#like i started working on it friday i think

[alygator77]

༻behind the screen༺

♡ pairing. gojo x fem! reader (au you're coworkers)

♡ summary. when a late-night swipe on an anonymous dating app leads to a sultry phone call, you think it’s the perfect way to escape your work stress—especially your infuriatingly smug coworker Gojo Satoru. but when the man on the other end starts sounding eerily familiar, secrets slip out.

♡ contents. 18+ MDNI, smut, phone sex, mutual masturbation, praise kink, dirty talk, satoru is pining over you.

♡ wc. 3k

♡ a/n this was a request! it became longer than i anticipated hehe. but i had fun writing it nonetheless 💕

Gojo Satoru was used to being in control. Whether it was at work, in social settings, or just walking into a room, he was the guy who turned heads, the one who made people laugh, the one everyone gravitated toward.

Confidence was his currency, and he spent it lavishly. But around you? His brain seemed to malfunction entirely.

It was infuriating, really. He could charm anyone with a single smile, yet you—you—barely spared him a glance. And when you did, it was usually accompanied by a glare sharp enough to cut glass.

But you didn’t hate Gojo Satoru—hate was too strong a word for someone as maddeningly smug as him.

What you felt for him was more akin to the annoyance of stepping in gum on a hot summer day or spilling coffee on your favorite blouse. He was a constant presence in your life, always hovering with his stupidly perfect grin and those ridiculous quips that made your eye twitch.

And yet, to him, you were an enigma. You didn’t fall for his charm, his playful teasing, or his self-proclaimed ‘devastatingly good looks,’ and that made you a puzzle he was desperate to solve.

At first, he chalked it up to frustration. No one had ever resisted him the way you did, and it had to be a fluke. Then, the realization hit him like a freight train: he didn’t just want your attention—he wanted you.

It was a big, messy crush, and he had no idea what to do about it. Gojo Satoru didn’t pine, for god’s sake. So, he acted indifferent.

Unfortunately, his strategy was… suboptimal.

Relentless teasing. Sarcastic remarks. Even the occasional ‘accidental’ brush of his hand against yours. None of it worked. Instead of pulling you closer, it only seemed to cement your belief that he was a certified pain in the ass.

Case in point: last Friday in the break room.

“Still no boyfriend, huh?” he’d asked with a smirk, leaning casually against the door frame as if he hadn’t been plotting that line all day. “Guess guys just don’t appreciate all that… sarcasm. Or is it the constant glaring?”

The flash of irritation in your eyes was immediate and searing. He regretted it the moment the words left his mouth, but instead of apologizing, he doubled down with a cocky grin. That was his defense mechanism—smugness as a shield.

You didn’t even bother to dignify him with a response. You stormed off, brushing his shoulder while your heels clicked against the floor as he stood there, internally kicking himself.

Now, as you lay in bed on a random Tuesday night, those words played on repeat in your head. It wasn’t because they hurt—of course not. But they lingered, burrowing into your thoughts like an itch you couldn’t scratch.

Was that cocky ass, right? No… you could get a boyfriend… if you wanted to.

The thought made you scowl, your finger aimlessly scrolling through your phone as the glow of the screen illuminated your face.

“God, who cares what he thinks…” you groan, tossing your phone aside. But the moment you did, it buzzed, and the glow of an ad caught your attention.

A dating app. Anonymous. Discreet. Perfect for someone who wanted validation… without the strings.

“Why not?” you mutter, tapping the download button.

You didn’t expect much. Maybe a few shallow conversations, something to pass the time and make you feel less… undesirable.

Fuck it.

༻♡༺

Gojo Satoru slouched on his couch, one arm draped lazily over the backrest while his other hand flicked mindlessly through his phone.

The TV was on, some senseless drama he couldn’t care less about playing in the background. It was just noise, really—something to drown out the thoughts he didn’t want to entertain. Thoughts of you.

“You’re sulking,” Suguru’s voice cut through the haze, casual and smug as always. Satoru barely looked up as his best friend wandered in from the kitchen, a beer in hand.

“I don’t sulk,” his thumb swipes with more force than necessary, and the pout tugging at his lips, said otherwise.

Suguru snorted, plopping down beside him and cracking his beer open.

“Sure,” he said, leisurely taking a sip. “So, what’s your deal this time? Another tragic failure to get her attention?”

Satoru’s eyes flick up to glare at his friend, but the effect was less menacing and more petulant. He looks back at his phone, refusing to dignify that with a response. Still, his pout said everything Suguru needed to know.

“It wasn’t a failed attempt…” he grumbles after a moment. “She reacts… just… the wrong way…”

Suguru’s brow arches is amusement as he takes another sip of his beer.

“Lemme guess… she glared at you. Again.”

Satoru was silent, staring at his phone like it might provide him with a more dignified answer, but eventually, the admission slipped out, quiet and begrudging.

“Her glare is cute…”

Suguru doesn’t miss the soft pink dusting Satoru’s cheeks, and his eyes roll so hard it’s a miracle they don’t fall out of his head. He sets his beer down with a sigh, leaning back to rest an arm along the back of the couch.

“You’ve got it bad, man. Just confess already.”

“I can’t,” Satoru’s sigh is so dramatic it could’ve won him an award. He drops his phone onto his chest, staring up at the ceiling like it holds the secrets of the universe. “She totally hates me.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Suguru counters. “She just thinks you’re an idiot, which—let’s be real—you kinda are.”

“Wow. Thanks,” Satoru said flatly. “Your support is truly heartwarming.”

Suguru shrugs, unbothered as always. He grabs his beer and takes another sip, eyeing Satoru like he’s both a lost cause and an endless source of entertainment.

“Y’know what your problem is?”

“Oh, please. Enlighten me,” Satoru stretches his legs out on the coffee table.

Suguru sets his can back down with a decisive clink.

“You overthink things with this girl. Maybe you need a distraction. You oughta download one of those dating apps everyone’s obsessed with. Blow off some steam.”

“A dating app?” Satoru’s nose scrunches in disgust, like Suguru had suggested he take up competitive bird watching or something.

Suguru, unperturbed, reaches over and snatches the phone off Satoru’s chest with zero hesitation. “Yep,” his fingers fly over the screen. “You’re clearly incapable of doing this on your own, so I’m doing it for you.”

“Wait, what—”

“There.” Suguru shoves the phone back into Satoru’s hands, grinning like a man who’d just solved world hunger. “All set.”

༻♡༺

That was how Satoru found himself lying in bed, staring at the app now loaded onto his phone—the bright interface practically mocking him.

A dating app? Seriously?

He was Gojo fucking Satoru. He didn’t need help in that department—if anything, people practically threw themselves at him.

And yet, here he was, thumb hovering over the ‘Get Started’ button like it was some kind of nuclear launch code.

“This is so dumb…” he mutters to himself, running a hand through his snow-white hair. But the alternative—sitting here alone and thinking about you—was worse. Much worse.

With a resigned sigh, he taps the button. The setup was painless enough, and he will admit that the app’s anonymity piqued his interest. No names, no faces, no preconceived notions—just bios and conversation. A refreshing change from his usual routine.

But once he started swiping, reality set in.

The profiles were… bland. Painfully so. If he had to read one more line about someone who ‘loves hiking and tacos,’ he was going to throw his phone across the room. Plus, the conversations he’d had were dull at best and unbearable at worst. Small talk wasn’t his thing, and most people just couldn’t seem to keep up with his wit.

Satoru was about five minutes away from deleting the app when your profile popped up. It was short, clever, and witty—his kind of humor. Intrigued, he swiped right and shot you a message.

Hours slipped away like water through his fingers. The conversation flowed so easily it was almost surreal. You didn’t tiptoe around him or try to impress him—you met his sarcasm with your own, and every jab you threw only made him want to know more.

The two of you talked about everything—movies, terrible music recommendations, the absurdity of office politics. The way you called out corporate nonsense had him laughing so hard he had to put the phone down to catch his breath. He couldn’t remember the last time someone made him laugh like that.

God—you were funny, sharp, and quick on your feet in a way that reminded him of—

Nah…

It wasn’t you. It couldn’t be. The universe wasn’t that cruel—or that kind.

He groans, tossing his phone onto the bed and rubbing a hand over his face. His mind was betraying him again, spiraling back to you like it always does.

‘You need a distraction. Blow off some steam.’

Maybe Suguru was right. Maybe he needed a distraction. Something—anything���to get you out of his head.

As his phone buzzes with a new message, his gaze drifts back to the screen.

still there, or did I scare you off?

A slow grin spreads across his face. Whatever. Whoever you were, you had his attention. For tonight, that was enough.

Still here. Hey, can I be honest for a sec?

mmm… depends. how honest?

He smirked, typing quickly.

Well, tbh I’ve been having a tough time. Got it bad for this coworker. Total knockout, but I’m pretty sure she thinks I’m an idiot.

He hits send before he can talk himself out of it, watching the little ‘delivered’ icon appear. Your reply comes after a brief pause.

yikes… sounds complicated.

He chuckles, already typing again.

You have no idea... anyway, I figured I could use a distraction. And if I’m gonna distract myself, I’d rather do it with someone who can actually keep my interest.

There was a beat of hesitation, and then he boldly added:

Wanna have phone sex?

This time, the pause stretched longer. Long enough for him to wonder if he’d blown it. But then, his phone buzzes again.

fuck it... why not?

Grinning like a kid on Christmas morning, he hit the call button through the app. The line rang once, twice, before clicking.

“Hi…” your voice greeted him softly.

“Hey princess,” he drawled. “Thought I might’ve scared you off.”

“Oh… no,” you said, a soft laugh escaping you. “But I will admit, you’re straight to the point, aren’t you?”

“Always.” He leans back further, his free hand trailing lazily over his stomach. “Why waste time, right? Life’s too short for tiptoeing around.”

Ironic, considering how he seemed to do nothing but tiptoe around you—his coworker—at work. You—who always had him second-guessing himself in ways no one else ever could.

However, this wasn’t about you. This was a stranger—right? A voice on the other end of the line. That was all.

But as you laugh through the phone, he closes his eyes, letting the sound settle over him. It was nice… and familiar. Too familiar.

No.

He was imagining things. Again. His brain was playing tricks on him, twisting your voice into something it wasn’t. There was no way it was you.

“So,” he said, steering the conversation back on track. “You’ve done this before?”

“Not really,” you admit, voice dipping slightly. “Actually… no. Honestly, I haven’t. This is my first time.”

His grin widens—the cocky edge returning to his tone.

“First time, huh? Well, you’re in luck. I’m an excellent teacher.”

You let out another soft laugh, nervous but sweet, and it sends a jolt of heat straight through him. What the hell is wrong with him tonight? Your voice—soft, familiar—it feels like a melody he’s heard before.

“Is that so?” you ask, breaking his train of thought.

“Hmm? Oh… absolutely,” he said, shaking his head with a smirk. His fingers drummed against his thigh as he forced himself to focus. “Just relax, princess. Let me guide you.”

“…okay,” you whisper.

He exhales slowly, letting the tension drain from his shoulders as he shifts lower on the bed.

“Now… are you laying in your bed for me?”

“mhmm…” you hum softly.

“Mm, good girl,” he murmurs. “Alright, tell me—what are you wearing?”

“Just… an oversized shirt,” the hesitation in your voice makes him grin. “Nothing else.”

“Yeah?” his hand trails down to the waistband of his sweatpants as he closes his eyes. “That’s perfect. Makes it easy to imagine my hands slipping underneath, right up to that pretty pussy of yours...”

Your sharp inhale crackles through the receiver, and the sound sends a thrill straight to his cock.

“Do something for me,” he begins palming his growing bulge. “Run your hands down your thighs… nice and slow. Tease yourself the way I would.”

There was a beat of silence, and he held his breath, waiting. Then, he heard it—a faint shift in your breathing, followed by a soft, shaky exhale. It was subtle, but it was enough to tell him you were doing exactly as he asked.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, his own hand slipping beneath his waistband to wrap around his cock. It twitched eagerly in his palm, already hard and aching as he imagines you following his instructions.

“…you touching yourself, sweetheart?”

“Y-yeah.”

The word trembles on your lips like a secret only he’s allowed to hear, and his grip tightens on his cock as he begins to stroke himself slowly—matching the rhythm he imagines your hand moving in.

“Good girl,” he purrs, the sheets rustling beneath him as his hand glides across his length. “Now slide your fingers inside that tight little cunt… nice and slow.”

Your soft moan spills through the line, and his hips buck involuntarily at the sound—his hand moving faster.

“Fuck… love hearing those pretty little sounds” he groans as his thumb swipes over his tip, slick with pre-cum. “How many fingers are you using?”

“Two,” you gasp as the word breaks into a moan.

“Add another,” he commands, almost a growl.

You hesitate for just a moment, but then your breathy whimper crackles through the line, and he hisses through clenched teeth, his dick twitching eagerly at the sound. But somehow, without meaning to, his imagination betrays him.

He pictures you—his coworker. Fuck, why couldn’t he stop thinking about you?

You—head tipped back; lips parted as your fingers work you open—his cock throbbed eagerly at the mental image.

Fuck… this was supposed to be a distraction, not fuel for his already out-of-control infatuation. He groaned, annoyed at himself but powerless to stop, and his strokes grew faster, more desperate as he surrendered to the fantasy.

“Haa… that’s my girl,” he praises, eyes fluttering shut as his hips buck into his hand desperately. “Stretch yourself for me. Make yourself nice and ready for my cock… nngh… wanna fucking fill you up, princess. Make you take every inch.”

Your soft, choked moan crackles through the phone, and it unravels him further. His strokes grow faster, more erratic—his free hand gripping the sheets as he chases his release.

“Bet you’d look so pretty,” his hand becomes a frantic blur as he loses himself to his fantasy. “All spread out and dripping for me. Taking my cock like a good girl… haaa… gonna fucking stuff you full as you cum all over m’ dick.”

“Fuck… m’ cumming,” you gasp, and as your broken cry crackles through the receiver, it sends him careening over the edge.

“Fuck… yes, good fucking girl… haaa—m’ cumming too.”

He pumps his cock, hips jerking as thick, hot streams of cum spill over his hand and onto the sheets below. His breath hitches in his throat, and before he can stop himself, your name rips from his lips, raw and guttural, a desperate cry he couldn’t contain.

Through the phone, your own gasping breaths mingle with his—the faint sound of your release trembling through the line. Then, for a brief moment, the world was quiet, save for the shared rhythm of your breathing as the two of you come down from the high.

Until, reality set in.

Fuck.

He blinked up at the ceiling, his free hand raking through his hair as his brain scrambled to process what just happened.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He felt like a goddamn asshole. He’d just moaned someone else’s name—your name—while he was supposed to be with someone else.

What the hell was wrong with him?

But then, you laughed—a soft, breathless sound that broke through his spiraling thoughts.

“That was… fun,” you said warmly, slightly teasing. “But, um… how do you know my name?”

His stomach dropped.

“I… what?” his voice cracked slightly as panic clawed its way up his throat.

“You said my name,” you reply, a curious lilt to your tone now. “I don’t remember telling you my name. And, you know, the app is supposed to be anonymous…”

It hit him all at once.

The voice that had been haunting him, the one that felt so painfully familiar, the one he’d convinced himself couldn’t possibly be yours—it was yours.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, his heart pounding in his chest as realization washed over him.

“Wait…” your tone shifts from amused to sharp. “You sound familiar. Like… Gojo?”

His stomach flips, dread pooling in his chest like ice water.

“Uh…” He froze, his mind scrambling for something, anything, that could salvage this disaster. “…hi, princess?” His tone was a weak attempt at his usual cocky charm—it fell flat. “Didn’t expect to find you on this app…”

There was a beat of silence, and then, like the idiot he was, his mouth moved faster than his brain.

“Sooo… still no boyfriend then, huh?”

[cybrasigilism]

She’s Like Morphine (Player 380 x F!Reader)

content warnings: smut | winners love winning | fingering | cunnilingus | not proofread! | out of game AU | punk rocker! semi x f!reader

character: se-mi (player 380)

A/N: this was requested to me through my messages! i was already planning on writing for se-mi so it works out perfectly :) hope you guys enjoy!

thanks to @elixk1tten for the request!

MDNI! 18+ content ahead, reader discretion is advised

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

it was supposed to be a typical friday-night gig. the same old routine. se-mi had grown accustomed to seeing a pretty girl out in the crowd every now and then, but this time, this time it was different. she felt totally unprofessional because for the first time in her whole career of being a punk musician, she couldn’t take her eyes off of one person in the crowd in this dingy little dive bar…

and of course that person, was you.

you had caught se-mi’s eye from the moment she clocked you in the crowd after performing the first song. she no longer felt like she was performing just for the sake of it as usual in that moment, but she felt as though she had to impress you, specifically. like she was singing for you. she knew that she just had to get to you after the performance was done.

after the crowd of regulars dispersed from asking for photos and autographs with se-mi, she kept her eyes peeled for you amongst the many bar patrons. to many this would seem futile, as this dive bar was completely packed. but she had practically memorized your face the moment she got a good look at you out in the crowd. she had hoped that maybe you had stuck around, so she could have a chance to put a name to the face that stunned her.

lucky for her, you had indeed chosen to stick around. se-mi wasn’t the only one who was mystified with the person she saw that night, as that was exactly how you felt when she walked up to centre stage. you felt your cheeks grow hot when she looked at you, and you could tell she was looking right at you, it wasn’t a coincidence. you pretended not to notice as se-mi approached you, nervously trying to act as though you were staring into your drink and definitely not thinking the wholly inappropriate thoughts that you definitely were.

“so, did you enjoy the show?” she chuckled, causing you to jump in your seat a bit, you turned around swiftly and realized just how closely she was actually standing next to you. you stared blankly for a moment, trying to compose yourself, before she cocked her head and asked “you alright?”

“yeah! yeah, i’m okay.” you laughed nervously, fiddling with the hem of your shirt as you tried your best not to make too much eye contact. “yeah, i really loved the show.” se-mi smiled, and proceeded to ask if she could sit down, to which you quickly accepted. why wouldn’t you?

“what’s your name?” my, she was rather quick to start getting to know you, wasn’t she. you were so used to people trying to hit on you without at least getting your name first that her formality shocked you. “my name?” you echoed, earning another snicker from se-mi. “what, did you forget your own name or something?” she teased, you could feel your cheeks warm up again with embarrassment. “i’m sorry, it’s (Y/N).” you apologized, bowing your head slightly. “don’t do that, you don’t have anything to apologize for.” she said reassuringly. “i guess you’re used to assholes just coming onto you without a proper introduction, huh.”

you were dumbfounded by how well she was reading you, it’s not exactly like you had a poker face by any means but her accuracy was astounding. “how did you guess?” you rolled your eyes jokingly, taking a sip of your drink. se-mi looked you up and down before blatantly saying “well it’s pretty obvious given how gorgeous you are, i’m sure you’ve got fools tripping over themselves for you all the time.” you chuckled a bit, before tucking your hair behind your ear (a classic move i know), and thanking her. “you know, i don’t usually do this… but i was thinking something.” she started, leaning in a bit so you could hear her better. “how about you come backstage? i’d love to get to know you better, y’know, one on one.” she placed her hand on your thigh at saying the last bit, causing your temperature to spike tenfold, you were positive.

“really?” you stammered, trying not to explode at the contact she just closed between you two. “are you…are you even allowed to have me back there? i don’t have a backstage pass..” se-mi giggled and looked out into the crowd. “yeah usually that would be a problem,” she looked back at you, once more giving you the up-down, “but i think i can make an exception for you.”

⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰

of all the things you expected to happen tonight, being underneath a super hot, punk rocker with her knee between your legs was the very last thing you could have thought. it was a surprise you could even focus on thinking about how you got to this point when you had se-mi marking up your neck, biting softly every once and again. your eyes were practically glazed over as she slid her ringed hands up your shirt and beneath your bra, fingers playing with your nipples. you cried out at the cold sensation of her fingers over your breasts but at the same time you’ve never felt so good. she released herself from your neck and smirked down at you.

“you feeling good?” se-mi asked almost smugly as she toyed with the buttons on your shirt, attempting to break through to what she wanted underneath. you shook your head, barely being able to formulate a sentence before she pressed her knee into your crotch. “i’m gonna need words, baby.” something about her voice just drove you insane, as if in a trance you responded almost instantly. “god, yes.” you moaned out, grabbing at her shirt and pulling her in for a kiss. you could feel se-mi chuckle against your lips, before pulling back and taking off her own shirt. you don’t know why but the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra underneath shocked you, but what she was about to do would shock you even further.

se-mi kissed down your torso all the way to the zipper of your jeans, to which she looked up at you as if waiting for an “okay”, which you gave. she then took the zipper in between her teeth and pulled all the way down, looking up at you all the while. you felt your core heat up as she unbuttoned your jeans and pulled them off, revealing a black, lacy pair of panties. she looked up at you with a smirk and a raised brow. “you were so hoping something like this would happen, weren’t you?” se-mi snickered. you blushed and turned away, but she only laughed before affixing your leg above her shoulder. “no fault there, i’m not about to judge someone for being prepared.”

you squeezed your eyes shut, too nervous to maintain eye contact as she pulled your panties to the side to reveal just how soaked she had gotten you. “shit, how quickly did you get like this?” she asked, practically forcing you to open your eyes. “i..um..” you were well beyond the point of speaking a full sentence now. “i dunno… just need you.” se-mi could feel how desperate you were for her, hell the evidence was literally right in front of her face, and she decided to get a taste of just exactly how much you needed her.

your back forcibly arched as she licked up your pussy, you could tell she wanted to take her time with you and god, you hoped she did. she drew moans and whimpers from you as she sucked on your clit, moaning while she did so herself. you took a handful of her black hair in your hand when she eventually inserted two fingers into your hole, still sucking and licking and your clit. her motions were slow and deliberate, she wanted you to feel every thrust as she pumped her fingers in and out of you.

“ ‘s too- too much.. ‘m gonna.. ‘m gonna…” you managed to utter through your whines, she released herself from your clit, fingers still working your pussy. “you’re gonna what, sweetheart?” she taunted, her motions growing quicker as tears formed in your eyes. “‘m so close, p—lease!” you cry out. feeling your walls clench around her fingers, she could definitely tell. “you’re gonna cum?” se-mi repeated, growing breathy herself. “yeah? then do it. cum for me.” she ordered, going back to sucking and licking your clit. you were practically seeing stars at this point, thoughts and sense be damned, all you could think about was how good se-mi was making you feel, and you did not want her stopping.

your legs began to shake and your grip on her hair had not loosened, you clenched down on her fingers once more before coming off the edge. se-mi’s pace finally slowed down and before you knew it, she had moved from your pussy to your lips, kissing you softly. you could taste yourself on her lips, but you were so far gone you certainly did not care. se-mi took in the state of you and chuckled, before putting her shirt back on and laying you across her lap.

“how about next time, you go down on me?” she suggested, combing her hands through your hair. you nodded, still in a daze. you couldn’t think of anything else but her.

se-mi was like a drug, she was your morphine.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

thanks for reading! and as usual advice and constructive criticism are always appreciated and requested, I’m constantly looking for ways to improve my writing :>

[navybrat817]

Ficlet friday sounds cool!

Bucky Barnes (or any other character you feel like writing it) + gently kissing the forehead or top of the head

Have a wonderful weekend! 😊

I hope you enjoy this, Rai!

Weekend Plans

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Word Count: Over 440

Warnings: Semi-dramatic reader, but it's sweet

Collapsing on the couch, you let out an unrefined groan. Work was too much today; it had been all week. You were exhausted and content to stare into the abyss that was your ceiling and not move unless you absolutely had to.

“Should I even ask how your day was?” Bucky asked, hanging up his leather jacket.

Lifting your head to smile at your boyfriend, you nodded. “You should always ask how my day was.”

“How was your day?”

“Exhausting!” You heard him chuckle when you dramatically draped an arm over your eyes. He knew how you got when you were tired. Or hungry. “Please tell me we have no weekend plans.”

He winced, lifting up your legs so he could take a seat and keeping them in his lap. “I’m afraid we do,” he said, lightly rubbing one of your calves. You don’t recall making plans. “Not gonna ask about my day?” he teased.

“How was your day?” you mumbled.

“It was fine,” he answered. “But about those plans, we-”

The unrefined groan came out again.

He waited until you finished before he said, “We’re spending the weekend in.”

You removed your arm from your eyes. “Really?”

“Yep. Pizza tonight, blankets, binging whatever you want, staying in bed if that’s what you want,” he replied, giving you a lopsided smile. “We can do takeout tomorrow, too, so we won’t have to worry about cooking or cleaning dishes.”

“You make a good point about the dishes,” you smiled, your exhausted body and mind excited at the idea. “You sure that’s okay?” you asked. If he wanted to go out or do something, you’d suck it up. Sleep and relaxation could happen another day.

“You’ve had a long week. You’re worn out. I don’t want you to have any stress this weekend, okay?” Maneuvering so he was hovering over you, he gently kissed your forehead. “Besides, spending time with you alone is my favorite activity.”

Your heart felt so full. “You’re too good to me,” you whispered, pulling him on top of you. He was the best kind of blanket. “I think spending time along with you is my favorite activity, too.”

“You think?” he asked

“Yeah, I think,” you smiled, tucking some of his hair back. “But you have an entire weekend to convince me that it should be my number one favorite activity.”

Something mischievous sparkled in his blue eyes. “Well, I haven’t ordered the pizza yet, so I think I should start convincing you now,” he said, smothering your giggle when his lips met yours.

He convinced you, and you thanked him more than once for the wonderful weekend plans.

Love and thanks for participating in Ficlet Friday! ❤️

[mattsobvimyfav]

neighbors (Matthew Sturniolo)

pt.2

Friday morning was full of excitement. Charlie and I had barely slept the night before, too eager about picking up our cars. The moment we got to the dealerships, it felt surreal seeing our new cars parked out front, gleaming in the morning sunlight.

Charlie’s yellow Jeep Wrangler stood out like a burst of sunshine, and my forest green Ford Bronco had this rugged, timeless look that made me fall in love with it all over again. We couldn’t stop grinning as we signed the last bits of paperwork and were handed the keys.

Once we were done, we decided to meet back at the house and park our cars side by side. The contrast of Charlie’s bright yellow and my deep green made for the perfect aesthetic, and we couldn’t pass up the opportunity for a photo op. We set up the tripod and took a bunch of pictures in front of our cars, arms around each other, grinning from ear to ear.

One picture stood out: the two of us leaning against our cars, It perfectly captured the moment, our excitement radiating through the screen.

Back inside, we edited the picture quickly and posted it to our joint Instagram account with the caption:

“New wheels, new beginnings. Video dropping tonight at 8 PM EST! Huge thank you to you guys for making all of this possible. We love you so much!”

Within minutes, the post started blowing up with likes and comments. Fans were excited to see the new cars and were already hyped for the video announcement.

“Okay, that’s done,” I said, setting my phone down.

“Yup,” Charlie replied, her face already buried in her phone. “Do you want to go to that party tonight?”

“What party?” I asked back.

Last year Sam and Colby, the ghost-hunting YouTubers, had come to Massachusetts twice to film with us. They’d reached out after seeing some of our vlogs where we explored abandoned buildings, claiming we had the perfect skepticism for a collaboration. The first shoot had been a creepy old mansion, and the second, an eerie graveyard that left us questioning our life choices. Those videos were some of the highlights of our channel, and working with Sam and Colby had been an absolute blast.

We kept in touch sporadically through Instagram DMs, commenting on each other’s projects and hyping each other up, but we hadn’t seen them since the last collaboration. 

“Sam and Colby invited us to their party” She replied very nonchalant 

I blinked, “What?”

She shoved her phone in my face, and there it was a dm from Sam

“Hey, char, We’re throwing a party tonight seeing you guys just moved here figured it was the perfect welcome. Have y/n text Colby if you guys want to come.”

“First party here?” I said, sitting up straight. “I mean fuck it”

“Exactly,” Charlie said, pacing the room. “Text Colby.”

I hesitated for a moment, thinking about the crowd that would be there. I rolled over on top of Charlie and started grunting “There's going to be a lot of people, isn't there?”

Charlie gave me a look like I was insane. “We moved to LA. What else did you expect”

She had a point. 

“Okay,” I said, nodding. “Ill text him.” I pulled my phone out typing up colbys name in my messages .

‘Hey, me and charles will go send me ur address and the time you want us there’ 

Colby quickly texted me back with the information and I saw it was about forty five minutes from us.

“Okay we have like two hours till we have to start getting ready” I told Charlie, throwing my phone across the couch.

“Now the big question,” she said, trying to push me off of her. “What the hell are we going to wear?”

I’d just hit “post” on our car shopping vlog and already saw the comments rolling in, fans gushing about our new cars and how excited they were for our move to LA. I closed the laptop and stood, stretching.

“Alright,” I said, turning to Charlie, who was rummaging through the cabinets “Let’s do this.”

We ran upstairs and Charlie came into my room with clothes in hand “What are you wearing?”

She held up a sheer grey sparkly cropped top with a satisfied grin. “This, with black jeans and a black bra underneath. Casual, but still hot. What about you?”

I stared at my closet for a second before grabbing my cheetah-print corset top and a loose, short black skirt. 

Charlie whistled, nodding in approval. “What the fuck, your boobs are going to look so good”

We spent the next hour getting ready, music blasting in the background. I curled my hair in loose waves while Charlie applied her makeup with the precision of an artist. After throwing on my outfit, I accessorized with a pair of silver hoops, a stack of bracelets and necklaces. Charlie opted for sleek eyeliner and a touch of highlighter that caught the light perfectly.

By the time we were both dressed.

“Our ubers almost here, ready?” Charlie asked, her grin infectious.

I smirked, grabbing my purse. “Lets get fucked up.”

The Uber dropped us off in front of a sprawling mansion glowing with string lights and thumping with bass. People were spilling out onto the driveway, drinks in hand, laughing and shouting over the music.

“Okay, this is a lot,” Charlie whispered as we stepped onto the property.

“It'll be fun,” I muttered back, adjusting my skirt as we approached the front door.

Inside, the party was even more chaotic. The lights were dim, colored LED strips casting a neon glow over the crowded rooms. The air smelled like expensive perfume, alcohol, and something faintly burnt—probably weed.

“Y/N! Charlie!” Colby’s voice cut through the noise. He appeared out of nowhere, a wide grin on his face. He pulled us into quick hugs, kissing my forehead. “You made it! I’m so glad. Drinks are in the kitchen. Just have fun. I’ll find you guys later!”

Before we could say much, he disappeared into the crowd, already engrossed in some conversation.

Charlie and I exchanged a look. 

We made our way to the kitchen, weaving through groups of influencers we recognized from YouTube and TikTok. The countertops were lined with bottles of alcohol, mixers, and cups, and a bartender stood behind the counter, casually pouring drinks.

“Two vodka sodas, please,” Charlie ordered, leaning on the counter.

I glanced around, taking in the party. People were dancing, talking, laughing, and in the living room, something made me stop short. A group of people were casually doing lines of coke on the glass coffee table like it was nothing.

Charlie followed my gaze and froze. “Uh…”

“That’s…a lot,” I said, grabbing my drink and taking a sip.

“Fuck it, its LA,” she suggested.

“You're right.”

We carried our drinks into the living room, After scanning the area, we found a couple of empty spots on a couch and sat down. The vibe was weird—part glitzy and glamorous, part outright hedonistic—but at least the music was good, and the drinks were strong.

“This is going to be an interesting night,” Charlie muttered, glancing around.

I nodded, taking another sip. “Understatement of the year.”

Charlie and I decided to split up after a while. “You go do your thing,” she said with a smirk. “I’m gonna see if I can find someone interesting to talk to.”

I laughed, finishing off my drink. “Fine, but don’t leave me stranded with coke heads.”

She winked and disappeared into the crowd, leaving me to wander. I ended up by the bar again, where I ran into Jake Webber and Carrington, two creators I had followed for years.

“You’re Y/N, right?” Jake asked, flashing a charming grin.

“Yeah, that’s me,” I said, trying to sound casual.

“We’ve seen your stuff,” Carrington added, leaning on the counter. “You are hilarious.”

“Thanks,” I said, genuinely flattered. “You guys are too”

We quickly got into a conversation about how they've never seen me around before, and I explained the whole finishing college.

Until I felt someone staring.

I turned, and there he was—Chris. His expression was a mix of shock and irritation, and it didn’t take long for him to storm over.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he demanded, his voice low but firm.

Jake and Carrington both looked between us, clearly uncomfortable.

“Uh, I think we’ll let you guys talk,” Jake said, quickly retreating with Carrington.

“What are you talking about?” I said, crossing my arms. “It’s a party. I was invited.”

Chris ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated. “This isn't some college party, Y/N. You shouldn’t be here. People actually do drugs and get fucked up here”

“Are you serious? I’m perfectly fine, Chris.”

“No, you’re not,” he snapped. “You don’t know half the shit that goes down at these parties.”

“I don’t need your protection. I’ve been fine without you for four years.”

His jaw clenched, and before I could react, he grabbed my arm.

“What the fuck!” I shouted, trying to pull away, but his grip was firm.

“We’re talking. Alone,” he said, dragging me upstairs despite my protests.

When we reached an empty room, he finally let go, slamming the door shut behind us.

“What the fuck is your problem?” I yelled, rubbing my arm.

“My problem is you being here, acting like this is just some casual party,” he fired back. “You don’t belong here, your too good for all of this”

“I’m not a child, Chris! Stop treating me like one.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his voice dropping, almost pleading. “This place, these people—they’re not for you, Y/N.”

“Why do you even care?” I shot back, my voice cracking slightly. “You made it pretty clear you didn’t four years ago.”

His face softened for a moment, but he quickly masked it with frustration. “You don’t get it. I never stopped caring.”

I stared at him, my chest tightening with anger. “Well, maybe you should have.”

I glared at Chris, my voice trembling with anger. “You don’t get to do this, Chris. You don’t get to come into my life out of nowhere and act like you care.”

“I do care!” he shot back, his frustration boiling over.

“Really? Because it sure didn’t feel like it when you left. When you and your brothers decided we weren’t worth a conversation, a warning, anything.”

Chris rubbed the back of his neck, his jaw tightening. “We had to go. It wasn’t just about us—it was about what was best for our careers.”

“And what about us? What about Charlie? Do you even know what you did to her? She loved you, Chris, and you shattered her heart without a second thought.”

His face twisted in pain, but he stayed silent.

“And don’t even get me started on Matt,” I continued, my voice rising. “Do you have any idea what it was like to watch the person I thought I’d spend my life with just… leave? To find out everything I thought we had was just gone because you three made a decision that didn’t include us?”

Chris opened his mouth to respond, but I wasn’t done.

“He told me it was for my own good,” I said, my voice breaking. “That he didn’t want to ‘drag me down.’ But you know what? That wasn’t his choice to make. He didn’t trust me enough to stay and fight for us. He didn’t trust me.”

Chris’s shoulders slumped, and he looked at me, guilt etched across his face. “Matt never got over you,” he said softly.

I let out a bitter laugh. “Don’t you dare try to make this about how hard it was for him. He left me, Chris. He made that choice. He didn’t even try to work it out. And you—you were just as bad. You lied to Charlie, broke her heart, and walked away like we didn’t even matter.”

“I didn’t know what else to do,” he yelled

“You could’ve stayed,” I shot back. “You could’ve talked to us. But instead, you left us to pick up the pieces while you chased your dreams. And now you’re here, what? Hoping we’ll just forget all of it?”

Chris ran a hand through his hair, his face crumbling. “It wasn’t like that, Y/N.”

“Then tell me what it was like,” I challenged. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you three cared more about yourselves than the people who loved you.”

Chris looked away, unable to meet my gaze. The silence between us was heavy, suffocating. Finally, I shook my head, stepping back toward the door.

“You made your choices, Chris,” I said, my voice cold. “And we’ve made ours. Stay away from me. Stay away from Charlie. Just stop. I am going to go downstairs and enjoy this party. And you, your going to fuck right off.”

I turned and walked out, slamming the door behind me, my heart pounding in my chest.

As I sipped my drink, chatting with a girl who’d just introduced herself as Riley, I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. I turned and, of course, there he was. Matt. The last person I wanted to see tonight.

I sighed loudly, pinching the bridge of my nose for dramatic effect. “Can I have one night of peace, please?”

“Nope,” Matt replied flatly, his jaw set and his eyes locked on me. “We’re leaving. Now.”

I stared at him, dumbfounded. “Excuse me? We’re not doing anything. You’re free to go, but I’m staying right here.”

He crossed his arms, his expression unyielding. “I’m serious, Y/N. This party isn’t for you. We’re leaving.”

I rolled my eyes so hard it hurt. “Oh, give me a break, Matt. You don’t get to decide what’s for me anymore. You lost that privilege a long time ago.”

He didn’t flinch, didn’t back down. “I’m not asking, Y/N. Let’s go.”

I groaned, the frustration boiling over. “Whatever makes you leave me alone.”

Pulling my phone from my bag, I quickly texted Charlie:

Change of plans. Get an Uber home without me. I’ll explain later.

Without waiting for her reply, I turned to Matt. “Happy now?”

He didn’t say anything, just motioned toward the door. I followed him, my anger simmering under the surface. Of all the people in the world to interrupt my night, it just had to be him.

The car ride home was suffocatingly silent. Every second stretched painfully, and I could feel Matt’s presence like a weight on my chest. I stared out the window, my mind racing, trying to process how the night had spiraled so fast.

When we finally pulled into my driveway, I unbuckled my seatbelt, ready to escape this nightmare. But as I stepped out, I realized Matt was right behind me, following me up the walkway.

I stopped dead in my tracks, turning to face him. “Um, your house is that way,” I said, pointing next door.

He didn’t respond. Instead, he reached into my bag, yanked out my keys, and unlocked the door. Before I could even react, he pushed the door open and guided me inside with an unyielding grip on my arm.

“Matt! What the FUCK are you doing?” I snapped, jerking my arm free.

He shut the door behind us, his eyes blazing with anger. “We need to talk.”

“Oh, now you want to talk?” I shot back, throwing my bag onto the couch. “Four years, Matt. Four years of silence, and you think you can just walk into my life and demand a conversation?”

“I didn’t have a choice back then!” he yelled, his voice cracking with frustration.

I laughed bitterly. “You didn’t have a choice? You chose to leave. You chose to walk away from me, from everything we had! Don’t stand here and act like you’re some victim.”

“I had to leave, Y/N!” he shouted, stepping closer. “I did it for us. For our future. You think it was easy for me to walk away?”

I scoffed, crossing my arms. “Don’t you dare try to twist this into some noble act. You left with nothing. No explanation, no warning—just gone.”

Matt’s face twisted with frustration. “I didn’t want to drag you down with me. You deserved better—”

“Don’t you dare tell me what I deserved!” I interrupted, my voice trembling. “You don’t get to make that call for me. You abandoned me, Matt. And you don’t get to waltz back into my life like nothing happened.”

He ran his hands through his hair, pacing the room. “I didn’t abandon you! I thought—”

“You thought what?” I spat. “That I’d just wait around for you? That I’d put my life on hold while you chased whatever the hell it is you wanted?”

“I thought you’d understand,” he said quietly, his voice laced with pain.

I shook my head, my throat tightening. “I don’t understand, Matt. I don’t understand how you could hurt me like that and then come back here and act like you care.”

“I do care, Y/N!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the room. “I’ve always cared!”

“Bullshit!” I screamed, the tears finally spilling over. “If you cared, you wouldn’t have left! You wouldn’t have destroyed me! I hate you, Matt. I hate you.”

His face crumbled, and for a moment, I thought he might cry. But then his expression shifted, anger flickering in his eyes. “You don’t mean that,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

“Oh, I mean it,” I said, my voice sharp as glass. “And just so we’re clear, I’ve moved on. I have a boyfriend now, Matt. His name is Leo, and he actually cares about me.”

Matt froze, his eyes narrowing. “You’re lying,” he said.

“I’m not,” I said coldly, meeting his gaze. “He’s everything you’re not. Reliable, honest, present.”

Matt’s breathing quickened, and he took a step closer, his fists clenched at his sides. “He’ll never love you like I do,” he said, his voice shaking with anger.

I laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. “Love? Don’t make me laugh, Matt. Whatever you felt for me died the second you walked out that door.”

His face twisted with pain, but I didn’t care. I was done being the girl he left behind. Done letting him think he had any power over me.

I swallowed hard, the words burning in my throat. “The tattoo. The one of our dorm number. What the hell were you thinking?”

Matt’s jaw clenched, and his eyes darted away like he didn’t want to answer.

“Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about,” I said, stepping closer. “I saw it, Matt. The key. The number. Why would you do that? Why would you brand yourself with something you so easily left behind?”

“I didn’t leave it behind,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible.

I let out a bitter laugh. “You could’ve fooled me. You left. You didn’t look back. And now you’re walking around with this permanent reminder? What’s the point? To pretend you didn’t completely destroy me?”

“I got it because I never forgot,” he snapped, his voice rising as he finally looked at me. “Because no matter how far I went, no matter how much time passed, it was always there. You were always there.”

I felt my stomach twist, anger bubbling to the surface. “Do you even hear yourself right now? You don’t get to say that. You don’t get to act like you’ve been suffering when you were the one who made this choice!”

“You think this has been easy for me?” he shouted, stepping closer. “You think I don’t regret it every fucking day? That I don’t wake up wishing I’d done things differently?”

“Then why didn’t you?” I yelled back, my voice breaking. “Why didn’t you stay? Why didn’t you fight for us?”

His face crumpled, and for a moment, he looked utterly defeated. “Because I was scared, okay? I was scared I’d hold you back, that I’d ruin everything good in your life.”

“You already did,” I whispered, the words cutting through the air like a knife.

Matt flinched, his shoulders slumping. “I thought I was doing the right thing,” he said.

I shook my head, tears streaming down my face. “The right thing would’ve been staying. Fighting for me, for us. But instead, you left. And now you’re standing here, acting like you’re the victim. It’s pathetic, Matt.”

He took a shaky breath, his eyes locking onto mine. “I don’t know how to fix this,” he said, his voice breaking.

“You can’t,” I said firmly. “It’s too late. You made your choice, and I’ve moved on. You need to do the same.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Matt looked at me like he wanted to say something, like he wanted to fight for me now, but it was too late.

“Go,” I said softly, my voice steady despite the tears. “Just go, Matt.”

This time, he didn’t hesitate. He turned and walked out the door, leaving me standing there, shattered all over again.

I dragged myself upstairs, each step feeling heavier than the last. My chest was tight, my breaths shallow as if the weight of the night was physically crushing me. I stepped into the bathroom, not even bothering to turn on the light at first. The dim glow from the hallway was enough as I stared at myself in the mirror. My red, puffy eyes and tear-streaked face stared back at me, a reflection of how utterly wrecked I felt.

I turned on the shower, letting the water heat up as I pulled off my clothes. The moment I stepped under the spray, the tears started again, mixing with the water cascading down my face. I sobbed quietly, my hands gripping the tiled walls for support. The warmth of the shower did nothing to ease the cold, empty feeling in my chest.

It wasn’t fair. None of it was fair.

The memories came flooding back: laughter in our dorm, late-night conversations, stolen kisses. And then the way he left, how he tore everything apart. And now—now he had the audacity to show up, to push himself back into my life when I’d worked so hard to move on.

By the time I turned off the water and stepped out, my legs felt weak, and my heart felt heavier. I wrapped myself in a towel and padded to my room. Pulling on an oversized sweatshirt that fell to my thighs and a pair of underwear, I tried to focus on anything other than the ache in my chest.

I took my time with my skincare routine, the familiar motions grounding me. Cleanse, tone, moisturize—it was a small act of care in a moment where I felt so completely uncared for.

Finally, I headed downstairs, my hair still damp and clinging to my neck. I grabbed my water bottle from the kitchen and made my way to the couch. Curling up in the corner, I tucked my knees under the sweatshirt and pulled a blanket over myself.

The house was quiet, save for the faint hum of the fridge. I glanced at my phone, seeing no new texts or missed calls. Charlie wasn’t home yet, but I needed her. I needed her to burst through the door with her dramatic energy and remind me I wasn’t alone.

I grabbed my phone and decided it was time to finally tell Leo about Matt living next door. I sent him a text lying in the process saying all that happened was I saw him outside, and we didn't speak.

I stared at my phone, waiting for Leo’s response. My heart was pounding, and I wasn’t sure if it was from the confrontation with Matt earlier or the anxiety of telling Leo. I knew he would be upset, but I didn’t realize how upset until his response came through.

Leo: What? Are you kidding me?

Leo: You’re telling me you’re near him again? After everything?

My fingers trembled as I read his messages. His words stung more than I expected.

Me: I didn’t want him to be here either, Leo. It just happened.

Leo: No, Y/N, you literally live next door to him. What are you going to go back to him now?

Me: I’m not going back to him. I’m just dealing with the fact that he’s living next door now. And I didn’t know until tonight.

Leo: I hate that he’s still in your head, its supposed to be me and you. Not you and matt and maybe me.

I let out a shaky breath, tears pricking at my eyes. It hurt to see him so angry, but I couldn’t blame him. 

Me: I’m not letting him back in, Leo. I swear.

Leo: You say that, You’re letting him get in the way of us.

Me: That’s not fair, Leo. I didn’t choose for him to be there. He shouldn't be affecting us at all.

There was a long pause, and when his next message came through, I could feel the frustration and hurt in every word.

Leo: I’m sorry, but I can’t do this. I can’t sit here and wait for you to just go back to him. You think I didn't hear about you guys all the time, we were on the hockey team together. I don’t want to end up being second to him.

I felt like the air had been sucked out of my lungs. My eyes were blurring with tears, and I felt a lump form in my throat. This was not how I expected this to go. I thought Leo would understand. I thought he would have my back, not be so furious with me for being in this situation.

Me: Leo, please don’t say that.

But I could tell by the tone of his messages, he was already done.

Leo: I think we need some space, Y/N. I don’t know if I can keep doing this.

My hands shook as I stared at the screen. I could feel the walls closing in around me, suffocating me. I didn’t know how to fix this, how to make things right with Leo. He was right to be angry, but it felt like I was losing him for something that wasn’t even my fault.

Me: I’m sorry, Leo. I really am.

There was no reply after that, and I just stared at my phone, willing it to buzz with a message that would undo the damage I’d done. But it didn’t. And I couldn’t help but feel like I was losing everything: Leo, my peace, and my control over this new chapter of my life.

As I stared at my phone, trying to calm my racing thoughts, my eyes caught a notification on the screen. I hadn’t expected it. I didn’t want to expect it.

Matt followed you on TikTok.

It was like the breath left my body all over again. I couldn’t help but stare at the notification for a few seconds, I had forgotten to re-block him, feeling the weight of everything crash down on me. I hadn’t wanted this. I didn’t want any of this anymore. My mind was spinning, overwhelmed by the weight of what had just happened with Leo, the confrontation with Matt, and the fact that my entire world felt like it was being flipped upside down.

I glanced over at the clock. Charlie wasn’t home yet, and I knew she was probably out having fun, doing her thing, while I was stuck here, buried under everything that had been happening. The noise in my head was unbearable.

I sighed, standing up and walking towards the bedroom. I pulled back the covers and crawled into bed. I felt like I’d been running a race that I couldn’t keep up with. All the thoughts, the emotions, the people who had once meant everything to me – they were all tangled in my chest, suffocating me.

I needed to escape it all, at least for a moment. I pulled the blankets tight around me, trying to make myself as small as possible, hoping that the weight of it all would disappear if I just closed my eyes.

But the reality was that it wouldn’t. None of it would.

I shut off my phone and threw it across the room, too tired to even process the pain it caused me. I just needed to shut down, stop thinking, even if it was just for tonight.

I tried to push the thoughts of Matt and Leo out of my head, but they lingered, gnawing at me. I didn’t know where to go from here. Everything had become so complicated. And as much as I hated to admit it, I was exhausted from trying to figure it all out.

I closed my eyes, burying my face in the pillow, and let myself drift into a restless sleep, hoping that when I woke up, maybe everything would be a little clearer. 

tag-

@tbfaptbfae @ch0llies @2muchofaslvt @rockstarchr1s @simply-a-simper @mattscore @watercolorskyy @urfungi @sturnsvelocity @mattsturnii @christmastreecake @izzylovesmatt @larnieboox88 @christophersstar @realuvrrr

[eunandonly]

exhibit a : you

୨୧ ; you and riki, on a date solving murder cases gone cold? that’s going to end in another murder!

pairing! criminaljusticemajor!riki x criminologymajor!reader | wc. 0.9k | warnings: atempted humour, incorrect law and forensic terms, homicide mentions EN-

🖇️ : riki version finally!! sorry it took so long ㅜㅜ

riki has been majoring in criminal justice for some time now

you two never really talked properly, most of your conversations were trivial things like “can i borrow your pencil” or “when does this lecture end”

you never expected your first proper conversation with him to be an argument about who can solve a cold case faster

"of course i can solve it the fastest, what are you talking about, y/n?"

that just pisses you off bc who does he think he is

let's be so fr why is he so full of himself?

you had just been listening in on his conversation about a case study and you couldn't help but jump in

and riki had the audacity to mock you

"you're really going to stick with that theory? it's clearly wrong- come on, even i know that."

you were ready to bash his pretty little face in

bc your theory about the jane doe case is definitely right dafuq.

the time window, the evidence, the interview transcripts... it all fits your narrative

and the more you and riki discuss the case, the more convinced riki is that your theory MIGHT be right

of course he won't admit that though

but when you start talking about livor mortis he can't help but stare at you with hearts in his eyes

like DAMN he loves girls who recite shit like that as if it's the alphabet

one day you're just packing up your bag to leave after a lecture when riki comes over

"hey, you wanna study with me this evening? get some work done on the cold case project?"

riki's tryna be all nonchalant but he's screaming inside PLEASE SAY YES PLEASE SAY YES

you say yes.

you two meet at riki’s dorm room and tbh it’s kinda messy in there

i imagine criminology major riki to have lots of books regarding criminal law and stuff lying about everywhere and js have a lot of stuff in general

like the only place that’s not covered by some book or paper of some sort is the bed because he needs sleep (but he stays up till 5am anyways)

he probably listens to true crime podcasts all night

riki and you start get into your work right away but both of you keep getting carried away bickering

don’t worry it’s just playful banter ☺️

“i said stfu his rigor mortis had only started on the head and neck of the body but livor mortis had fully set- that's just says that someone manipulated the factors”

you’re just sitting on his bed pointing at the case file and trying to prove your point

riki’s smart but dense at the same time

you both have some genuinely concerning conversation starters

“oh yeah so this girl apparently got burned alive on a wooden pole outside a school campus!”

"do you think the car air conditioner will be cold enough to use during the winter when trying to onset rigor mortis of the body?"

"if someone dug up a already dead body murdered by someone else and re-buried it to hide it from the officials, what charges would they get?"

you guys say it so casually too like you're discussing what to have for dinner

you always thought riki was cool and had a little liking for him but working on a project together and really made the feelings more intense

sure he’s an annoying little menace who’s way too stubborn

but he’s smart. and he’s pretty.

you really are going to bash his pretty face in one day.

even when you two are not working on the project you two meet up in each other’s dorm rooms to play games, talk, etc

like you two make plans to meet up at your room to play fortnite (you carry his ass through the game)

oh but he won't admit that

i feel like riki would prefer staying in for these types of activities

you know those little packages of fake crime cases you can buy to investigate and stuff?

that's what you and riki do on friday nights except it's not a fake crime

it's all real

you guys research serial murder cases, disappearances that went cold YEARS ago, heists... the list just goes on and on

yeah but these little dates are probably going to become a homicide case itself

no bc why is riki not shutting up his narrative is so wrong

he ends up confessing to you at the end of the month after both of you submitted the most beautiful thesis on a double homicide case

you got lots of help from riki on the criminal law aspects of it and you helped him with the profiling and forensics part

"no y/n, he would be charged for perverting the course of justice, what are you on?"

“riki, stop being such a dumbass. the offender and the victim had no connection whatsoever.”

riki was so scared to confess to you, he was overthinking for days straight instead of sleeping at night

so for your first date you just have him come over to your dorm and make a murder board with you

not exactly a common first date activity but both of you have fun with red string and evidence so it’s fine

you and riki later on create your own true crime podcast except you're not just talking about the crime

you're both solving them (agggtm anyone?)

i'd like to think that you and riki's podcasts went viral and everyone gushing over you two

you and riki just make a really cute couple

[trustmypoison]

Stray Kids with a therapist!partner

Requested? Yes!

Request: ‘I absolutely loved the little drabble/reaction that you did for Seventeen on if their s/o was a teacher, so I was curious if you would be willing to do something similar and horribly self-indulgent for me? Would you be willing to do something similar for either Seventeen, Ateez, or Stray Kids on if their s/o was a therapist or working to become a licensed therapist?‘

Is really fascinated by how easily you seem to be able to give great advice - Hyunjin, I.N.

I don’t think you could be in that sort of career and not naturally be pretty good at giving advice. It’s not that he wants to make you work outside of work or anything, but he really values your perspective on things, particularly because of the experience you have. So sometimes, he’ll approach you and ask what you think about a situation that he or one of the members is going through. Trust that he knows how to read the room and not ask on a more taxing day, but you really are his first thought when he runs into a problem.

Worries about the downsides, such as burnout and vicarious trauma - Chan, Han

It’s very clear when you’ve had a hard day because you’ll come home and just need some time to space out. I’m talking about taking a super long shower (which he knows you do sometimes to sneak a good cry in during) or just going straight to bed, though you aren’t sleeping. If you don’t self-isolate, you can still be pretty distant on those days. He’ll do what he can to comfort you, but there are so many things you can’t really tell him details about. Now and then, he’ll ask if you really like your job and want to continue with it because he worries about how it impacts your own mental health sometimes. 

Encourages you to continue your education and specialize in something you’re passionate about - Minho, Seungmin

I know where I live, licensed therapists have to do some continuing education every year. But if you have an interest in a particular topic in therapy, he’s encouraging you to focus on it and perhaps start specializing in it. It could be trauma, or learning disorders, or addiction, etc. It doesn’t matter to him as long as it’s something that you really enjoy. If you get another certification or degree, he magically always has a frame for you to put it in. I fear everyone that he’s ever met knows he’s dating someone who has what he considers to be a really important and special job. 

Respects that work often drains your social battery and helps you recharge - Changbin, Felix

These guys seem pretty extroverted, but even the most extroverted people still need a little downtime to recharge. So when you come home on a Friday afternoon after a long week and ask to stay in, he totally gets it. He understands that you’re spending a lot of your social energy on your work with your patients and don’t have much to give when it comes to going out for dinner or drinks or anything else really. Really doesn’t mind camping out on the couch with some takeout, a bunch of blankets, and a movie. 

[curiouspupsicle]

Good Omens Fan Fiction Friday (1/3/25) - The Bentley

Has any secondary character from Good Omens benefitted more from fan fiction than the Bentley? I don't think so. Thanks to fan writers, the Bentley has become a full fledged character as interesting as the Them, Warlock, Madame Tracy, Nina and Maggie... So here are a few of my favorite fics in which the Bentley plays a significant role. In A Scrap of Lonely Velveteen (G) by AstroGirl, we see the Bentley's POV of the moment Aziraphale leaves earth on the elevator to heaven. This ficlet (less than 500 words) reads like a lovely prose poem. Another post season 2 fic, Been With You Such a Long Time (G) by Chash teams up fan favorite Muriel with the sentient car. Crowley asks Muriel to keep the Bentley company while he helps Aziraphale avert the Second Coming. But it takes Muriel and the Bentley teaming up to bring the ineffable pair together for good. Writer makes the most of this one-shot.

@klikandtuna's The Bentley and the Bookshop (G) starts with the history of the bookshop which becomes increasingly infused with Aziraphale's essence over time. When the Bentley appears over a century later, it forms a bond with the bookstore. This shows a lovely outsider's POV of the relationship between Crowley and Aziraphale as well as a beautiful relationship between the shop and the car. Pink Angel (G) is another sweet one-shot by @klikandtuna in which Aziraphale "borrows" the Bentley to buy a Valentine's gift for Crowley. When they get caught in a storm, Crowley has to rescue them. This is the fluffiest fluff riding on a fluff train. I adored it.

In With Her as Our Witness (M) by @sakascal, we see the Bentley coming home with Crowley for the first time. The rest of the tale gives us her insights in every major event in which she has a part all the way until Aziraphale returns to earth after the events of season 2. This would be a nice one to read while you're waiting for the finale. I can't tell you too much about Count Your Blessings (T) by SpectrallyDistracted without spoiling it. In this second of two works, Crowley and Aziraphale are still not talking despite averting the Second Coming. Aziraphale agrees to give Crowley space. But can't resist blessing Crowley to find someone who can give him the love of his life rather than be alone. Yep, angsty. And beautiful. With a happy ending. You'll have to read it to see the Bentley's role in resolving their relationship. A sweet little one-shot, Get Bent(ley) (G) by MimiRay, shares the Bentley's POV from the beginning to Aziraphale's return to heaven. I loved watching the ineffable pair's relationship through her eyes.

So what about you? Are you as big a Bentley fan as I am? Do you think she'll play a significant role in the finale? Shout at me in the comments. Share your fave Bentley fics. And follow me to see weekly Good Omens fan fic recommendations based on some idiosyncratic theme

[bimboficationblues]

2024 was a mixed bag. I spent a lot of it malding about my job, but fortunately I am no longer there and have a new one (family lawyer for DV survivors). Idk if I want to keep being a lawyer long term but rn I am making more money, doing more interesting (but potentially taxing) work, and hopefully it will level out to something either tolerable or useful.

long distance with my love is still sad, and we found that polyamory did not really alleviate those pressures, but we have taken some good steps towards a different approach, starting with a monogamy trial run. I found dating around mostly unpleasant despite some exciting possibilities throughout the year - very few people seem to really know what they want and act accordingly. ultimately poly started to feel like I was chasing after an ideal, and I do believe I’d enjoy that ideal. but when the process of pursuing it is so exhausting and unfun and crazy-making it just doesn’t seem worth it. the lesbian connections I found frequently ended because the other person started acting like an avoidant abject meow meow and I simply don’t have the patience.

as far as bringing the long distance to a close, I'm not sure how that’s gonna happen - I love Chicago and I don't want to leave my people. for the first time since maybe high school I do not feel fundamentally lonely and I think that's a feeling worth taking seriously. I've been really overjoyed by my various friendships, both near and far. but I miss my gf dearly. she has my heart. I don’t feel like I’ve ever loved or been loved like this. It’s a difficult situation.

I did get to travel a lot which was nice - this year in addition to regular Washington visits, including one to Olympic National Park, I also went to Barcelona, Toronto, Montreal, Cleveland, and Philadelphia. I am visiting my love's hometown currently and while I was kind of dreading it a bit it's turned out to be overall very pleasant and comforting and nice to see where she came from. Plus I did some visits to the family in SC.

speaking of which, I am feeling generally at ease with my parents. I feel like I've been able to accept that they are limited people, but not to such a degree that it makes being around them impossible, and they have also generally gotten cooler about a lot of things. we have a lot in common and it is generally fun to spend time with them despite their foibles. being able to do drugs together also helps. my dad turned 60 this year and my mom has been having health issues, which I do think has made entropy be on my mind a lot more to a troubling degree. dunno how I’ll handle that when it becomes a more pressing consideration but I guess that’s a problem for the future.

last January I made a conscious effort to approach my passions and hobbies more intentionally by making a daily schedule that roughly looked like this:

MONDAY - fiction reading; TUESDAY - history studies; WEDNESDAY - philosophy/political theory studies/writing; THURSDAY - working on music; FRIDAY - watching movies.

I also tried to get some daily activities going on top of all these - listening to at least one full album a day, regular walks, practicing guitar, yoga. keeping to this was inconsistent - sometimes I was locked in and sometimes I'd get derailed by other priorities (spending time with the love, seeing my lovely friends, getting stoned, travel). sometimes certain activities are just easier (reading comics is always fun and also minimally demanding of my energy, social media and doomscrolling is a tempting time-sink). I might try and revise this approach in some ways - I might want to take a harder tack with how much time I want to spend on each activity - but I do think that even just being deliberate and structured about how I spend my time made my mental state significantly stronger. so that is a positive development.

artistically I've made progress on the album, but I never feel like I have enough time to dedicate to it with work and everything else. but I also think my approach of trying to write all the songs first before recording them was the wrong one. so instead I think I'm going to start trying to get what I've roughly finished into a recorded form and in the process a stronger vision of the project will emerge which will help with future songs. this will require me to learn some new skills - I've always worked with a producer before - but that's not a bad thing. my friends and I are also doing a writing workshop so that will be nice to get feedback from people I love and trust.

social media has been real bad for me this past year in a kind of emotionally masochistic way - I found myself hatereading a lot more, which is bad. I’m hoping I can adjust that this year and stop getting brain damage from pissing myself off.

part of the reason for the above is that the political situation domestically and globally is dire and basically I just see cope or rationalization everywhere which, considering the urgency and scope and existential weight of what’s happening, is really infuriating to me. I feel like after a year of some of the most depraved inhuman butchery imaginable, as the ruling class takes refuge in obvious bad faith that is “all the more odious because it is less and less likely to deceive,” and with Hitleritis running rampant through civil society, we need a sober reflection on the challenge ahead of us as socialists. I do not want the ruling class to annihilate the rest of us with them or for capital to find new, intensified, and more insidious methods of shifting crisis around. this is partly why anti-intellectual, regressive forms of Marxism have been stuck in my craw lately, because it feels like psychological palliatives masquerading as politics. I’m not sure what the move is to really turn the tides of the war we are in, but doing away with self-deceiving political impulses seems like a start.

[mercy-burning]

We’re Really Gone

Mercy’s Ficmas 2024 | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: You wake up New Year's morning next to your boyfriend, realizing that once you leave, you'll be gone for good. Based on the song "gone" by VÉRITÉ. Category: Angst Content: breakup, crying, no explicit smut but it's heavily implied. Word Count: 1.3k

If you know me at all then you know that VÉRITÉ is easily my favorite artist at the moment. She has been for a while. This song came up on shuffle on my way home from Target on Black Friday, and between the gray snowy skies and the empty road I was on, immediately I had a vision and a feeling, and the closing chapter to Ficmas was here, in a messy, mournful little bow (even if it's one of the first ones you're getting...just work with me here LMAO) . I hope you've enjoyed your holiday! I love and appreciate you more than you know <3 Happy New Year!

-------------

It's not a surprise that the bedroom is dark when I open my eyes. I don't want to open them, but once I realize that he's still beside me, probably asleep, I know it's safe.

Still, it doesn't ease the dread I feel deep in my gut as my vision adjusts to the dark. Blue hues fizzle in around me as Spencer's shape starts to define, his features slowly fading into view. I'm surprised that he's facing me, to tell you the truth. At some point during the night, I would have imagined he'd finalize our end with the metaphoric turning of the back. In some twisted way, it might have been easier to get through this morning that way— not having to face him. But nothing in my life has ever been easy, so why should this be any different?

I don't want to lose him, anyway. I will, that much is certain, but if I can prolong it by committing his peaceful, resting features to memory as the last worry-free moment we share, then maybe it won't hurt as much in the end.

Please don't let that be wishful thinking, I plead in my head, over and over like a prayer. It's hard to imagine what I might find in his eyes when he finally wakes up, though it also occurs to me that he might wake up and refuse to look at me, pretending to sleep until I give up and just leave. Perhaps this is just as hard on him as it is on me...

A quick flashback of the blank look on his face as I came undone underneath him the night before, his name a hushed and desperate longing for redemption on my lips, makes my blood run cold; He didn't even enjoy himself. Last night was merely a formality to him, a parting of ways to leave me satisfied one last time. Whether or not he knows if it worked, I'm positive now—as I regain my memories of the last couple of hours— that he doesn't care. I remember now feeling it in every touch. Where he once was so careful and meticulous, last night he was lifeless. Not necessarily rough and unforgiving, but... indifferent. Talented and mission-oriented still, but that's all it had been— A task.

Still, as I watch him sleep soundly, I pretend that there had been some residual love resting there in our atmosphere amongst the indifference. It's the only way to keep me from bolting in shame.

At least, for now, I have this peace. This quiet and calm. In sleep, Spencer isn't indifferent. In sleep, he is here, with me. He is warm and present and not yet haunting. Here, in sleep, he is mine.

I resist the urge to reach out for him like I always have. I don't want to wake him and risk losing his warmth, though I long to feel it in full force, even if for a second or two. I try to recall his hands on my skin, hot and electric even in emotional stasis, and tears prick the back of my eyelids.

He shouldn't see me like this. I should leave. But I can't. I'm too selfish.

I suppose that's always been the problem.

Our last big fight before last night's events had been unresolved. I let him go to bed angry, too stubborn to apologize, and for days we just... fizzled. At first it wasn't cause for concern; unfortunately it had become routine for us after an argument to just ignore each other for a while until we became too restless, settling for a resolution through tongues and limbs and sheets. Sometimes a hot shower. But our cold shoulders only lasted a day before then.

This time it was three.

Part of me wonders if he wanted to hold on until the end of the year. It wouldn't surprise me. As much of a romantic as he is, I wouldn't put it past Spencer to have made this some sort of symbolic "final act" before purging himself of me entirely, leaving me behind in his past and using the New Year to look forward.

Part of me also wonders, though, if maybe I'm just that cynical.

He stirs beside me then, nearly startling me. My heart leaps out of my chest and catches in my throat. I'm forced to hold my breath, and I can't bring myself to close my eyes.

This is it. It's happening.

Spencer's eyes are warm and soft for a brief moment in time as he registers the face in front of him. My features seem to take a moment to fade into clear view, because once they do, that warmth is simply gone.

I almost start to cry. My breath hitches.

"You didn't leave yet," he says. A curious observation.

"I will... But I don't want to... Not yet."

I want to hold on just a little longer, I tell him with my eyes.

He blinks slowly and somberly. I understand.

When my knuckles brush his, he merely holds still, not reciprocating my search for cold comfort. He's already gone, yet he allows me to stay. He doesn't even look at me like he pities me. He just looks tired, which breaks my heart considering we'd just slept for hours.

I'd done that to him.

Hot pressure forms behind my eyes, and with a harsh blink, the floodgates open.

Tears fall silently down my face as I squeeze Spencer's hand. He lays there and watches me cry, and I feel miserable. I should have just left.

But I didn't.

I should have fought for him, but I didn't. I should have admitted that I was stubborn and wrong and sorry, but I didn't. Slowly but surely, I was getting spoiled thinking we could cure every problem with a kiss. I took advantage of his forgiveness one too many times, and now I'm paying the price as he watches me.

Eventually, I tire, too. My face is hot and my hand is sore from gripping his so harshly. The room has brightened a little more, but it's still quite purple and hazy. It's probably not even 6AM yet. The sun is rising, and yet I feel like I'm being drained of all my life force.

But then, after a few beats of solemn silence between us, I can finally speak.

I whisper it, afraid I might hurt him otherwise. In every other aspect of our relationship, I've been loud. My loving him was aggressive and possessive, my opinions brash and my expectations bold.

After all of that intensity, he deserves a little sweetness.

"Okay."

The word dismisses him— dismisses us. It built a lot of courage for me to muster it, but it had to be done.

Spencer doesn't say a word as he peels the covers away from his body and rolls over, breaking the spell, and my heart, in the process.

As he pads off to the bathroom and takes his warmth with him, I let go of a long, unsteady breath and follow suit, feeling soreness in every limb as I dress.

My legs shuffle heavily towards the door, miscellaneous belongings in hand, and that's when I hear the bathroom door open.

I know I should turn around and say it to his face, but... once a coward, always a coward, I suppose.

Still, for all the weakness and dread that overwhelms my bones, I tell him over my shoulder with sincere strength, "I'm sorry, Spencer."

I'm not even sure he'll respond. But he doesn't have to. He deserves to hear it from me at least once before we part. Not that it will do much, but I feel guilty all the same.

My hand twists the doorknob, and just as I'm about to close the door behind me, I barely hear his voice, warm and gentle as ever.

"I'm sorry, too."

----------------

Love I should've warned you I'm a stick of dynamite Threat of explosion Constantly strapped to your side

'Cause I'm afraid of losing Everything I'm ruining There's no getting used to The quiet you're leaving Is louder than screaming

So leave the clothes and mess we made up all on the floor 'Cause when we put them on we're not in love anymore 'Cause I know when we go, we're really gone

--VÉRITÉ, Gone

[kabr0ztrousers]

Kabr0z Writes Episode 3: A very bad idea, part 1

Find yesterday's entry here

CWs: usual gratuitous sex scene; demon summoning; serious dubcon, probably noncon when you think about it; heavy cumflation; horror themes; hyper-genitals; it's a lot today, folks

Author's note: Jesus H Christ this one got away from me. It gets good after about halfway but I feel like I spent too long setting up. Ah well, live and learn. I'm also trying something a little new where I'm linking the next few episodes together, so this one, episode 4, and episode 5 will follow on from one another.

There's basically no plot, so do what you want with that, but it's a fun thought.

With that aside, enjoy!

##########################################

It was a bit of a tradition now, whenever Heather was in town you'd get the lowest-rated book on a topic from the internet and take the piss out of it over a few bottles of your favourite red wine. Well, this week the wheel had spun, and landed on Demonology as a topic.

You thought about just saying screw it, and choosing another, but as you browsed the web for a terrible book, you saw it: "My First Book of Shadows" by Creedle and Crabnuts. The store listing alone was comical, from the pictures it looked like it had been printed out at home, badly trimmed to size and haphazardly stapled together. It was perfect. Two minutes later, and £5 lighter, it was on its way, predicted to arrive a couple of nights before her.

You leafed through the book when it arrived, barely a magazine really, and saw it contained what purported to be step-by-step directions to call forth a denizen of Hell, including a list of materials and guides to pronounce the chants.

Something about it... It called to you.

You don't know what came over you, but before you knew it you were walking around the high street, gathering incense sticks, candles, chalk, and a razor-sharp knife.

Heather arrived at your door on Friday evening, you had the house to yourself until at least Sunday afternoon and so we're busy in the living room. Your hands were covered in chalk dust in shades of white, blue, purple and red. The incense smoke was already filling the whole house with heady aromas of bergamot, cloves, camphor and myrrh.

She knocked again, snapping you out of your reverie. Still dressed in your dressing gown (robes are expensive, it turns out) you flung open the door and hugged your friend tight. "I have a surprise for you!"

"What? You've had the place fumigated?" Heather laughed, her voice lilting and sweet in the chill of the fading light.

"Better, come and see" you grabbed her by the hand and took her into the room where your circle lay, half finished, on the laminate floor

"Taken up a cult?" Heather's laughter hadn't stopped yet, then she saw the book open on the floor "Or started without me?" Mock-pouting now as she opened a bottle and started to pour the wine

You lent Heather your other bathrobe and as she pulled it on you couldn't help but see a small pile of her other clothes in the corner. Was she wearing anything under there? You guessed it fits the theme, and you'd been half hoping tonight would take that turn anyway, so you didn't say anything.

Together, you worked on the circle, both on hands and knees to trace the delicate runes and lines onto the ground. A few times Heather's gown rode up and the sight of her pink lower lips told you that, yes, she was completely naked under there.

You finished up, and knelt at opposite sides of the floor, gazing into the circle you'd drawn. Maybe a little smudged in places, but you weren't expecting anything to really happen as you recited the chants. The unfamiliar words felt strange to get your mouth around. As you came to the last few syllables you could have sworn the candles flickered, the incense grew more intense, the chalk lines began to smoulder. You raised the knife in your right hand and drew the point across your left.

That's when you realised your mistake.

The first drops of blood began to boil on your palm. The room became hot, and dry, like a desert wind blowing in your face. Gone were the scents of the incense, replaced with the smell of hot metal, searing meat, ozone, blood.

A noise, somehow the opposite of a bang. A dazzling flash. The guttering candles now ablaze and belching thick, black smoke that billowed down their sides like tar. You could see the fear in Heather's eyes, but neither of you could move. You were transfixed by what had appeared in the centre of the circle.

Too tall, too skinny, it hovered 6 inches off the ground. Spindly legs, 4 spindly arms, pencil-necked and sharp faced. Bald and with curved metal shards forming a shattered halo above its head. It blinked its four angular eyes and spoke with a voice that somehow echoed before you heard it

"Hail! I am Simizel! Viscount of the pit of Ashen Despair, Lord Commander of the seventeenth regiment of the Damned. Who are you to call me?"

You struggled to make any noise, throat dry and gasping for air. Simizel looked around at both of you, then down at the circle below him. "Wait, that's not right" he mused, "That's nonsense, that's spelled wrong, that's right, but in the wrong place, and..."

He looked at you

"It's a little irregular to ask, but what binding spell did you two use?" He was still looking at the ground quizzically as you rose to your feet

"Binding spell?" You croaked, eyes streaming

"Yes, to bind me, you know, so I don't just kill you both and go home?"

His eyes widened and his mouth grew into a wide smirk as he realised what had happened. He reached for the crumpled and charring pamphlet on the floor and skimmed it.

His smirk turned to a chuckle, then a laugh, then a cackle

"By my name! Someone thought they were very clever, didn't they?" He either couldn't disguise his mirth, or wasn't trying very hard "You just copied out any old rubbish and slit yourself open!"

A wave of his hand. You and Heather were floating in front of him now. "I haven't been amused like this in centuries. For being such fun, I'll give you girls some gifts"

He flicked his wrist and both of your gowns burned away, leaving you naked and glistening with sweat and fear

"First, if you want to try this again in the future, do it properly." He gestures at the book and it burns away, replaced with a wax-sealed scroll "That will summon an old friend of mine, just break the seal, read the words, and out he will come"

"Next, I'll make sure I don't leave behind any cambions" His clawed fingers etched patterns into your and Heather's skin. You tried to struggle against the pain, but your body was under his spell. In a few moments of etching, he had carved glowing sigils into the flesh just above each of your pubic bones.

He smiled, almost warmly, "Knowledge, and a boon, normally gifts like these would cost a soul, but I feel generous tonight, so I will simply take my fill of your bodies."

The spell keeping you aloft broke, and you dropped to the floor in a heap. You looked up at him and wondered how you could have missed it: between his pale thighs hung a pendulous, rapidly hardening cock. Your belly began to ache and your mouth water. What had come over you?

You started to crawl over to him, dimly aware Heather was doing the same next to you. Reaching up for this amazing rod as it grew longer and thicker than any human would have, flared at the head like a horse's and knotted at the base. You weren't sure how it was going to fit inside you

You knew you were going to make it.

You started kissing the end, as Heather began sucking on his gravid balls, each one the size of a grapefruit. Simizel cradled your face in his hand, fingers still bloody from marking you, then lifted you up with a gesture.

Upside-down now, you could see a rope of glittering precum hanging from his cock as it pulsed against your lips. You held out your tongue to try and taste it.

As soon as your lips parted it was in your mouth. You felt like your jaw would break. You didn't care. His tongue was at your pussy, licking your clit furiously and making you shake. You tensed up as you came, hips bucking against his face.

He pushed you down. The too-thick cock forcing its way down your throat and making you gag. You couldn't breathe. You still didn't care. You didn't care as you felt somehow even more tongues at your clit, invading your pussy, pushing into your asshole

He started thrusting. You felt as though you could split in half. Some dark power was keeping you conscious as you felt the end of his cock moving up and down in your belly. The thrusting got harder and faster until the knot was driven past your lips and started swelling in your mouth.

His tongues were still at your cunt. Your body squeezing against him as repeated orgasms rocked you. You could feel yourself squirting fluid into his face as he fucked your mouth open even wider

His cock must have been in your stomach now, bottoming out and stuck in you. You could feel it pulsing and could see his balls pumping in front of your face as your belly began to swell with the volume of fluid gushing into you. You tried to scream, in pain, in ecstasy, you're not sure, but the vast mass stuffed inside you prevented any sound escaping.

Heather was still cradling his balls in her hands as she kissed you, licking the base of his cock where it was jammed into your face, tasting where his fluids were leaking out of the sides of your mouth. Her eyes were empty but for lust as she rubbed her hands over her clit, her hips bucking erratically

The knot began to loosen and pull away from you. You felt hands on your hips lifting you from the demonic shaft as it pumped ever more into you, until it slipped free. You saw it hang, still pumping potent demon-seed and painting your friend's naked body in sticky, viscous white as she screamed her way to another full-body orgasm.

The world came back into relief and you realised you were panting and moaning, the tongues bringing you to your peak again and again. Pain rocked your body in between waves of pleasure as you came over and over, cum leaking from your mouth and throat as Heather stood below.

The demon wasted no time, repositioning himself under the two of you on the floor, one pair of impossibly strong hands on your hips as you rode his face, the other positioning your friend's ass over his impossible cock, still leaking and pulsing.

You heard her gasp and call out as it entered her ass, stretching her out and filling her immediately. Again and again he pushed in, her belly growing larger and larger with the size of him and the fluids he emitted. Your orgasmic cried mingled as your mind blanked and you passed out.

You don't know how long it was having its way with Heather, but when you came to you were lay on the floor watching it pull out of her pussy, her ass and throat leaking fluids and her gurgling moans of pleasure filling your ears.

Simizel looked at you and you wordlessly rolled onto your back, legs opened for him. He strode over to you, leaving your friend lying on her side in a pool of his semen and her own squirt.

He loomed over you and pressed himself against your aching hole. You gasped as it pushed in, stretching you around its immense girth. He was at your cervix already, and showed no signs of stopping. You screamed out as it pushed deeper in, lubricating its movement with a neverending stream of thick cum. Your eyes rolling as your orgasm rocked you again and again until he was again at the hilt. You weren't sure how much longer you could take it as he pumped litre after litre into you, the fluids spraying out of you even despite the knot holding him into you.

You passed out again.

This time you woke up and he was gone. Heather was where he left her. Sunlight was starting to eke in through the drawn curtains. You felt your belly, round and full, it sloshed around as you moved towards the bathroom to expel as much of the spunk left in your ass and your cramping womb as you could.

As you stood you felt the mark he left on your skin, it wasn't glowing now but still remained, red and cauterised by the heat of his claws.

You heard movement, Heather was awake and groaning. Her eyes met yours. They were still empty, there wasn't anything there but lurid desire. Your heart dropped as you lamented what he had done to her, before you realised where she was moving to

The scroll

She broke the wax and opened the paper before you could reach her on your shaking legs. She read the words and the walls began to shift.

A purple light suffused the room

You weren't done yet.

[faedotexe]

So i'm working on a tiny roll & write about being a giant dragonness and conquering the land and burninating the countryside and uh I'm kind of trying to make """"""art""""" for it lmao

chat is this cringe

[becca-e-barnes]

Bucky pinning you down so you can’t squirm and he’s just sitting inside you while he tortures your clit feeling you clench around him. He makes you cum over and over until he finally cums.

Overstimulation + super soldier stamina = …

- 🍯

Dear God, I know I just don't have it in me to behave during cock-warming. When it comes down to it, I genuinely have no patience at all 😵‍💫

"You..." Bucky begins, pressing you down onto the bed before gripping your ankles and forcing you to flip over onto your front. "Have a problem with control."

With your face turned away from him, you can't help but smile to yourself. No one has ever said it out loud but you know he's right.

Being in control is where you're most comfortable. No hands are safer than your own. Except maybe his. You know he won't fuck this up.

"And you..." He continues, gathering your wrists behind your back, holding them tightly with one hand. "Need to learn how it feels to have control taken from you. Do you understand?"

As soon as you begin to nod your head, you feel him start to tape around your wrists, holding them together behind your back. Once he's content they're secure, he sits on the edge of the bed, facing the mirror before he pulls you onto his lap.

"Legs spread over the top of mine." He orders and you do as you're told, not because you have to but because you want to.

You notice the way your cunt is already glistening in the mirror and you're almost embarrassed because he hasn't even touched you yet.

"Fuck, you're made for this." He groans, lining his cock up to your slick entrance and you wonder if he's holding his breath too while he slides into you, as deep as your bodies will allow.

You're obsessed with the sight in front of you; your own naked body, with your legs spread so far apart you can see how your cunt is stuffed full of him.

Being shorter though, your feet can't touch the ground like this. There's no way you'll get enough leverage to fuck yourself on him but as soon as you start to tell him that, he silences you with two thick fingers between your lips.

"I'm not letting you fuck me." His free hand roams over your body, squeezing your breasts, pinching your nipples and then settling between your spread thighs.

"I'm going to play with you. I'm going to see how much you can take. I'm going to work out exactly how you like your clit stroked and I'm going to do that until your legs are shaking and your body won't let you cum any more. Maybe then I'll fuck you but sweetheart, that will be hours from now." His breath is hot against the side of your face, his fingers slipping from your mouth to your waist while he starts to flick gently against your clit.

"I'm going to start slowly. I'm going to do everything I can to drag this out as long as possible. I can feel every clench and flutter of this pretty little cunt and I'm going to enjoy it until you're dripping over my balls." At this rate, it won't be long until you're dripping onto the carpet, never mind over him. You dreamed he'd want to take control like this but you never imagined the way your body would respond.

"And then, when you've cum more times than you can handle, I'm going to tell you that I love you while I fuck you like I don't."

Update: Part 2

[thesunisatangerine]

against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part four

alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader

warnings: explicit sexual content

(a/n in the tags) [parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve]

word count: 4.3k

It didn’t stop after the first and it sure didn’t stop after the third, either. 

Depending on her schedule, you saw Alexia once or twice at most a week; most of the time it was on the night after a Barcelona match and by the next morning, she’d be gone before you even woke up. But you’d noticed her visits had been increasing in frequency lately, not to mention that sometimes she’d still be in bed when you awakened. The first time you found her still asleep beside you, you were dumbfounded, thinking it was a dream image of her in front of you. And what amazed you even further was that it kept happening.

It wasn’t an unpleasant development. In fact, it was something you gratefully welcomed. And it wasn’t just that, either. Sometimes when Alexia came over, you didn’t even have sex you just… talked: about her training and her health, her teammates’ shenanigans–and hers, of course–her family and bits of her personal life. Meanwhile you told her about places you explored and showed her photos of where you’d been. Then she’d tell you about places you could check out, food to try, and even went ahead and promised to take you to some of the places herself when she had the opportunity.

These times were rare, sure, but you found yourself enjoying her company more and more to the point you noticed yourself craving for it–found yourself missing her presence despite your constant back-and-forth messages. And still you didn’t ask where this was going for fear of ruining whatever the two of you had; you were content and you just simply wanted to watch this unfold as it was. And anyway, it wasn’t like you weren’t used to fleeting relationships, situationships–whatever you’d like to call it–because who was to say this wouldn’t end up like your previous dalliances–ending before it could ever truly begin? Despite you hoping otherwise, a large part of you already convinced yourself that this wouldn’t be anything different: just another highlight to your getaway vacation that you’d look fondly back on a few years down the line.

You had a month left in Barcelona, maybe an additional few weeks depending on the client. What could possibly go wrong?

———

A knock took your attention from your work to the door. You looked at the time–it was early evening on a Saturday and you weren’t expecting anyone. Perhaps you just imagined it? But then it came again not a minute later. You were reluctant to open it seeing as it was already dark but a ping from your phone that signalled a message from Alexia asking if you were home had you flying to the door. 

Upon opening it, you found Alexia there with Nala resting in the crook of her arm, phone in hand, and a paper bag in the other. 

“Took you long enough.” Alexia said playfully, all cool and confident but then her brows quirked upwards almost sheepishly as she said in a more tamed tone, “is this a bad time? I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

You smiled at her consideration before you ushered her in. “No, no! It’s fine, really! Come on in. Sorry, I just wasn’t comfortable opening the door when it’s dark without knowing who it was.”

“Ah, it’s my bad. I should’ve let you know before dropping by.” She bent down and let Nala loose before she untied her shoes and left them by the door. Nala bounded to the living charged with curiosity, nose to the ground, tail wagging as she carefully examined the new space. 

Alexia regarded her dog with an amused expression before she looked back at you. “I meant to bring this over after the game tomorrow but I saw the lights as I drove past so… here I am, I guess.”

You reassured her again as you locked the door behind her and you watched as she made her way to the kitchen. As you passed through the archway to the kitchen room, Alexia already situated herself by the counter taking out glass canisters from the paper bag she brought. When she took the lids off, a delicious aroma instantly filled the air, enticing your senses.

“What do you have there?” You asked as you leaned on the opposite side of the counter.

Alexia smiled at the eagerness in your tone and pride shone in her eyes as she spoke, “only the best fideuà and esqueixada in the world. Made special by my mother, of course.”

You peered into the containers and the sight made your mouth water instantly. As if it remembered that you hadn’t had any food yet, your stomach grumbled obnoxiously. Alexia definitely heard it because she fixed you with an amused smile and at that, your cheeks warmed so you tried to divert her attention. “You know what would put this all together?” 

“What?”

“Wine or champagne. Wait–are you allowed to drink?”

“I’m allowed since I’m still not qualified to play yet.” Her visage became somber for a moment–it fleeted so quickly you almost didn’t catch it–before the light in them returned again. “If you have it, white wine is the best complement for this.”

You hummed and tapped your chin, turning to make your way to the cellar. “I’ll have a look. I’m sure Derek has some wine stored in here somewhere.”

You’d mumbled the last part but it seemed Alexia’d caught it because she asked, “who’s Derek?”

Something odd in her tone stopped you and made you look back at her. Her face was unreadable, almost too neutral. She didn’t think Derek was your boyfriend, did she?

“Oh, Derek’s my brother. He hasn’t been here for a while but he owns this house.”

“Ah, I see,” Alexia cleared her throat, looking away and you could just see a hint of redness in her cheeks. “Well, I’ll lay out the plates. I suppose they’re just in...?”

“The bottom drawer to your right and the utensils are in the upper one.” You instructed as you continued towards the cellar.

“Oh, yeah, I see,” came Alexia’s muffled response. 

When you returned with the bottle of white wine, you found that Alexia managed to locate the glasswares by herself and were drying them with a tea towel. There was only one set of plate and utensils laid out though so you fixed her with a confused look.

“You’re not going to eat?”

Alexia shook her head. “I already had my fill with my family earlier. I’ll take the drink, though.”

“That’s nice that you visited your family today. How are they?” You sat at one of the high chairs by the counter, popped the wine open and poured each of you a glass. You noticed that Alexia’d heated up the fideuà for you from the steam that rose from its container which strengthened its aroma and made it all the more enticing. Alexia remained opposite you but she was close enough with her leaning forward on her elbows, her glass of wine in hand.

She sipped her wine and told you they were well, described little snippets of what’s been happening in her family life. She even told you about a prank she recently played on her sister, one that nearly made you choke on your wine. 

You listened as she talked, liking the way her brows quirked and her shoulders move as she spoke, how each gesture became more pronounced the more passionate or interested she was on a subject. You asked questions and engaged with the conversation every now and again as you savoured the rich taste of the pasta and the freshness of the salad. You’d never had anything like it and you told her as much. In response, she said she’d give the compliment to her mother when she saw her next which made your cheeks warm up again. Once you finished, you tidied up and though you insisted she didn’t have to, Alexia helped you wash up anyway. 

Afterwards, the both of you ended up in the living room with your glasses of wine. She gestured at your laptop on the couch with her glass.

“Work?”

“Yeah. Just double checking if I missed anything important and preparing for the match tomorrow.” You sat on the couch and put the laptop on your lap. Alexia opted to sit on the carpet, legs stretched and crossed, back leaned back against the couch, her head just beside your legs as Nala settled by her side.

She turned her head, looking up at you. “Can I see?”

You turned your laptop so she could see better. You flicked through the photos you were sorting through, explaining to her every now and then the thought process behind each shot. On some photos, Alexia asked you to pause so she could soak them in.

“These are great. You have a great eye.” Alexia complimented with an appraising nod as you got to the end. You thanked her as you pulled back. Then a question came to mind.

“Do you ever get used to it? The cameras, I mean.”

A pause.

“I’m not and I don’t think I ever will. I’m more comfortable with it now but if it’s possible to avoid, I’d do it. I know it’s a part of football and god knows how much more exposure women’s football needs,” Alexia released a heavy sigh, “but sometimes it just gets too much, you know? I mean, I really should be grateful, right? To have gotten to this point? But the media side of it is… not without its own set of miseries.” 

There was an inflection in her tone upon her admittance–guilt. You gently carded your fingers through her hair, Alexia leaned into your touch in response, and you replied just as softly, “it must’ve been difficult. It still is and for you, especially. And I don’t know if anyone’s told you lately but you have to know: you’ve given so much of yourself already. It’s not a sin to want a little peace, Alexia, and it doesn’t make you ungrateful for wanting it, it just makes you human.” 

Alexia took a deep breathe before she rested her temple against your knee. Then you heard her whisper, “thank you.”

A silence fell upon the both of you after that but it wasn’t an uncomfortable one. She remained that way for the majority of the night, head against your knee as she watched a game of football on the TV. 

By the time you finished up your work, it was already late evening and Alexia’d dozed off beside you. You felt bad as you gently woke her up and groggy hazel eyes found yours when you did. The sight made your heart ache from how much Alexia looked younger and more at peace this way, and you told her to wash up so she could stay the night.

And she did.

Now, your cheek felt warm against her chest despite the slight dampness of her borrowed shirt from her hair. Her skin smelt faintly of the soap you were using and with her arm around your waist, you fell asleep content, lulled to a deep slumber by the steady rhythm of her heart.

———

“Hey, please don’t wear that, it’s dirty,” came Alexia’s reprimand from behind you.

You glanced at her reflection in the mirror: Alexia was propped up on the pillows against the headboard, an arm behind her head, nude except for the bundle of sheets that covered one of her thighs, the marks you’d left on her neck and chest last night and this morning generously displayed for you to behold. 

She was nothing short of glorious, you thought, looking relaxed and content like this. 

You turned your attention back to your own reflection: Alexia’s Barcelona jersey draped over your smaller frame and fell just partway down your bare thighs. It felt comfortable against your skin and the fact that it smelt just like Alexia made it feel all the more special.

When you looked at her reflection again, you found her with an affectionate smile, eyes lidded and brows inflected slightly upwards, and suddenly the attention warmed your cheeks.

“But you only wore it for a shoot, right?”

“I mean, yeah, but you know what I mean.”

You hummed, “do you need it?”

“No, I have spares,” she replied before she raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“That means I have time to wash it before I give it back since you insists that it’s dirty.” You said drily as you turned away from the mirror and padded your way to the bed, crawling on the sheets on your knees once you got there.

As soon as you got close enough, Alexia’s hands were immediately on you, guiding you to straddle her lap before she embraced you fully, resting her chin between the valley of your breasts as she looked up at you. You carded your fingers through her hair to see those fair, hazel eyes that never failed to make you shiver.

“I didn’t say you have to hurry. Plus… I kinda like seeing my number on you.” And then she was kissing your neck and you felt one of her hand creeping its way down to cup your ass. You gasped when you felt the heat of her fingers brushing against your core and you buried your own in her hair as she traced a path from your throat to your ear with her tongue, nipping at your lobe when she got there.

“Fuck… Alexia…” You moaned, “you’re insatiable.”

She kissed your shoulder and then she whispered, “only for you.”

———

Something flashed from the corner of your eye followed immediately by a string of whispered curses and a familiar whirring sound. You put your thumb over the line you were just reading so you wouldn’t lose your place before you looked over your bare shoulder to the corner of the room you knew Alexia was who you found, as expected, holding one of your Polaroid cameras. 

She was only wearing a pair of grey sweats which left her torso bare and–like all the time you saw her nude–you couldn’t help but appreciate the soft curves of her breasts and the carved muscles of her stomach. When she met your gaze, she smiled almost sheepishly at you not dissimilar to a child being caught stealing cookies from the jar.

You raised a playful eyebrow at her but instead of answering, she placed her eye over the viewfinder, aimed the camera at you, then pressed the shutter again.

The film came out with a whir and Alexia immediately tucked it into the pocket of her sweats. She then began to make her way towards you and at every other step, she’d stop to take a photo of you, carefully manoeuvring the camera to get the right angle as she did so. It was an endearing sight, really, and it was one that filled your chest full of warmth. 

Eventually, she ended up on you, turning you over on your back as she straddled your waist, leaving you at the mercy of Alexia and her camera. From this position, you couldn’t help but feel extremely vulnerable and exposed not because of your bareness, but because you knew with the way your chest surged with warmth from how Alexia gazed down at you with a satisfied grin, the dimple on her cheek showing as her tongue peeked out between her teeth at the corner of her mouth, seemingly focused on getting the right shot, that this was a woman who had the power to completely and utterly unravel you. 

As a photographer, you were well acquainted with how cameras had the capacity to capture the essence of a moment–to display in raw details the emotions of its subject and freeze them in time, readying them for the dissection and scrutiny of the viewer. You wondered then what Alexia would see written in the shadow, the light, and the colours in the photos she just took of you once she looked at them, and the thought both elated and frightened you. 

Alexia brushed away hair from your temple but as she was about to pull away, you put yours atop of hers and turned your cheek into her palm, looking directly at her behind the camera. You heard her breath catch and then she stuttered out a breath, and the flash barely registered in your mind because you were too focused on the strength and the warmth of Alexia’s hand as you pressed butterfly kisses on the inside of her palm. 

The next thing you knew, the camera was abandoned completely and you couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out from your throat when you finally felt Alexia’s lips on yours.

———

Alexia sat on one of the high chairs in the kitchen room, hair damp, a game of football on the mounted TV that was left forgotten in place of… something that you couldn’t quite see from this distance. Alexia’s shoulders were hunched over in concentration and you didn’t have the heart to interrupt whatever she was doing so you leaned on the archway, content with just observing her do her work.

“Are you just gonna stand there or would you care to join me?” You rolled your eyes and you didn’t fight the smile that graced your lips. So much for being sneaky–the fact that Alexia was an accomplished footballer who had crazy spatial awareness occasionally slipped your mind.

“Okay, Gwen Stacy, calm down.” Alexia looked over her shoulder then and stuck her tongue out at you, grinning. “How did you even know I was here?”

“Your reflection on the microwave.” She gestured to it with her chin and sure enough from this angle you were instantly visible especially with the white shirt you had on. The dark glossy surface almost made you look like a ghost.

Standing on your toes, you draped yourself over her broad back, arms wrapping loosely around her neck as you peered down. “So, what are we working on?”

“This.” 

A bracelet made of a dark-blue and red string that looped into itself with a singular, small gold diamond-shaped charm right in the middle, a vertical bar at the two corner points of the long edge of the diamond, dangled between Alexia’s fingers. She took your right hand and placed it in your palm so you could look at it: the bracelet was simple but it’s delicate nature made it all the more beautiful and elegant.

“Oh, wow, this is so pretty.” 

“It’s for you.” At that you looked at her, half-afraid that she’d feel the way your heart raced at her words against her back. 

You were so busy trying to find the right thing to say that you didn’t realise that she took the bracelet back until you felt the warmth of her fingers on your palm as she turned your hand over. You watched her as she wrapped it around your wrist, securing the tie. You turned your right wrist over and looked at the delicate bracelet, and something in your heart soared at the small gift. The fact that Alexia made it herself made it all the more special to you.

“Thank you, Alexia. I love it.”

“You’re welcome.”

That night while you were sufficiently warm nestled by Alexia’s side, naked except for the sheets, your head on her chest, a realisation hit you.

“It represents FC Barcelona, isn’t it?”

Alexia hummed in answer, the rumble from the sound a pleasant sensation on your cheek. Then she held your wrist in the space between her thumb and index finger, the width of her palm supporting your hand as she turned your hand just so so the gold of the diamond could catch the light.

“And what else?”

At that, you looked at the bracelet intently. The two bars: one and one–Alexia’s number. So she really was serious when she said she liked seeing her number on you.

You let out a small laugh, then you nuzzled her jaw as you spoke, “you little sneak.”

———

Minding her bad knee, you flipped the both of you over with a strength that even surprised yourself and with how Alexia’s brows raised high, you supposed it took her off guard, too. You settled your weight on her stomach and you bit your lip when you felt her abs tense against your core, and the desire in you blazed into a raging inferno that threatened to burn you inside out.

She grabbed your ass in both hands with a firm grip, making you gasp when her hold made you grind against her stomach, her eyes smouldering as she looked up at you. 

That look was your last straw; you couldn’t stop fighting your desire anymore so you let it swallow you whole. You fell forward, bracing your weight against your elbows as you craned your neck to kiss Alexia, rough and desperate, her lower lip between your teeth. The action rewarded you with a low moan, a delicious sound that shot heat straight down to your core.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Alexia gasped out between your relentless kisses.

“I like being on top,” was your simple answer whispered hotly against her ear, nipping gently at the soft skin there–teasing. 

Then it was your turn to gasp. 

Her fingers dug delightfully into your flesh, kneading your ass roughly before easing them apart with equal force. The harsh treatment caught you by surprise and the effect of it even more unexpected as you immediately melted against her, moaning her name helplessly against the crook of her neck. 

She knew just how to make a mess of you.

“Hmm, do you?” She asked coyly and then proceeded in a deliciously low voice that oozed seduction, smugness, and sex. “Too bad I’m still in control.”

“Fuck.” Your body answered for you in a full-body shiver. Her words turned you on to the brink of falling and you found no purchase as you slipped from the ledge.

It should be embarrassing how you could come without Alexia even fucking you, and it should scare you that she had this much power over your body but in this moment, when her hands were everywhere but your pussy and her filthy words were whispered hotly in your ear, you could care less. So you fell apart, shaking and weak, as you sank on top of Alexia’s firm and soft body, her name barely coherent from the sobs that came out of your lips. Euphoria lit every nerve in your body as you came, the fabric of your underwear latched deliciously on your pussy like a second skin and you were sure that you’d made a mess on Alexia’s bare stomach.

You only realised Alexia had stopped her teasing ministrations until you heard her thick voice through the haze of the afterglow which you barely caught.

“You came.”

It wasn’t a question, really, but you let out a small affirmative moan because what else could you do? You were mush–the intensity of your orgasm caught you off guard and left you floundering that no thoughts formed in your mind, just pure bliss and ecstacy. But as the veil of euphoria began to lift, embarrassment bled into the edges of your consciousness and with it the instinct to apologise. The words were poised at the tip of your tongue when Alexia moaned.

“Fuck, that’s so hot,” she breathed out and when you found the strength to lift your head to look at her, her eyes were lidded, pupils blown so wide they were almost all black.

And then she was pulling you in for a kiss, and then the wet heat of her tongue traced the edge of your ear, and she was nipping at your jaw while she dragged her palms from your ass to the side of your ribs. Your skin burnt at her touch and you could do nothing but surrender, to moan and whimper as your heat blazed anew despite having just been swept away.

“But this time, you’re going to come with my fingers in you.”

She didn’t even let the words sink in. Instead she wasted no time to slip her hand between your bodies and to push aside the fabric of your ruined underwear. Usually, Alexia liked to tease you and ease her fingers in you slowly as she sought as much reaction from you as she could, but the slick she found there must had been enough to satisfy her because she pushed two fingers in as soon as she found you. The thickness of her fingers slid in easily and you nearly screamed her name from the pleasure. 

She was relentless in her endeavour to make her words true with the way she gripped your hip steady with her free hand so you didn’t stray too far from her touch when you moved to meet her thrusts, the pace at which she worked her fingers in you left you lightheaded the same way her teeth on your neck worked to drive you insane.

“Alexia, Alexia, Alexia–” You chanted her name like a holy litany, burying your face into her hair that was now slightly damp with sweat and breathed her in: her scent of sun and freshly cut grass, of faint wintergreen, and an essence that was uniquely hers. The moment left you full with something heavy and warm, something that spoke of and hoped for forever, and clarity washed over you: this wasn’t like one of your previous dalliances anymore because you wanted more with her.

The realisation hit you hard, the gravity of it left your mind in a momentary stasis that when you came back to yourself, the shock of your orgasm knocked the breath from your lungs and you felt yourself being pulled by the tide. So strong was it that you could do nothing but pray the flood wouldn’t take you–that Alexia wouldn’t let you drown.

[aran-morinorea]

some extra diplomatic incident, because I finally gave in and swapped it to present tense and it's being so much nicer to me now:

Celebrimbor gives Elrond the wounded look of someone worrying that he is a terrible person who often makes a dear friend feel excluded or unwelcome. Tar-Glóriel gives him the profoundly offended look of someone who has just been confronted with the unending capacity people have for stupidity. He leans forward, literally heated with focus. “Lúthienhîl,” he says, “Your fucking voice.” Elrond stares at him, uncomprehending, and Tar-Glóriel gestures up and down at him dismissively. “The body is incidental. How am I meant to listen to you and hear an Incarnate?”

[groovygianniart]

Day 2. Blood spill

"Something about that painting always filled me with dread."

[practically-an-x-man]

I'm starting to realize that my writing that first Pluto fic may be tied to me trying to process Loki's cancer diagnosis