#my writing is so shit

[piggyinthesea]

Lest You Ache My Wrath| mv1

part one, part 2

wrd count: 3.1k

warnings: alcohol, unprotected sex, reunion of teen lovers, mention of std, restrained during sex, foreplay (f receiving), some angst, inappropriate language

~

The stars illuminated the night sky like the way she stood out from the rest. It’s terrible, he knows it, yet he’s forced to answer the knock on his window. She was daring, clearly adventurous the way she always climbed up the garage into his window - knowing she’s not allowed in his house.

“Max, I have to go. I don’t know when i’ll be back. I’m leaving the state tonight.”

“Don’t! Please. You can live with me, I’ll… ask dad.” He knows he won’t say yes, but he’s gone far too down the rabbit hole of love to let go of her.

“Our dreams will hold us together. We’ll meet again. I’m sure of it.”

-

-

Her mind formed an endless cycle of anxiety-inducing thoughts. It wasn’t easy building her life from the shambles her deadbeat father had left her in. Throughout her adolescent years, tears were shed and wiped from her soothing cheeks.

It wasn’t so terrible, often times she met kind souls who’d lent her a roof over her head along with kind commodities such as food and clean clothes. She was alone, most of the time, but within darkness, there was light that had a warm grip on her. She thought she’d never see him again.

Years passed since she left that particular area, and her mind formed a haze around the memories she had spent with him. Her mind began playing tricks on her, and after a while, she began thinking that those warm nights wrapped around him were just a hallucinogenic side effect that came from her traumatic experience.

Those memories, sadly, began to fade like froth on a window.

She began to live a relatively normal life once she reached her 20s. She didn’t live paycheck to paycheck anymore, not usually, at least. She finally had enough to buy her own car, a trophy she held dear to herself. It was a reminder of the overwhelming struggles she endured and surpassed. She had normal hobbies and purchased normal things, much like everyone else. It felt weird to her, knowing she could blend in with everyone else, despite having a not-so-common upbringing.

She worked as a journalist, with a modest brand, and served the entertainment genre. When her boss called her into their office unexpectedly, neurons began connecting and triggered a flurry of speculative thoughts- such as the act of termination. It wasn’t that at all, in fact, her position in the company had been moved from entertainment to sports journalism. It wasn’t a huge leap of a career path, but it led her to contemplate the sudden shift of promotion. If, you could even call it that.

She was quickly informed that the previous sports journalist had quit, seeking larger pay from a rival journaling company. It seemed similar enough to her previous work, but she opted to play it safe rather than being sorry and promptly piled up on information for her upcoming interview.

There was a lot of terminology she had not heard of before, which made her second-guess her qualifications for her interview, but a job was a job and if she had disguised herself to appear knowledgeable, she would.

It was unprofessional of her employer to send her off on a job that required a person well-informed in the motorsport “Formula One”. Nonetheless, she was there, with a tiny microphone clipped to her collared shirt and an iPad with suggested questions.

It was odd at first. Not because of the awkward nature of the beginnings of interviews but because of a certain familiarity she thought she felt when staring at the driver.

Unbeknownst to her, he felt the same. He chalked it up to the subtle undeniable attraction he must have felt toward the interviewer, but the longer he answered her questions in a haze, the more he felt connected to her. His mind wandered off, did he know her from somewhere? Thoughts flourished to endless possibilities until was abruptly snapped out of his trance.

“Kind of lost you for a second there, didn’t I?” Her charismatic voice easily ushered the awkwardness away.

He shyly laughed, “Sorry, I’ve just kind of been out of it. What was your question?”

The tension became increasingly clear throughout the interview. The questions seemed to never end, and that was okay because Max was focused on figuring out who exactly was sitting in front of him. Could it have just been a sense of faux deja vu that lingered in the back of his mind, or did he truly know this woman?

All thoughts perished as the interview reached the end. He met her eyes for what felt like the first time, and immediately he felt a magical stillness sweep all lingering sensations in its enchanting embrace.

A sense of realization dawned on him at that moment, and the memories of whispered promises came back, despite his previous failed attempts to have them buried and forgotten.

His mind can’t help the gravitational pull of the vivid memory stored at the back of his mind, aching to be released. An incandescent flash of light transports him to a younger version of his naive self.

Recounting it felt like a haze, but he vividly recalled the hypnotic pull of her eyes that had irresistibly drawn him toward her lips.

“I won’t ever forget you, schat. Even after many years, you’ll still be on my mind. Even if I lose my memories, the dreams I’ll have of you will always hold us together.” He said, his words floating through the air as he shed a small, barely recognizable, tear.

With that, he’s pulled back to reality, and he’s faced with a sudden endeavor. His PR manager calls him over, but he can’t help but ignore him while he searches for the woman who has miraculously disappeared instantly. He danced his way around the endless crowd of people that served no use to him. He sees her, finally, and rushes over.

Feeling a tap on her shoulder, she turns around, and though he has seen her before, he can't help but still be captivated by her eyes, even after all these years. He doesn’t know what to say at first, what could he have said?

Did she remember? Or was this all just a misunderstanding his mind despicably played against him? But alas, his worries are washed away when she initiates the conversation with alluring mannerisms.

Though her upbringing was anything but soft and sweet, she embraced kind gestures with ease. Almost doe-like, her head tilts as she coyly states, “Hey, I don’t wanna sound like a stalker, but uh, I think I know you.” She’s sweet, and though it probably shouldn’t have mattered, Max felt relieved she remembered him.

His breath hitches. He feels his body acting faster than his brain when he pulls her in for a warm hug. The truth is, she didn’t remember who he was exactly- until he welcomed her with a warm embrace.

“Max? It’s you.” Her brows furrowed while the gears in her head began turning. All those years believing the nights she spent with him were fake, only to turn out to be incredibly real, dawned on her.

He was quick to drop his celebration plans for her, insisting he fell ill to the challenging cold weather. It felt, different. In a way, it was strange talking to your high-school sweetheart but after a few words into the conversation, they effortlessly fell back into their close bond.

Later that day, they decided to meet at a small local cafe. The vibe set around it was homey, with the color palette of the restaurant being in neutral shades of brown.

“It’s so good seeing you, seriously. Like, where have you been?” Max starts off, enthusiastically as he skims through the menu.

She chuckles, “Where haven’t I been? But seriously, I’m glad you’re where you always wanted to be.”

“How are you? So much time has gone by, it feels unreal that I’m even seeing you again.”

Their conversation was cut short by one of the waitresses. After writing down their order, the waitress leaves and allows them back to their conversation.

“I’m doing great. I continued school, you know? Went to college, and got a degree in journalism. For a little while, I thought you were just something my mind made up to cope with everything going on. But, here we are.”

He grimaces, internally. He knew of the situation her younger self was in and even after all this time, he still felt a sense to shield her from everything; just like his younger self.

His coffee comes in, as well as her macchiato. The rising steam vanished, unveiling a delicate pattern in the milk atop her macchiato—a subtle and artful touch to the rich espresso. His coffee was plain black, a simple reminder of their opposite environments.

“That’s great, I’m really proud of how far you’ve come.” He offers genuinely, a sliver of longing evident in his eyes.

“Me? Look at where you’re at. You know, I only just learned this recently but, you’re a 3x world champion. That should overcome any achievement of mine.” Her words echoed a camaraderie feeling between the two.

“It’s not that impressive, but please, keep raising my self-esteem.” His words are filled with friendliness, adding a familiar touch of friendship to the air.

She smiles and sips on her macchiato as the two exchange subtle but longing looks.

Soon enough, their drinks are empty and though she strongly resists, Max pays their tab and follows her out the cafe door.

“What now?” She asks, not quite wanting the day to end.

“Well… I did just win a race today. I think I deserve a celebration. My hotel room has those mini shots we can drink if you’re up to it. Or has your alcohol tolerance dropped over the years.” The playful banter exudes a familiar memory between the two, from when they were young, dumb, and incredibly drunk.

“You’re on, tough guy.”

His hotel room was impeccably furnished, surpassing her expectations. The aura of luxury permeated the space, enhanced by the balcony's view as the sun dipped into a mesmerizing palette of red and orange hues. It seemed like second-hand nature for him as he shamelessly guided himself towards the stainless steel mini-fridge, grabbing as many tiny one-shot bottles of liquor.

“Like old times.” She said, eyes trailing the mix of alcohol as he dropped them on the king-sized bed.

He glances up at her, a devilish smirk smiling at her, “Bottoms up!”. The tiny plastic bottle handed to her was already opened, and she sniffed the substance suspiciously before downing the drink.

It stung as it ran down her throat, though she victoriously held her poker face. Max grimaced from the taste, just a bit, enough so that he wouldn’t be a victim of teasing. Realizing she was the only one standing, she found her place on the king-sized bed, unintentionally causing a rift of tension in the air due to the close proximity.

A few conversations and tiny bottles later, the two had sufficiently numbed themselves to the point of no return. To them, the room spanned around them as they laid still on the cushioned mattress. A variety of bottles had been littered across the floor, taunting them, as if they knew the pain they’d share the next morning.

“You, kn-know, I’m really glad I met you- again.” Max hiccuped between words.

Her body turned towards him, facing his enchanting eyes as she dwelled on the weight of his words. “I’m glad I met you too. I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.”

A comforting silence swept between the two of them, and though he normally wouldn’t, the alcohol gave him a bold boost of confidence as he innocently laid his hand on her cheek. The confidence was limited, he hadn’t yet dared to close the gap between them.

She read the longing aura he produced, and reached over to him, pulling him into a magical sensation as the two shared a kiss. It was passionate, but as she started to pull away, he pulled her back into a more risqué kiss. She caught onto the newfound energy, equally kissing him back with the same intensity. His tongue lapped into her mouth, exploring a territory he once knew all too well.

Tension impossibly heightens as he pulls her well-matured body closer while his pants begin to ache with a well-known sensation. The air was charged with a blend of emotions – passion, longing, and a hint of uncertainty. The past once shrouded amid fading memories, now resurfaced with vivid clarity. It was as if time had folded upon itself, bringing them back to a moment that had never truly left their hearts. Yet, as the kiss deepened, there lingered an unspoken question - what would this unexpected reunion lead to?

The chemistry was undeniable and unparalleled to anything else they had felt, a force that could not be contained pulled them even closer. Her body laid dangerously on top of his, and his hand seemingly burnt through her skin as they traveled down her waist. The tent in his pants was inevitable, she was far too seductive to his body. Her crotch glazed his cloth erection, and as though a flip had switched in him, he flipped her over and predatorily stared into her eyes.

“I need you to say you want this.” It’s a demand. His voice is dark and unamused, leaving a sense of sexual frustration in her.

“Please, I’ve waited too long.” Her whiny voice is laughable, and she feels like a lamb sent to slaughter.

He lifts his shirt off with ease, subtly inviting her to do the same, which she instantly does. It’s a game of haste that the two play as they scramble to completely undress themselves. She was bare and vulnerable - her seamless underwear being the only fabric on her.

His large hands cup her plump breasts, gently toying with the bud of her nipple. She pulls in his head for a swift kiss, nearly knocking the air out of him. He grinds onto her, flexing his chiseled jawline, as he embodies his soul into the kiss. Like an action in a script, his hands pin her own above her head, pinning her down as his mouth littered markings on her chest. Her body submits and she absentmindedly arches her back at the aching sensation.

One of his hands daringly dips down the hem of her underwear, as the other firmly held her pinned, and began rubbing circular motions between her wet folds. Her breaths became ragged, and the moans that left her mouth were timid and frail. The trail of goosebumps on her skin was like scattered dots among her skin. He ignored his own aching shaft - but it was okay, her pleasure was his.

His fingers worked wonders - a clear reminder of the practice he received with other women. However, it was different for him this time. The blurred past between them intensified the chemical-induced reaction and it heavily surpassed the average sexual encounter with women he did not know. The room seemed to fade around her as his fingers continued drowning in her slick; furthering her desires and inducing whines and mutters.

“Don’t leave again.” His words are firm and demanding with a mixture of hurt and anger lingering in the air. His pathetic self was tarnished and replaced with an aggressive, winner, personality - a stark contrast to the whimsical boy of the past. His finger dips into her hole, leaving her breathless with no time to respond, and curls around her flesh walls. Bodily fluids gradually increase, shamelessly, coaxing his finger in her own lubricant.

He slides his finger in and out of her whilst keeping a steady grip on her hands. His personality in the bedroom has changed dramatically - thanks to the women that had come along with the fame. He’s learned his kinks, and he’s more than enthusiastic to show you his gradual improvement. In the past, though it was unspoken, he knew he lacked the dominance one might perceive him to have. He was a foolish lovesick boy who was quick to beg and whine for an ounce of her sexual energy - with no complaints from either person.

His aura radiated a dark red color, a symbol of his dominance, while he shamelessly dragged her underwear down to her mid-thighs as he propositioned himself along her entrance. He slides his tip in - a meek whine escapes his vocals and he does nothing to hide it. Their breaths, now synchronized, are ragged and heavy. Her body willingly accepts more of him, urging for his all - and it’s more than acceptable because his shaft twitches at the idea of the fact that she needs more of him.

Her hands attempt to free themselves from his grip, and it only tightens in retaliation; a fair reminder of the strength difference. He starts by slowly thrusting into her, unintentionally but undoubtedly, carrying the weight of mutual sexual desires. Gradually, the passionate thrusts are replaced by aggressive fast-paced ones. One of his hands snakes down to play with her aching bud, subconsciously flaunting his improvements. It was a goal to show her what the new him could do. He nearly pities her, for she met the untamed and mediocre him.

His pace is brutal and his thrusts become sloppy. His breath is heavy; the sweat dripping down his forehead does nothing to help the increasing heat. A knock on his door interrupts them - causing a momentary pause as they share a look. Max locks eyes with her, and his pace increases, earning a shocked glance.

“Max? I know you aren’t feeling all to well, but I thought you’d like me to…congratulate you after a win.” A female’s voice echoes through the door with a laughable attempt at sounding seductive. Like a deer caught in headlights, he falters in his pace, refusing to gain eye contact with the women under him. Her gaze is strong and dangerous - he feels it.

One question flowed through her brain - who the fuck was that? Begrudgingly, she gave into her high as her cosmic orgasm shook the bones of her skeletal system. He gained momentum as his pace quickened, mercilessly abusing her sensitive folds.

“Maxie, are you there?” The foreign woman only seemed to agitate the situation further, and as soon as Max’s current lover felt a gush of warm substance in her, she peeled herself off him, dripping in his semen. She reclothed herself in a way that made it clear she was upset. Clearly, he changed in all the wrong ways.

Panic furls through him - he was put in a terrible situation. Had god truly not been on his side that day?

In a hushed tone yet malice tone, she spat out, “Should I get tested?”

He was in nothing but his boxers- an evident difference between them. “No, don’t leave. Please, I swear if you give me a chance to explain you’ll understand.”

“Fuck you.”

[inkskinned]

this is just my opinion but i think any good media needs obsession behind it. it needs passion, the kind of passion that's no longer "gentle scented candle" and is now "oh shit the house caught on fire". it needs a creator that's biting the floorboards and gnawing the story off their skin. creators are supposed to be wild animals. they are supposed to want to tell a story with the ferocity of eating a good stone fruit while standing over the sink. the same protective, strange instinct as being 7 and making mud potions in pink teacups: you gotta get weird with it.

good media needs unhinged, googling-at-midnight kind of energy. it needs "what kind of seams are invented on this planet" energy and "im just gonna trust the audience to roll with me about this" energy. it needs one person (at least) screaming into the void with so much drive and energy that it forces the story to be real.

sometimes people are baffled when fanfic has some stunning jaw-dropping tattoo-it-on-you lines. and i'm like - well, i don't go here, but that makes sense to me. of fucking course people who have this amount of passion are going to create something good. they moved from a place of genuine love and enjoyment.

so yeah, duh! saturday cartoons have banger lines. random street art is sometimes the most precious heart-wrenching shit you've ever seen. someone singing on tiktok ends up creating your next favorite song. youtubers are giving us 5 hours of carefully researched content. all of this is the impossible equation to latestage capitalism. like, you can't force something to be good. AI cannot make it good. no amount of focus-group testing or market research. what makes a story worth listening to is that someone cares so much about telling it - through dance, art, music, whatever it takes - that they are just a little unhinged about it.

one time my friend told me he stayed up all night researching how many ways there are to peel an orange. he wrote me a poem that made me cry on public transportation. the love came through it like pith, you know? the words all came apart in my hands. it tasted like breakfast.

[stealingpotatoes]

the illness post is still getting notes (???!! <3) and that means people are still telling me to get better soon, which is really nice but im gonna be too powerful if i get any better

[charbroiledchicken]

reblog if you're a writer but would rather drink straight cyanide than show any of your family members your work

[littlelightfish]

This... this is a whole different kind of psychic damage here. When nightmares got Marcille, we get to knew that her's biggest fear is outliving her friends. This isn't even canon probably, but look at this. This isn't a "I don't want my friends to die" kind of dream. This is a "I'm terrified of loosing my daughters, of something killing them, and being incapable of stopping it" kind of dream. It's so simple yet it explains perfectly the whole of chilchucks character. He loves, he cares, deeply. But he, or doesn't acknowledges, or doesn't know what to do with that knowledge.

Besides that. Someone had to wake him up after this. Imagine the devastation in this man after he wakes up. He just saw his three little babys murdered corpses (or maybe he saw them die, wich isn't better). He would possibly not talk about it, and that would worry the hell out of the party, because we'll, they see him all down and only one of them knows what he saw. Imagine being the one to pull him from that nightmare. Seeing this man, usually so composed, fuking staring with tears and terror in his eyes to the composes of what you can only assume are his daughters. It would be heartwrenching.

Idk, I love this man so much...

[cozylittleartblog]

Columbo and the Knight (1984)

put me in the universe where Columbo ran through the 1980s and had a crossover episode with Knight Rider. I think they deserved it, and I am not just saying that because they're my two favorite Old Shows. @telebeast wrote a little fanfic blurb about it and I HAD to visualize it into a comic (which is also the longest comic I have finished thus far at five pages...), so writing credit goes to them.

Autism W!

[howlsnteeth]

24/05/2020

[fraternum-momentum]

𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐑𝐀 𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐎 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐓:

♡ Aimée likes to present herself as an 'it' girl at school. She is a known exhibitionist in town, and is rumored that she gets around.

♡ Kleptomaniac. Pickpockets people during work hours and even during encounters. It gives her a little extra cash but she does have multiple jobs. Prefers stealing things rather than actually paying for them. Has been caught before but usually with a little bit of 'persuasion', she's able to get away scot-free.

♡ A sweet talker. (turns out paying attention in English class does have its benefits) She oftentimes tries to get out of a situation by finessing people. Her mouth is probably her best asset, in more ways than one :)

♡ While Aimée doesn't outwardly harass others, she enjoys teasing and messing with them. Silver-tongued, playful and witty, she finds that she enjoys pushing peoples' buttons, and seeing how they react after a measly few words is always a fun time. And if they fall for her somehow, then that's a major plus, breaking hearts is her favorite past time ♡

♡ In private, she is actually meeker than how she shows herself to be. However, she finds comfort in this persona she's created. Everyone knows that you're easy prey if you act shy and show any vulnerability, so she's learned the hard way to always take the first bite.

♡ By being promiscuous herself, it gives her a sense of autonomy in a way. In her mind, if she objectifies herself first, then she's taking away that decision people have over her body.

♡ Her arousal is kept high at all times so she can avoid overthinking, its a way to cope from everything. Sex is a great distraction. It makes her feel good, and all she needs to do is just focus on the what was happening during the moment, and on giving the person she's with pleasure that she's very happy to provide.

♡ Can't find herself to commit to anyone due to her fear of opening herself up to others. Sex is easy. To her, it's simple. And it's something she knows she's good at. Meanwhile, feelings and emotions are messy. It complicates a lot of things. But she can't help but get attached to some people. Whenever she realizes that she's getting too close, she distances herself and quickly moves on to a new person, minimizing the chances of any feelings developing further.

♡ This is where her reputation as a heartbreaker comes from. It's not actually something she actively likes doing, but it's a way for her to get even for what they had done to her.

♡ But no matter how many times she tries to convince herself, deep down, she knows this isn't how she wants to be. She does want to make genuine connection with someone. And despite being surrounded by (mostly unwanted) attention, there's still this lingering sense of loneliness that, no matter what she does, she can't seem to get rid of.

[quadrantadvisor]

Thinking about DP x DC Jason Todd being a revenant again. Here's my scenario. Jason gets called that by some ghost. He's like "what the fuck is that supposed to mean?" He's heard the term before but he doesn't know any actual lore. He googles it. He scrolls past the Leonardo DiCaprio bear movie. He opens the wiki. Sees the words "animated corpse" and gets a chill diwn his spine. He starts reading the first section.

He closes Wikipedia.

That night he has a nightmare that his family buried him, again, this time with precautions. He wakes up in his own grave, full of stones, too heavy to move, to scream.

[the-raindeer-king]

Imagine Simon's mom doesn't die with Tommy and Beth. Maybe she was out of town, or at a friend's house, and Roba's men were sloppy and missed her. Anyway, so it's just Simon and her now, and because he blames himself for what happened, he's pulled away from her.

He pays her rent, even if he wanted her to live in a nicer apartment complex. And he visits during her birthday and Mother's Day, and sometimes just randomly stops by. But he never stays very long, and he doesn't tell her a lot about his new life. It's a very one sided relationship, but she tries to make the best of it.

And then you move in next door, during one of Simon's deployments. You feel bad for the sweet lady that lives next to you. She never seems to have much company, and you take it upon yourself to befriend her, spending more time in her apartment than your own.

You learn about her ex husband, her sons, the tragedy, and most importantly, you learn about Simon. And you hate him. Mrs. Riley (she insists you call her Sarah) is such a lovely woman, and it's clear how much she cares about her living son, how hard she's trying to keep their relationship alive.

It's the second Mother's Day after you move in when you finally meet Simon. Your relationship with your own mother is complicated, so you've opted to spend the day with Mrs. Riley. You'd gotten her a small present, and had planned to spend the day drinking wine and watching historical romance movies.

You're thoroughly shocked when you knock on her door, and a man answers. Six feet, built like a brick house, but under his scowl, you recognize Sarah's eyes.

“You must be Simon.”

His scowl deepens, but before he can say anything, Mama Riley is pushing past him, pulling you into her apartment to fuss over you.

She apologizes for not telling you sooner, but your plans will have to be rescheduled. Simon's back early, and she can't waste a precious second.

You're understanding. You've listened to her worried rants, given her space to cry over how things have turned out. You know she loves spending time with her son, even if the visits are short and he doesn't talk much.

Simon doesn't miss the way you glare at him. There's a fury in your eyes, even as you cheerily wish his mother a happy mother's day. For a moment, he wonders if you're a spy. But that thought is quickly diminished, when you verbally eviscerate him at the door.

You're quiet, not wanting to upset his mom, but your anger is clear. It may not be your business, but Mama Riley is your friend, and you adore the older woman. And you cannot stand by while he treats her like this. She loves her son so much, and he needs to step up and try harder.

As you're chewing him out, Simon's already head over heels, planning your wedding as the seconds tick by.

(A/N: You can read this as a stand alone piece, but I did write 3 more drabbles (four in total!) for this! They're all on my blog under the tag mama riley au. Thank you for reading!)

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

[piggyinthesea]

•*.*

the writer urge of reading over your past works judging the fuck out of them only to realize they were only from a couple months ago and you probably still write as shitty as you did before.

[inkskinned]

i wrote an interactive poem for my girlfriend in 3 parts. she said you need to read it.

go here: take only the final quiz or take all 3. i don't mind. it's sad, though. this is a poem about choice. about fate and mental illness and how love fits inside of all of it. this is a poem about a long dark hallway. mostly this is a poem about mango sushi rolls.

good luck. i love you. despite it all, i'm hopeful.

[tthoroughfare]

trying to make your ex jealous by using ellie as a prop in your ig story hahahaha

she's been in front of your mirror for, like, ten minutes as you direct her on how to stand, how to put her arms around you. you laugh as you cycle through the pictures you'd gotten, ellie looking over your shoulder.

"ellie, these suck. you look so fucking awkward." none of them actually look like you're with a romantic prospect; it's painfully obvious it's set up, ellie craning her neck to hide her face and looking like she's petrified to touch you. you swipe onto a particular picture, zooming in on her hand. "also, in that one you can literally see your tattoo, you gotta pull your sleeve down more."

she automatically tugs at the sleeve of her hoodie, covering the ink swirling down from her wrist. "damn... yes ma'am. didn't realize it was that serious."

"well, otherwise she's gonna know it's you. and that'd be so fucking embarrassing."

she scoffs lightly. "kind of embarrassing faking photos to try and make someone jealous, anyway."

"oh, please. shut up," you retort, rolling your eyes. she'd seemed to be a little grumpy about the whole thing as soon as you asked her to do it:

"this is stupid."

"why does it have to be me? get dina to do it, she'd love this shit."

"you're so cringe."

you get back into position, gesturing at ellie. "m'kay, come back."

she shuffles closer again, hesitantly going to place her hands on your waist.

"this is why they look stupid, your hand placement's wrong." you gently grasp at her wrist, manually moving her right hand upwards and to the side, wrapping her arm further around you and allowing her fingers to rest just below your left breast. "like, you don't look like you wanna fuck me, you're just... standing there like you're at gunpoint."

"yeah, i am," she murmurs, looking down and gingerly pressing herself flush against your back. you ignore the comment, taking the back of her head and pulling it so that her chin's resting on your shoulder.

"don't worry if your face is in it, i'm probably just gonna crop it anyway," you comment as you snap another few photos, placing your hand over hers. she tries not to pay any mind to the way you subconsciously swipe your thumb across the back of her hand, the way it makes her stomach flutter.

you pivot your phone so she can see it whilst you flip through the new photos you'd taken. you're still running your fingertips over her hand, and she doesn't think you even realize you're doing it. "see, these ones are way better. they look way more realistic."

you go to take some more, and ellie hesitantly leans further in, nuzzling at your neck.

"wait, that's good," you begin. "pull your hood up, so i don't have to crop it."

blowing air out of her nose, she does as you say before returning her hand to its original position. she feels a little emboldened, borderline forgetting the whole thing is pretend as she presses a couple of tiny kisses to your neck; stopping when she feels you tense.

you pause before laughing shakily, trying to lighten the atmosphere. "method acting. nice."

ellie awkwardly laughs along, kicking herself mentally. she doesn't even know why she did it, where she mustered the balls. it was automatic.

you take a final couple, then pull away and sit cross-legged on your bed. she tugs her hood down, running a hand through her hair as she sits next to you, peering down at your phone while you flick through all of the photos.

"i think that one," you say when you stop on a particular image, pressing your thumb to the screen in emphasis. "it's hot, and you can't really tell it's you."

ellie pulls a face as she nods. "go for it."

your brow furrows as you notice her expression. "... what's with you?"

she shrugs, mouth downturning. "i don't know, i just think it's kinda stupid. why do you even want her back? she was, like... a dick to you."

"i don't want her back," you reply. "i just want her to see it and be like... 'oh, shit'."

"but, like, still... why are you even thinking about her?"

you sigh lightly, looking down at your phone. "i don't know... she fucked me over a lot, and now she's trying to act like she's doing all great and everything. just wanna give her something to feel... y'know, a little shitty over."

"fair enough," she replies half-heartedly. "i just don't even think you should care. you can do better."

you scoff. "well, it's not exactly happening for me."

she doesn't say anything back, just looks at you and shrugs, toying with her sleeve. there's a slightly uncomfortable feeling in the room as you meet her gaze, one you don't understand.

"so can i post it, or no?"

ellie's hands turn upwards in gesture. "sure."

"right," you respond, opening instagram and getting the picture up to put on your story, flicking through songs and deciding which one to add to it. she moves closer, watching as you do so.

"gotta be clairo," she remarks, to which you chuckle.

you post the photo, and resist the urge to check if your ex has viewed it every five minutes. ellie puts a silly movie on, and you actually manage to forget about it as you make commentary between yourselves, laughing along.

until your phone buzzes; dina's reacted '😂' to your story, and sent you a reply:

"that's ellie 😭😭😭😭😭 you fucking idiot"

you sit up as you open the messages, covering your mouth and scoffing. turning your phone so that ellie can see, you watch her eyes glimmer in amusement as she lets out a laugh.

"i'm taking it down," you say firmly, between giggles.

ellie raises her eyebrows, training her eyes back on the TV. "told you."

[lilislegacy]

i feel like we gloss over the first few pages of SoN FAR too much. i mean, take percy’s name out and i would think it’s all about hercules. the book opens by dropping banger after banger regarding percy’s recent escapades, as if this is some epic greek myth.

like how did rick just casually slip in that percy strangled a sea monster with his bare hands (no biggie) and we as the readers were just like “sounds right, anyway—”

[sweetpupii]

Hi! Do you take requests?

If so, I think a fic bases on this excerpt:

"she can't have her parents walking in again. poor cassandra…finding your daughter with her whole face buried in between a girl's thighs is not the most ideal situation"

of your cailtyn story would be phenomenal 🙏

If you don't, feel free to ignore this! :)

　let's start by saying caitlyn knows how to eat pussy and loves doing it :3 babe could have it for breakfast, lunch, dinner and even dessert. she wouldn't call herself an expert per se, but she's quite proud of her talent.

sure, receiving it feels good—but what's better than knowing you're making a girl cum with just your mouth? to cait, absolutely nothing. the moans, the hair-pulling, the thighs clenching against her head ♡ ugh chef's kiss.

( she came untouched a few times from it but you did not hear it from me ok? )

it's usually one the first things she does when you successfully sneak into her room. like a reward for getting through massive place she calls home without anyone noticing.

your back against the bed and legs immediately spread to expose the sight she absolutely adores. god, she could just stare at it forever and it'd still have the same effect in between her own legs. new panties are needed.

she doesn't dive in face-first like an animal the second your clothes are off, even if she does feel like a starved woman. she starts by slowly kissing your thighs and caressing any bit of skin she can, hand sneaking up your abdomen and ribs to massage your breasts a little—don't mind it.

“should I continue?” cocky because she already knows the answer is a breathy ‘yes, please’.

oh and she gets way more cocky once she finally starts working on you, soft and slow stripes and twirls with her tongue. nothing fancy yet; she wants to tease a little more.

the second your hips start bucking into her mouth though? girl, grab onto something because she takes the signs IMMEDIATELY.

legs propped up on her shoulder while her hands hold your hips down to keep control of them. the slurping sounds are almost pornographic with how sloppy she's being. no whine coming from you is gonna make her stop any time soon. she's enjoying it waaaay to much already.

if she's feeling nice she will add a finger or two while sucking ๋࣭⭑ curling them just right inside you, not in-and-out like crazy. her tongue’s already lapping at you pretty fast so no need to overwhelm you…yet.

she wishes you would look down at her for a sec to see that pretty expression better, but she also understands it's her own fault that your head is thrown back against the bed, clenching around her fingers while pulling at her hair. what a curse to be so good at pleasing girls.

she knew speeding up her movements wasn't a smart thing to do so late at night as soon as the loud whine that escaped your lips reached her ears. obviously louder than the previous ones.

the heavy thump on the door when it opened proved her right.

“caitlyn.”

of course it had to be her mother out of all people.

cassandra's eyebrows furrowed as she looked away with a small huff, trying to erase the sight from her mind by blinking and observing every detail on the window. she thought caitlyn was trying to sneak out and get involved with stuff she shouldn't like she had done in the past with serious cases or something, not this!

“It is 3 am; please take your… friend out of here.” a dismissive wave of her hand showed that there wasn't much room for arguing—none really because she's already out the door with a low mumble to herself before her daughter could say anything. tomorrow's talk is gonna be awful, that's for sure.

“just keep quiet some more, then you can go home, alright?” the blue haired girl softly whispered, leaning up and kissing the soft skin on your shoulder to reassure that you're not leaving until you get a few well deserved orgasms, her fingers already going back to rubbing small circles.

she's not gonna let a pretty girl leave her bedroom unsatisfied even if it means getting caught again.

masterlist

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Look what we've become.

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