voice, so lost in his own desire, so vulnerable in ways he didn’t realise. 

She bit her lip, suppressing a sigh that threatened to slip out. This was supposed to be about the money.

She had to remind herself of that.

“Tell me what you want,” she said, her voice dipping into something more commanding. It was easier to stay detached when she was in control, when the power was hers. But her pulse raced against her will. “Say it. Let me hear what you need.”

Chris’s breath hitched. “I. God, I just want to feel you. I want to...”

His words trailed off into a groan, and Daisy's breath faltered. She pushed herself to maintain control, to keep the rhythm of the moment. Her fingers tightened around the phone, but she felt the heat in her own body building, her hand edging closer to where she felt the need the most. Unexpected, unwelcome, but undeniable.

Her pulse quickened, but she tried to keep it in check. “You’re close, aren’t you? Let go for me, baby. Let it happen. You’ve earned it, sweet boy.”

Chris let out a groan, his hand moving faster as she encouraged him. He was almost there, and in that moment, it felt like everything in the world was narrowing down to just this. Her voice, his need, the warmth of the call.

When he finally reached his release, it wasn’t just the physical relief. There was something else, something deeper that he didn’t know he was craving. He could hear her breath, soft and steady, as she guided him through it.

Chris’s response came in a guttural groan, and the sound of his release sent a jolt of heat through Daisy’s chest. She instructed him to slow down, to catch his breath, her own chest tightening as she focused on keeping everything in check. She reminded herself that this was just her job, just another call.

But, as she released a breath of her own, something stirred inside her that shouldn’t have. Something warm and soft. She quickly shut it down. She wasn’t supposed to want this. She wasn’t supposed to want him. She had been called by dozens of men, heard dozens of voices, and she’d never felt this way.

“Good boy,” she murmured, not even realizing how tender her voice had become. “You did so well.”

There was a quiet pause as Chris caught his breath on the other end of the line. He didn’t know that Daisy, in some strange way, felt just as affected as he did. 

“Thank you,” he whispered, not knowing if he was thanking her for the physical release or for something else. But Daisy didn’t reply right away. There was a brief silence on the other end of the line.

When she spoke again, her voice was back to its professional calm. “Of course, baby. Take care of yourself tonight.”

But as he hung up, a strange ache settled in her chest. The kind that hadn’t been there before. She couldn’t help it. Maybe it was his voice. Maybe it was the vulnerability he had let slip. Or maybe it was just her own insecurities creeping in. 

As their conversation ended, Chris felt lighter, more peaceful than he had in months. He drifted off to sleep thinking of her, Daisy, the girl that had made him feel so good.

creds to rose @bernardsbendystraws for the dividers !!! <3

a/n: gahhhh i made this too long but whatever! hope u enjoy!

taglist: @applecidersturniolo @throatgoat4u @sturnslutz @desreads @courta13 @kier-with-a-k @bluestriips @sturns-mermaid @ishasturnz @sweetshuga @snoopychris comment to be added/removed from this au's taglist !!

till next time!