#it's their college experience. you're still getting paid

[thevegetablewhichnoonedaresname]

throwback tuesday to that time when i took one of the few large lecture hall classes i ever took in college, a class on pre-1500s English literature, and the professor (a balding man with a British accent who banned computers because, according to him, he once caught someone watching Shrek 2 on a laptop during the lecture and he was upset it wasn't Shrek 1) stopped in the middle of talking about Beowulf to a hundred students to ask ME SPECIFICALLY (in the back half of the room but not all the way at the back) if I was using my smartphone under the table, so I had to lift up my hands and show him that no, I was knitting because the class had a bunch of printouts so I didn't need to take notes but the man wouldn't let me play spider solitaire or scroll tumblr and I had to do SOMETHING with my hands, and he was like, "ah, weaving peace I see. it seems we have the peaceweaver in our class" and then just carried on with things

[lalunanymph]

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── as the last woman on earth, a government bounty marks you as humanity’s only hope for repopulation. unexpectedly, stumbling into your college football team becomes your lifeline, but instead of turning you in, they want to impregnate you on their own terms.

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── you're now reading . . . 𝐆𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆 + 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊 with isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, barou shoei, kunigami rensuke, chigiri hyoma, nagi seishiro & mikage reo

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 ─── fem!reader, mentions of sexism in medicine, gangbang, breeding, cunninlingus, unprotected s*x, mild degradation, reader gets spanked once, mentions of food, mentions of babies, mentions of pregnancy, reverse harem, reader gets kidnapped, creampies, double penetration, nipple play, mentions of viral outbreaks, home isolation, mentions of human torture and experimentation, apocalypse AU, dark content ahead (10k+ words i am sick in the head)

⇤flip back to the pervtober masterlist

One thing about life you were coming to find out in your short existence, was that it could change in the blink of an eye.

One day, you’re a popular cheerleader everyone loves, on the Dean’s List and speeding through to a life of accolades and financial stability, then the next, a viral outbreak spirals out of control, infecting and offing only women. 

It started with rapid coughing and sneezing. Many expert scientists cited a woman's inferior immune system compared to men. They barely paid any attention to the growing casualties in one half of the population, just like how they turned a blind eye to PCOS or the persistent chronic pain most women seemed to experience throughout their lives. 

As the voices of one half went unheard, the dire consequences slapped mankind fully in the face. 

Birth rates dropped, many nations lost their manpower and society became increasingly violent and hostile. 

Those women that were left were transferred to medical facilities under the guise of rehabilitating them. But, there were the rumours of abuse and medical experiments that arose from shady forums and chat groups. 

You had read some of them from Jienna’s laptop when she was still alive.

Your best friend and roommate was an advocate for women’s rights, even before the world hadn’t gone to shit, and she was the first one who opened your eyes to the blatant mistreatment women were going through official medical channels. When the virus hit, the both of you huddled in your shared dormitory, trading packets of ramen and stories while waiting for more aid to come. 

She always had such a bright smile and determination. The day the virus took her away from you was one you could never forget. 

Jienna laid on her bed, a grey pallor overtaking her once radiant skin. The skincare she religiously applied was gathering dust on her dresser, and everytime she exhaled, it sounded coarser and coarser.

Eventually, she closed her eyes and never awoke again, and you had to page the medical team to extract her body, all while tears streamed down your cheeks and you were hovering on the edge of a full meltdown.

Your family across the country couldn’t even come and see you; your brothers were barred from taking you back home, as every woman in the district was given strict orders to remain at home and behind locked doors to keep the virus away. 

But, it always managed to slip through the cracks. Whether it was from infected food or contaminated medical equipment. 

The virus killed any female it touched.

News reports began surfacing that hens were dying out, impacting the supply of eggs. Cows were dropping dead in fields, the world’s milk supply running dry for the first time in existence. The pregnant black cat you used to feed behind your dorms was found dead behind a dumpster by a group of computer science boys. 

Slowly, the world descended into chaos, and more and more women were disappearing.

It was exactly day 40 of your lockdown when you decided you would run away.

Packing every non-perishable canned food you could find into a big bag, you waited until dusk fell and when the nurses would hand you your dinner. You knew it would be one of the older security guys who used to direct parking on your campus, and he had a bad hip so he couldn’t chase you down. 

As much as you hated hurting him, the first punch in his face was enough to knock him out cold. You hopped over his body, careening down the hallway and pushing yourself towards the outside of the college campus. 

Luck was on your side when you dashed out the front door to find an idle truck. It was from one of the block rangers, and you didn’t hesitate to jump inside of it, revving the engine and stepping down on the gas pedal. 

Someone yelled out your name, but you were too fired up to care. In your mind, you decided it would be better to die from the virus than staying cooped up for the rest of your life. At least with dying, you would be free. 

You had no plan and no idea what to do next but to race towards the closest abandoned building you could find. Jienna had told you about it during her dying days—how there was a series of abandoned buildings just at the edge of town where defiant women stayed the last of their days there. 

Having seen with your own eyes what the virus did to your roommate, you were sure you were prepared to go out the same way. There would be a few days where your immune system fought back, but without the right food and care, you would waste yourself away.

Better than being trapped forever in a small dorm. You viciously gunned the engine and raced towards that shining beacon of hope. 

The buildings out of town were abandoned like Jienna said, and you prepared to set up your death camp. The concrete slab walls were drab and the floor was too hard and cold to sleep on, but you made do with a blanket you managed to steal from the lobby. 

Days passed and soon, you were starting to wonder if the virus was even real. Your meals consisted of canned beans and whatever scraps you could find in the dumpster nearby. You didn’t dare to light a fire in case it might attract someone’s attention, and your showers were virtually non-existent.

Maybe I shouldn’t have left the dorms. 

Those thoughts of ‘what if’ and ‘should haves’ kept you up at night and haunted your waking moments. 

One day, you thought you heard footsteps echoing down the hallways, but then, you found out it was just a bunch of squatters looking for a place to sleep. They turned their nose up on the squalor and left you alone feeling bemused and a little disappointed that not even the lowest rank of humanity would want to spend a night at a place you consistently slept in. 

But, your newfound freedom was too good to be true.

It had been too quiet and too peaceful. The bubble was waiting to pop and your hopes burst one day when you awoke in cold sweat to hear a man’s voice down the hallways.

“... heard she escaped here…” 

“Are you sure?” 

The fatigue weighing you down shot out of your system and you sat up ramrod straight, rushing to get your goods without making a sound. 

“No news of… gotta be the last one in the vicinity…” 

You hurriedly stuffed your blanket into your backpack, taking care not to breathe too loud in case they might hear. The beam of a flashlight pricked your irises, and having lived for a while in the dark, you weren’t used to such brightness.

Squinting, you stayed close to the walls, slinging your bag onto your shoulders and preparing to depart down a flight of steps straight into the forest fringing these buildings. Your flexibility as a cheerleader back in your old life helped you out to creep on the floors quietly, extending one leg and then another while keeping close to the walls. 

However, you didn’t see where your foot landed, and before you could stop in mid-step, the empty can of beans went clattering to the ground.

For a split second, all you could hear was your breath and the rush of blood in your ears.

The beam of light immediately swung towards your direction, illuminating your left leg and the implicated empty can in question. 

Shit. You had been discovered.

“Wait!” One of the men yelled, but you didn’t stop to listen. Hightailing it out of here, you sprinted to the entrance, about to escape into the night when you felt a bigger body slam into you from the side. 

Screaming out, you barely caught a glimpse of your perpetrator, but he was holding you down with his larger body, pinning you right to the dirty ground.

“Got her!” he yelled back to other men. “It’s a girl! She’s here!” 

You blindly reached your hand out and felt the sharp edge of a rock cut into your palm. Swinging it towards him, you bashed the side of his head, and in the glimpses of light from the shining moon up ahead, you caught sight of his vivid, dark hair. 

The man yelped and stumbled back, staunching the heavy flow of blood oozing from his right cheek.

“Fuck!” he bellowed, and you used his momentum of shock to push him off of you. 

But, he had enough dexterity to clamp a hand around your knee, bringing you back down to the ground. 

“No!” you started to scream and sob. “Please! Let me go!” 

Someone else came to his rescue, holding you down. You felt ropes around your wrists, drawing them behind your back. Your sobs were muffled by a bag thrown over your head, and for good measure, they tied your ankles, too. It took two of them to carry you into a car, and you were laid on someone’s lap, his arms roping around you and pressing you to his chest. 

As the men piled back into the car, you started to sob when you heard the engine ignite. 

“Ssh, it’s okay,” the man who held you crooned. “It’s gonna be fine, Y/N.” 

Through your tears, you recognized that they knew your name. 

A hand touched your knee, rubbing it soothingly. “We’re not here to hurt you.”

That voice. You had heard it before. It brought to mind dark blue eyes and a mop of dark hair. A pair of toned legs tearing through a football field and a charming, lopsided smile.

“I-Isagi?” 

He hummed. “It’s me, Y/N. Barou’s holding you, by the way.” 

In answer, the self-proclaimed king of the field back from when your college days consisted of study horrors and not a world crisis, flooded your mind with stark familiarity when he exhaled out your name. 

“Hey, Y/N.” 

“It’s the boys from the football team,” Isagi informed you, like you were on a road trip with them instead of forcefully being kidnapped against your own will. 

“H-how did you find me?” The bag they stuffed over your head smelled musty, and you struggled to talk through it. “C-can you get this fucking thing off my head?” 

Someone pried the sack off, and you inhaled in deep gusts of air, your wide eyes taking in the darkened interior of this truck and the boys who were holding you hostage. 

Isagi had lost a bit of weight since you last saw him. The last you heard of the Blue Lock team’s co-captain was that he had lost his mother to the virus and the school had started a fund for him to cover her funeral expenses. Turning your eyes towards the man who was holding you, Barou’s jaw was tight, and his eyes were heavy with dark circles.

The man driving was Kunigami, whose hands were white-knuckled fists on the steering wheel. Next to him in the passenger, bleeding out from his cheek, was Itoshi Rin. You noticed how he side-eyed you from the front, and returned his evasive look with a frosty glare. 

Lastly, at the back of this 8-seater was Chigiri, Nagi and Reo—the former two being the most unlikely combination of acquaintances you had ever seen join this ragtag group of football bros. Nagi and Reo were famous for being fused at the hip since they both started their business degree courses together. They rarely fraternised with anyone else outside of their coursemates, much less kidnap some random woman. 

At the reminder of your predicament, you squirmed, accidentally rubbing your ass all over Barou’s crotch. He didn’t react beyond a low hiss of, “Quit it,” those thick and sturdy arms tightening around your trembling body. You tried to ignore how you could feel something hard poking your lower back. 

“Why did you kidnap me?” you demanded off the bat. “How did you find me? What are you going to do with me?” 

Those rapid questions were met with silence. You flitted your gaze to each of them, and through the passing snatches of orange streetlights, you saw every one of their expressions drenched in guilt. 

“We… don’t know.” 

Isagi was the one who spoke first, preparing himself to earn your rage.

“You don’t know?” you mumbled, growing more incensed every minute with how they had wrenched you from your peaceful life in the ruins. “You don’t know where you’re taking me. What you’re planning to do with me. You don’t know the reason why you went through all that trouble to track me down. You don’t—”

“It’s because you have a bounty on your head.”

Rin’s voice cut through your growing tirade, leaving you cold with disbelief.

“I… what?” 

On your right, Isagi nodded, rubbing the back of his neck like he would rather be somewhere else than in this vehicle having such a difficult conversation. 

“After you escaped, the officials posted your bounty and your suspected whereabouts. Um, it’s uh… well, Y/N… you’re the last woman alive from our college.” 

You exhaled, feeling your chest constrict and tears prick your eyes. 

All your lecturers… your friends… your cheerleading gang… 

“Are they all gone?” The boys didn’t comment on your thick voice or the unshed tears. 

Kunigami was the first one to express his remorse. “I’m sorry, Y/N. That’s the truth.” 

Rin decided to rip the bandaid off quicker, leaving you reeling in confusion and despair. “The authorities put up notices for you because your status was unknown. They said that anyone who brought you back—dead or alive—would receive two million yen.”

The reality of your situation settled in like sentiment falling to the bottom of a glass jar. 

You felt cold all over, your heartbeat right in your throat.

“So, you’re either going to k-kill me or turn me in, huh?” 

Your heavy question was met with silence. 

Surprisingly, it was Nagi at the back who piped up in his lazy, drawling tone. “Actually… we have a better plan.” 

Isagi was the first to react. He shot Nagi a murderous look, shaking his head. Kunigami glanced at the white-haired man through the rearview mirror with narrowed eyes, and Rin’s scowl deepened. Chigiri, who had been quiet throughout this entire exchange, sighed out, “Idiot” under his breath.

The only one who looked supportive of what Nagi had to say was—no surprise there—Reo himself.

“It’s a good plan! She’s still healthy,” he argued on behalf of his best friend. Nagi nodded, humming. 

“The virus should’ve taken her out weeks ago, but she managed to survive all on her own in such dirty conditions… I really think we should give it a shot.”

The air in the car changed; thickening and becoming ripe with tension. Barou’s arms suddenly felt too hot around your body, and you broke out into a sweat.

“It could work,” Isagi started out slowly, rubbing his chin. He had a look on his face you knew all too well—that calculative, goal-hungry stare that would eventually destroy his enemies. 

Rin tilted his head towards the backseat, his turquoise eyes drawing circles on the car’s water-stained ceiling. “Do you think that would be legal for us to do?” 

“We have to keep her hidden.” Chigiri spoke up, demanding everyone's attention. “The authorities can’t know that we have a woman with us or we’d be punished. We have to be very careful with Y/N.”

You were still drawing blanks on their ideas, growing more frustrated every single second you were kept in the dark from their decisions on your fate. “What do you fucking assholes mean? Legal? Keeping me away from the authorities? What do you want with me?” 

Your voice broke on the last question, and without warning, you started to sob. The weeks of roughing it out on your own, trying to escape from society and hide in plain sight were taking its toll on you. You wept bitterly, hiding your face behind your hair and sobbing into your shoulder.

“Shit,” someone muttered in the front. 

“Give her some water.” 

It was Isagi who gently coaxed your face from your shoulder, holding a bottle of clean water. You contemplated spitting a mouthful at him, but ultimately, your thirst won out and you drank deeply. 

He wiped your tears off with the sleeve of his threadbare sweater and you hiccuped into a silence, already accepting your death. 

“We don’t want to hurt you,” Reo murmured from the back. You lifted your swollen, red eyes to find his purple ones full of sincerity. “We actually want to keep you safe. There’s been rumours about human experiments and none of us want you to go through that. We want to keep you safe.”

You should’ve known the group’s appointed spokesperson would be a man used to spouting sweet words to get his way—whether with professors or girls—but a part of you wanted to believe Reo. You were so, so tired of fending for yourself, you wanted someone to help you with the burden of being a woman in these unacceptable times. 

“Yes, Y/N.” Rin’s sudden reassurance struck you dumb with disbelief. “We have our old frat house—nobody comes by there anymore. We’ll keep you safe there and you can rest.” 

It all sounded too good to be true. Here was a band of college footballers being completely sweet with you—wanting to protect, nurture and keep you hidden. But, you were waiting for the other shoe to drop; the catch in this arrangement. 

“There’s more,” you whispered, scenting out their bullshit. “You’re not telling me the real reason.” 

Men were never good liars—that much you could tell. So, when every single footballer glanced at the other, your senses were in red alert, demanding to uncover what was the terrible footnote to this otherwise flawless proposal.

“Well?” you muttered coldly, strengthening your resolve. “What do you want from me? What’s the catch?” 

Reo was quick to turn your question around. “What? There’s no catch—”

“There is.” It was Isagi who spoke, sounding resigned and tired in the dimming darkness. “There is a catch. We shouldn’t lie to her, guys. We all agreed to tell her the truth if we found her and she was willing to listen.” 

You held your breath, waiting for Isagi to drop the bomb. He seemed like he needed a moment to stabilise himself. He drew in a deep breath and unlocked his shoulders, looking you square in the eye. You half-wished he had kept you in the dark; never told you the truth. Because what he said next completely swept you off your feet, landing you onto the ground face-first and gasping in disbelief.

“It’s not about rewards or money—it’s about duty. We need your help to repopulate this city, Y/N… we want you to carry one of our babies.” 

You felt a pair of broad-set shoulders shake under your smaller frame, the man underneath you stretching out his kinks and stiff muscles after a night of good sleep. 

“Hm,” he groaned, brushing a hand down your bare spine. “Good morning, angel.” 

Reo’s husky voice drew you back into consciousness, and you whined, burying your face into his neck to hide yourself from the morning’s glare. He chuckled at your antics, nosing your hair and pressing soft kisses onto your temple. “C’mon, sweetheart. It’s Rin’s turn with you today.” 

Without missing a beat or opening your eyes, you mumbled: “Maybe you should all fuck me at one go so you guys can see who’s strong enough to knock me up.” 

You meant those words as a joke, but when Reo’s shoulders stiffened, you suddenly realised the depth of danger you were flirting with. 

“Don’t say such things you’ll regret, sweetheart,” he meant to tease you, gently easing you off his chest. “Or, the boys won’t stop until you give each one of us a baby.” 

You tried to laugh, to shake off the sudden unease. Today was Wednesday, and Wednesdays meant pancake days in this unconventional household. You got up and slipped on Reo’s shirt, fluffing out your shorter hair. The guys had insisted you cut your locks so that it would be easier to hide them under a baseball cap and pass you off as a man if anyone came looking. 

Sometimes, you did miss your femininity, but in a world where it was literally dying out, you couldn’t take any chances. 

Flashing Reo a smile, you hummed. “Don’t laze around too much like Nagi—I’m making breakfast.” 

In the living room, Bachira was the only one up and awake, his bright golden eyes following your every move as you wished him good morning and prepared your ingredients. Without a sound, he slipped behind you, calloused hands warm on your bare belly. 

“Morning, beautiful,” he whispered into your ear, making goosebumps rise on your arms. 

“Morning, Meguru,” you mumbled, trying to ignore how his hands were creeping up to your bare breasts. Living with seven men meant that you were subjected to their advances night and day. It got even worse when you had told them you missed your period last week, but your cycle turned out to be just a few days late. 

That didn’t stop them from feeling you up, grasping your hips or pressing soft kisses to your neck when you least expected it. Like now, with Bachira’s hot breath bathing the sensitive strip of your jaw. 

Meguru hadn’t been part of your kidnapping heist a few weeks ago, but he had shown up when Isagi called—ready to be of service and contribute his portion in repopulating your tiny, dying town. 

Clicking your tongue at the price tag on the egg carton, you flipped the cardboard cover closed, affronted by the steep spike in those numbers. 

“It’s getting bad out there, right?” 

Bachira paused his efforts in running his nose down your neck, taken off guard by your sudden question. “Um. Yeah. Why’d you ask, princess?” 

Because I haven’t seen the outside world in weeks. You swallowed your bitterness, focused on whipping the yolks into a golden perfection. The boys were doing their best to make you feel cosy and safe within these walls; you couldn’t be too ungrateful. They didn’t let you out for fear of someone catching sight of you—that’s why the windows and doors were all covered and barricaded.

They restricted your contact with only seven of them because they didn’t want an anonymous tip-off to result in you being taken away. 

Every Blue Lock player was careful to protect their golden ace. 

“Nothing,” you hummed in the breeziest voice you could muster. “Just curious, s’all.” 

“Hmm.” Bachira’s hands moved up to your naked tits moving freely under Reo’s bigger t-shirt. “You smell like him,” he accused you softly with a nip to your ear. “That stupid rich boy.” 

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous,” you tried not to smirk, but failed. 

“Nah.” Bachira’s fingers trailed to your stiffening nipples, still sore from Reo’s ministrations (he loved biting down on them while you rode him) and eased the soft flesh in between his thumb and forefinger. “I was waiting for my turn—can’t believe I have to share you with those bastards.” You tried not to gasp and push your body back to meet his pelvis halfway, failing miserably to measure a cup full of milk. Some of the liquid sloshed onto your wrist and you heard Meguru snort. 

“I love how sensitive you are, baby.” 

Biting on your lower lip to stifle a whine, you pushed your ass back to brush the front of his pants, finding him already hard and waiting. 

Bachira was one of the more eager boys, and you had to pace yourself and him less he fucked you on this counter and ruined Rin’s day with you. 

“Meguru—”

“I know, I know,” he groaned, sounding both lustful and disappointed. “You’re emo Itoshi’s tonight. Fucking stupid stick game.” Cursing himself for literally getting the shorter end of the stick, you felt his pout imprint on your skin. “But, can’t we have a little bit of fun, baby? Can I eat your pussy out at least?” 

You literally throbbed at his words, and almost gave in to the rushing desire sweeping you off your feet. Almost—until you heard Isagi’s voice knocking the both of you out of this lust-filled fog.

“Hey. What’re you both doing?” 

While you smelled a threat, Bachira smelled an opportunity. His grin was shark-like, cutting through the tension when he didn’t stop playing with your nipples or back down when you hissed out his name. 

“What’s it look like? I’m trying to fuck her.” 

You tensed, waiting for Isagi to be pissed off. He was the one who reinforced this one-night sharing rule, and to see his best friend blatantly disregarding it would set off his rigid ego. 

But, to your surprise, Isagi tilted his head, taking note of your flushed cheeks and glassy eyes. “I think she… she likes it.” 

Bachira glanced down to find your mouth parted slightly, brows furrowed with a deceptive look of pain when both men knew what it was. Desire. 

Isagi, who could smell a goal or a wrench in the plans from a mile away, started to chuckle. 

“Lift up her shirt. Continue playing with her nipples, Meguru.” 

“Yes, captain,” Bachira sang, and lifted the hem of Reo’s sleep shirt up to expose your puffy, swollen nipples. 

“Shit,” Isagi breathed, and you didn’t miss how he had to adjust himself through his shorts, those dark blue eyes eclipsed with a dark, unnamed emotion you were terrified to uncover. “They look so perfect and pointy.” 

Bachira rolled your sensitive buds between his two fingers, ignoring your soft yelp and flinch when he began to tug on them with a bit more force. “Huh—it really is. Reo must’ve prepped her nicely for us.” 

“For what?” 

The voice of another lover joined the fray. You peeled your watery eyes up to find Reo’s curious expression sweeping between his two friends and your own flushed face. He didn’t seem angry that you were being fondled by Bachira in broad daylight—in fact, Reo looked like he didn’t feel anything. 

He almost looked bored, sweeping those purplish hues to Isagi. “So, are we finally doing it?” 

“Hmm.” 

Doing what? You wanted to ask, but your head was tilted back, mouth falling open only for it to be filled by Bachira’s tongue coaxing yours to come and play with his. His kiss—if it could even be called that—was sloppy and unhurried, its full intention to leave you feeling shame and vulnerability in front of two of your other lovers. 

Showing them how you easily folded and lost yourself to the sensations. 

“Mm—can see her moving her hips,” Isagi’s lowered, husky voice shot a potent mix of desire and shame through your veins. “Check how wet she is Meguru.” 

Abiding his best friend, Bachira dipped two fingers past the waistband of your sleep shorts. You mewled and tossed your head back when he swiped through your folds, teasingly circling your clit. 

As soon as he gave you that wonderful friction, he retrieved it, leaving you high and dry. 

“Meguru,” you whimpered. Bachira ignored you, holding his fingers up to the other two men; his digits glistening with your juices. 

“I don’t think she can wait anymore,” Reo murmured, and this time, you caught a flash of darkness in his otherwise kind eyes. “Isagi—”

“I’ll go first.” 

Meguru nudged you firmly to face the approaching, dark-haired man. You couldn’t keep your eyes off Isagi’s intense, blue eyes that were pinning you right to the spot like you were about to be burned on a stake. The fire came next when he reached out to caress your cheek, trailing his hand down your neck and grabbing your throat. 

“Tease her clit again,” he ordered, and Bachira playfully said, 

“Yes, captain.” 

Fuck. You were growing lightheaded from the combination of Isagi choking you and Bachira running slow circles on your throbbing clit. It was even filthier when you remembered Reo was watching, most likely getting off to your desperate pinched expressions. 

“Meguru… Yoichi…”

Calling them by their first name seemed to spur on those two men. Meguru eased one finger past your tight ring of muscle, melting through your spongy walls and hooking the tip of this thick index right against your g-spot. He nudged it forward in a fluid motion, like how he would effortlessly send forward a ball across the field, forcing a yelp past your kiss-swollen lips. 

Your vision was purely dominated by Isagi’s increasingly unhinged expression; the sweat bulleting down his forehead, his mouth parted in a silent snarl, those dark, beautiful eyes coaxing you to jump down a well just to feel his touch… 

“Y-Yoichi.” 

As if he understood your deeper need, Isagi nodded feverishly at Bachira. “Remove her shorts… hold her open while I eat her out.” 

Dutifully, Meguru followed his friend's instructions. You watched with wide, unblinking eyes as Yoichi got to his knees, his mouth so close to where you needed him the most.

Bachira slung your shorts down your ankles, revealing the sweet shape of your mound and the even sweeter treasure hidden in between your folds. Like a man hellbent on a mission, Yoichi gently pried your clit from under her hood, revealing the throbbing bud waiting to be licked, sucked or loved on. 

You barely had time to catch your breath before his mouth was on you. 

Every man in this house ate you out differently. Reo was more careful and controlled. Nagi was languid and tended to overstimulate you. Barou loved to have your legs on his shoulders as he dove in between your thighs. 

But, Isagi was different; he ate you out with the determination of a man who had to prove he was the best in every way. 

The feeling of his tongue swiping through your folds, those perfect pink lips sealing around your clit and how he sounded like he was making out with your pussy made you clench down on thin air. 

“Yoichi…” you breathed. 

Bachira went to work on stimulating you, too, tugging your shirt above your head and pinching your nipples again. 

Both boys were so intent on driving you to the edge, that they didn’t realise the group of spectators they were attracting. 

From the corner of your watery eyes, you noticed Rin standing, arms crossed over his broad shoulders and frosty glare—tainted with jealousy—directed towards the man in between your thighs. Kunigami had just gotten out of the shower, so his hair was still damp while Barou had returned from a workout, his muscles swollen and shiny with sweat. Chigiri and Nagi were the only ones probably still asleep, though you had little doubt your stream of moans would wake them up out of curiosity. 

Meguru flicked the tip of his nails on your nipples, the sharp sting sending bites of pleasure right to your core. 

“Megu—” you were interrupted again by another sloppy kiss. 

“Tch. You’re all such fucking horndogs.” Rin’s grumble was white noise behind the blood rushing in your ears. 

“... you’re not complaining…” 

“Shut up…” 

A sharp nip to your flesh inner thigh wrenched you back to the present, and you gasped, making eye contact with Isagi and his raised brow. 

“You’re getting bored, Princess?” 

Without missing a beat, you shook your head. “N-no, ‘Ichi. Mm’sorry.” 

He clicked his tongue, obviously not buying your lie. “Here you are getting your pussy eaten out by me and you’re focusing on the other boys. Just admit that you’re a fucking cockwhore, Y/N.” 

You gaped at his words, and your rage was lost when Bachira dragged you back to the counter, arranging you face down and ass up. 

“M-Meguru—!” 

“Come on, who wants to fuck her first,” he boldly exclaimed, shaking you to the core. “She’s ready for a baby.” 

You burned from the inside out at how cheaply he was treating you; that sensation amplified by the sharpest slap of humiliation across your cheeks, Bachira’s handprint glowing warmly on your skin. He spanked you again, matching his mark on your right cheek to your left one, letting you cry out and clench down on thin air.  

“Me.” A deep, resonate voice which you loved having at your ear while he fucked you on every Monday night. After all—a King always went first.

As one of the bigger guys, Barou’s physique gave him the advantage over the others to call dibs on you first, his undeniably good genetics and strong bone structure a contender for healthy babies. 

You felt Bachira’s warmth melt from your side to be replaced by the feel of Shoei’s toned thighs pressed against your rear. 

He soothed the spanks left on your skin with one large, coarse palm, and hummed deeply. 

“You ready, pretty?” 

Nodding, you turned your head to the side, unable to believe that you were in such a vulnerable position to be fucked by the entire football team. 

You weren’t going to lie—you had imagined yourself in this position before. But, it was always in your wildest fantasies; to be defiled by the football team in your tiny uniform behind the bleachers. If you were being honest, every girl on campus had the same daydream, but you were closer to the unattainable. The entire idea was such a cliche, and yet, here you were, in a room full of hungry, testosterone-fuelled men who eagerly waited to have their turn with you—the pretty cheerleader from their bygone days before the world tried to kill humanity off. 

Barou wasted no time in sinking his thick cock into you, groaning as your body took him inch by inch. He rubbed your hips, leaning forward to gently thumb your nipple. “There you go, baby. Taking me so well.” 

His words were a stark contrast from his actions. Shoei gave a low, guttural groan when he bottomed out, a dirty thrill shooting down your spine at the feel of his entire cock moulding with your walls as seven other men gaze lustfully at you. 

Through the shine of an old kettle on the counter top, you noticed Isagi palming himself through his shorts. Bachira was blatantly jacking himself off, one hand inside his sleep shorts. Kunigami was sitting on the sofa, staring at you slack-jawed and completely hard under his towel. Reo was the more subtle one, furtively glancing around and looking slightly uncomfortable, but still unable to tear his eyes from you. 

Chigiri and Nagi had woken up, and Rin was standing a little ways by the door, distancing himself from the activities taking place.

For a split second, you felt bad for him—Rin was supposed to have you today, but he had to wait for his turn as the other guys fucked you; figuratively and literally blue-balled by his own teammates. It would’ve made you mad on his behalf if you weren’t—

“Ow!” 

A sharp tug on your roots snapped your head back, and your cry bounced off the walls. Barou’s lips were on your neck, his hot breath fanning across your neck. 

“Did I tell you you could be distracted? Pay attention to when your King fucks you.”

From the back, you heard Bachira snicker, but every thought flew out of your head when Barou set a pace which had your toes curling in your house slippers. He clamped one hand around the delicate roots of your hair, while the other guided your hips to meet his halfway.

The sound of balls hitting flesh filled the air, along with your animalistic groans and Barou’s deep ones. You heard a few more muffled groans, and someone cursing, but your thoughts were doused in wet cotton, growing heavier and fuzzier. 

You could barely keep your eyes open, only cognizant of Barou’s cock shaping your walls and the impending ball of heat waiting to unravel right under your navel. Meeting his thrusts cleanly, soft mewls fell from your plush lips like dew, mingling with a bit of drool puddling onto the counter right under your mouth. 

Barou was fucking you stupid and the other men knew it. He couldn’t stop the feral grin splitting his face in half when your hips bucked, a little slutty tick which told every man you were about to cum. 

Without warning, you felt wet warmth fill you to the brim—your first load of the day taken like a champ.

Shoei hadn’t let you cum, and you reeled back from the disappointment with barely any grace; your soft sob was replaced by a moan when another man lined up his cock to your stuffed entrance. 

You smelled his fresh pine cologne before you saw him, and sensed Rin’s impatience the second he gripped your jaw and wrenched your face back for a deep, frenzied kiss. 

“Fucking whore,” he whispered into the heat of your mouth. “Letting the other boys feel you up when it’s my turn with you today. Where’s your shame?” 

Your answer melted as one with a dulcet moan when Rin slid two fingers in between your swollen folds, testing the waters of your arousal. He barely cared when his digits were coated with a combination of Barou’s cum and your juices; he just stuck those soiled, pale and nimble fingers which could’ve rivalled a skilled pianist down your throat. You gagged on them, eyes going blurry and all teary from the flavouring of sin heavy on your tongue. 

“Rin,” you hiccuped, and he hummed. 

“Take me deeper, baby.” 

His command brought a throbbing wave of desperation arresting you from head to toe. You tried to bring his fingers further down your gullet, but gagged when he was almost knuckle-deep. 

“Mhpmh!” Your syrupy moan made every man groan, the sheer desperation in how you attempted to fully swallow Rin’s fingers a commendable feat considering he had absurdly thick fingers to match his height. 

“Good girl,” Rin praised you in a husky voice when he felt your throat bob around his digits. “You’re really such the perfect fuckdoll, huh? Always so ready for us.” 

“Mhmm…” your eyes rolled back into your head, your entire body tensing when you felt his cock slowly breach past your tight ring of muscle. 

“Fucking take this dick, baby, I know you can,” the youngest striker urged, his words beyond filthy compared to the other men. Rin was one of the only few people in this house who could talk you through the immense pleasure, and you loved him all the more for it. 

His obscene mouth would never fail to leave you reeling from the difference in his demeanour; sour and quiet when he wasn’t fucking you, to brash and downright filthy when he was egging you towards an orgasm. 

You loved Rin and his duality; lived to watch it come to life.

You wanted to swallow him down and eat him up whole to satiate the deep well of lust inside of you no matter the price. 

“Rin…” you gurgled past his fingers. “Mhmmmore.” 

“More?” he interpreted your gurgles with the ghost of a chuckle. You quite liked it when Rin laughed even if it was a soft exhale; it made you feel lighter to hear his happiness. He hummed and plunged his fingers back down your throat, playing with the soft palate of your tongue, while his cock inched deeper and deeper into your sacred heat.

The second he bottomed out, his forehead thumped onto your shoulder, a long drawn out groan of relief radiating warmth right into your throbbing heart. Rin’s reactions were adorable as they were pussy stirring, his duality further exacerbated by those spit-slicked fingers retracting from your mouth and moving down to your puffy clit.

He gently rubbed circles into them, catching you whenever you bucked into his embrace. His lips were on your neck, his hot breath expelling heated groans onto the sensitive skin. Every single shaky circle on your sensitive nub was pulling you closer and closer into a white hole of pleasure.

Your moans were reaching fever pitch, and the entire house was doused with the arousal of seven men who couldn’t wait to fuck you.

The boys whispered something over your stream of mewls and your feet were off the ground, your limp body in Rin’s arms. Without a second to spare, he brought you to the main bedroom where the largest bed could fit at least three men. 

There, he laid you down, your head dangling off the edge so your mouth was hanging wide open for the next man to defile. 

Rin eased himself in between your spread thighs, placing a kiss onto your sternum almost reverently and leaving more pressees on your jaw and cheeks. You felt someone else rustle up towards the other side of the bed, and your eyes met Kunigami’s darkened ones. His towel was shed off, a heap on the floor, and his long, girthy cock throbbed in anticipation over your face. 

“Open up for me, pretty girl,” Rensuke murmured, grazing your cheek and then hooking a thumb on your bottom lip to spread you wider. You whined, overstimulated on both ends when you felt both men sink into you at the same time. Rin bottomed out the second Rensuke hit the back of your throat, making you jerk and gag. 

The both of them were big—far too big for your smaller body. It was a struggle to take them both and you felt your body reacting to the impossible feat.

“Ssh, ssh,” Rin whispered into your hair. “Relax, baby. You can take us, I know you can.”

With watery eyes, all you could do was mewl, hips bucking pathetically. Rin’s long girth was directly hitting your g-spot with every thrust, and Rensuke was splitting your throat in half. You felt like you could drown in their musk and the thick scent of sex in the air. 

Something bitter hit the back of your throat, and you gagged, about to spit Rensuke out when he clamped one hand on your throat, telling you to keep him there if you wanted to know what was good for you. 

“Hold me, sweetheart. Hold it,” the large football player murmured. You were sure your entire system was going haywire—your pussy and mind in war to come out at the top of your frazzled emotions. 

One of your hands was buried in Rin’s hair, and another was perched on Kunigami’s thigh, trying to ease him down your battered throat. 

Without warning, the other man withdrew his thick length from your mouth, splatters of drool dripping down your chin and neck; defiling you even more. 

“Fucking hurry it up, Rin,” Kunigami growled, throwing the other striker a murderous look which juxtaposed his usually kind expression jarringly. “I need to cum in her.” 

Rin grunted, returning the other striker’s glare with a hostile one of his own. “Shut the fuck up—let me have this with her.” Kunigami stroked himself, trying to keep himself hard as Rin started to jackhammer into your willing cunt.

Your screams of pleasure echoed around the room, contrasting with the other men’s deep growls and groans. It sounded like a smorgasbord of erotic sounds, complemented by the slap of Rin’s balls on your ass. 

The youngest man was close on the verge of his orgasm, his face pinched and drawn. You thought he would’ve taken this chance to cum and ignore your pleasure, like Barou did, but you were sorely wrong when it came to Rin. He pressed a thumb to your swollen clit, rubbing it soft and sweet, increasing the pressure when you started to buck and whine into his embrace. 

You smelled the sting of his sweat, felt it drip into your open mouth, tainting it with the taste of Kunigami’s precum and his own excitement. 

“I’m close,” you sobbed out, arms like vines around his shoulders, nails stabbing into his back. “G’na cum, Rin-Rin—fuck, don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

He shook his head, a feral look of pure determined arousal lighting those beautiful features. “Cum for me, baby. Make a mess—show the other guys how much you love my cock.” 

Your back arched, and your mouth fell open in a silent scream. Your thighs tensed around his waist, almost clamping the air out of his lungs from how hard you were clenching around him. The minute ticks, the red lines you left down his back, and your eyes rolling back into your skull arrived at a blinding crescendo.

“Oh! Ugh, Rin—!” 

Your first orgasm hit you like a brick wall, steamrolling every thought from your blank mind. Rin’s face fell into the crook of your neck, and his stuttering hips brought forth a fountain of warmth flowing freely into your womb. 

You were coasting, high on hormones and pleasure, when he disappeared from your embrace, only to be replaced by another body. Kunigami’s lips on your skin were like warm fluttering butterfly wings, slowly bringing you back to the ground.

“I’m here next, okay, baby?” His tender tone didn’t prepare you for how his cock stretched you out. 

“Too big,” you muttered, losing every shred of your composure and shame to hiccup those dirty words. “You’re t-too big.”

“Yeah?” He kissed your tears away. “Aren’t you glad I can stretch you out? Give your sweet body some practice when you have to push out our babies?” 

His words ignited a flame right in your lower belly—making you cry out when Rensuke started to slip inside your already overflowing hole. Gushes of white streaked your thighs, the other men’s releases staining the bed underneath you. 

As you got used to his slightly wider girth, you didn’t expect Kunigami to roll you on your hands and knees. His cock slid back into your waiting heat, the angle making him feel bigger, and stretching you out even more. 

But, it also placed you face to face with the other guys who were eyeing you hungrily—none more so than Reo. 

One thick hand wound the hair around the nape of your neck to snap your head up, keeping you firmly in place to watch the lust dancing in their eyes.

“You really should see how fucking sexy you look, baby,” Chigiri hummed, those bright eyes latched onto the spot where you and Kunigami were connected. “We could eat you whole—you fucking little slut.”

“So pretty,” Reo cooed, and Nagi nodded in agreement. 

The lilac-haired man got bold enough to stride up to you, perching himself on the edge of the bed where your swinging tits were mesmerising him. 

“Raise her up a little bit, Ren.” 

Kunigami obeyed Reo’s orders, settling on his haunches and bringing you up with one arm securely snug around your neck. Your tinier hands fluttered to the thick trunk of his forearm as if trying to pry him off, the breath in your lungs knocked out by Rensuke’s headlock. 

But, whatever bit of oxygen you managed to inhale from Kunigami’s loosening hold was taken away as Reo leaned forward to kiss and suck your tits. He massaged the neglected one with one hand, his lips busy toying with your right nipple. You watched with bated breath as his tongue caressed the hardening flesh, the firm suction of his lips on the vulnerable flesh sending pangs of pleasure straight to your core.

You cried out, throwing your head back to bump Rensuke’s chin. He grunted, and shifted his arm a bit so he could grasp your neck instead, holding you steady as his cock wrecked you and Reo’s mouth on your tits continued driving you insane.

“She’s drooling,” Nagi drawled, catching their attention. 

Every eye zeroed in on your blissed-out face, your mouth parting and a little bit of spit dripping past your chin. Kunigami chuckled, breathless and almost feral when he leaned forward to sloppily make out with you. 

The sound of wet lips smacking on each other and a big cock stirring you closer to another orgasm made every man in the room throb—even those who had already come. Every footballer was thinking of the numerous ways he could bend you over and fuck you hard until you squirted all over them; each of their mind’s eye tainted with your sweet moans and even sweeter release.

You gave a short scream, your orgasm catching everyone off guard when you almost folded forward if it wasn’t for Reo catching you. Your body was shuddering like someone had tasered you—a pure scream of pleasure rebounding across the thin walls.

Reo held you as you sobbed, your release triggering Kunigami’s own orgasm. More warmth filled you up and you had lost track of how many men had already came in you; your brain a complete mush with no solid thoughts in it.

Like clockwork, another cock filled you—this time it was Reo’s again—and your mouth was stuffed with someone else's length. You were dragged into a cowgirl position by Reo who let Nagi mount you from the back, both of their lengths taking turns pistoning into your stretched out heat.

“Disgusting,” someone muttered in disdain over the sounds of two men concurrently fucking one woman. Neither of you cared, and you were pulled into a sloppy makeout session with Nagi as Reo continued sucking and licking your already reddened nipples.

Every part of your orifice was swollen, but you still took Chigiri without complaint when it was his turn. You were already like jelly at this point, your entire body sagging on the bed and going numb from the neverending pleasure.

Thankfully, he was quicker, cumming into you within minutes, and kissing you on the forehead afterwards. Your hole was stuffed to the brim with white hot cum, and you thought you couldn’t take anymore until you felt Bachira sliding behind you, hitching your thighs up.

“Hey, Princess,” the golden-eyed menace cooed. “Did you think we would forget about you?” 

You felt the bed dip, and Isagi’s face swam in your vision. He came closer to give you a kiss, and his lips felt like a soothing balm on a hot day. 

“Yoichi,” you whispered, eyes heavy and body already close to shutting down from exhaustion. “M’so tired.”

“I know, pretty girl, I know,” the dark-haired man whispered. “But, Meguru and I haven’t had our turn with you yet. It would be unfair if we didn't, right?” He gently stroked your cheek, voice saturated with fake sympathy. “You wouldn’t want us to not fuck you after you’ve already taken everyone’s cock, right? You’re not that cruel to deny us, are you, baby?”

“Fucking twisted weirdo,” you heard another person quip. But, you were too far gone to stop the collision of his lips on yours, that skilled mouth drinking away all of your complaints.

As he distracted you, Bachira slipped his thick and veiny cock right into your waiting cunt, his groan low and erotic against your shoulder. 

“How’re you still so wet and tight after so many rounds?” He nipped your shoulder in frustration, setting a pace that rutted your body back and forth on the soft sheets. “You’re a fucking nympho, baby—so needy for our cocks.”

“Shut up,” you groaned in between Yoichi’s hot mouth pressing onto yours. You tried to squirm away to get back some of your lost breath, but Isagi refused to let you part from his lips. He chased after you, mouth sealing over yours again and again as you tried to twist your head this way and that. 

Strings of spittle clung to both of your chins, and that sick part inside of you which wanted more pushed the voice of common sense in your head out of the way—making you fall head over heels for Yoichi’s mouth on yours. You kissed him back with as much hunger and zeal as your tired body could muster, pushing your boundaries right to the very edge. 

Isagi’s ego fed heartily on your submission, greedily taking everything you gave him.

By the end of this sloppy makeout session, your lips were tingling, and Bachira had already come inside of you—getting off to the sight of his best friend and the girl they were sharing stuck in an intimate lip lockdown.

The last man to take you was drawing it out. He took your face in his hands, nudging you free from Bachira’s grasp and rolling you into his arms.

“Out,” Isagi commanded, in a tone that broke no argument. “Leave me and Y/N alone.”

The rest of the guys began to grumble, but one sharp glare from the terrifying striker was enough to quiet everyone down. Indisputably, Yoichi ran the show, and his ego was bigger than any of theirs combined—the lesser knew when to give way to someone who could devour them without regrets.

Everyone turned to leave, and the last one was Rin who hovered by the doorway, unwilling to abandon you to Yoichi’s devices. The other dark-haired man shot his nemesis a frigid stare that could’ve frozen over Hell’s fires.

“Out, Itoshi.” 

The younger man countered his superior’s glare with a mutinous one of his own. 

“Who’s to say you won’t hurt her?” Rin’s nostrils flared, flickering his gaze to your closed eyes and limp body. “We can’t trust you with her.”

Isagi snorted. “If you want to watch, be my guest. I’ll fuck her so good she’ll forget about you assholes.”

The competition was on, and you were the final prize for these men to win. But, it wasn’t just your body they wanted—each of them fought to secure your womb so it would grow their fruits and give them the family they dreamed of. 

You were their greatest treasure, and they would go to the ends of the earth to make sure you were safe—even watching the other men to make sure none of them would hurt you. 

Isagi was a packaged dynamite waiting to blow; he was too unpredictable and Rin would hate himself if he pushed you too far or injured you in any shape or form. He planted himself against the wall, arms folded across his chest while those searing teal eyes watched you gasp and preen for Isagi’s attention. 

The dark-haired man was playing with your clit, using the dirtiest tactic to rile you up so you would explode in pleasure for him. His mouth was toying with your swollen nipples, and Rin winced when he bit on the tender nub, earning your shriek. It didn’t take a genius to see you were hanging on the tether of your sanity, and with your body already keyed up to the hundreds, your next orgasm was sure to leave you delirious.

Your small hands wound up in his hair, holding him close despite the excruciating pleasure. If Yoichi was the current wrecking you apart, he was also the life buoy you clung on to as your body coasted on the unending pleasure.

“I don’t even need to make you wet, baby,” he breathed right into the shell of your ear, gripping your hips hard. “You’re already so stretched out for me.”

Your breathing caught, a hitched moan echoing around the room when he sank deep into your heat with little to no prep. Isagi kissed you on your lax mouth, and tasted your tears right on his tongue.

“You okay, baby?” He forced your face to his, and your eyes fluttered open. All you could give was a tired nod, and he grinned down at you. “Okay. Are you ready?” 

You nodded again, and that was when another person caught your attention. “Rin?” 

“M’here,” the other dark-haired striker murmured, his eyes softening with fondness when you smiled at him. “I’ll make sure you get your rest afterwards.”

You hummed, and the idea of knocking off to sleep sounded so good, your eyes had already slipped close. 

“Hey—focus on me, sweetheart.”

Isagi’s hand around your neck squeezed down, cutting off your air supply. You gasped and sputtered, eyes rolling wide open. His grin was feral, touched with a hint of insanity. “Good girl. Now, watch me fuck you, sweetheart.”

He pushed your back onto the pillows, and your eyes instantly went to where you both were connected. Isagi’s pretty cock was smeared with your juices and the other men’s cum, the sight alone so filthy it made your cheeks flush.

“‘Ichi,” you hiccuped, going dumb on every stroke of his heavy cock against your velvet walls. “I-I’m close.” 

Your pussy fluttered around his length, the overstimulation touching you like a livewire. He rolled his hips into yours, the sloppy sounds of your pussy getting him higher than any risky goal. There was a reason he went last, and it was because he wanted to savour the sounds you were making; the way your pretty eyes went all glassy and hazy just for him. 

Isagi loved you so fucking much, he swore he couldn’t breathe when you started to chant his name.

“‘Ichi, ‘Ichi,” you gasped out, twisting in his grip, your back arching. “K-Kiss me, ‘Ichi.” 

He obliged you, ignoring the jealous presence waiting right in the wings, waiting for him to fuck up. But, Isagi was gentle with you. He tenderly planted hot, open-mouthed kisses onto your parted lips, drinking in your sweet whines and mewls of desperation. Isagi himself wasn’t in control of his body; that was the effect you had on him.

You drove him crazy with your supple love and beautiful smiles. Everytime you looked at him, it felt like he had been shot right in the chest. Yoichi was so, so crazy for you, and luckily for him, your feelings were the same.

He let Rin get an eyeful of you licking his lower lip, your treacherous side coming to light when you blatantly showed off your preference for the unassuming striker. The other man looked like he was swallowing shards of concrete, his expression twisted in disgust. But, Isagi had already given him an out and Rin didn’t want to take it—he was stuck with the consequences of his actions. 

“Yoichi,” you sighed out his name, all stickily sweet in your high-pitched moan. “I love you, ‘Ichi.” 

“Yeah?” Isagi grunted, your little confession going straight to his burgeoning ego. “Say it louder, baby. Tell the whole world what you feel for me.”

“I love you,” your gasp of pleasure when he changed the angle of his driving hips fed the monster inside of him. “I love you!” 

“Fuck,” Isagi bit down on your neck, leaving behind a mark for the other men to see. Rin’s own marks were on your shoulders and breasts, but Isagi had gone one step further to make his impression on the tender skin between your neck and jaw—right above your pulse point. It was so every beat of your heart echoed with his imprint and every time any of the boys looked at you, they were reminded of who you loved the most.

 “‘Ichi,” you gasped out, and your stuttering hips told Isagi you were already close. Your thighs tensed around him, and he fueled your unravelling further by rubbing on your clit with his rough thumb, the action making you jerk and gasp like you had been electrocuted.

“Yoichi… ‘Ichi… Yoichi!” you cried out his name as your body gave one final push—your release slamming into you with the force of a thousand brick walls, dragging you straight into darkness.

You thought you might’ve died in this instance. Your entire body felt too heavy, and you could physically hear every beat of your heart.

Someone was holding you tightly to his chest, his lips peppering gentle kisses on your face. You pried your eyes open after what felt like two hours trying to recollect your bearings, only to find a pair of teal eyes gazing down at you in worry.

“Baby?” Rin’s voice was soft and unintrusive. He let you get used to the bright light of a warm afternoon—watching you stretch yourself and ease your muscles.

“What time is it?” you asked in a thick voice. Staring down your body, someone had cleaned you up and dressed you in Kunigami’s oversize t-shirt and Rin’s boxers. You felt refreshed and well-taken care of, your entire heart swelling eight times its size to fit your love for every man in there.

Rin leaned forward and you caught his face with your shaky palms, caressing those defined cheekbones. 

“You slept for almost an hour. Bachira thought you had died.” 

You stifled a giggle, tracing your thumbs over the shape of his mouth. Rin let you pull him in for a kiss, and like the worrywart he was, he didn’t deepen it, not wanting to give into the insatiable lust humming in his veins.

If you thought one horny, touch-starved man was a handful, you hadn’t expected the other seven to come through the door and pile up on the bed, each of them clamouring to cuddle you.

You giggled when Nagi tripped over Reo to snuggle up on your left side, only to be stopped by Bachira who literally yanked the taller man out of the way to steal his place. In the end, you took turns cuddling with each man, their deep sigh of relief that things had turned out great and not as weird as they thought, fed right into your relaxed soul. 

As sunlight streamed in through the blinds, the outside world may be in an upheaval, but within these four walls, you were as safe as you could be in your favourite football team’s arms.

©️lalunanymph, 2023

[makethemmilky]

It was the end of May, and the first truly good beach weekend of the year. That was perfect timing for you, because at 8.5 months pregnant it was probably going to be your and only chance to hit the beach before your little bundle of joy arrived. Your wonderful husband had loaded up the car, and then superstar that he was, had dropped you off for some solo beach time while he took the rest of your little ones for a playdate with their cousins. This had become a little tradition of yours, and he was more than happy to give you the little break you deserved.

Once upon a time you had been modest about showing off your transformed body too much in public, but those days were long past. For this excursion you had deliberately crammed yourself into a bikini at the very frontier of respectability, your tiny bottoms stretched scandalously tight over an ass and hips that had gained way too many inches to be covered properly anymore, and the undersized top doing nothing to stop the wobbling of your milk-filled boobs as you strolled along the sand. But more than anything, it was your bump that was most prominently displayed, and you felt all eyes being drawn to it as you slowly waddled up and down the beach looking for the right spot to put down your chair and towel. As a mom of four already you had learned the hard way to avoid being pregnant during the hottest months of the year, but still, all of these shocked/envious/lustful gazes definitely made you fantasize about getting this kind of attention all summer long.

For a while you're content to just sit back in your comfy chair and sip your iced tea while you soak in the sun's gentle warmth against your heavy body. At this point, when you're at your biggest, you are now constantly aware of the size and weight you've become, and it feels delightful to just experience the caress of sun and sea breeze against all of your curves. Through your sunglasses you stare at the beautiful ocean, the perfect blue of the sky, and of course, do a bit of people watching as well. There are plenty of handsome men here, and more than a few women, and the sight of them all is a reminder that you didn't need of how your preggo hormones make you most horny in your final trimester. You make a mental note to mention this to hubby as servicing those needs later tonight.

And then, you see her.

She was young, definitely only in the first couple years of university. You hadn't initially paid attention to her because she'd been lying on her back getting a tan, one more blonde in a pack of college girls taking a post-finals trip to celebrate. But when a group of them, including her, got up to wade into the ocean, your eyes immediately spotted it. Her midsection had a bulge to it, for now still only slightly out of place on her slender frame, but unmistakable to you. You could tell by the ever-so-slight waddle and the way she was unconsciously adjusting her bikini bottom as she moved. Four months along, four and a half at the most, you're certain of it.

For the next 20 minutes you watch as the group of girls goof around in the ocean, their laughter and shouts audible even from your beach chair. But she's not enjoying herself as much, and you can spot the forced nature of her smile. You didn't know the full story and you never will, but you know enough. As you stare at her through your sunglasses, you remember your first pregnancy and how awkward you'd felt before you'd understood the joys and fulfillment in growing life inside of you.

Well, today's her lucky day, you think. Your nipples are poking through the flimsy bikini material at just the thought.

You wait until the girls are done swimming, and your new friend is making her way towards one of the beach showers to wash off sand. With a heave, you pull your heavy frame out of your chair and follow up in hot, but slow, pursuit. At the shower station her back is to you, giving you the element of surprise.

"Oh my! It''s almost too hot out here for me today!" you say. The girl wheels, eyes widening at she takes in how much of you there is. You smile confidently; your instincts were right.

"But it's worth it to be in the water, you know? Being out there really takes the weight off my back," you continue.

"Um, yeah," the girl says, awkwardly. You pay her no mind.

"Right now you're still pretty small so you probably don't need to worry about that. But by the end of the summer…you definitely will want to be floating out there a lot."

Her eyes drop to her slight bump, her face a look of confusion and disappointment. She' upset that you were able to notice. But you also notice that her hands instinctively drop to touch the bump; another good sign.

"Is this your first one?" you asked. She nods.

"Congratulations! You're positively glowing, my dear."

"Thanks, I guess," she replied.

"I mean it!" you continue, stepping closer, your huge dome only inches from her slight bump. "Pregnancy really suits you. Your husband must be thrilled."

"Uh, boyfriend, actually. And it was kind of unplanned, you know?"

"Oh sweetie! Don't you worry about that. I remember my first time, I was barely older than you are now. I promise you'll be just fine! Being a mom is the best, I promise you."

"Really?"

"Absolutely! Why do you think I'm almost done with my fifth here?" you say, rubbing your midsection for emphasis.

"Wow, five kids!" she says, her expression starting to soften a bit. "I can't imagine going through this five times."

"That's funny, I said the same thing! And now look at me. Trust me, once you get a bit bigger, you'll start to understand."

"Understand what?"

"How good it feels to be pregnant. To be able to grow a life inside you. It makes me feel so powerful. Like a fertility goddess."

The girl is giving you an odd look, so you decide to escalate a bit.

"Can you feel any kicking yet?" you ask. The girl shakes her head. "Well, come here then" you say, and grab her hand. Before she can respond, it's pressed firmly against the side of your massive belly. Her eyes light up in exhilaration.

"Is that what it really feels like?"

"Yes! But somehow it feels even better when it's inside you. I can't quite explain it, but you'll understand soon enough."

"Thanks,"the girl says. "Actually I'm glad to hear that. This has all been kind of stressful. My friends have been trying to cheer me up, but they don't really understand." You notice that her hand still hasn't left your bump.

"Of course they don't, they're e still girls, and you're a woman now. You've moved onto a bigger and better stage of your life."

"i've actually been feeling that recently. Like they don't know what I'm going through, or how important it is."

"Like what? Once you've been pregnant with a whole basketball team like I have, you've seen and done it all."

"I'm sure it's nothing interesting for you. Just stuff like gaining weight, eating a lot, feeling my body change, you know."

"Of course I know! But just remember, all of this is happening for a very good reason. You're growing a life inside of you! That's a beautiful thing, and it makes you beautiful!"

"I don't feel beautiful," she replies, a sad look on her face.

"Nonsense! You're fucking gorgeous," you smile. "I meant what I said before, you're glowing and pregnancy really does suit you. I bet your boyfriend is all over you!"

The girl blushes and smiles awkwardly. "Actually, kind of! He says he loves how big my boobs are getting. But…I'm um, kind of too much for him. Like I wear him out and he falls asleep and I still want more. My gosh! I can't t believe I said that!"

"Don't worry, your secret is safe with me! My husband is wonderful, but at this point he knows he can't keep up with me when I'm this big. There's s no shame in getting some extra help, mechanical or otherwise."

The girl's eyes suddenly get very wide." "What do you mean by 'otherwise'" she asks, quietly.

You take one last step closer, and now your bumps are at last touching. For a long moment you say nothing, and then you reach out to take the younger girl's arm. With a gentle tug, you pull her towards an empty changing room.

"Here, let me show you."

[sinsolstice]

★ 彡 STRESS RELIEVER. ✧ MIGUEL O'HARA

oneshot ❥ you're struggling to keep your focus with the stress and miguel offers to ease that worry off you.

❥ tropes: modern + college au. afab reader + playboy miguel. ❥ content warning: explicit content (18+), finger f*cking, dirty talk. minors do not interact. ❥ extras: divider creds: cafekitsune. ❥ wc: 3,573

a/n. this is long overdue for someone who requested miguel to finger fuck reader as a stress relief. i aged reader and miguel to between 22-23 in this oneshot since they're college students. this fic is longer than intended but hey, we like to take it slow burn here.

Sometimes you contemplate why you put yourself in this kind of situation. 

You were aware that you have exams coming up in the next few weeks. But you were focused on making sure that you got your assignments done before the deadline. So it was natural for you to prioritise those. You wish you had paid more attention to the dates because just when you thought that you would have more time to revise, you didn’t. Leaving you with only three weeks until your exam. And now you’re struggling to get information into your head. 

“Fuck,” you mumble. The machine makes a soft drilling noise as it pours coffee into your mug. You rub your forehead with your hand as you wait for your drink to finish. Thinking about what topics you need to revise for the exam. Mentally planning how you would organise and plan yourself for another long session of studying. It’s going to be another long night.

When your drink is ready, you stride your way to the dining table where all your notes and books are set. With not enough desk space you have in your room, the dining table has turned into your second desk to accommodate all the reading materials and your laptop to work on. You strap yourself in your seat, ready for another torturous session of studying for the finals. 

All the caffeine from the coffee, tea and sugary energy drinks didn’t last long in your system. At first, you feel the buzz of the caffeine that helps you go through two hours of reading and answering mock questions without a proper break. You feel yourself pushing through, feeling motivated that you can do this. But then, the effects wear off, and now you’re struggling through short video clips on your laptop after two hours into your study session. 

Your mind battles. Reminding you about the consequences of you losing more time. But you can’t be bothered at the moment. You are convincing yourself that you deserve a break from studying for fifteen minutes which turned into a two-hour rest and procrastination. 

At this rate, you know that you won't get any studying done. You’re going to have to face the consequences of that but you can’t be bothered about it for now. Staring mindlessly at your laptop with headphones on as you watch a reality television adaption to pass the time. 

“Dios, you’re still here this late?” 

Your eyes look up from your laptop to find your roommate in the dining area. Miguel stands at the entrance in his black leather jacket, red shirt underneath and dark-coloured jeans. His black helmet rests on his left lip and it looks like he’s returned from wherever he went or did. You didn’t realise that he wasn’t in the house you both shared all this time. “When was the last time you looked at yourself in the mirror? You look shit.” 

“Thanks, Captain Obvious.” You say. Your relationship with Miguel O’Hara is rather tricky, to say the least. Sometimes, the two of you get along and have a decent conversation with each other about careers, and personal experiences and share similar interests. Though other times, it’s not necessary. It’s mostly when he would bring people over to the house and then take one girl up to his room. Having to hear moans from the girls he fucked and Miguel’s growls and dirty talks. 

It annoys you to no end, especially the one incident when you walked into the bathroom with him getting a blow job in the shower. It’s still his fault for not locking the bathroom or even putting a sign on the door to say that he’s busy getting pleased.  

Even after that, your subtle attraction for Miguel still resonates with you. 

You realise your mug is empty, another drink that is supposed to keep you going has gone to waste in your system. You can’t be bothered but you know that you’ve wasted time not studying when you’re supposed to. So, you get up from your seat, walk into the kitchen and do the same routine that you’ve done the past few weeks when you’re cramming for finals. Either make your coffee, or tea or grab an energy drink. The caffeine from the coffee is too much for you to handle at the moment and tea isn’t strong enough for you. So you settle for an energy drink where it’s in between enough caffeine to maybe help you go through for another three hours for now. 

“Are you thinking of studying again?” Miguel sounds a bit disbelieving, but not surprised. He’s now in the kitchen with you as you take your energy drink of choice for the night—or early morning. You don’t want to look at the time “There’s no point. You’re not going to remember anything at this rate.”

“Can we just… not do this?” You warn, holding your hand up as a sign for him to stop talking. Stop creating conversations that would lead to an argument because you know it would happen. Especially with your emotions all over the place.  

Miguel stares at you, his eyes roaming up and down. Not long after, his lips curl into a smirk. Leaning his side against the frame of the long, rectangular entrance arch. “You’re stressed out. Miss Perfect finally breaks down for finals.”  

A tired sigh escapes out of your mouth. You focus to proceed on opening up the can, hearing its fizziness before pouring it into your mug. “You could say that.” 

The kitchen falls into silence. What he says is certainly true and you feel that you brought this on yourself. You were off-tracked with your assignments and didn’t check the right exam dates. It’s an error on your part but you are trying to do your best to make it through another year of college without failing. At this point, you’re willing to accept a passing grade just to make it to another year.  

“I’ll study and keep you company,” Miguel declares. “Only to make sure you stay focused and get on track. No more messing around. Got that?” 

You blink, unprepared for his words. You’re not sure why he’s doing this to you but what he said made a rush of warmth fill your chest. Despite his words, you guess that he thinks it’s better to have someone to study with rather than doing it alone. But you don’t ask Miguel if that’s his intention, in case he decides to rethink his offer.

“Thank you.” 

Miguel unfolds his arms and lets it drop to his sides. His hands are in his pockets as he’s about to leave, but then he looks over his shoulder to you. “And also; nadie bebe su bebida energética de una taza.” He says before disappearing elsewhere. 

You blink and look down at the mug in your hand, guessing that Miguel is talking about how energy drinks are meant to drink from their can, and not from a mug. 

* * * * * 

You did manage to push yourself for another two hours before you came crashing again. 

“I can’t focus on anything else right now. My mind has gone blank.” You sigh, slumping on your seat. That’s another study session that failed.

“Hm,” Miguel responds. Focusing on his study materials. “I think you’ve studied too much. That’s why you’re burned out.” 

There is some truth to his words. You have been pushing yourself to the bone for this exam and now your mind is haywired. Everything feels numbing in your head. The feelings of exhaustion, guilt and unbotheredness are jumbled in you. 

“I’m just really stressed out. I want to do well on this exam but my brain just… can’t grasp anything that I’ve studied.” You say, sounding a little disheartened. “I can’t focus, I can’t concentrate.” 

Miguel couldn’t help but glance at you. Taking in the way you’re slumped in your seat and how hollow your eyes are, filled with fatigue and emptiness. You look stressed out. He wonders when was the last time you had rest – a proper break. Not the stupid Pomodoro breaks where you take five to ten minutes of break time before getting back to studying. 

He wonders when was the last time you had taken care of yourself? 

Miguel turns his attention to you when he hears you close one of your heavy books. You let out a sigh, “I can’t even relax without being so much on edge. Fuck.” 

He thinks you’re right as he sees the way your body tenses in stress and anxiety. Miguel’s expression stays unfazed though he does feel sympathy seeing you in such a state. “Hey, you should get some rest. Go to bed early or something.” 

“I will after I attempt to get this lesson done. Then, I’ll go to bed.” 

Miguel gives you a solemn look. Your determination is one of the things he admires about you. Your willingness to do whatever it takes to get your points across. It made you endearing in his eyes. But at the moment, it’s making you look stubborn and somewhat prideful. The last thing you need is a bad experience of burnout before your exam, and he knows that you know this as well deep down.

“Let me help you to relax,” 

“Huh?” You shoot him a confused look. As if he’s said something unusual to you. “Help me… relax? How do you plan on doing that?” 

Miguel nods, “You are tensed up and you’re not getting anything remembered in your head. Your mind can’t focus.”  

You raise a brow at him, unsure where your roommate is coming from. Miguel is right, you do need to take a proper break since your productivity is rather counterproductive. But his words still puzzle you about how he can help you relax. “And how do you plan on doing that, exactly?” You ask curiously. “What do you do to relax when you’re stressed out?” 

“You know, go to the gym. Take a walk, drive around.” Miguel says it casually. “Sometimes masturbating helps to wire your brain to relax.”

You stare at your roommate before burying your face in your hands with a groan. Not only is the suggestion embarrassing but you have to imagine Miguel playing with himself. How his hands would stroke his cock, hot and pulsing in the palm of his hands. Envisioning the grunted breaths and deep groans he makes. It isn’t as if you haven’t done that to yourself either, pleasuring yourself. You’ve done that on the nights where you could hear the headboard of his bed from his room moving as the girl Miguel brought for the night kept moaning. 

You shake your head, dismissing the thoughts immediately. Or try to. “I’m not in the right mindset to do that.” 

Miguel raises an eyebrow. “I’m not saying you should do it. I’m offering to do it. It’s on the table for you.” 

“What?” You stare at him in shock and confusion. You think you heard him wrong but from the unfazed look on his face, you know that he is serious about this. Serious about giving you an orgasm, or maybe multiple orgasms. Because you know from the women and girls he brings over to fuck, Miguel has them moaning more than three times. 

When you open up your mouth, you can hear yourself stammering your words. The thought of it is disgusting but at the same time, arouses you. “Miguel, I–” 

“Do you trust me?” He asks, his red eyes piercing into yours. Captivating you to stop talking. To stop denying the offer of pleasure. You give Miguel a look of uncertainty, unsure how to respond to his offer.

“What’s it gonna be?” Miguel asks. The corner of his mouth curves up to a tiny smirk. “No pressure, chica. I want you to think about it and let me know if you’re up for it or not.” 

Miguel goes back to reading his study notes with a neutral expression as if the conversation didn’t happen. He doesn’t look at you and the silence in the room speaks volumes. Leaving you to think about the offer. You’re not sure why he is even offering himself to give you pleasure. Miguel is your friend, for goodness sake. The guy is out of your league and he has been with other people, you know this. Is he doing this out of pity or could there be more to it? 

The two of you have lived together for three years of schooling, and have known each other for that long. He doesn’t give you attention in a lustful way or lustful like he does with other girls; the kind of interest in starting a sexual relationship with you. It’s a blessing in disguise yet at the same time, you want a connection more than just being his friend. 

You have a crush on Miguel but he doesn’t seem the type of guy who isn’t ready to commit to one person just yet. Especially when you’re both still young and exploring life ahead.  

“Okay,” you closed your book with a thud. You catch his eyes when you fully turn to talk to him. This idea is already as insane as it is, but you’re desperate to stop feeling like a lost cause about your exam. You just want to forget about your test for a few minutes. Maybe a couple of hours at most. “I’ll take up on your offer. What I’ve been doing is not working, and I need some sort of break before I go insane.” 

Miguel grins and then puts his reading materials away. You always think that he looks so handsome when he smiles. “Well then. Move your books and laptop aside and sit on the table for me.” Miguel looks at you when you stare at him. “It will be a lot nicer like that, trust me.” He adds. 

“Okay, I’ll get my stuff out of the way.” You say and begin picking up your books and laptop. Miguel does the same, putting his things away, then turns his attention to look at you. 

You’re sitting on the edge of the table, waiting for his next words. The beating of your heart thumping is the only thing you can hear as you watch Miguel. He stands in front of you in between your thighs. Tall, built and handsome. His red eyes look down on you as they shine under the lights in the dining area. 

You feel his hands on the sides of your waistband shorts, his fingers brushing against your clothed skin and hips. “May I?” Miguel asks as he looks at you. 

“Sure,” you say. You’re not one to be nervous around easily but your roommate seems to have that effect on you. When you lift your hips slightly, Miguel curls his fingers on the waistband and pulls down your shorts. Discarding your clothed item you notice that he’s taken off your panties too. “Miguel–” 

His stare made you pause, his red piercing eyes keep you quiet. You’ve always known what Miguel’s eyes are like but in this moment of what you’re letting him do to you, it stirs feelings in you. The gaze in his eyes is fiery in desire; so focused and enraptured. He looks at you in silence – keeping his eyes on you – as he slowly pulls down everything and discards it somewhere in the room. 

“Open your legs a little for me, pretty,” Miguel tells you. “Yes, that’s it.” 

The heat on your cheeks burns you as your heart thumps in your chest at how intimate and vulnerable the situation looks. Never in your dreams you would be in this situation, much less doing it with Miguel O’Hara.

 “It’s not too late to change your mind and tell me no.” He says. Standing between your legs, his calloused fingers on your inner right thigh. “I won’t hate you for it.” 

Your breathing is soft and steady. “Shouldn’t you have asked me that before you took my panties off?” You chuckled with a small smile. You feel a little more relaxed about what you and he are starting. 

Miguel grins, “I probably should have.” His expression becomes serious. “I’ll start slow.” 

You watch as he puts two fingers in his mouth with a gentle suck. When he pulls them out, his digits are glistened wet under the lights. Lubricated and wet against his tan skin. Miguel catches you dazing at him, his intense expression stays on you, as he brings his fingers between your thighs. They find themselves between your flaps, tracing your inner folds with his fingertips. 

“You’re already wet before I touch you.” Miguel hums in approval. “That’s good.” 

His fingers move slowly like he promised. You feel him gather your sleek arousal with a gentle swipe of his thumb and move up to the hood of your cunt. You moan softly when you feel Miguel play with your clit, circling and putting just the right pressure that has you tingling in sensation. Your hands grip on the edge of the table as you brace yourself. 

“Gosh, that feels nice.” You sigh. Your eyes are closed, indulging in the pleasure, finding your body relaxed and mind in tranquillity. Focusing on feeling his fingers touch and tease your folds and clit. Maybe this is what you truly need for a break from intense studying. 

“I like the look on your face,” Miguel tells you. You can picture the smirk from the tone of his voice. “This is just the beginning of your stress relief.” 

You didn’t get to open your eyes and ask him what he meant when you felt something push inside your cunt. Your walls are wet and warm, feeling one of Miguel’s digits sliding into your pussy with ease. It has you gasping and moaning softly, your back arches and hands gripping tightly onto the table edge. Miguel has his index finger in you and he slips in his middle finger, stretching your pussy open. His thumb is still circling your clit as his fingers thrust in and out of you. 

“Stay still, bonita.” His voice deeps, almost growling. “And don’t think. Just focus on the feeling of my fingers. Relax for me.” 

You can’t help but tighten around his fingers from the command. Hoping that he didn’t feel the way your clit throbs from his command. You never heard him speak like that before – maybe not to you – but it sounds hot. All you could focus on is the way his fingers rub and massage your pussy. 

You can tell that Miguel is certainly experienced with the way he can tease your vulva and play with your clit, letting your breathless sighs and moans guide him. It’s completely easy to forget about anything else but being finger fuck by the guy you liked. 

“Oh, oh.” You softly moan, putting the heels of your feet on the edge of the table. Your hands clutch onto his forearms as Miguel fingers you. It has your head spinning with the way he alternates between fingering and rubbing your slick folds. The pace is not fast or slow-- just perfect, as it eases you off and you forget about what you're stressed about in the first place. 

And when he pushes his fingers into your pussy, it has you tilting your head back in ecstasy, moaning his name, as you feel him going deeper.

"So tight around my fingers. You definitely need this." Miguel smirks, his breath warms your neck. “Need a good stretch, don’t you, bonita?” 

You groan as you feel him continuously plunge his digits in and out of you. Miguel doesn’t stick to one way to pleasure you; he would rub your wet folds, flicker your clit up and down and sideways with his thumb, and circle your little pearl. At the corner of your eye, you see the corner of his mouth curve up in a smirk when clutching onto his forearms for dear life. 

“Miguel,” you mewl. The knot in your lower belly tightens when he plunges his whole fingers into your slick pussy, thrusting them in and out. Your body moves in a sudden, forward thrust when Miguel continues to come hither inside your pussy, having his fingers rubbing your G-spot. He doesn’t stop to flicker and circle your throbbing clit and a sultry gasp catches in your throat as your thighs begin to quiver. “Oh, fuck!” 

“That’s it, beautiful. Oh, you really do need this, don’t you?” Miguel asks almost mockingly. You arch your back in his embrace and let out another moan, feeling his two fingers flicking inside your pussy walls. He knows exactly what he’s doing, drawing out more noises from you as your lower body still trembles, and your cum spilling out of your folds and onto his fingers. 

It feels as if Miguel is toying with you and pussy for a long time, even after being overstimulated and sensitive. He slows down his ministrant but still has his fingers gently rubbing circles on your clit and wet folds. You relax in his arm, head on his shoulder as you regain your senses from orgasm. All thoughts cleared up in your head and you couldn’t even remember what you were thinking or doing earlier before being finger-fucked. 

Miguel’s voice sounds a little raspy and distinct, still toying with your cunt, as he whispers:  “Wanna continue this elsewhere?” 

[amourdivine]

𝐖𝐇𝐎'𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅? ઉ   PICK A CARD

Hello lovelies, I hope you're having a wonderful week! This is perhaps the first heavily shadow work focused PAC I bring to you. I'm quite nervous to post this, since I know delivering these messages can be difficult and I don't like taking a harsh, judgmental approach. I hope this reading resonates. As always, feedback is highly appreciated! If you liked this reading, please consider tipping me at @ amourdivinetarot@gmail.com! xo ♡

paid readings are closed as of february 2024

none of the images are mine unless stated otherwise!

pick a card masterlist & information

how to choose your pile.  take a few deep breaths for and look at each and of the piles separately. see which one brings you to a feeling, a place or a memory. take your time and feel free to come back to it later!

amourdivine. 2021 - 2024 © do not copy, redistribute or edit my content.

୨୧ PILE ONE

who is your shadow self? eight of swords • knight of cups • nine of wands • queen of wands

Your shadow self is the fearful side of you attached to anxiety. The side of you that does not believe you can save yourself from bad situations and feels endlessly hopeless, helpless and trapped. It causes a self-fulfilling prophecy, one where you think you'll inevitably fail, so you self-sabotage (either consciously or not) and end up "proving" yourself right.

However, as helpless as your shadow feels, it never asks for help. It's trapped in a spiral of shame and self-doubt, even self-hatred. All of this happens mentally for most of you, to the point where your body is neglected or stuck in flight / freeze mode. I feel stuck in the gutter, unable to move in the sticky mud. Despite your best efforts to succeed, you may suffer from impostor's syndrome as well, an inability to see your worth, your beauty and your own light. It's almost as if you're scared of your own power, pile one. Very painful, very self-inflicted and something which you may have learn from childhood, maybe you got bullied a lot or were heavily criticized by the people around you. If that happened, I'm so sorry pile one. You deserved so much better. You still do.

how can you work with your shadow self? nine of cups • the sun • queen of swords • queen of wands

You know, when I was entering college, I had a counselor whose words were life changing to me. One day, he picked up a cup full of coffee and asked me: how do you get rid of the coffee, without throwing it out entirely? And I was puzzled. It wasn't possible. Him, in his neverending patience, took me to the water station and started pouring water onto it, until the coffee was cleared away and all that remained was clean, crystal liquid.

Maybe the bad things that happened still haunt you, but they can be drawn out by the good ones. Seek for the light, pile one. Seek the nurturing experiences, the days when you allow yourself to just be, seek the help, the love and stay open to the love. Stay open to the idea that yes, you are worthy, even if you do not feel like it, even if so many people have made you feel otherwise.

These wounds may not fade entirely with time, but you are more than them, always. Always. I know it's never easy to challenge what we've been taught about ourselves, but in order to unlearn all of that, you will have to learn the new things, the true things about you. If they said you were lazy - was that really true? Or were you just tired? You're not "naive", you're pure. You're not "too sensitive", you're in tune with your emotions.

The stories we tell ourselves hold power. What stories are you telling about yourself? Maybe it's time to switch to a new point of view, one where you can rewrite yourself as the person you were never allowed to be.

୨୧ PILE TWO

who is your shadow self? judgement • five of swords • ten of cups • king of wands

Your shadow self is the side of you that thrives in chaos - listen, that's not entirely a bad thing, after all, our shadow reflects something which we need to acknowledge, nurture and work with. However, when you perceive danger or feel threatened, you may turn to harsh words or hurtful actions to avenge yourself.

It can manifest in the form of extreme competitive behavior, the inability to rest, overworking, even maybe envy, jealousy and arrogance sometimes. Now, I'm not here to judge or shame you, you're safe here. I think you have and still feel the need to prove yourself to others, to prove them all wrong. Maybe other people told you that you couldn't do it - and you took it all personally, so personally that it crumbles your self-esteem when someone diminishes your efforts or accomplishments.

Your shadow side craves attention, praise and approval. You want to succeed, to be someone you're proud of, to just never feel insecure, diminished or ignored again. You can also turn possessive with loved ones, wondering if they really love you or if they are lying. There's a lot of skepticism here, too.

how can you work with your shadow self? judgement • ace of pentacles • three of pentacles • eight of swords

Acknowledge your feelings and these insecurities. "Fake it 'till you make it" doesn't always work. Being vulnerable is, ironically, also being strong. Understanding your limitations and allowing for other people to collaborate with you (and vice-versa) will take you even further in life.

Your sense of justice is commendable. Make sure you're using it for justice indeed, and not just vengeance. Your ambition can walk hand in hand with your desire to do good, to make space for everyone else to shine, to open up to others, let them see all of you. No one can love perfection - even if they could, what's there to love about something or someone so perfect that they barely feel human?

It's okay to be scared, to feel insecure, to not shove difficult emotions under the rug. We cannot be at our 100% all the time. And we cannot please everyone, all the time. What you can do is praise yourself, let others praise you when they do and accept it gracefully, making sure you're spreading your warmth and wisdom to others as well. See, I think you have overcome a lot and a lot of people could use your help, either in the form of advice, resources or a shoulder to lean on.

You have leadership potential, pile two. Don't limit yourself by being alone. We were never meant to make it on our own.

୨୧ PILE THREE

who is your shadow self? ace of wands • page of swords • three of cups • king of pentacles

Your shadow self is someone who may indulge in harmful habits out of a need for instant gratification, maybe reckless spending, speed driving, partying everyday or simply not saving up resources and caring about the future. Your shadow self is someone who hates boredom, who craves excitement and cannot fully deal with long-term commitment in its many forms. It wants novelty, adventure and it comes at the cost of your responsibilities, your routine and your friendships even.

This shadow self hates suffering (fair enough, who doesn't?!) and will to go great lengths to avoid it... but ironically, it causes you more pain in the long run by avoiding the unavoidable. By never crying, never addressing your issues or your difficult moments, you end up running right back into yourself and these same issues return.

This side of you doesn't want to grow up - you don't want to fall into the trap of routine and a boring, 9-5 job. But excessive habits are difficult to maintain, no matter how good it feels in the short term. There's a difficult, troubled perception of adulthood and life itself. A need for constant adventure and chaos, a feeling of entrapment whenever you are with anyone who loves you, because you fear being controlled, tamed and used.

how can you work with your shadow self? the tower • nine of wands • nine of cups • three of pentacles

To put it simply, let yourself hurt. Let the foundations of your heart crumble, stop to feel just for a second. You don't have to be on the run all the time. What are you running from, pile three? Disaster, pain and hurt are often inevitable, but they do not have to be the be-all, end-all of our lives. The Tower is a reminder that all that crumbles was meant to crumble eventually, and there is beauty in letting things end naturally, allowing the flow of life to do its thing.

That means aging, growing, learning from the seasons. I think you have a very, very deep heart and mind you're scared to tap into. You're scared to be trapped in the endless hustle, to never feel alive or good once you "settle". But who says the big joys are the only ones that matter? As someone said once, big joys and small joys are often the same. Sometimes, waking up in itself can be an adventure. Don't overlook or underestimate the ways life tries to find you, to cling to you - remember to embark on the hard journeys, knowing you'll have gotten something valuable in the end.

You're brave and rebellious. You can be a catalyst for change in so many ways. Who said adulthood has to be boring? Who said you have to work a 9-5? Do you have to get married? Maybe being a stay-at-home parent isn't for you. That's okay.

Challenging the status quo may not be easy, but you have a natural inclination for it. Your shadow self can dive deeper. It's one of your greatest tools. Your need for joy and fun is not shameful - you can use it for healing, instead of self-destruction.

୨୧ PILE FOUR

who is your shadow self? judgment rx • justice • the high priestess rx • knight of swords

Your shadow self is the side of you that refuses to acknowledge your needs, your wants and desires. It makes you live inside of a bubble, scared of the truth, even if it will set you free. I had the hardest time shuffling for this pile, I kept trying and trying but nothing made sense. I think this is how your shadow side manifests as well, in the lack of clarity, the fogginess that permeates the choices you've regretted.

It's both reckless and frozen, completely lost in a maze, confused, looking for a path, for directions, for anything. It's almost as if you lost your compass, nothing eventually guides you and you remain looking for the directions only you have.

It's too scared to admit what it wants, who you are. Both out of fear of what other people will say, but also out of fear that it'll all go wrong. It's the side of you that remains disconnected from yourself, hidden because it keeps highlighting the aspects you keep trying to ignore, to not know. It can manifest in a lot of ways, either through people-pleasing or being completely reckless. Through lying, denial or even isolation from the world, from life itself.

Something funny is that a song by Bad Suns that just started playing really relates to this pile. "Cinderella slips into a dream like a curse / you could mistake it for heaven at first." This shadow self may live in projection, daydreaming or simply keep you out of touch with everything.

how can you work with your shadow self? six of pentacles • page of wands • two of wands • king of cups

Engagement and socializing are big ways you can work with your shadow self. Being actively curious about the world, about people. Approaching relationships, truths and life itself with genuine interest, no judgement or shaming thoughts involved.

Telling yourself you're an eternal student of this world, because we are and remembering you don't have to know everything. Start scared. Most things, you'll have to do it scared. Unprepared. In the thick of it all, you'll find the answers you need, but only if you are willing to dive deep for them. No taking shortcuts, making assumptions or allowing self-doubt to paralyze your living, because you need to witness life as it is.

Therapy is one big thing, music as well. Anything that connects you to your deepest self, relationships that genuinely make room for who you are, good friends that feel safe and non-judgemental. Your heart has been calling you for so long, pile four. It's about time you listen to it. It knows everything you need to know.

disclaimer. tarot not a substitute for medical and professional advice, nor is it meant to be taken as such. i do not take responsibility for any choice(s) made by you or others regarding my readings. please remember you are responsible for life and in power of it, no one else! ♡

amourdivine. 2021 - 2024 © do not copy, redistribute or edit my content.

[wuxian-vs-wangji]

Tips For Kids Starting College

Intro classes have more homework and studying, higher level classes have more essays or projects.

Don't be someone you're not. Don't act in a way you feel like you have to act because that's the "Character" people know. College is full of people who speak your freak. Be the person you want to be and like will attract like.

If you have issues with your roommate, just be open about it. Don't bottle it up, or you'll explode sooner or later.

Come up with a "safe word" for your dorm room that you and your roommate can discreetly use to be like "Hey, I don't like this situation, can something please change". My roommate and I used "Cinnamon". If one of us had guests over the other found annoying or we wanted to sleep or whatever, we'd just work the word in. "Do we still have cinnamon toast crunch left?" And the other would just be like "Hey, let's move to the lounge!"

Take dumb classes. My uni had a whole course built around vampires in medieval literature spanning various countries. Dumb classes are a treat.

If you want to study abroad, look at your Uni page and also the page of the Uni you want to study at. Applying directly to the Uni overseas for a program can save massive money. My study abroad at Yonsei in South Korea would have been $15k, but it was $0.00 and they paid ME to come over(even paid back the airfare). The Unis already had credit share agreements, so it was simple and easy.

Do not say "I'm technically a sophomore because of AP credits." You will immediately see eyes rolling. Everyone has AP credits, chill.

Most textbooks are available in the library, and a hand scanner is cheaper than actually buying the books.

Chat with your advisor. Don't just ignore them until there is a problem, visit them once a semester just to make sure you don't get any surprises. Just a little "How am I doing?" Let them know your goals and career goals and they can recommend stuff.

If you're struggling, reach out to your professor. In my experience, they're usually really willing to chat and have a lot of advice on how to handle stuff you're not clear about. Topics or elements of the lectures- these are people who are passionate about the topic, they will be willing to chat if you say specifically what you're struggling with (don't just hit them with "I don't get it").

[dreadsuitsamus]

Teacher's Night Out | Satoru Gojo x Reader |

author's note: i just imagined a silly lil night like this with him haha he honestly would be so much fun for sooooo many shenanigans

pairing: satoru gojo x fem!reader

warnings: au verse, gojo and reader are college professors, small mention of nsfw topics but nothing remotely explicit, looooootsa kissing

"Your movie is in theater five. Enjoy!" The teen attendant smiles, pointing your way to the left of the crossroad of the theaters.

Satoru grins and leads the way, practically dragging you down the hall. It takes all of your coordination skills just to stay on your feet as the overexuberance from Satoru threatens to remove your arm from its socket. "Why are you so eager?? This movie is supposed to be really bad!"

"You answered your own question." Satoru looks back at you for a wink and pretty smile, tugging you closer to his body as he urges you into the darkened theater that's already playing the previews. "You never have quite as much fun watching good movies as you do making fun of bad ones!"

Letting slip a quiet laugh, your earrings gently knock against your cheek as you shake your head at such an intention. It's not shocking, not one bit, to think Satoru would genuinely rather watch a terrible movie than any other, though roping you into it was something you foolishly didn't expect. It was meant to be an after work thing, nothing more than colleagues spending some time together outside the confines of the time clock, but with the way nobody else showed up and Satoru wasted not even a minute waiting for your other work friends, not to mention how touchy he’s being, the inkling that Satoru is up to something starts nagging a bit more.

The fact that you don't mind is awfully telling to both you and him.

Satoru quickly ushers you both to your seats, the theater so laughably empty that, even though you're a bit late, you can still get the absolute best seats in the house. He slips a few boxes of candy from his pockets, offering them up to you like cards. "Pick any! Except the Sour Patch Kids." Those long fingers swiftly pluck the box from your selection, and you laugh and take another.

"I appreciate you sneaking in candy, but I'm gonna go get a drink from-"

"I'll do it!! Keep my seat safe!" With that, Satoru is quite literally leaping across the rows of seats to the exit, and you can only stare in awe.

He's truly an idiot, and somehow the most decorated professor at the college you're both employed at. It's said by nearly every student he's had how they simultaneously regretted and did not regret taking his class. The curiosity alone makes you wish you could experience the teachings of Gojo Satoru for yourself, though knowing him on the other side of the desk is much more ideal.

It isn't long before your colleague returns, two large sodas in hand that have your brows practically rising to your hairline. “Jeez, Satoru, there's no way I could even dream of finishing this!”

“And these are the medium cups! I was this close to ordering large, just to see how much of my hand and forearm would fit.” He places his drink in the cupholder to his left as you set yours to the one on your right, the one between you left to house the little boxes of contraband he's snuck in. Satoru quickly swaps glasses, leaving the more tinted ones in their case as he opts for his regular frames, not that he plans to actually watch the movie— he's already seen this dumpster fire of a film, and it wasn't even fun to make fun of!

Your gaze flicks to the large screen, briefly wondering just how many previews for much better movies, and maybe much worse, you'll have to see before what you paid for starts to play. Satoru’s slender fingers brush your jaw, gently urging you to look back at him instead. His brilliantly bright blue eyes look at you in earnest, a little smile on his lips as he chews a gummy. “I'm glad you came to see this with me.”

“Of course, Satoru. Especially since the rest of the 'invitees' didn't show.” Your voice is dripping with suspicion, lips curving and a giggle following at the completely unabashed look on his face.

“Guess that cat's out of the bag. But come on! Can you imagine Nanami at the movie theater?! What a bore!”

Another laugh bubbles up despite your best efforts to stay somewhat hushed up. There are a few strays here, after all, and you'd hate to end up in someone's viral Twitter posting for being rude in a movie theater. “Satoru! Kento is a fine man; he can be more relaxed than you give him credit for.”

“Oh?” Satoru’s brow raises and he leans in closer, as if to whisper conspiracy in the dead of the night, his nose nearly tapping the tip of yours. “Have you and Nanami been spending extracurricular time together?”

“You do know we run the creative writing club together, don't you?”

“Literature nerds.” Satoru snorts, his breath fanning across your skin. “What kind of smutty, filthy things does he write, hmmm?”

“Gojo!” You scold, plucking his chest and just barely being able to keep your heart from pumping out of your chest with his awfully close proximity. Boundaries have always been a tad wavy with Satoru, personal space becoming less personal whenever he's around, but he's never quite… unabashedly close to your lips with his own.

“What?? Fine, fine. Keep his secrets! I’d rather hear about what you write anyway. That's the fun stuff.” Satoru leans in closer, his soft, pink lips a mere hair’s breadth from yours— half of an exhale and they'll be touching.

“Come to this Friday's meet then.” Your whisper isn't out of consideration for any other attendees of the movie, as the lights are drawn down and it's begun to play now. “We're doing poetry this week.”

“I can think of far better ways to spend a Friday night.” Satoru lowers his own voice to a murmur. “How about we have our own little meet, you and me?”

“Isn't that what this is?”

“What, you can't make a little more time for me?” Satoru pouts pathetically and you begin to suspect that he can cry on command after seeing how sad his eyes seem.

“I’m a busy woman, Satoru. You know the life of a college professor.” Your tongue darts out over your lips, tasting the vanilla cupcake flavored gloss you slid on tonight.

“So let's make the most of this time then.” Satoru's knuckle taps your chin up and then he's pressing his lips to yours. It's a gentle kiss, an ultimate test of your boundaries, but one he's confident will go his way. He notices the little things about you, the way you linger for him at the end of the day, just to walk to the parking lot together. You have his Starbucks order memorized, make him delicious sweets all the time and do plenty of other soft gestures that make his heart beat.

Warmth floods your face at Satoru's kiss— never in your life did you think things would get to this point between the two of you. All that time pining for him was surely wasted, wasn't it? You certainly could have made a move months ago, and he'd have received you eagerly. It's you that deepens the kiss, encouraging Satoru’s tongue to lick at your sweet lips and, little by little, remove the tasty gloss from your lips.

Satoru’s teeth gently dig into your lower lip, sucking it into his mouth for a moment, letting go soon after. The armrest between you is quickly flipped up, your poor candy boxes sent flying as Satoru moves in further, bracing a large hand on your back as he lays you back in the seat. A rumble echoes in his chest as your fingers find their place in his hair and gently thread through the white locks, spurring the professor’s kissing into something more frenzied, more desperate and with a tinge of neediness dabbled in too.

Your concept of time is muddied by the time Satoru pulls his lips back, your lip gloss smeared between both of your faces in a messy display of actions that you'd expect teenagers to do rather than adults past thirty. Satoru smiles down at you, eyes beautiful crescents to match the gorgeousness of his grin. “So you'll meet up with me again soon, right?”

Satoru can hardly register your snort before your arms are around his neck and pulling him down for more.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Satoru turns his head to the screen, his brows knitted as he witnesses a scene that certainly wasn't there when he actually watched this movie before. “We're in the wrong theater!”

It's a tad hard to explain to the manager on duty that there's been a mistake when the movie you were actually in was ten minutes from its end, but somehow Satoru manages to talk his way into a showing of the film you'd actually paid for, giving you just enough time to slather on some more lip gloss before Makeout Paradise 2: Electric Boogaloo.

[lodeddiperactivate]

I hate you more! Part 3

Pairing: Rodrick Heffley x fem!reader

Word count: 737

Warnings: angst

Summary: Reader sabotages Rodrick’s chances with Heather. A classic enemies to lovers!

Author's note: I'm trying to be more consistent in writing, and I'm trying to "plan out" the chapters more? As you may have noticed (or not), I have also updated my masterlist for better reading experience I guess haha I have also started to be more detailed as I can when posting fanfics including warnings and proper tagging lol I'm still new to all of this but yeah :) This chapter's a bit short but I just wanted to get this out so I can start "planning" the next few chapters? lol yeah

Tags: @tomhockstetter7-111 @vihtoriacorrea @sleepyb1txh

"How do you read this again?" You asked Rodrick while pointing at the word "Sweaty" that's spelled out on a dog bowl.

"Uhh duh, it's sweetie!" Rodrick said confidently.

This is the second day of your tutoring session with Rodrick, and a day before your big test. You had arrived at the Heffleys a bit early so you decided to hang out with Greg and Rowley in the living room when Greg told you about how Rodrick pronounces "Sweetie." You decided to put it to the test when Rodrick came in through the front doors, and you held up the dog bowl and asked him what it says.

You, Greg, and Rowley failed miserably at trying to hide your laughter. It was too much that even Rodrick got embarassed. What's worse is that he doesn't know why you guys were laughing. He taunted Greg, and you decided to step in.

"Alright, come on, Rodrick, time to study," as you pull him by the waistband on his shirt.

"Don't tell me what to do," Rodrick snapped at you as he eyed you pulling him by his shirt.

"Oh? I think in this case, I can," you snapped back at him.

"Is that so?"

"Yes, because if you don't," you paused for a while and smirked at him. "Oh Mrs. Heffleyyyy," you said in an almost sing-song voice.

"Fine fine, you're a snitch!" Rodrick sighed in defeat as he headed upstairs into his room.

"She's awesome!" Greg told Rowley but you didn't hear it because you were already walking up the stairs with Rodrick.

When you arrived at Rodrick's room, it was still as messy as the first time you had set foot in there.

"Geez, would it kill you to clean up in here?"

"Why clean my own room when my mom will do it for me when she gets tired of calling me out on not cleaning my room?" Rodrick said as if he had figured out all the answers to the world. You just rolled your eyes.

"Let's just get this over with."

"What's the rush?" He asked.

"None of your business," you replied. The truth is that you're planning to sneak out later because you heard that there was this party where college students go to at the far-end of town. You always thought that you were too mature for your age so you casually enjoy hanging out with older people. Truth is, you always thought people can see right through your "too cool to be here" attitude and you're worried that people would hate you for it. Maybe Rodrick was right when he said you were only pretending in order to fit in. Did he just figure out your whole double life, the one you tried oh so hard to hide?

The good news is that no one can really tell how old you were when at events like college parties, and you still have your own set of fake IDs from when you were dating your ex. Rodrick didn't ask anymore questions but you can tell that he was curious about it.

"Anyway, let me be frank, you suck at spelling and your grammar is shitty. If I am getting this $100 a week, you need to really mean it."

"Why should I? You're the one getting paid, and if I recall correctly, you lied to me!"

"About what?"

"About Heather!"

"Please, you never had a chance with her!"

Rodrick became silent. His expression pained. You apologized and decided to reach your hand out to him, with the intention of giving him a light tap on the shoulder, but he dismissed it.

"Yeah okay," Rodrick's voice was low and soft. "Whatever," he said after some pause.

He was sitting on the bed and you were facing him, books and notes sprawled out in front of you two. Recently, you've noticed that there's this gnawing feeling whenever you see this side of him, like you want to take care of him. Then again, there is that other side that makes you want to punch him in the face.

"Rodrick," you said softly.

"What?" You detected a hint of annoyance in his voice.

"What if I split the $100? You get $40, I get $60, as long as you take this seriously. And if you take this seriously, we can end today's session a bit early," that last one was for your own benefit.

"Deal."

DOAWK masterlist

[galene-gothic]

𝖶𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖨 𝗆𝖺𝖽𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 ?

୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ I hope this reading found you in good health, every reblog is appreciated and thank you for everything :) ˖♡ ˎˊ˗ ꒰ 🐇 ꒱

˗ˏˋ༻ʚ♡︎ɞ༺ˎˊ˗             PAID SERVICES

Today we'll take a look at:

- how has the patriarchy affected you?

- what makes you such a worthy and respectable person?

- what were you made for?

⸼ ۫ ︎︎⊹ ! 🪡︎ Pile 1 ꒱

꒰ How has the patriarchy affected you ? ꒱

I think we're all aware of this but women and men function differently due to their hormonal cycles that are different. Yes, women are really capable of being hard workers and go getters, however, women burn out much easier at some point in the month. The patriarchal system has completely ignored that fact and even if women are dying from period pain, we're still supposed to work because otherwise we're deemed as 'weak' or 'lazy'. However, this has caused many women, including you to become very restless. You're constantly on the go and tend to burn yourself out. The patriarchy controls your mind a bit more than that of an average person's. You find yourself changing your mind and words regarding things very often, when engaging in conversations with men because you really value their validation (whether you're aware of it or not). Some of you have only guy friends because 'girls are too much drama'. While, it's not possible to be a 100% self aware.

You lack self awareness in general. You haven't improved yourself enough in terms of morals and character. Spiritually and emotionally, you're lacking. Due to how hard you seem to work, you might have accomplished a lot or have a lot of money but you're still very poor in terms of personal character. You've also become quite a thrill chaser, some of you do not understand how hook-up culture, friends with benefits, uncommitted relationships, situationships, etc. only benefit men. You also have a sense of hyper independence. You might end up providing for or spoiling men who you are not in committed relationship with you just because they make you feel excited but do not take any money from them because of that sense of hyper independence, just for them to disappoint you later and you feeling completely drained out. Some of you have fallen victim to trying to be a certain way (wife material) just to attract men, just to lose yourself in the end. Could be a temporary energy but is definitely driven by patriarchy.

꒰ What makes you a worthy and respectable person ? ꒱

You're at the end of a cycle. I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't have any friends because you seem to have gone through major and multiple disappointments, betrayals, heartbreaks and endings in the past one and a half year. Even though, you've lost your dignity and reputation, people tried to throw dirt on your name (probably because you made a few mistakes), you're building yourself back up. One thing about you is that even though you tend to completely burn yourself out, you know how to give yourself time to heal and recover. It's your time to start again, a fresh slate, a whole different book but you're making the most out of it. You know that you've hit the absolute low and now the only way is up. You have had really traumatising experiences at school, college or university. I'm getting that you have a lot of potential to grow. This reading is supposed to remind you that the end was not just the end, it was also a new beginning. Some of you might've considered throwing everything away, if you know what I'm suggesting but you chose to continue living, I'm really proud of you.

You're able to keep going even though there are times when you feel really alone, probably because you actually are. You lack the presence of supportive people in your life or did at some point of time and have gone through really hard times. Even though, you have the tendency to drown in your sadness, one thing you do know how to do is to look within yourself for answers, you tend to have epiphanies, you look into the past in order to move forward with a proper slate, you try to make sure you have learnt all the lessons in order to move forward. You've had a lot of selfish people around you who you gave a lot to. Those people seem to have pushed you under busses and trains though (metaphorically). However, you're able to take good care of yourself and know how to do well by yourself. You're learning how to put yourself first. You cannot be put into a box, you have different aspects of yourself that you tap into when necessary. You're also able to accept people for who they truly are, literally all aspects and sides of them. You have a thirst for knowledge but because of how you're constantly on the go, you might not have time to educate yourself which is causing you to feel untrue to yourself.

꒰ What were you made for ? ꒱

You were made for being original. One of the reasons why you are not in the best place is because of how you try to deny your true spirit and fit in instead or atleast tried. No one has ever understood you and you might have been considered to be an outcast for being different, so, it might be difficult but that's where you'll find true happiness. You're meant to change your views to be a bit taboo but still human and preach it to others, not through words but through actions. You're here to be understanding towards those who are similar to you. You're different from the majority and that's who you're supposed to be. The energy that I'm getting is that you have people around you who are misogynistic, racist, religious to the point of hatred towards others, etc. so unintentionally, you end up denying your own morals in order to fit in with them.

You were meant to be open minded and listen to different opinions. You were meant to be rebellious, and break the toxic cycle of oppression masked as 'traditions'. You were made to question things and try to cause necessary changes instead of being like "it is what it is" or "atleast, women don't have it as bad as in the '80s." There's a chance that you're an activist, freedom fighter or have a similar energy. You're supposed to challenge power and authority in order to help the weaker ones. You were here to create a better earth. If you're one of the people who forces your religious beliefs onto others and hates on people with a different religion, this pile is not for you or atleast you're supposed to outgrow that energy. I'd be surprised if you guys even had a religion, to be honest. You were here to fight for freedom and break past restrictions, it likely started with your childhood home or family, maybe you had to fight in order to be a person of your own.

⸼ ۫ ︎︎⊹ ! 🪡︎ Pile 2 ꒱

꒰ How has the patriarchy affected you ? ꒱

You tend to have ingenuine platonic relationships with girls. It's like, both of you dislike each other and you both know you dislike each other but act like you do not dislike each other to each other's faces, even though you both know that the other knows that you kind of dislike them. People who hate you tend to comment "so gorgeous" to your posts and you've been guilty of doing the same thing in the past too. If you still do it, please grow out of it. You have a hard time trusting girls, tend to keep secrets and are really private which causes girls to be cautious of you. You take responsibility for men's shit and believe you need to earn worthiness in other people's lives. You might have a belief that you'll only be worthy if you earn a certain amount of money or look a certain way. You care about other people's emotions, including the men surrounding you but even when they do not give a shit about your feelings, you still feel guilty.

I'm getting you being like "but I don't want to hurt him" even though he made you sleep on the couch in your own house, you paid for every date, he did/said things to break you down and continued entertaining other people. You tend to neglect one aspect of your life for another and even though I'm not being able to pinpoint how, it is a product of patriarchy. Either, you already have or need to decenter men because it seems to be ruining your life. You've learnt how to stay quiet and hold back especially when it comes to men because they could do potentially dangerous things to you or because you center them and are too scared to speak out. You might come from an area where the difference in treatment between men and women is really evident, due to which you might've not gotten the same opportunities as men or have seen older women not getting the same opportunities as men. You tend to question yourself a lot, hesitate, doubt your skills and worthiness, etc. My advice is to decenter men and build yourself instead.

꒰ What makes you a worthy and respectable person ? ꒱

You're going through an internal transformation and are kind of having an existential crisis. You question your beliefs and values. You might have a tendency to cling onto the past though. However, you're releasing and starting fresh. I think you're starting to understand the importance of a stable foundation at this point of time. Mentally, you tend to be scared of changes but are starting to learn how to let go. You're also able to put your ego aside in order to be true with and to yourself. You might've recently gotten out of a toxic and abusive relationship or friendship, it doesn't have to be physically abusive but they did use you for their own personal reasons while neglecting you as a person. You're finally able to realise what doesn't serve you and release those things and people. You are also learning how to accept yourself and not believe that you're a bad person just because of a few mistakes that you made. You're learning how to be independent and gain control over your life.

You have a really selfless side that was misused, however, you're learning how to not shame yourself over it. You're also able to avoid distractions, differentiate between what's good and what's not, and move forward with your life. You're self controlled and in touch with the darker aspects of yourself, so many of you are doing shadow work or should start doing it, very beneficial for you. You respect other people's differences. You're realising that love is supposed to be mutual and you deserve to receive the love that you give out to others. You're also very loyal once you trust or love people enough. You value deep connections and understand that being deeply loved is always better than being widely liked. You don't treat uglier or foreign people in a bad way, you respect everyone as long as they respect you and you're able to show respect. You're good at bonding with people and expressing love to others, this might've caused you to be victimised and used in the past but you're learning how to turn it into a strength.

꒰ What were you made for ? ꒱

You likely need a lot of alone time. You were made for a peaceful life and also to provide that space for others. You were made to teach others that they are allowed to take care of themself in order to heal. Some of you could like or study psychology. You were made to contemplate life and grow as a person. Meditating could make you feel closer to yourself. You'll likely have periods in your life where you'll be popular and well liked until you fall and are looked down on, you're supposed to make the most out of those moments. You might be power and fame hungry actually, your true sense of happiness will come only when you understand that developing your character is better than chasing fame. You'll have to learn how to feel successful on the inside.

You might achieve success later in life or atleast when you've learnt how to not function on ego, when you let go of arrogance. You're supposed to build confidence, character and self esteem first, otherwise, no matter how successful you'll get, it'll fall apart. You'll have a lot of realisations and private victories. Also, you'll have to learn how to not go broke while trying to look rich. You'll have a lot of unrequited love experiences, I wouldn't be shocked if you've already undergone a few of them. You're supposed to learn how to not pass blame and be a little less reasonable with toxic people. You'll learn so much through love, heartbreaks and experiences. Most of your heartbreaks will be through situationships. You'll have to go through extremes of personality and situations in order to learn and help people younger than you.

⸼ ۫ ︎︎⊹ ! 🪡︎ Pile 3 ꒱

꒰ How has the patriarchy affected you ? ꒱

This pile at some point has been guilty of being proud about dating someone popular or something along those lines, if not, you pretend to be happy and content in order to make other women jealous, you might not be aware of it but if you deeply reflect, you'll find this to be true. You understand how being in touch with the correct or well reputed men will increase your value in other women's eyes. If not, other women try to do that to you. Regardless of whether you know it or not, you tend to see other women as competition and vice versa. You know how to make the most out of patriarchy. You're a hardworker and run after success. I feel like patriarchy has caused you to hate men because you have learnt a lot and understood how it works and how most men are incapable of empathising with stuff.

You might show an attitude to men or not give them the time of the day, atleast most men. The way you seem to be living life is with a "when men do it, it's alright but when I do it, it's not? fuck it!" mindset. You love seeing women putting men to their place, it gives you an odd satisfaction. There have been times when misogyny and men have made you feel really powerless and incapable. You were also mentally and emotionally all over the place. You might come from a place where men are babied but really young girl children are expected to be all responsible. I feel like men around you act like they know more, they're smarter when in reality, you've always had to dumb yourself in order to make them feel better about themself. I'm sorry but that's all that I'm getting here. I hope this energy is temporary because while patriarchy sucks, there are good men around !!

꒰ What makes you a worthy and respectable person ? ꒱

You're able to accept that people have different beliefs (as long as they have good morals) and will have different life journeys. You naturally seem to attract a lot of envy if I'm honest. You know how to work in a team despite fights and arguments. At this point, you also tend to avoid unnecessary fights and competitions. You don't enjoy conflict. You're able to make decisions for yourself and know how to come to a middle ground with people. You tend to go through an internal conflict whenever you do something wrong. You're sensitive to small details but that's because of your detail oriented eyes. You try your best to organise your thoughts, and know how and when to use intellect against people. You're quite demanding. You should be careful with words and more expressive, there are people who tend to be worried about you because they care about you. You guys have pretty straight forward yet refined speech.

You could be seen as someone unkind but that doesn't stop you from trying to make wise decisions. You've gotten rid of a victim mindset and have developed a winner mindset instead. You have realisations and breakthroughs that you use in order to become a better person. You're really resilient and try to develop yourself as a person. You're honest and very clear when communicating. You should learn how to plan things and write them down though. You're very intelligent and witty. You have a vision for the future and have great imagination. Emotionally, you try to express your positive feelings truthfully. Success finds you everywhere because of your mindset, you know how to take lessons and move forward. I think you have the tendency to come off cold though, almost as if you're speaking without emotions but only because you're really honest instead of feeding into delusions. You're able to overcome any obstacle thrown your way, especially if it affects you emotionally. Truly, proud of you guys, continue going !!

꒰ What were you made for ? ꒱

You were made for happiness. You are supposed to learn how to build things for yourself and appreciate what you have. You're supposed to be wise and self disciplined, and teach the same things to younger girls. You're supposed to help others navigate life through your actions and also your words when they come to you asking for advice. You were born to live a comfortable life so naturally I don't think you tolerate bullshit as much as the last two piles. You are meant to have more than enough of everything and help others with it. You're supposed to be successful while doing exactly what it is that you wish to do. At some point, you're supposed to lack confidence and build it gradually. You were too naive in the past which caused you a lot of trouble. You're supposed to build a comfort zone for yourself after stepping out of your previous one.

You're supposed to learn how to not be reckless but also how to not lose opportunities while playing safe. You're supposed to teach how to have fun to young girls who had to grow up too fast. You're supposed to learn how to not cry over spilt milk. One emotion that you seem to have felt throughout your life is guilt, you are here to learn how to help people through tough experiences. You're supposed to experience negative feelings and learn how to deal with them and find happiness. You're also supposed to give hope to others is what I'm getting. You're supposed to teach others how to think about the worst in order to stay realistic while still not expect it or let it worry you too much. You'll see a lot of betrayals in this lifetime, even if it's not you experiencing them first hand. You're supposed to learn how to trust in love again.

[qqueenofhades]

coming from one of those "born in mid 2000s and is now suddenly an adult, making everyone feel old," people, do you have any resources to learn how to bullshit your way through getting a job with zero experience. cause i cant even put like "babysitting" or anything since covid prevented literally any teenage-typical jobs and i kinda dont know what to put on a resume beyond the university im currently attending and the high school i graduated from. and they still dont teach you this in school even though we've complained for years 😭

Okay my chilluns, listen up. This is how to bullshit your way into a basic 1-page resume even if you think you have absolutely dum-dum-diddlysquat to put on it. I completely feel you, as it's hard as hell to get a job even in the ordinary course of things, and especially when everything seems to want 10 years of experience and a bachelor's degree (and still pays like shit). But you gotta be persistent anyway. So here follows the step-by-step guide of How To Resume:

Open a new Word (or other word-processing software of your choice) document.

Pick a nice, professional-looking font (for the love of God, no Comic Sans). Times New Roman is fine; you don't have to overthink it. My own CV is currently in Perpetua, because it's a nice serif that looks crisp and a little different, but it is still clean and readable. Garamond or Cambria or other starter typefaces are fine too. Make sure it is the right size, usually around 12pt.

Put your full name at the top, centered, in BOLD CAPITALS. Increase the typeface size a few more points on this, to make it stand out and to make it take up space.

Underneath this, in regular-sized text, put your contact information: mailing address if you're comfortable sharing it, or if not, at least your phone number and email address. Use a school email if you have it, and not some weird/in-jokey personal email.

Start a new paragraph. In a slightly smaller font (italic if you want to make it look classy) write a few words about yourself. This should be something like I am a [Major] student at [University] looking for a part-time, entry-level position in [sales, retail, office, etc]. A [year] graduate of [High School] in [City, State], I am [prompt, reliable, detail-oriented, mature, friendly, etc] and a hard worker who is eager to gain experience and positively contribute to your business.

Start a new paragraph. Change the alignment from Center to Left. Create a new heading in bold underline labeled Education.

Under this, fill in your education (college first, followed by high school). Include the institution name, city, and state, the year you graduated or expect to graduate, any honors or awards, any extracurriculars, any grade-point averages if they're good (i.e. 3.0 and above), and your expected major in college.

Start a new paragraph. Create another heading: Experience.

This is where you put absolutely anything you can think of (in chronological order, most recent first and counting backward). Did you volunteer for something ever in your life? Put it down! (Title of work, dates, location, brief description of work). Did you do yard work for someone for a weekend? Put it down! Were you (or are you) part of a student club or organization in high school or university? Have you organized or taken part in any local initiatives in your community or neighborhood? Put it down! Basically, absolutely any kind of work, paid or unpaid, that might be relevant, regardless of how long it was or when it took place.

Under that, put the new heading/paragraph Skills and Interests.

Have you worked with Microsoft Word, Outlook, PowerPoint, Adobe, Photoshop? Put it down! People love that shit! Do you use social media and/or know how to work it better than the average grandma? Put 'er down! You get the idea. Think of anything in your daily life that can be put in Job Language and then see if you can do that. You are in university; do you have any projects, papers, or other things that you're proud of? Have you successfully managed a (gasp) group project? Do you make any kind of art? Are you a registered voter who has taken part in civic/political organizations, drives, or events? (If not, REGISTER TO VOTE! This is your angry grandmother speaking). All of that can go down. Even if it's not job experience per se, it's life experience and shows that you are someone who is engaged with the world and working to gain more.

Last paragraph and heading: References. Ask a few trusted adults who know you well and aren't related to you, such as a favorite high school teacher or a university faculty member/degree advisor, if they'd be willing to serve as referees. Put down their full names, titles/place of work, email addresses, and phone numbers.

Voila! You have a full page resume, probably even a little more if you're lucky. Proofread, make sure the spacing is even and the alignment is right, it doesn't look weird, the text is a consistent size, it's all the same color, there are no glaring typos or grammatical errors, etc. etc. Save it as a PDF.

Boom. Done. You are now a Job Hunting Maestro.

If you get an interview, you don't need to pretend that you have tons of experience or that you're something you're not, but you can present what you ARE in a positive light anyway. Don't apologize for yourself or play yourself down pre-emptively; be confident about yourself and what you can offer. You're a college kid looking for your first part-time job, COVID prevented you from a lot of normal teenage work experience, you're willing to work hard and learn new things. Here's your resume. What would be a good time to talk again.

Good luck! I believe in you.

[physalian]

What No One Tells You About Writing 8— “Anyone can write a book”

Yes. But actually no. I say “writing is easy” in that it doesn’t take a degree and textbook learning to understand. You can get an English or lit degree if you want, but writing is incredibly subjective. It’s not even like an art degree that has you study different mediums and historical styles. “Writing is easy” in that it’s about feeling, and instinct, and a little bit of common sense. Anyone can do it in that it doesn’t take financial investment to start. Steal a tchotchke pen and paper from a hotel room—you’ve got all the tools you need. I have a communications degree and 9 years of experience, and I'm about to publish my first supernatural fantasy novel.

Writing is not easy, however, if any of the following applies to you:

You want to make enough money to do this full time

You want to appeal to mass audiences

You want to be a NYT bestseller**** or get an adaptation

You want to be regarded as the best of your generation and fill bookstore shelves

1. It takes a healthy dose of self-awareness and a reality check

 I beta’d for an author who thought that he was comparable to GRRM, the author of A Song of Ice and Fire, because both have adult themes in their book and if GRRM can do it, why can’t he? The sheer vastness of the divide between ASOIAF and this awful, awful manuscript wasn’t worth putting into words for the amount I was being paid, though I tried.

Yes, you can write whatever you want. Yes, you can write to please yourself and stroke your ego. You can write the hammiest wish-fulfillment author insert that you desire. But you can’t expect anyone else to want to read or pay money for it. It’s great to have confidence as an author and envision your success, but starting right off the bat with “everyone will love this book because I’m really smart and I love this book” is only going to leave you bitter and penniless.

2. You might be an expert in your given field, doesn’t automatically make you an expert at storycrafting

I really, truly want the above godawful toe wart of a human (who tried to justify pedophilia in his book with the Israel-Palestine conflict) to stop featuring in my writing advice, but I know he’s not the only person out there who thinks like this. You might have a doctorate in engineering, medicine, political science, chemistry, physics, history, paleontology—any field you want. That does not mean you can successfully translate your expertise into a well-crafted and compelling narrative. It means you can write a college textbook lecturing your readers for 300 pages. Heck, if you can't explain what you do like I'm 5 years old, then you're not an expert in your field.

Elements of good storytelling include well-rounded characters, solid pacing, compelling themes and motifs, an engaging main conflict and character arcs and edge-of-your-seat action, romance, debates, and arguments. It’s so much more than “I’m going to write a textbook, but have my character tell it to you, and everyone will love it”.

They won’t.

3. “I’m gonna be a millionaire like JKR”

The frustrating thing about making money writing is that at the end of the day, you are still selling a product. Which means that it doesn’t matter how amazing you think it is, if it’s not what sells. The Fifty Shades series is hardly a poetic epic with deep, meaningful characters and themes, but it sold. It got adaptations. Why? Because it was a product people wanted and its writing style appeals to mass audiences who aren’t entertained by fluffy, antiquated prose. I hated the Divergent books. They soullessly and shamelessly fed off the success of Hunger Games. But they sold because “teen dystopia HP houses” was what audiences craved and what Hollywood was pushing to make movies out of.

Personally I don’t have any nostalgia for Harry Potter and I both wish I did so I could have one more beloved series and fandom to participate in, but also am glad I don’t because of JKR. HP is chock full of plot holes and “fuck it we’ll do it live” worldbuilding and so many concepts that look cool on paper until you really start thinking about it.

JKR didn’t make a million dollars because she wrote the greatest fantasy series. JKR made a million dollars because she wrote a book that sells every goddamn piece of lore for $15.99 or more and collects on all those sweet, sweet royalties. She understood that she’s selling a product, not just a story, selling everything from Slytherin ties and wizarding robes to golden snitches, sorting hats, wands, chocolate frogs, and every other prop seen in the movies.

You sure can chase trends and I’m sure Divergent is somebody’s favorite book and you can hock chocolate frogs. Everyone’s writing goals are different.

4. “But GRRM did it” (or, adhering to genre expectations)

Circling back to this one. Once again, you can write whatever you want, no one is stopping you. However, books are products and if what’s in the summary and on the cover isn’t what’s on the pages, you’re going to upset and annoy your readers. For example, if I slap a chiseled six-pack of man meat on my book cover with flowy calligraphy for the title that reads something like Sex and Pink Champagne and my summary is all about how protagonist girl gets the adonis of her dreams, you’re not going to be happy if, 200 pages in, the plot detours and Mr. Sexy fucks off to sell NFTs.

It doesn’t meet genre expectations.

GoT kicks off with incest and child defenestration. It tells you *exactly* what you’re getting into immediately. You can subvert plot expectations all you want. You can subvert tropes and archetypes and throw in all kinds of twists and turns. But if you’re writing a YA novel and 100 pages in after campfire songs and the power of friendship, Protagonist gets assaulted in a 7-11 parking lot because you wanted to be ~edgy~ you’re going to piss off your readers.

Take Mulan for example. It has a dramatic tonal shift so powerful, the musical stops being a musical because it’s traumatized. Mulan doesn’t drop in the grizzled and horrifying wasteland of a battlefield with thousands of dead soldiers in an episode of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. It’s already a war movie, the possibility is already there.

If you want to write adult content, then write a book for audiences who are prepared for and want to read adult content. Otherwise you’re setting yourself up for failure.

5. “Okay but it’s not entertaining”

Your first job as an author is to entertain (your second is to do it responsibly imo). There’s millions of books out there—why should someone read yours? Whether that’s entertainment through a feel-good romance or a gut-wrenching tragedy, you need to keep convincing your readers to stay invested in the story, otherwise they can and will put it down to read something else. No one is obligated to read your book to the end.

So, yeah your protagonist might have all the elements of your own personal tragedies and it sure is meaningful to you, but the way you wrote it is incredibly boring and no one will care. It might be the most brilliant heist plot ever conceived, but you focused on all the wrong elements, the pacing is whack, and your protagonist is annoying, so no one will read it.

Very few individual elements can be good enough to carry the entire manuscript and the likelihood of an author being really good at one thing and awful at the rest is slim. Readers can quit a book over the most arbitrary reasons. Do you want to die on a hill of “I’m not changing my annoying protagonist, I’m right and they will see”? They won’t. The arguments authors get into with me over how I hated their protagonist or I told them which parts were boring and dragged because I “didn’t understand the story” are pointless. If it’s boring or confusing or annoying, no one will read it.

6. First Drafts are drafts for a reason

Actually writing is less than half the time and effort spent on getting a book to publication. Probably less than a quarter. The rest of that time is spent editing and rewriting. Some first drafts will be better than others, not arguing that, but your first run through your story has a non-zero chance of needing revisions, even for something as small as typos and punctuation.

You have to edit for pacing and tonal shifts, erroneous details and entire scenes, character inconsistencies and goals. You have to make sure your conversations flow believably, that you hit every talking point that scene requires. You have to make sure your character’s motivations don’t create plot holes and that they’re always on track like a real person and not a creation of your imagination. You have to make sure your action scenes and sex scenes are legible and as thrilling for a reader as they are for you. You have to make sure your worldbuilding is consistent and logical and easy to understand.

Some people outline heavily before starting page one. Some people have a sticky note of “beginning middle end” and run off that. Some have whole folders of different documents to keep track of all their elements. Everyone’s writing process is different, but it is a process, not a one-and-done. It requires revisions, seeking feedback, implementing that feedback, and more revisions until it’s as good as it can be.

Yes, you need to edit. No, you’re not the writing god who penned perfection on your first try. Maybe a piece of your story is perfect on the first draft, but not the whole thing from start to finish. It’s okay that your story isn’t what you thought it would be when you started, and it’s no failing of you as a writer to need edits or even massive changes. It happens to everyone.

7. “Writing is easy, thus it’s not a real job”

Really the notion that creatives are lesser than corporate business people solving problems that their business created. But specifically for writing, the idea that it’s just putting words on a page, thus it’s easy and anyone can do it, so it’s not impressive or deserving of praise and you really need a real job (you probably will because writing doesn’t make much money for most people, but that’s just how it shakes out).

I know ENNS won’t appeal to everyone. I know there will be people who hate my characters, who don’t understand them or don’t agree with their philosophies or find my writing trite and too lean and not ~immersive~. I know there’ll be homophobes out there who won’t even read it but hear about it and make assumptions and will leave me crap reviews. I know it’s not the greatest supernatural fantasy novel ever written.

I’m not in it to make money or get a movie deal and see my merch all over the shelves and get my own theme park. I write so that even one reader might see themselves in my characters and know they’re not alone. So that even one reader has one of my characters as their favorite and that character motivates them to do the Thing or keep moving forward or be brave enough to finally do whatever they’ve been too afraid to attempt before. I want to help people, even if at the end of the day, my writing only helps myself.

Yes I need supplemental income (who doesn’t these days). It’s the way of the world. But I’m doing what I love in my free time and it is a real job because it takes work, and it might not have monetary value but its value to me is priceless.

[aparticularbandit]

Idk if you write yandere but if it is okay. Maybe yandere Claire and reader

Thank u

Rating: M for mature themes.

IDK if this is what you wanted, Nonnie, but I tried.

You first ran into Claire Debella during your junior year of college. Every now and again, a guest speaker would be called on for one of the upper level classes, and you'd come into college with a bunch of early credits, putting you well in range to take that class, even though you shouldn't have been able to take it until senior year. You'd thought, well, it would be nice to hear from people in the actual field more often than not and had set yourself up to take it once your junior year and once your senior year - perhaps more, if you could get your credits to align.

Claire was the first speaker, a Democrat from Connecticut on the campaign trail, stopping to encourage the next generation. To vote, primarily. Especially to vote for her.

Halfway through her speech, she asked a question, something tricky, and while she didn't call on you first, you were the one who had the correct answer. You'd seen it in her eyes then, the glimmer of approval followed by the gentle lift of her lips in the barest hint of a smile that she'd all too quickly suppressed as she continued speaking.

Afterwards, Claire stopped you. "No other student has ever answered that correctly."

"It wasn't hard," you said without thinking. "It follows logic and the patterns of the masses. Any intelligent person should have been able to come up with the answer." You smirked. "Eventually."

Claire gave you a look that you didn't notice and then one that you did, her arms crossing under her chest. "I have an opening on my team."

You glanced up at her. "An internship?"

"Paid."

Your brows raised.

"Experience on the campaign trail will do wonders for you," Claire continued, looking away from you. Or, as you realize later, pretending to do so, not wanting you to catch her at it.

You considered it. You wanted it. But--

"I can't," you said and hating yourself for saying it. "I can't miss that much school--"

"A mentorship, then." Claire's eyes flicked over to you, and as soon as you noticed her gaze, they trailed up to meet your eyes. "Zoom meetings on the trail, in person afterwards. How does that sound?"

You could arrange for that. You could make time. It would help you tremendously in the future, when you started looking for jobs after college, to say you'd been mentored by someone like Claire. Perhaps she would have that opening again next summer and you could be an intern then--

Then you gave her a slight nod. "Sounds good to me."

Claire smiled then, but you didn't notice the darkness in it until much later. "Any intelligent person would have come to that answer eventually." She met your eyes again hungrily. "We'll talk soon."

~

Claire had seemed like a normal mentor. Even more than that, she'd seemed normal over that summer when you did intern for her - and she paid you well above minimum wage, well above maybe what you should have been paid - but that hadn't seemed bad. Or wrong.

Sure, she'd never approved of any of your dates, and usually they broke up with you very, very shortly after being alone with her, but you never put two and two together until later.

Not until after you graduated.

Not until after she gave you a real job.

~

It's an event that maybe you shouldn't have been at.

No, you definitely shouldn't have been there, but Claire invited you. Said you were the best assistant she'd ever had and you deserved to go, so you had. Dressed your best, but still not quite enough to fit in with the other elites around you.

Claire rubbed shoulders with a lot of people given her influence, got invited to a lot of parties. This is just one of them - a birthday party for the not entirely well-esteemed Birdie Jay. Claire assured you she was just an old friend, but you're still not sure.

Still. Standing here among models and fashion elites, you feel...out of place. Like you shouldn't be here.

And it doesn't make you feel any better that Claire is conspicuously not paying you any attention. It's like...like she invited you, but she....

Maybe she hadn't really expected you to come.

So you end up at the open bar, drinking a little too much, feeling like Cinderella might have felt at the ball if she'd stayed past midnight, until one of Claire's other old friends - Jen Barkley, who you'd spent plenty of time with during your internship and who had frequently interrupted your Zoom meetings. Not always with very good reasons.

....

Actually, never with good reason.

If you're honest with yourself, you don't like Jen. But you're drunk, and she's...not quite drunk, actually, but close enough, and if you look at her in just the right light, she almost looks like Claire.

(You will never tell anyone that you find Claire attractive. At least not again. Your old roommate did not approve of your crush. You don't know what happened to her either. She just stopped talking to you after graduation. Which is odd because you'd thought you were really good friends.)

Which is how you end up in one of the hallways off of the main room with Jen's tongue down your throat, and to be honest, she's not that great of a kisser, but she's warm and she's there and you're definitely more than a little bit drunk and--

All of a sudden, Jen stops. You think about asking her why, but then you see the hand on her shoulder and Claire standing behind her with daggers for eyes. It doesn't matter that you're drunk; you swallow hard and find yourself saying, "Sorry, sorry, we shouldn't have," in a slur, avoiding Claire's eyes.

Claire's hand tenses on Jen's shoulder. "Jen, can I talk to you for a minute?" She guides Jen away from you, offers you something that looks halfway between a smile and halfway between bared teeth, and then says, "You should go on home. Drunk isn't a good look on you."

You bite your lower lip and nod.

Except.

You want to apologize to Claire again. You want to know that she isn't going to fire you for being so unprofessional. This might not be a professional event, but Claire invited you, and if you made her look bad, then....

This is why you don't drink at these sorts of things.

So you wait.

And wait.

And wait some more.

And then people start leaving but Claire hasn't shown up again, and you're pretty certain that people can't leave down the hallway where you'd been with Jen, so Claire should be coming back this way. Or should have. And hasn't. Isn't.

Claire's your boss. You should probably go check and make sure she's okay. Not that Jen would do anything to her. Ew, gross, wait, maybe they're together and that's why Jen kept barging in on your Zoom streams while Claire was campaigning. Maybe Claire was mad at Jen because she shouldn't have been making out with you, she should have been with Claire--

All of this you think while you walk down the hallway, checking out every door you find, and then you think you see Claire, so you push open the door and--

Oh.

Oh.

"Claire?"

The room is dark, but you can tell that she's covered in something red and wet and shining, and you're drunk and really hope that isn't blood.

You also hope that isn't a body on the floor in front of her. Really hope that isn't Jen.

Claire turns to you. "You...weren't supposed to see this."

Suddenly, your heart starts beating faster. Claire just killed someone. Claire just killed someone and you walked in on it. Claire is going to kill you.

But before you can make it to the door, Claire is there, a hand on your wrist, and when you open your mouth to scream, she kisses you instead. You still scream, at first, but she muffles you, and then you kind of forget that you're supposed to be screaming because for all that Jen was a bad kisser, Claire is. well. wow. Before you know it, you're kissing her back, and then your hand is in her hair, and then her hair is sticky because blood, and then you're screaming again, but it doesn't last as long this time.

Claire parts just enough to say, "I'm not going to hurt you," and you hate it, but you're drunk, and you believe her. But that doesn't stop your heart from beating fast in your chest. She glares over her shoulder at the body. "Jen knew better than to touch you."

You should ask.

You swallow hard.

You don't ask.

[lovepox]

long time no update! i thought i forgot my tumblr password again but i miraculously remembered it. i'm always so surprised there's people still reblogging stuff i posted years ago here like that's crazy its been literally a decade this year i traveled to portugal, korea, and mexico. i turned 27 and the psychological jump from 26 to 27 is CRAZY like people think you're so old when you say you're 27 but still think you're a baby when you're 26? weird

getting to the age where younger people say DAMN when you say it outloud is so 😭 a very strange experience. seeing fine lines that weren't there last year is a very strange experience.

i also got double eyelid surgery when i was in korea lol but the results are soooo subtle that i'm like damn... i really paid $2k to look the same only other life update is that i now stan a jpop group called psychic fever and am seeing them in concert in february... like i can't believe it........ at this big age.......... i fell back into fandom and i'm exactly where i was when i was 13 SKLDGLSFDGJLSDKGJ whatever stream love fire

to be honest all i did this year was work and i'm pretty sad about that. like looking back at my past yearly updates and realizing not much has changed since i made those is sad! i thought i'd be doing bigger and better things by now. i'm very grateful for all that i have now, but i need to be more intentional with making time to explore my aspirations and plotting my escape from corporate america on a serious level 😭 born to travel and hangout, forced to create decks

i hope when i update next year, i'll have something more exciting to say

here's what i look like now. i don't think i've posted a selfie since i was in college (CRAZY)

bye see you in a year if i don't forget my password again

[a-m-pyra]

First Burn: Ch8 The Great Comeback (American McGee's Alice/Lies of P)

A/N: Sorry guys for lack of chapters. My move from my house to a dorm was such an exhausting experience.

Mr. Mitchell arrived in the afternoon in great humor. He greeted P and Otto with a handshake and asked where Mrs. Seymour was. Otto told him with a smile to look for her in his office.

He went upstairs and entered the office, finding Alex sitting on the windowsill by the open window. He sat down next to her, took out a cigarette case and took out a match and a cigarette.

“Ah, our happy, college days,” he said, taking a lit cigarette between his fingers, and Alex looked at him reproachingly. “What's bothering you?”

She pointed to the desk. Jacob walked over and took the letter. 

“So what? Winters Junior is throwing a party and he invited me too. Remember the party we had at the summer ball in '62? Then Winters Senior was throwing this ball.”

“I can't go.” She pursed her lips. “And Alice asked me to play in her musical.”

“Whom? Victoria?” He grinned and Alex nodded. “So what?”

“I haven't answered her yet. I have an orphanage to look after, these children need me, I can't leave for a few hours to rehearse. Or go to balls and come back, who knows when.”

“Are you doing this because you still feel you have obligations to Lilibeth, Alice and the kids?”

“No.”

“Of course you are.” He leaned against the desk and inhaled. “But you know you don't owe them anything? And even if. Alex, you paid off your obligations a long time ago. You took care of Alice, raised her, saved her and the children. You helped them all get over their traumas and start relatively normal lives. You're not tied to an orphanage twenty-four hours a day. There is also Nan, who has long recognized herself as the kids' grandmother and is ready to take care of them for a few hours or put them to bed.”

“I don't know. I just don't know.”

He sighed. He reached for the ashtray to put down his cigarette and walked over to her.

“With this role, do what you want. But I won't miss the ball for you. I'm going to drag half the banquet to some small living room and throw the best party there in over sixteen years.”

She smiled slightly, extinguished the cigarette and threw it out the window. 

“It won't be the same without you.”

She snorted and grabbed his hand.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” He ruffled her hair. “Talk to Nan. I'm sure she'll agree to be a nanny. You pay her a few pounds on top of her salary and she'll be fine.” 

She laughed, shaking her head in amusement.

Alice greeted everyone and immediately took P from the living room to his room to talk to him. P raised an eyebrow, but grabbed her hand and followed her, completely confused. He watched her and how she acted. She seemed excited, but strangely nervous. As she stood in front of him and pulled the letter from her leather bag, she began to play nervously with it. 

“Are you doing anything on Friday in two weeks?”

Stupid question, she thought — but she wanted to start this conversation somehow. P looked at her, raising an eyebrow. Alice appreciated how his facial expressions began to vary as he began to develop humanity.

“No. I don't think so.”

“Oh. That's good! Very good, because…” She pursed her lips and handed him the letter.

He looked at her questioningly. Alice watched as P opened it and noticed it was a party invitation. 

“Were you invited to the ball?”

She nodded with a gentle smile on her lips.

“With an accompanying person.” She pointed to the note under her name and surname. “And so I thought… Maybe you would like to come with me?”

P felt hot. He scratched his cheek, scanning Alice's face.

“And?”

“You don't have to if you don't want to. I think I could find someone to go with me. However…” She trailed off, noticing that he was smiling at her. 

He thought about what Gemini would suggest to him. Perhaps it would give him an idea to smile. Maybe he took her hand and shook it. Or maybe…

He pursed his lips and grabbed her hand. 

“I'd love to go out with you.”

She opened her mouth and smiled widely, unable to believe what she was hearing.

She was ashamed to admit it — they had only known each other for two months — but she really wanted him to agree. She wanted to show him Winters' lavish parties — both Senior and Junior were known for them; and since she managed to regain her good name, she was invited to every party.

She wondered if Alex had gotten an invitation too. It would be a safe option — she could even go alone if Alex was going as a guest. However, unsure, she preferred to take someone she knew with her.

“Thank you.” She couldn't help but feel P's thumb lightly brush the back of her hand. “You don't even realize how much this means to me.”

“Thank you for inviting me.” He kissed her knuckles, and Alice tried to hold back the giggle that tried to escape her lips. 

However, she realized that she couldn't stop the blush that showed on her face.

P tilted his head and gave her a soft smile. He had been doing this for a while, as if he was intrigued as to where her reaction was coming from. After staring at her face for a moment, he wrote down when and what time the ball was scheduled. 

Alice was overjoyed. 

Otto, who was standing behind the wall with Gemini and Charlie, listening in the conversation, exchanged glances with Charlie.

“I feel something coming,” Gemini whispered.

“Do you think she immediately thought of him?” Charlie asked.

“For sure,” Otto confirmed. 

They both stood at attention as Alice and P left the room. Trying to pretend that they didn't know anything and that the three of them ended up here by complete accident was in vain. Neither of them — neither Alice nor P — said something. Only Alice scolded them with a look and went with P to the first floor. 

“Immediately,” they said at the same moment.

Alice seemed too happy to let P be the second option. 

“I'm giving them time until May at most,” Charlie said. 

Otto nodded and Gemini chirped in agreement.

Alice knocked gently on Alex's office door. She heard a quiet invitation to come in, and then saw Alex sitting on the desk.

Alice was used to Alex sitting on her desk when she was stressed; otherwise she sat in an armchair or chaise longue — next to patients, in a chair at a desk.

She sat down on the armrest of the chair and looked at her meaningfully.

“Remember our conversation about the role?”

Alice felt herself getting cold. She couldn't imagine anyone being a better fit than her. She didn't even have much of an idea who could play this role. P's disagreement wouldn't be as painful as Alex's — maybe she could find an actor without too many problems. She had no problems with Victoria Creswell's brother, her sister, Lucien Durand or Napoléon Bonaparte.

The biggest problems were key characters — Carmina Dewberry and Victoria Creswell. A journeywoman and her Grand Mistress, close to each other like daughter and mother. 

“I remember,” she replied carefully.

“I've thought about it.”

Alice felt the blood drain from her face.

“And? What do you think about it?”

She saw Alex holding something in her hand. She noticed a yellow-orange glow. Citrine — supposedly a reliable support in times of stress.

They were both stressed exactly the same.

“I talked to Jacob and Nan… I've thought about this whole thing.” She pursed her lips, trying to gather her thoughts. Alice gave her time to do this. “I agree.”

Alice's lips parted. She didn't say anything — instead, she stood up and hugged her, completely unable to believe what she was hearing.

Alex laughed. She stroked her back, then moved away to gently fix her hair.

“Did I tell you that you are the best…” Alice trailed off. The word mom still refused to leave her mouth. After everything she had done for her, after adopting her.

She saw a slight sadness on Alex's face, but she quickly hid it under a smile — also a sad one.

“You don't have to say it. Thank you."

Even though Alex was terribly saddened by Alice's hesitation, she didn't show it.

“Anyway.” She sighed. “Winters asked you to the prom too?”

Alex nodded.

“And I'm even going for it.”

“It can't be. You?”

“Don't forget who threw the party of the decade at the Senior’s banquet.” She booped her nose gently. “I figured Jacob and Nan were right. I should leave the orphanage. Start playing again, singing, attending social gatherings.”

“The old Coral is back. The one from the Sabbaths and…”

They both knew what she wanted to say.

“Yes. This one too.”

Alice pursed her lips, wondering if she should say it.

“There's something else.”

“Is it?”

She smiled, nodding her head.

“P agreed to come with me.”

She had never seen such joy on someone's face as Alex's at that moment — and she hated why.

“So my cards were right.”

Alice snorted in disbelief. She didn't protest, however, when Alex hugged her tightly and kissed her temple — her reaction mirrored Alice's happiness that was bursting in her chest.

[your-queer-dad]

Hi, uh dad? I guess? That feels weird, I’m 24 and calling someone I don’t know dad.

Idk, it feels odd to say that or any of this because objectively I’m doing pretty great.

I am not in any debt, i fully own my own car, i have a pretty good amount of savings and nice credit, I’m enrolled in college and up until a couple months ago I had a full time job that paid pretty well (I quit to do an internship for experience)

But I just feel so far behind everybody else. I had to put off college for 5 years to work because my family was in some really bad financial straits, we still aren’t good but it’s better now. A lot of my old classmates are getting married, graduating college, my sister was married and bought a house at my age, and I…

I couldn’t even afford an apartment when I had the good job, my last partner left me because family and god was more important than me/ being gay is haram, and I can’t get a date for the life of me anymore, my closest friend barely even speaks to me anymore, I failed a couple classes last semester, and all this politics stuff (US and around the world in general) makes me want to cry constantly.

I guess what I want to ask is, how do I catch up? How do I feel like I’m actually being successful and doing a good job?

I’d ask a therapist or something but my insurance was tied to my employment and govt stuff has like a year long waiting list.

Hey kiddo, I completely understand the feeling and I think it's a very common feeling at your age. You're constantly being sold the idea that you have to have everything together all at once. But you're 24! Just think for a second how little time that is in your lifetime. Say you live until at least 80, that's 40% of your life. You have 60% of your life still to live! You've gotten so far kiddo, those are some huge achievements and that's amazing. Don't discredit that kiddo just because someone else is ahead of you.

- dad x

[red-dye40]

iunno if you're still doing the directors cut thing but -> 💫

yes! always until the end of time because i love to talk!

here’s some commentary for ancaux chapter 9:

“You can get started on his limbs. I recommend below the joints for first-timers; it won’t be as clean but it’ll be easier, and you can take breaks between the ulna and the radius–” he points, with the tip of the machete, to the forearms, “–and the tibia and fibula–” he points, next, to the calves, “–if it gets too tough.”

i do think that, as an active homicidal maniac, nny had his own stupid names for bones, since i don’t imagine he was ever a serial killer who like studied the human form??? i think he just kinda learned as he went along and never opened a book on anatomy in his life. because the body is disgusting to him. HOWEVER i have this idea that, in this au where he gets help and treatment, he still obviously has his natural curiosity and lust for killin, and so sometimes he’ll like check out a bunch of anatomy and biology books from the library to quell his ~urges~, and maybe a more sterile and clinical approach will make him less inclined to act on anything. nerd.

Without a head, with his limbs all twisted to fit more securely in the fridge, with his bizarrely expensive but otherwise unimpressive clothes soaked in dried blood, he doesn’t look much like a person anymore. He looks kind of pathetic, definitely more than a little silly.

i spent my late teens / early 20s exclusively around art students because my sister was a fine arts major and i didn’t go to college so i had no friends otherwise :) her like closest friends were this group of extremely rich kids posing as poor kids and it was so bizarre to experience. they only dressed in ratty clothes but upon further investigation they were actually like one-of-one designer pieces that cost hundreds of dollars and crazy shit like that, and they only ate cigarettes and shitty shitty beer. i went to a party at one of their apartments once and it was inside this like seemingly derelict warehouse, but when we got in it turned out the whole place had been gut-renovated, and he lived in a lofted penthouse with roof access, and everyone there was like smoking weed and giving each other the shittiest tattoos ive ever seen, and i found out his dad paid for his rent and the nelson mandela tattoo thing i mention in later chapters? is based on a Real Thing i saw with my eyes at this party.

“Rigor mortis only lasts like a day.” He plops another finger chunk in a trashbag. “After that, they get all gooshy again.” “I didn’t know that.” “We actually got in at the perfect time!” Johnny continues gratefully. “The window between rigor mortis and true decomposition is small, if nonexistent. Both are extremely unpleasant in their own ways, obviously, but I personally detest the smell of putrefaction. And house flies are annoying.” He wipes a gory gloved hand across the front of his poncho. “So this is really ideal.”

HYPERFIXATION!!!!!! SPECIAL INTEREST IS DEATH AND DECAY!

“The little junkyard doggies love this stuff.” He shakes the contractor bag–its contents make vile, macaroni and cheese-type squishing sounds. “I toss them out my window when I drive by, and they maul each other to try and get to ‘em. It’s so cute.”

i love the little glimpses of weird things nny finds cute that we get in jthm and on the johnny c twitter. i want more of that.

“Does your trunk open with the key, or is there one of those secret buttons somewhere in the front I have to press?” “Oh, the trunk doesn’t open.” Devi freezes in the doorway. She digs her nails into the frame. Slowly, in her comedically loud poncho, she turns to look Nny in his dumb face. “...the trunk doesn’t open… at all?”“Nooooooo, I made a bunch of oobleck for the neighbor kid–I was going to teach him a valuable lesson about the dangers of quicksand and quicksand-adjacent colloids–but then I forgot about it in my trunk during a week-long heat wave and it all kind of exploded.” “And so the trunk doesn’t open.” “Nope.” Johnny finally understands the problem. “Oh damn.” “Yeah, Nny.” Devi grits her teeth. “Yeah, ‘oh damn.’”

SQUEE MENTION 🗣️🗣️🗣️ i think this is one of my fav exchanges in the whole fic. i love for nny to be a huge idiot. i love devi to want to kill him for being a huge idiot.

“If I let you drive, you’re gonna play some fuckin’ irritating classical music you downloaded from LimeWire, and you’re gonna stop at every Cum-N-Go for some cherry flavored swill, and then you’re gonna need to go pee-pees every twenty minutes, and I really really REALLY don’t have the patience for any of that right now, Jonathan.”

this is funny because johnny’s name is most certainly not jonathan. devi knows this.

“If I recall correctly, you slaughtered an entire movie theater’s worth of people when The Fifth Element didn’t meet your IMPOSSIBLY HIGH EXPECTATIONS?? YES?” “IT HAD SO MUCH POTENTIAL!” “GARY OLDMAN LOOKED LIKE A PERVERTED BUSINESSMAN WHO GOT BORED HALFWAY THROUGH PUTTING ON A MARILYN MANSON COSTUME AND THAT WAS ON THE POSTER–YOU SHOULD HAVE KNOWN WHAT YOU WERE GETTING YOURSELF INTO!”

this is a little reference to jv’s diary kept during the 1997 roadkill!! tour, in which they see the fifth element and he’s simply underwhelmed. i love the idea of nny getting his hopes up so high for movies and then going completely insane when they’re just whatever. for the record i love the fifth element.

As the car lurches from the inertia of the stop, the twine around the roof of the car groans, and then snaps completely, and with a loud thump the body slides out of the tarp and onto the hood, and its pallid bare ass is pressed up against the windshield. Devi reaches for the gear shift, taps the wipers on the way, and now the ass is doing a weird sexy dance for the two of them as the blades push it back and forth. They’re still screaming. Devi finally shifts it into reverse and turns over the seat to back up–Nny can’t look away from the ass. She floors it. The body goes flying, all rubbery and floppy and veiny and sexy, and the car keeps backing up until it eventually collides with the ceramic squirrel riding a tractor.

i had the idea of nny and devi having to dump the body really early on in writing. LOVE the trope of ppl needing to get rid of a body in a funny way. i didn’t have a plan, i just liked the insurance policy thing, like of nny being really concerned about obeying traffic laws and not wanting to get any demerits (idk i don’t drive) and devi being like “what the fuck you’re literally a mass murderer” and i REALLY wanted all this to feel stupid and not like. idk a bummer in any way. i definitely took a lot of inspo from the scene in search party season 2 (SPOILERS), where they go to the store to find a suitcase for a body and a guy convinces them to buy a really gaudy zebra print one. just weird absurdity stupidity etc.

thank u for the ask sorry this took SO LONG ily PLATONIC!!!!!