#very connected on a regular basis

[not-poignant]

You have a very broad readership; do you still, like most ao3 writers, use writing as a way to make friends? If so, how do you manage both to make connections and keep from uncomfortable parasocial engagements?

(admitting: I like your work a lot, I have a similar interest in writing trauma and recovery, I would like to befriend you, but I don't want to bother you bc lots of people want to be friend with writers they like and there's no way you'd have energy for all of them!)

Hi hi anon,

So...this response might be disappointing, but I didn't use fanfiction writing as a way of making friends. That's not why I started, and it's never been the reason for me to be in fandom.

(Thoughts about friendship and stuff under the read more, it's pretty personal so no obligation to read. The TL;DR is I am bad at friendship and I also am not like 'most AO3 writers' (is that really why most AO3 writers write?) in the sense that I never wrote fanfiction as a way to make friends and it's very weird to me sometimes that people actually do this as a motive).

When I turned up in fandom, it was a very private experience for me. I didn't know anyone else locally who shared the same fandom/s I do. When I shared fanfiction on Livejournal, I did so to complete strangers who I never got to know better, or to people who were already friends through other interests.

I've never gone to fandom conventions (there's few here, and I have severe social anxiety. By the time I thought about going I was in my late 30s, and just felt like I'd be too much of an outsider even among fellow outsiders - again, I shared almost no fandoms or ships with anyone I knew locally, and no one I'm friends with / know in person reads my fanfiction). Fandom was always an incredibly isolated experience for me.

When I joined AO3, it wasn't with a view to making friends. I was extremely burnt out, I'd quit my previous job as a professional artist because I couldn't see a way of making the income work out, and I just wanted to write a very angst-filled story that would help me deal with my loneliness which I didn't see as something that would ever change. Writing about a character who's experienced centuries of loneliness was like 'cool, yeah, I'm gonna write about him.'

I did end up making friends, but it was kind of by accident! And not all of those experiences were positive. One person in particular became quite toxic and cruel towards me, and I experienced my first kind of encounter with...I guess what I would call the uglier side of fandom life and also just friendship and relationships. It took me a long time to recover from that experience (and to learn what emotional abuse is), and after that I shut down and stopped kind of making friends on the internet.

I have made friends through the writing since (they're usually the mutuals I also have on Instagram, or here, or people I've DMed in Discord etc.), but I haven't really sought it out actively and I think anyone who knows me well enough that we've private messaged a few times, also knows that I'm quite aloof and reserved, and that I will engage quite deeply sometimes but then disappear for a few months (or years) re: communication, which is a remnant of a period of time where I used to get sometimes 200 Whatsapp messages in 5 minutes from someone who expected me to be accountable to her every second of every day when she was awake and wanted me to be.

On top of like, severe social anxiety + PTSD, and being very reserved in general, I would also say I'm very time poor. I don't have much time for the friends I already have and care about. I often view myself as quite a poor friend, who is not good at starting and even worse at maintaining connections. I'm also very private. As in, I will happily tell the world I have PTSD. But I won't tell my friends in a private conversation when I'm having a bad night, and I don't give friends many opportunities to connect. Even with really close friends, this is an ongoing issue that I'm working on.

So as for befriending, that's extremely sweet of you anon, but who I am in my personal life is sometimes very different to like... the way I can respond in comments or to anons, because it's actually easier for me to talk to strangers sometimes than it is for me to talk to friends, lol. I honestly think some of the people I consider my friends don't even know that I do, because I don't really behave like one. I chat online regularly to one person only, and one other person intermittently (and they're a romantic partner) and that's it. Everyone else I chat to pretty rarely in DM. But I do turn up in the Fae Tales Discord every day.

I don't actually think lots of people want to be my friend, tbh? Not in a 'woe is me' way, but simply because I think some people do grok that kind of... polite distance or that sort of warm 'I care for a lot of people but I am also quite personally walled off' kind of way. The good news is a lot of the folks in the Fae Tales Discord also share a lot of interest in writing trauma and recovery, or have those experiences, and I know a lot of good friends have been made within the like...faedom itself. A lot of neurodivergent, trauma-focused folks have met each other through this writing, and it's really cool seeing the different friendships that have sparked up between people. There's a lot of extremely like... skilled, talented, interesting people that I've met through this job, who I admire, respect and want the best for, and am very happy to talk to.

But yeah I'm a bit difficult to befriend, anon, and that's been an ongoing thing all my life, tbh. But it did specifically get worse in fandom because of some early fandom experiences when I started out in Rise of the Guardians fanfiction.

[soullessjack]

ive had a Lot of thoughts about the body horror aspects of jack but the one that sticks with me the absolute most is his blood. like when sam banishes the angels from the holding cell in 13x01. ack’s veins light up gold. his blood is physically being burned from the sigil’s banishing effects and it actually causes pain to jack.

or nick’s resurrection ritual from game night that needed jacks own blood as an ingredient—and the implication alone that any of jack’s genetic components can bring Lucifer back—when he sets a nosebleed stain of it on fire several miles away, jack can physically feel it burning in his veins again.

when jack is constantly puking blood and bleeding from his nose it’s a result of total systemic failure that he’s suffering specifically because the very cells that make up his whole body are falling apart and destroying each other, because he is something that physically should not exist.

the fact that he physically and genetically cannot be normal or separated from his other half, that any sort of ritual or magic against angels causes him physical pain, that he will always at his core be tied back to Lucifer no matter how independent he tries or wants to be, that he can’t even survive without the very part of him that is essentially seen/treated as a dormant evil rabies infection, is an Insane thing to add to a character.

[triglycercule]

i love the name triglycercule so much i've even started calling myself triglycercule in real life. full four syllables no nickname no nothing. unfortunately triglycercule is in fact NOT a real name and something i just made up by smashing together the two science terms triglyceride and molecule. oops. but damn do i really wish that people called me triglycercule irl,,,, like my real name isn't bad its cool and special and unique but triglycercule is so much more ME!!! i like this name better (but nobody would take it seriously 🙁)

[poptartmochi]

dear god... suddenly emo about Magdalena and Isaac 😢😢

[secret-bug-pain-blog]

Fun fact about us! We have precisely No filter for "how much gore is too much gore", because we just... don't get squeamish about it almost at all.

Part of this effect is that we spend ages waffling over how to tag things because we just... don't have a point of comparison for things, and trying to find them results in us running into a lot of stuff we wouldn't consider gory at all being tagged as gore. We'll sit there like "this is a skeleton! this is bones!" and we'll feel like it must be, like, overtagged "just to be safe" type stuff, because, well, it's not gore, it's just a skeleton arm! Maybe a cartoony cross-section! It doesn't read as gore, it just reads as, like, cool character design to cartoon violence.

Part of this is that we'll click on things with "MAJOR GORE SUPER UNSETTLING CLICK AT YOUR OWN RISK" and end up just... underwhelmed. Like, we know in theory that we have a much better gore tolerance than most people, but in practice, like. It's utterly baffling to us that people will be that sensitive over blood. It's just, like... you're calling this "major gore"? It's one arm with a slightly messy disconnect! Like, sure, put a gore warning on it, but we expected more than just one slightly messy arm! They barely even look anything more than surprised about it!

[sideysvault]

ೀ｡˚ Patching Deadpool up years after he left you ೀ⋆｡˚

Pairing: Wade Wilson x fem!reader

Wordcount: 2,5k

Warnings: Canon typical violence and a bit of angst with a happy ending

────────

“The sisters Margaret home for wayward children” was the colorful name of the not so colorful bar where the two of you met.

Back then, you were nothing more than a student struggling to manage the very limited funding given to you to complete your masters degree. This situation cornered you into only being able to rent a decent apartment in the shittiest neighborhood in town.

That particular night was the end of an extremely rough week. Work piled up, homesickness struck you every time you had a chance to relax, and you were the living proof that no meaningful connections were to be made if you only strictly went to work and home. Back to back. No rest. Hell, she really missed home. And the crippling suspicion that you were close to breaking down was settling in.

The next logical move occurred to you just as you were walking into your neighborhood. You needed to blow off some steam. Have a drink. Or two. Or three. So, the woman redirected her steps towards that ugly bar that was close to her apartment. Sure, it seemed super sketchy. But right this second, all you needed was to get a drink.

Wade was in that bar too. As he usually was.

He immediately noticed this woman. She was clearly out of place. Dressed looked like some kind of stuck up librarian. She was really pretty too. And it was obvious that her mood was extremely feeling extraordinarily dispirited. You were just sitting there staring at the wall. Paying no mind to the environment you were in. The furrowed eyebrows adorned your face seemed concerned.

Before Wade even realized what he was doing, he found himself striking a conversation with you. He tried to reason with himself that it was only because he had a soft spot for damsels in distress. And because you were hot as fuck.

“What's a nice place like you doing in a girl like this?”

Strangely, that’s all it took to make you laugh. The absurdity of the corny comment got to you and a burst of laughter came out.

Wade’s face softened with pride when he saw he could make you laugh. The stuck up girl with a stick on her ass let out not a forced and polite giggle, but a showing all teeth and gums type of laugh. He tried to take all your features in. And a sense of warmth began to surface under his skin. He was the one to make your night better.

You’d visit that horrid place regularly. Only to see the charming guy who would make you laugh. Your little hangouts quickly evolved into something more. A friendship of sorts. He would walk you home when you stayed late working. “To protect you from all these homicidal freaks”. He’d take you on little private tours around the city, so it wouldn’t feel so foreign to you. The woman genuinely had a great time whenever he was around. And one late night, laughter became kissing, which turned into a hookup that later evolved into fucking on a regular basis and going out routinely.

Wade and you couldn’t be more different. But it seemed to be the key to your relationship. You guys clicked together, balancing each other out.

The realization struck you on a random day. You were in love with Wade Wilson. And he felt the same for you.

But just as things were getting serious between the two of you, one cursed night, he just decided to pick up all of his things from your apartment and leave. All he left behind was a tiny note stating that he had terminal cancer and that he loved you. And a little doodle of a heart with crossed out eyes and a tongue sticking out of its moth.

You were out working the first time he fainted. The woman was working as a co-author in an important research paper that was being published in some big shot magazine. He felt extremely proud of you. And, some nights he couldn’t believe that you were head over heels over a low stakes hit-man.

You were out working the first time he fainted. He ran straight to the clinic and never told you. He didn't want to bother you with what was probably nothing. But in that very same visit the doctor hit him with the whole terminal cancer ordeal. He knew you’d make a billion plans and extensive research. He knew you’d stay with him all the way through the end. Even if it affected your career, even if it would wreck you emotionally, even if your routine together was reduced to a mere nurse–client relationship, you would stay with him all the way. That was why he loved you.

So, he made a choice.

He was leaving before tarnishing your life, your memory of him and your time together with his sickness. He couldn’t do that to you. You actually had goals. And a promising future.

If he told you about the situation, Wade was certain he wouldn’t have the heart to say no to you. And you’d forever remember him as a lost puppy you loved but had to put down mercifully.

The other option was to be the asshole who left. But he could live on your memory forever. As the person he once was. So that was that.

——————

The woman decided to take a shortcut to her newly renovated home. She was wearing her favorite heels today. And they really weren’t walking shoes.

The scrappy and dark alleyway was well illuminated, and it would take her directly into the street her building was in. She decided it was safe enough to make a run for it.

She heard loud noises coming from the dumpster that was located just before being able to get out of that creepy lane. She was suddenly thinking of all the homicidal maniacs that asshole would go on and on about. But, also of the injured dogs people abandoned on the street. The woman got closer, swallowing her fear because something in there could really need a vet.

She immediately froze. There was a mutilated man wearing a red suit. Holy shit.

Just as she was stepping back and typing the emergency number on her phone she heard that voice.

“Bad Deadpool” it mumbled.

She heard some nonsensical phrases before she could hear a “Fuck. That was, like my favorite arm”

The woman’s heart began to pound so strongly she could practically hear it.

Deadpool hadn’t noticed her yet as he was losing a shit ton of blood and trying to balance himself upward without the missing limbs and several shot wounds. Not without a second thought, she ran to help him stand up. He turned around violently, holding a defensive position. But the man in the red suit stopped dead in his tracks when he saw you were the one holding him. This was not the neighborhood you used to live in.

You quickly take him back to your apartment. The woman knew it was him. The lame jokes had given it away. And that voice had haunted her for a long time. You’d recognize him anywhere.

You had heard rumors about the immortal vigilante. But never wondered who could be behind the mask. Certainly not the man you thought was long dead.

He still tried not to speak. He really really hoped breaking your heart had left you clinically insane. Insane enough to rescue random mutilated men off the street. As soon as you entered the apartment it became carnage. A trail of crimson red adorned your freshly painted white snow walls. Your shoes had been lost somewhere along the way, and with great effort you had managed to throw him into a bed that he wasn’t familiar with.

Fuck it. As if losing an arm and a leg wasn’t enough. This does it. This is breathtakingly fucked.

The shock left your body as soon as you saw your not-dead ex boyfriend mutilated on your bed. And shock was the only thing keeping you together. By that moment he was certain you knew it was him. Your eyes began to tear up at the sight of his wounded body.

But before he could try to get up, a pool of blood came shooting out of his mouth without much warning. It must have filtered through the mask because you somehow looked more terrified than before. He felt ditzy. And before Wade could do anything about it, you took out his mask on a whim to try to avoid him choking on his own blood.

And that was it. All that pain and running away meant nothing now. You had seen his face.

The woman was definitely taken aback. And he felt his heart break a little when she instinctively removed her hand from his face. You swallowed with difficulty, shook your head and got up. There were more pressing matters. You had heard things about the red vigilante regenerating. But you weren’t taking any chances. Not with Wade. Never again. It didint matter how fucked up he looked now.

He took the opportunity of you leaving the room to put his mask back on as quickly as he could.

As he was trying to process everything that had just happened, through the door he could see your crying face going up and down around the apartment. And there you were. Carrying it into the bedroom.

It was a massive (and fancy) emergency kit you had saved up for back in the day. When he was still beating bad guys for money and living with you. She had kept it. And kept it perfectly stocked.

Wade couldn’t lift his gaze to meet hers. But he noticed that the woman seemed relatively unfazed by his new look now. Or by the fact that she had seen him lacking two limbs and with some extra holes. The tears had stopped but she was still mortified. She always knew what he did for a living. But he always managed to keep it out of home. Or at least he tried to. Never to this extent. You weren’t used to it.

After all he had faced, he thought he did not need any care anymore. Just his healing, getting high and his unicorn. After all, his body would mend all the damage he had done to it and grow itself back together. But it still hurt.

And you still tried to make it better. You begin to patch him up as best as you can, taking your time disinfecting, sewing, and fixing him. He knew you well enough to be sure that you were trying not to gag at the sight of the wounds. And he appreciated it.

When you finished, you softly traced your hands on his bandages. He was honestly too tired to talk. And you were still too shocked. How the fuck is he still alive after those injuries? What had happened to him after all these years?

Without saying a word you got up and went straight to the kitchen. You returned with his favorite tea, some soup, and all the analgesics you could find.

Your kindness gave him courage to stop being such a weak pussy and actually talk to you. You had seen him. You wouldn’t want him anymore but the worst had passed.

“So… Sorry about your walls. Didn't know you had a fancy place now. I would’ve totally died in another alleyway, I promise. And sorry for, you know, the character shattering abandonment”

He coughed some blood. You just furrowed your eyebrows and as slowly as you could (So he could actually stop you this time if that was what he wanted) you removed his mask again.

The woman looked straight into his eyes

“You are a fucking asshole. And I fucking hate you. And I’m so glad you are alive”

“I know, I know. And thank you for going all mother Teresa on me. Oops. Wrong comparison. But I’ll be okay in no time. It’s hard to explain. But I will do right by you and paint your walls when my leg and everything grows back! Pinky promise. I’ll also buy you new shoes. It’s kinda gross that you are footless. Or, is it?…”

“Oh my lord, Wade. Just shut up and get some rest. Eat when you feel better. And scream if you need something”

And just when you were about to leave the room he softly said “Hey. I’m sorry. I… I didn't want to bring you onto the whole cancer show. And then everything got fucked. I couldn’t let you see me like this. I’m a monster now. Inside out. I would have never left if there had been a way of staying without ruining your life”

You just looked at him for a long moment. Tears began to appear in your eyes, threatening to come out again.

As soon as he saw it, he immediately tried to lighten up the mood.

“Hey, how long have you been obsessed with me? Still keeping that old thing?” He said as he gestured at the now empty emergency kit.

He didn't have the heart to explain to you that it was a waste in him. But you weren’t stupid.

You said nothing in response to Wade's dumb joke. Hearing him talk that way about himself hurt your soul. You couldn’t help it anymore, so you walked towards the injured man with tears running down your face.

“Y/N, there’s no need to cry. I know I belong to a fucking circus but this is getting a little offensive”

He finally gets a chuckle out of you. You smile at him and wipe out your tears. Wade winces slightly when you get closer to him, and you gently press a kiss on his forehead.

He feels ashamed of the tact his ruined skin probably had on your soft lips. it has truly been so long. You notice how he reacts. So you put your hands around his face and gently kiss each of his cheeks, and then the bridge of his nose. As tenderly as you can.

“I’ll go now before you make some lame joke Greek kiss joke. Get some rest. We’ll talk in the morning. I know you are sorry.”

“Just no more running away in the middle of the night. Okay?” Your voice sounded more serious now.

He softens. He really missed you. As much as he liked Al’s old ass this was his true home. Even after all these years. Even after what he did to you. Even with how he looked. Wade was certain he would sleep soundly for the first time in years. He was safe now.

“Never again, baby. I promise.

“I’ll do right by you. Okay? We’ll be besties with a ton of disgusting unexplored sexual tension in no time and who knows where that could lead to”

You laughed again. And there it was. His favorite sound in the world. It sounded just like the first time he heard it all those years ago.

“By the way, you do owe me those heels. And white walls. You pinky promised. Oh, and the biggest fucking explanation of the century.

“Sounds like a start to me”

Notes: OMG my first big one! I’m excited to post this. I hope it makes sense, if it doesn’t, feedback is always welcomed! -Sidey xxo

[cosmicconversations]

Sex Tips for 8th House Placements 🔥

(18+)

SUN IN THE 8TH HOUSE

Get into role playing on a regular basis. The more you can tap into a sort of “character” during sex, the more expressive and uninhibited you will be. Also, you might really enjoy making sex tapes or just taking nudes. You can turn it into an art form.

MOON IN THE 8TH HOUSE

While there is nothing wrong with casual sex, you are better off not having it. For you, sex with someone you are intimately connected to hits SO much better. Also, you get off on setting a distinct mood in the bedroom, like playing sexy music or having seductive lighting.

MERCURY IN THE 8TH HOUSE

Verbal is a huge deal for you when it comes to sex. You get off on having a partner that is vocal and can say all the right things to drive you wild. Sexting or having a racy phone/video call could also really help create that build-up to the act. Be open to trying various sexual things, as there is a whole other side to your sexuality just waiting to be unlocked and explored.

VENUS IN THE 8TH HOUSE

You are such a giver in the bedroom that you need to insist on reciprocity, especially if you have a more feminine energy. Make sure your pleasure is a priority to your sexual partner. Although you may love going down on them, receiving oral sex or any other kind of service can be the key to getting you off. Also, sex is like a form of affection for you in romantic relationships. So, you’ll need a partner with a similarly strong sexual energy.

MARS IN THE 8TH HOUSE

You may not be fully into sex unless it is somewhat (or very) rough or aggressive. Sex is an opportunity for you to let all of your intensity out. So, you will love it fast and hard, on either end. It could be sexy for you to have somewhat of a power play in bed. A consenting battle for dominance will really turn you on.

JUPITER IN THE 8TH HOUSE

It could be necessary for you to go through a “hoe phase”. You’ll probably find it very liberating and it may change certain ideas or beliefs you had about sex or going about your sex life. But, of course, stay safe! In general, the things that get you off sexually the most could be the things that society’s sex-negative conditioning has told you to suppress or deny.

SATURN IN THE 8TH HOUSE

You find it very sexy to feel really in charge in the bedroom. But, this also requires you to truly own your sexual desires and not shy away from them. You have some repression to work through but that only makes your sexual side more powerful when it breaks through. It could both scare you and turn you on to explore S & M to various levels or degrees.

URANUS IN THE 8TH HOUSE

This is possibly the most “casual” placement to have in this house. Yet, although you may love having a fuck buddy, you can still feel possessive over them. They are your friend with benefits, no one else’s. Even in a relationship, you find it a turn on to open things up. Three ways or swinging or orgies or anything poly could be right up your alley. And you might even shock yourself by how much you enjoy it.

NEPTUNE IN THE 8TH HOUSE

Let’s go ahead and say it: you might get off on having sex on substances. Whether you’re high or “drunk in love”, it can really elevate the experience. Of course, so long as it’s something you’re consenting to. You also might feel very turned on by playing a submissive role. When you totally surrender to your sexual partner, you reach a new level of connection.

PLUTO IN THE 8TH HOUSE

There are many sexual desires and fantasies you have that you wouldn’t speak aloud or admit to. But, those are the very things you need to explore in the bedroom. A very hidden side of you can emerge during sex and you need to allow yourself that kind of catharsis. You find it hot when there’s a bit of possession or control over one or the other, often with handcuffs or ropes.

[pierregazly]

in the mind of another ꨄ max verstappen

max verstappen x fem!soulmate!reader

warnings: mentions of sexual themes (no smut), pining/yearning for another, tiny bit of angst but hea! [wc is 5.4k]

in which soulmates always have a way of building the connection with one another. for you and max, you've always been the voice instead the others head, the one thing that has always been a constant presence. but will that voice inside your head, ever be the voice you hear from in front of you?

By legal terms, a soulmate was defined as “person with whom one has a feeling of deep or natural affinity.  This may involve similarity, love, romance, platonic relationships, comfort, intimacy, sexuality, sexual activity, spirituality, compatibility and trust.” In today’s day and age, more often than not, your soulmate was that of romantic origin, a person you yearned for on a regular basis. 

It was something instilled in you at an early age, that everyone had a soulmate, but not everyone met their soulmate. Everyone had a way of interacting with their soulmate before they met. You learned early on, very early on, that you could interact with your soulmate through your mind. Through words, pictures, even internal conversations. But sometimes those interactions would lead to nothing, and your parents tried to ensure you were aware of that in the fear that you would be heartbroken one day.  

One thing you could never do was tell them your name, who you were, or where you were until it was time. It was like your mind would go elsewhere when you tried to tell the male on the other end who you were. He told you the same thing happened to him every time he tried.  

The both of you spent a plentiful amount of time interacting in your shared youth. He would often ramble on about his day, about go-karting, and his dad who he kind of hated but obviously loved, about his mum who he missed, and his sister who he couldn’t wait to see when she came to visit him wherever he was in the world. 

You would do the same, you’d tell him about the things you did that specific day, explain little things about your family, the things you looked forward to for the remainder of the week. It was something you both just got used to. 

The both of you grew up together. Even if it wasn’t physical, you were an emotional tether for one another when either of you needed it. He was there for almost all of your firsts, your first graduation, your first familial heartbreak, your first crush, your first boyfriend (which he was eager to help you through when it ended).  

Ever embarrassing to admit, he was even the one in your mind, more times than you can count, when you felt the butterflies in your tummy growing as your fingers explored different parts of your body. He always pushed you to continue, telling you exactly what he would do with his own fingers, or his own tongue; when he finally got the chance to make you feel the way you were making yourself feel. 

It was something you didn’t speak about after it happened, but it didn’t change the fact he was usually the one your brain went to when you made yourself feel that way. He argued it was the soulmate connection, that your soul just simply wanted him to be the one to do it. 

As time went on, the conversations dwindled amongst the two of you, both of you growing up and growing out of the fantasy that you would meet your soulmate one day, meet each other. 

You still got glimpses into his brain occasionally, pictures of blue and red cars, racecars are what you presumed. His fingers on what looked like a controller, but turned out to be a steering wheel when you asked him what it was. 

“Seems like a bit of an extravagant steering wheel, no?” 

The silent laugh was loud in your mind, as if you could feel his body rumbling in its laughter at your words, “Pretty extravagant, yeah. Not everyone gets to use something like this, though.” 

“Explain the steering wheel to me, there’s too many buttons and toggles,” you prompted him, knowing full well it would dive him deep into an explanation about the object you so often saw inside his head. 

That was another thing you learned about him early on. He liked to explain everything. He used to spend hours describing the go-karts he drove every weeknight and weekend, putting as much detail and emphasis into his explanations so that you would better understand. As time went on, so did his explanations, explaining situations he’s found himself in around the world, explaining how his career was kicking his ass but how he loved it, occasionally getting drunk and explaining how soulmates worked and that it was inevitable you’d meet one day, even if it felt like that day was never coming.  

Not wanting to be the one to burst his fantasy and ruin whatever hope he had, you would usually just nod along and silently hum to him when the conversation of eventually meeting one day was brought up. 

You still shared nights together, even from thousands of miles apart, your brain yearning for him as his did the same. 

There were moments in time, where you were positive you had almost met him, or perhaps had made eye contact with him. It was a small feeling inside of you, like everything you were looking for was in the same building as you, or around the corner, or even in the same city. 

Usually just as fast as the feeling appeared, it was gone. It never lasted for long periods of time, it was like your soulmate bond was teasing you, pushing for you to reinstate your faith in the connection. He always argued that if you lost faith in the soulmate bond, it would lose faith in trying to push the two of you together. 

Yet another thing you learned early on, whoever he was, arguing was in his blood. If he disagreed with you, with something you said, or with an opinion you had, he would go off into a whole explanation and argument about why he knew you were wrong, and how he knew he was right. 

It was endearing, how passionate he was about everything in his life, and seeing how his passion for everything just continued to grow as he grew up.  

Over the last 8 years, you had learned not to even attempt to communicate with him on Saturday or Sundays. He had told you that it was the busiest time of the work week for him, and that he couldn’t handle internal distractions on those days. 

You would only speak to him when he spoke to you on those days. Usually it was a fleeting ‘have a nice rest of your weekend’ or ‘I can’t wait until you’re here with me, celebrating this with me’.  

He never elaborated on the last part, and you never went out of your way to ask. Whoever he was, he was usually celebrating something on Sundays, at least that’s what you assumed from the raw happiness and elation that usually went through your connection on those days. 

You hadn’t heard from him, from your soulmate, in weeks. Which wasn’t necessarily unusual, either of you could cut off the connection for weeks at a time if things were stressful in life, or if you just needed a break from the never-ending person that was inside your head at all times. 

It didn’t mean you didn’t miss his dry sense of humour, the bluntness with which he said things to you, the never-ending arguments about the stupidest things. You would never admit any of this to him, though.  

Ignoring the yearning-feeling from inside of you, you allowed yourself to think about how things would be if you ever met the person on the other end of the connection. Would it be instant happiness? Relief? Joy? 

People always explained their own experiences to you, saying it was like love at first sight, but amplified so significantly, because it felt like your soul was complete, like everything was finally where it needed to be in life. They described it as meeting the one thing that made you whole, the one thing that made you continuously push to be your best self, to continuously push to be better at everything you did in life.  

You truly couldn’t believe what they said, not that it sounded exaggerated or silly. It was just difficult to imagine anything causing a feeling so instantaneously and intense as what they described.  

Your friends had disappeared earlier in the day, eager to try and find themselves different drivers throughout the entrances to get photos or autographs with. You really had no interest in any of it. Your soulmate had eagerly admired, and shit talked almost every single person on the grid to you, at least once or twice, so it really wasn’t worth trying to interact with any of them after that. 

Your paddock pass sat heavily on your chest, the lanyard rubbing against your neck as the bright Sun shined down upon your skin. The cheering of the Tifosi could be heard throughout the entire fan sections. The Ferrari faithful were dedicated, especially at their own Grand Prix. 

He had told you that Monza was one of the ones not to miss. That it was electric, regardless of who you drove for, even if the fans were booing your favourite driver, or your favourite team, it was a delight to drive in Monza. 

You found yourself staring at the different drivers names that were wrapped around the seating section. Charles Leclerc, Carlos Sainz, Lewis Hamilton, George Russell... Max Verstappen. 

He was handsome, that you could admit. With his pretty blue eyes, and his arrogant little smirk, and his annoying obsession with having to win.  

“Oh, you think Max Verstappen has pretty blue eyes, huh?”  

A small sound erupted from your chest as you listened to the words floating through your head from the man you hadn’t heard from in weeks. 

“Look who’s alive! Thought you got lost with your little controller steering wheel.” 

Laughing at your words, “You didn’t answer my question! You think Max Verstappen has pretty eyes?” 

“I think Max Verstappen himself is pretty. Other than when he’s being an arrogant prick.” 

That feeling had been eating at you all day, again. Like your soulmate bond was trying to force you to go in a direction you weren’t understanding. It was like it was trying to tell you that he was here, that he was so close you could almost smell him, almost touch him. You had been ignoring the little jabs inside of you all day, refusing to acknowledge the fact that maybe, just maybe, the person you were yearning for so heavily, was so close. 

“My soulmate just called me an arrogant prick, without realizing she was calling me an arrogant prick.”  

The Brit in front of him guffawed, his whole body moving as he gripped his side at Max’s words, “Mate, how did that even happen?” 

Shrugging his shoulders as he looked at Lando, “Not too sure. I haven’t heard from her in a few weeks, figured she had shut the connection off for some time alone and all of a sudden, she’s thinking about how ‘Max Verstappen has such pretty blue eyes’ and then told me that I’d... or he’d be attractive all the time if he wasn’t such an arrogant prick.”  

Patting his shoulder gently, all Lando did was grin at him, “Just think, mate. At least whoever she is, she thinks you have pretty eyes and that you’re good looking when you’re not being an arrogant prick.” 

Max shoved him as he walked by, walking away in the direction of his driver's room. He had been having that feeling again, like his body was yearning for something that it couldn’t explain to him. He had tried to ask a few people about it, had asked Sebastian in the past if it was something he had experienced before meeting Hanna. Of course, Seb hadn’t been much help when one considered the fact that he and his soulmate had met in their shared childhood. 

It wasn’t something he could ask either of his parents, both admitting long ago that they weren’t destined for one another and that they had never had a connection with their true soulmates, which allowed them to willingly marry each other. Victoria had met her soulmate and now husband when they were young as well, so she would be of no help. 

He was almost embarrassed to ask Christian, or any other older person who had already met their soulmate. He was a grown man, he could literally just google it if he wanted to, but what exactly would he type in? 

What is that weird yearning feeling I get every now and then, out of the blue, in random buildings or random cities? 

Max was almost positive the answer would be ‘allergies’ or ‘hunger’. He figured that maybe it was soulmate related, it would make sense, but it wasn’t a feeling he had often. It wouldn’t make sense to only yearn so heavily for your soulmate in certain areas. 

It was always the strongest when he felt like he was truly connecting with you. He noticed it for the first time when both of you had touched yourselves to the sound of the other, egging one another on, saying exactly what the both of you know the other wanted to hear. Max couldn’t deny how much he enjoyed that time with you, how intimate it was, how much he craved to be the one making you moan and whimper. 

The feeling always grew after that, the yearning for the other person, the desire to have you there with him, the desire to have you underneath him after a night of celebration, the desire to have you wrapped in his arms, the desire to send you an unnecessary bouquet of flowers... if he could just figure out who you were, all of that would be possible.  

But the yearning today was different. It was like his body was trying to tell him he needed to go somewhere, trying to encourage him to walk down halls he didn’t usually walk down, or trying to push him in directions that made no sense.  

“You gonna tell me why you’re thinking of Max Verstappen so much today, and why you’re thinking so much about his pretty blue eyes?” 

He could feel the involuntary smile reach his lips when he heard your soft laugh. He really tried not to be someone who was smitten with a person he had never met, but he couldn’t deny that he was in love with you, likely had been since the both of you were young.  

You were the one constant in his life, the one person he could always turn to when he needed someone. You listened to all his ranting, dealt with hours upon hours of ‘Maxsplaining’, dealt with unnecessary outbursts and temper tantrums, but you never complained about it. You always eagerly pushed for him to continue, asking him more and more questions, prompting him out of his head and prompting him to get over whatever frustration had pushed him over the edge that day.  

“If you must know. I’m at the Monza Grand Prix, and I had to get away from all the Ferrari fans for a bit, pretty sure they were going to blow my ear drums. Max Verstappen’s name is everywhere, so I, of course, had to internally acknowledge his attractiveness while grimacing at his name in front of me.” 

Max felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest. You were here? In Italy? At the Monza Grand Prix? The same place where he was, at this very moment, at this very second?  

He could tell you were waiting for a response from him to your words. It was like he could sense the raise of your eyebrows from the silence that emitted between your connection.  

“You’re in Monza?” He questioned eagerly, his hands sweating as he waited for a response 

“Yes sir, just about to try and force myself to go find my friends and head back to the paddock so I can avoid getting trampled by any other Ferrari fans.” 

Max knew almost instantly that, that had to be what the feeling was. The yearning. You were close by, and his side of the soulmate connection knew it.  

He had tried to tell you who he was before, had tried to explain it to you in words that the connection wouldn’t muffle or meddle with. It never worked. Any time he tried to explain to you who he was, or what he did for a living, it was like his brain malfunctioned and he had to hotwire it back on. 

You had told him the same thing happened to you every time you tried to explain to him who you were, or the easiest ways to find you in the real world. Every time either of you tried, it was like the connection was shutting it down. 

Daniel had told him it was likely the bond, telling him it wasn’t the time yet, that the both of you had to wait until the bond was steady and ready for you to finally meet in person. Max had never believed it, until right now.  

You had never been able to tell him exactly where you were before, at least, not that he can ever remember. You had told him the things you were doing in the past, had told him the people you were spending time with, even that you were getting dinner in certain districts. Any time you had tried to tell him the restaurant, or the city even, the connection would malfunction. 

But you were just mentally able to tell him where you were, you were internally able to tell him where you were going in the place that you currently were. 

“I’m... I’m in Monza too. At the Grand Prix, I mean.” 

He could almost feel the instant shock and excitement at his words. Before he or you could get the chance to say anything else, he heard GP calling for him, the annoyed expression on his face an indication that he had been looking for Max for far longer than he actually wanted to be.  

“I have to get back to work. Please, don’t leave before you hear from me again. Maybe this is a sign.” 

You could practically feel the shock coursing through your body. Both of you were here. In Monza. At the Grand Prix. At the same time, together... but not together? You tried to contain the giddiness at his words, a silent hum in acknowledgement when he told you not to leave. How could you leave? Especially now that you knew he was here? And that he was working? 

It gave you some indication as to why he was always so busy on Saturdays and Sundays, if he worked for a Formula 1 team, or for Formula 1 in itself. Their biggest days of the week were the weekends, especially during race weeks. It made sense why he could never talk on those days of the week, or why he always seemed so happy or moody on Sundays. 

You couldn’t believe that both of you were able to tell each other where the other was, that the connection finally allowed you to give that little tidbit of important information to the other. Maybe it finally was time, maybe the connection was finally allowing you to meet the one person you had been yearning for, even if you tried to convince yourself that you weren’t.  

The text message to your friends asking where they were garnered a response, which prompted you out of your train of thought. Letting them know that you were on your way to their location, your brain moved back to the previous thought your mind was on. He was here, like truly here. Within the same 10 kilometers as you. Probably the closest either of you had ever been to each other before. 

Your friends greeted you eagerly when you finally found them, excitably telling you all about the drivers they had met, how Alex Albon even recognized two of them from previous Grand Prix and how they just knew Charles Leclerc was going to win today because the Tifosi were going crazy and how could you not win with all that support screaming for you? 

Nodding along with a smile on your face, you had an inkling they were wrong. Max Verstappen was likely going to get his tenth win in a row, but you weren’t going to say that to them.  

The drivers parade went by faster than you were expecting, before you knew it, the cars and their drivers were lining up in their respective places along the grid. Your friends eagerly itching for a better view of the upcoming race. You couldn’t even put the effort in to pay attention, wondering where he was right now.  

Was he working? Was he one of the mechanics? One of the pit crew, eagerly waiting for their driver to pull into their spot? One of the engineers, hoping their instructions and their drivers did as they were supposed to? You tried not to let your mind wander to the other possibility, but it was hard not to. 

What if he was one of the drivers? One of the 20 men now pushing themselves around the track at the fastest speed their car could take them? You tried not to stay on that thought too long, but your mind seemed to wander back to it.  

It would make sense, really. Whoever he is, he had been karting since he was a boy. His father had been unnecessarily forceful with him about it, always pushing him even when he was down, telling him that champions didn’t cry and that if he wanted to win everything one day, he had to act like he wanted to.  

He always made it seem like he was on top of the world on Sundays, like everything he ever wanted had happened that day. Would a mechanic, or an engineer, or someone from the pit crew consistently have that level of elation on Sundays?  

You knew it was possible, if they were working for a winning team, or a winning driver, and that driver was making their lives as easy as possible, then you knew it was definitely a possibility. You just couldn’t shake the idea that maybe, just maybe, it was one of the drivers. 

The crowd was cheering as eagerly as they possibly could, Verstappen had overtaken Sainz three laps prior after the Spainard had led for 15 laps straight. The Tifosi were relentless though, cheering as loud as they could for their two drivers. Your friends had resigned themselves to the fact that Verstappen was getting his tenth win in a row, which was slowly coming closer and closer as the time ticked down. 

It felt like time was zooming by; the minutes on the clock trickling down as the stadium waited for that last lap to start. Sainz was battling to keep Leclerc in fourth, doing everything in his power to keep the third podium spot he had rightfully earned. 

The checkered flag waved as the Red Bull car of Max Verstappen passed the finish line, a simultaneous cheer erupting within the crowd when the two red Ferrari’s passed the line with barely a second apart. 

That feeling inside of you, the yearning, it had been getting stronger and stronger throughout the race. Strong enough that you had to rub at your chest with a grimace more than once, ignoring the signs that obviously your soul connection was trying to give to you.  

The television in front of you showed Max Verstappen on the top of his car, both hands and 10 fingers up as he stared at the moving camera, an obvious celebration beginning as he ran towards his team. Verstappen jumped at them, right as you heard his voice in your head. 

“Where are you right now? I want to see you. I need to see you.” 

He sounded out of breath, but elated, as per usual on a Sunday. Must work for Red Bull then, you thought to yourself. 

“I don’t really know how to explain where I am, I’m in the Paddock Club with my friends.”  

Turning away from the screen, you tried to focus on the words coming through the connection. 

“Come to the area where you can go towards the garages, I’ll have someone tell security to let you in. What are you wearing? I don’t think you’ll be able to tell me your name yet, and I don’t want to risk fucking this up.” 

You had absolutely no clue how to find the area he was describing to you, explaining to him that you didn’t spend most of your time at Grand Prix’s unlike someone, apparently. All he did was laugh joyfully, explaining to you in simpler terms how to get to where he wanted you to go. 

“I have to go do a few more things, but just wait for me, okay? I’ll come to find you, the moment I’m done. I swear.” 

“I’ve waited for years; I think I can wait a few minutes more.” 

He didn’t verbally respond, but you could still feel the happiness, the sense of something you could only describe as adoration come through the connection before he shut it off again. It was obvious he had commitments, but it was disheartening knowing you still had to wait a few more minutes, that he wouldn’t be there waiting for you, behind whatever security guard you were going to have to verbally grapple with to be let behind the barricades. 

All you told your friends when you left was you had to go make a call, and that it may take a few minutes. They tried to argue with you, telling you the drivers were just about to do their post-race interviews and that it was always one of the best parts, but you simply brushed them off, eager to get to where you needed to be. 

It didn’t take you long to find where he had told you to go, his explanations as thorough and necessary as they usually were. Before you could even get a word out to the security guard, a tall brunette in a Red Bull shirt lightly tapped your shoulder and gestured for you to follow her, flashing her entry pass at the guard and pulling you along. 

“I’m Liv. I work in PR with Red Bull; I was told to wait for you. Sorry for just like... pulling you along. No one really gave me any explanation, just that I was told to look out for someone wearing the exact same outfit you are, and that it had something to do with a soulmate thing and I couldn’t get involved or ask questions.” 

“This pass will get you in and out of pretty much wherever you need to be in the Red Bull garage and areas nearby,” the brunette rambled on as the both of you walked, pulling a second entry pass from her back pocket to give to you. 

Both of you stopped in front of what only could be the hospitality lounge, if the plethora of food and drinks were any indication. You didn’t necessarily know where to go, or where to stand, so you looked back over at the brunette with confusion evident in your eyes. 

“Just wait here! He shouldn’t be long. Feel free to snack, or make yourself a tea, or you know... drink whatever really. I have to get back to work. Just like, don’t leave. I’ll probably get in trouble for that. Anyways, bye! Good luck!”  

Not giving you the chance to respond, Liv, as you learned previously, turned and basically ran out of the room. You were left alone in the hospitality area, everyone from Red Bull obviously still celebrating Max Verstappen’s tenth win in a row. 

You didn’t know what to do with yourself, deciding to sit down on one of the couches being the only real option you could decipher. The television was on low, the interviewer speaking to Sainz, Perez, and Verstappen. 

“You look eager to get out of here, Max. Big celebration planned for your tenth straight win?” 

The Dutchman chuckled, a cocky grin prominent on his face, “I have something I have to do after this, of course, though, not the celebration right away. I’m sure the team has a celebration planned, but it’s a bit arrogant of me to be involved in my own celebration party planning, no?” 

The interviewer laughed in response; you simply cocked your head at his words. Ironic that Max Verstappen would call himself arrogant, just hours after you had told him how arrogant you found Verstappen.

A few more questions zoomed by; your own thoughts preoccupied by the idea that your soulmate could be coming towards the room at any minute. The feeling in your chest, in your body as a whole, had grown substantially again since you sat down. What you didn’t notice was him grabbing his chest at the same time you did, rubbing it with a grimace as the yearning grew and grew. 

It didn’t take long for the interview to end, the television going back to the reporters as the drivers evidently went to go do whatever it is they do after their post-race interviews. 

You could hear someone walking down the hallway, which was strange considering how busy the Red Bull garage had to be right now. The steps grew louder as they got closer and closer to the room you were in, the door slamming open being the only thing to pull you out of your thoughts as you spun around. 

Making direct eye contact with your soulmate for the first time was exactly how everyone described it. It was instant, the feeling that seated itself inside your heart, inside your mind. It felt like you were whole, like everything you had done in the past 24 hours, let alone the past 10 years, had led you to this exact moment. 

You subconsciously moved off the couch, stepping in the direction of the man that was now eyeing your every move. You couldn’t tell what was going through his mind, whether he was happy, disheartened, you didn’t know. 

He stepped in your direction, just as you put another foot towards him. You could see the corners of his lips turning up, a smile starting to edge itself onto his cheeks.  

“I can’t believe you’re really here. In front of me. Like, a real person.” 

It was the same voice that you’ve heard in your head for years, except the words were coming from the mouth of the man in front of you, coming from the mouth of the man with the prettiest blue eyes you had ever seen. 

You barely had time to process anything before he had wrapped his arms around you, pulling you directly into his chest as you wrapped your own arms around his body.  

He was real. Everything you had yearned for, for years was real, and Max was right there, holding you in his arms as he pressed his lips against the crown of your head, not wanting to let you go. 

Max could barely contain his eagerness as he basically sprinted down the hall of the Red Bull garage after the end of the interview. Olivia had told him where she had brought you, telling you to wait in the hospitality lounge and that he’d be there to see you as quickly as he could get out. 

He couldn’t believe that you were really there. After spending years of talking to an invisible force inside his head, years of having a constant companion who he could turn to for internal comfort, you were barely seconds away from him. 

Max didn’t hesitate to throw the door of the lounge open, making eye contact with you just a second later. 

Everyone was right, the feeling you get when you finally meet your soulmate, the person that’s supposed to complete you in the best of ways. It was instant love, instant happiness, a feeling better than any win he had ever accomplished, a feeling that could barely be explained in one million words.  

He knew right then that he loved you, and when you smiled at him, he knew you knew it too.  

i am obsessed with the soulmate trope so this obviously got out of hand and way more descriptive than i intended. im hoping you all love it as much as i loved writing it!! let me know what you think

my requests are also open :)

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if you're interested in being added to my taglist, just send me a message/reply and ill add ya. i lost my list of who asked so if you weren't tagged and wanted to be pls let me know. (if your name has a strike through it, it wouldn't let me tag you)

[munsonluhvr]

where might an enemies to lovers but reader only really pretends to hate him because she thinks he hates her and she can’t stand that because he’s so kind and nice with everyone else but her and then one day after him just being so mean to her whether it was joking or not she just breaks request get me

A SERIES OF MISUNDERSTANDINGS

thank u for this request, I hope u like it! it's such a cute concept bc I can actually see a scenario like this happening w Steve in real life. also, once again, I used a movie to influence the one-shot.. this week it's a scene from twilight where Bella and Edward are in biology class hahaha. shout out to everyone who gets it.

synopsis: king!steve harrington x fem!reader - sfw. after seeing steve be kind and nice to everyone except you, you crack and confront him. word count - warnings: bullying (?), kinda rude, stereotypical king steve. light cursing.

There he is. So sweet, so kind to everyone but you. You watch from across the hall as Steve greets his friends with a slap on the back, offering a friendly smile. The girls of Hawkins High provide flirty smiles, small handwaves in Steve’s direction as they pass by; giggles falling out of their perfectly glossed lips when he returns the pleasantries. It makes you sick to watch; you roll your eyes in response to the scene playing out in front of you. 

You turn, swiftly unlocking your locker to switch your textbooks out for your next class. Laughter behind you causes you to turn and looking over your shoulder, watching as Steve leans against a row of lockers, telling a story animatedly. Just then, Steve glances over in your direction, his eyes connecting with yours. A passive looks brushes across Steve’s face, his eyebrows furrowing as he makes eye contact with you, the corners of his mouth turning downwards.  The group standing all around Steve towards you, their eyes following Steve’s. They look equally displeased, wondering why Steve is looking at you and not them. 

You turn quickly towards your locker, slipping your biology textbook out and shutting the door of your locker shut. As you walk away, towards your classroom, you hear snickers following you, Steve’s voice low and critical. You clutch your textbook to your chest, wondering what you did to Steve to hate you. 

It was only recently that you began taking note of Steve’s behavior towards you. It was very simple and clear – he was nice to everyone else but you. You racked your brain, attempting to figure out why Steve would be holding a grudge towards you, you two didn’t typically interact on a regular basis, so the reason why remains unknown. 

You trudge forward, heading towards your next class. You sigh to yourself, thinking how Steve is also in this class and you will be forced to face him once again today. You make your way down the busy hallway, dodging past people who are in a hurry to get to their next period. In only a few minutes, you make it to your classroom, greeted by a low murmur from the students that already are seated. You take a seat in the backrow at the lab tables that serve as your desk. 

You bend forward in your seat, keeping your head down. This is your last period of school, the relief of being able to go home on the horizon. All you have to do is make it through Biology. Unfortunately, life has other plans for you today. 

Chatter begins to pick up suddenly and you assume it’s either your teacher or Steve. You peek through your lashes in the direction of the classroom entrance – it’s Steve. After lingering for a few seconds with other classmates, he sits himself on the other side of them room, but not without one last glance in your direction. Your eyes flick down as his eyes take you in briefly, and you shift uncomfortably in your seat. 

“All right class,” Mr. Lewis, your biology teacher, says. He shrugs his jacket off, folding it neatly over the back of his chair.  “We’ll be doing pair work today. I’ve already made the pairs, if you all want to come up and see who you’re working with.” 

Stools squeak against the floor as your classmates scramble to Mr. Lewis desk to see who their partners with. You don’t move, you know who ever you’re paired up with will find you. In the front of the classroom, you hear people giggle with excitement that they’ve being paired up with their friend. You sit patiently, head bent over your biology textbook, waiting for your partner to come join you. 

You hear a cough, someone clearing their throat, right beside you and you look up, the feeling of dread filling your stomach as you make eye contact with Steve. “We’re partners, I guess.”

You say nothing, turning back to your textbook, breaking eye contact with Steve. Steve sits beside you awkwardly, silence setting in between you uncomfortably. Tension makes you feel like Steve is a million miles away even though he’s right beside you. Your head begins to ache, wishing the hour-long class would end quickly. 

Once everyone is settled in their seats, with their new partners, Mr. Lewis begins to describe the task at hand – looking at different cells through the microscope and organizing them into categories. Already you’re bored to death. 

Steve sighs, reaching out to pull the microspore that sits at the end of the table between both of you. “Let’s just get this over with,” Steve mumbles under his breath. 

You look at Steve, pushing down the emotion to yell out and ask him what you ever did that made him hate you so much. You clench your jaw, feeling the muscles tense together. Not having a shy bone in your body, you pull the microscope in front of you, taking the slides that Mr. Lewis passed out to each table, and placing one under the lens. “I’ll just do it since you’re always late to this class and probably don’t even know what a cell is supposed to look like under a microscope.” 

Steve gapes at you, your abruptness sudden. “I-I know what a cell looks like, y/n.” Your heart flutters to your dismay; you hate to admit it, but the sound of Steve saying your name is heavenly. 

You scoff, pinching your eye to look into the microscope. “Uh huh.” 

“Whatever, this assignment is bullshit anyway.” Steve says, running a hand through his hair. Steve leans onto the desk, his eyes wandering around the classroom, looking at how everyone else is progressing through the assignment happily. Steve attempts to stay preoccupied, distracting himself from the way his heart beats rapidly as he sits next to you. 

Silently, you work by yourself to organize the cells correctly, ensuring that you get it right. Steve, on the other hand, sits beside you silently, his eyes trained away from you. 

You look up, distracted, as Heather, one of your classmates and Steve’s biggest fan, turns in her seat. “Steve?” she says, her eyelashes fluttering. “Did you finish already? Wow, you’re so smart.” You can’t help but roll your eyes, Heather’s attempt at flirting with Steve failing miserably – at least to you. Steve leans forward, a large grin on his face as he drinks up Heather’s compliments; disregarding the fact that you sit beside him, doing all the work by yourself. 

You listen as Steve flirts obnoxiously with Heather, and you start to really see how different Steve treats you compared to everyone else. He’s so friendly with everyone, yet so dismissive of you. You sigh, louder then you expected to, and Steve glances at you but says nothing. 

In the front of the class, Mr. Lewis claps, signaling that the pair work is over. One by one, he goes through the correct order of the slides, and you’re pleased to find out that you did it all correct. Class continues, uneventful at most, and you notice how tense Steve is sitting beside you, his long legs confined to the narrow stool he sits on, his body leaning away from you. You frown, attempting to pay attention to class. 

Once class ends thirty minutes later, Steve is quick to slide off the stool, sauntering over to the other side of the classroom where he originally chose to sat – far away from you. By the time you pack your backpack up again, waiting so that Steve is the first to leave. Steve lingers around after class, conversing with some of the boys in the class. Though, Steve eventually stands off, beginning to walk out of the classroom and down the hallway. 

You’re close behind, not wanting to be in Steve’s line of eyesight. You walk out after Steve and watch as he turns left out of the door, you turning right to go back to your locker. However, you pause, contemplating your next move. 

It’s become unbearable to try and dodge Steve every day of school, being tense within every class you share with him. Truthfully, you’ve racked your brain on numerous occasions to understand why Steve doesn’t like you, why he treats you poorly compared to everyone else in Hawkins High. He even treats Jonathan Byers better who now dates Steve’s ex-girlfriend, Nancy. So, what issues does Steve have with you? 

Quickly, you turn on your heel, beginning to trail Steve in the hallway. Your fists clench as you quicken your pace to reach Steve. “Steve!” you call, gathering strange looks from others passing by in the hallway. Steve looks over his shoulder, his eyes widening when he sees that you are who called his name. 

“What?” Steve says as he watches you approach him, wedging himself against the row of lockers that line the wall to allow other people to pass by. 

“What do you mean, what, you have to explain to me what I’ve done to you to make you hate me,” you say with a huff. 

Steve frowns, his mouth pouting a little. “What are you talking about?” He says, bending towards you, his voice low. “I definitely don’t hate you.” 

You scoff, crossing your arms across your chest. “Oh, please, Steve. You constantly give me dirty looks, dismiss me while you flirt and be nice with other girls. I don’t understand, I’ve thought back to all the times we’ve talked, which aren’t that many by the way, and I don’t remember where I could have made you mad.” Your voice raises with each word you say, your cheeks beginning to fluster with heat. “Just tell me, Steve.”

Steve looks away from you, noticing that people pause to look at you and he standing, essentially bickering. Steve sighs, grabbing your forearm, his long fingers warm against your skin. “Come with me.” 

You reluctantly follow Steve, watching as he pushes a darkened classroom door open, dragging you inside. “I don’t hate you.” He mumbles, his eyes connecting with yours. They’re big and brown, twinkling against the dim lights. 

“So, then what’s the problem?” 

Steve leans against the desk at the front of the classroom, his head shaking as he looks towards the floor. “I like you, okay?” 

You frown, suddenly at a loss for words. He likes you? Who likes someone and treats them terribly? “You like me?” 

Steve nods, not looking at you still. “don’t you remember I tried to hand you a flyer to my party, and you ignored me? I just assumed you thought I was an asshole and I guess I started acting like one.” 

You think back, remembering the instance Steve references. You had been walking out of biology class a few weeks before, and Steve had been handing out bright orange flyers to one of his famous parties. Sure, he had tried handing you a flyer as you passed by, but you weren’t into parties, and you didn’t think he was specifically trying to invite you to one of his parties. You two didn’t really know each other so that assumption made sense. 

“Funny way to show that you like me, Steve. I didn’t think-“ you begin to say, beginning to get discouraged. “I didn’t think you were inviting me to the party, I thought you were just handing them out. You didn’t have to act like an asshole, we could have just talked.” 

Steve sighs again, running a hand through his now messy hair. “I know, I’m an idiot. I guess it was a misunderstanding and I read it wrong – it’s my fault.” 

Silence falls between you and Steve, his apology lingering in the air. You think about this, how boys are just so stupid sometimes. Though you can’t help but smile, Steve’s affection making you blush. Now that you understand Steve’s mindset and why he’s treated you in such a way, you have to acknowledge that you find Steve attractive, his boyish looks making your heart flutter. 

“So, you like me, huh?” 

Steve nods, his cheeks beginning to flush with a tint of pink. “Yeah. A lot, actually.” You smile, biting at your own lips. What a revelation this is. You’re glad you followed Steve. 

Though you’re sure Steve is about to ask you out, you decide to beat him to it, knocking his ego down a few pegs. “Then you should definitely take me out. Preferably this weekend.”

Steve nods, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “How does picking you up at 7 sound?” 

You nod, folding your hands in front of you. “That’s perfect.”

[mj0702]

I didn't do anything

Not the best work in the World but since it's all fiction 😅

For you @samkerrworshipper ❤️

Jenni sat on your couch, her legs folded in under her, reading a book in the comfortable silence of your shared flat. It wasn't often, that your flat was this quiet. With Alexia, you and Jenni sharing a flat there was often chaos instead of silence – the two football stars always moving around, hardly containing their energy during the day filled with trainings, media and other obligations made it hard to get some peace. You on the other hand loved your quiet time while your girlfriends are out for said obligations. You work as an EMT in Barcelona and sometimes you bartend in the bar of a good friend of yours to unwind from your hard, emotional Job.

That was were you where tonight – bartending in one of the better known clubs in Barcelona. Jenni choose not do accompany you tonight in favour of staying in and enjoy a little quiet time with a glass of red wine and a good book, leaving the task of having an eye on you during your shift to your other girlfriend Alexia. You were very popular within the crowd getting flirted on by a regular basis. Which didn't bother you in the slightest always making sure to leave it at some flirty lines or a smile here and there – the tips were great when you flirted back a little. Your girlfriends on the other hand minded quiet a bit since both of them where more on the possessive side also getting jealous quickly. You couldn't count the amount of times you had to calm either Alexia or Jenni down when a costumer was too forward for their liking. Normally a reassuring smile or a squeeze to their hand as they sat at the end of the bar waiting for you to finish did the trick but there were also times where you had to settle their wandering minds with showing “their mark“ to them. About a year ago you surprised both of them with getting their signature tattooed to your collarbones – Alexias on the left, Jennis on the right side. To say both of them were thrilled about it would be the understatement of the year – and they rewarded you a lot for it.

Jenni just turned another page as the door basically got kicked open, some shuffling and then got kicked closed again. The dark haired woman looked up from her book raising an eyebrow in anticipation waiting for what's about to happen. She didn't get disappointed as seconds later a fuming Alexia turned around the corner dragging you behind her by your shirt. You looked rather bewildered by your girlfriends actions as she dragged you down the corridor towards your shared bedroom. Jenni took a deep breath before closing her book, laying it on the side table and quietly walking towards the bedroom. The sight she was greeted with was something she wouldn't forget quickly. Alexia was muttering in spanish while basically ripping your clothes off as you just stood in the middle of room not daring to move.

„What are you doing back here this early?“ Jenni asked no one particular after closing the door behind her and leaning against it, her arms crossed over her chest.

„Shift apparently ended early“ you said confused but immediately yelped as Alexias hand connected with your ass cheek

„Calla“ she sneered at you „you don't get to talk after what you've done“

„I haven't done anything“ you exclaimed – again she spanked your ass hard

„Are you really talking back.. to ME?!“ Alexia growled while pushing you down on your knees

„Ale...“ this time it was Jenni who interrupted „... calm down – at least explain to me what happened“

„She let this guy touch her“ the blond woman sneered „He touched what's mine“

„Excuse me?!“ the other spaniard said shocked

„Yes... she was dancing with him behind the bar... and he touched her“ Alexia was fuming

„I didn't mean that... he touched what's YOURS?!“ the older woman said challenging at Alexia with a raised eyebrow.

„Ours“ the midfielder grumbled

„Mhm... I thought so“ Jenni murmured before pushing herself off the door she was leaning against slowly approaching you „Now tell me Querida... what did you think letting others touch you – right in front of Alexia“

You knew better than to just answer so you hung your head and avoided eye contact

„Ah“ the dark haired exclaimed „so you DO remember some rules... go on... speak up“

„I didn't do anything“ you pouted

„You knew EXACTLY what you were doing“ Alexia growled as she rummaged through your wardrobe

„I didn't do anything“ you repeated annoyed

„Tsk... watch your attitude“ Jenni warned you

„But I really didn't do anything“ you said again losing your nerve

„Y/N!“ Jenni warned

You just huffed and growled quietly lowering your head again knowing it was no use to fight

„Don't you worry“ Alexia growled „I'll fuck that attitude right out of her... you mind tying her up for me?“ she looked at Jenni already throwing a pair of handcuffs her way

„Of course not... on the bed Y/N“ she said while nudging you forward with her foot against your hip

You fell slightly forward as Jenni pushed against your hip but complied and pulled yourself onto the bed.

„On your back, arms above your head“ the dark haired woman instructed already grabbing one of your wrists. She secured both your wrists with the handcuffs to the bedposts before backing up and sitting down in the armchair opposite to the bed, crossing her legs in anticipation.

„Even if I'm fuming right now... safeword?“ Alexia checked in with you as she crawled on the bed

„Red“ you huffed out refusing to meet her eye

„You really think it's a good idea to get bratty in your position?“ the blonde asked grinning, grabbing your chin to make you look at her „I can tell you now, it's not... here's how this will go – you won't make a sound unless it's a moan... you won't beg or demand things... and most importantly... you won't come without my permission, am I clear?“

„Yes ma'am“ you answer sarcastically

This sarcasm earned you a hard pinch to your nipple which caused you to grunt in pain.

„You're really playing the bratty card hard today, Cachorrita“ Alexia shook her head at your actions before starting to run her hands up and down the side of your body. Her ultimate goal was to remind you who you belong to – who makes you squirm, moan and in the end fly on the high of an orgasm. Not that filthy dirty blonde guy, who you call a coworker at the bar – Luiz, Leonardo or Leandro or whatever his name was. She saw red the moment he laid his... dirty paws on your hips, swaying you around to one of the more upbeat songs – and what did you do? You laughed and let him continue. Alexia saw, that it was a genuine laugh – not even a fake one. So she did, what her jealous shortcut brain told her to do. Claim what's hers and take you home.

„I have a lot in store for you, Cachorrita... the next time you'll think twice about letting him touch you“ Alexia purred into your ear as she dragged her nails slowly down your sides. It was embarrassing what this movement alone did to you. You felt yourself shiver and a quiet moan escaped your lips. The blonde midfielder grinned wickedly and repeated the action. After she was satisfied with your reaction which included goosebumps and squirming she sat back on her heals smirking down at you

“Let's get going, shall we?” Alexia grinned and leaned over you to grab something from the bedside table. She knew you were weary with blindfolds so she showed you the item before slowly moving to put it over your eyes, giving you enough time to show her if you're okay with it. After she secured the blindfold, she moved away from you leaving on the bed and joining Jenni on the armchair. The dark haired player raised an eyebrow at her girlfriend who straddled her now grinning down at her. Jenni leaned forward meeting Alexia half way kissing her softly. After some time the kiss got more and more heated, the older player pushing her hands under the shirt of her girlfriend making her shiver.

All you were doing was imagine what's going on as you just heard kissing sounds – and god it bothered you.

In the meantime Jenni got rid of Alexias shirt and bra and was paying a lot of attention to the blondes breast, kneading them, kissing them, sucking on her nipples. Alexia moaned loudly throwing her head back grinding down on Jennis lap. The older player smirked as she started to rub small circles over the younger ones lacy underwear.

“Aren't you forgetting something, mi vida?” Jenni grinned against Alexias breast, her hand delicately pushing aside the piece of fabric and dipping a finger into the wet warmth between the blondes legs.

“Am I?” Alexia moaned out grinding down on Jennis finger “More please”

“Your Cachorrita looks very irritated” the dark haired husked out sparing you a glance

“She can wait” the catalonian groaned as she noticed that Jenni denied her plea for more

You were getting antsy. You were restraint, blindfolded and horny. You could feel your wetness running down your thighs from just HEARING what your girlfriends were doing when you heard Alexias hoarse moan. You wanted to beg, making known how badly you'd need them to touch you. But you knew better, so you just let a small needy moan slip through your lips hoping Alexia would show a little mercy – oh boy were you wrong.

“Quiet” Alexia growled towards you, still riding Jennis finger, her movements getting a little frantic as she was chasing her first orgasm of the night.

“You're really angry with her” Jenni mused, finally having mercy with the blonde above her, slipping a second finger into her

“Fuck” Alexia moaned sinfully as she felt her lovers second finger

“Come on, mi vida... make yourself cum on my fingers” the older one whispered darkly as she lightly bit her neck.

“Jen...” the blonde one moaned breathlessly, her grinding increased trying to get the long fingers even deeper.

“Cum for me, mi vida” the dark haired player demanded and angled her hand a little differently which resulted in her fingers hitting the hidden sweet spot inside Alexia

“FUCK YES” the blonde screamed out as she felt her walls tighten before feeling that sweet release.

“There we go...” Jenni grinned smugly as she let Alexia ride out her orgasm on her fingers “Now go and get your emotions sorted”

You whined pathetically slowly getting too worked up for your liking. Alexia kissed Jenni once more before lifting herself off and walked back to the bed.

“Did you enjoy that, Cachorrita?” the catalonian asked rhetorically already seeing your juices smeared on your thighs

You were smart enough to not answer but a tiny noise did make it which wasn't the smartest thing as Alexia heard it and immediately smacked your breast

“Can't you just listen for ONCE?” she asked and you heard a slight angriness in her voice. You also felt how your limit got pushed slightly with not being able to see her face and you froze for a second which didn't go unnoticed by Jenni but she let Alexia go on. She would interfere if necessary.

Meanwhile Alexia started to put on her favourite strap-on as she just let you squirm on the bed

“Don't worry, Cachorrita... I'll make sure you listen to me when I'm done with you” she said offhandly as she secured the last straps around her hip before sinking down on the bed at the end of your feet

“Open” she instructed you, tapping your ankles and you comply immediately spreading your legs for her. She crawled between your legs, collecting some of your wetness with the strap. You took in a sharp breath as you felt the cold silicone against your pussy. Now before Alexia could push it inside you, Jenni interrupted from her spot opposite the bed.

“Alexia... check in” she said her voice holding a little concern

The blonde stopped her movement immediately looking down at you carefully. Now noticing the little tells of you getting uncomfortable. The way your thumb brushed against your ring on the left hand, how your brows furrowed slightly, how you bit down on your lip or how your toes curl – but not in the good way.

“Colour” Alexia asked her voice a little softer then before “And don't lie to us”

“Y...” you started but you couldn't bring yourself to finish being scared to disappoint your lovers

Jenni stood up from her seat walking up to the bed, kneeling down by your head making herself known by carefully running her thumb over your cheek

“It's okay, Querida... try again... we need to know how you do” she said softly which is rare since she's the more dominant one in the bedroom. You shook your head not wanting to answer. Just as Alexia wanted to demand an answer, Jenni held up her hand signalling that she has it covered.

“You know we care about you, even if Alexia acts like she doesn't... tell me Querida... colour” the dark haired one tried again

“Yellow” you choke out turning your head away embarrassed.

“I know” Jenni said softly, grabbing your chin turning your head back to her “What's bothering you?”

You try to get away from your girlfriends touch but of course it was no use so she just tsked at you waiting for you to answer her

“Blindfold” you whisper your voice cracking

“Oh Querida... you need to tell us not just let it happen because you think we get angry or disappointed... we won't... we never will... we want to make you feel good” Jenni said softly as she pulled the blindfold off. You sighed relieved as the fabric left your eyes you blinked adjusting to the light again

“She was so mad” you whisper trying to defend your decision to not say anything

“It doesn't matter... when you're not comfortable, you need to tell us... would you have stopped her if she'd hurt you?” the older one asked seriously

You shook your head biting your lip. That answer caused Alexia to look at you shocked. She had never thought you would just have kept quiet even when she crossed a line.

“This is unacceptable” Alexia said still in shock, now moving to your other side “Bebita.. look at me” she waited for you to look at her before continuing “No matter how mad or jealous or possessive we are... we would NEVER hurt you and if we're about to cross a line, you NEED to tell us. I expect it from you, do you understand?”

You nodded slowly as tears spring to your eyes “Didn't want to disappoint” you whispered

“You never disappoint us for showing us your limit – we may be the dominant ones, but you're the one with the real power, okay? You need to realize that if you don't want to do something, we're not going to do it” the blonde says softly but with insistence, wiping your tear away with her thumb before pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. You nodded while you close your eyes recalling what Alexia just told you as you feel someone meddle with your restrains. You opened your eyes quickly to see Alexia stretching herself to release your wrists.

“No... leave em” you said quickly. Alexia stared at you intensely for a moment before pulling her hand back leaving you restraint.

“Are you sure... we don't have to continue” the blonde asked seriously.

“You need to get it out of your system – whatever upset you” you said back with just as much seriousness.

“I can always use Jenni” Alexia shrugged and a little smirk appeared on her lips

“I would love to see you try” the dark haired woman raised an eyebrow

That little bickering between the two eased your nerves majorly and you made sure to let your lovers know by starting to nuzzling Alexias neck, who was still laying beside you

“Getting needy again, Cachorrita?” the blonde smirked “I'll go easy on you... only rule – no cumming without permission, oyes?”

“Sí” you hummed against her neck “Gracias Ale”

“Don't thank me just yet” the blonde smirked darkly as Jenni rose to her feet again to leave you two alone again – she had nothing to do with Alexias grunge after all. You whined as you noticed Jenni left and she chuckled at you.

“That's your fight, Querida... not mine... you'll be fine” Jenni said as she took her place on the armchair again.

“Do you think I can't take care of you, Cachorrita?” Alexia smirked again while kissing down your body

“You do... you can...” you immediately were reduced to a shivering mess as your blonde girlfriend sucked on your nipple hard.

“Hm” she hummed while soothing her bite with her tongue

“Ale please” you moaned and pressed your thighs together

“Patience Cachorrita.. now you want me to touch you... believe me, later you want to push me away – if you could...” the catalonian grinned, her eyes shortly looking up at the handcuffs.

“Please” you whined again your hips rocking lightly against Alexias abs

“So impatient” the blonde chuckled but gave in and started to kiss her way down. Your legs fell open on their own allowing Alexia all the access she wanted. The blonde moved her body in between your legs as she softly bit your thigh

“My original plan was to fuck you till you use your safeword or pass out – but I think a slower approach would benefit us both” the blonde murmured against your thigh before she shuffled forward, letting her tongue swipe along your pussy

You squealed and squirmed as you felt her tongue between your legs she immediately snuck her arms under your legs and laid them on your hips, holding you down. The blonde started to eat you out like you were a delicious gourmet course her tongue swirling and twisting inside you.

“Fuck Ale” you moaned loudly trying to squirm away from her face

“Oh Querida... you really think she'll let go of you? You should know better” Jenni chuckled from her place.

You moans got louder as Alexia doubled her efforts massaging your inside with her tongue relentlessly. You felt your orgasm approaching fast, your thighs start to shake which was Alexias tell that you were close. She kept you right on the edge of release as she slowed her ministrations. You whined loudly knowing your girlfriend was an evil mastermind when it came to leave you hanging on the edge of release for hours – it always goes like this. She'd work you up with her fabulous tongue and then keep you there being a shivering, squirming, moaning, whining, begging mess until she decided she's satisfied and finally let you come.

“Oh Cachorrita.... you know how this will go” the catalonian pulled away from core, smirking at you evilly

“Ale please... please let me cum” you begged panting “I was so close”

“I could tell, Cachorrita...” she still smirked down at you as she repositioned herself now hovering over your body.

“Please...” you begged again hoping it would soften Alexia but again she just smirked

“In due time, Bebe” she said before pushing the tip of her strap into your clenching pussy

You threw your head back into the pillows groaning loudly your back arching as she slowly eased the whole fake dick into you. Once she bottomed out inside you she gave you a minute to adjust to the size – which was slightly bigger than normal – before she started to fuck you with deep, long, slow thrust. Your moans and groans increased with every thrust from Alexia since she knew exactly how to work the strap to bring you the most pleasure possible.

“Fuck Ale...” you nearly screamed as you feel your wall clench around her

“You feel so good around my dick, Cachorrita” she grunted as her thrust became more powerful and she steadied herself with her hands left and right from your head.

You locked your ankles behind her thighs trying to pull her in even deeper, which in hindsight was a bad idea since it changed the ankle of her thrusts slightly and it made you moan even louder. This slight change also meant you were about to break the only rule Alexia set for you.

“Ale...” you whined

“I think you should call me by my real name” the blonde grunted, now fucking into you without mercy. On the other side of the room, you could hear a short, but rather loud snort. Alexias head snapped towards Jenni who just grinned at her

“Powerplay? Really?” the dark haired one asked

Before Alexia could answer you screamed her name coming hard on her strap. The catalonian stoppt her movements to look at your face, then down to where your bodies were connected, back to your face.

“Did... did you just cum?” the blonde asked bewildered

“I'm... I'm.. I'm...” you stuttered out your breath laboured, your eyes wide with shock

“Did... you... just... cum?” each word was punctuated with a blow to your ass

You squeal at every blow but other than that you stayed quiet

“I really can't believe you... ONE rule... you had ONE rule to follow” Alexia growled out before starting to fuck harshly into you “You better remember now”

Since you were still sensitive from the first orgasm, you reached your high pretty quickly again moaning and groaning as she didn't show any mercy practically tearing you apart

“Ale... please” you screamed in pleasure “please let me cum”

Immediately your girlfriend stopped and pulled out of you, leaving you painfully empty

“No please... please Ale... I'm sorry... I really am” you cried out in frustration

“Should have thought about that before” the blonde sneered as she undid your restrains and manhandled you from your back to your front and manoeuvred you to your knees

You were basically dead weight but still she managed to throw you around like you were a stuffed animal. She positioned herself behind you and immediately sunk her fake dick back into your pussy with hard thrust. Her hand were on your hips holding you in place as she set a brutal pace letting all her frustration about the incidents early this evening out.

“La Reina PLEASE” you screamed moaning

“Finally you remembered how to address me” she grunted sweat running down her muscular back “And no... you better hold it or I'll really forget me and you won't like that”

You were so sensitive that tears sprung to your eyes at her words and denial but you somehow managed to follow her command.

“Jen... please” you now tried another approach knowing the only person who could overrule Alexia was in fact your other girlfriend. Tears started to roll down your cheeks as you look up at her with pleading eyes.

“Oh Querida” she said her voice faking sympathy “I won't get involved in this one”

“Please” you begged her again

Jenni looked at Alexia who still fucked relentlessly into you but still nodded her head. So the older player stood up and walked over to the bed

“What do you need, mi vida?” Jenni asked, her hand softly on the small of Alexias back.

“She wants you here, she gets what she wants” the blonde grunted “Get in front of her so she can eat you out... if she makes you come and me come, then MAYBE she can come”

“You... are pure evil, Putellas” the dark haired grinned but still undress “You know I hardly come like that”

“Oh I know... but she begged for you” the catalonian still held her rhythm not faltering once

The older player pressed a kiss to the blondes lips before climbing on the bed getting comfortable against the pillows spreading her legs for you basically inviting you to dive right in

“Bon appetite” Alexia grinned as she pushed you forward with a particular hard thrust and down with her hand between your shoulder blades “you choose this”

You were blissfully far gone already still holding on to your denied orgasm so you just let Alexia guide you to you destination which was Jennis glistening pussy. You did indeed dove right in pushing your tongue into her like your life depends on it – okay, maybe not your life but definitely your orgasm. You used Alexias forceful strokes to set a rhythm with your tongue pushing it as deep as you can.

“Mierda” Jenni groaned at your actions

“She's very... eager today, isn't she” the blonde grinned at Jenni

“I might ruin your plan... if she keeps going like this, I might do come” the dark haired moaned

“Let's see about that” immediately Alexia slowed her movement already seeing through your plan to use her to give you the rhythm to make Jenni come quickly

All you could do was groan in frustration as the blonde slowed down. She slowed down so much that it actually became painfully slow and it destroyed your flow with your other girlfriend. You jumped forward as you felt Alexias finger dancing around your asshole

“What do you say, Cachorrita... should we try that again? Oh... sorry I didn't see that your mouth was still occupied” Alexia grinned as she pushed you forward against Jennis core again

She collected some of your wetness smearing it around your tight hole before carefully pushing her slender finger in – just the tip not wanting to overwhelm you. You moaned loudly into Jennis pussy, sending shivers through the dark haired one.

“You like that, don't you... you like both your holes filled, you little slut” the catalonian grinned.

You were about to answer as Jenni grabbed the back of your head holding you in place “Don't talk with your mouth full” she moaned and started to grind down on your face. Of course you let her use you like that because first you really liked it and second you hoped she came soon and then you could come soon. Sex math with two girlfriends.

Alexia started to fuck your asshole carefully going deeper with each thrust of her finger. It drove you sheer crazy and you felt that you'd get too overwhelmed soon. This time you pulled away from Jenni, choking out a quiet “Yellow” before falling forward again.

As soon as your two girlfriends heard it they sprung into protective mode again. Alexia stilled everything while this time Jenni pushed you away from in between your legs.

“What is it, Querida” the older one asked you concerned

“Get's too much” you panted out hoping they'll understand. Thankfully they did.

“Thank you for telling us... you're being very good for us” Jenni kissed you softly

“We'll end this quickly, okay Cachorrita... hold on for another 10 seconds, okay... then you can come and we're done for tonight” the blonde catalonian whispered softly into your ear

After Jenni ended the kiss, you nodded breathlessly looking back at Alexia giving her a sign that you'd be okay. She started slow again with deep long thrust while still working your asshole carefully

“One day, I'll have you stretched enough so you can take both of us” the blonde grunted as her thrust became faster again and she bit into the soft flesh where your shoulder meets your neck basically holding you in place with her bite.

You screamed out first in pain but it became nearly unbearable pleasure quickly. You started to shake uncontrollably knowing this time you were definitely not able to hold your orgasm back this time.

“Five more seconds Bebe” Alexia grunted from above you as Jenni opted to just hold your face in her hands to make sure you would be okay

After a few harsh thrusts and her finger still deep inside your ass Alexia said the magical word which made you fall apart “Cum Cachorrita”

You screamed out your arms giving out under you as you feel a gush of wetness down your thighs. Jenni caught you instantly as she realized you couldn't hold yourself up and pulled you forward so you would lay on top of her as Alexia follow your body her strap still buried deep inside you. Your breathing was laboured your vision blurred your body in a trance like state.

“You really did a number on her this time” Jenni said a little concerned as you won't really respond to her touch

“I didn't think she would react like this” Alexia said with a low voice as she carefully pulled out of you which made you shiver again “I mean... squirting on the second one? Normally she needs at least five to six”

“Get yourself cleaned up and run a bath for her” the older one instructed her girlfriend still holding onto your shivering form tightly

“Already on it” the blonde grinned and press one kiss to your shoulder and one to Jennis cheek

“Sssshhh Querida... you're okay... you did so good... we're so proud of you” the dark haired woman mumbled against your hair, your breathing still to flat for her liking “Deep breaths okay, Bebita... try deep breaths for me”

You did hear Jenni speak to you but you couldn't make out what exactly she was saying. It sounded like funny gibberish to you. You also started to slightly panic because you couldn't fill your lungs with the much needed air. Finally you could make out the words “proud” and “deep breaths”. You tried to follow your girlfriends instructions and slowly, very slowly your breathing got better.

“Bath is ready” Alexia called from the bathroom

“What do you say, my good Bebita... ready for your bath?” Jenni said with a soft voice as she was picking you up from the bed already carrying you bridal style to the bathroom where Alexia waited for the two of you already seated inside the bathtub. Jenni carefully lowered you into Alexias waiting arms as you were basically boneless. You whined for a second when the dark haired spainard let go of you but quickly calmed as you suddenly were surrounded by warm water and the feeling of the strong arms of Alexia holding you securily.

“You did so good, Cachorrita...” the blonde whispered and pressed a kiss against your forehead “We just going to clean you up real quick and then you can rest okay?”

You made an approving sound not feeling the need to verbally confirm.

“Okay” Alexia whispered again holding you tightly against her.

After a while Jenni came back letting Alexia know it was time to get out of the tub as she was done changing the sheets and cleaning up. The younger spainard let Jenni pull you of her and she herself made sure you were dried off throughly. They helped you into some shorts and a big shirt before carrying you back to the bedroom where the three of you laid down. Or better – you got laid down in the middle of the bed while your girlfriends positioned themselves to your sides. You turned into Alexia, pressing your face into her neck as you feel Jenni shuffeling closer pressing her front to your back making sure you felt safe.

Just before you fell asleep during the soft strokes of your girlfriends your head shot up

“So why did you get so angry tonight?” you asked Alexia confused

“That guy touched you” the blonde said as if she hadn't made her point clear before

“Who???” you asked frustrated

“ Luiz, Leonardo or Leandro or whatever his name is... your bartending friend” the catalonian answered annoyed

“Do you mean Emilio??” you looked at her like she lost her goddamn mind

“I mean the guy you danced with tonight... who put his dirty hands all over your body” Alexia growled at the memory

“Lex... baby...” you started to grin from ear to ear “... Emilio is gay... super gay to be exact”

“Excuse me????” Alexia looked at you dumbfolded while Jenni bursted out laughing

“You were jealous over a gay man... good job... and good night” you grinned as you pushed your face into her neck again.

She could feel your grin against her neck as she groaned embaressed while Jenni still shook with now quiet laughter behind you.

[daddyfordaeddy]

noun - décolletage; a low neckline on a woman's dress or top.

Pairing: servant! Wooyoung x lady! f! Reader

Genre: Smut, implied established relationship, E for explicit, MDNI

Warnings: infidelity (woo and yn fuck, yn is married to someone else), ⚠️somnophilia (it is implied that both of them do this on a regular basis, and it is just a roleplay. it is extremely hinted at so still, please be warned!)⚠️, smut warnings under cut

Word count: 1720

Smut warnings: Peeking tom (wooyoung is a perv and watches yn sleep and touches himself over her), somnophilia (implied consensual, discussed beforehand but not shown), fingering (f receiving), begging, dirty talk, unprotected (⚠️dont do!⚠️), creampie, multiple orgasms

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This is part of a pervert! ATEEZ collab with @sanjoongie, @mingsolo, @flurrys-creativity (Limerence), @potatomountain, @desirehorizon, @bunnliix, and @skteezcursed :) As their stories drop, their links will be added. Enjoy!

A big thank you to potatomountain for helping me figure out the plot too 🩷 probably would've suffered without you lololol

⚠️Please note, this fic, although implied consensual, is very vague on the consent part. YN and Wooyoung have talked about it and agreed to it beforehand, but it's only very lightly implied. Please approach with caution.⚠️

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Wooyoung can’t help but to keep his eyes pinned on your sleeping form as he half-heartedly dusts the dresser for the fifth time. He knows it’s wrong, he can get fired in the blink of an eye, but the chance of getting caught just makes him grow even harder in his pants. All the other servants are with the new master on a business trip, only the cooks, stable boys, and Wooyoung are left in the mansion with the mistress. Just what Wooyoung prefers.

It’s no well-kept secret that Wooyoung is known to play around with his fellow servants, or even some esteemed guests. And it’s not to say he doesn’t enjoy it, but his sights have always been set on you. On Lady YN, his sweet mistress who can do no wrong in his eyes. You’ve always been so kind, so sweet to him, all Wooyoung wants to do is hear your precious moans as he makes you fall apart on his fingers.

Your new husband couldn’t, that much Wooyoung knows. When he creeps under your windowsill at night, hearing the new master’s grunts and groans, and your light moans that he knows deep down are fake, he knows he could do so much better. Just the thought of it boils his blood.

Carefully, quietly, he puts down the duster and approaches your bed. You’re a deep sleeper, he’s sure you wouldn’t wake up if he just takes a peek. Nothing wrong with that. With gentle hands, he lifts the linen sheet covering you and moves it to the side, breathing in deeply at the sight of your lithe form. He didn’t think you would sleep almost bare, the only thing covering you is a sheer nightgown that hides nothing, but he’s not going to complain.

Your lips are pressed into a pout as you sleep, unaware of Wooyoung staring at you like a starved man looking at his last meal. Unwilling to let this chance slip through his fingers, Wooyoung quickly moves his hand down, palming at himself through his pants, biting his lip to keep his moans to a minimum.

With every moment, he grows more desperate, his hips bucking into his hand and he groans under his breath, loosening his pants and shoving them down his thighs. With a stifled moan, he wraps his hand around his length, slowly stroking it up and down and thumbing at the tip. It doesn’t take long for precum to start beading at his tip and sticking to his fingers.

Wooyoung’s eyes drink in your form as you groan and shift around in your sleep, moving to your back and exposing your breasts and cunt, visible through the thin fabric of your gown. Wooyoung’s eyes can’t seem to stay in one place…that is, until he reaches your crotch. He can’t hold back the gasp at seeing how wet your folds are. You must be dreaming about something dirty. Slick is sticking to your thighs, strings of it connecting them together.

Wooyoung’s free hand reaches out without him even realising, pressing his thumb against your pulsing hole. A moan breaks out of your throat and Wooyoung immediately stiffens, eyes flicking up to your face, but you remain asleep. “Woo…” falls out of your throat, and Wooyoung’s eyes widen. There’s no way…did you… “Wooyoung…”

There’s no denying it now. Your quiet moans only serve to make Wooyoung more bold, crawling onto the bed and sitting on his knees, bringing his hand up to cup your chest, thumb now playing with a nipple. Each touch brings a whimper out of your mouth, and you slowly blink awake, eyes glazed over and hazy.

“Wooyoung?”

Wooyoung freezes, hand still gripping your chest and his hard cock pressed against your thigh. “Yes, my lady?” he whispers, eyes trained in on your face as you look up at him with such pretty, pretty eyes. “How may I be of assistance?”

You shift to sit up, leg dragging against his sensitive length and Wooyoung bites his lip to keep the moans at bay. “Aren’t you going to continue?” Your voice is small, delicate, and Wooyoung so badly wants to just eat you up. “It’s so hard to feel good with…him. I saw you outside at my window, you know, and I wanted nothing more than for you to come and show me how it’s done. Please, Wooyoung.”

That’s all Wooyoung needs to hear, his arm wrapping around your waist and hoisting your body up until you’re flush with his torso, face so close to his. “Gladly, my lady,” he hums before capturing your lips in a heated kiss.

Unabashedly, you moan into his mouth, your hands moving up to grasp at his shirt as his tongue presses into your mouth. He can practically taste how much you want him, your hips canting up against his leg as you try and get as much friction as you can.

“Wooyoung, please,” you whine into his mouth, and your voice only serves to make Wooyoung somehow harder.

With a grunt, he moves his hands to grip at your thighs, yanking the hem of your dress up and lifting your hips until his dick, throbbing painfully, presses against your bare cunt. He lets out a hiss at the feeling of your soft, wet folds practically enveloping his length, your slick dripping down to his balls and spreading on his thighs. “You’re so wet for me, my lady. So eager, huh? Tell me, how does the master try to please you?” You groan, head dropping against Wooyoung’s shoulder and he pinches the flesh of your breast, making you squeal. “Go on, speak. How else am I going to show you how much better I am?”

“Ah, well, he would kiss my neck softly, and touch my– ah– my breasts,” you whimper out, every few words punctuated by your soft moans as Wooyoung sinks his teeth into your clavicle, soothing the sting with wet kisses on your sensitive skin. His hands grip the collar of your dress, ripping open the already-low neckline. You gasp as his grip slides over to cup your breasts, his thumbs playing with your nipples and you keen, hips grinding down on his crotch. “Oh God, Wooyoung, just put it in, please–”

Wooyoung laughs into your neck, his hands pinching your nipple just a little too harsh, shutting you up with a moan. “God, so impatient. You really can’t stand the master, huh. Don’t worry, my lady, I’ll treat you right.” As he speaks, one of his hands grasp the base of his cock, guiding it to slide between your folds, his precum making the slide so much smoother until the head finally catches on your hole. It feels like it’s sucking him in, Wooyoung biting his lip to keep himself from coming too fast.

“Youngah–” you moan, cunt pulsing as your walls stretch to accommodate his thick cock.

The nickname, although not perverted by a long shot, sparks something in Wooyoung’s brain and he bites into your shoulder, hard, as his thighs shake and he spills ropes of hot come inside of you. And yet, he remains hard.

“Shit–” Wooyoug groans, his grip tightening, sure to leave nail marks in your soft flesh. “God, squeezing me so tight…Do you feel me in you? You make me so insane, I just want to fuck you full of my come until my cunt is forever filled with my load. You hear that? Your cunt is mine, and I can fill it whenever I want, okay? Whose cunt is this?”

Your mouth is hanging open, nothing but incoherent babbles falling out, but Wooyoung is having none of that. He lands a harsh slap to your clit and you half moan, half scream out, “Wooyoung! It’s you, fuck. Please!”

A low chuckle sounds in your ear, Wooyoung smiling sweetly, a harsh contrast to the sharp look in his eyes. “That’s right, my lady. You’re fucking mine,” he all but growls into your ear, landing another harsh slap to your cunt before bringing his fingers to your clit and playing with the bundle of nerves.

“Yours! Fuck, I’m yours, Wooyoung,” you repeat yourself, head empty of all other vocabulary. “Please, fuck.”

Your cunt is clenching around him so well, tears springing to your eyes as you reach the edge of your orgasm. With one last ‘please’, Wooyoung’s other hand grips your chin, causing your mouth to open, and he spits in your mouth before crashing his lips on top of yours and coming once again.

With every throb of his cock and his come filling you up bit by bit again, you also reach your orgasm with a loud, drawn-out whine. Your body goes limp in Wooyoung’s hold, head resting on your chest as your thighs still quiver and your bones feel like jelly.

Wooyoung’s breath puffs over your hair, his touch back to being gentle as he rubs your back, calming you down. “My lady, how are you feeling?” he murmurs, hands stilling their movement.

“Good,” you hum, moving your head to smile up at your beloved servant. “I’m good. Thank you, Wooyoung. You certainly have helped.”

Unable to help himself, Wooyoung tilts his head to steal yet another breathtaking kiss from you. “Good. I don’t want to hurt my precious lady, you know.” He smiles, pecking your lips again. “And we’ll have the rest of the week to ourselves still, you know. Your husband doesn’t return for another two weeks.”

You shrug, shifting in his lap as you frown at your ripped nightgown. “Yes, well, maybe in those two weeks, I can find a reason to divorce him. For now, we can stick to our games and play-pretend. But my question is…did you really have to rip this? I had it imported, you know.”

You glare up at him, a pout forming on your lips, and Wooyoung can feel his aching dick start to twitch back to life. “Well…I’m sure I can find a way to make it up to you,” he hums, nosing his way down your neck, all the while pressing kisses to it. “Lay back, and I’ll treat you right.”

“You better,” you threaten without real bite. “As your lady, I command you.” Your voice grows breathy as his breath ghosts over your sensitive cunt.

“I live to serve.”

[obaex]

pinch me - jj maybank

summary: when you turn 17, your body begins to mirror anything that happens to your soulmate, but with so many marks and bruises, why is yours so hard to find?

word count: 2.9k

a/n: happy obx writing week! this is for day 1: au with jj! thank you to the lovely @surftrips for planning this event. this fic's a little different, but i am simply a sucker for a soulmate au. italics are jj's perspective. ♡

The flowers bloomed on your skin like a tattoo, delicate but dark. Large roses, orchids, lilies and daffodils tangled with leaves to form a winding pattern that started on your hand before appearing on your arm. You lifted your shirt to see them swirl on your ribs, near your stomach. It was mesmerizing to watch, beautiful, hypnotizing even, the sensation felt like a pleasant tingle beneath your skin that now danced on your cheek, around your eye. You lay down on your bed, closed your eyes, and willed the patterns to disappear by morning.

You knew when you turned 17 that this could happen, that your body would begin to mirror any impact on your soulmate’s skin, so you weren’t necessarily surprised. What did surprise you was the frequency with which the marks appeared, their breadth, their size. Your chest ached with the knowledge that whoever your heart was tethered to underwent physical pain on a regular basis.

You searched for your other half eagerly, knowing they wouldn’t be hard to find: a split lip, a black eye, bruised knuckles, but of course there was no one that looked like that on Figure 8. Your friends sought out their matches based on the occasional skinned knee, maybe a broken finger playing lacrosse; when they asked you about it, you lied and said you hadn’t felt anything yet, too heartbroken to share the truth and the fact that your person was nowhere to be found.

When your best friend Sarah Cameron found her match, you couldn’t help but be happy for her, even though she had found him on the wrong side of the island. She and John B began spending every day together; you were lucky if you could steal her away for an afternoon at the beach, and even then, she spent every moment gushing about him. Before long she was begging you to come hang out with him and his friends. You were undeniably skeptical, but by now your own flowered marks had stopped appearing and even though you knew that was a good thing for your other half, in a way you missed them, missed the connection, the reminder that someone out there was meant for you. You needed something to distract you, and John B and his friends proved to be the perfect distraction, especially JJ Maybank.

You and JJ fell into an immediate friendship that was unlike any you’d had before. Frankly, it shocked the other pogues – what could a marina rat and a kook princess possibly have in common? On the surface, the answer was nothing, but it’s like you just clicked right from the first day you met. You were always laughing at each other’s jokes, tears brimming your eyes, unable to catch your breath no matter how stupid they seemed to everyone else. You would finish each other’s sentences, you could read into each other’s emotions, able to understand one another when words fell short, ready with a hug or a smile when they needed it most. You had a casual intimacy, your head resting on his shoulder when you watched a movie, him always needing to have the seat next to you whether in the twinkie or in the back yard at the chateau, you permanently wearing at least one article of his clothing at any given time. You were having fun, your time with JJ distracting you from the loneliness you had felt before.

Everyone had become so obsessed with this soulmate thing - JJ didn’t think it was even real. He had never felt a thing, grateful at least that that meant his soulmate had a life very different from his own. But, why did people care so much? He had seen and heard John B go on and on about it, but all he wanted to do was ignore it, convinced that that kind of thing just wasn’t meant for someone like him.

He never knew if his parents had had it, and even if they did, what good had it done them? His mom left and his dad was gone now too, having finally taken off for the Yucatan months ago. Good riddance.   

No, JJ preferred to focus on what he could control, to believe what was right in from of him, and for now that was Y/N. He wasn’t sure what a girl like that was doing hanging around with a pogue like him, but he wasn’t going to question it, grateful for every day he got to spend with her. He loved the way she made him feel, like he was always the center of her attention no matter what was going on around them - he’d never had that before, had never been someone’s first priority. He loved the way she would laugh uncontrollably with him, how big her smile got, how her nose would crinkle. He loved the way she curled into his arms when she had a bad day, seeking him out for comfort and reassurance; he loved knowing he could be that for somebody. He loved when she leaned on him when they watched movies, how sometimes her eyelids fluttered closed and she’d breath heavily against him, wrapping her arms around him in her sleepy state – that was his favorite.

The funny thing was, she didn’t seem to believe in this soulmate thing either, never chiming in when the inevitable conversation came up. And that made him feel like maybe he had a chance. He tried every day to muster the courage, to find the right words to say to ask her out, which is where his mind wandered while he spent the afternoon at work at the marina, pissed that he was missing a day on the boat with her.

The HMS Pogue bobbed gently to the rhythm of the waves as John B and Pope cast their rods into the water. You, Sarah and Kie were lying on the bow, soaking in the scorching rays of the sun as sweat dripped down your body.

“OK, I’m getting in the water, it’s too damn hot” Kie said resolutely, standing up.

“Yes please” you said, jumping up, pulling off your sunglasses and diving in, beating her to the punch.

The salt water cooled your skin immediately, bringing instant relief. You let out a sigh as your head breached the surface and you began to float on your back. It was only a moment before you felt something slimy and looked around you to see you had jumped right into a school of jellyfish. You tried to swim away, shrieking, before they began to sting you, their barbed tentacles attaching to your side as you tried to knock them away and scrambled back to the boat. You pulled yourself shakily out of the water, tenderly feeling the burns on your skin as tears overflowed in your eyes.

JJ was spraying down the latest kook yacht to pull into the marina, washing and rinsing mindlessly, his thoughts drifting to you and back again when he felt an itch on his side. He scratched it absentmindedly, attempting to ignore it when it persisted in a tingling feeling. He rubbed it harder before finally lifting his shirt to see a tattooed pattern of vines winding up his side. He shoved his shirt down and looked around, hoping nobody had seen. He dropped the hose in his hand and stumbled inside before he pulled his shirt off to inspect his skin more closely. He was mesmerized by the sensation and the pattern on his skin, his heart racing with excitement until he realized what this meant, his joy waning as his sympathy grew for this person he didn’t even know. He pressed his hand against the vines, like he could make them stop, but they persisted. He could hear his boss yelling for him, so he quickly pulled his shirt back on, his head spinning as he went back to work.

The rest of the afternoon and evening you walked around gingerly, icing your side, putting ointment on it, but nothing seemed to quell the burning sensation of the barbs in your skin. You pulled on one of JJ’s soft, oversized sweatshirts and a pair of shorts and joined your friends in John B’s backyard, trying to focus on anything else to forget the pain you were in.

Thankfully, JJ showed up right after his shift. You had missed him all day, wishing he had been out on the boat with you; he would have known just what to say, how to make you laugh, exactly how to make you feel better, and that’s all you wanted right now.

He settled into his chair beside you, but didn’t meet your gaze, didn’t acknowledge you at all; he looked a thousand miles away.

“Hey, you okay?” you asked, picking up on his demeanor immediately.

“Hmm?” he said, glancing at you quickly before looking away. In truth, he couldn’t stop thinking about the tingling on his side, which had started to fade, but that he could still feel. He looked back at you, examining you. You were perfectly fine. No one had hurt you, you weren’t in pain, and he was overwhelmingly grateful for that, but at the same time, selfishly, he knew that that meant that you weren’t his, weren’t the one for him and it crushed him.

He looked at you with sad eyes, his ocean blues scanning yours, opened his mouth like he wanted to say something before shutting it, shaking his head and ignoring you, choosing to focus on the beer in his hand instead.

You scrunched your face in response, hurt by his dismissal, especially after the day you'd had. You had been so sure he would make you feel better, that he would pull you into his arms and tell you everything was going to be okay, and now he wouldn’t even talk to you.

“Okay then” you said, standing up quickly, wanting to put some distance between you before your emotions got the best of you. “Anyone need another drink?” you asked as you made your way inside. John B shook his near-empty can in the air and you nodded, turning quickly so no one would see the tears in your eyes as you slammed the door behind you.

“What was that about?” John B said as he looked over at JJ.

JJ just shook his head and shrugged, trying to shake off your reaction, his feelings, and failing miserably.

“She seemed upset” Kie pushed, not used to seeing the two of you at odds with each other, ever. “You could at least try to be nice to her, Jayj, she had a shitty day.”

“Pfft understatement of the year” Pope agreed as he took a swig of his beer, “she put up a tough front but I’ve never seen stings that bad before, had to be the man-o-wars, she jumped right into them.”

JJ’s ears perked up. “What?” he asked, trying to catch up.

“She got stung, asshole, like fifteen times” Kie replied, gesturing to her side.

The same side where JJ’s skin still tingled.

JJ’s mouth ran dry and he could feel his heart start to hammer in his chest. It couldn’t be… could it?

He stood up, dropped his beer at his feet and ran after you.

“Y/N!!” he called as soon as he was inside, nearly tripping over the furniture on his way to reach you in the kitchen.

You were leaning with your back against the counter, your eyes meeting his as you wiped at your tears, not wanting him to know how upset he’d made you.

“You’re – Pope said – you – today –“ he stumbled over his words as he gestured outside and then to you.

You looked at him, utterly confused.

He shook his head, trying to clear it as he ran his hands through his hair, willing his heart to slow down just enough for him to get his words out.

“Today. You got stung. A-Are you okay?” he said through labored breath.

You shrugged, still angry with him. “I’m fine” you said.

“Nah, don’t do that, don’t play it off, Pope said it was bad, worst that he’s seen in a long time. C-Can I see?” he asked.

You didn’t know what good it would do at this point but you set your drink down and tenderly reached for the bottom of your sweatshirt, lifting it up to expose the angry red skin on your side, wincing slightly as your fingers grazed it.

JJ stepped closer to you, one hand on your stomach, the other on your hip, careful to avoid touching your wounds as he looked closely at it, then at you. He felt his breath hitch as his emotions overwhelmed him at the thought of this happening to you. You immediately registered the sympathy in his eyes and the fact that he seemed completely distraught, his own eyes nearly brimming with tears.

“Hey, I’m alright, it’s alright, J” you said, not fully grasping the look in his eyes.

He took his hands away, but didn’t step back from you as he lifted his own shirt. You could make out the faint remains of a twisted pattern of vines that ran up his side. Your hands flew to your mouth in shock.

“JJ…” you cautioned. Despite how much you desperately wanted this to be true, you both knew that this could be a coincidence, that that happened all the time. Your eyes met his and you could see the longing shining in them as they met yours, unwavering.

“Pinch me” he said, holding out his arm.

“What?” you asked.

“Pinch me, hard, do it,” he said again, pushing his arm closer to you.

Part of you wanted to know the truth, needed to know the truth, but a larger part of you was scared, horrified for this be a coincidence, and what that would mean for both of you. The idea that JJ might not be yours had your chin wobbling as you looked at him.

“Please, gorgeous, I need to know” he said, his voice a hoarse whisper.

You reached out tentatively and pinched the skin on his forearm hard enough to leave a pink mark where your fingers had squeezed. Within seconds you could feel the tingle on your own skin, your emotions bubbling up as you laughed and then cried, JJ grabbing you by the shoulders, desperately trying to read your emotions as you pulled up your sleeve to reveal the rose that had bloomed on your own arm, matching his own. He looked down as tears welled in his own eyes.

“D-Do it again” he said, now that he could see it, holding out his arm.

“JJ” you said through your tears, urging him to accept what was in front of him.

“Do it again” he said, and as you pinched him a daisy bloomed next to the rose, leaves tangling together. He watched the pattern, willing himself to accept that this was much more than a coincidence, to accept that he could have this, have you, that you were made for him.

He pulled you into his arms, burying his head in your shoulder as you shook, your arms circling him and hands grasping the back of his shirt like a lifeline, unwilling to let him go.

“My God, oh my God” he muttered next to you as he rocked you back and forth.

“W-wait” you said, pulling back reluctantly to look at him. His eyes were blown wide, totally focused on you.

“What is it, beautiful?” he asked and your heart skipped a beat at the nickname.

Your hand came up to cup his face. “Last year” you whispered, tracing your finger under his eye, across his cheek, running it over his lips, tracing all the places you seen flowers on your own skin. He hung his head, pressing his forehead to yours.

“My dad” he said simply in reply as he realized, reluctantly, that you now knew better than anyone what he had been through.

“I’m so sorry” you whispered.

“It’s okay. I’m okay now” he reassured you as his hands reached up to cup your face. “You have nothing to apologize for.”

You nodded as your eyes met his, your mind still reeling, trying to piece together what was in front of you: this boy, with his long hair, his tender eyes, his perfect smile, his infectious laugh, his warm hugs was it, was yours, forever. You smiled at him and he smiled at you as his mind pieced together the same thing.

“How did I get so lucky?” he asked and you laughed in response. “I wanted it to be you. From the moment I met you, I wanted this” he said. You nodded vigorously in agreement, your instant connection so many months ago making so much sense now.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked quietly.

You nodded more vigorously as he brought your lips to his.

He wanted nothing more than to lose himself in you, but was reassured by the fact that he’d have eternity to do so as he pressed his lips softly to yours, savoring the feeling, and the way you pressed into him, opening up to him almost immediately, grasping his shirt and pulling him against you, against the counter as you hummed in response, your pain long forgotten as the pleasure of his body, his heart beating against your own took over. He ran his fingers into your hair as his tongue tangled with yours and he swore nothing in the world would ever compare to this.

taglist: @ietss, @gillybear17, @palmwinemami, @sweetestdesire, @softcoremaybank, @one-sweet-gubler, @m-indkiller

[mycatismyeditor]

Supercorp idea #222

Lena had some thoughts she just wanted to express to someone. Some very gay thoughts. Some very gay thoughts about Supergirl.

So she did what any rational public figure would do. She made an anonymous social media account on a burner phone and vented all her feelings there. Feelings that were apparently appreciated and echoed by approximately 20 thousand other people on a regular basis.

She did not anticipate ever having to explain those posts as herself. She in fact went to great lengths to make sure no one would ever connect her to it.

But even with all her efforts to remain anonymous after three years with the account, posting multiple times a day, she was bound to slip up once. And what a slip up it was.

Now she was sitting in a DEO conference room getting a briefing on her own post about Supergirl and the various ways that highly sensitive information could have gotten leaked.

Which left her with a choice. She could either confess she was behind it, or she could keep her mouth shut and let 46 government agents be interrogated about their social media history and possible interest in being railed by Supergirl over their desks.

She glanced to her left and saw the shocked face of Supergirl as she read more of her posts.

Lena kept her mouth shut.

[genderkoolaid]

something ive noticed as a very effeminate trans masc that dresses pretty androgynous & has been on hrt for many years is that the status of being a "dangerous man" can and will be placed on you (ime most often by cis white women) whenever expressing any kind of negative feelings. if i told friends of mine - even queer ones - that something they did hurt my feelings or made me upset, i was suddenly a dangerous man or a (man)ipulator or whatever - even if i didn't raise my voice. the very fact that i am unhappy combined with my proximity to manhood makes me a supposed threat in their eyes.

a couple years ago i had a group of cis girl friends. they would constantly pull me into women's bathrooms n such so i wouldn't be left behind saying its fine its fine bc im one of the girls (gender neutral) but then as soon as i was upset about something i was suddenly a dangerous man who needed to stay out of women's spaces,,,, despite the fact that of the 4 of us, the girl who joined after me was the one spreading this shit around my friend group so... how was i encroaching on womens spaces if i was there before her and i was invited in? luckily one of my friends told me that the other two were plotting to kick me out of my friend group on the sole basis of my proximity to manhood so i at least knew why they were suddenly treating me like shit

its just.. i cant understand why people dont think trans mascs and trans men are discriminated against when they literally said it was my "toxic man energy" that made them want me out WHILE ALSO being the ones convincing me to go into womens spaces bc they wanted to go somewhere and didnt wanna have to leave me behind & like i said im extremely effeminate and faggy and also NONBINARY so i dont understand what "man energy" they were talking about other than the fact that im on testosterone and thinking testosterone = man is just transphobic no matter how you try to twist it

but my taking testosterone was never a problem or made me evil or scary when they wanted me to go with them into women-only (&nonbinary too i guess unless youre amab (and they can tell) or been on testosterone for too long) spaces, it was only a problem when they wanted 1. a reason to criticise me relentlessly, borderline bullying or 2. a reason to dismiss any of my concerns or criticisms of their treatment of me

all of that, to me, is transandrophobia point blank. i dont know what else you could call it other than transphobia, but transphobia doesn't address any of the very blatant and obvious connection of how my transness affects their perception of my proximity to manhood and how that affected the situation

God that sucks. I'm sorry you went through that.

You make a very good point. This is why I don't want to define transandrophobia/ATM as just transphobia and misogyny directed at transmascs. I still think transunity theory is a really valuable way of looking at transphobia & its important to me that we are vocal about how masculine tropes are weaponized against trans people by cis people on the regular because of how we are positioned in relation to gender. Too many people think the that the only thing wrong with saying trans people have "dangerous male energy" is that its misgendering. So trans people who choose to associate themselves with manhood are left in the trash by the people who should know best how much being made out to be a Dangerous Male Invader hurts!

[crystallinestars]

Kissing Headcanons Part 5 (Baizhu, Thoma, Albedo, Scaramouche)

Previous parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 7

(Reader's gender is not mentioned)

Baizhu’s health prevents him from indulging in heated make outs with you. He wants to please you, but whenever the two of you get lost in the kiss until your breaths run short, Baizhu erupts into coughing fits. He doesn’t want to ruin the mood with his coughs, so he opts for short and sweet pecks instead. He smiles softly at you when he presses his lips to yours in a tender kiss, accompanied by Changsheng’s disgusted noises telling the two of you to get a room. Baizhu frequently chides her for her rude commentary, but in truth Changsheng is happy that Baizhu found someone as wonderful as you to call his lover. The Liyuan doctor could use more support in his life, and she’s happy that you give him some much-needed company.

Baizhu’s favorite places to kiss you are your forehead and wrist. He’s a doctor so he can’t help but press his lips against your forehead or wrist to discreetly check on your health. He takes note of your body temperature, pulse, and skin condition, feeling relieved when he finds them to be normal, or chiding you to get more sleep and eat healthier if he finds anything amiss. Baizhu knows you’ll just tell him to stop worrying if he asks to do a checkup on you unprompted, but he can’t, which is why he resorts to using affectionate actions to disguise his intentions. However, he genuinely does want to show you his love with kisses and affection. Doing minor health checkups on you is just another form of his love and care towards you. You’re very dear to him, which is why he wants to make sure you’re healthy, especially if he has the capacity to help you.

In terms of receiving kisses, Baizhu really enjoys it when you kiss his temples or cheeks. Just simple, short pecks are enough to make him feel loved and cherished by you. As a doctor, Baizhu is always taking care of patients and oftentimes stretches himself thin to cure their ailments, so having someone show care towards him in exchange is a pleasant surprise. It makes his heart swell with warmth whenever you kiss his face, a tender smile pulling at his lips as he enjoys receiving your care.

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Thoma’s kisses are very loving. He is affectionate by nature and expresses his love for those close to him on a regular basis, but he has an especially large amount of love to give you, his lover. He really enjoys kissing you anywhere on your face, but if he had to choose, he’d say your lips are his favorite place to kiss because he feels the most connected to you that way.

When kissing, Thoma likes to cradle your face in his warm palms, gently angling your head into the most comfortable position for whatever type of kiss the two of you are sharing. Thoma’s kisses are more on the chaste side, but they always fill you with so much warmth and comfort because without him even having to say it, you can feel how much love he feels for you through his kisses. The protective way his arms wrap around you, the tender and gentle manner in which he caresses your face, the loving smile and gaze he directs your way— they all say I’m here, you’re safe with me. And you truly do feel your worries and anxieties melt away each time Thoma kisses you. You can’t quite explain it, but the sensation of safety and support he gives you with his touch is enough to make you believe that everything truly will be alright.

Despite his innocent, golden retriever-like demeanor, Thoma absolutely can share more heated and passionate kisses with you, especially when he’s feeling frisky. During such times, the retainer likes to swipe his tongue against your lips before slipping it inside your mouth. He’s unexpectedly really good at French kissing, knowing all the right ways in intertwining your tongues together in the most pleasurable manner, only parting once you’re both short on breath, with a string of saliva joining your mouths together. Even so, Thoma still defaults to sweet and loving kisses because he wants to make you feel safe and loved in his presence. He aims to give you at least two such kisses per day—once in the morning and a second time before bed when his retainer duties at the Kamisato Estate are finished. Sharing kisses with you always brightens his mood and fills him with the energy and determination he needs to carry out his duties quickly so he can return to your side and see your beautiful smile again.

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Albedo has read enough books and seen enough couples to know that kissing between lovers is supposed to be an expression of romantic love that happens in the spur of the moment. After he gets into a relationship with you and dates you for a while, Albedo becomes curious to know what kissing feels like.  And who else would be better to test it out with than with his lover?

Though he knows that in theory kissing is supposed to happen when both parties are in the ‘mood’, Albedo takes a more… scientific approach. When the two of you face each other in preparation for said kiss, Albedo’s mind will focus on the little things rather than the big picture. He calculates the angles at which your heads are tilted, the elevation of your lips, the pressure with which the kiss happens, its duration, etc… It’s a proper kiss, but you can’t help but feel like something is lacking. As nice as Albedo’s lips feel, the kiss itself is stiff and bereft of romance. Albedo also feels like this kiss wasn’t as magical as what the romance novels he read described.

Seeing the disappointment on your face, Albedo realizes that he’s missing something. After some reflection, he concludes that the kiss wasn’t as enjoyable for both you and him because he was approaching it as he would an experiment. He simply wanted to give you the best first kiss and thought that getting every aspect of it perfect would please you, but he forgot the most important thing: affection. It’s not enough to simply do the motions, he needed to put his feelings into it too.

With a solution in mind, when Albedo kisses you a second time, the difference is palpable. Gone is the analytical overthinking, replaced by tender touches and warm smiles. Albedo lovingly traces your cheek with the back of his hand while kissing you, and tucks away a strand of your hair behind your ear, whispering a gentle phrase of adoration when he breaks the kiss. It’s a completely different experience that leaves your heart racing and your cheeks warm. Mirth flashes in Albedo’s eyes at seeing you look so awestruck by his different style of kiss, happy that he got it right this time. He teases you about it with an amused smile, pleased to see your cheeks flush in response. From then on, Albedo will abandon his analytical approach to romance and instead focus more on just enjoying the tender moments with you that feel just as enchanting as the romance stories made it out to be.

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Scaramouche may put up a snarky attitude and indifferent front, but despite his prickly demeanor, his kisses are surprisingly gentle. He may not be the most outwardly affectionate person, but he does genuinely care about you and your wellbeing and doesn’t want to accidentally hurt you by kissing you too aggressively. He’s lost a lot of people he cared about in his life, and he’s scared that if he treats you poorly or hurts you on accident, then you’ll leave him. As such, it takes him a long time to work up the courage to kiss you. You even thought that he wasn’t interested in such intimacy with how he avoided the subject for the longest time, but during a moment when you managed to get his walls to come down and expose his tender heart, Scaramouche is overcome with affection and takes the plunge. He caresses your cheek in his palm before leaning in to gently press his lips to yours, catching you by surprise in the most pleasant way.

His actions speak louder than his words, expressing his true feelings that he doesn’t have the courage to say aloud, but you can feel his love for you through his tender and gentle touch. When Scaramouche pulls away, he looks at you with a rarely seen vulnerability, studying your face with a certain level of seriousness, as if trying to gauge how you felt about the kiss. It meant a lot to him since he essentially fully let you into his heart, something he hasn’t done in hundreds of years because of how painful the other times were. But you are special enough to make him take that risk again. Don’t tease Scaramouche about how serious he looks after your first kiss, he’ll blush and say a snarky remark with a frown on his face, feeling embarrassed by your teasing and will avoid kissing you again for a long time afterwards.

From then on, Scaramouche will stick to giving you gentle and lengthy kisses, enjoying the contact of your lips against his. However, if you stay persistent and provoke him enough (or make him jealous), he will snap and kiss you more aggressively, mashing your lips together in a rough kiss that will leave your lips slightly swollen. He’ll feel a little bad for being so rough with you so expect some indirect aftercare later, but a part of him will secretly feel smug about it. In his opinion, your kiss-swollen lips will signal to others that you’re his, and it’s a very satisfying feeling indeed.  

[elumish]

My Experience With Digital-First Royalty-Only Publishing (Part 2)

Disclaimer: just my experience, may not reflect other people's

Part 1 (What is this sort of publishing; how did I get published; what does the submission, contract, and editing process look like)

Book Release:

My [redacted] book came out in April 2024. It is available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and the publisher's own website, where it is listed for a couple dollars less than on Amazon/B&N. It's available both digitally (in multiple different file formats) and for print (paperback).

I can't speak for whether this is standard across these sorts of publishers, but it probably isn't unusual. This does mean that the book can't be available on Kindle Unlimited, given how Kindle Unlimited's requirements work.

The timing for this sort of publishing is extremely fast compared to traditional or even small-press print publishing. I signed the contract in late August 2023 and sent in the final draft to my editor in late October 2023, and the book was released in late April 2024.

Book cover:

For designing my book cover, they pointed me towards where they pull stock images from and asked me to describe the sort of cover I would want, including possible stock images. They also asked for physical characteristics of my characters, which is when I realized that I had no clue what my characters look like.

The stock image website included AI art, as well as regular non-AI stock images. I specifically requested no AI art, including no AI-generated stock images. As far as I am aware, they respected that request.

Once they created one, they sent me a mock-up and asked about minor changes (typography, etc., from what I remember). I didn't have any changes. Overall, my cover looks like what I described to them, and I'm really happy with it.

Marketing:

My marketing experience with my publisher has been decidedly underwhelming. They seem to have started to revamp their marketing process right around when my book came out, so my book didn't receive/hasn't received a huge amount of marketing support from them.

What they gave me marketing-wise: a few marketing images for pre-release/post-release, including Twitter and FB header images, etc.; general marketing guidance for what I could/should be doing; a couple of mentions on their publisher Instagram post-release and a mention in their weekly newsletter

What they didn't give me marketing-wise: connection to reviewers, including sending an ARC or providing a list of reviewers that might be good to work with; marketing materials for sites like TikTok or Instragram; a meaningful amount of airtime/mention on their accounts; a large following of their own

Overall, the marketing is what is probably most like self-publishing--a huge amount of it is on me (and I am terrible at it). It will be interesting to see what their revamp brings, but they are starting from a minimal following and not a lot of previous activity on their accounts, and so they also need to build their reach to make their marketing on their accounts more effective.

Royalties/payment:

I get paid on a monthly basis through PayPal. I also receive a royalty statement that lists days, amount/type sold, etc. so I can reconcile with what they have paid me. From what I have seen this royalty statement is pretty standard.

So far, they've been prompt and haven't had issues with payments.

However, because of (among other things) their general lack of marketing, my royalty statements have been fairly low. So far (and, granted, the book came out less than 2 months ago) I have made very little money on this.

My Path Forward:

I've thought a lot about whether I will continue to do this sort of publishing. I am currently querying my "main" books, and I don't plan to publish them through this sort of publishing, even if the publisher would likely accept them.

My contract stipulates that my publisher has right of first refusal for the rest of the books in this series. I am currently writing book two, and I plan to also write a third, as I had initially discussed with them. Beyond that, I'm not sure. I don't mind working with them as a company, but I don't know if they have the processes in place for me to make money publishing with them.

One thing I will likely do is explore other romance publishers that accept unagented submissions. They have a much lower barrier of entry and they are often willing to accept books that trad publishers might not want to spend money/reputational risk on.

As such, I would likely submit to these publishers stories that I don't think traditional publishers/agents would likely to be willing to publish, including more niche subgenres and less standard lengths that are easier to publish digitally.

Why do I redact the name of my book?

Honestly because I'm a coward and because people are weird about romance, especially certain subgenres of romance. I also plan to use this account for my main agented publishing, if I ever reach that point, and I don't necessarily want those two pen names associated.

Any other questions about this sort of publishing?