#even though it's for me and you're not obligated to read it!!! but read it

[hazeism]

hi!! wanted to ask if you have any favorite books, either that you've read recently or of all time. Your prose is insane and I need to broaden my own vocabulary so if you have any book recs, fiction or nonfiction, I'd love to know :')

Hii :D ! ahaha, what a well-timed question; lately I've become the kind of guy who just really wants to talk about what people are reading, or are planning to read, and responding in kind, so thanks for giving me an opportunity to indulge that, haha. What a wicked invention the printing press was!!! (Also--thank you!! I'm glad my prose is to your taste. I'm happy !💕)

If you don't mind, I'll put a cut on this right away, because I know I'm very talkative, but let me put a TLDR above for all the novels/authors I mention here. Disclaimer also that I am kind of a dunce (I think you know this) so I like silly shit a lot of times . please be nice to me adfhbjkdg. :D

(No nonfiction also because I'm a frivolous and unworldly little sprite or something but if you want straight philosophy [which counts] come back and I'll do my Top Ten Epic Platonic Dialogues Compilation for you .)

TLDR: Read any UKLG you get your hands on, Cain by Jose Saramago, or any Saramago (though maybe not Skylight, which is not a good introduction to Saramago), very much enjoyed Sartre's The Age of Reason recently, Shadow & Claw or The Fifth Head of Cerberus by Gene Wolfe. If you feel like it, come off anon and tell me what you like, so I can give more tailored recommendations!!

Now if you're asking for favorites, like just the particular and arbitrary objects of my partiality, that stir my stupid little heart, the true answer is probably UKLG's The Farthest Shore, just because it is very special to me. I can't, of course, in good conscience, recommend the third novel of a six-novel fantasy series to someone (but of course read Le Guin, everyone should be reading Le Guin, it's dire for universal soteriology that we all read Le Guin; You'll probably get told to start with Left Hand of Darkness, and that's pretty solid. I liked The Lathe of Heaven as well. And if you read any Le Guin it doesn't hurt to pick up a copy of the Tao. I love the Tao man.)

Some friendlier recommendations, though:

José Saramago is someone I really consider peerless; There's no way to pick up a Saramago and not know who's written it. Cain is a bit drier, a bit more abrasive (almost accusatory, in that particular way you'll find in a Buddhist parable) and bleak than some other Saramagos, but it's one I like (perhaps for the trite reason that I like bucolic atmospheres and Classical antiquity as a setting) so it's the one I'll put forward.

Uhh, I've also been enjoying Sartre's Roads to Freedom lately, starting with The Age Of Reason. I'm partway through the second novel and umm... despite all the other things you could say about Sartre, lmfao, let it not be said that he is not a serious literary force. Serious is maybe the only word for it. Dire, too. I keep a commonplace book, so usually I take excerpts, but this was the first time in memory that I felt compelled to commit entire pages, ahah (I just took pictures though, fuck copying all that).

If you're itching for esoteric language, Shadow of the Torturer (as usually collected with Claw of the Conciliator in a single omnibus edition titled Shadow & Claw; the first of the give-or-take five volume Urth series) by Gene Wolfe will scratch you BLOODY. If you're particularly fussy, you might be irritated by your compulsion to Google, but I find it really makes the experience when you type in a word and the only results are "what the fuck did Gene Wolfe mean by this?" hahaha; Honestly, though, those kinds of complaints are borne from a lack of immersion, but you'll notice pretty quickly that the verbiage is a pretty crucial vehicle OF the immersion.

It may or may not become a commitment, though, if you like Urth enough to want to read through, so if you want Wolfe without the strings--though less of the exciting vocabulary, which is pretty necessarily constrained to Urth--I'd really highly recommend The Fifth Head of Cerberus (the novella OR the novel, I mean the former is volumized in the latter so just start it and if you feel like stopping then stop, haha). Mr. Terminal E is incredible but I scrape enough time out of my daily life to gush about his crazy literary density so I won't do it again here (you should ask my coworker, lmfao, who one time went "stop, hold on, hold on." because my face started getting really red while I was explaining to him some Wolfean gesture). If you read any Wolfe, and I mean ANY Wolfe, because his permatypes and his manipulations of them are endlessly interesting, feel free to come back and chat with me over it!!!

I guess I have to disclaim that my habit is mostly to pick through an author's corpus over a course of, usually, a couple years, and then sometimes I'll read things that will inform my understanding of the genre conventions or currents that the author is writing in (been enjoying Golden Age sci-fi recently)--it's not really as deliberate of a process as it sounds, but I think if you were to map my habits, that's the landscape of it. This means, though, that my reading is actually pretty narrow in scope, and I am not very well read or very knowledgeable in general (who is, in this economy) but it does mean that of the authors I do like, I can probably find the novel that'll work best for your taste.

If you want to come off anon, or I guess just leave another message, haha, (or if someone else wants to, idgaf, we're all friends here at tumblr user hazeism) describing the things you like or look for in a novel I can probably give you a more relevant recommendation. I've been dosing people up a lot lately tbh, it's like a parlor trick I've been doing; I have a conversation with someone and afterwards they'll have a PDF with a relevant Asimov story in their messages, hahaha. I can't help myself sometimes.

Come back anyway, though, if you read anything I talked about, okay? I want to hear about it 🥺

And alsooo (turning to face the audience) if anyone ever wants to put recs in my inbox (or my dms : ) slow replies though sorry I'm a hermit) I'd be happy to take 'em down. Can't guarantee I'll read them in a timely manner, or that you'll ever find out if/when I do, but it's good for me to leave my comfort zone.

#also not what you asked but a thing that i find always pertinent is the fact that synonyms are a scam #no two words ''mean'' and by mean I mean Convey Meaning Serve Function Perform Their Obligations In Continuity Or Discontinuity etc the sam #thing. if two words meant the same thing they would be the same word and even that's a bit of a trap (though i guess there is allure in the #potential scenario in which you are able to so precisely construct the surrounding matter of a sentence that you can get a word to repeat #its exact sensibility when being reused--usually when you are reusing a word you are manipulating it to throw light into an alternate facet #i think maybe it seems like i have an extensive vocabulary (i can't say if I do or not) because I trot out all manner of words in all manne #of contexts. under that pretense. or maybe I am a douchebag who wants to live in the world of forms who knows #sorry for all my me btw your first mistake though was looking at me and going Yeah I bet he has both a meaningful answer AND the ability to #convey it. like no sorry. you'll have to pick through the charnel field again. one million words curse #anonymous #ask #mine #bet you were waiting for me to tell you to read asimov well no. don't feel compelled to do that. i mean don't let me stop you (at the momen #I need them to live so I won't judge you but dhfkudh) i mean if you're currently in a place where reading is difficult (we'veall been there #then his mission of clarity makes his books sublimely digestible impossibly easy to read they're comfortable novels without being totally #unstimulating andthey can in fact be very stimulating if you give them the room to proliferate in your brain . but the thing about asimov i #the best things I find are Daneel (who is a scam and will ruin your life) and HIS PERMATYPEESS guys I love permatypes lately but it's hard #to get the texture of the Asimovian permatypes (muttering about the continuum from fisher through terens) and really luxuriate in them unle #ss you read one fucking million novels . so if you feel like doing that do it but if you don't. don't. #i've been getting so many asks lately (i mean. three. but before that another three!) and it's ruining my icy and aloof image . because i a #a motormouth. and now I'm going to stop typing!!!!!!!!!

[omniaspec-rat]

I spend all day trying to distract my mind, convinced that worrying about social issues isn't a help in itself and is just making me feel too bad to help, and then when I *finally* find something to distract myself, my brain decides I can't because "hey but you still don't have an opinion on this specific issue and a perfect argument (taking into account any counterarguments) against this wrong thing and a perfect solution in your head and a perfect understanding about this social problem that is not that important and that you definitely can't do anything about and-"

Thank u brain, this is very useful! /sarc

#there's no reason for anyone to read this #i just feel less lonely as i write a post about this #it feels like i finally have the power to tell my brain that none of this is actually true #the rest of the tags is just some vent i think #i hate all the problems in the world but it really isn't the job of one person to find the solution to every problem #but there are so many varied solutions out there that i just REALLY want to find one that works for me #but i can't #i can't even read books or articles or anything #I just spend hours and hours reflecting on problems and trying to find solutions for them #almost like a philosopher but not by choice just by obligation of my brain #I am (almost) sure that this is the OCD but even though knowing the name of it helps a lot #I still don't know how to make the thoughts stop #because not a single obvious logic about “why should you STOP thinking like that” really works #but it's still nice to know you're not the only one dealing with it #like “at least i'm not as lonely as this feeling makes me think”

[pearlcigs]

⋆ make a woman out of me

christian!virgin!reader x ellie williams

summary ⋆ you swore to yourself you only longed for ellie in a platonic way, but as you get older you seem to realize just how pretty she really is.

warnings ⋆ 2.95k ⋆ smut, i might get cancelled 🤷‍♀️, reader (non penetrative) virginity loss, religious themes, ellie is 19, reader is 18, pastor's daughter!reader, mentions of homophobia, alludes to reader's parents being homophobic, ellie smokes weed, pet names (pretty girl, babe, honey, baby, good girl), cursing, first kiss, corruption, corruption kink, oral (r recieving)

time moved slowly within the parameters of jackson. the same familiar faces, day in and day out. though, it was comforting living in such a community. the horrors of the world beyond the walls that stood tall was something you rarely wanted to think about. it made you sick to your stomach to think of your friends, loved ones, even people you weren't particularly close with, outside of the safe walls, being face to face with whatever monsters marred the unhabitual world.

your parents were strict with religion, your father being the only self acclaimed paster that jackson has ever had to offer. there was never a time you could remember, even before finding refuge in the cozy town, where your parents weren't devout. vivid memories of your mother's fingers gliding over the cross necklace she wore around her neck when you would get in trouble. disappointed sighs and signs of the cross, begging the lord above for forgiveness, explaining to the sky you were too young to know what you've done was a sin.

the bible was followed closely in your home, and you obliged without caution. you prayed, attended your father's mass sessions in the tiny chapel just down the road where he preached the bible, wore the holy cross around your neck to show your devotion, you've read the old torn and withered bible you were so lucky to find front to back. religion was all you've ever known and you had found no reason to ever question the man who hung on your wooden walls, hanging from a cross with his hands and feed nailed to it like an animal. that was, until ellie.

"come on, don't you wanna jus' see what it feels like?" ellie teased, waving the joint in front of your face like a taunt. "no thank you." you replied, sitting at the foot of her bed, legs crossed, eyes wandering around her room. when ellie first came to jackson you were infatuated with her, dwindling it down to pure want but only of friendship. "good girl, that's what you say when someone offers you this shit." ellie moves the weed away from your face, inhaling it and then turning away to exhale the smoke away from you.

it started with just friendly smiles, offering to show her around and help her get to know everyone. she was wary of you. honestly, afraid of your friendly demeanor. people on the outside of the jackson walls were cruel and vicious, she thought, with no doubt in her mind, you were being friendly to lure her into some kind of trap. she danced around you with caution, keeping her distance but also decidingly giving you a chance. she quickly became fond of you, your personality, your looks. everything about you appealed to ellie and something about that made you proud, even more eager to befriend her.

the words 'good girl' ring from her mouth and you're not sure how to respond. was there even a proper response to your best friend calling you that? a simple nod was all you could come up with. watching her lips intently as she blew the smoke out of her lungs. your fingers came up to your neck, fiddling with the cross necklace around your neck, a habit passed down from your mother. ellie never paid much attention to your shy outlook on life. you were reserved and a part of her liked that she had so much of you to herself.

it wasn't until you were 17 that you finally came to terms with the fact that your infatuation was more than just a yearning to be her friend. tears of guilt streaming down your face in the confessional at the shoddy chapel, divider between you and the young volunteer who was ready to beg jesus to abolish your sins. "i'm a girl... and i like another girl." you sniffled, lowering the pitch of your voice instinctively so he wouldn't see past your anonymity. ache in your heart when silence was returned, until soft mutterings of a prayer, asking jesus to forgive your tainted heart.

ellie extended her arms behind her head, a small stretch that gave you big feelings. her shirt rode up, exposing the small of her stomach. you swallowed harshly, wondering why god would tempt you with something like this. a soft sigh emits from ellie's lips, flicking the almost finished joint into a nearby makeshift ashtray. another soft sigh falling from her perfect lips. intent eyes trying to be secretive of the no less then unholy thoughts that you were being tempted with.

ellie was put off at first by your fervent religion. her experiences were tainted, never having a good visual of what a healthy relationship with god looked like. she was unsure if you were going to try and convert her into some pious worshipper. you weren't secretive of your religion and that much was enough to make ellie suspicious. with time she realized you were different from the other religious people she's met. only bringing up your religion or anything to do with it when you were directly asked or if it was really important to speak about.

"whatchu lookin' at, pretty girl?" she chuckled as she noticed the way your eyes locked onto her, like if you looked away she'd be gone. it wasn't unusual for ellie to be flirty or to make casual remarks about how pretty you were. still, every time she did your cheeks were adorned in a rosy color. "just you, i guess. i dunno..." you answered back quickly, hoping that answer was enough to satisfy her eager curiosity. "yeah? just me? got something you wanna say to me?" she was just joking around, trying to get you riled up and flustered but you did have things you wanted to say to her.

"no." you answered, though you were sure she wasn't expecting an actual response. "no? yikes, babe, i'm hurt, thought we had somethin' real here." she smiled and you felt the butterflies in your stomach become tongue tied. one thing you loved about ellie above all things was her smile, how the skin around her eyes scrunched up just the tiniest bit, the apples of her cheeks becoming more prominent. everything about her smile made your head spin.

"els, i like you." the words slip out of your mouth before you could even process what was going on. her smile that coerced you to confess to her in the first place falters. "i'm sorry?" she questions, unsure if you meant what she thought you did. you had never said anything that led ellie to believe you were homophobic or that you thought all gay people were sinners like most of the older people who were religious in jackson did. but still she was careful to keep her sexuality from you, strongly assured you would take after your parents' stance on homosexuality.

"i... i don't know why i said that." you say, truthfully. mouth slightly agape and eyes widened with shock that you'd just outed yourself after years of trying to force down your feelings. there was a silence between the two of you. silence wasn't uncommon around each other, sometimes the both of you preferring to spend your time together quietly as a way to unwind after a treacherous day. but this silence was different than those times. ellies breath was caught in her throat, words jumbled on her tongue.

she only began reacting when she saw the panic on your face, followed by your eyes becoming glassy. "hey, hey. don't cry. it's okay." she comforted, sitting up and placing a hand on your knee. she wasn't good at comforting people, you were well aware of that. "i didn't mean to.." you admitted, voice timid and quiet, still uncertain to how she would react. "hey, it's okay, honey." the term of endearment sliding off her tongue like she was meant to call you that for the rest of your lives.

"i'm not mad." ellie affirms, her tone soft, knowing how afraid of other people's anger you are. another flash of silence emerges, just you and ellie staring at each other. neither of you knowing what to say. she pitied you, seeing how much you resented yourself. your bottom lip slotted between your teeth, biting hard enough to potentially draw blood. "don't do that..." she mutters, gently running her thumb over your partially chapped lips, pulling your bottom lip out of your teeth's grasp.

your breath hitches, a small shudder traveling up your spine. your eyes locked on hers, your heart beating loud enough for the whole world to hear. ellie's eyes flicker down to your lips and then back to your eyes. "i've liked you for a while." you admit, knowing there was no going back at this point. "oh, yeah?" her voice was low, some would even describe as seductive. her thumb still lingering on your bottom lip. "yeah." you whisper back, your eyes now flickering down to her lips.

ellie's hand moves to your jaw. her eyes flicking down to your lips one last time before she leans down and presses her lips against yours. her lips are soft, just like you had imagined. she seems skilled, like she knew what she was doing and what the end goal was. a small smile forming on her face as she realizes you have no idea what you're doing. “like this.” she mumbles against your lips acutely aware how clueless you were when it came to romance.

you follow her lead, doing your best to follow her lead. her free hand finding your waist, squeezing gently. you pull away, panting faintly. "i don't know.." you mumble, trailing off as ellie puts her lips back to yours. the hand that was on your jaw roaming to the back of your head, fingers getting tangled in your hair. "i know." ellie responds moments later, her lips brushing against your with each syllable. you couldn't comprehend what was happening, your mind going blank with ellie's lips on yours. she adored the way you looked at her. looking at her like you needed her.

she gently lays you back, grabbing the first pillow she could find and settling it under your head so you were comfortable. her thighs either side of your body, her body weight on top of you, giving you a cozy feeling you'd never experienced before. "you don't even know how long i've been wantin' to kiss your pretty lips..." she whispers, her bangs hanging in front of her face. you bring your hand up to her face, nervously tucking the hair behind her ear. "god, you're so fuckin'..." she stops, just taking a second to admire how alluring you looked under her.

her lips dip down to your neck, slowly biting and sucking on the skin. your breath hitches, a small whine pushing past your swollen lips. ellie groans against the skin of your neck. "make more of those pretty noises f'r me." she mumbles, hips rolling over yours, another whine spilling from you at the pleasurable feeling. ellie's kisses move away from your neck, down your body. trailing down your collarbone to your clothed chest to your stomach. her lips stop, hovering right above your pussy.

your heart was beating out of your chest, you back arching a little in anticipation. "how bad do you wan' it? tell me, baby. tell me how much you wan' me." she was totally and utterly obsessed with you, her mind becoming drunk by the thought of you— the mere sight of you. "p-please, els..." you mumbled, voice timid from embarrassment. it was partially expected though, you'd never done anything like this. "i want you..." it was simple but effective, making ellie go feral for you. "fuck—"

she lowers her lips to your pussy, kissing over the fabric of your shorts. watching her through hooded eyes, your pussy throbbing from her touch. "gonna eat this pussy s'good. show you what you've been missin' out on." she groans, the fabric of your shorts dampening as she trails her tongue over the sensitive area. ellie surprised herself, shocked that she was able to dirty talk to you so easily like this. your hips were writhing against the bed, more eager than you've ever been in your entire life. you felt dirty for wanting this, knowing that god was watching you become a total slut for ellie.

ellie's fingers hooked on your shorts, pulling them down slow as slow could be, chuckling as you whined. "ellie. ellie, please." you muttered, begging for her to hurry up. ellie's eyes rolled back, the sound of you begging getting her more aroused than she's ever been. no one's ever made her feel like this before. she was done with the teasing, if not for your sake but for hers. she pulled your shorts and underwear off swiftly, discarding them somewhere to find later.

her eyes locked on your bare pussy, fighting back a moan at the sight. "you've got me so fucked up, babe." she muttered, kissing around your thighs first. you were nervous, breath shallow and quick paced, hungry for ellie but embarrassed nevertheless. your voice was caught in your throat, blinking quickly as you watched ellie kiss all over your thighs. ellie looked up at you and you were able to see that she was just as nervous as you. "is this okay? you can tell me to stop." she sounded sincere, pushing aside her pure need to get your consent.

you nodded, not trusting your voice. "use your words like the good girl you are, yeah?" she's longing to just taste your glistening cunt. "yes— yes, els. 't's okay..." she doesn't waste another second after hearing your shaky voice, tongue urgently dipping between your wet folds. you moan at the contact, feeling like you were on cloud 9. ellie's tongue presses flat against your clit, your hand clamping over your mouth. moans being muffled as ellie savors the sweet noises your dripping cunt was making.

ellie wasn't fond of you muffling your perfect little sounds, wanting to hear just how good she could make you feel. "let me hear you. don't make me punish you.." you don't move your hand away from your sinful mouth. your free hand finds ellie's, interlocking your fingers which she gladly accepts. "c'mon, baby. let me hear you." she encourages once more, lips moving against you with ease, mixture of your wetness and her spit. but to her dismay, you still ignored her commands. her free hand sliding your shirt up your body to expose your breasts, you were never one to wear a bra. her hand kneading the supple flesh, thumb running over your nipple.

she licks a strip from your entrance to your clit, making your thighs shake with immense pleasure. "wanna be a brat?" she mumbles into your pussy, looking up at you through her eyelashes, staring you down as her tongue circles your clit. "what is it they make you do in confession? hail mary's? 5 of 'em, now. or i stop." she smirks, watching the look in your eye become more flustered by her request. you slowly move your hand away from your mouth, not wanting this pleasure to ever stop.

"h-hail mary, full of grace—" you cut yourself off with a moan, eyes squeezing shut as you lift your hips, pushing your cunt further into ellie's face. "get to ruin this pretty pussy." ellie groans. "keep goin'. don't stop." she aids you to continue, feeling your cunt flutter around her tongue. "the lord is with— is with thee..." you continue, stuttering through the words. "good girl, keep goin' f'r me. let me hear you." she continues to egg you on, talking into your pussy. her own moans mixing in with the sound of yours.

"blessed art thou— ellie, please..." you whine, squeezing her hand and throwing your head back into the pillow, back arching off the bed. "c'mon, pretty girl. blessed art thou..." you toes curl at her words and the feeling of her tongue teasing your entrance. "—amongst... amongst women..." you trail off, mind becoming to hazy to even remember the words to the prayer you've prayed everyday since you could talk. ellie smirked into your cunt, relishing in the feeling of being able to turn your mind into mush, being the only one able to turn your mind into mush.

your moans and whines became breathier and higher pitched with each flick of her tongue. your stomach twisting in an unfamiliar knot. "ah, ah, ellie—" your thighs trying to clench together and push her head away, the feeling becoming too much. "you're gonna cum, baby?" she spreads your legs wider, her only greedy want is to make pleasure wash over you. "ellie! ellie! ellie!" you chant her name, eyes rolling back as the pleasurable wave of your orgasm finally hits you, moans loud and unfiltered.

"there we go... yeah, nice an' easy. fuck." she mutters, tongue fucking you through your high until your writhing and pushing her off of you. her lips relocating to your thighs and slowly working their way up to your pelvic bone, soft kisses against your skin. "tasted so good, baby. best pussy i've ever had." she praises, eager to show you just how much you pleasured her even though you technically didn't make her cum. "els..." you whined, face flushed a rosy red. "yeah, baby. 'm right here." she leaves a trail of kisses up your body as she reaches your lips, leaving a soft peck to let you know she was here. "does this mean you like me too...?" you asked innocently. "are you serious?"

#🍄 ⋆ the last of us #🕰️ ⋆ birds and bees #ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie the last of us #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #the last of us #the last of us x reader #the last of us smut #tlou #tlou x reader #tlou smut #ellie wiliams #ellie williams x you #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie smut #ellie x reader smut

[kenjakusbraincum]

can you pls write something about reader being sick and like not the cough and cold kind of sick- like really really sick, and sukuna realising how much he doesn't want to lose her to this sickness and how if she dies, he'll be alone again..🥺

You have NO idea how much I love this idea!!! I did go a bit overboard with it cause I love suffering though 👍 Still, this was SO much fun to write and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Vows

Sukuna x Reader

Word count: 4.5k

Tags/warnings: gn! reader, true form! sukuna, master/pet dynamic, fluff but most importantly ANGST, mentions of weight loss, mentions of violence, implied nsfw, reader dies in the end :( (sorry)

It's not the first time Sukuna has been made aware of your mortality. He recalls many instances when he's been reminded that you are human. Finite. The first time he wrapped his hand around your throat and squeezed with calculation while you were laying under him, and you looked up at him in fear for your life. Your little hand couldn't even wrap around his wrist, much less provide resistance. Or when he'd pull your hair a little too roughly, and hear a crack in your delicate spine. When you'd get sick, and humbly refuse his healing. So little as a tummy ache had you writhing on your bed.

You are so weak, so small, clinging to life like there was anything for you in it, beyond Sukuna. By all means he hates all of these things. So what witchery is this, and why does he care about you so much? Why does he keep you for years, and why does your company bring him comfort he hasn't ever known in his lifetime?

Still, as much as he cares, he doesn't notice when it starts. He's trained you to tolerate pain, after all. It's no wonder you hesitate to tell him. Little things like tummyaches and colds occur to you all the time anyways, and you never complain. Sure, you've grown closer to Sukuna, but he was still your master, and the rules he instilled in you from the start were always fresh in your mind, not to be crossed. Bothering him with everything that feels off always seemed inappropriate.

And Sukuna is just like that. If you're not screaming or crying, he won't know you're in pain. But he notices that you're acting off. And how he reacts really doesn't help your case, or encourage you to speak up about your condition. ''I don't have all day. What is wrong with you?'', he sneers when he catches you pacing too far behind him.

So you just sleep longer and preserve energy for when you are with him. You don't skip around as much anymore, or spend time doing your hobbies. Food doesn't taste so great anymore. You have a cough that gives you sleepless nights because it just won't calm down. And the time you owe Sukuna starts to feel like an obligation. You start to dread it. Dread slipping up, dread annoying him or failing to satisfy him. Dread being disposable.

When things start getting worse, it's hard to hide it even from him. He was taking you from behind one night, and you were grateful he couldn't see the look on your face. You thought you could do it. Sukuna was always demanding, but he would never force you to do anything. If only you told him before you felt yourself struggling for air, and your chest closing in on itself in tightness. You reached one hand back, frantically grabbing his wrist.

''Feathers, feathers!'', words came out as gasps, and you slumped forward when he let you go. You were panicked and crying by then, this kind of discomfort being foreign even to you, even after weeks of pain behind you. He hovered next to you with a puzzled look on his face. He wasn't even being that rough.

''What's wrong? Tell me.'', he said, and reached his hand to feel the warmth of your tears streaming down your face. He swiped your cheek gently. He didn't seem mad at all. Why didn't you say anything from the start?

''I just feel so sick.'', you muster up in between sobs, and shut your eyes. You were too embarrassed to even look at him.

''I see.''. His hand leaves your face, and he traces it from your neck down your spine. The pain subsided slowly, allowing you to relax and find comfort in his arms.

But the effects of his healing were short lived. Just a week later the feeling of fatigue creeps back into your life. Manageable, but lingering. And the cough persists. And it gets on Sukuna's nerves too. He's been quite patient with you, but his patience was reaching it's limit.

You're sitting by his throne as you often do, and as hard as you try to hold the cough in, you just can't help it. His hand finds the back of your neck and squeezes, turning you to him. And he looks at you with all four, terrifying eyes. ''Can you shut up?''

''I'm sorry, I'm trying -'', you stutter, but just end up coughing more. He doesn't wait for you to stop.

''Get out of here.'', and pushes you away. You stumble down the pile of bones and fall, landing on your hands and knees. You don't remember him being this cruel to you in a long time. You look back at him with teary eyes, and he looks back like the merciless monster he is. The villagers awaiting him moved to make space for your fall, taking note of the tense situation.

That day, Sukuna sends word that he doesn't want to see you until you get better. You're forbidden from going outside again, in fear that that is making your 'cold' worse. It's a lonely week in your room, until Sukuna starts to crave you again. It didn't take him a while, counting the couple days he spent convincing himself he doesn't miss you. He does. So when he sends word for you again, and the servants come back to him saying you're still not feeling well... he's worried. So worried he comes to see it for himself.

Sukuna rarely comes to your room. It's the only space you have for yourself, and he doesn't want to take that away from you. Your room is modest. You have a bed, a carpet, and a couple shelves to house the books he's gifted you. There's a desk where you can eat and read, and a doorway to the garden. There's an empty glass of water and a napkin next to your bed. You're still sleeping, but the door shutting behind him wakes you up, so he doesn't get to enjoy observing you in your natural habitat for long.

It's not the first time doors opening and closing woke you up. But you know this time is different. The servants are always quickly shuffling around the room, cleaning up and moving around. Uraume clanks with plates. There is no noise now, other than your strained breathing and a cough brewing in the back of your throat. Besides, the aura that Sukuna brings with him everywhere he goes is recognizable. Especially to you. Heavy.

You turn around, and meet the gaze of his four eyes. ''Master...'', you struggle to sit up, and even a little action like that has spots forming in your vision. Then a coughing fit hits you. You pick up the napkin and put it to your mouth.

Sukuna sees your whole body strain with the effort of coughing. And when you call him master, even your voice sounds different. He knows your morning voice. He missed hearing it, but this... this is not it. You sit with your head hung low, staring at the napkin between your hands. There's a fresh splatter of blood on it. But Sukuna scares you more than the progression of your illness.

''Are you mad at me?'', you ask timidly, meeting his gaze.

''I'm concerned.", he says and sits next to you. You curl up to make space for him. "Two weeks is a long time for a frail human like you to be sick.", he looks at you, scanning your form up and down.

"I rested and drank every tea Uraume told me to!", your defense mechanism kicks in, and you start babbling.

Sukuna dismisses you with a hand and a pained facial expression. "I know.", he says. His brows are furrowed now, and he's looking at the ground, lost in thought.

You feel guilty for annoying him again. You feel guilty for the whole thing, getting sick, draining the energy it takes him to heal you, robbing him of the time with you that he deserves. Owns. He is very generous with the way he treats you, having all that in mind.

You tug on his sleeve. "I'm sorry, Master... You deserve better.", and you're sobbing again. Sukuna gives you a pathetic look, but smiles as he pulls you into his embrace.

"Silly pet. I can survive a couple weeks without your assistance.", he says, rubbing your shoulder.

You run your fingers against the back of his hand mindlessly, not knowing how to respond. Caressing his knuckles, bones, veins... feeling his nails and their sharp tips against your sensitive skin. When you bring his palm up to your lips, your kiss stains it red with blood.

-

You still sleep with Sukuna sometimes. Less frequently, only on days when you feel well enough, and those are rare. You've lost weight by now, sickness making itself visible on your body. You're sitting on his lap and clinging to your robes, scared that he won't like you as much, that you won't live up to his standards. But Sukuna's demeanor about your illness has changed, as he seemed to sense something unusual about it. He flips you over so gently, like you're made of glass, and peppers kisses from your neck downwards, slowly undressing you as much as you allow him. When he takes you, he's so careful. Constantly checking you're comfortable and enjoying yourself. You feel so loved and relaxed, and pleasure comes so easy when you're in this state. It's not the first time Sukuna is this caring with you in bed, but this time is different. This time you can't help but feel like he's saying goodbye.

He holds you afterwards, tracing his fingers over the ridges of your spine and your shoulders. You were always little in his grasp, but now that he feels your protruding bones under his fingertips, you seem all the more vulnerable.

"Will you kill me?", you ask, breaking the silence.

Sukuna frowns. "Nonsense. Why would I do that?"

There's a gulp in your throat. "It won't be long before I can't even do this. I won't be of any use to you then...", you say.

"Stop.", he says sternly. "There's a lot more to you than what you provide me with in bed."

You smile to yourself, but there's still a hole in your chest. Your statement is still true, and you aren't comforted. But this is Sukuna, and you know that he's offered you quite a lot even with that little bit of reassurance. To your surprise, he speaks again.

"Don't upset yourself. It's been a long time since killing you crossed my mind.", he says. "Save the energy for something else."

You nod and thank him. Just moments later, you're asleep. Quicker than ever before, he notes. You usually love it when he lets you cuddle and talk to him. You would force your eyes open when you were sleepy, just to enjoy it longer.

He feels guilty. He's your master, he's responsible for your well being. Yet nothing he does seems to help you long term. Healing you is temporary and he knows that without accessing the source, it will never work. If he could, he would find what was making you sick and rip it out of you with his bare hands, crush it with the force of his palm. He would have to look deeper, open you, and for once, he thinks he can't open a human being. He thinks of you trashing, screaming, and worst of all, looking into his eyes. Just the thought of you like that makes his chest feel like a gaping cavity. Worst of all, he's sure you would let him. He's sure you would forgive him for spilling your blood, and find comfort in his arms again. If you survived, that is. What has he done to you? And to himself?

Now, your head rests on his chest, and you're snoring lightly. For once, a repetitive noise like that doesn't annoy him. For once, he wishes he could listen to it every night. One day, that noise will be the only thing audibly confirming you're still alive.

-

Months pass and you're only getting worse. You barely leave your room now, too weak to even do so. You eat little, and it's showing in your sunken cheeks and eyes. You feel yourself withering away, loosing color, drying like a dying flower. Sukuna is in grief. He struggles to look at you, and visiting you falls heavy on him every time. He always finds himself thinking afterwards. Regretting that he let himself get this attached, wishing that he could simply forget you. But it doesn't work that way.

He goes to see you, after avoiding you for a week. He's Sukuna, he doesn't have any shame. You're sleeping, like you usually are when he comes to visit you. Your snoring is laboured, and it sounds painful. This time, the doors and the silence don't wake you up. He watches you, curled up under a stack of blankets, rising and falling with your struggles to breathe. How foolish he was, to think forgetting you would be as easy as avoiding you for days. How evil he was, trying to forget you while you are still alive under his wing, still his responsibility. Still his.

He sits next to you and leans over you, fingertips ghosting over your face. The snoring stops and you flutter your eyes open, turning in bed and feeling his body next to yours. You smirk at him, eyes adjusting to the light, and smile when you recognize him. ''Master.'', your arms wrap around his neck as you welcome him, your voice dry, but lively as you beckon him closer. ''I missed you.''.

He comes down to plant a kiss to your forehead. ''I missed you too, darling.''. Oh, the things that escape his mouth when he's alone with you. He cups your face, enjoying how much healthier you look with a smile on your face. ''Feeling any better?'', he rubs your cheek, lingering closely above your face.

You nod, but both of you know you only feel better because you saw him. Still, the little surge of happiness that brings you gives you more energy than you've had the whole week. You wiggle to the edge of the bed, making space and inviting him to join you. Sukuna lies down, hooking one arm underneath your neck and pulling you flush against him.

You wrap your arm around him and lean your head against his shoulder. He's still as big as you remember him, unfaltering in the face of your illness. It's comforting. ''You didn't visit in a while. Were you busy?'', you ask, stroking his back. ''How were your days?''

''Monotone.'', he says. ''The villagers bring remedies for you every day, and wish for you to get well.'' It's no wonder. So many times, Sukuna found himself hesitating to kill just because you were sitting on his knee, dressed in something too pretty to be splattered with blood. In the local villages, word spread that you have ''domesticated'' Sukuna. As if such a thing was possible. Or was it?

''Oh?'', you smile. ''I didn't think they would notice my absence.''. You always were supposed to be Sukuna's accessory and nothing more. Remedies and good wishes make it sound like you're more important than just a pet. So it really is that obvious...

''They did.'', he says, and lowers his head, brushing his nose against your face. ''Some took that as an opportunity to gift me new pets.''

You blink at him, a bit taken aback by his honesty. You keep smiling anyways. ''Did you take any?'', you ask, and he sees nothing but genuine curiosity in your eyes. The truth is, you've had a lot of time to think about your place in Sukuna's mansion. You knew, especially in sickness, that you were never entitled to exclusivity with him. You knew that at some point you would have to be replaced, just by the virtue of being a mortal. A human, who would age and become ugly, wrinkled and useless. You were just unlucky enough to meet this fate sooner than you should've.

Sukuna sighs, the weight of the conversation shifting to him. ''Not to bed, no.'', he says.

You're quiet while you think of what to say. You still have a habit of picking words when you're with Sukuna, but the times when he would punish you for improper formulation are far behind you. "Why not?", you settle. You hope the implication is there, that you wouldn't be so mad even if he did.

Why not? Because he thinks it might break him. Because the image of someone else in your place, under him, feels unnatural and wrong. He thinks the guilt might eat him alive. For once in centuries, someone else's needs come before Sukuna's. He is gone, so far gone. You've raised his standards, and he's not sure anyone he takes now will be able to live up to them. Besides, training a new pet to fit your mold would take years, and even then... He couldn't train someone to love him. Not like you do.

''I wouldn't want you to hold back because of me.'', you say, and he realizes he's been quiet for too long. Years ago, if you dared to imply that Sukuna would do such a thing as hold back because of you, that he cared, you would've been minced meat ready for dinner. Now, he looks down at you tenderly when you say it. Well, a tender look from Sukuna is a docile one. You've gotten used to the way that Sukuna communicates love. Subtly, innocuously.

''Worry about getting well, pet.'', he shuts down the conversation, and moves away from you, sitting back on the bed. ''Any wishes? Food? Activities?'', he asks, and feels your forehead with the back of his hand.

Food? No, but... ''I'd like you to stay, please.'', you say, and take his hand with the two of yours, feeling it up with your thumbs.

Sukuna resists the urge to roll his eyes, knowing the thought of annoying him would upset you greatly. ''That's a given. Anything else?''

You pretend to think, then just babble your favorite food. Sukuna takes your order to Uraume. But when he comes back, you're already asleep again. He waits by your side, but you don't wake, so eventually he leaves. By the evening, the plate of your favorite food remains untouched.

-

You can't leave the bed on your own anymore. Sukuna carries you outside when you're feeling good enough. You barely have the strength to latch onto him securely. Still, it's hard to slip out of the grasp of his four arms. He says you've gotten pale. You lay in his lap and bask in the sun, while he tells you about his day or reads a book out loud for you to enjoy. You wish you could talk to him more, but your voice leaves you as days of endless coughing wreck your throat. No herbs and teas ease your condition anymore. You wait for your final day.

And Sukuna doesn't know when he's given up on the idea that you might get better. But he starts spending whole days with you, leaving your side only to sleep in his bed. He tends to almost all your needs personally. You think that if you asked him to get on his knees for you, he would. He is not familiar with this ache that brews in his chest when he looks to his side and doesn't see you there. It feels violating. To be as powerful as he is, and yet completely helpless in the face of the sickness that drains you in front of his very eyes.

He plays with your thinning hair one morning, and you look at him from his lap, as adoringly as always. ''Isn't it funny?.'', you say, and he snaps out of his thoughts to look at you. ''I always imagined dying by your hand.'', you kiss his hand again, planting your dry, blue lips against his knuckles. ''Who would have thought?''.

You, you little human. You made him feel like a fool, like a coward. You made him feel powerless. Who could ever get away unscathed with making Sukuna feel like this? The thought of killing you now, even out of mercy, fills him with horror. He thinks he couldn't live carrying the burden of your death on his back. It's already hard for him as is.

When he's not with you, he withers away in his room, waiting. And when the servants finally come, and tell him you're at your last strengths, he feels as tense as he feels relieved. The servants shake in fear of his reaction, and he simply dismisses them. In a thousand years of his existence, he doesn't remember having to prepare to enter a room. His hand trembles as he brings it up to push the door open. He dreads what awaits him inside.

He expected blood, hysteria, chaos, yet there's none of it when he walks in. Just the pained noises of your breathing. A servant, your favorite, sits by your side and wipes sweat off your forehead. She talks to you in a comforting tone and pats your head gently. When he walks in the room, she lowers her head and moves to leave. It's only a second, but he sees the sad look on your face. ''Stay.'', he orders, and the servant bows and thanks him.

You move your attention to him, raising your hand to greet him weakly. He picks it up and bends down to kiss it. There's tears in your eyes as he settles into a seat next to you, and you open your mouth in an attempt to say something.

''Easy now.'', he shushes you, and helps you into his lap. You lean back, looking at him through a blur. His features appear even more doubled through the tears, and you still find his beauty mesmerizing. Your master. Your own little god and protector. Although he regrets it, you've never claimed the title of his spouse. Yet, he still stuck by your side, until parted by death. In sickness and in health.

He wipes your tears, and the mouth he conjures onto his hand kisses your forehead. One set of his hands caresses your face, the other massages the tension out of your bony shoulders. Sukuna knows how important it is for you to pass in peace. He doesn't want to curse you, or have despair turn you into a curse. "Relax now.", his voice is so soothing, as if lulling you to sleep. "It won't be long". You weep. What did an ordinary human like you do to deserve this honor? To be comforted on their death bed by a god. To be guided to death by him.

"Master.", you sob. "I'm so scared..."

Delicate touch against your skin. Sharp nails grazing your cheek ever so slightly, just barely enough to make their presence known. "Have no fear.", Sukuna looms over you like a snowdrop. "Where you go now, pain won't follow.". You speak to him a little longer. Tell him all the things you always wanted to tell him, but were scared of the consequences. Dangerous words, ones that were rarely associated with Sukuna. Love. And Sukuna is attentive, so human. Your blinking slows and you find comfort in his voice, as he returns every loving word back to you. Your pained breathing follows, and your eyelids are so heavy. But the sight of him is so hypnotizing, you wish you never had to look away. "You are so brave, my little dove. Go now, be free.". You were too good for this wretched palace anyways. The sight of him is etched in your memory as you close your eyes. "It was a pleasure to have you by my side.", you listen, feeling control over your body slip through your fingers. When you can't move, or feel his touch, you still hear his calm voice. "When you're ready, come back to me. I'll be waiting for your return.". Then everything is quiet, for you and for him. The servants cries are muffled by the sheets, where she has her head pressed by your side.

The hallways, silent except for the busy tapping of feet. Outside, the wind blows petals off of blooming flowers, leaving them bare and stranded. Autumn is here to carry you away.

Servants hold their breath when Sukuna walks by. One wrong look at him and the walls would be painted red. Just like before. Before you. And it's not long before Sukuna looks like a monster again - red eyes and a permanent frown etched on his face. Villagers bring bouquets, and lay them to the right of his throne, where you used to sit. He stares them all down, and only for a moment thinks that maybe, humans are not the scum he thought they were. But then he remembers, they only mourn you because you held him back from his destructive tendencies. Scum.

And he kills again. The first is a villager from afar, where news of your passing hasn't reached. Ripped to shreds for mentioning you. The women who screamed, their blood soaks the carpets and seeps through the wooden floor, dripping down to the cellars. He feels like himself again, unhinged, unbeatable.

Until the day is over, and he goes back to his empty room. His cold, empty bed, and the old habit of reaching for you in his sleep, only to grab nothing instead. And the crocheted figures of the two of you on his nightstand, watching him as he struggles to sleep alone. He can't bear it. So he leaves, and doesn't come back for days, weeks, months.

Smoke clouds the skies on the horizon once again, after years and years of peace and clarity. As far as the eye stretches, the world will know of Sukuna's wrath. But as thrilling as it feels to conquer again, when the village is burned and ash covers the grass on the ground, the thought of you still lingers. Your devastated eyes the first time he's killed before you. The first time he's felt guilty about his monstrous nature. When he comes back, no one's warm embrace awaits him. No one's there to brighten up his day. No amount of blood shed and villages burned replace the emptiness you left behind in his heart.

The grief settles, and sits heavy in Sukuna's chest, as he assumes position in his lonely throne again, and gazes at the row of people waiting to beg, talk, offer... bore him. Another eternity of boredom. An eternity of picking through thousands of humans, in vain hopes of finding you again. In vain hopes of recognizing you, even if it's lifetimes from now, when the last memory of your face has already faded from his mind. When generations change, and the thought of a monster like Sukuna being capable of tenderness vanishes. When the fire in his chest, ignited by love, is already a memory so distant, that recalling it feels surreal.

Maybe he will forget you by then. Maybe times will harden him again, and the idea of a pet becoming his lover will make him laugh. But for now, the thought of finding you in a crowd, taking you in his arms and never letting go, is his comfort and safe place. For now, he will wait for you. As long as it takes, like a stone, unyielding against the passing of time.

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk angst #jjk fluff #sukuna fluff #sukuna angst #sukuna #soft sukuna #i love bastardizing sukuna in my fics #also this is totally leading me into a part 2 w reincarnated reader #yes weve heard it a thousand times #idc it makes me happy

[caparrucia]

Full offense and pun fully intended, but I genuinely think the very existence of "dead dove, do not eat" was a fucking canary in the mines, and no one really paid attention.

Because the tag itself was created as a response to a fandom-wide tendency to disregard warnings and assume tagging was exaggerated. And then the same fucking idiots reading those tags describing things they found upsetting or disturbing or just not to their taste would STILL click into the stories and give the writer's grief about it.

And as a response writers began using the tag to signal "no, really, I MEAN the tags!"

But like.

If you really think about it, that's a solution to a different problem. The solution to "I know you tagged your story appropriately but I chose to disregard the tags and warnings by reading it anyway, even though I knew it would upset me, so now I'm upset and making it your problem" is frankly a block, a ban and wide-spread blacklisting. But fandom as a whole is fucking awful at handling bad faith, insidious arguments that appeal to community inclusion and weaponize the fact most people participating in fandom want to share the space with others, as opposed to hurting people.

So instead of upfront ridiculing this kind of maladaptive attempt to foster one's own emotional self-regulation onto random strangers on the internet, fandom compromised and came up with a redundant tag in a good faith attempt to address an imaginary nuance.

There is no nuance to this.

A writer's job is to tag their work correctly. It's not to tag it exhaustively. It's not even to tag it extensively. A writer's sole obligation, as far as AO3 and arguably fandom spaces are concerned, is to make damn sure that the tags they put on their story actually match whatever is going on in that story.

That's it.

That's all.

"But what if I don't want to read X?" Well, you don't read fic that's tagged X.

"But what if I read something that wasn't tagged X?" Well, that's very unfortunate for you, but if it is genuinely that upsetting, you have a responsibility to yourself to only browse things explicitly tagged to not include X.

"But that's not a lot of fic!" Hi, you must be new here, yes, welcome to fandom. Most of our spaces are built explicitly as a reaction to There's Not Enough Of The Thing I Want, both in canon and fandom.

"But there are things on the internet that I don't like!" Yeah, and they are also out there, offline. And, here's the thing, things existing even though we personally dislike or even hate or even flat out find offensive/gross/immoral/unspeakable existing is the price we pay to secure our right to exist as individuals and creators, regardless of who finds US personally unpleasant, hateful or flat out offensive/gross/immoral/unspeakable.

"But what about [illegal thing]?!" So the thing itself is illegal, because the thing itself has been deemed harmful. But your goddamn cop-poisoned authoritarian little heart needs to learn that sometimes things are illegal that aren't harmful, and defaulting to "but illegal!" is a surefire way to end up on the wrong side of the fascism pop quiz. You're not a figure of authority and the more you demand to control and exercise authority by command, rather than leadership, the less impressive you seem. You know how you make actual, genuine change in a community? You center harm and argue in good faith to find accommodations and spread awareness of real, actual problems.

But let's play your game. Let's pretend we're all brainwashed cop-abiding little cogs that do not own a single working brain cell to exercise critical thinking with. 99% of the time, when you cry about any given thing "being illegal!!!" you're correct only so far as the THING itself being illegal. The act or object is illegal. Depiction of it is not. You know why, dipshit? Because if depiction of the thing were illegal, you wouldn't be able to talk about it. You wouldn't be able to educate about it. You wouldn't be able to reexamine and discuss and understand the thing, how and why and where it happens and how to prevent it. And yeah, depiction being legal opens the door for people to make depictions that are in bad taste or probably not appropriate. Sure. But that's the price we pay, creating tools to demystify some of the most horrific things in the world and support the people who've survived them. The net good of those tools existing outweighs the harm of people misusing them.

"You're defending the indefensible!" No, you're clumsily stumbling into a conversation that's been going on for centuries, with your elementary school understanding of morality and your bone-deep police state rot filtering your perception of reality, and insisting you figured it out and everyone else at the table is an idiot for not agreeing with you. Shut the fuck up, sit the fuck down and read a goddamn book.

#shut up rie

[noxtivagus]

hello, lune!!! sliding into your inbox bcs i felt bad if you were the only one who have done such actions. let me do the same as well!! how are you? i hope you are doing fine these days. i have read your posts and sometimes, i worry a lot about you. because, funny to say but i see myself in you. whenever i read what you have to say in your rambles, sometimes i, too, have felt the same way as you did. it pains me to see you in such state so i hope my words can somehow bring you a bit of comfort in your life (*´ω｀*)❤️ it may not be much, it may not help you even the slightest bit but that's alright. at least i tried, if it doesn't work then i'll think of another method to cheer you up and make you feel less sad. to make you feel less suffocated by your thoughts. i hope to whisk away the raining cloud in your head.

i'm glad that you have ffxiv as your coping mechanism. it's always good to have a healthy way of coping around!! i'm sure the game bought you sm comfort and i'm glad that it helped you a lot in your life. video games sure do bring joy in our lives, noh? they are indeed very special to us. i hope you aren't forcing yourself and overworking too much in school! ik that the ph school system is pretty shitty and all but always do remember to look after yourself and don't neglect your own well-being!! using fiction as an escape is good, it's alright to have some sort of distraction from suffocating thoughts. sometimes, it's alright to step down and shut ourselves from the outside world. being isolated from reality is not always a bad thing. there are times where it gets overwhelming and so suffocating so it's okay to distract yourself from it.

being trapped in your mind and binded by the past is indeed a scary thing, yk? i once have been in the same situation, even until now if i were to be honest. it's hard, sometimes you felt like you are on the edge of the steep cliff but i'm sure one day, there shall be a time where you break free from the shackles that chained you down and spread your wings and be free from those that bind you down. you are a very strong person, lune. one of the strongest i've ever met and i'm very proud of you for that.

indeed, the nostalgia you felt, the memories, and the past are the sole proof that you are alive— that you are human and you exist. that you have a mark in society. it's only natural that these mean so much to you. these experiences are part of pur nature as humans. the concept of humanity and reality is indeed confusing. sometimes, you feel your sense of those two slipping away. are we real? are we even human? what is our purpose in life? do we really have to play a role in society? is it possible to understand myself? can people understood me for who i am? is that what i can truly do? do we get an answer for these thoughts? maybe? or maybe not.

the pain you carry is the proof that you are human. you are very much alive. after all, humans cannot be called humans without the concept of pain and suffering. we feel to make us alive and pain is one of those aspect that makes us human. these emotions help us grow and after all, there is a saying that we learn from our mistakes, right? the same applies to pain and suffering. you deserve kindness that you give to others and i hope i can give you that, even the slightest bit of kindness that you gave to me. you made me feel less lonely here at tumblr— a platform where i have no idea where to start or what to do and i'm all alone because my friends don't have this site. i hope i could return the kindness and warmth you gave me one day. humans often get lost and confused, there are times where we get sidetracked. times where we just stop at our tracks and be stuck in one point in life but nonetheless, that's part as our traits as humans.

you are pretty young, lune. it makes me funny to say this as we are both practically in the same age range but!! you should enjoy your life to the fullest. do the things you love and the things you are passionate about. don't let these thoughts hinder you down. i believe that man cannot truly achieve something if they let the negative aspect of emotions become obstacles in their life. i like the way you are thinking, such a good mindset indeed. i aspire to have one similar to yours. it makes me glad that despite your situation, you never let these bring you down but instead look at the brigther picture. indeed, change doesn't come overnight but as long as you take small steps one at a time, you shall become a better and a newer version of yourself.

you are truly, and really a wonderful person. i admire you for that. i hope you have a pleasant evening ahead. do dream of sweet and nice dreams. i'm sorry if this gotten long but i really wanted to say a lot!!! no need to respond to this ask as long as i get to deliver the words i want you to hear.

YORI IM CRYING HFJDASLKFD there's so much i want to write back but i'm genuinely at a loss for words. i hope this is enough for now to let you know how thankful i am.

#🌙.inbox #🌙.moots #— yori ! 🤍 #like. in a good way. i am. wait i'm crying oh my god #usually i get too embarrassed or shy to answer these asks bcs i really get at a loss of what i want to say back but;;; #i wna change that starting now so. i will answer it #FIRST OFF uwah don't be obliged pls everything i do is solely bcs i want to n i don't expect anything in return 🥹 #that said though. thank you. god there's so much i could say but. yeah. thank you. i can only hope that the sentiment comes across #it genuinely means so much to me bcs. i think the words n comfort we share to others really reflect on our own selves as well. like we're #telling that to our own selves as well so. i think you know. i think you understand n relate to it more than i think of right now #it's so weird for me in a way to receive these stuff from others bcs i'm so used to being the one giving 😭😭 #damn i'm really at a loss for words i cried again while reading this n a lot of thoughts were running through my head. even now still #but knowing that there are people out there that / in their own way / knows how it feels to be this way too #like you for example. i think. it means a lot more to me than you'll ever know. so genuinely. thank you from the bottom of my heart #i'm proud of you too actually. i don't know too much about you as an online friend but i think you have gone through difficulties as well #to be able to write and convey something so touching. something so human and real. it's certainly a comfort in this world #i think. i think you're very strong as well to be able to do this for others. and i admire you for that #it really really means more to me than you'll ever know. to read it directly from another is. something i think i consider a luxury #since i usually give it to others but so many times especially with those i know offline. directly in active conversation. it's hard to #really open up n be honest? so just. thank you. as an online friend. for allowing me this opportunity. and for this kindness #hearing all this from another. that in itself means so much to me bcs i often end up unintentionally restraining myself in conversations so #thank you. for reading. for understanding in your own way. and for putting it in your own words and sharing them with me #sob believe me when i say this really means more to me than i could ever put into words. i think it's been a few hours already since #i first read this n started writing but even now at nearly 4 am i'm still at a loss for words so. thank you. genuinely. thank you so much #i'm really glad that i helped someone out there a bit. in my own way. 'kindness' and 'warmth'... 🥹 yori i cried even more /pos #USUALLY I'D BE ABLE TO LIKE. WRITE SMTH BACK BUT. i'm so speechless right now oh my god i really don't know what to write #and so i admire you for being able to do that. for having the courage to reach out (you were the first one that sent an ask to me too) #one day i hope i can. do this for you too. it really comforted me tonight and i'm seriously still speechless but i'll remember this forever #there's so much more i want to say and write right now but. perhaps this is enough for tonight. so i'll say my thanks once more #thank you. i hope you know that your own words really apply to you too. they come from you after all

[moncherellie]

𓆩⚝˚‧no room for the holy spirit ♱꙳˚₊‧

a/n: finally it's here! been screaming into the void abt this one for... ever. a thousand thank yous to @thirsting-over-women who proofread this for me :>> my savior actually. if the religious themes offend you (whether you are religious or have trauma) i encourage you not to read, maybe check out my other works instead :D

content/warnings: 4,500 words, preachers daughter!ellie x fem!reader, nsfw, reader wears a skirt, semipublic/car sex, fingering, oral (r receiving), reader's first wlw experience, sexual awakening?, religious motif, christian themes, mild religious guilt throughout, mentions of religious homophobia, internalized homophobia, ellie smokes a lil, she's a bit mean, fuckin in a church parking lot

The pressures of being a teenage girl were hard enough without the pressures of being a gay teenage girl. Being a gay teenage girl was hard enough without the pressures of being the daughter of a fucking preacher. Ellie had never really bought into the whole 'organized religion' thing, ever the skeptic. Even as a puny 8-year-old, she asked why she had to wake up early every Sunday for something she didn't even like doing. Her attitude didn't change much after that, but her parents got stricter and stricter in an attempt to control her sacrilege. She didn't spend much time with her family, instead seeking familial bonds at school, especially with her mechanics teacher, Mr. Miller. But, you know what they say:

Strict parents raise sneaky children.

And it's true. If Ellie's dad knew what she was doing outside the holy walls of the ministry, he'd have an aneurysm and have her exorcised. But, she always thought, what he doesn't know won't hurt him.

You were the opposite. Raised the same as Ellie, you took to religion and fully participated, though mostly out of obligation. Just go every week for an hour and your family will leave you alone. This tactic, for the most part, worked. Your traditional family had their rough moments, specifically when they mocked the outfits you'd wanted to wear to service and called you some... unsavory names. But if you could avoid any similar incident, any clash with authority, you were taking the holy road.

On the outside, you were the purest of people. There was never a bad or dirty thought in your mind. You were a pillar of the community, someone that parents pointed out to their kids. "Be like them," they'd say. Your parents were proud, so you should've been proud. Should've.

You and Ellie had grown up quite close due to being in similar social groups and seeing each other every week at service. Since then, you'd grown apart as you took different paths in life, though you still felt a sense of commitment toward her; So when she cursed out her father in front of the clergy, your eyes widened.

"You fucking dick! You don't know shit about anything! You use all this- this... bullshit- as a crutch so you don't have to own up to your own baggage!"

As she stormed out, you silently move from your spot in the choir, doe eyes shining in the bath of stained glass light, and shuffle up to the front of the room.

"Father, if I may, I would like to go check on your daughter." You're a model fixture, a saint.

"Of course, my child. I hope someday she'll be more like you. I pray that-" You shuffle off again, not wanting to hear about how he wishes his daughter was different. He really wishes his child hid who she was, you think bitterly. You admired Ellie's rebellion, though you'd never say it, and you wished you were as strong as her.

You walk away from the church to the little park you and Ellie used to go to. Your memories flood with nostalgia for simpler times, and you smile to yourself, pleasantly strolling through the large trees and foliage and looking for the rough girl. You find her crouching against a tree, squatting with her head between her legs.

Is she crying?

"... Ellie? Are you alright?" You whisper, not wanting to startle her.

You notice Ellie tense up before quickly standing up and whipping around to face you, a hand behind her back. "Oh! It's... you. Hey. Aren't you s'posed to be inside?"

"Yeah, but I just wanted to check on you. That was intense in there."

"Mhm, I'm good. Just needed some, ah, fresh air. Y'know?" She sounds a little too jolly, weirdly chipper. It's suspicious.

"Uh-huh," you say, unconvinced. "Whatcha got there?" You point to whatever she's trying to conceal.

She knows she's been caught. Her attitude suddenly shifts from faux-innocence to her usual snarky persona as she rolls her eyes, leaning against the tree and revealing what she had. She brings her hand up to her lips. "Nothing."

"Ellie!" You shriek. "You can't do that! Where'd you even get a cigarette?"

She laughs as if you'd said the funniest thing imaginable. "You think this is a cigarette? Are you stupid? No offense. But are you stupid?"

You scoff. "No! I mean, you're smoking it. What else am I supposed to guess?"

"A blunt, idiot. Kush. Mary Jane. Weed. Ma-ri-jua-na." She spells out for you like you're a toddler.

You cross your arms defensively. "Okay, I know what weed is, smart guy. You still shouldn't have it. Where's it from?"

"Stole it. I just wanted to see why people liked it so much. They say it relieves stress, and I think yes." Ellie grins lazily, eyes lidded. "I got another. You want?"

The answer to your question only makes you freak out more. "No! And you stole?! You stole? Oh my goodness, Ellie, you're gonna get us thrown in jail or something!"

Ellie wordlessly watches your breakdown, eyes red and amused, the corner of her mouth turned up. "Relax, man, it's barely illegal. Who's calling the cops for a single gram? Don't be lame like that."

"Lame?" You scoff. "Are you a first grader? Ellie, it's against the law, you could go to prison. And it's not juvie anymore, you're gonna go to real jail!" Your hands flail around wildly as you explain the repercussions of her actions.

"Jail..." She rolls her eyes.

"Yes, jail! That's kinda what happens when you steal something, Ellie!" The high-pitched, prissy tone with which you said her name was starting to annoy her, but the way you looked when flustered was intriguing. Maybe in another context, she'd enjoy hearing her name fall from your lips.

Ellie takes another hit, looking up at you. She tilts her head, asking if you're being serious. "Jail? Over a single blunt? Who cares that much?"

You gasp when you realize: "I'm an accomplice!"

"You're not an accessory just because you're here." She chuckles as the wind blows past and carries her smoke near your head as you duck dramatically and swat away the smoke. She looks at you for a moment, slightly smiling. Her green eyes meet yours briefly before turning her attention back to the joint.

"Why are you using it anyway? It smells rancid."

"Already told you. I wanna know why people do it. It relieves stress and I'm plenty stressed. Plus, I look dope as shit with it, right?" Ellie leans against the tree, and a small part of you wants to say yeah, you do. "You should try it. Maybe get that stick out of your ass."

"You're gonna get addicted."

"God, it's just this once. What are you gonna do, tell my dad?" She chuckles to herself, taking a long drag.

She checks you out, head to toe, examining the flowy fabrics and neat hair and the Mary Jane shoes that drive her crazy. Who wears those? Her gaze returns to meet yours, and she looks utterly dumbfounded by you. Your eyebrows furrow as you see how her expression changes. "What's that look for?"

She shrugs nonchalantly. "I dunno. You're just so robotic. It's like you never think about stepping the teensiest bit out of line. It's creepy. You've never had an independent thought in your life. Have you ever done anything even remotely rebellious?"

You make a noise that seems to say Well why would I? "No! Of course not! And you shouldn't either, I mean look at your dad, he's-"

Her voice raises, a tone you've never heard and don't care to hear again. "-My father? You mean the preacher?" She mocks. "What about him? You don't know anything about my father." Ellie's look hardens, eyes steely and mouth pursed into a thin line. It's a look you've seen maybe twice before, both in much more tense situations. Her voice says that you can't change her mind. You don't care to try. Whatever she's referencing, you believe her.

"Okay. Okay... sorry." You say gently, losing the defensive energy you'd held a moment ago. Ellie sighs and takes an irritated puff. To relax, you think.

"And you always apologize. It's so weird. You need to loosen up a bit." Another long, somehow sarcastic hit. "What's the worst thing you've *ever* done?"

An embarrassing, very private thought crosses your mind. You obviously can't tell her what you think about at night- you're barely able to admit to yourself that you have such impure thoughts. Instead, you shake your head. "Can't- I can't think of anything."

You watch her forest green eyes roll up, then down. It's a very familiar expression on her. "Thought so." She grins up at you, and you look away into the treeline nervously. "Do you wanna try something fun?"

"Is it... illegal?"

"No. Don't worry about that." She motions for you to come closer, so you take a tentative step forward, eyeing her like a wild animal. She hates the way you look at her, making her feel alien. Just because she lives authentically. It makes her want to ruin you, to have you stoop down to her level. Then maybe you won't look at her as if she were extraterrestrial.

You need an attitude adjustment, you need to chill the fuck out, you needed to get fucked, and hard. Ellie thinks she can help you with that.

She grins that toothy smirk as she watches you step closer, taking a puff and placing the blunt between her slender fingers. She doesn't miss the way your eyes trail the two long fingers that hold it. You wonder if she's doing this on purpose.

Ellie backs you up against a tree, and you recognize is as the same old oak that you would climb with her as kids. The branches and bark have left scars on you that Ellie helped you heal. She wonders how they look now.

Your back hits the trunk with an unceremonious thump, and you startle. Ellie keeps walking toward you, now getting uncomfortably close. "Uh- so what are we..." You trail off, thinking she'll explain what she's doing right in your face. She doesn't.

Her arm raises, trapping you between the tree and her body as she studies you. It makes you want to crawl out of your skin, but feels incredibly electric at the same time- it's a sensation you've only felt around her, though you don't know why. She takes another hit and you nervously look away.

She tilts your jaw back to look at her. You have to face her pretty green eyes, unwavering as she stares you down, while you sneak glances just to check if she's still there. Your breath speeds up when she leans closer.

Ellie puts her stupid pink slightly chapped adorable smiling lips near the base of your neck.

"What are you doing?" You say breathlessly. You swear that you feel her ghosting over your skin, so close, yet not as close as you want her. Maybe if you lean in...

Before you can, she breathes out her smoke, lightly trailing her lips down your neck. Her tongue comes out to prod at the skin, tasting you. You whine. The smoke envelops the two of you, and your nose crinkles at the foul smell. You look down to chastise her but she's already looking at you with those eyes and that cheeky look. No matter what you say next to defend yourself, you know you're caught, that Ellie knows she's affected you. It's in your eyes, the way you've seized up so tightly, how you look at her like you can't wait to see what she does next.

She presses a chaste kiss on your collarbone and you crane your neck upward. You're not sure if you're trying to get away or if you're giving her more access. She pulls away and you find yourself leaning forward to try to get her back on you.

"Is that the most rebellious thing you've ever done?" She chuckles, taking another drag and blowing it over you, bathing you in the white haze. "You like being treated like that, huh?"

You shiver. "I don't get it," you say dumbly. You've never been this confused.

"What don't you get? I just think it's fun to make you squirm." She thinks you've had enough and blows her next exhale away from you. "I wanna corrupt you, sweetheart." It sounds derogatory coming from her but you find that you don't mind the tone. The spot Ellie had made contact with feels as if it's burning. You crave for that feeling all over your body.

You stammer over your words, pathetically unable to spit out any sort of coherent reaction to her. Any reaction would be better to tripping over your words. Fed up with trying to sound like a person, you decide to stop talking.

"You enjoyed that huh? Admit it." She inhales and repeats her action. "Makes you feel hot inside."

"What? No- no, are you insane?" The sane part of you is telling you that you shouldn't be doing this, especially not with Ellie fucking Williams of all people. She's everything you aren't- she's rude and snarky and devilish... and tall and strong and hot. Oh shit! The batshit insane part of you is slowly melting the angel on your shoulder, and you can basically see the little devil cackling as you feel yourself straying further from the good girl persona you'd cultivated. You feel your heartbeat in your pants.

Ellie begins to kiss down your neck, sucking and licking at your jaw and collarbone. This time, you're acutely aware that you're actively giving her access to do as she pleases with you. "Maybe I'm insane, but I can tell. You did like it. And if you deny, I'll do it again until you tell the truth."

"Well I didn't, so you can forget about-"

She places her thumb on your lower lip as you start your tirade, effectively shutting you up. "Too late." Ellie leans in and before you know it, her lips are on yours. Her arm snakes around the back of your waist and pulls you as close to her as you've ever been. That warm feeling flushes down your body, leaving chills across your skin. More. All you can think is that you want more. Your hands come up to grip her shoulders, you almost want to push her away, but you find yourself pulling her closer and closer. No room for the Holy Spirit.

Ellie pulls away, smugly looking down at you. "Told you you liked it."

"I didn't say that." You were being a contrarian on purpose at this point. Anything to keep Ellie treating you like this- you wanted to prolong this moment for however long you could. She hoists you up, bringing you out of the park and into the back of the parking lot. She throws you into the backseat of her beaten pickup and crawls atop you with darkened eyes.

You squeal in surprise. "El-lie!"

She continues to kiss you, making you wetter by the second. The heat pooling in your panties is so fucking embarrassing, but you find that you don't care how humiliating this is. You just want more.

"Els, what if someone sees?"

She scoffs as if the idea is preposterous; as if the prospect of getting caught is impossible. "Nobody can see us, and they won't leave until later. Don't stress about it." Ellie bites her lip and it makes your body get hot flushes. "I can do whatever I want to you. But you know what? I think you'd let me. Is that right?"

"...Maybe." Read: Yes, yes, anything! She leans down, placing her hand on the back of your neck and pulling your head closer up towards her. Her hand forces your legs apart further to allow her access. The way she lays on your inner thighs, atop your clothed core, makes you feel lightheaded. You love the way she manhandles you, and it's exactly how you thought she'd be. Every time she adjusts her position, your clit rubs against her and sends jolts of electricity up your body.

"I knew it. You're not as perfect as you try to be. You're dirty."

You want to deny it, you really do, but the evidence is clear. You're disheveled under her, lips swollen from hers, and she's pulling your panties to your ankles and shoving them in her jacket pocket, yet you're ashamed to say that you don't feel an ounce of guilt over it.

Despite how excited you are for whatever is about to happen, you're still incredibly nervous. This is the most physically vulnerable you've ever been with another person, and the fact that you're completely bare under your skirt makes your stomach flip.

Your face must betray your emotions because Ellie momentarily softens. She pulls her hands away from your hips and cups your face, peppering kisses across your cheeks and up to your forehead, making you laugh lightly. "You alright? We can stop."

"No... please don't." Her face lights up.

"Sorry, say that again?" You roll your eyes and she chuckles. "I knew you were like this. Not so pure now, huh?"

"Guess not."

"So you admit it?"

"...Fine. Yes."

Ellie sighs in relief as if her thirst were quenched- that's what she's been wanting to hear from you forever. She could see it in the way you snuck glances at her during mass, finding your wandering, hungry eyes from across the room. She could feel it in the way your hand lingered on her a little too long to be friendly, your touch suspiciously light, like if you touched her any harder you'd start to tremor.

But now, there's no semblance of the timid person you'd been. When Ellie pulls away, your hand comes up to the back of her neck to pull her back in. You're insatiable, and Ellie fucking loves it. She tugs at the bottom of your sweater. "Pull that fucking thing off. Show me those pretty tits." Her breath becomes heavy as you oblige and become needier. "Did you know you were this easy?" She teases.

"What? I'm- I'm not." Everything she says feels designed to evoke the biggest reaction from you. She keeps you on your toes, never letting you get too comfortable. How exciting.

"So it's just for me then?" You don't answer, and it excites Ellie to know that she's right. This reaction is purely for her. Nobody else has seen you like this, and she's grateful to be the one who gets to corrupt you. It really didn't take much effort. "You're so easy to control."

Her hands drift back to your thighs, sliding under your skirt, her lips press to your jawline. Hot breath trails along your neck, down further to your collarbone. Her fingers slide over your inner thighs, sensitive skin rippling as she applies light pressure, testing how reactive you are. You twitch, unwittingly opening your legs more and giving Ellie more access. "You look good like this, though."

Ellie's fingers dig into you, grasping the flesh of your ass and moaning softly into your ear. Her thumbs are on either side of where you desperately need her, and your hips buck up into her, seeking her touch. "Knew you had a nice ass, too."

"Shut up." You mumble.

"Why would I? You like it when I say things like that, don't you? You wouldn't be this drenched if you didn't." She swipes the pad of her thumb over your clit and applies delicious pressure. You nearly cum on the spot.

Is this what you've been missing? This pleasure, this euphoria? Ellie grins at your reaction, drinking in your desperation for her like a succubus. "Aw, sensitive little pussy. Haven't you touched yourself like this before?"

You had, a few times, actually, but it never went this far, deep-rooted guilt gnashing in your stomach and ending the moment before you'd been able to finish. After admitting this, she coos at you. "Poor baby." Her tone is so condescending, but it makes you clench around the tip of her fingers.

She slides the first knuckle of two fingers past your entrance, pumping them in and out painfully slowly. "Ellie, you prick. Come on." She continues her ministrations, gently stroking your entrance, never giving you enough to feel remotely satisfied. She uses this time to take in your disheveled, sweaty appearance. Your cute tits bounce as you shift uncomfortably, waiting for Ellie to please you. A bead of sweat rolls down and she can't help but bring her mouth up to lick at it as it slides over your nipple. Her mouth attaches to you and you sigh, holding her closer by her hair. She grins up at you, making eye contact through her lashes. You can see the tip of her tongue poking out, wetting your bud as the cool air nips at you, making you all the more sensitive. Even now, Ellie still hasn't stopped her teasing below.

"Can't call me a prick then beg for me to fuck you. 's not how it works, pretty girl."

"Then what do you want?" You whine.

Ellie can feel your clit flutter and pulse as she moves. "Fuck, you're so desperate for me, aren't you? I want you to tell me how bad y' want me."

"I- I d-" You begin to protest, being cut off with a squeal as Ellie licks a sloppy stripe up your pussy, finally tasting you.

"Don't bullshit me. If I'm gonna fuck you, I needja to be a little more honest with me. I see how you look at me. You been trying to push some thoughts down, huh?"

It was so humiliating how well she could read you. Whenever her tongue came out of her mouth to take communion, your eyes would be trained on the muscle, breath hitching as she would wink at you. Without fail, you would trail your gaze up her body when Ellie walked in with a suit, her way of dressing nicely for service. Always, always, she could feel the heat radiating off your body as she pulled you closer, not taking her eyes off the pastor speaking.

Your thoughts were impure, sinful, and how embarrassing that Ellie knew. You believed you were hiding it well- obviously not.

"Yeah. Maybe."

Ellie's big hands wrap around your thighs, fingers landing on the sensitive skin near your pussy. She looks up at you and you can feel her hot breath on your clit. It takes everything in Ellie to not eat you out immediately, but your embarrassment is too tempting to pass up.

"Tell me about it. You try to fuck yourself thinkin' of me?"

"I do. I- I tried to, at least. Doesn't work."

"Why not, babe? You're so responsive right now." Her fingers find their place back at your entrance, pushing in as you speak.

"I- oh, shit-" You gasp.

Ellie grins. "Talk to me."

"My fingers aren't good enough."

"Ah," she says, "and mine are?" She knows the answer.

"So good."

Ellie likes that she's made you desperate enough that you've abandoned your pride. She enjoys the flush on your face as you shamelessly admit your secrets to her, the good-girl persona a figment of the past.

She's so busy staring up at how your face contorts in pleasure that she doesn't realize that she hasn't moved her fingers in a hot minute. The teasing is torturous for you.

"Ellie," she hears you whine, "Please!" You rut your hips against her fingers and she feels lightheaded. Jesus fucking Christ.

"Sorry, pretty girl. Got distracted." She smirks. "I'll give you what you want now." Ellie finally moves her fingers, curling them in and out slowly. You groan again and she laughs. "Okay, okay! Sorry." Her face darkens and she bites her lip. "You want me to fuck you? Alright, I'll fuck you."

Ellie's fingers begin to pump inside you, hitting all the spots that make you jump and squirm, and you're sure the rusted heap of a car you're in is about to fall off its chassis. She's going so fast and hard that you're immediately overwhelmed and you don't know where to put your hands. In the span of a minute, they cup your face, a forearm slings over your eyes, and you throw your arms up against the window. Finally, you settle on cupping your cheeks, fingers slit open so you can peer down at Ellie's focus on you.

Her eyes haven't left your pussy since she started. She's absolutely mesmerized by how fucking wet you are, how you seem to suck her fingers back in as she tries to pull out and your body betrays how desperately you want her. Ellie's mouth is slightly agape and she can't help when her tongue flickers out to lick curiously at your clit, wanting to taste you again.

"Fu- fuck!" You yelp, bucking your hips up into her face. Ellie snorts as she watches how you squirm. You can feel something building and though you have an idea of what it is, it's building fast and slightly scaring you. "Wait, Els, hold on a second, something- ah- I think- I think I'm-"

You're nervous about how it creeps up on you so suddenly but you find there isn't time to be self-conscious about it because you cum, and you wonder why God could possibly think that doing this is a sin. How could it be a sin if it felt so right?

You don't know what sound you made or how your face looks, but by the way Ellie looks up at you, it must've been something. Her eyes flicker back down to how your clit pulses as you finish, leaking cum onto her fingers and trailing down her hand. You know what she's fucking thinking because you always do. Before you can form a sentence, she's licking up your cum like it's the best meal she's tasted.

You shudder violently. "Ellie, holy fuck, stop, I'm still sensitive! Oh m- Ellie, come on!" Only when you push her face up does she stop, giving you the cheekiest grin.

You roll your eyes and throw your head back against the car door, panting. The dull ache in your thighs is apparent when you attempt to sit, pulling your panties up and cringing at how your cum pools on them.

Ellie still hasn't said anything. You glance over at her, wondering how she feels about whatever just happened. She's looking down, grey hoodie still pulled up to her elbows, staring at the fingers she'd just fucked you with. She glances up at you, a shit-eating grin spreading across her face. 

“That was hot.” Her hand rubs up and down your thigh, a kind of comfort you’d never received from her. It wasn’t unwelcome.

You don’t quite know how to feel. There are twinges of guilt gnawing at your stomach, that religious guilt creeping in. Had you done something wrong? 

But at the same time, there was a warmth in Ellie’s gaze that made you feel like maybe, it was all worth it. Was it unholy? Almost definitely. But this awakening couldn’t be all bad if she kept looking at you with those soft, fond eyes.

my masterlist...

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x reader smut #tlou2 x reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams smut #fem reader #moncherellie writing #ellie williams oneshot #tw religion #tw religious trauma #tw #ellie williams

[lymtw]

When Toji finds out that you get yourself off when he's not around, he's blatantly offended. You recognize jealousy on Toji's face when you see it. It's not always pretty, but sometimes you think it's the most beautiful way you'll ever see him. He looks at you with those eyes. Those merciless, yet disarming, green eyes. You've told him before that they are one of your greatest weaknesses, and since then he uses them to his advantage at any given chance.

Shiu called Toji to notify him about a last minute mission, and though you begged him to stay, he reminded you of how this could be the one that brings both of you out of the struggle to make ends meet.

You were blinded by the amount of time you had spent with him. A week straight, no interruptions until Shiu called. It was one of the best weeks of your life, and that only further devastated you when you couldn't talk him out of leaving.

To make things worse, he wasn't able to reconcile with you and comfort you before he left. Shiu was rushing him, but all he could think about was how you turned your back to him, not even wanting to look at him before he left.

He answered Shiu's phone call for three seconds, an enraged, "I'm going. Jesus, fuck," before hitting the end call button. He stands at your shared bedroom doorway for a few seconds more seconds, still only getting a look at the back of your head. "I'll be back, princess. Gonna make it up to you, so wait up for me."

—

The mission wasn't difficult at all. It was so easy that he even attempted to contact you while he scouted the close quartered area. You didn't pick up a single one of the six calls he made, letting them all go straight to voicemail each time. It was irritating. He wanted to hear your voice, he wanted you to listen to him, he wanted to tell you that he was rushing this mission so that he could sprint home to you.

Once he got his dirty work done, he tried your phone again, and again, but you were still letting his calls go to voicemail. So, he decided to text you.

Babe, answer.

I know you're upset, but i'm on my way home now

Baby, please

You read his messages, sighing before throwing your phone across the room. He never says no to Shiu when it's about a job. You've accepted this before, but after spending a whole uninterrupted week with Toji, feeling like things would remain that way for longer than they did, it was hard to remember that life was gonna merge back in again at some point. Your vacation hours would run out and you would have to go back to work, and Toji would be hired to hunt someone down again. It was just disheartening to find out that it would happen so soon, and that Toji would jump back into routine so quickly.

You see one of his shirts at the end of the bed and reach for it. It was flipped inside out and balled up, so you know it was worn by him. Just holding it in your lap, you can smell Toji's scent. You bring it up to your nose, and your heart begins to race. Toji wore this. He's not there with you, so that's the closest you'll get to him until he's physically in front of you again.

You bury your face into the rolled up shirt, inhaling deeply. The scent really works at pushing you to forgive him for leaving. His scent was debiliating. It brought vulnerability to a moment where it was just you on the bed you share with your man. You were missing him and wishing he weren't so obligated to his work. It stirred up feelings that couldn't be contained.

In this whirlwind of emotions, you couldn't reject the feeling that blazed in you the most. Your need for him. Your desire to have him all over you, with those hands that don't quit when you waver between feeling like you've had enough, and wanting more of him than ever.

You crawl back to the top of the bed, Toji's shirt dragging on the sheets beneath your palms. Your shorts are peeled off and tossed to the floor. You grab his pillow from his side of the bed, slipping it between your thighs before laying down flat on your stomach. You spread his shirt out on your pillow, and lay your face on it, allowing your mind to fill with thoughts of Toji. You used this internal shrine to fuel the languid roll of your hips against the pillow.

Toji called one more time. He was two minutes away from the house. Your phone is on silent mode, still on the floor on the other side of the room. Besides, you were too distracted to see your phone screen light up, anyway.

"We're literally here, already. Quit stressing," Shiu says when he sees Toji scoff after putting his phone down, a deadpan expression on the former's face. The second the van stops, Toji hops out, and without another word to Shiu, he slams the door shut.

The door barges open and slams shut behind him. Had you not been in your blissful haze, you would have been concerned. Toji's footsteps echo on the hardwood floor as he looks around in search of you. You're not on the couch, you aren't in the kitchen. Where the hell could you be?

"Ma," Toji calls, walking through the hallway. He peeks into the bathroom, not digging further because the light was off. He hears heavy breathing nearby, so he keeps going down the hall. It's one of two doors. Luckily, he chooses the right one.

He slowly creaks the door open, his shoulders dropping immediately at the sight on the bed. He sighs in awe, leaning against the doorframe.

Your hips rolled a little faster against the pillow now, your arms curled tightly around the pillow for your head. Your face remained buried in Toji's shirt, your moans muffled as you gnawed on the black fabric. You were so close to unraveling, you could feel it building up in your lower abdomen.

Toji really liked the little arch you made everytime you pulled back and then dragged forward to get the longest amount of friction between your legs. He could see your body trembling, and your moans were getting louder.

"Oh, Toji..."

The monster in his pants came to life, prominently bulging through his pants.

"F-Fuck... fuck me, please," you gasped, keeping your rhythm but grinding harder against the pillow. "Oh fuck, oh fuck..." you moaned, higher in pitch as you reached the brink of orgasm. You dragged your panty clad cunt across the pillow one more time before completely falling apart on it. Cries of pleasure shamelessly filled the room as you continued to shakily rut against the pillow through your peak. You whimpered, your abdomen quivering with your shuddered breaths as you kept grinding.

Toji's boxers were drenched with precum, just from watching you go wild on a pillow. You were thinking of him while he was gone. You wanted him. You called his name while you got yourself off to his scent on a shirt he wore yesterday, and now you're just there. A breathless, panting, needy, beautiful mess.

Toji straightens his posture and enters the room. He sees your phone on the floor and picks it up, the screen lighting to show his most recent missed calls. His footsteps pull you out of your climactic trance, a starry-eyed look on your face when you see him approach the bed.

"Couldn't pick up the phone even once?" He presents your phone to you. "Too busy fucking yourself on my pillow?"

"Toji..." you start, waved off immediately by his hand.

"Heard my name in there a couple times, princess. Thought you were upset with me." His eyes rake down your body, focusing on the way your thighs clamp around his pillow. He sees the wet spot on the front of your panties, and for some reason feels envy begin to bubble up in his stomach. His hand reaches for the elastic band of your underwear, simply feeling the material that hugs your hips.

"I was," you mumble.

"Uh-huh. So, instead of waiting for me like the perfect angel I thought you were, you made yourself cum on a pillow?" He scoffs. "Don't know about you, but that's borderline selfish to me." He notices the involuntary pout on your face, your guilty eyes trying to hold eye contact while he scolds you. "I make you cum. I fuck you until your damn claws are digging into my back. Tell me, doll, and be brutally honest, for me. How is it not enough?"

"I missed you..." you say, a last resort. All you can do is back yourself up now.

He laughs in disbelief. You really were ruled by your own desire. "Try again, doll."

"I needed you, Toji, and the closest thing to your presence was your pillow and a stupid shirt you wore yesterday. We have a dirty clothes hamper, you know?" You point at the tall basket in the corner of the room. "Maybe this wouldn't have happened if you had thrown it in there."

"Show me," he says, a twisted grin on his face.

"What are you talking about? Show you what?"

He pulls the pillow through your thighs so that you're centered on it again. "Show me how much you missed me." He sits in front of you, his hands resting on your hips. "Show me how this flimsy replacement for me, made you lose your shit."

You sit there, flustered by his silence as he watches you, waiting patiently for his hands to get gentle friction from your skin.

"Oh, you need some help winding up? I was so sure you were good at this, seeing as though you made yourself spill, but, guess not." He looks down at the front of your panties. The wet patch was growing with no movement from you at all. This made his ego sky rocket, but also reminded him of how unpredictable you could be. "I'm not gonna hold your hand the whole time, baby. You're supposed to be putting on a show for me."

His grip on your hips tightens and he starts assisting you with rolling your hips against the pillow. He watches your face, a bright shade flourishing on your cheeks when you make eye contact with him. It was like he had a spotlight on you, and he was expecting you to perform well for him under the harsh light.

You let out a shaky breath, your palms settling on his thighs. Your head hung low, hiding the bashful look of bliss on your face. It was a gesture that Toji did not approve of.

"Let me look at you," he says, still maneuvering your hips in a constant rhythm. You lift you head but turn away from him. "Keep those eyes on me." He manually turns your head, one hand releasing your hip in favor of forcing you to look at him. His hand returns to its spot when he has your glossy eyes on his. "I'm right in front of you. There's nothing over there that demands your attention, so focus."

"Toji," you whine, humiliation flooding your body.

"Gonna let go in a few seconds, so you better fall into some sort of rhythm, doll."

You try to pretend like he's not there, but it's hard to do so when he's staring straight into your soul. Watching every expression you make, watching every tremble of your lips, every swipe of your tongue. You feel total vulnerability.

His hands are off and you stutter for a second before picking up again.

"There you go," Toji mutters. You took control, and ground yourself harder against the pillow.

"Toji, touch me, please." You pull your shirt off, baring more of yourself to Toji. His lidded eyes take in the newly exposed skin. He can see your breasts rising and falling now as you breathe, and he can't deny how badly he wants to hold them. He gives in, his hands going to your back to unclip your bra. His hands immediately grope your boobs, testing the malleability like he always does. They're just so perfect.

"Aren't you a sight... You just have to be so fuckin' pretty all the time, don't you?" He rolls your nipples with his thumbs, taking in the way you shudder at the contact. "Fuck, it's hard to stay mad when you look like that."

You feel that familiar ache begin to form again, when the roll of your hips starts leaving a lingering pleasure behind.

"You're about to cum again, aren't you?" Toji asks, knowing the answer. His eyes are narrowed on you, his dick twitching even if his blood is boiling at the thought of you enjoying this so much. You're doing those little arches again where you pull back and your stomach is quivering every time you drag yourself back forward.

"Mhm..." your nails dig into Toji's thighs, using them as leverage to facilitate your movement even more. "Toji, can I cum?" you ask, your submissive tendencies coming out right on time, as usual. You like handing over control to Toji, even if it means you don't get to cum when you're seconds away from being an absolute mess. "Toji, can I, please?"

How can he deny you when you've complied with what he asked you to do? How can he turn you down when you're so driven with pleasure that you look like you're about to cry just from slowing down for a couple seconds, awaiting his response?

"Only if you do it on my hand." His hands still your hips, holding you down firmly to stop your movement completely.

"What?" Your cunt aches from holding back. It's pulsing, craving the return of stimulation.

Toji's hand slides into the front of your underwear, cupping your slickened folds. "Do it on my hand," he repeats.

"O-Okay," you comply, once again. You start rocking against his hand, the roughness of his skin adding more friction to your sensitive core. You were bound to snap any second now.

"God, you're so wet, ma. All for me?"

"Mhm... all for you, Toji," you whimper. "Gonna..." you gasp. "Oh, fuck-"

Toji devours your expression and the shaky pressure of your silkiness against his hand. His pupils are enormous, ridding him of almost all the green in his eyes. He loves the sounds you make, he loves that you adjusted to the spotlight he put on you and gave him the best show, but most of all, he loves that this was all the product of you just missing him.

You're left breathing shakily, your head hung low, and your eyes lidded with exhaustion.

"Did it feel the same?" Toji's voice brings you back. His hand retracts from your underwear, and he gets a good look at what you left behind on him, wiping it off on his shirt. It'll be removed soon enough, anyway.

"Not at all." You giggle. You look at him, your hands coming up to cup his cheeks. "You're irreplaceable, baby. Inanimate objects don't do it for me like you do."

He chuckles. Your voice is adorable, all quiet yet still able to communicate your reassuring words.

"I need a nap," you mumble, retrieving your shirt from the end of the bed.

"Wanna shower with me, instead?"

Your attention directs towards him like a homing bolt of lightning. He gives you a smug grin, and you know exactly what he's thinking.

"Spare me some company and one of those massages you're so good at giving, yeah?"

You give him a deadpan expression, almost refuting him until he hit you at another point where he knew you were weak.

"Please, mama?"

#toji x y/n #toji x you #toji smut #toji fluff #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #dilf toji #jjk toji #jjk x y/n #jjk fic #jjk scenarios #jjk x you #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk smut #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen toji #jujutsu kaisen fic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu toji #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #fanfic #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff #toji fic #fushiguro toji

[cesium-sheep]

okay wrote a thousand words of the hlvrai fic I started last march and hadn’t worked on since last april, as well as rereading what I wrote and getting a clearer picture of the last missing scene between what I just wrote and what comes after that I wrote last time.

idk if it’s just my memory problems or what, but I do find my own writing genuinely compelling. the worst it ever gets is just feeling like it’s a little boring and perfunctory sometimes when I’m maneuvering from scene to scene, but I also don’t do full redrafts anymore so it’s whatever.

so they’ve gotta drink with darnold and get some more demands from bubby in there, and then we’ll get to the benry respawn I already wrote and the fallout thereof, and then I’ll be able to move forward without any other missing pieces.

#also like to be clear I do not mind that I haven't been writing. #I used to write literally constantly in like. middle school through college. #and the writing I do now is a lot more sporadic and a lot better. #and I'm not setting myself any like. deadlines or obligations or anything. #it'll get done when it gets done and if that's never then so be it. #my crocheting and my drawing have a degree of obligation to them even though I'm ultimately doing them because I want to #but my writing? #if you're subscribed to my ao3 no you aren't lol #I write shit *entirely* for my own entertainment and then I post it when it's done so I can more reliably read it again later. #(ascent into madness was a self-imposed obligation to try to get back in the swing of things and it wasn't fun) #(so no more writing obligations for me.)

[saerotonins]

it's ovulating szn

ft. nanami kento x fem!reader

content warnings: reader has a uterus, reader is horny, can't blame them though, kento is just fucking hot, suggestive, making out, thigh grinding, implied smut, reader has periods, reader is called a slut once, nanami nutted in his pants LOL, not beta read

wc: 915

note: wrote this while being half-asleep and delirious, i'm sorry in advance

kento just want to finally sit on the couch with you and talk about his day. especially when it's been the bane of his sanity for the past hours he had been working.

but how can you even concentrate listening to your lover when he looks especially good and delicious today?

the words just went in and out of your ears, not having any energy to comprehend any of them. not when kento's lips look so juicy and inviting. his biceps bulging through his blue blouse that is folded until his elbow, practically begging to be touched and held. not when his thighs are spread deliciously, muscles relaxed as he sigh from yet another complaint (something about gojo, but you don't know for sure), his veiny hands and forearms on the top of the cushions on the backrest, holding his face steady. and his voice — oh god— his voice. so hot and raspy that you would do anything to hear his moans right now—

"i don't think you're listening anymore, sweetheart." you search his face for any hint of dejection for not being able to be interactive with his stories, but as you take a look on his face any longer, a tiny smirk is present, giving you an idea that he knows why you're being awfully quiet.

"yeah? well, how can i?" you crawled to him from the other side of the couch, straddling his thighs and making your face closer to his, distance merely a hair's breath away. "when you look this fucking good," deciding you had enough, you cup both of his cheeks into a passionate kiss.

you can still taste the slight hint of coffee that he had earlier in the afternoon, probably his third cup of coffee but you don't mind. kento, being the gentleman he is, opted to give your hips some attention, giving it a firm yet gentle squeeze which makes things even harder for you to contain. the kiss went more aggressive, your teeth clashing against each other, your tongue exploring his mouth, finding the taste addicting.

you hear kento moan against your mouth, swallowing it all. you can already feel your panties soaking wet, you wouldn't even be surprise if you see yourself dripping on his beige trousers. you feel your pussy begging for any ounce of attention but the heavens above must have heard your wishes as kento pushes your hips firmly on his thigh, "sit like a good slut and keep yourself entertained," you knew it was the code for 'go on, use my thigh as you please' and you couldn't be any happier to oblige.

"mmh— hah— kento, oh my god," you felt yourself closer to your climax, the rub against your clit bringing your eyes onto the back of your head. the pressure is too much for you to handle that when you bit your lips to suppress yourself from being to loud, you're positively sure that it's going to bleed.

"let me hear you, darling, come on, use your big girl voice," kento was happy enough to keep your desires occupied as he felt his trousers get tight, but he doesn't mind, your needs are always above his.

"hah— oh lord, you're so, ah!" you yelped as you feel yourself closer to cumming, the friction between your clit and both of your clothed bodies too hot to handle. "i'm gonna cum, kento!" the movement of your hips getting sloppy each second is enough for him to tell even before you said it. "come on then, cum like a good girl," with that, you finally let yourself go.

as you look down at his crotch, you see a big wet patch forming. "oh my god, did you cum too?" you asked him, shocked that his dick was able to bust out even without touching it. "making you finish makes me cum, darling." he chuckles in between light pants.

"well, here's an idea," you let your hands explore his heaving chest, "what is it?" kento answered, his sultry eyes meeting yours.

"why don't we take this to the bedroom, then you can continue your story."

"will you actually listen this time?"

"i'll try." you replied with a suggestive tone, knowing he won't mind telling you the story again as long as he gets to fuck you.

"sounds like a plan."

and with that, kento lifted your body up, the both of you not being able to contain yourselves, making out towards your shared bedroom.

that night, you and kento swear to god that it was one of the best sex that had happened this year.

the next day after your steamy session, kento found you getting irritated to almost every single thing that annoyed you.

the door knob snatching the hem of your shirt? annoyed. your charger not working like it used to? absolutely livid. you found your favorite shirt on the laundry when you were planning to wear it today? at this point satan is asking to be replaced with the stages of rage you just went through.

later that night though, he saw a packet of tampon thrown on the garbage bin in your bathroom.

and then kento swore the gears in his head started working.

ah, so that's why. everything started to make sense.

the few days after that, he took care of your every need and served you like a goddess (not that he was treating you any less regardless if it's that time of the month or not).

#nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami smut #nanami fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #nanami kento smut #nanami kento fluff #jjk fluff #jjk smut #jjk x reader

[navybrat817]

Where Did the Time Go?

Pairing: Best Friend!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader Summary: You decide not to drink during game night, which leads to an interesting conversation with Bucky. Word Count: 1.6k Warnings: Light angst, tension, friends reconnecting, unrequited feelings (or so you think), slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (yep, he's a warning) Previous Part of AU: We'll Always be Friends A/N: More Dreamboat and Butterfly from my Reconnect AU! ❤️ Beta read by @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You weren’t sure what exactly happened between dinner and now, but you decided that the fun game night wouldn’t include drinking. You hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol since your meal. Even then, you were pretty sure you didn’t have much. Sharon brought out a bottle of wine before everyone finished eating and you took a sip of your glass out of obligation. If she noticed you didn’t finish your glass, she didn’t say anything, which you appreciated.

But you should’ve known that Bucky would catch on.

“Not drinking tonight, huh?” He asked as he took a seat beside you on the couch. Steve and Sam set up a game table and were already a couple of drinks in. So were Sharon and Natasha. You weren’t worried about them though. They could hold their liquor.

But can I hold my tongue if I drink? Or am I using that as an excuse?

“Not tonight,” you replied, holding up your cup of water. “Sticking with water.”

“You’re acting like we need a designated driver when we’re not going anywhere,” he joked, throwing his arm around behind the cushion, the same way he had at the dinner table. “Afraid I’ll kick your ass in Mario Kart if you get a little tipsy?” He asked, grinning when you smiled. “We can have a tournament? Just the two of us?”

“Hey, one of us might need to go on a liquor or snack run. You never know,” you said, setting your water on the table before you sank into the couch. “And it isn’t exactly a tournament if only two people are playing, is it?”

“It can be. We make our own rules,” he smiled as he moved a little closer. “Remember the time we had a tournament? We went to that shady looking liquor store after Sam spilled the last bottle of rum. The guy behind the counter had a bunch of clown masks.”

You laughed a little. How could you forget? “Yes! We had to open the living room window so we could breathe. And the cashier was actually a sweet guy, but you glued yourself to my side before that because you were certain the guy had bad intentions,” you said. Bucky and his protective streak made you feel important.

Until you weren’t.

Bucky must’ve noticed the change in your demeanor since he stopped chuckling. “Seriously though. Are you okay? Are you not feeling well?”

“I feel fine. I just don’t need to drink tonight,” you said, touched that he showed concern for you before a weird expression crossed his face. “What? Do I have something in my teeth?”

“No. You’re, um,” he tapped a finger on his knee as he tried to find the words. “There isn’t a specific reason you aren’t, is there? You're not…” he trailed off, but his eyes drifted long enough to your torso to fill in the blank.

You never understood the expression about eyes widening to the size of saucers until you experienced it just then. “Are you asking if I’m pregnant?” You whispered, careful not to speak any louder than that. The last thing you needed was the group questioning why Bucky asked such a question. “If so, the answer is NO.”

The sigh of relief Bucky let out, you weren’t sure what to make of it. “Sorry. I'm sorry. You don’t owe me an explanation for why you aren’t drinking. I just. I don't know why my mind went there.”

You couldn’t exactly tell him you're worried about getting plastered and revealing how you felt about him. Drunk confessions worked for some, but you didn’t think the odds were in your favor. “I still can’t believe you asked that,” you half teased, pointing at your stomach. “Not to mention, I haven’t been laid in ages. So, unless it happens via immaculate conception, that’s never going to be the case.”

The odd expression was back on Bucky’s face. What was his deal? “When was the last time you went on a date?” He asked with more interest than you expected.

“Months ago. Minimum,” you said, looking up at the ceiling as you tried to recall the exact day. “His name was Nick. We went on a few dates and he was nice enough, but he ended up getting serious with someone else. Haven’t gone on another date since.”

The clench in Bucky’s jaw almost made you smile. He had no reason to look so upset on your behalf. “I’m sorry. It’s his loss.”

“Don’t be. I’m kind of used to it,” you said with a nonchalant shrug.

“What the hell does that mean?” He asked, facing you on the couch and blocking the view of your friends at the table. “What exactly are you used to?”

Why does he sound upset? It's not like I’m not his girl.

“It means I’m used to guys not picking me,” you said honestly. As much as it hurt to think that way, saying it didn’t hurt as badly. “Think about it, Bucky. In all the time you’ve known me, when have guys ever flocked to me? When have you ever seen a guy take a chance on me when Natasha and Sharon were there? They haven’t and that’s just the way it is.”

“That’s bullshit. You’re perfect. And maybe people do see you, but you don’t see them,” he argued, quickly closing his mouth when he saw your expression. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-”

“No, I think that’s exactly what you meant,” you said, sitting up to put some distance between the two of you as hurt filled his eyes. “I see just fine, thanks, but please enlighten me. Who saw me? Who did I overlook? I’d love an example.”

There was no reason to get so defensive, but did he understand how you felt? People gravitated toward Bucky and your friends. They always had. You, on the other hand, were on the outside of the house looking in. It was tiring to be the one knocking on the door.

“What about your old friend, TJ? You’re telling me he didn’t see you?” He asked, a hint of bitterness in his voice. It wasn’t a tone you heard from him before. It didn't suit him.

“TJ?” You asked, confusion written all over your face that you couldn’t fake if you tried. “TJ Hammond? My old family friend? Um, no, he definitely doesn’t see me.”

Not even close.

“He stayed at your place after Steve’s party,” he said, running a hand through his hair as he avoided your gaze. “Bet he couldn’t wait to see you. Probably went over the second you got back from the trip.”

Wait, is he jealous? What the hell?

You laughed a little, unable to help yourself when he raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, he did stay at my place for a bit after Steve’s birthday bash a couple of years ago. He had an issue with his boyfriend.”

Bucky did a double take, which would’ve been humorous if not for the stricken look on his face. “Boyfriend?”

“Yeah. The guy he dated at the time was a HUGE asshole and they had a falling out. His parents refused to let him go back home, so he stayed with me. And I couldn’t kick him out. He needed a friend,” you said, your brows pinching when you recalled how TJ cried on your sofa. It was a heartbreaking sight. “He has a new boyfriend now who treats him well and he couldn’t be happier. And I couldn’t be happier for him.”

Bucky blinked a few times. “So, you two. You never…?”

“TJ and I? No. Never dated, hooked up, anything,” you smiled with a shake of your head. “We adore each other, but in a brother and sister kind of way. I mean, we’ve known each other since we were in diapers. Even if I did find him attractive, nothing ever would’ve happened. You, Steve, Sam, you guys are much more his type.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, his face a bit pale. You worried for a second that he was going to get sick. “I thought you two hooked up,” he said more to himself than to you.

Where the hell did he get that impression?

“No, we didn't and we never will,” you said again before something he said dawned on you. “Wait, how did you know he stayed at my place? He asked me not to tell anyone where he was and I respected his wishes.”

Going through the dates again in your head, it wasn’t long after TJ stayed with you that Bucky brought Dot around as his new girlfriend. You knew you lost your chance to admit your feelings because he had someone by his side. Someone who wasn’t you.

“Come with me,” Bucky said, taking your hand and pulling you up from the couch before you had a chance to argue. It was hard to keep up with his long strides and he didn’t look back when Steve called after the two of you.

“What’s going on?” You asked as he pulled you outside and slammed the door. You watched as he took a few breaths, like he was trying to steady himself. “Talk to me, please.”

“I wasted two years,” he whispered, tilting his head to look at the sky. “Two fucking years.”

What is he talking about?

“I don’t understand,” you said.

“I made a huge mistake and I regret it,” he said, squeezing your hand as he faced you. “And I can't go the rest of this week without telling you. I wasted enough time.”

“Tell me what? Bucky, what did you do?”

And can we come back from it?

That literary edging. I'm sorry! Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x female!reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes #best friend!bucky barnes #best friend!bucky barnes x reader #dreamboat and butterfly #reconnect au #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes au #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x you #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes x reader #sebastian stan

[avatar-anna]

2022

Y/n stepped into the studio in search of her boyfriend, who had been eluding her for a couple hours now. He woke up before she did, then went off on a morning run, then to rehearsals, and now that everyone was back, she still couldn't find him. Another person might've assumed he was avoiding her, or everyone, but she knew Harry better than most people. He was as clingy as they got, often crawling on top of her when she was at her desk to get her attention and his constant insistence on being the little spoon whenever the two of them watched TV at home. But Y/n knew he liked his space from time to time.

With a little more searching through the unfamiliar Palm Springs house, she found Harry laying in the middle of the studio, one arm draped across his eyes. From her vantage point, Y/n could see her boyfriend's chest rise and fall slowly, as if he'd fallen asleep on the carpeted floor.

"Come lay with me."

Y/n was a little startled to hear his voice, she could've sworn his eyes were closed at the very least, but he must've seen her come in. Still, she didn't question him, didn't say much at all until she was next to him, cheek nestled against his black hoodie. Y/n closed her eyes too, her hand sneaking beneath Harry's layers of clothes to feel his warm skin beneath his palm. Harry hummed, leaning into her touch a little as her breath kept time with his.

"H?"

"Yeah?" he replied, his voice low and croaky.

"Why are we on the floor when there's a perfectly good bed for us to sleep in upstairs?"

"I'm not sleeping," he mumbled.

Y/n picked her head up off his chest, and she smiled a little at the slight pout that turned the corners of his mouth downward. "Then what are we doing?"

"Meditating."

But it was clear Harry was content to lay on the floor in complete silence, so Y/n obliged, once again resting her head against his chest and focusing on his breathing. Minutes passed until she wasn't sure how long they'd been laying prone like that, but she didn't say anything. Even when she started to feel the hard floor beneath the rug and grew uncomfortable, she stayed put. There was something on Harry's mind, Y/n could tell. He was just finding the words.

He said it with finality, as if that was an obvious reason to be laying on the floor of the house's studio. But Harry was like that sometimes, believing him and Y/n were so in synch that she could read his thoughts. Most of the time she could follow his train of thought without him having to say anything, though even she had to admit this was unusual behavior for her boyfriend.

"You're supposed to be meditating," Harry mumbled.

Harry might've been meditating, but Y/n had never been all that good at it personally. She could hardly get through basic yoga poses without getting distracted or falling into a fit of giggles. Now her eyes were getting heavy, the smell of Harry's cologne and the soft material of his sweatshirt putting her to sleep.

Blinking slowly, Y/n inched her way up until she was face to face with her boyfriend. His eyes were closed, and if he hadn't just spoken, she would've guessed he was asleep. Tapping his nose gently, she said, "You're taking too long to talk to me."

"Oh. Well, excuse me," Harry said, one corner of his mouth turning up into a crooked smile.

"You know what I mean," Y/n said. She kissed his jaw, her thumb grazing the other side of his face. "We're laying on the floor in the middle of a studio. That's pretty strange, even for an eccentric celebrity such as yourself."

"You're just full of jokes after your nap."

"I wasn't napping!" Y/n insisted, pinching his stomach. Harry giggled and pinched her back until they were both rolling around the studio and play-wrestling until both breathing heavily with laughter. The tussle ended with Harry on top of Y/n his knit sunflower hat tickling her forehead.

"Talk to me. What's bothering you?" she asked him gently. She took his hat off and ran her hand through his hair, twirling a strand around her finger.

"It's all just...happening so fast," Harry finally admitted. He rolled back onto the floor, his head turning so he could still face Y/n. "I feel like just yesterday we were quarantining back home, and now we're here, and I...Am I crazy if I kind of miss it?"

Y/n's gaze softened. "You were chomping at the bit to go on tour when lockdown started," she said, smiling at the memory of those first few weeks. "And now the world is opening up and you get to perform again. This is a good thing, bub."

She and Harry hadn't been dating for very long when lockdown started, but they stayed in a bubble with Sarah and Mitch, which helped to make it feel like she and Harry weren't diving into moving in together so quickly. Y/n worried she would grow to despise him or discover a habit of his she didn't like and vice versa after spending so much quality one-on-one time together, but she didn't, and neither did he. Eventually the two of them quarantined without their friends, and Harry was right, it was honestly the best time. Y/n had never felt so close to someone before. All the movie nights and making dinners and late night wine and card games and cuddling for hours while sharing secrets and staying up and helping him with his music were so precious to her, and she wouldn't trade it for anything. But this was important too.

"I know what you mean," Y/n said. "I've missed my all-access pass to Harry Styles whenever I want."

Harry grinned. "You still have that, dork."

"And you still have me," she said earnestly. "But you're also going on tour again, H, and that's amazing. This album is so good, and you've worked so hard. If you need to take a step back from it all and have to decompress with little old me, you can. You know you can. But this is good too, okay? This is great. I mean, look at where we are? Coachella? Come on."

"I'm so nervous," Harry admitted.

"That's okay," Y/n told him. "I know you're gonna be great. And after that? We'll come back here and unwind. We can still do what we did during lockdown, bubbie. We'll just take it on tour. If I'm invited, that is."

Harry gave her a funny look. "Of course you're coming."

"Okay. Then that's that. Nothing to worry about."

Y/n grinned at him, but Harry just kind of stared at her. Normally she was pretty good at reading her boyfriend, but this was a look she'd never seen before. She was about to ask him what he was thinking now when he blurted,

"I'm gonna marry you someday," he said quietly, turning on his shoulder so he could face Y/n better.

Her eyes widened. They'd never talked about the future like that before. Y/n had been hoping and praying that Harry was the one for a while now and that he felt the same, but it had never been put in such plain terms before. Or out loud.

"Promise?" was all she could think to say.

Harry nodded. "Promise."

Y/n's grin was wider than anything she thought was capable. "Now can you please take me upstairs so we can lay on something other than a rug over hardwood floors?"

Rolling his eyes playfully, Harry stood up and helped Y/n to her feet, promptly picking her up until his legs were around his waist. "My fiance is so demanding," he said, leaning in for a kiss, but she stopped him by placing a finger on his mouth.

"Absolutely not. I am not your fiance until you ask me properly on one knee with a ring in your hand. And you can't call me anything else but your girlfriend until you do."

Harry looked amused but didn't argue, just raised his brows and glanced down at where Y/n's finger was still pressed against his lips. Smiling, she wrapped her arms around his neck, gripping the ends of his curls excitedly as he walked them out of the studio.

#harry styles #boyfriendrry #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

[karajaynetoday]

hey now, you're an all-star | jack hughes

it took one month of watching hockey for me to write fic. lmao. classic. good vibes.

thank you @littledrummeraussie for proofreading, love you angie 💖

READ PART TWO HERE

READ PART THREE HERE

word count: 2.8k

Warnings:  i don't think it needs any? just forgive my limited knowledge of hockey and canada i suppose? mentions of anxiety related to university? it's a bit angsty bc let's be real, do i ever know how to write anything else?

(This is a fem reader insert)

More writing here (soz that the masterlist is not up to date lol) | send thoughts/feedback/suggestions here

You’d known Jack Hughes for as long as you could remember. He stood up for you in the playground at kindergarten, when a bigger kid pushed you off the swings; you returned the favour by saving him from a spider on his backpack. Ever since, you’d always had each other’s backs. 

And for as long as you’d known Jack, you’d been able to tell when he was upset about something. His lips did this thing, not quite a pout, but nowhere near the easy smile you were used to seeing. He’d pull his sleeves down over his hands, and his breathing would be… deeper, somehow. He could never meet your gaze, either. 

You were scrolling through Instagram on your couch at home, where you were supposed to be studying, when you saw a video of Jack from the Devils fundraiser event, answering media questions about his injury and when he’d be back on the ice. He laughed and smiled for the cameras, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. They asked about the all-star game, and you could feel his hesitation in answering. Jack tried to be positive and assure everyone that he had a chance of playing, but you both knew that wasn’t very likely. 

You sent the video to Jack with a comment bagging out his hairstyle, hoping to lift his mood a little, before dropping your phone onto the couch and drawing your attention back to the economics case study you were supposed to be analysing. 

You’d stayed in Toronto for university, while Jack headed off to New Jersey after his draft year. Long distance friendship took a lot of getting used to, but at least you were still in the same timezone, and the NHL schedule meant that Jack was contractually obliged to visit you a few times each year. Quinn too, despite how much he complained about the intensity of hockey mania in Toronto. In fact, the entire Hughes family sometimes made the trek, which you knew your parents not-so-secretly loved. It reminded you of the warmth you felt growing up in each other’s homes, filled with laughter and joy.

The little focus you had for your economics homework was broken when your phone began to vibrate beside you, Jack’s name flashing on the screen. You rolled your eyes with a smile, before leaning over to answer the video call. 

“Good morning, sunshine!” You greeted your best friend, who was already scowling at you. 

“Is it a good morning, though? When all I do is get criticism from my supposed best friend?” 

“It’s not criticism, more… encouragement, I’d say.” You teased back, Jack rolling his eyes at you.

“Encouraging what, exactly?”

“Encouraging you to make better personal style choices, especially related to hair. You are a millionaire, after all. Least you can do is get a decent haircut.” 

“Oh, my apologies. Didn’t realise I was getting encouragement from the queen of high fashion. Is that a coffee stain on that shirt?” Jack’s eyes glanced down at what little he could see of your outfit in the video call, before poking his tongue out at you.

“Hey, I’m a university student. This is high fashion, I’ll have you know. Anyway, why aren’t you at training?” You asked, cocking your head to the side in curiosity. 

Jack’s lips pressed together, and he looked away from his phone and you; you silently cursed yourself for asking the question. Even though Jack had been injured, he’d been pretty dedicated to his rehab and recovery, so it was a little odd for him to be calling you in the morning rather than be at a physio session. 

“More scans this afternoon so no session this morning. Trying to decide if I can play next weekend or if I just have to show up and look pretty.” Jack tried to joke, but you could tell that it wasn’t something he found humour in. 

“Good thing that looking pretty comes naturally to you, J.” 

“Oh, so now I’m pretty? I thought I had shit hair?!”

“You can both be a pretty face and have shit hair, buddy. They’re not mutually exclusive.”

“Mutually exclusive? Is that a fancy term you learnt at school?” 

You laughed at that, earning a Jack smile in return. You continued chatting back and forth for another 30 minutes or so, before Jack had to go to his scans. 

You managed to get through the rest of your economics homework, but your mind kept wandering back to Jack and his frustration at being injured. He’d been an All-Star before, so it wasn’t that specifically he was frustrated about missing, you were certain. The difference this year was Quinn’s selection in the All-Star weekend, and the building anticipation around so-called “Team Hughes” that would see Jack and Quinn on the same team for the first time in their NHL careers. That’s probably what Jack was upset about, because as much as they chirp each other and are fiercely competitive, there’s nothing Jack Hughes loves more than his brothers. You knew that he’d be in his head overthinking everything and convincing himself that he was letting Quinn down, somehow, despite it being beyond his control. 

The only further communication you got from Jack that day was a thumbs-down text message, which told you all you needed to know. You were sporadically in touch a few times throughout the week, and before you knew it, it was the day everyone was flying in for All-Star weekend.

You’d managed to persuade your parents that a full-blown neighbourhood party was not necessary, and instead convinced them to accept Quinn’s invitation to a lowkey but nice dinner downtown near the hotel where he and Jack were staying. The dinner was something you were looking forward to all week, but you hadn’t anticipated two things: accidentally deleting half your economics essay the night before it was due and having to stay up until 3am to finish it; and the butterflies that you were feeling when you were getting ready for dinner. Why on earth were you so nervous? Seeing Jack and Quinn after a while was usually something that excited you, not stressed you out. 

You had just pulled on your dress and finished wrangling your hair when your phone pinged with a message from Jack. 

Have you looked at the menu for this place? We need to order a side of the loaded mac n cheese pls and thx 

I thought you were a high performance athlete? But of course, mac n cheese is a MUST

Correct, my body is a temple. A temple of mac n cheese. Mac is a carb, cheese is calcium for my bones. Winners all around. See ya soon x

Xo

It was freezing outside, so you took an Uber from your university apartment to the restaurant. You were running behind, thanks to traffic, and then you almost toppled over on the pavement outside due to the wet weather. Between that and your sleep deprivation, you honestly wanted nothing more than to go home, put your pyjamas on and cry; but you plastered a smile on your face and headed inside the restaurant. 

The hostess greeted you warmly, and offered to take your coat once you established that your parents had already arrived and were seated on a table towards the back of the restaurant, and you could see the backs of Jack and Quinn as you approached them. Everyone stood up to greet you with hugs and kisses, and the butterflies sparked again when Jack pulled out the chair next to his for you to sit down. Jack and Quinn both had nice sweaters on with collared shirts, and you were quietly glad you’d decided to wear a dress rather than the jeans you’d initially picked out. 

“How did your essay go, sweetheart? I know economics isn’t your favourite…” Your mother enquired, obviously unaware of your crisis the night before. 

You gave her a tight-lipped smile and took a sip of the diet coke in front of you (that Jack must’ve ordered for you, no doubt) before mumbling something about getting it sorted and hoping for the best. Your dad swiftly changed the subject to the weekend’s festivities, excitedly asking Quinn about his plans for the All-Star draft, but you could feel Jack’s eyes on you. You met his gaze and subtly shook your head, silently asking for him to save his questions for later. Jack frowned at you, but complied. 

The dinner felt like it went quickly, but also went for hours. Your stomach hurt from laughing (and probably too much mac and cheese), as Jack and Quinn regaled your parents with stories of their seasons and their plans for the next summer off in Michigan, where your two families would join each other for a month or so of adventures. You found yourself smiling as your dad and the Hughes brothers comically argued over who would pay the bill, before Jack excused himself to the bathroom and sneakily paid the bill on his way there. 

Jack and Quinn’s hotel was walking distance from the restaurant, and they excitedly invited you and your parents to come and see the fancy suite they’d been gifted for the weekend. Your mother made some excuse about traffic on the drive home and promised to come and see it some other time, but nudged you in your side as she told you to go and check it out. You were so tired and ready for bed, but reluctantly agreed; your window of opportunity to spend time with Jack was closing, so you figured you may as well make the most of it.

The butterflies in your stomach flitted around as Jack helped you into your coat before you headed outside the restaurant and bid your parents farewell. You fell into step in between the brothers as they traipsed back toward the hotel, conversation flowing easily as Quinn asked about your college classes and you asked him about the latest book he was reading. Jack was silent as you walked the few blocks before arriving at the hotel, and he gently placed his hand onto your back as you were guided through the hotel front door and into the elevator. 

Your jaw dropped when Quinn swiped his key card and you all entered the hotel suite. They weren’t joking about it being fancy, holy shit. 

The floor to ceiling windows had incredible views of the city skyline, with a very comfortable looking couch in the living area facing the view. Two doors at either side of the living room lead to bedrooms with luxurious linens, and the marble bathrooms were impeccably finished. 

Jack was grinning as he watched you take it all in, leaning up against the door frame to his bedroom as you stood near the window and gaped at the views. Quinn had flopped down on the couch and was texting on his phone. 

“Can they gift this to you year-round? I’d like to live here…” You mused, shaking your head at how insane this hockey lifestyle could be. 

“We could probably just buy it for you.” Jack said nonchalantly, as he wandered over to stand beside you at the window. 

“Yeah, if you want. They’d probably charge us more because I’m a Canuck, though.” Quinn deadpanned, earning a laugh from you and an eye-roll from Jack.

“Speaking of, the guys are all catching up in Petey’s room, so I think I’ll head down there. See you tomorrow after the draft, sugar plum.” Quinn pulled you into a hug, and your heart burst at him using your childhood nickname (which came from one ill-fated ballet performance and you insisted you hated, but secretly loved being called). 

You could’ve sworn you saw Quinn wink at Jack before he left the hotel room, but then again, the sleep deprivation could also be sending you loopy. 

“Wanna watch a movie?” Jack asked, moving to stand behind you and loop his arms around your waist as you still faced the window. Your heart rate shot through the roof as he pulled you closer, and nestled his head in between your neck and shoulder. You cringed as you realised he could probably feel your pulse beating fast. 

“Sure, but no blaming me if I fall asleep on you, sorryyyyy.” You awkwardly maneuvered yourself out of Jack’s embrace and walked over to the couch, sitting down on it and removing your shoes. 

“The first time we’ve seen each other in MONTHS and you’re going to fall asleep? Am I that boring? Sheesh.” Jack drawled, watching you from where he stood.

“Yes.” You stuck your tongue out at him, but lost it to a yawn which made you both laugh. 

“You know I love you, J. I would happily pull an all-nighter with you, but I don’t think two in a row is probably good for me.”

“Two in a row? What, where you out partying hard last night?” Jack’s voice trailed off as he wandered off into the bedroom, leaving the door open behind him. You heard a drawer open and a light thud onto the floor, and your throat tightened when you realised Jack was changing his clothes. God, you’d gotten changed in front of each other a million times. Why was your brain making everything so weird tonight?

“Not quite. Had a disaster that involved accidentally deleting my entire essay, sobbing for an hour, then staying up until 3am to write the whole thing. Living the dream, as per usual.” You rattled off, trying to sound nonchalant about, even though just thinking about last night made you nauseous with anxiety. Your nonchalance was clearly unconvincing, as Jack came back out of the bedroom clad in a hoodie and sweats and bee-lined for you, his face covered in concern. 

“Don’t look at me like that. It’s fine, I promise. All part of the college experience.” You weren’t sure if you were trying to convince yourself or Jack more. He couldn’t either, but instead of pushing the issue, he threw a hoodie at your head and laughed when you looked offended. 

“I’m definitely falling asleep if I put this on, by the way. You know I love being cozy. Cozy is my natural state of being.” You pulled your hair up into a loose bun using the hair tie on your wrist, before pulling the black Devils hoodie over your head. 

Jack slotted himself beside you on the couch and reached his arm over your shoulders, finding the remote with his other hand and navigating the ridiculously large TV onto Netflix. 

“Fine by be, sugarplum. I’d rather know you’re getting sleep here than send you home to stress yourself out more.”  Jack mused, his fingers absentmindedly stroking your arm while he found the latest season of a TV show you both loved to watch and pressed play.

“I’m not stres - it was just one essay - I promise I’m fine.” You sputtered, tripping over your words when Jack locked eyes with you, his gaze empathetic but all-knowing. 

“Besides, I’m not the only one in the room worth worrying about.” You said softly, nudging Jack’s side gently. Jack rolled his lips between his teeth, and sighed; he put down the remote and pulled his hoodie sleeves over his hands. 

“But we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. You’re not letting anyone down, though. Quinn doesn’t think that.” You continued, softly, not wanting to cause tension. 

Jack sighed deeply again and pulled his arm away from you, leaning forward and rubbing his face with both hands. 

“You don’t know what Quinny’s thinking, sugar. And it’s not just Quinn, it’s the fucking journalists, and Bratter’s vacation being ruined, and goddamn Michael Bublé being disappointed in me, and - just - fucking all of it.” Jack exhaled deeply, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. 

You didn’t know what to say, because you could tell that Jack wasn’t in a mood that you could talk him down out of. But you could tell he needed comfort, needed reassurance, needed to know that you still had his back. Ever since kindergarten. 

You grabbed the back of Jack’s hoodie and gently tugged it, and he leaned back against the couch. You tapped Jack’s legs next, and he moved them up onto the other side of the L-shaped couch, so he was properly reclining. You paused, trying to figure out how to position yourself without being literally on top of Jack, but while your brain was running a million miles a minute, Jack’s hand found yours and yanked you towards him gently. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, before adjusting yourself between Jack’s body and the side of the couch. Jack’s arm found a home over your hips and settled gently on your stomach, pulling your back against his chest. You felt his breath on your neck as you both wriggled around, trying to get comfortable.

 

“Is this okay, sugar?” Jack’s voice was barely a whisper, directly into your ear. You didn’t trust your voice not to squeak a response so you simply nodded, trying desperately to calm your fast beating heart.

You rested your hand on top of Jack’s and gently squeezed, feeling yourself starting to lull to sleep. Despite the butterflies and your heart jumping out of your chest, you somehow had never felt more at peace, right in this moment.

This was safe, this was calm. This was home. 

#jack hughes #jack hughes imagine #quinn hughes imagine #jack hughes one shot #nhl imagine #jack hughes fanfic #nhl #my writing #quinn hughes #new jersey devils #vancouver canucks #all star weekend #jack hughes x reader

[90sbee]

Dying is not an option (when you're by my side)

Leon S. Kennedy x Gn!reader

1k words. Also on a03

Soft fingers caress his lips, keep his body warm, his belly full and his back massaged.

“I’ll always have a home,” Leon finally manages to get out, a complete sentence, voice without hesitation.

He closes his eyes, kisses the skin of your shoulder.

Hell, he is trying.

When his mind seems to get too clouded by the visions of monsters, you pull him out of the depths of his trauma. He does his best to love you. He tries.

Or the fic in which you make Leon repeat comforting phrases so it finally gets in his head that he is loved.

Just a very soft idea that wouldn't leave my head and that's been too long in the wip folder. The warnings make it seem worse than it is, but happy ending I promise!!! Had re4r in mind for this one but can be read with other older versions of him. (Though the older the Leon, the angstier it gets lmao)

Content: No use of y/n, very very soft love, hurt/comfort, some angst, established relationship, living together, sitting on his lap, a tiny bit of possessive Leon (yay!)

Warnings: +18 ONLY. No smut but some suggestive lines. Mentions of blood, suicide, guns and overall (some brief) gore. Leon's mental struggles (depression, anxiety). I'm not a native English speaker but I (lazily) proofread and edited this one.

You lean forward, just a little closer to his body. Leon groans, his face unreadable still.

“Don’t want to,” he muses, kind of annoyed at your proposal.

“Just trust me.”

He reluctantly nods, as you get comfortable on his lap. His firm thighs under you, the warmest and comfiest seat you could ever ask for.

You worry about him, worry so much.

You know now: know what he does, what he works as. At first it was hard to believe it, the stories about human turned monsters, about creatures that linger between heaven and hell. But you had to believe him, you were forced to the first time Leon crumbled down in your arms, sobbing the entirety of the night, the immensity of his body reduced to shivering and tears.

“I love you,” you had told him that time. “I’m not letting you go. I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

You whisper the same things again now, your voice reverberating close to his ear. Leon eases the grip on your hips, replaces it with a soft touch. He tries to calm down, closes his eyes for a moment too long.

“You love me,” he seems to ask, as if trying to convince himself of it, as if trying to find himself worthy of such a feeling from someone like you.

“I do,” you confirm, cupping his cheeks.

He nods, though his heart is thumping in his chest still. Your hands move to his shoulders, then to his arms, caressing the skin with soft strokes.

“I love you… Look at me.”

He obliges, eyes like the ocean, marked by the heavy and dark eyebags.

It breaks your heart to see him like this. Your lip trembles as you lean closer, shortening the distance.

It is entirely possible —as you’re so much aware of— that one day you’ll come home to an unlocked gun and his body in the bathtub. Or maybe it would be the rifle, the carpet stained with blood and pieces of what used to be his jaw.

A jaw that you love so much, that you kiss now.

Leon sighs, seems content with such affection, his hands getting lost down your thighs.

“Listen to me. You’re gonna repeat as I say, okay?” an attempt to get him out of his head, to remind him of who he is.

“ …‘Kay,” he mumbles, seemingly distracted.

“I’m… good.”

He scrunches his nose, pinkish lips downturned. Naturally, he doesn’t dare to say those words. He doesn’t want to trick his brain.

“C’mon,” you egg him, patting his shoulder gently.

The action seems to at least make his lips curve slightly.

“I’m good,” he whispers, his voice insecure.

He tries. You can see how hard he does it: coming home as much possible, the dirty laundry now clean and with a soft cinnamon scent. A sunflower in the kitchen vase next to the window, the coffee mug always clean even when you leave it in the sink, ready to be washed in the morning.

“I’m a good partner,” you resume, reminiscing.

That does stops him in his tracks, a gentle blush rooting on his cheeks, the smile more pronounced now. Leon presses his face against your neck.

“… Do I really have to say it?”

“Yep.”

He breathes on your neck, as if trying to take in a bit of your kindness, a bit of your peace. He closes his eyes, tries to control his breathing. But his hands grip your hips harder.

He fucking loves you.

Leon is not sure he deserves this yet, the warm body on the bed, the pretty smile that kisses him goodbye, lets him go away even in the middle of the night.

“I love you,” he backtracks, pressing a kiss on your neck.

You chuckle, and allow him that admission.

“Very cute but that’s not what you had to repeat.”

Leon raises his eyebrows, feigning annoyance. He keeps his fingers on your hips, dancing on your skin, drawing patterns as he keeps you close. He wishes he could sign his name there, mark you forever so you’d never get too far away from him… So he’d always have a right to come back to you.

“But I love you…” he pouts.

You grab his face with utmost care, force his cheeks to look upwards at your face.

“I love you too. Lots.”

You kiss his forehead. His body melts under that touch.

“ ‘m a good partner” he mumbles, quickly.

“My baby loves me.”

Now Leon chuckles.

“My baby loves me,” he hides again on your neck, his smile etched constantly on his face now. You hug him closer, kiss his forehead once more, as if sheltering a lost angel in your arms.

“I’ll always have a home.”

Oh, that one seems to break him a little. Leon immediately whines, his hands gripping your body with ferocity against his. He can’t say… He shouldn’t. He… he can’t and…

His heart starts beating faster and he gulps.

“You can do it…” you encourage him and he wants to try. He knows, deep inside, that is true and that he is now safe. It takes him several minutes until his anxiety dissipates and he can look up at you, your eyes encapsulating warmth that he had never experienced with anyone else.

Soft fingers caress his lips, keep his body warm, his belly full and his back massaged.

“I’ll always have a home,” Leon finally manages to get out, a complete sentence, voice without hesitation.

He closes his eyes, kisses the skin of your shoulder.

Hell, he is trying. It is seen not only in how much he makes time for you, but also in the way he follows along with your little silly ideas, suggestions to try to build himself up again.

And though he wouldn’t directly admit it, since you two are together he has promised himself to fight his hardest in every mission. He spits his own blood, wipes off the exhaustion from his face and keeps pushing forward. Because, he’ll be damned, he wants to see you once more. And once more. And again and again… And when he comes home, to you, Leon immediately checks —for the tenth time— the safety on each gun and leaves them in locked boxes, his fingers slowly forgetting what it’s like to toy with weapons in the sanctuary that you’ve built for the two of you. The cold of the metal is now replaced by the warmth between your thighs, the flesh on your hips, the softness of your hands.

Hell, he is definitely trying.

And it’s fucking working.

God to be on his lap honestly!!! A dream. And if you've made it to the end, thank you!! Mwah, sweet soul 💙

#x reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s. kennedy x reader #leon s. kennedy x you #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy hurt/comfort #writer bee #mine #gn!reader #mdni divider by #@/cafekitsune #divider and support banner by #@/saradika

[captainfern]

May i request your majesty 🐈..

Cosy! Sfw (or if you find a way to make it NSFW then go wild) headcanon/ imagine of fem! Reader, reading to the boys every night or after a mission?? Like.. so mother ?? Bc they mostly fight and train and wrestle so, they have a lil calm, story time moment with the reader ??

Ugh I’m reading a book rn and thinking I just wanna mother these boys and read them a story!! Babies !!!

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"This Is Not A Book Club"

141 x gn!reader [platonic!]

[Imagines 1]

[SFW]

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• summary - what the request says :) • rating - sfw • wordcount - 1.8k • warnings - ik the request is for fem!reader but no specific pronouns/gendered language are used in this, pet name "love" is used once tho, strong language, no smut sorry fellow whores ✋

this idea is so fucking cute i just had to write it omfg. also i love that gif soap and ghost's interactions are just too adorable *pat pat*

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You didn't mean for it to become a habit.

It began on a whim.

After a strenuous mission, you relaxed in your respective room, curled up in your bed, reading a book. The main light was off, and you relied on the soft glow of the lamp on your bedside table. It was a relatively new book— you were only a chapter or so in— when a light knock at your door made you jump.

You hadn't been expecting it. It was pretty late, too.

You were surprised when Gaz poked his head in, apologising for interrupting. He figured he could unwind in your room, since the rest of the 141 were doing their own thing, and he needed some company.

You accepted, of course— how could you not when he looked at you with those deep brown eyes?

He settled on the bed next to you, sprawling himself across it near your feet. You laughed as he sighed, face buried in your duvet. He lifted his head, peering at you quizzically.

"What are you reading?" He asked.

You held the book up. "I... honestly don't know. It's pretty good, so far though."

He hummed, intrigued, as he scooted closer to you, head now resting parallel to your thighs.

"Read to me?" He asked, long eyelashes casting shadows across his cheekbones beneath the lamplight.

You smiled. "I'm two chapters in."

"That's okay," he muttered. "Just fill me in on what's happening."

You did, explaining the last couple of chapters in as much detail as possible. You then told him what the book was about, reading the little summary on the back. By this stage, his head was now resting on your lap atop the blanket, hand cupping your slightly bent knee.

"Right, okay," he said. "Now you can read from where you were reading."

You chuckled at his enthusiasm for you to hurry up and begin. So, you obliged, reading a couple of chapters before his breathing slowed. You looked away from your book, realising that he had fallen asleep, head still resting in your lap. You smiled, gently patting his head.

He mumbled incoherently.

"Gaz, come on, you fell asleep," you giggled, nudging him. "You need to go to bed."

He yawned, forcing himself to sit up. His eyes drooped, bleary with drowse as he stumbled off of your bed.

"Fine, but I'll be back for the next chapter tomorrow." He muttered, leaving with his eyes barely open.

The next evening, at roughly the same time, Gaz found his way into your room again. This time, with Soap in tow.

"Soap?" You greeted skeptically.

"Gaz said you're reading to him. I like a good storytime, too." He smiled, sprawling himself out on the rug beside your bed. He didn't give you any room for argument as Gaz resumed his place resting against your lap.

"Oh...kay... do you want me to fill you in?" You asked as you grabbed your book from your bedside table.

Soap shook his head. "No, no, don't worry. Gaz filled me in on the way here."

You laughed. "Of course he did."

So that's how you began reading to both Gaz and Soap. That night, Soap did much the same as Gaz did previously by falling asleep— face to the ceiling, stretched out on your plush rug. His soft snores prompted your eyes away from the pages. Gaz, too, was drifting in and out of consciousness.

You closed the book gently. "Okay, you two, time for bed."

Gaz got up without much of a fuss, but he had to shake Soap to get the man to cooperate. Soap grumbled and complained the entire time Gaz hoisted him to his feet. Then, still muttering grumpily under his breath, he let Gaz lead him out of the room.

The next day really confused you.

Both Gaz and Soap turned up, and once they were comfortable in their usual positions, a soft knock echoed through your room. Soap opened the door for Price, much to your astonishment.

"You too?" You questioned as your captain took up position in your desk chair, near the foot of your bed.

He relaxed in the chair, legs spread and arms folded across his chest.

"Got nothing else to do, love." He said simply, imploring you to pick up the book with a nod of his head.

You were in slight disbelief, but nevertheless, you continued with the book. While Gaz and Soap relaxed, listening to the peaceful lull of your voice, Price asked the occasional question. You stopped patiently and replied, ignoring the frustrated groans from Soap on your floor.

"Just shut up and listen, Price."

"Watch it, MacTavish."

Not long later, you managed to finish the chapter before Soap fell asleep. You waved them all goodbye as they filed out of your room, and you forced yourself not to laugh as they did.

Now, if you were confused before, the next day threw you completely.

Once again, Gaz lay sprawled out on your bed beside you, Soap on the floor with his arms behind his head. Price returned, too, taking his place in your chair. Then, just one word into the newest chapter, the door creaked open.

Ghost slipped in, almost silently, and you couldn't help but gape at your lieutenant as he lumbered into the room, cozy black hoodie on and hands jammed into the front pocket.

"L.T, I knew you couldn't resist," Soap beamed from the floor. "You want in on the book club?"

You scoffed, smiling. "This is not a book club."

Ghost just shrugged at Soap. "Lonely outside when I can't hear you lot making a racket."

He stepped over Soap and sunk himself onto the end of your bed, leaning himself up against the wall. He stretched his legs out, brushing your and Gaz's feet, knees cracking as he settled down.

You stared at everyone, slightly dumbfounded. Then, you turned to Ghost.

"You're... here willingly?" You asked him.

"Mhm."

"You... willingly want to listen to me read my book?"

"Mhm."

You took a deep breath. "Right, okay, cool. Um, do you need—?"

"Johnny's given me a rundown." He mumbled.

Of course he had.

And that's how it started, just over two weeks ago. Every night, especially after a particularly rough mission, the boys seemed to gravitate to your bedroom. They'd curl up and listen to your soft voice as you read to them; reading them to sleep on many occasions.

Despite Ghost and Price's lack of enthusiasm compared to Soap and Gaz, you could tell they enjoyed it just as much as the younger two did. It made you smile, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside knowing you could bring these hardened military boys some peace and comfort.

"Okay, so you're telling me, the kid didn't even know he was a wizard?" Price asked, leaning forward in his chair.

You laughed. "No, he didn't. Well, now he does."

"Ridiculous." Price muttered, shaking his head.

Ghost scoffed. "It's unrealistic."

Soap rolled his eyes. "Obviously, Ghost, it's a fucking fictional book about wizards an' shite."

"No, I mean, some big cunt with a beard turned up with a fucking ugly cake and told the kid he's a wizard, and the kid just believed him?" Ghost grumbled. His attitude had definitely shifted since the first time he joined their little, as Soap called it, book club.

"Yeah, basically." You smiled.

You had just introduced them to the Harry Potter series. You weren't even halfway through the first book yet.

"Ridiculous." Ghost said, echoing Price.

"Well, what would you have done, eh?" Soap questioned, sitting up, now cross-legged on the fluffy rug.

"What, if a big cunt called Hagrid turned up on my eleventh birthday and told me I'm a wizard?" Ghost mused. "Woulda knifed him, Johnny."

"Whatever." Soap scoffed.

When they weren't arguing about the book you were reading them, the night's with the boys were really peaceful. Relaxing, too.

A balm for their tortured souls, and a salve for the wounds they had earned during battle.

Dusk would fall, and they would limp into the comfort of your bedroom, warm and smelling sweetly of you. Waves of exhaustion would pin them in place while they clung to the presence of you for stability. Some days, all four would find themselves curled up on your bed— Gaz laying next to you, head on your lap; Soap on the floor, but his head resting on the edge of your bed, a hand resting in the crook of your arm as you held the book; Ghost with his back to the wall, your legs propped up over his, his gloved hands stroking circles on your shins; Price settled next to Ghost, shoulder to shoulder, his legs beneath yours as well, a hand resting warmly around your ankle.

They listened carefully, silently, as you read to them, basking in the comforting warmth of you. Battered, bruised, and bleeding from the cuts of battle, they rested tranquilly at your side. Their ears were no longer ringing with echoes of explosions, nostrils no longer filled with the acrid stench of gunpowder and death. They could hear only you, voice silken with each word you spoke. They could smell only you, the candles that burned and permeated the air, rich and sweet and a consoling sense of familiarity.

Towards the end of a chapter, you could sense a shift in the room. Some time ago, Soap had wiggled in beside you, head in the bend of your arm and shoulder. He breathed deeply, slowly, eyes closed and hair dishevelled against the sleeve of your shirt. Gaz, too, breathed slowly as sleep had overtaken him, hand still heavy on your knee.

Ghost had slumped to the side, somehow managing to tuck his hulking frame between Gaz and the wall. Mask still on, you could see his eyes, closed and smeared with black. Price, too, had fallen asleep; still, impressively, sitting upright. His head tilted forward, hat low over his forehead, snoring softly.

You sighed to yourself, closing the book and carefully putting it back on your nightstand, mindful not to disrupt Soap curled into your side like a cat. You nestled back into your bed, snuggled up with your task force, a sight you had never thought you'd see. As you wiggled to get comfortable, Soap stirred, groaning as he looked up at you, still resting his head near your chest.

"S'all right, go back to sleep." You whispered, angling your arm so it draped securely over top of him.

He didn't reply verbally, just burrowed deeper into your side, reaching a hand around to physically tighten your arm around him. He ran his thumb over your knuckles, before he fell back asleep.

Your other hand found Gaz's head, delicately skimming his hairline, smoothing along the soft skin of his forehead and cheek. You heard him sigh contentedly, still deep asleep.

Eventually, the warmth of the room and powerful bodies around you carried you to sleep.

And it was the best sleep you ever had.

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idk if this was good or not lmao but thank you my darling anon <3 this was nice to write mwah mwah xx

#captain'simagines #captainfern #captainfernsalutes #call of duty #call of duty mw2 #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #captain john price #call of duty imagine #cod fluff #cod mw2 #captain fern not writing smut?? damn #task force 141 #gender neutral reader

[manicpixiefelix]

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 6.

Summary: Felix learns about what happened between you and Oliver at the club, and some jackass makes assumptions about you and Felix and your intentions towards Oliver. The interaction gets you worked up enough that you feel the need to repay Felix as when he'd defended you. With sex.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: SMUT; AFAB!reader, d/s dynamics, felix being a chatty brat, assume the reader is on birth control, unprotected sex.

A/N: 4782 words. cannot go two chapters without having a felix/reader moment it seems. bare with me i swear we get more oliver as it goes on, but he's just watching through the blinds right now and collecting information. also forgive me, not only is this unedited, it's also the first actual, explicit smut scene i've written in years, and even longer since i've been intimate with someone with a dick. i also dont read smut so this might be weird pacing wise at the end. honestly the smut is just a backdrop for character development. have at ye, and please lemme know what you think!

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

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Summer creeps in almost insidiously, days getting longer and warmer, humidity forcing it's way into every single facet of your lives. Afternoons outside of classes are spent doing not much of anything, hoping that when night falls, the temperature will fall with it.

This afternoon is the coolest you've had in several weeks, laying on Felix's floor, listening to him play the guitar while Oliver was draped over the foot of his bed, gazing at Felix's bookshelf. There's a sweet breeze through the open window and you hum along to the tune you recognise your best friend playing, letting yourself soak in the moment.

The quiet spell breaks as Oliver moves, reaches out for something on Felix's bookshelf.

"That's cute," he muses, "baby Felix." It must be the photo of Felix and his childhood dog, the you'd only met once or twice as a kid before he'd passed, before you'd been properly friends. But Oliver puts the photo back almost as fast as he'd picked it up, "there aren't any pictures of me as a kid," he muses.

"You and Y/N have that in common," Felix says idly, surprising both you and Oliver, though for different reasons; you hadn't even realised he'd remembered that about you. Your vapid, jet-setting, philanthropist parents had always been incredibly image conscious, and a child was never part of that image. Born out of obligation to their own parents to produce a grandchild to make eventual inheritance easier, they longed to distance themselves from the very idea of you unless they desperately needed to.

And they hadn't for as long as you've been alive.

"If there were baby photos of me, that'd prove that my parents had a child," you laughed, but there was no real humour in it, "and none of us wants that."

The invisible heir.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Oliver says faintly, an unfamiliar, unreadable look in his eyes as he gazes over at you. You give a blithe shrug.

"It means I got to find a home in Felix," you say easily, the wording sappy enough to make Felix himself laugh.

"You're such a sap, that's so much nicer than what I was going to say."

"Go on then, out with it," you prompted him, despite his faint, playful protest.

"I was going to call you another ward of the Saltburn Estate," Felix grins at you, "for better or worse."

"At least you had a family who loved you," Oliver turns away again, pressing his cheek to the duvet as his gaze focused back on the photo of Felix and his dog, "even if they weren't yours." There's a distinct discomfort in the air now, a reminder of how vastly Oliver's life differs from your own.

"I was lucky in a lot of ways," is all you can think to say. Felix starts playing guitar again.

These long days turn into long nights, parties, girls and boys and everyone in between, hazy chats and drinking games and hands on you - holding you, dancing with you, brushing past, tapping with excitement, always hands on you. The quiet way Oliver goes through these strange situations may be read as awkward to everyone else, but you're no longer under any such illusions.

"You're desperate to feel needed."

There was no hesitation in his voice the other night, his hands on you, his mouth on you.

"Then need me, want me."

How easily he'd made you flustered in the club, you didn't realise he had it in him. Honestly if you hadn't experienced it yourself, you wouldn't believe it if someone else had told you. There's been a change, however, a subtle, unnoticeable one to anyone looking in from the outside. Every so often, on nights out, you'll catch him watching you with that same hungry look in his eyes, but will never act on it, however much you wish he would.

"I do, but not like this, not now."

What the fuck was he playing at? You never knew how to bring it up, even when you were alone together. But he never stopped reached out for you, he never shied away from your touch. Apart from this one thing, it was the exact same as before.

If only that one thing didn't have the potential to change everything.

"Has Ollie seemed any different to you lately?" You go to the only person you know you can trust with this. Felix frowns at his hand of cards for a long moment before looking back up at you.

"Sorry, what was the question?"

"Ollie," you go a little slower, rearranging your own hand of cards, "does he seem... I don't know, different to you?" Then, as Felix was considering, "got any fives?"

"Go fish." You should both be studying for an upcoming exam.

"What do you mean? Has anyone said anything to you?" Felix momentarily put down his cards to relight his cigarette, fixing you with an intense gaze, "did something happen?"

"Did someone say something to you?" You pivot for the moment, still looking at your cards.

"Annabel."

"Annabel?"

"About her birthday thing."

"Are you taking your turn or what?"

"Oh, right," he's still frowning, picking up his cards with his free hand, "threes?" You swear as you hand over two threes, as he quietly cheers.

"Anyways, what about Annabel's birthday thing? Does she has a problem with Ollie?" At your question, Felix ums and ahs, and avoids eye contact, "yes then?"

"No-one else in the group is a huge fan of him," he even sounds guilty admitting it out loud, "everyone else can kind of feel how out of place he is and it makes things awkward. I know we think he's lovely," Felix tried to quickly placate you, or perhaps his own conscience, "but the man's got zero chat." This does, however, make you snort.

"Ollie's got chat," you smirk down at your cards, only realising what you'd said when you're met with a shocked silence. Looking up, Felix is staring at you with utter surprise.

"Does he now?" He sounds downright scandalised. You can feel yourself growing flustered, both under Felix's delighted, intrigued gaze, and at your own memories from the club, "so something did happen?"

"Nothing happened!"

"Something definitely happened!"

"I didn't fuck him."

"Between nothing and fucking there's a whole lot of somethings that could have happened," card game completely forgotten, Felix is enraptured as you begin to briefly explain the interaction at the club -

"- and well then, he starts calling me out while aggressively making out with me," you take a deep, final breath, finally looking Felix in the eyes, "and I desperately wanted to fuck him because of it." You sigh, and give Felix plenty of time to process the story and recover.

"But you didn't?" Finally, he speaks, and you groaned, throwing your head back to look at the stars.

"No," you sulked, "he disappeared into the crowd and I had to get myself off twice before I could sleep that night. Fucking tease," but you're heart's not really mad at Oliver.

"Always fascinated to learn what turns you on," Felix is desperately trying to hold in his laughter. It's not working, "many of them baffle me."

"That's not the point here, Fi," you rolled your eyes, leaning back against the gravel roof finally, laying back. You hear the pebbles shifting, and moments later Felix joins you, hands behind his head, "I don't know how to talk about it with him," you say softly. Then, tone much lighter, "and it doesn't surprise me that Annabel thinks he has no chat, he just doesn't want to fuck her, and she can't fathom a world where anyone doesn't want her."

Felix laughs, but unfortunately isn't able to offer any real advice to you about your Oliver situation.

Oliver Quick was an anomaly in your life, you should maybe have suspected his friendship to bring on further anomalous occurrences.

"Leave Oliver Quick alone," like the voice in the library that greets you harshly whilst you're hunting down a textbook. Spinning to see who it is, you lay eyes on a blonde man in dreadfully practical clothes; he's glaring at you like you've done him some personal offense.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me," he says sharply, gaze as unwavering as his tone, "you vapid -" he stops himself for a moment, face turning red with anger, "pricks," he settles on, "leave Oliver Quick alone, for his sake."

"Is this a joke?"

"Oh I'm not one for jokes, especially not with the likes of you; I know how you and Mister Catton operate. Selfish," he hissed.

"Do I know you?" Its genuine confusion, and for a moment the man's expression turned annoyed, his righteous indignation turning to faint disappointment as you refused to take him and his request seriously.

"Michael," like it should mean something to you, "Michael Gavey;" still nothing, "I was in the year below you at high school for four years."

"Well, Michael," you start slowly, bordering on condescending, "Ollie's a big boy -"

"I know you; you'll get bored, you two always do," Michael cuts you off with a sneer, some of that anger from just earlier returning, "he deserves more than to be a footnote in your frivolous little lives."

"Fuck off, Mikey." You say it as a warning.

"Michael," he corrects through gritted teeth, "Felix is a slag, which makes you the sensible one, so I thought you'd actually listen -" but the realisation hits you, right as you start to see red.

"You've already tried talking to Ollie," immediately, your tone ices over, humourless, cruel little smile twisting the edges of your lips. Noticing your change in demeanour, the fight seems to drain out of Michael before your very eyes, "and he ignored you, didn't he?" You asked, already knowing the answer from the way he was trying to stammer through an answer.

"Now, Michael," you tell him with a poisonous smile, taking even, measured steps towards him, as you turn his name over on your tongue with as much malice as you can manage, "Michael Gavey, I think I do know you," you're playing with your food, drawing out his discomfort with every slow word; you weren't cruel by nature, not unless someone found which button to press, "first year," you drop your voice low as you get into his space. He starts to shrink backwards, but you're practically on his toes until you're crowding him against the bookshelf, "math genius, shouts in the dining hall -"

"I didn't- just once-"

"If you ever," there's a furious look in your eyes behind your sinister smile as you stand toe-to-toe with Michael, "and I mean fucking ever, breathe the word slag in Felix's direction, or any other insult for that matter," you wet your lips, "I promise the only job you will ever get for the rest of your life will be that of a high school English tutor," you pet his cheek condescendingly, "for students with dyscalculia."

Michael actually shudders.

"You know I can do it too, don't you?" You press, and he nods, looking both furious and ashamed where he can't look you in the eyes, "we went to high school together, Mikey, I know where you came from, I can dictate where you will go." Stepping back, you clear your throat. Nodding to him, you turn on your heel to head further into the library, to continue searching for your book.

Trying to move past it doesn't work, it still irks you, you still can't stop thinking about his weaselly little face, the bitter sneer he wore, and the cruelty with which he spoke about you and Felix. It haunts you. The audacity.

Textbook in hand, you immediately head for the patch of greenery and trees near Oliver's dorm, where you know Felix and the rest of your friends will all be spending their afternoon.

"Ooh~ Y/N coming in hot," Farleigh called, spotting the metaphorical cloud of thunder above you before anyone else.

"What are you doing now?" Ignoring everyone else, you only have eyes for Felix. He grins up at you from where he was using Farleigh's thigh as a pillow.

"I assume whatever it is you're about to ask of me," he says blithely, while the others watch the interaction with amusement.

"I need to rant," was all you said, and Felix held out his hand for you to help him up.

"You're so sexy when you're angry," he says teasingly for the whole group to hear, "has anyone ever told you that?"

"I'm not kidding," you scowl, and his grin widens.

"I know, that's the best part, I could listen to you yell for hours, I usually never get to hear it." The banter continues on the way back to your dorm. The others know it's probably a cover, though none of them, apart from Farleigh of course, know the truth. Most assume you're moments from a breakdown and would like to have your best friend there for support.

The minute you're back in your room, you slam the door shut and toss the textbook to the side. Felix asks you what's wrong, tone still light, and you can feel that protective anger flaring up in you.

Slag.

"If you don't hold me back I might start getting into scraps," you tells him with seriousness, stalking up to him with intent, planting an almost bruising kiss on his lips as you fumble with the buttons of your shirt. It's not often that you're the one getting riled up; Felix is more than enthusiastic.

"Don't fight on my behalf," he laughs, frantically pulling off his sweater. Pausing for a moment to help him with the pullover, the minute it's off and tossed to the side, you're unbuttoning his shirt with one hand as best your able, as he's trying to tug your shirt off in the chaos. The two of you are moving to the bed, and he actually gasps when the back of his legs hit, when you take a beat to raise your eyebrows at him, silently asking permission.

He's already letting himself fall back with a wicked, delighted grin as your hand finds his bare chest.

Then he's breathless, with you braced over him, gazing down at him with a furious determination that you don't usually allow yourself to build up. Felix looks up at you with pure extasy in his eyes, like you hang the stars in the sky. His hands on your ass, his grip is firm and secure, but he doesn't move; he's letting you lead.

"Felix Catton, I ruin lives for you," you practically snarl; a breathy laugh escapes him, caught up in the moment, in the mood that's been building within you, "doesn't feel like enough sometimes -"

"You're so fucking hot," he groans like he can't even help himself, can't hold himself back, can't help but close the gap to your lips, kissing you with that same intensity you're giving him.

"If I hear-" you punctuate your words with rough kisses, "another word-" biting at his lips, "against you, I'm -" fumbling with his belt, "I'm gonna start cutting people -"

"Yeah?" Felix prompts breathlessly with a sharp grin, not even waiting to get your fly all the way down before his hand is in your pants, fingers at an awkward angle in your jeans but still finding your clit. It's like you're feeling everything tenfold with the earlier outrage still burning in your veins -

Vapid pricks. The likes of you. Slag. Watching Felix's hands on the girl in the club. The venom in his voice and fury in his eyes when he'd pinned Farleigh to the wall to defend you - Our Felix; Oliver's voice like honey in your ears, tempting that jealous creature in your chest that you'd gone for years ignoring -

"My Felix," you'd purred as your hand found his cock. For a moment, his breath came out as a stutter, eyes going wide as they meets yours. He looks almost incredulous, then, after a moment, hungry, wanting. It's captivating; he's captivating, like he's desperate to devour every part of this moment and you in it, barely holding himself back.

"One more time for me?" He requests, voice low and pleased, before he changes tactics, indicating for both of you to actually take off your pants.

"Everyone's fucking wrong about you," you tell him, kicking your jeans to the side, watching for a moment as he shimmies with his jeans, looking like he's made of ninety percent limbs. Still, your intensity holds.

"Even the people that like me?" Felix laughs, finally getting himself free of the jeans. Before he can remove his boxers, however, you're on him once more, thumbs hooking into the waistband and pulling them down slowly as you speak.

"Everyone else has these versions of you in their head," you begin to plant kisses along his inner thigh as you work your way up, looking up at him through your lashes, "where you're either an angel who can do no wrong," Felix is already hard when you begin to slowly work your hand up and down the shaft of his cock, "or the absolute devil who's a scourge on the female population," your lip curls for a moment, a derisive kind of amusement at their imagined expense.

"I can't look at you right now," he half chokes out, head falling back against your duvet, "fuck," he gasps. It's enough to bring you back to the moment, and you apologise -

"No, fuck, don't stop anything; the ranting, the -" he gestures to where your movements had slowed briefly, "any of it, I just literally," he laughs a little awkwardly, almost a little self-deprecatingly, "will not last more than a minute if I look at you right now."

Oh.

Oh! This is good!

"What's so different," he prompts through shaky breathes - you can't quite believe how much he's effected by you in this moment, how enthusiastically, how desperately he responds to your dominant intensity - "about the version of me in your head?"

After a beat, you climb off of him, already reaching for your drawer.

"Everything okay?" He asks, eyes opening as he tilts his head to look at you. Pulling out a tube of lube, you focus on opening it up, rather than Felix himself. You should be using protection, you know you should be using protection, but you want to feel all of him, only him.

"I can't talk with my mouth full," you told him, still maintaining that steely intensity, "so we're skipping foreplay." Felix, immediately understanding where you were going with all this, looks back up at the ceiling with a wide smile.

"Fine by me; right now I'm inclined to say that you can do whatever you want forever, honestly - cold!" He announced with shock, jerking up a little as you glided a generous amount of lubricant over his cock. There's a faint look of betray in his eyes, but you just gave him a thin, mean smile.

"Felix, stop talking."

The commanding tone is enough to get him back on board, groaning, arching into your touch as you once again were working his shaft, now so slick your hand glided easily up and down the impressive length.

"My Felix," voice once again low, you use some of the excess lubricant on yourself. Since leaving the library, however, your anger had known it's outlet; just the idea of fucking Felix in a righteous fury had gotten you going, and you were already wet, wanting, desperate for him.

"Don't make me beg," he all but whimpered as you finally straddled his thighs, "fuck, I'll do it for you, but -"

"Shut. Up. Felix." You leaned down, chest pressed to his lips inches from his, whispering, "I won't make you beg," as you sink down onto his cock, swallowing his moan with a kiss.

"I am under no illusions about you, Felix," you begin to murmur, hips rolling at a deep, consistent rhythm, "I don't have a version of you in my head, I just have you; I just want you, as you are."

Pace picking up, you sit, rake your nails lightly down his chest, watch as he pants and groans beneath you. When he holds your hips, your thighs, you can feels his nails digging in, burying himself deep inside of you with each rhythmic thrust. There's something primal and triumphant roaring in your chest, pushing you to sink your nails into him, your teeth -

"I don't care who you fuck," you tell him through gritted teeth, picking up your pace, thighs burning.

"You're a fucking liar," tumbles from Felix's lips as he looks up at you with a smirk.

"I don't, I'd be a hypocrite -" very suddenly, Felix sits up, and you go still with him still inside of you, adjusting to the change, wrapping your legs around him.

"Then you're a hypocrite," he smirks, gaze hazy, heady, euphoric in this moment, "and a liar," and he wraps his arms around you as he kisses you, pulling you back with him as he lays back down on the bed.

"I'm not jealous," you start again, softer this time, but still aiming for stern.

"I'll say I believe you," there's mischief in Felix's eyes as his hand snakes between the two of you, fingers rubbing circles against your clit as you pick your rhythm back up again, slower this time.

"Fi," for the first time all afternoon, your voice softens, and you let your stern demeanour break, instead looking over him, glowing with sweat and endorphins, in your bed, in you, looking up at you with nothing but love in his eyes, "I don't care if nobody knows it's me, but -" you wet your lips, wicked little smile on your lips, "I want everyone else you ever fuck to be jealous of the way you let me fuck you."

Something about your words, your request, perhaps your tone, sets him off again; you rake your nails lightly down his chest again and he arches up, swearing, almost breathless.

"Yes, fuck, yes," comes out alongside a breathless moan, "my Y/N, anything you want - please."

You paint him blue and purple and the deepest, prettiest red with hickeys, leaving him looking absolutely scandalous. Of course he returns the favour in the form of scratch marks up your back and his teeth almost drawing blood from your shoulder. When he comes it's with your mouth on his neck and his cock deep inside of you, holding you close, holding you steady, whispering incoherent praise into your ear. Always diligent, he doesn't move, doesn't pull out or away from you before his focus is on you, making sure you get off, delighting in watching you unravel on top of him.

In the afterglow, amid the sharing of a cigarette and catching of your breath, you apologise softly.

"What are you apologising for?" He immediately cracks a grin, "in fact, any time you ever start to get all worked up and mean like that, have me on speed dial -"

"I - no, Fi," you sighed, amused at his suggestion, though it was fading fast, "I just... try not to be jealous," there's faint notes of guilt now that you've come down from the adrenaline and endorphins of it all. Sitting against the headboard, you draw your knees up to your chest.

"I know," Felix says easily, sitting up beside you, resting his head against your shoulder, his hand on your knee, "I try too... I don't think I'm always that great at hiding it." Then, after a moment, his tone lightens, "I think this is why I don't want to tell people about us, I don't think I could begin to explain it in a way that makes sense." It gets you to laugh, leaning into him, tension and guilt easing.

"I thought it was the rush of sneaking around and lying to people."

"There's that too," he agreed with a chuckle. The two of you fall into easy silence as he takes a drag on the cigarette and hands it over. The afternoon is sticky-hot, especially in your room, curtains still half open but window shut. As you go to open it, not caring about potential onlookers in the twilight, past the sliver of your curtain, Felix speaks up.

"There's no version of me in your head? Not even a little bit rose-coloured-glasses tinted?" He grins at you, and you lay out on the bed, looking up at him through your lashes. After a moment of simply taking the moment in, you shake your head with a soft smile.

"I told you, I'm under no illusions about you, Fi."

"I think you're too good to me for that to be true."

"I want you as you are, dude," you shrug, as if it's the easiest truth in the world.

"As I am?" He wants to be sceptical but his tone and the look in his eyes betrays him. You've never heard him quite so soft you think, eyes wide and glassy and full of conflict and love; everyone wants him, everyone loves him, everyone wants to be him or be with him, he's reckoned with his reality a long time ago, even if he wasn't entirely conscious of it. Felix's life had been picked apart by everyone around him at the surface level for as long as he could remember, perhaps he'd thought that no-one would ever care to look deeper. Perhaps he'd gotten so used to it that he'd forgotten there was anything deeper.

"I want the Felix who can't keep a girlfriend for more than two months, and who's cheated on every single one of them with me," you start, wearing a grin despite his sudden frown, "I want the Felix who hugs and kisses strangers after just meeting them because he's bursting at the seams with affection, I want the Felix who won't admit that he sleeps better with someone next to him at night, and the Felix who recaps the books he's been reading to me like they're gossip. The Felix who uses people, and breaks hearts, who says he doesn't know he's doing it but I know you do," you laugh, sitting up on your knees and letting the blankets slide down your back as Felix looks up at you now with a fond kind of reverence, "I want the Felix that lights up every room he's in without even trying, who makes everyone around him feel like they're the only person in the world, and that same Felix who still shifts over, mid conversation with someone else, for me to sit down beside him without having to even ask, because you know we'll always come back to each other," you lean down, lips inches from his, burning intensity in your gaze as you take in the reverence in his eyes, "the Fi who fights for me, the Fi who loves that I'd ruin lives for him, my Felix -" You see the moment he can no longer hold himself back, arcing forward, moving from the headboard to be by you, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. For a long moment it's your mouth fitting perfectly against his, faint, desperate groan being pulled from the back of his throat as he takes your face in his hands, firm, warm, wanting, deepening the kiss.

"Some of those things were pretty shit," he laughed a little self consciously after the kiss breaks, both of you breathing heavy. In his eyes you can see the barest hint of conflict.

"People have said worse."

"And you got them expelled," he reminded with a faint smile, but again there's that conflict, "and they aren't you."

"You're my best mate," you laugh easily, "that shit, the good and the less good, makes you my Felix. Be pretty shit of me to want to chop and change who you are, you know?"

For a very long moment, you watch the way he slowly begins to smile, to take all your saying in drinking in this sun-drenched moment. Reaching out, he carefully touches your cheek.

"Say it again then," he prompts, sounding almost giddy, feather-light touches as if mapping your delicate features in this moment. For a brief second you're confused, barely angling your head to indicate as such before you can see his faint blush beneath his golden skin, creeping up his cheeks. When he laughs, almost self conscious, you realise, and grin back.

"You're a sap."

"Don't make me beg."

"My Felix."

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