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#i understand and see that you are struggling as well
stylesharrys · 1 day
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special smokes [weedrry]
summary: harry and y/n struggle with their self-control after sharing a joint at niall’s house party. 
word count: 3,774
warnings: mentions and consumption of marijuana (smoking a joint) and alcohol, smut; kissing, teasing, swearing, dirty talk, oral (male receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, cream pie, light spanking 
a/n: at first i had no intention of following up on weedrry and y/n but so many requested it and the more i considered it, the more ideas i kept getting hehe. they’re probably one of my favourite couples to write at this point and i have some other ideas in the woodwork for them aswell!! this is technically part two of special brownies but it can also be read as a standalone :) anyway, i hope you enjoy darlings and happy belated 420 hehe <3
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They promised to never talk about it again. But that didn’t stop either of them lying in bed at night, reminiscing how each other tasted. It didn’t stop Harry from thinking about his roommate as he touched himself in the shower and painted the tiles with his come. Just like it didn’t stop Y/N from pretending her thick dildo was Harry’s cock when she got herself off at three in the morning.
Neither of them was aware of the other's shenanigans. Harry thought Y/N was too embarrassed to think about it and Y/N thought Harry just forgot. Of course, Tom’s none the wiser to anything that’s happened. Even living with the two, he’s yet to notice that slight shift in the atmosphere – that tension that seems to follow wherever they go together.  
And tonight is no different. They’re both slightly turned on at the thought of one another as they sit huddled around the fire in Niall’s garden. He’s one of the few friends who was sensible enough to apply for a house rather than an apartment, and Harry is always sure to reap the benefits of it. 
It’s nearly ten o’clock and the house party Niall threw for his birthday is in full swing. Y/N recognises a few faces, not nearly as many as Harry (who’s known to have been a bit of a serial dater in the past), but it doesn’t change her mood in the slightest. 
She’s been perched on a sun lounger for the past forty-five minutes, five drinks in and slowly starting to feel the buzz of the alcohol. She promised herself she wouldn’t drink too heavily tonight – not when she knows how sleepy she gets with alcohol. She doesn’t want to be found passed out on some random person's bed that Niall houseshares with. 
Harry’s been sporting the same beer for the past half an hour. Much like Y/N, he also wasn’t really in the mood to get shitfaced, despite it being his best friend's birthday. He has a job interview tomorrow afternoon and he cannot deal with cradling a hangover at the same time. 
His eyes have been on her body most of the night. Despite living together, he’s hardly seen Y/N at home in the past two weeks since… well… you know. At first, he thought she was just busy, but now he’s starting to get the idea that she’s avoiding him. 
Harry’s sure it’s down to embarrassment, and as much as he wants his friend back, he promised he wouldn’t bring it up again. He doesn’t want to embarrass Y/N any further. It hurts his ego a little bit if he’s honest. Harry struggles to understand if she’s embarrassed she slept with her friend, or if she’s embarrassed because she slept with him.
If he pulled his head out of his ass, he might realise that it’s the former. Mostly. Because the other half of what she’s feeling is pure lust. Y/N struggles to even look at Harry the same since they hooked up two weeks ago. When she looks at him, all she sees is him naked – so she’s certain he sees the same when he looks at her. 
She takes another swig of her drink in an attempt to drown the groan that tries to escape. God, it’s criminal how even just the thought of him naked manages to get her worked up like this. He’s her friend for crying out loud. She needs to get her thoughts in order.
Harry’s telling himself the same thing. Struggling to think of anything other than kissing up her smooth, exposed thighs and burying his head under her little sundress right there, in front of everyone to see. His cock stiffens slightly in his pants and he shifts a little in his chair – as discretely as he can. 
“Who’s up for a round of spin the bottle!”
The group in the garden chant a groan in unison at Niall’s suggestion. “We’re not fifteen, Ni… nobody wants to play spin the bottle.” Alfie pipes up from his crisscrossed position on the patio floor. 
Niall rolls his eyes and places an empty wine bottle in the middle of the group anyway. Involuntarily, everyone begins to form a circle around it, knees knocking as they do. Y/N remains on the deck chair, pulling the back up so she sits upright like Harry who’s still opposite her.
Niall gets comfortable on the ground, his eyes alight like a kid on Christmas. He’s about to take his turn when he furrows his brows and begins to pat down his pockets like he’s forgotten something. 
“Anybody got a smoke?”
“Nah,” Jessie calls back, “I’ve got a couple of joints, though.” 
Harry and Y/N’s eyes find one another as their bodies grow paralysed at the mention of the one thing that got them in this situation in the first place. 
Shit. Shit. Shit. 
“Oooh,” Niall grins, “Jessie’s got the special smokes… come on then, lad. Light ‘em up and pass ‘em around.” 
Y/N’s heart begins to thump against her ribcage as she tears her gaze away from Harry’s. There’s no way in Hell this is happening right now. She tells herself to calm down, that she doesn’t have to have a pull of the joint. 
But as it makes its way around the circle until it’s between her fingers, she finds herself taking a long, deep drag of it anyway. It burns the back of her throat, as weed always has, but she holds it for as long as she can before slowly exhaling and passing it back down to Niall who sits in front of her. 
When she lifts her gaze, her eyes lock on Harry’s. There’s a shit-eating grin on his face as he holds the second joint between his fingers – like he knows they’re going to end up in the same situation as last time and he’s more than okay with that. Harry takes a drag just as Y/N had and passes it off to Genevieve next to him. 
Harry manages to hold it in longer than Y/N can and he keeps his eyes locked on hers when he slowly exhales. When the joint makes its way back to Y/N and she’s taking her second pull, she’s giving in to all the dirty thoughts in her head. Her wicked smirk matches Harry’s now and the game of spin the bottle begins. 
Niall starts first, landing on Genevieve who he kisses quite happily. Gen spins and lands on Jessie. Then when Jessie spins, he lands on… Y/N. 
Her eyes are quick to flicker between him and Harry as she registers the situation. There’s a third and fourth joint passing through the group and for a moment, she’s too stoned to realise what’s going on. 
There’s a look on Harry’s face, though – an unamused one. His jaw is set tightly and his brows are gently pinched as he watches Jessie approach Y/N with a lopsided grin. He doesn’t understand why anger begins to bubble in the pit of his stomach. And Y/N doesn’t understand why she feels so weird about being kissed by someone else in front of him. 
But she welcomes Jessie’s lips against hers anyway. It’s soft, gentle. He’s not a bad kisser, but after a few seconds, he pulls away and hands her the joint before returning to his seat. She looks to Harry again with pursed lips and he’s chewing at the inside of his cheek. 
Y/N takes another pull for the joint and reaches for the bottle when Niall’s hand on hers stops her. 
“I have an idea to make this more interesting.” 
She looks at him, eyebrow raised. 
“You have to hook up with the person it lands on.”
Her eyes widen and a laugh rumbles from her chest. “Niall, you can’t make me hook up with anyone. That’s not how this game works. You’re not fucking Cupid.” 
Niall frowns, displeased by her attitude. He crosses his arms over his chest and pinches the joint from her fingers, huffing. “Fine.” 
Y/N spins the bottle, leaning back as she watches it rotate until it lands on Harry. His eyes are on hers, hungry. She takes a deep breath and clears her throat, stepping between people as she approaches him. 
Harry cranes his head up, still not entirely happy that she kissed Jessie, but he welcomes her mouth on his instantly. They’re lustful, almost forgetting their surroundings as Harry swipes his tongue across her bottom lip. She’s about to do the same, to tangle her fingers in his hair when whistling and cheering breaks them apart. 
They’re both incredibly flushed and hot as Y/N moves back to her seat, licking over her bottom lip for another distant taste of him. Harry’s no better, his cock beginning to swell. He clears his throat and leans down to take his turn.
There’s a resounding gasp as it lands on Y/N and they're forced to kiss again, this time Harry approaching Y/N and kissing her a little hungrier. When she spins her turn, it lands back on Harry and the group is growing both tired and a little suspicious of the game. 
It gets harder and harder for them to keep their hands to themselves. The stolen kisses feed the fire in their bellies and Niall is quick to call off the game and suggest some truth or dare instead, like the fifteen-year-old he seems to be. 
Both Y/N and Harry hardly listen to the game unfold. Both are too stoned and lust-filled to pay attention to anything. They’re stealing glances from across the circle, sharing knowing looks that they’re both desperate to escape everyone else and hide away together somewhere. 
It goes on like this for another ten minutes and pinching the joint from Niall’s hand, Harry takes initiative and stands from his chair. “Y/N, shall we go and sort out Ni’s present now?” 
He’s got a brow raised expectantly and her eyes widen at his little fib. They both miss the way Niall looks between them with a beaming smile full of excitement. 
“You’s got me a present?” 
Y/N blinks, finally looking at her friend. “Oh, yeah! Sorry, we completely forgot. Do you mind if we get it sorted? It’s not quite finished yet.” She lies through her teeth. 
Harry’s smirk grows tenfold at the way she plays along with the little game and Niall nods his head. 
“Thanks, Ni,” Harry says kindly, voice a bit condescending but Niall’s too stoned to notice. “Do you mind if I smoke this in the house?” 
Niall waves his hand dismissively. “I don’t care, I do it all the time.” 
Harry looks back to Y/N, tilting his head to the door with a smirk. She follows him inside, giddy with lust and anticipation. He takes her hand in his, guiding her as he weaves through other party-goers until they reach the stairs. It’s a little quieter when they reach the top, Harry opening doors and quickly closing them when he finds they’re already occupied. 
He’s growing frustrated, only one room left that he hasn’t checked – Niall’s room. He tugs them both inside when he realises it’s empty, closing and locking the door behind them. Harry takes a pull of the joint and leaves it hanging between his lips as his fingers work on the buttons at the top of Y/N’s sundress. 
She’s full of adrenaline and arousal, unable to think clearly – her mind far too consumed by lust. Harry pops open just enough buttons to reveal her bare chest, breasts exposed to his hungry eyes and he groans. 
Taking the joint from his lips, he brings it to Y/N’s, encouraging her to take a hit. She does as instructed as Harry’s hands find her tits, kneading softly before he leans down to envelop her left nipple in his warm mouth. 
She exhales the smoke a bit prematurely, taking another pull to make up for it and with her free hand, her fingers tangle into his brown locks. 
“Harry,” she breathes and it’s like crack to him; hearing his name tumble off her lips like that. God, he wants that on repeat in his mind forever. 
He nips at the underswell of her breast, pinching the perk nipple between his fingers. “What do you want?” he mumbles against the fleshy skin.
Y/N tugs at the roots of his hair, forcing his head up until their eyes are level. She places the joint between his lips now and slowly begins to sink to her knees. 
“I want to taste you.” 
Harry’s eyes are blown and bloodshot as she begins to unbutton his pants, shimmying them down his thighs just enough to allow his cock to spring free. He’s bigger than she remembers him to be; thick and full and his ruddy tip begins to leak with arousal.
Y/N laps at his slit, allowing herself a taste. It’s an unholy sight – the way her breasts gently move as she closes her mouth around him. In Harry’s intoxicated state, everything feels so much more heightened. Her mouth feels warmer, wetter… the whole thing feels filthy and he loves it. 
She’s pressing slopping kisses along the length of him, angling her face to take his balls into her hot mouth as she pays them a little more attention. She pulls off him with a gentle kiss, staring up with doe eyes and a devilish grin. 
“Fuck my throat.”
Harry could’ve come there and then, hearing those words fall from her lips. He takes another drag of the joint before pinching it back between his fingers and placing his open palms on the side of her head – the smoke from the joint no doubt clinging to her hair. 
If she was sober, she’d tell him off for it. But she’s not and she doesn’t. 
Instead, she relaxes her jaw as her mouth opens and her tongue lays flat as Harry guides his cock back to the waiting hole. Taking a shaky breath, his hips slowly begin to move, getting her used to his size until he picks up momentum. 
Y/N’s eyes begin to sting, tears welling and his head hits the back of her throat, knocking the air from her lungs. Harry grows faster, eager. His chest is heaving and his lips part as he fucks into her. 
It’s obscene, the noises her throat makes as he shoves himself further down with every snap of his lips. Strings of saliva begin to drip from the corners of Y/N’s mouth as she gags around him, her throat contracting as she splutters on his cock. 
“Taking me so fucking well, baby.”
The praise goes straight to her cunt, wetness seeping through her little panties with every syllable he throws her way. Her eyes are shut tight now, unable to keep them open as Harry uses her for his own pleasure. 
It’s sloppy and messy and needy. Neither of them have experienced anything so fucking sexy in their lives. The sex was good before, but this time – sneaking around and much higher than previously – it’s even more intense. 
It doesn’t take much for Harry to near his end. And when Y/N cradles his heavy balls in her hand, fingernails ghosting over the divots of skin, Harry’s certain he’s about to meet his maker. 
He pulls out of her mouth harshly, not giving her the chance to tell him she needs his cum drowning her throat. His arousal is too quick to paint her chest, coating her nipples in creamy ecstasy as Y/N struggles to catch her breath. 
He comes, a lot, but his stamina doesn’t falter. She’s barely given chance to admire the artwork he marked her with before he’s tugging her up by the crook of her elbow. Y/N’s shoved against the foot of the bed, legs spread and ass in the air, tummy on the mattress. 
Harry’s hands are hungry on her hips, bunching up the bottom of her sundress until it rests on her lower back. He feels over her subtle asscheeks, offering three spanks to her left and whimpering as the fleshy skin wobbles. 
“Harry, please.”
She’s whining now, eager to be filled again. Harry tugs her little thong to the side, her cunt glistening and puffy from neglect. He wants to taste her, spend an eternity between her soaked thighs but the way Y/N wiggles her hips and backs up against him suggests she needs something more right now. 
“I just wanna taste you for a bit,” he says. 
She’s shaking her head, despite how badly she wants to feel him lapping up her pussy. She’s far too soaked and horny to settle for his tongue right now.
“Next time.”
Harry’s heart races a little at that. Next time? So, she plans for there to be. Not that Harry has a problem with it. He’d be more than fucking happy to make this a regualr thing if she wanted it. 
Listening to her request, he lines his head with her entrance, pushing through her folds to coat himself in her slickness. Her legs are trembling in need, face smushed into the blanket and she knows she’s ruining it with her makeup and the come that covers her tits, but she cannot bring herself to care. 
With the joint still between his fingers, Harry brings it back to his lips for another drag. He lines himself back with her puckering hole and gentle sheaths inside. She’s tight – tighter than he remembers – and her walls are so fucking slick it feels like he’s being swallowed whole. 
A shriek escapes Y/N’s mouth at the familiar intrusion, the way he stretches and fills her to the brim. Her mind feels dizzy, vision dotting with white lights as Harry begins to fuck the soul out of her. 
It’s fast and deep, and she’s quick to soak his pubic bone with arousal. Harry leans over her body, guiding the joint to her lips, allowing her a puff. “Hold onto that for me, gorgeous.” 
She takes it from her lips and stretches her arm above her head, wrist against the blanket and joint pointing in the air. His hands are back on her hips as he grips her tight. 
“Good girl, angel.” 
Smack!
His pace is criminal, balls slapping against her throbbing clit with every hit of his hips that he delivers. She’s struggling to stay coherent, unable to string a sentence together as she begs him for more, more, more. 
Harry grips her hips hard, bringing her cunt to him as he fucks into her. Y/N’s body is limp — lets him use her as a toy for his own pleasure and takes whatever he offers. 
She shouldn’t enjoy this so much, getting fucked by her friend, her roommate. But it’s too good to realise they’re stepping on dangerous territory. With the promise of next time. 
“Tight little cunt was fucking made for me.” 
“It’s yours! I’m yours!” 
Her words are a struggle to speak, heart in her throat as her pussy drips for him. It’s too much for Harry. To see her so bare and willing and done for him. To know the affect he has on her, to be buried so fucking deep in her cunt that she can hardly talk. 
His orgasm creeps up on him quickly, cock twitching within the tight confinements of her walls. She feels it, she feels everything. And it only spurs her release on, too. 
Her cunt clenches around him, legs beginning to tremble and a wanton cry crawls out from her lips. “I’m gonna come!” 
Harry keeps his pace steady, coaxes her through it with deep and precise strokes. The tip of his cock continues to pinch at her cervix, the curve in his length rubbing deliciously against her g-spot. 
Y/N shudders around him, desperate to milk him for all he’s got as she explodes. She’s quick to bury her face into the blanket, muffling her screams as her vision spots black and white kaleidoscopes behind her eyes. 
“Give it to me, baby. Come all over me… that’s it.” 
He’s quick to follow, bursts of hot come painting the walls of her cunt and Harry stills inside of her, knees buckling as he tries to keep himself steady. 
It’s quiet for a moment, save for their heavy breathing and wheezing chests. 
It must be true what they say about post-nut clarity. Because as they come down from their highs, there’s a tension in the room that’s far too suffocating. And it only gets worse when Harry slowly pulls out of her cunt and leaves her bent over Niall’s bed, dripping onto the blanket beneath her. 
Harry clears his throat as he tucks himself back into his pants and watches Y/N wobble to her feet as she stands. They don’t look at each other, at least not face-to-face. 
Her tits are still out and his arousal on her chest has transferred to the blanket. She's quick to fix her dress and her underwear — more than a little uncomfortable with the feeling of Harry’s come dribbling out of her. 
She gnaws on the inside of her cheek. “We should leave separately, so no one suspects anything.” 
Harry’s not given much time to confer before she shimmies out of Niall’s room and down the hall to the closest bathroom. He’s left there, slightly stunned and a little embarrassed. It’s a bit confusing, it didn’t feel like a mistake after the last time. But now, with how quickly she wanted to leave, Harry worries she regrets it. 
He scratches at the back of his head, wincing at the sight of Niall’s blanket. There’s come stains on the green fabric and the joint that Y/N was supposed to hold had been dropped mid-orgasm and burnt a small hole through the blanket. 
Deciding it would be best to just replace it, Harry bunches the blanket up into a ball and shoves it in the trash can in the corner of the room — making a mental note to buy Niall a new one. 
It’s the least of his concerns, though. 
Because despite Harry’s worry about Y/N’s regret, he still craves her touch and her presence. And she’s just the same — cleaning herself up in the bathroom and splashing water in her face to try to calm down. 
All she can think about is how much she needs him and it doesn’t feel just sexual anymore. For either of them. 
What the hell have they gotten themselves into? 
//
let me know what you thought :)
tags: @stilesissaved @kiwitsayedsugar @savannahwendel @triski73 @stylesfever @kissfromadove
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psychelis-new · 2 days
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pick a pile: "What a beautiful flower you are"
take a breath and choose the photo or number that calls you the most to read a few words reminding you of how strong, worthy and important you are through every step of your journey. remind yourself of how flower can stand up in the rain and how they may grow through concrete. no matter what is going on, remember that at the end of the day you are always the best, strongest and most valuable flower around at any given time. you can't compare with anyone else, cause you're unique.
don’t take the reading too seriously. only take what resonates with you and leave the rest. if you're not called by any pile, let this reading slid as it may not hold messages for you. if you're called by more than one pile, there may be messages in each of those piles. remember that is a general reading and some things may not resonate with you. energies can change and readings are based on present ones (as you read); you're always in charge of your life. readings do not substitute real life experience nor professionals/doctors advices.
(photos found on unsplash)
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pile 1
You make beautiful things grow around whatever negative may happen. You find the positive side in anything that happens and know how to start all over again from anything, trying to make it better. You welcome and nurture what hurts, you transform it in seeds that one day will give life to beautiful flowers just like you. I think you help a lot especially people around you in this process of seeing and finding a positive side, a different side from which to look at what happens and what has happened. You give new povs and new life to scraps and past (it could also be something you like to do creatively/practically, btw). I think those coming in touch with you are deeply changed and inspired by you. You probably forget to use this beautiful habit of yours for yourself too. Please, include yourself into this. You're as deserving of beautiful things as others. Nurture your own pain too, and do anything you can to make it grow into something beautiful and bright as you. And don't close off from others, don't hide your pain from those who'd love to help you. Let them do it for you. You deserve as much as you give away.
song: obsessed | mariah carey (don't be overly obsessed in helping others to the point of codependency, help yourself as well)
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pile 2
You may have experienced some difficult relationships (eg. family, love, friends, colleagues...) and now you kind of buildt a multi-layered wall around your heart so that people won't be able to make you suffer/betray you again. And yes it's hard for people to get in and hurt you but also to love you. And yes it may make you feel strong and in control but I think you may be also struggling a lot because of this. Being so overprotective of yourself, despite ofc understandable (it's a defense mechanism), is making you feel lonely too because it's blocking your connections from growing. You've been through a lot and you're still here but it's not because of your walls that you made it through. It's because of the love that pulse inside of you. Have a talk with your emotions, with your wounded ego, and realize that not everyone is here to hurt you. You're very much hurting yourself first by not letting others in in fear of something that may never happen. You can survive anything, you can defend yourself, you can call people out or ask for clarifications. It's not you the naive/"wrong" person if you trust others and they let you down or betray you. You cannot control what others do with what you give them, nor you're responsible of/guilty for that. Come back to you, master your emotions.
song: pure shores | all saints
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pile 3
I think at times you're confident and well but other times you let your self doubt come in between and make you fear you're saying or doing something bad? Ruining something or the day of someone else? Like you end up falling easily and fast into this negative mental pattern of being useless and inherently "bad" (guilty? unworthy?). I think it's a matter of growing acquainted with your boundaries, setting some healthy ones and not fear being judged (it may have happened a lot in your life) for them or not being appreciated anymore or abandoned if you stopped pleasing others. We need to respect ourselves too, not just others (and pleasing them is not the same as respecting them anyway: you can disagree/say no and still be respectful). It's like you forget about your worth (it doesn't depend on how good you perform) all of a sudden in fear of being left out. You may feel unsafe in setting your boundaries especially when stressed out (or it just may stress you as said), like you may fear being perceived as rude and left alone. It may be that you got manipulated or gaslighted into feeling always wrong, guilty or bad if you didn't acted as "expected of you". I'm sorry about this: remember you are inherently good and worthy, and you have the right to stand up for yourself. You won't end up alone. Find your inner balance and peace, go slow. You're already perfect.
song: underdog | you me at six
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killerlookz · 21 hours
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Growing Pains | Spencer Reid
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pairing: s2!spencer reid x gn! reader
description: after spending what felt like an eternity pining over Spencer Reid, the two of you finally began moving towards becoming something... until his run-in with Tobias Hankel seemed to put a stop to every aspect of Spencer's life, even his relationship with you.
details: Spencer's post-revelations related trauma, angst! and fluff (hurt with comfort), sporadic flashbacks
word count: 2,321
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i hate that i can't love you, but I'm just in the way / but you say i won't be here forever, and you'll take as long as it takes
Your cold hands ached as they struggled to make a fist, raising that balled-up hand to the dark, wooded door.
Every day for the last week and a half you'd come to this very door, that of your friend, Spencer Reid. And every day for the last week and a half you would knock on the door and hope with anxious breaths for an answer. Only to receive no response.
Part of you would worry he was dead if it wasn't for the fact that at the very least he had managed to at least call out of work each and every day. It was so typical of Spencer ,it almost made you smile. Even after all of the trauma he had just gone through, he still made sure to call out of work. No one expected to see him back at the BAU for a while. Not after Tobias Hankel.
Despite all too much of it having been live-streamed directly to you and the rest of the BAU, you knew very little of what had actually happened to Spencer in the time he had been taken by Tobias Hankel, nobody did. And the truth is, you barely knew of what was live-streamed. Maybe it made you "weak" in comparison to the rest of the team, but you just couldn't bear to look at Spencer in that state. The anxiety of not knowing whether or not Spencer was going to live was already too much to handle- even now, knowing he was safe, you still had trouble sleeping, the scenario of having not made it in time playing through your mind over and over again.
Knock, knock, knock
You held your breath in anticipation as your hands hit the door, you bit your lip in a painful desperation. Please, Spencer. You beg, your voice cracking as you whisper to yourself.
No response.
It wasn't like Spencer to not talk to you, especially not for days on end. The two of you had been friends since the academy. You were instantly drawn to him, maybe it was his impressive memory, or how passionate he was about his work, maybe it was his awkward boyish charm, or his sweet smile, or how his eyes lit up when he won a game of chess or cards, and the way he scrunched his nose whenever he laughed, maybe it was the way his sweaters never fit just right, and his socks never matched, or-
It was more than sufficient to say that you had fallen head over heels for Spencer, more than you had for anyone else in your life, you were in love. He was kind, and inviting, and you could never understand why everyone else seemed to make fun of him. And finally after what felt like an eternity of pining, and planning for the perfect moment- a french film marathon at Spencer's apartment and a few too many glasses of cheap wine was what let your feelings slip. You could still feel the way your stomach dropped as the words left your tongue,
"You know I love you, Spence"
"Yeah- like- as a friend." He stuttered, obviously caught off guard
You could have saved yourself then, played it cool, and said yes, but before you could stop yourself your head was shaking no.
Spencer's eyes widened and the corners of his mouth curled into a sheepish smile, "Really?" He looks down at his lap, his fingers rapidly tapping against his knee, "I- wow- I-" He shakes his head and looks back at you, "I love you too."
With a few blinks you find yourself back in reality. You could only live in memories for so long. You sighed, as tears welled up in your eyes. Part of you wondered if you were being selfish, crying about how you missed him when he was going through so much worse.
You wiped your stinging eyes, fuck it. You needed to know how he was doing. You reach into the pocket of your coat, feeling around before gripping the cool metal of your key ring. You pull it out of your pocket before gripping the keys that hung from it tightly in your hands. The dull metal pressed into the skin of your hands, and your cold, stiff fingers gripped harder to the point where it hurt. You closed your eyes, wincing as you tightened your fist around the metal even harder, trying to convince yourself to go through with your plan. At some point of you and Spencer "going steady" you had exchanged keys to each other's apartments.
You released the key ring from your grip, a red indent left in the palm of your aching hand. You sift through the various keys and with a loud jingling sound, the other keys fell to the bottom of the ring as you gripped the key to Spencer's apartment between your thumb and index finger. You sigh once more, telling yourself the worst that could happen is if he really doesn't want to see you he will tell you to leave and you will listen.
You push the key into the lock and twist it until you can turn the door handle. The door opens with a creak, and you step into the dark apartment, careful to close the door softly behind you. You can barely see two feet in front of you, all the lights are off and the blinds are drawn. Your hand slides up a wall as you fumble around for a light switch, flicking on the soft, warm wall light next to the door. You blink a few times, getting used to the light before your gaze darts over to the kitchen table. The apartment was almost unrecognizable. It was cluttered to a degree that you had never seen from Spencer before. He was usually so well organized. But now, papers, takeout containers, and half-drunken cups of coffee were scattered around the dark wooden surface.
It broke your heart to see Spencer's living spaces in such disarray, if this is what his apartment looked like, you couldn't even bear to think about what you might find if you were to peek inside his mind. Even with the lights now on, the dark green walls of the apartment never felt this dark to you.
You tread softly toward his bedroom, careful not to make too much noise against the creaky wood of his apartment floor. Part of you was aware of how creepy this seemed- and you worried maybe you'd scare Spencer by entering his room. Still- maybe it was selfish, but you missed him too much to allow another day go by without seeing him. Allowing Spencer to just stay holed up in his apartment for days on end was not going to do anything for anyone.
You press your hand against Spencer's bedroom door, it's opened just a crack and you're able to push the door open with a small creak. The room isn't as dark as the rest of his apartment, a few small beams of light from the setting sun peek into the small room from blinds that haven't been fully closed, drenching it with a warm orange color.
Spener's clothes are scattered throughout the room, and his brown leather bag had been thrown on the ground near the door, papers and books spilling out of it. You could almost guarantee it had been in that spot from the moment he got home from that dreaded case.
Your eyes flick up to the bed in the middle of the room where Spencer lay, his face down, stuffed into the pillows. His comforter had been kicked to the side, and the fitted sheet had come off one of the corners of the mattress.
You wondered just how much Spencer had actually left his bed since he had gotten home, the takeout containers and coffee cups in the dining room signified to you at least he did at some point leave his bedroom. Still, the sorry state of everything made you want to cry. How could anyone do this to him?
You slip off your shoes, and inch across the soft carpet closer to the bed, careful not to step on any of the clothes that were strewn about the floor.
"Spencer," You say, just above a whisper, attempting to let him know of your presence. He barely even stirs in response to the noise, turning onto his side deep in sleep.
As you got closer to the bed you could see him more clearly. His hair was a mess, long curly strands stuck to his cheeks with sweat, his eyes shut tight and his mouth almost turned down into a frown. Even in sleep, he looked so upset, so tortured. It made you sick to your stomach to even think about what he could have been dreaming about.
"Spencer?" You say again, weaker this time- your voice trembling with nerves.
No response.
You sigh, pulling off your jacket and allowing it to collect on the floor with the rest of the scattered clothes. You sit down on the edge of the bed and think carefully about your next move. You don't want to frighten him, but it may be impossible not to not after you basically broke in.
You reach a delicate hand outward and move a couple pieces of Spencer's hair from his cheek. His head moves slightly in response, but you continue to smooth your hand down the rest of the length of his hair. You can tell it's tangled, even without combing your fingers through it. You let your hand fall further, down his neck, resting on his bare back. He's warm to the touch as you rub soft circles on the exposed skin.
"Spencer?" You say again, louder this time leaning your body towards him.
His eyes flick open and he's jolted awake, swatting your arm away as a gasp leaves his mouth.
"H-hey," You grab his arm to prevent him from swinging any further, "It's just me Spence."
He stares at you wide-eyed, pupils dilated with a mix of confusion and fear. His throat rises with a thick swallow and his lip trembles. You begin speaking frantically,
"I-I'm so sorry I didn't mean to fright-"
"W-what are you doing here?" He asks, his voice is weak but there's a pointedness to his question.
"I just- I wanted to make sure you were okay- I haven't heard from you in a while and I was so worried about you I just-" Your brain was going a mile a minute before all of a sudden... your train of thought disappears as you look into Spencer's obviously pained eyes. His eyes blink rapidly as he attempts to hold back tears. The sheets have fallen off of him and his bare chest is shiny with sweat as it rises and falls rapidly. You let go of his arm, letting it drop down beside him. "I'm sorry," You whisper, too saddened at the state of him to continue.
Spencer stares at you for another moment before looking down, a single tear dripping down his pale cheek. Even now, like this he was still beautiful to you. And despite everything you couldn't help but for your heart to fill with love. But as your heart felt with love, the rest of your body overflowed with anxiety as you contemplated what to even do or say next. You stutter,
"D-do you want me to leave-"
"No." Spencer cuts you off. "Stay." He looks back up at you, "Please." His eyes are wet with tears that threaten to escape down his face.
"Of course," You nod, "of course," softer this time.
"Can we lay down?" Spencer asks, twisting his face. You nod fervently, swinging your legs onto the bed. You pat the pillow next to you, beckoning Spencer to lie back down. He does so, slowly, and you follow, your faces inches from each other, heads on the same pillow.
You inch yourself closer to Spencer, heat radiating off of his trembling body. You place a hand upon his cheek, stroking your thumb slowly back and forth.
"Am I ever going to be okay?" Spencer sniffles. The question feels like a knife had been stabbed right through your heart.
"Of course you will, Spence, " You assure, soft yet firm.
"It doesn't feel like it," He shakes his head, forcing your hand to fall from its spot on his cheek.
"These things take time, lots and lots of time."
"Yeah but-" He starts, getting choked up again, "What if you don't want to wait for me?"
"Wait for you?" You ask, confused as to what he meant.
"If I'm like this for too long." He answers, "You won't want to be around anymore."
"Oh Spencer," you shake your head, "No, no" You put your hand back onto his cheek.
"I feel like such a burden- that's why I haven't called," His voice breaks as he starts crying, really crying this time, "I mean- I'm an FBI agent, I should be able to get through this. Everyone else on the team would be back to work in an instant. And I can't even get out of bed."
"Spencer." You cut off his ramblings, "You are not a burden- you could have died, Spencer, no one is expecting you to be alright."
"I feel like I should be." He pauses, "I just don't want everyone to sit around worrying about me, I don't want you to sit around worrying about me. It's not fair."
"I worry because I care." You relay a small smile, "Because I love you."
"And that's what I'm afraid of, one day you'll realize you've spent so much effort worrying about me that you won't want to love me anymore."
"Never." You wipe the tears from Spencer's eyes, trying to give him gentle reassurance. "I'd wait forever for you to be okay."
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a/n: woah long time no post? I haven't posted a fic on here in almost two years! sorry I'm a little rusty, I've been deeeep in a creative rut. I'm accepting requests now however, Ive missed you guys!
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natailiatulls07 · 3 days
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Lando Norris x Female!reader
Summary - She's a workaholic, he just wants to help but she won't listen
Warning - Reader working herself raw, angst but fluff ending
A/n - I'm trying to answer all your requests, I promise, but I've been struggling alot with my mental health and college recently so please be patient 🫶🏻
-
She was at it again. Every once in a while Y/n would work herself to the bone with her work, her fitness, etc. Every time there was a routine to it - An unhealthy and tiring routine. It was just something she’d do and no one knew how to pull her out of that routine. Well one person did and over time he learnt how to pull her out of it - Her own best friend.
Each time he’d collected her up into his arms, away from her desk and through the hall to her plush and abandoned couch. Lando would wrap himself around her, shielding her from the world and he would help her relax. That man was her safe space. Every single time.
-
“I hate when you do this to yourself” He mumbles. His green eyes flicker down to her, seeing her shoulder so tense pains him really. 
A small and sarcastic chuckle escapes her lips. They had this conversation before and it’s becoming repetitive now - maybe she should listen to him sometime soon. “Mmh I know” Y/n mumbles into his firm chest, she can feel his calloused hand stroking her hair. The formula one driver lets out a heavy sigh, much like the female on his chest he also knows the common conversation between the two. 
A frown tugs on the ends of her lips as Y/n pulls her head away from his chest. “I need to get back to work…” She mumbles, actively avoiding eye contact and moving to stand up from her couch. 
Immediately Lando can see how tense and rigid she is again - It was hard not to notice it. “No no, you need rest” He urges, his British accent is soft and worried. “You’re wearing yourself out, Y/n. Please just listen to me, I don’t want to see you hurt” Although it felt like he was controlling her, the man just really didn’t like seeing like this. 
Shaking her head rapidly, Y/n struggled to tug her hands away from his. Having taken her hands in his, Lando did this to slow her and to calm her. “Lando please, I need to work…” It was getting heated now. 
There was a look of concern behind his eyes. “Y/n, you need to rest.” He wasn’t about to let her walk right back into her death. “You are not going to work. All you’ve done is work yourself to the ground. Y/n do you even hear me right now?”
“No! It’s okay Lando…” She’s pleading with him now - not understanding the damage she was doing to herself.
Lando continues to grip onto her wrists, he was determined to get his best friend to take a deserved break. “Y/n, it’s far from okay!” His voice held conviction. “A break is what you need, this cycle you’ve put your body through will eventually lead you to breaking down and we both know that it’s unhealthy!” Unknowingly tears began to form in the white of his eyes the more she resisted. 
“Get out.” Silence followed the two words. Never did they fight nor did Y/n ever raise her voice. “You need to get out of my apartment. Now.” There’s no room for discussion.
His jaw falls and he’s in total shock. “What?” The driver breathes out. The grip on Y/n’s wrists loosens and falls. Having been nothing but supportive and kind, he felt betrayed. And then he shook his head - completely refusing to leave even when practically ordered to.
“You need to get out of my apartment. Get out now!” There’s venom behind her voice as she shouts.
“No!” The two are in a shouting match by now. Lando could feel his frustration boiling and his temper becoming untethered. “I’m not leaving you like this. You need to see that rest is needed. You’re going to hurt yourself if you don’t” His fists clenched. All the formula one driver wanted to do was to help - not hurt her. 
Y/n sighs, realising that he won’t listen to her. “Fine. You can stay but don’t think you can stop me from working…” She narrows her eyes, pointing a finger towards the British man opposite her. “Unlike you, Lando Norris, some of us have to work our ass’ off every single day to just live!” 
Maybe she was right, maybe he was being selfish. But Y/n was killing herself with every coming day, anyone could see it. All Lando could do was sigh and nod his head. At least she was allowing him to stay, this way he could help. 
“Thank you…”
-
It had been two hours since Lando had seen Y/n. She had left him to settle herself in her office, back to the non stop typing. He was getting anxious and worried now.
Pausing the film he was watching, the driver moved from the couch and down the bright hall to her office. Listening from outside, he hadn’t heard anything. And when he slowly opened the door, there she was asleep. 
She looked so peaceful and relaxed. The corners of Landos lips curved into a smile. He really did love her and to see her finally at ease made him happy.
“Come on, let’s get you to bed…” He whispered, wrapping his arms around her before picking her up and carrying her to bed. Lando made his way out of the office and down the hall again to her bedroom.
As he was trying to open the door, Y/n started to stir. “Lando…?” Her voice filled with confusion and tiredness. Opening her eyes, the woman looked up at him to see his growing goatee and loveable smile. 
“Shh…go back to sleep sweetheart…” His voice was soft and gentle. Y/n felt like a princess right now as she slowly closed her eyes and fell back into a delicate slumber. “I love you so much…” Lando whispered as he lowered her down onto the plush bed - she didn’t hear him, he could only wish she did.
-
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diorsluv · 2 days
Text
casual , part 8
“ so now when we kiss ”
series m. list previous chapter
( socialmedia!au )
yourusername
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liked by _quinnhughes, luca.fantilli, and 123,748 others
yourusername who’s gonna be the chandler to my monica (i need someone to marry me when i’m still single at 40) 🤗
view all comments
vivianliu don’t worry bae i’ll hook you up with the hottest 40 year old man when we get there
→ yourusername you’re too sweet 😞😞
→ lhughes_06 no you won’t
→ vivianliu yes i will 😒 lhughes_06
rutgermcgroarty i can’t be chandler but i can be the ullmark to your swayman
→ yourusername STOP YOU KNOW ME SO WELL
→ jswayman1 there’s only room for one pair 🙄
→ rutgermcgroarty …have you just been lurking??? jswayman1
→ yourusername oh my god sway it’s you i love you so much you’re like one of my favorite goalies ‼️
→ yourusername DID YOU JSUT FOLLOW ME IH MY FUCKUGB GODDDDD jswayman1
→ jswayman1 yes i did 🫡
→ jackhughes WHAT this isn’t fair???
username25 THE jeremy swayman just followed you babe how do you feel 🎤
→ yourusername AMAZING
username37 FRIENDS AHHH
trevorzegras i can be the chandler to your monica
→ yourusername yeah.. i’m good 😬
→ trevorzegras HEY THATS MEAN
→ yourusername i’m just kidding z (not really)
→ yourusername i’m sure there’s a ton of girls out there that want you!! it’s just not me 🫶🫶
→ _alexturcotte the public rejection is insane
→ trevorzegras 💔
→ yourusername i still love u tho!
→ trevorzegras ❤️‍🩹
edwards.73 me
→ yourusername we’ll see
→ edwards.73 whats that supposed to mean 🤨
→ yourusername one night in my bed isnt gonna make me forget about everything
→ edwards.73 IM SORRY FOR IGNORING U
→ yourusername prove it
luca.fantilli i’ll be the rachel to your ross!
→ yourusername you wanna be the woman in an on-and-off relationship??? 😭😭
→ luca.fantilli yeah i wanna see what it’s like to be you for once 🤗
→ yourusername hold up
→ lhughes_06 LMAO
→ dylanduke25 THAT WAS SO UNCALLED FOR
→ luca.fantilli oops
→ yourusername 😟😟
username34 the way he looks at her 🥲
username88 I LOVE THEM
markestapa hypothetically what would you do if someone asked you out and asked you to be the monica to their chandler
→ yourusername i would marry them on the spot
→ markestapa moving a little fast there aren’t we?
→ dylanduke25 AHEM edwards.73 AHEM
lhughes_06 ustjay osay ouyay owknay ehay eallyray oesday ikelay ouyay (just so you know he really likes you)
→ yourusername we haven’t used pig latin since like middle school 😭😭
→ _quinnhughes your nerd phases
→ lhughes_06 utshay upyay (shut up)
→ jackhughes IGPAY ATINLAY (PIG LATIN)
→ luca.fantilli oh my god i remember speaking pig latin
→ adamfantilli igpay atinlay asway oatedgay (pig latin was goated)
→ vivianliu is this just a sibling thing 😭
→ dylanduke25 no tyler never learned it for me 😐😐
→ tyler___duke5 no i just never used it with you dylanduke25
→ trevorzegras ancay onfirmcay ityay asway ayay iblingsay ingthay (can confirm it was a sibling thing)
→ griffinzegras please don’t bring it back i was struggling enough back then
→ edwards.73 iyay opehay ouyay owknay iyay understandyay igpay atinlay ootay (i hope you know i understand pig latin too)
username84 who’s gonna translate all that pig latin 🥰🥰
username97 oh my god this is gonna send me back into my friends phase
→ username6 RIGHT
_alexturcotte remember the friends marathons we would have every summer
→ yourusername barely 🙄
→ _alexturcotte WHY ARE U ROLLING UR EYES
→ yourusername YOU WOULD ALWAYS “FORGET” TO TELL ME YOU WERE WATCHING IT
→ trevorzegras he was watching it with me that’s why 😉
→ yourusername ieday trevorzegras (die)
→ trevorzegras you’re no fun rosie
adamfantilli i love gale weathers
→ yourusername completely different franchise but yes she’s toooooo iconic 😈😈
→ vivianliu sidney’s hotter
→ adamfantilli that’s a hot fucking take vivianliu
→ luca.fantilli sidney prescott or sidney crosby??
→ vivianliu both
→ markestapa you’re all forgetting about billy
→ yourusername BILLY
→ lhughes_06 billy 😒
username18 i just finished friends!!
username75 I WILL
mackie.samo I VOLUNTEER AS TRIBUTE
→ yourusername i love maddy more
→ mackie.samo YOU MET HER ONCE
→ yourusername i stand by my statement
username71 istg this is directed at ethan
username8 STOP I MISS THEM
username31 i need someone to look at me like that
colecaufield ‘90s shows were my childhood 🙏🙏
→ yourusername ur literally an ‘01 baby???
→ colecaufield BARELY
username66 THEM >>>>
yourusername
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liked by edwards.73, trevorzegras, and 111,629 others
yourusername i was fuckin superstars when i was nineteen 🥴
view all comments
jackhughes woah there
→ yourusername it’s just a song ! 😰
→ jackhughes i’m sure that’s all it is 🤨🤨
_quinnhughes YOU’RE STILL A CHILD
→ yourusername IM ALMOST 20??
→ _quinnhughes UR STILL 19
→ yourusername then my caption’s pretty fitting
→ _quinnhughes 😐
username27 IS IT BECAUSE OF WHAT I THINK IT IS
→ yourusername do tell
→ username27 ur 19, u and ethan, ethan’s like an underground superstar
→ yourusername 🙊
edwards.73 the shit we did you won’t believe me
→ dylanduke25 NOW IM AT THE TURN UP
→ mackie.samo LOOKING LONELYYY
→ trevorzegras AND THEY WONDER WHY IM QUIET AT THEM HOUSE PARTIESSSS
→ jackhughes CUZ EVERYBODY SEE ME
→ colecaufield ROLL SOME BLUNTS
→ adamfantilli AND HIT HER ONCE
→ rutgermcgroarty AND NOW SHE NEED ME
→ yourusername brent faiyaz 🙇‍♀️
→ edwards.73 did u put everyone on this song 😕 yourusername
→ yourusername yeah..
→ edwards.73 thought it was just me
→ dylanduke25 dont act all jealous 🙄🙄
username55 you’re. so. pretty.
dylanduke25 creds creds creds creds creds
→ yourusername creds!
→ edwards.73 why’d you take the pics
→ dylanduke25 bc we were hanging out?? 😭
→ edwards.73 oh
username89 omg babe where’s your top from
→ yourusername im gonna be honest i have no idea vivi got it for me as a gift 😔🙏
→ vivianliu i custom made it 🤭
mackie.samo this is so #cottagecore and #aesthetic
→ yourusername who the hell is teaching you this
→ mackie.samo my sisters 😕😕
→ lhughes_06 stop using hashtags good fucking lord
→ markestapa that intervention wasn’t for nothing mack 😒
trevorzegras brent faiyaz our lord and savior
→ yourusername 🛐
rutgermcgroarty HEY why didn’t you post our photos 😞
→ yourusername tis for another time my dear boy
→ rutgermcgroarty shakespeare lookin ass
→ yourusername 🖕
→ adamfantilli guys remember when we were nice to each other
→ yourusername no
→ rutgermcgroarty no
username99 CLOUDED
luca.fantilli is he gonna ask you out or what
→ yourusername luca 😭😭
→ luca.fantilli what?? i’m jus being curious 😔
username35 HELLO????? the fit ate down
vivianliu fuck her on the floor like i don’t give a fuck bout it 🎶🎶🎶🎶
→ yourusername your judgement get clouded when you clouted
→ vivianliu your judgement is clouded as hell
→ yourusername HOW???
→ vivianliu you know 😐😐
→ edwards.73 stop hating lil bro
→ vivianliu i hope you drown
username76 that second pic got me kicking my feet n shit
username21 skincare routine when???
username3 how are you not a model
adamfantilli let me tie your shoes bc i don’t want you falling for anyone else
→ yourusername no
→ adamfantilli did your license get suspended for driving all those guys crazy?
→ yourusername adam babe we talked about this
→ adamfantilli do you play soccer? bc you look like a keeper
_alexturcotte i got you new sneakers 🥰
→ yourusername REALLY??
→ _alexturcotte i figured you’d need them after running through my mind all day
→ yourusername oh god please don’t make this into a habit
→ colecaufield stop harassing her with pickup lines turcs
username69 we all know ethan’s going feral over this one
→ username14 fr i can sense it from here
username5 the hughes genes are godly asf
notes ) this is my way of coping through the pain of being a stars fan anyways should ethan n rosie finally get together 🫢
tags: @dancerbailey3 @hughesfein @loveforaugust @alwaysclassyeagle @love4ldr @inhoodmood @bunting58 @crazycat-ladys-blog @smoooore @bunbunbl0gs @lilasianmeat
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sturnish · 1 day
Text
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౨ৎ Brothers Best Friend 2 ౨ৎ || ⋆౨ৎ˚ Matt Sturniolo⋆౨ৎ˚ || series master list ||
ᡣ𐭩 | Warnings - Smut
ᡣ𐭩 | Summary- Matt and Nate have always been friends. But throughout their friendship, Matt kinda developed feelings for Nate's younger sister, Y/n, but shes off limits for 2 reasons, her boyfriend, and the fact that she's his best friend's sister! what happens when she comes home crying because her boyfriend broke up with her?
A week later, Nate and Matt have a hockey game against another school. It's a big deal, and the entire school is there to cheer them on. As usual Y/n is there to support the team, even though she doesn't really understand the game. She sits in the bleachers with her friends, waving a blue and gold pompom around and cheering.
During a break in the action, she spots Matt skating up and down the sidelines, talking to the other players. She walks down to go talk with him, but before she gets there, Nate comes up behind her and picks her up, laughing at her scream
"Nate! Put me down!" she shrieks, struggling in his grip.
"Come on, Y/n/n," he teases. "You're not going to tell me you're not glad I'm winning" He finally sets her down and she turns around, glaring at him. He chuckles and messes up her hair a bit.
"Matt's been playing really well," she says, glancing over at him. "I'm proud of him."
Nate smiles down at her, his expression softening. "He's always been good at sports." He says, "But never as good as me." He says, flexing his muscles dramatically.
"Okay sure." she says walking away from Nate, rolling her eyes. "If you say so." She turns back to the edge rink and walks up to Matt. "Hey," she says, smiling up at him. "You're really kicking butt out there."
He grins down at her, his eyes sparkling. "Thanks, princess. I couldn't have done it without you." He says with a little smile. "Alright i gotta go, Nate's watching us."
She nods, watching as he skates back onto the ice. Her heart skips a beat as she thinks about what it would be like to be his girlfriend. It's silly, she knows they can't be together, but she can't help but wish things were different. She turns back to her friends, feeling a little down.
The game ends with the school's team winning and Matt making the winning shot, everyone is cheering. Nate comes skating over to her, panting and grinning from ear to ear, she smiles at him and punches him in the shoulder " I guess you're kinda good." she says with a small grin.
"Don't you ever forget it, " He says, wrapping an arm around her. "Hey, i'll meet you and the guys outside in 30, okay?" he says and walks into the locker room.
she walks over to the sidelines and jumps up into Matt's arms as soon as she sees him
"Matt, you won" she says and kisses him. He kisses her back and hugs her tightly.
"I couldn't have done it without you, you know that" He says and she blushes.
"We should celebrate" She says to Matt and he grins at her.
"I have some ideas on how we can do that." he whispers into her ear.
"Matt!" she giggles, "Nate is outside waiting for you!"
"Come on, i'll ditch Nate." he says, kissing her again. He pulls his phone out and texts Nate "Hey, I'm sorry but I can't meet you outside, something came up." Hits send and turns his phone off. "come on" he drags her into the bathroom, locking the door behind them. He kisses her passionately, pushing her up against the wall. She moans into his mouth, feeling the heat between her legs.
"Fuck baby, You're gonna be a good girl and stay quiet for me?" he whispers against her skin. She nods, her eyes closed, her hands tangled in his hair. "Good girl," he says, kissing her neck. "Now, show me how good and get on your knees."
She moves down onto her knees, looking up at him. His cock is already hard and she reaches out, wrapping her hand around it. She starts to stroke him slowly, looking up at him as she does. He leans against the wall, closing his eyes and groaning. "That's it, baby." She speeds up her strokes, feeling the heat building in her core.
He looks down at her, his expression intense. "I want to feel you around me." He says, guiding her head towards his cock. She opens her mouth, taking him into her mouth as deep as she can. He gasps, his hips moving involuntarily.
She sucks on him, teasing him with her tongue. She can taste his essence on her lips, and it only makes her want more. She bobs her head up and down, feeling him grow harder in her mouth.
"Fuck, Y/n," he groans, his hands tangled in her hair. "That feels so good." She moans around him, loving the feel of him in her mouth. She sucks harder, her tongue swirling around him.
Suddenly he pulls her mouth off of him then pushes it down all the way onto his cock, making her gag a little. He holds her there, his hips moving roughly as he fucks her mouth. She lets out muffled moans, feeling him get closer and closer.
"Fuck, you take it so well." He growls, his hands gripping her shoulders. "You're going to make me cum." He says, thrusting one more time before he groans loudly into her ear, pulsing his release down her throat.
She swallows, feeling the warmth of his cum spread through her mouth and down her throat. He pulls her up and kisses her roughly, tasting himself on her lips. "You're amazing." He whispers before leaning her against the wall, her back facing him. "I want you."
He pushes her pants down and underwear aside, and then sinks into her with a groan. She gasps, arching her back into him. He begins to move, thrusting slowly at first but picking up speed as they both grow more lost in the sensation.
"God, you're so tight," he whispers, kissing her neck. "I've missed this."
She moans, her nails digging into the wall.
He reaches down, rubbing her clit roughly with his thumb. "who's cock are you taking so well?" he whispers. She moans, her hips moving with his, her orgasm building quickly.
"Y-yours." she whispers, feeling herself start to come apart around him. "I'm taking yours." She cries out, her body shuddering with pleasure as she comes. Matt keeps thrusting into her, overstimulating her. "I-i cant!" she cries out, feeling her body begin to tremble.
"You can, and you will" he growls, his hips moving faster. "You're gonna take my cock like the slut you are." He says, pulling her hair roughly, making her moan.
She feels another wave of pleasure wash over her, her body tingling all over. Matt groans, thrusting into her one last time as he comes. He picks her up and places her on the sink and gets on his knees in front of her. "I'm not done with you yet," he whispers, kissing her neck. "I want to see how wet you are for me."
He pushes her legs back, spreading them wide, and then leans in, licking her slowly from her thigh to her clit. She gasps, arching her back into his touch. He sucks on her clit, flicking it with his tongue before slowly pulling it into his mouth. She cries out, her hips bucking up toward him.
He groans, holding her hips still as he continues to eat her out. "That's it, baby. Show me how much you want it." He growls, his tongue dancing over her sensitive flesh. She moans, her head falling back against the cold mirror. "Oh fuck, Y/n." He says, feeling her body start to tense beneath his lips. He sinks his 2 fingers into her, curling them and fucking her harder
She comes, her body shuddering with pleasure as she cries out his name. He continues to move his fingers in and out, sucking on her clit. Finally, she collapses bonelessly against the mirror.
He pulls his fingers out of her and places them between her lips, "taste yourself baby." She does as he says, licking the sweet, salty flavor off of his fingers. He grins, reaching up to wipe the counter top. "Now let's go find you some clothes and get you home." He says, kissing her softly. "unless you wanna come over to my place and tell me how proud you are again?" She smiles up at him, her cheeks flushed. "I'd like that."
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Taglist - @gvf23 @3kslav @riasturns
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pearlszns · 1 day
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𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐁𝐘 𝐘𝐎𝐔
𝓦arnings.ᐟ luke castellan x ( f! ) reader , loser! luke , friends to lovers , loss of virginity , SMUT , virgin! luke , sub! luke , dom!reader , mutual masturbation , p in v , lots of praising , neck grabbing , hair pulling , slight orgasm denial , unprotected sex.
𝓝otes.ᐟ 𑁤‧ ₊˚ loser! luke has my heart 🫶🫶
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Luke Castellan had been your steadfast companion since the days of your youth, a friendship forged in the crucible of camp life. From the moment you first crossed paths, his presence had become an indispensable fixture in your life, a constant source of support and companionship. Despite his insistence that your meeting had been a mere coincidence, you knew better—it was fate that had brought you together, binding your destinies inextricably.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden glow over the camp, you and Luke settled into your weekly ritual—a Friday night sleepover in your cabin. The air was thick with anticipation as you snuggled into your bed, the soft glow of the laptop flickering in the dim light. But despite the familiar comfort of your surroundings, an air of unease hung between you, a palpable tension that belied Luke's usually calm demeanor. You watched in silence as Luke fidgeted beside you, his restless movements betraying the turmoil swirling within him. It was a rare sight to see him so unsettled, his usual composure shaken by unseen forces. Curiosity gnawed at you, a desire to unravel the mystery of his troubled mind.
Little did you know, the source of Luke's agitation lay buried beneath layers of embarrassment and insecurity. The previous week, his friends had uncovered the truth of his virginity, unleashing a relentless barrage of teasing that had worn down his defenses with each passing day. What had started as harmless banter had morphed into a relentless onslaught, chipping away at his confidence and leaving him adrift in a sea of self-doubt.
With a heavy sigh, you mustered the courage to confront the elephant in the room, the unspoken tension between you demanding acknowledgment. It was time to delve into the depths of Luke's turmoil, to offer solace and support in his hour of need. "Luke," you murmured softly, the use of his full name a rare departure from your usual casual tone, "you seem off, everything alright?" The concern in your voice was evident as you reached out to him, your fingertips brushing against his cheek in a gentle gesture of reassurance.
Luke's gaze wavered, his eyes darting away from yours in a telltale sign of discomfort. Your heart sank at the sight, a knot of worry forming in the pit of your stomach. It was unlike him to evade your gaze so blatantly, and the realization only served to heighten your concern."Nothing, just. . dealing with some stress," Luke replied, his words strained as he attempted to deflect your inquiry. The tension in the air was palpable, thick with unspoken words and unresolved emotions.
But you refused to let him brush off your concerns so easily. With a determined frown, you pressed on, your voice gentle yet firm. "Come on, Luke," you urged, your hand cupping his cheek in a tender gesture, "I know you like the palm of my hand. Something's clearly bothering you." As you paused the film, your undivided attention focused solely on him, you offered him a reassuring smile, your eyes searching his for any sign of vulnerability. "You can tell me anything, you know that, right?" you reminded him, the sincerity of your words cutting through the tension like a knife.
A faint blush colored Luke's cheeks, his hesitation evident as he struggled to meet your gaze. The weight of his unspoken thoughts hung heavy in the air, a silent plea for understanding and acceptance. "You won’t— you promise me that you won’t think any less of me, alright?" Luke's voice trembled with vulnerability, a flicker of insecurity dancing in his brown irises. Your heart clenched at the sight, a surge of protectiveness welling up within you as you gazed upon your troubled friend.
Frowning, you reached out to him, the soft caress of your fingertips against his cheek a silent reassurance of your unwavering support. His turmoil weighed heavily on you, your worry mounting with each passing moment. "Of course not, Luke. . You're my best friend," you replied, your voice laced with warmth and sincerity as you sought to ease his fears.
As Luke nodded in acknowledgment, a sense of relief washed over him, his tension melting away under the comforting touch of your hand. With a deep breath, he finally found the courage to open up, his confession tumbling forth in a hesitant whisper. "Well, the guys found out I’m still. . a virgin and they've been teasing me about it all week."
Your heart went out to him, sympathy etched into every line of your expression as you listened to his words. Despite the gravity of his confession, a soft chuckle escaped your lips, the tension in the room easing slightly. "That's it?" you replied, a playful twinkle in your eyes as you sought to lighten the mood. "They're a bunch of idiots. . Just ignore them, Luke," you reassured him, your hand moving to gently stroke his soft hair.
Luke's laughter mingled with yours, a brief moment of levity in the midst of his turmoil. Yet, beneath the surface, a lingering unease remained, his troubled thoughts still weighing heavily on his mind. As his gaze drifted back to the paused movie on the screen, you could sense his lingering discomfort.Your brow furrowed with concern, you mirrored his troubled expression, your determination to alleviate his worries unwavering. "yeah, i know" he muttered, his eyes fixed in yours as he thought of his next words, "but it's hard not to let it get to me when they treat me like some sort of joke”. “Don't say that. . There's nothing wrong with being a virgin," you insisted, your words infused with conviction as you sought to bolster his confidence. Despite your reassurances, you couldn't shake the lingering sense of indignation at the thought of Luke being made to feel ashamed of something so natural and normal.
As you watched him, resolve burning bright in your eyes, you silently vowed to confront the source of his distress head-on, determined to defend your friend against the cruel taunts of his peers.
"I know, I know. . I can't help but feel self-conscious about it though," Luke confessed, his voice tinged with a hint of insecurity. As he spoke, you could sense the weight of his words, the burden of his insecurities pressing down upon him like a heavy cloak. "I mean, everyone else seems to be. . well, you know." "Experienced?" you offered, gently finishing his sentence as you reached out to him, your fingers intertwining with his in a gesture of solidarity. You wanted nothing more than to ease his discomfort, to offer him the reassurance he so desperately sought. Luke's gaze fell upon your joined hands, a soft sigh escaping his lips as he leaned into the comforting warmth of your touch.
"Yeah. . experienced," he affirmed, his words heavy with resignation. The vulnerability in his eyes tugged at your heartstrings, a silent plea for understanding and acceptance. Despite his outward confidence, it was clear that beneath the surface, he grappled with doubts and uncertainties. "It's not like I haven't tried to lose my virginity or anything; it's just never been the right time or person, I guess," Luke admitted, his voice tinged with a note of regret. Your heart swelled with affection for him, his honesty and vulnerability only serving to endear him to you even more. He was, without a doubt, the epitome of the perfect guy—the perfect friend.
"You'll get there eventually, trust me," you reassured him, a soft chuckle escaping your lips as you leaned your head against his shoulder. "Just don't overthink it, okay?" Your words were infused with genuine warmth and understanding, a silent promise to stand by him through thick and thin. A smile tugged at the corners of Luke's lips, his features softening with relief as he realized he had confided in you. His grip tightened slightly around your hand, a silent expression of gratitude for your unwavering support. With a sense of peace settling over him, he rested his head atop yours, his touch a silent reassurance of your unbreakable bond.
"I know, thanks for. . well, for being here" Luke murmured, his voice soft with emotion. Your heart swelled with affection at his words, a warm glow spreading through you at the knowledge that you could provide him with solace in his time of need. "Always, Luke," you replied, pressing a brief kiss to his cheek. "And if they bother you again about it, just let me know. I'll gladly hit them," you added, a playful glint in your eye as you shared a laugh. Together, you knew you could weather any storm that came your way, your friendship a beacon of strength and support in a world filled with uncertainty.
"You would do that for me?" Luke's voice was filled with wonder, his expressive eyes shimmering in the soft glow of the room. His vulnerability was palpable, a raw emotion laid bare before you. "I'd do anything for you," you replied without hesitation, your voice laced with sincerity as you met his gaze with a warm smile. It was the truest thing you had ever spoken, a testament to the depth of your devotion to him. He was worth every sacrifice, every ounce of effort.
Your words seemed to stir something within him, a flicker of determination igniting behind his eyes as he studied you intently. "Really? Anything?" he questioned, his voice lowering slightly as he leaned in closer, his gaze never wavering from yours. The intensity of his stare sent a flurry of butterflies dancing in your stomach, a tangible electricity crackling between you. "Of course, silly. Anything," you reassured him, a nervous laugh bubbling up as you tried to ease the tension that hung heavy in the air. His next words caught you off guard, your breath hitching in your throat as his proposal hung in the air between you.
"Would you. . maybe. . want to be my first?" Luke's voice was hesitant, his words laden with a vulnerability that tugged at your heartstrings. Your mind raced, grappling with the weight of his request. Was he serious? Could you truly be the one to guide him through such a momentous experience?. "Luke, are you sure about that?" you asked, your voice tinged with uncertainty as you searched his eyes for any hint of doubt. "We just talked about this. There's nothing wrong with being a virgin, I mean you aren’t the only one here in camp." you reminded him, your words echoing the sentiment of your earlier conversation.
"I know," Luke replied, his voice soft as he chewed nervously on his lower lip. For a moment, he averted his gaze, his thoughts drifting inward before he met your eyes once more. "But I can't stop thinking about it. . And I'd really like it to be with you." Your heart swelled with emotion at his admission, the weight of his words settling like a warm embrace around you. In that moment, you realized the depth of his trust and the magnitude of his feelings for you. It was a choice you would have to make carefully, but one thing was certain—you would never take his trust for granted.
"Really?" you gasped in genuine surprise, a soft laugh escaping your lips as you nibbled nervously on your bottom lip. Luke's confession caught you off guard, stirring a whirlwind of emotions within you. You had always cared deeply for Luke, but as he stood before you now, baring his heart and soul, you couldn't deny the truth any longer. You were in love with him. Your feelings for Luke ran deeper than mere friendship; they were complex and undeniable, a tangled web of longing and desire that you had tried to suppress for far too long. But now, faced with his heartfelt plea, you found yourself unable to ignore the truth any longer.
"You aren't just doing it out of social pressure, are you?" you asked softly, your voice tinged with concern as you searched his eyes for any hint of uncertainty. It was important to you that Luke was making this decision of his own free will, without any external influence clouding his judgment. "No, I mean it," Luke replied, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment as he met your gaze. "I really want it to be with you. You’re just so. . kind and sweet. I've had a crush on you for years." His words hung in the air between you, each syllable laden with sincerity and vulnerability.
Luke's confession sent a thrill coursing through your veins, igniting a spark of warmth deep within your chest. In that moment, everything seemed to fall into place, the pieces of the puzzle fitting together with a clarity you had never known before. You were overwhelmed by a rush of emotion, your heart pounding in your chest as you gazed into Luke's eyes. With a sudden surge of courage, you closed the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a tender, passionate kiss. In that fleeting moment, all of your doubts and fears melted away, replaced by a sense of certainty and clarity. You didn't know what the future held, but one thing was certain: you were ready to see where this was going.
"Then, I guess it can be arranged," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath as you reached up to cup Luke's face, drawing him closer until your lips met in a tender, sweet kiss. Luke's eyes fluttered shut as he melted into the embrace, his hands finding their way to your hips as he deepened the kiss with a soft gasp. As the kiss intensified, you took control, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging gently as you slipped your tongue into his mouth. The innocent kiss quickly escalated into a passionate make-out session, the heat between you palpable as Luke's hands trailed down to the small of your back, pulling you closer to him.
You moaned softly against his lips, savoring the taste of him as your hand trailed down his neck, eliciting a gasp from him. His fingers dug into your waist as his tongue danced with yours, his arousal evident as he pressed against you. Sensing his growing desire, you gently flipped the position you were previously, now you on top of him, straddling his lap as you resumed your fervent kissing. Luke's arms wrapped around you, pulling you impossibly closer as one hand trailed up the hem of your shirt, the gentle caress of his fingertips sending shivers down your spine. With each touch, the intensity between you grew, the world outside fading away as you surrendered to the passion of the moment.
"Do you want me to take this off, baby?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper as you broke the kiss, your fingers teasing the hem of your top. Luke's gaze darkened as he met yours, a hunger evident in his eyes as he licked his lips in anticipation. "Yes, please. . take it off," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. With a playful smirk, you grabbed the hem of your top and pulled it off, revealing your bare breasts to his intense gaze. Luke's breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight, his eyes roaming over your body with a mix of awe and desire. They were perfect, just like the rest of you, and he couldn't tear his gaze away.
"Have you ever touched a girl, Luke?" you questioned, your tone soft and inviting as you met his gaze. Luke swallowed hard, his hands trembling with anticipation as he shook his head slightly. "No, I haven't," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Don't be shy, baby," you reassured him with a gentle smile, reaching out to guide his hands to your breasts. "Like this." Luke's hands followed your guidance, his touch tentative at first as he cupped your breasts in his palms, his thumbs brushing against your nipples.
A soft gasp escaped your lips as pleasure surged through you, your cheeks flushing with heat as Luke's touch sent shivers down your spine. "fucking beautiful" he whispered, his voice filled with awe as he continued to explore your body with reverent touches. "Mmh. . thanks," you murmured, your breath hitching in your throat as you squirmed in his lap, the heat between your bodies growing with each passing moment. The way he worshipped your body ignited a fire within you, your desire for him burning hotter with each caress.
Luke's breath hitched in his throat as he felt your body pressing against his, the undeniable heat of your arousal igniting a fire within him. With a soft moan, he trailed kisses along your jawline and down your neck, his lips leaving a trail of heat in their wake. You whimpered softly, your eyes fluttering shut as you felt his tongue teasing at one of your hard nipples. Tangling your fingers in his soft hair, you caressed his scalp tenderly, eliciting a low groan from him as he sucked gently at the sensitive flesh. His hand trailed down between your legs, slipping underneath the fabric of your shorts and panties. You gasped at the sensation of his fingers brushing hesitantly against your pussy, his touch uncertain yet eager to please.
"Luke," you gasped, tugging gently at his hair as you looked into his eyes with a mixture of desire and amusement. "You've never done that before, have you?" His cheeks flushed slightly as he shook his head, his gaze still locked onto yours. "No... I haven't," he admitted, his voice tinged with nervousness. With a soft smile, you guided his hand away from your panties, pulling him gently to sit beside you. Pushing your shorts and underwear down your legs, you exposed yourself completely to him, your breath catching in your throat as his eyes roamed over your bare flesh.
As his finger traced along your thigh, you reached down to cup your pussy, your fingers parting your slick folds to rub your swollen clit in slow circles. You couldn't help but gasp at the sensation, your body responding eagerly to your touch. "Just like this, see?" you murmured, your voice thick with desire as you looked at him with glazed eyes. Luke's gaze darkened as he watched you touch yourself, his own arousal evident as he replaced your fingers with his own, mirroring your movements as he began to rub your clit in small, precise circles.
"Fuck, yeah, like that" you muttered, your breaths coming out in sharp pants as your hips instinctively bucked forward, seeking more of his touch. "You're doing so good for me, baby," you praised, your voice thick with desire and admiration. Luke groaned at your words, his arousal evident as he watched you writhing under his touch. His cock throbbed in his pants, desperate for release as he wished more than anything to be buried deep inside you. You reached beside you, pushing his sweatpants down his thighs just enough to free his erection. He arched his back slightly to assist you, his hard cock springing free, standing tall against his flat stomach. Your mouth watered at the sight of him, his size impressive and intimidating.
"Can I touch you, baby?" you asked, your hand absent-mindedly tracing patterns over his abs, your touch sending shivers down his spine. Luke's breath hitched at your touch, his abs flexing under your fingertips as he nodded eagerly. As you wrapped your hand around his length, he groaned, his head falling back against the headboard as you began to stroke him slowly, his fingers still teasing your soaked pussy. His eyes fluttered shut as he relished in the sensation, his lips parting in a soft moan. "That feels so good," he muttered, his hips instinctively bucking against your hand as he felt the pleasure building inside him. You moaned in response to his touch, the sensation sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. As his fingers picked up speed, you gasped, your chest heaving as you felt yourself getting closer to the edge. Luke's smirk grew wider as he felt your body responding to his touch, his lips finding yours in a passionate kiss that you eagerly returned.
Breaking the kiss, you whined as his fingers continued to thrust inside you, your face contorting in pleasure. As you quickened the pace of your hand on his cock, he groaned, his mouth finding your neck, his free hand cupping your breast. Your pumps became sloppier as you approached your orgasm, your pussy tightening around his fingers as you felt the coil in your belly about to snap. "Luke, fuck," you cursed, your breath hitching in anticipation. With a smirk, you released his cock from your grasp, climbing onto his lap as you straddled him, his hands finding purchase on your hips. You guided him inside you, slowly lowering yourself onto him, a moan escaping your lips as you took him deep inside. Once he was fully seated within you, you paused, savoring the feeling of being filled by him completely. "How does that feel, my pretty boy?" you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear as you nuzzled his neck affectionately.
"It feels so good," he breathed, his hands gripping your hips as he began to thrust up into you, his movements instinctual and desperate. Every inch of him felt perfect inside you, the connection between you electric and intoxicating. "You feel amazing," he whispered in your ear, his voice ragged with need as he surrendered to the pleasure of being joined with you completely.
You whined, involuntarily breaking the contact between your lips, your face scrunched in pleasure as you felt his cock twitching under your touch. Your hand moved faster, stroking his length, your thumb teasing the tip that was already leaking precum. He groaned, his mouth finding your neck, his free hand sliding up to cup your breast, massaging it gently as he continued to finger fuck you. The sensations were overwhelming him, his arousal peaking, but he wanted to make it last as long as possible. "Luke, fuck," you cursed, your pussy tightening around his fingers as you felt the coil in your belly about to snap. "Such a good boy. . making me feel so good," you gasped, your pumps becoming sloppier as you approached your orgasm. His breath hitched at your praising words, his hips bucking against your hand, unable to contain himself any longer. "Please. . let me inside you," he begged between breathy moans, his fingers thrusting in and out of you harder.
"How do you want me, baby?" you asked in a whisper, your lips brushing his as you spoke. Luke nipped at his lower lip, his answer coming effortlessly. "I want you to ride me," he muttered, his eyes glazed with lust as he locked onto yours. You gasped when he withdrew his fingers from your pussy, a smirk tugging at your lips as you said, "Whatever you want, baby." Releasing his cock from your grasp, you climbed onto his lap. His breath caught in his throat as you straddled him, his hands finding purchase on your hips, pulling you closer to him.
You grabbed his cock and placed the tip against your entrance, slowly lowering yourself onto it. A moan escaped your lips as you took him inside, feeling him filling you up completely. Once he was fully seated within you, you stood still for a moment, savoring the sensation. "How does that feel, my pretty boy?" you asked, leaning in to nuzzle his neck affectionately. He groaned, his hands moving to cup your ass as he began to instinctively thrust up into you. Every inch of him felt perfect inside you, like he belonged there. "It feels so good," he whispered in your ear, his breathing ragged.
"Yeah. . it does," you agreed, starting to ride him slowly at first, relishing in the feeling of him stretching you out. "It's like your dick was fucking made for me, Luke," you moaned, your breath coming out unevenly. He shuddered as he bucked up into you, his fingers digging into your ass as he sought more of your touch. You smirked, watching him unravel beneath you. Leaning in to suck at his neck, you left hickeys in your wake, each one earning a moan from him. "You like being deep inside my tight pussy, Luke?" you teased, the sight of your bouncing breasts adding to his pleasure. "Yeah. . so fucking much," he panted heavily, his hips lifting up to meet your downward thrusts. "Such a naughty boy. . but I love it," you cooed, relishing in the power you held over him. "You look so fucking pretty underneath me, baby," you complimented him, his arousal evident as he slid one hand down to rub against your clit roughly.
"Don't stop, please," he begged, his hips jerking up into you, desperate for release. "You close, pretty boy?" you asked him, your own release edging closer. He nodded in response, whimpering as he struggled to hold back his orgasm. "You gonna be a good boy and hold it in for me, yeah?" you ordered, your voice firm. "Yes. . I'll be good for you," he whimpered, his cock throbbing inside you, aching for release. "That's my boy," you praised him, struggling to keep up the pace as your legs began to shake from the pleasure. "You gonna make me cum, baby," you moaned, your hand moving up to grasp at his neck, applying light pressure. His eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, your grip limiting his air flow just enough to make it pleasurable. "Oh fuck! I'm cumming," he moaned, his hips thrusting up into you uncontrollably. "Hold it," you commanded, your voice stern. "You won't cum until I do."
"Just a minute, baby, I'm almost there," you promised, whimpering as your pussy clenched around his cock, your orgasm building. Riding him harder, you kept going until you finally fell over the edge, moaning loudly as pleasure washed over you. "Oh gods, Luke," you moaned, "you can cum now, baby." As soon as you gave him permission, he came with a loud whimper, his thick cum shooting inside you as both of you rode out your highs, holding onto each other tightly.
He panted, leaning his forehead against yours, his heartbeat slowing down as he tried
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justanotherlifeff · 2 days
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Love is meaningless
[True form heian era Sukuna x reader. I may have taken many creative liberties with his backstory alongside certain spoilers so be warned!]
Love is meaningless, this was something Sukuna believed for most of his life. He can proclaim it precisely because he understands it. Being born a wretched curse by his foolish starving mother was not a start to life he had appreciated, but it was what it was. Fate was that he absorbed his twin for nourishment, fate was that he was born monstrous. One can only live with fate and become stronger, after all. Of course, he had to raise himself, of course he had to get stronger to survive. The golden age of Jujutsu meant many other cursed spirits, and of course, humans were no better. Weak people shouldn’t complain about their transgressions after all. That is simply how the world is built, to please the strong.
Yet, unexpected things happen, as it is part of life as well. Some people find it in their stupid, human, hearts to love a monster. And sometimes, something as meaningless as love creeps up in a monster’s heart too if they are weak enough. Sukuna wasn’t born the king of curses after all. It was a meaningless gesture that one might call kindness, something he believed that he didn’t deserve, that started it all. Just like his mother who birthed him, this foolish girl gave him an apple from her basket when he was starving. A foolish act of kindness from a human to a cursed being. He accepted nonetheless, as a starving man would, since this was before the days when he took whatever he wanted.
The days when he was weak enough to be considerate. For some reason, you kept coming back, with food every time, and for some reason, he didn’t leave the outskirts of that village after the first few encounters. He convinced himself that it was because your cooking was amazing, not because he wanted to see that smile on your face again, not because he was getting addicted to that kindness. Why would a human be kind to the likes of him after all? Surely, he was being delusional. However, weeks turned to months, and you wouldn’t stop visiting the small cave where he was living at, since no one would give him shelter or a job due to his monstrous features. Somehow you weren’t afraid of the four arms, the four eyes, the odd markings on his body. Somehow, you made conversation with him at one point as you watched him eagerly eat whatever food you brought him and somehow, he found himself replying. Hope was something that the weak shouldn’t have and yet, he found it in you, he made that mistake.
Looking at water in streams was something he hated, because it showed him his inhumanity and made the struggles he faced his entire life be something that was acceptable. Who would care for a monster after all? And yet, one day, you looked at him and called him beautiful with a blush on your pretty little face. He didn’t know how to reply to that, as someone who never encountered a situation like that before and yet, he couldn’t sleep all night, thinking of those words. He awkwardly called you beautiful too the next day.
Small compliments turned into teasing and at one point, neither you nor he had to say it out loud that you loved each other. It was simply something that happened. However, you had to keep it a secret from the village, and he understood why. Loving something like him had its consequences as they would kill you for being with a curse. He understood the consequences but his hunger for you was far too much to ignore. It started with kisses, and then he wanted more, so much more. And you let him take what he wanted with a smile on your face, that same smile he fell in love with. Even your old kimonos started looking like ones that queens would wear, your simple hairpin was better than the highest quality jade to him. You were beautiful and you were his and that was the best thing that happened in his wretched life at the time. Or at least, he was foolish and weak enough to believe so.
During his days as the king of curses, he saw the women he fucked as no more than pieces of meat that exist for his pleasure. One might think he wasn’t capable of being gentle, of having any other expression than the ruthless and deranged smile that adorns his face. Yet, his first time was so different, as he looked upon your beauty with nothing but wonder in his eyes, not believing his own luck as you were naked underneath him, that beautiful tint of red adorning your face. Perhaps that was when he found himself loving the color red so much, it was never about the blood of the thousands he killed later in life. You looked beautiful even with your old kimonos, but you looked divine without it, and he wasn’t shy enough to keep that opinion to himself, mostly because he wanted to see that blush on your face when he says it out loud. He wanted to hear you call out his name in that affectionate and yet pleasured voice when he was deep inside you. He wanted you, all of you, even if he didn’t deserve you.
The weak gets trampled on, it isn’t something they should complain about as it is the way of life. He almost had you, the day you came to him with a worried expression on your face and told him that you may be expecting his child. For a moment, he dreamed, despite being weak. He asked you to elope with him, that he would protect you. He knew that the child he sired would be cursed too, and that you were unmarried, so of course, overall, you would be killed if he left you alone. He loved you far too much to even consider that. “Come with me, Ill take you far from here and protect you. I’ll make sure nothing hurts you or our child. I’ll get stronger for you.” He told you with that gruff tone of his. To his surprise, you agreed. However, you were a kind little thing full of hope. You wanted to see your parents one last time before leaving with him forever. He didn’t understand it, but he wanted you to be happy, so he suggested making a binding vow. A part of him felt wary as all these felt too good to be true.
The vow was simple, it was to live as long as you can. He was still new to forming binding vows, so he forgot to acknowledge the fact that breaking the vow didn’t mean much if someone else killed you. Only that your death would be far more painful. Things were peaceful, too peaceful. He ate the food you cooked him, talked with you about a future together, looked at the sun set together. Like every day, you left him after that with a kiss on his cheek. Yet, he felt uneasy enough to sneak near the village that night after hearing the commotion.
It didn’t take long to find you, as you were right there, in the middle of the village square, or at least your severed head was. The blood splattered everywhere indicated the effects of the binding vow, your entire body exploded when your head was cut. Perhaps you were weak and ended up telling your parents, perhaps somehow, they found out that you were pregnant with his child, he would never know. That village burned that night and not a single person there survived. As he stood there, watching whatever was left of you burn with the village, it was almost as if he achieved enlightenment. The weak shouldn’t complain, so he wasn’t complaining. He would get stronger so that he would be the one taking, to fill the void that was created this day. His hunger was endless because he would never eat the food you cook again. Love is meaningless, because without you, this world lost its meaning.
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princessbiteme0o0 · 2 days
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Jealousy~ (JSchitlin x Reader)
The current request I’m working on is kinda dark and I need a break from it for a moment so enjoy this smut with almost no plot.
Also, a side note- whether or not Schlatt is in a relationship is none of our business. If he is then I’m inexplicably happy for him, if not, then that’s (probably) his choice. As fans, I feel like we should just be happy for him, rather than push him towards something he doesn’t want or try to pressure him for information that doesn’t belong to us. ALSO, this isn’t meant to offend anyone, but Schlatt deserves all the privacy he wants. Don’t forget that creators are people too :)
Love you guys 🩵🩵
WARNINGS: Jealousy (obviously), mostly smut, porn with very little plot, fingering, ownership kink, let me know if I need to add more :)
—🩵—🩵—
She hated parties; hated them.
He knew this and he was well aware of why. With her history, it’s understandable why she hated being surrounded by drunk men. He knew she was beautiful and he knew that she had to deal with men (and women) flirting with her all of the time. He also knows that he has no right to be jealous, but currently that didn’t matter to him. His eyes were locked on Ted, who despite him only being six or seven inches taller than her, seemed to tower over her.
She awkwardly smiled when Ted leaned against the wall in front of her, grinning like a Cheshire Cat as he stared down at her. She was internally questioning why she agreed to come; she should’ve known that if her and Schlatt got separated that she’d have men approaching her. Her mind is drawn from her thoughts and frustrations at her best friend as Ted speaks.
“Hi there, Honey.” He hums, low voice melting the tension between them. It was her turn to speak and she struggled to decide whether to flirt back or not.
“Hi, Ted.” She whispers softly, a warm blush spreading across her cheeks. As Schlatt stood back and watched this interaction, he felt a jealous rage swelling in his chest. Before he knew what he was doing, his feet directed him in their direction.
“You look absolutely adorable in that pretty little skirt.” He drunkenly slurred and she could smell the alcohol rolling off of him. A warm blush warmed her cheeks, making Ted chuckle softly.
“Thanks…” She trailed off, a nervous insecurity swelling her chest. Ted moved just the slightest bit closer and she could feel the warmth rolling off of his body.
“Why so shy, (Y/N)?” His voice is low and gravelly as he speaks and she furrows her brows when she looks up at him.
“You know I’m not a big talker, Ted.” She mumbles softly, bowing her head slightly. His fingers snaked their way under her chin and tilted her head up to make her look at him.
“I bet I could make you one-“ His words are cut off when Schlatt clears his throat beside them and slips an arm around her waist, pulling her away from Ted. Ted opens his mouth to say something, but shuts it as soon as he sees the glint in Schlatt’s eyes. Grumbling under his breath, Ted rolled his eyes and glared at Schlatt.
“Why don’t you go get a drink, Toots? I need to talk to Teddy Boy.” He smiled down at her and as a soft blush spread across her cheeks. Nodding quickly, Schlatt grinned as he watched her scurry off towards the kitchen. Turning back to face Ted, he raises a brow. Ted stares right back at him, glare boring into him. “What in the hell is wrong with you, Ted?”
“What?” Ted snapped in return, shifting on his feet as he moved to rest his back fully against the wall.
“You know how I feel about her.”
“Well you better tell her. If you don’t take her, I will.” Ted grumbled drunkenly, pushing off of the wall. Schlatt had to fight every urge to launch himself at Ted, instead he focused his attention on her. His eyes found her cute little figure, head down and cheeks pink as she grabbed a beer for him through the crowd of people. Before he could even think about it, his feet were guiding him towards her. Snaking his right arm around her, she tensed for a moment.
“Easy there, Pumpkin, it’s just me.” He whispered to her and she audibly breathed out a warm sigh, looking up at him and smiling softly. His eyes ran over her face for a moment before he spoke again. “Can I talk to you upstairs?”
“Sure.” She hums, eyes soft and sweet; that was one of his favorite things about her- if he stared into her eyes, he could see into her soul. Her kindness and subtle purity making a warmth flood his gut every time he looked at her. He gently takes his hand in hers and guides her through the crowd and up the stairs. Once the two of them made it upstairs, he leads her into a room and leans his back against the door after he shuts it.
“Jay…?” She whispered and the way her voice sounded nearly made him snap right then and there, biting back a growl. He slowly took steps towards her, fully expecting her to walk backwards as she does with everyone else, but she just stood there and watched him. He only stopped when he could feel the warmth of her body radiating through the tiny gap between them. Lifting his hand, he slowly and gently ran his fingers over her collarbone.
“So fucking sweet, like candy…” He mumbled as his fingertips still carefully explored her skin, ghosting up the side of her neck. “So pure, like a pretty little angel…”
“Jay, I-“ She whispers out, but the words die on her tongue as his thumb runs across her lower lip.
“Open.” He stated simply, watching her mouth as her lips part and he slips his thumb into her mouth, watching the way her pretty eyes widen in surprise.
“Suck.” And she instantly did as he said, pulling a growl from deep within his chest.
“And oh God, you’re so damn obedient.” She stared up at him, shuffling in place to press her thighs together in hopes of relieving the ache that was spreading through her abdomen and leaking between her legs. Pulling his thumb from her mouth, he’s surprised to hear her whine softly. “Shh, shh.” He gently shushes her while his hand moved to the back of her scalp, tangling his hand in her hair.
“Please, Jay… Please.” She chokes out, their faces a few millimeters apart. Leaning forward, he brushed his lips against hers as he whispers.
“My sweet, little, forbidden apple.” He hummed out, pressing a small kiss to the corner of her lips.
“So tempting in everything you do…” He mumbles, free hand traveling down her side to her hip. “From the way you move, to the way you speak… All the way to when you look at me. Mmm, the way you look up at me so innocently- makes it so hard not to grab your face and kiss you right there.”
He chuckled momentarily when he saw the subbed out expression gracing her face. Her hazy eyes, pupils blown wide, stared up at him with so much softness, swirling with passion and making him take in a sharp breath. Nudging his nose against her cheek, he whispered again, “All mine.”
“Jay…” She whined softly, pulling away to look up at him. Her pretty blue eyes flip between each of his eyes and her lips part to speak, “Why don’t you kiss me then?”
“Because if I kiss you…” He pauses a moment to try and gather his thoughts- the way she’s looking at him makes his brain turn to mush. “If I kiss you, I don’t know if I can stop.”
“Oh yeah?” She hums softly, still staring up at him with wide eyes. When he gives a small nod, she continues, “Who says I would want you to stop?”
Her words made a soft growl leave his lips and the two practically pounced at each other, their lips colliding, much like waves crashing upon shore in the middle of a violent storm. She laced her fingers into his hair and he wrapped his arms around her waist. Before the two even realized they were moving, her back was slammed against the wall, him holding a hand behind her head to carefully press her further against it for support. His tongue clashed with hers, setting a bright, vibrant fire in her chest. While their tongues mingled together, his left hand slid down her side and gripped her thigh, lifting it to rest on his hip.
“Tell me you want it, (Y/N). Tell me who you want.” His voice comes out in a shaky growl against her lips, words barely audible over the heavy thumping of her heart in her chest. Upon a lack of reply, he pulls away just enough to look into her pretty, bright eyes and a soft whine leaves her at the lack of touch. Her lips tried to chase his, but he moved the hand behind her head to carefully wrap around her neck. “Tell me.”
“You, Jay. Please, need you. Please.” Her voice cracks and her chest heaves as she struggles against his hold, desperate for any touch from him. A smirk crosses his lips as he leans down and kisses the side of her head.
“Good job, baby. I’m so proud of you.” His praise pulled the most lewd mewl from her lips and she struggled in his hold once more, hips incidentally grinding against his. “So impatient.” His words are teasing… mocking… But she doesn’t mind- in fact, the way she was nearly dripping down her thighs at his tone made her oh so aware of what he does to her. His lips ghost down the side of her neck and he gives a playful nip to her collarbone, pulling the prettiest little whimper from the back of her throat.
“Please, please, please…” She begs and pulls away just enough to see his eyes- heavy with love and deep with affection.
“Anything for you.” He whispers in return, fingertips sliding carefully up the thigh over his hip. Slipping under her skirt, he slowly worked the pad of his thumb in circles around her clit making her head fall forwards against his chest. “Does that feel good, honey?”
“So- so good.” She whimpered softly, her body quivering with each slow, deliberate stroke of his fingers. Gently he pushed aside her panties and sank just his middle finger into her, making her gasp and grip onto the sleeves of his shirt for dear life. He torturously worked his finger back and forth before adding another. The lewd mewl that left her lips made him grunt out a soft reply as he felt his cock twitch in his pants.
“It’s too much, Jay!” She squeaks out softly as she clenched around his fingers. Her body trembled in his arms as she quickly approached her orgasm.
“Yes you can, Angel. You’re gonna take it and I’m gonna be here to catch you when you fall apart.” He whispered softly in her ear, kissing her temple. Schlatt held her there against the wall, wrapping his free arm around her body and carefully holding her up and against him. His warmth made her feel safe, like a giant blanket protecting her from everything- he helped her just to… Feel.
“I- I’m gonna- I can’t- please don’t st-stop.” She choked out on a sob met somewhere in her voice with a moan.
“That’s it, baby. Let it all out. I know you’ve been neglected, my love. I’m here now. I’ve got you.” He praised her softly as her body twitched and her eyes closed tightly, basking in not just the glow of her orgasm, but the light of his love.
-A/N:- Pt. 2? I know it was a cheesy ending but the romantic in me couldn’t help it 😭
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cripplecharacters · 2 days
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Salutations! I’m in the process of creating a story wherein both characters are missing an eye. One has a prosthetic, but is presently isolating themself in the woods, and wears an eyepatch to protect the eye while alone; the other’s socket is either empty, or they have a glass eye with no actual details (iris, pupil, etc.). I’ve struggled to find references for the latter, and fear it may come off as unrealistic. I understand prosthetic eyes keep the eyelid from collapsing, but aside from that could a person just not wear one? If these options are unrealistic, please let me know. I can supply you with concept art if need be.
The story itself centers around these characters after one of them finds the other by accident. They’re painted as foils—the one hiding out in the cabin adhering to a self-made sense of logic that centers on cycles and confirmation bias, while the only who takes refuge there after running away is deeply paranoid and prone to hallucinations. The first character is missing their left eye; the other their right. I don’t want to make a symbol of their disabilities, but I feel their designs simultaneously stress their opposing perspectives, as well as the fact they paradoxically still manage to see “eye-to-eye.” Their visual impairment is just one of many ways they’re able to connect across the story, as they also bond over their obscure passions and delusions, and respect each other’s warped worldview to such an extent said worldviews start to blur together. In addition to this, the story places an emphasis upon an entity known as the “ocellus,” which is basically the “false eye” you see on moth wings. In my outline so far, it’s the name of a mysterious band which the pair discover in a record collection, and resolve to solve the mystery of (regarding the members, music, etc.) One of the characters also sleeps with an eye mask with the pattern of moth wings and their respective ocelli overlaying their own eyes; their paranoid counterpart also sees eyes in the trees and wood of the cabin.
Absolutely none of this is set in stone; before it is, I just want to know how much of it is fine, which parts “moralize” or make a symbol of a disability, and what is straight-up ableist. Please let me know if you need more details.
Hi!
The prosthetic eye has two main functions: 1) to keep the eye area stay in shape, 2) to protect the socket. Both of these can be achieved by conformers (it's like a big contact, except it goes into the socket and not on the eye) which I talked about here!
A blank prosthetic eye would probably be fine. The process of getting it custom painted is expensive from what I know, and IRL a lot of people will decide on the generic kind rather than a custom. If in your world the generic happens to be a blank, there's no problems I can think of? Potentially, you could explicitly say that it's not how most prosthetic eyes look like (maybe someone else knows a person with an eye prosthetic and they comment that it's unusual?). You mentioned that the character doesn't have it in all the time, so I don't think the trope of "blind character has blank/white/milky eyes" applies here because it's clear that it's a prosthetic.
A person could decide to go bare, but the sensation of blinking could be uncomfortable, and they would need to clean their socket more to get rid of anything that could get inside. Normal saline could be used for that.
I don't think there's an issue in them missing different eyes at all. If you want to make sure it's not giving "Just Magic Symbolism" energy then you could incorporate some boring everyday things that would make sense. If they go somewhere together, they could decide to walk missing eye-to-missing eye, so that they see what's going on the sides rather than in the middle, things like that. It could make it feel more grounded, so to speak.
I don't see any issues with the moth fake-eyes symbolism either, I think it makes sense for the story you're trying to tell.
If you want to be very safe, I would have a character (can be minor, or background) that's also missing eye(s) that's not connected to any of the potential symbolism and is more of an average Joe of Not Having an Eye.
In case you decide to get into that, it would be nice for them to have different causes of why they don't have eyes. It feels like in fiction it's always physical trauma, but there's a whole more that could cause someone to not have an eye;
anophthalmia,
retinoblastoma,
severe eye infection,
elective enucleation (removal) of an already blind/painful eye,
just to give you a few ideas! Giving them "boring" everyday reasons of eye loss will also make it feel less symbolic and more like a regular disability. Think "dramatic swordfight with Huge Meaning" vs "yeah I had cancer in my eye when I was 2".
I hope that this helps; if you have any further details you'd like to ask about feel free to send another ask!
mod Sasza
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httpiastri · 2 days
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sleeping patterns – cn34
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nights filled with endless crying and screaming take a toll on clement's confidence.
genre: fluff, slight comfort/angst ig
pairing: young dad!clem x young mom!reader
warnings: none
author’s note: aaaaaaaaaaa im so soft for clem and ive had such an insane baby fever recently. i miss him sm :(( he would be such a good dad, i just know it
f2/f3 masterlist
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the big, red numbers of your electric clock on the bedside table tell you it's only 3am, a frustrated huff passing through your lips when your eyes slowly open. it takes a while for you to realize what's waking you up – but then it makes so much sense.
the soft cries on the other side of the baby monitor sting like a knife in your heart, and you're fully awake in a matter of seconds. you're just about to push yourself up to a sitting position when the bed dips next to you. after turning around, you find your boyfriend already jumping out of bed. "i'll get her."
"are you sure?" you ask, voice creaky after several hours of not speaking.
clement nods, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. "go back to sleep," he hums, and just like that, he has waddled through the door to your nursery.
the sad truth is that your little one hasn't been progressing with her sleep as much as she should. she had a period of almost sleeping through the nights about a month ago, but then you were hit with the four-month regression. she's almost five months old now, and still, you have issues with sudden wakeups in the middle of the night. as much as you adore every second you get to spend with her, you just wish you could get one full night of sleep sometime.
you know you won't be able to fall asleep until clement is back, you never can. but it's not because you're worried; in fact, there's not a single piece of concern on your mind over it. you know that he has mastered the cradling-cooing-bouncing sequence by now. and sure enough, your daughter's cries grow lighter and lighter, until the only sound that can be heard from the monitor is the ones of soft steps and hushed whispers.
but something feels off. even when the apartment is completely silent, clement doesn't come back to bed.
it's very strange. he fell asleep once in the rocking chair in the nursery, but complained about his back aching for a week afterwards and promised that he would never put himself through that again.
the moonlight peeking through the poorly shut blinds in the nursery casts a shadow across clement's profile when you step inside. despite how dark it is, you can see every little toy on the floor and every detail of the little race car-themed mobile that dangles above the crib clearly. you're way too used to being in here at night.
clement has put your daughter back down into her crib by now, and his hands are wrapped around the railing as he leans over it, looking down at her. he doesn't react when you come closer, and he doesn't move a muscle even when you place your hand on his shoulder. it's easy to understand that something is bothering him.
"what's on your mind?"
he turns to you and lets out a tiny exhale, as if it was a struggle for him to snap himself out of his thoughts. he shakes his head. "it's nothing."
"tell me," you press, giving his shoulder a soft squeeze.
"well, i…" he squeezes his eyes shut. "i'm kind of freaking out. it's been over four months, and… i still haven't adjusted."
"honey," you start, your hand moving to the back of his neck. "where is this coming from? so suddenly?"
"i don't know," he says with a sigh. "you've seen me lately, i've barely been able to fall asleep at all."
he opens his eyes again and gazes down into the crib, eyes softening once they land on the little bundle of love resting so peacefully. he follows the way her chest rises with her breaths, her slightly pouting lips, her tiny fists that are wrapped around her blankie.
"it feels like i'm the only one who's struggling. you're such a natural, you're doing so much better with her, while i just feel… hopeless."
you don't want to interrupt him – clement doesn't often speak about his deeper feelings, so now that he's finally going, you don't wish to stop his flow – but you have to say something. "i think you're doing really well."
"you actually think so?" he asks. though his gaze doesn't move an inch, he can still see you nodding in the corner of his eye. he takes a deep breath. "i've heard people say that new fathers go through things… that it takes time, that it takes patience- and i've tried to be patient, i really have. but…"
he finally looks at you, and his heart breaks slightly at the sight of your uneasy expression, the tension in your eyebrows and your worried eyes. he hates being the one to make you feel like this.
"i just can't get rid of this constant anxiety. it feels like i'm always stressing over something. over you, over her, over everything."
you relate to every word he says. being this young, you feel like you're stumbling through darkness most of the time, not knowing what to do. it's frankly a guessing game, with mostly correct guesses mixed with some bad ones, since neither of you have any prior parenting experiences. even though he may not see it or know it, you're going through the same things as him.
no one had expected for you to get pregnant at this age, and no one – not even the two of you – had expected for you and clement to actually keep the baby. and sometimes, way more often than you'd thought before, your youth and inexperience has been catching up with you.
it's hard, but at least you have each other.
you step closer, draping your arms around his shoulders in an instant. "it's alright," you whisper into the skin of his neck, your nose filling with that scent that's just so him, and you finally relax a bit. his hands find your waist, fingers caressing your sides through the flimsy material of your nightgown. "it's okay to feel like this. i do, too. i think… all new parents must feel it." you give his neck a soft kiss. "but they all get through it, don't they? and so will we."
he stays silent for a while before he nods slowly. "it's all just so… intimidating. i don't want to mess anything up."
"and you won't." you pull away slightly to look into his eyes. "i trust you fully, and-"
you're interrupted mid-sentence, the sound of your daughter stirring in her crib taking clement's attention away from you as he glances towards her. you see his adam's apple bob as she begins to whine, her fists clenching and face scrunching up. "should- can i take her?" he asks tentatively, hands trembling slightly on your sides.
you nod not even a second later, stepping out of his embrace to give him no excuse to hold back. "go for it."
clement had bought every parenting guidebook he could find, and read every website with tips for new parents on the entire internet – and yet, nothing had prepared him for this nervousness that he's experiencing so often. he knew it wouldn't be smooth sailing all the way, but he hadn't expected to feel this uncertain in everything he does. even in the way that he picks his daughter out of her crib, he feels anxious that he's doing something wrong.
however, the second she feels her father's presence, it's far from the story that his anxiety has been making up for him. she lets out one last soft cry before, as if out of habit, nuzzling her face into his skin.
while clement has been struggling this whole time, you can't help but notice that she settles easily into his arms. like she belongs there; like she knows that he'll take care of her.
because he always does.
"see?" you say, letting a finger run along the curve of her cheek as you smile down at her. "that's not so bad, is it? you're doing so well."
considering all the difficulties he's faced, hearing these kind words of appreciation from you gives him comfort in a way that few other feelings can compare to. his gaze is still glued to your daughter, the precious little baby that is his entire world. well, half of his world – the other half is standing right next to him. "i love her, you know," he says softly. "even if she doesn't know it yet, i do. so much."
"i think she knows," you answer, watching as your boyfriend cradles her against his bare chest. he has loved the skin-on-skin contact since day one, and you're sure she does, too; her gentle babbling is always a sure sign that she's completely content. you can't hold back from smiling. "and she loves you just as much."
"sometimes i just can't believe that she's ours. that we made her." his eyes meet yours, nothing but pure love in them. "isn't it strange?"
"strange that we've done something good for once?"
he answers your tease by sticking out his tongue, nudging your shoulder with his, though gently enough to not bother the little one in his arms.
"come on, let's go back to bed," you say, leaning in to press your lips gently to the back of her head. "one night of co-sleeping can't be the entire world, can it?"
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🍬Professor Dumbledore🍬
Believe it or not, this one took a long time to make (whaaaaat, it's only been like twenty days since Madam Pomfrey came online! That's nothing... > note the sarcasm here). I know, it took a while to figure out how I wanted Dumbledore to look. I had a good idea of the 'vibe' I wanted him to portray. It was the costume I struggled with. Drawing long robes and making them look somewhat personal/fashionable isn't the easiest thing to do. He is a very respected man and I wanted him to look responsible. However, he's also described as somewhat mad... so he needed to have something 'cooky' as well. You see my dilemma. I ended up with something of a formula: he wears long robes, like Gandalf, but the robes are very sophisticated. There are patterns, colours, embroidery and jewels. The robes are tied with fancy rope or a belt. Not to mention he wears a pointy hat because he's a stereotypical old wizard :)
Dumbledore has always been a fascinating character to me. Very duplicitous. He tells the truth but withholds it too. He lies, but we’re unsure if it’s for the benefit of someone else or himself. He protects Harry but puts him in danger as well. I’ve never really agreed with the idea of him being a father figure. He’s not parental. Dumbledore is a scholar, first and foremost. He craves knowledge and would sooner watch events unfold if it means gaining wisdom from it.
That’s what makes Dumbledore so complicated, yet fascinating.
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Now, a few final words. Something I DO NOT understand about the Fantastic Beasts films.. WHO decided it was a good idea to put Dumbledore in these gentlemanly muggle clothes when he was teaching at Hogwarts, when we fully know that he was born and raised a WIZARD, teaches at a MAGIC school with ✨MAGICAL ✨MAGIC AND MAGIC. ✨🔮⚡️ It does not explain how he evolved to 'long bearded' 'half-moon glasses ' 'purple robes' Headmaster Dumbledore at a later age🧐 I love most of the costumes from Fantastic Beasts, but this I simply cannot condone 🙄
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AITA for mocking my math teacher?
a few months ago my school got a new math teacher. this would be fine, if not for the fact that one of the first things she did was ask me (14M) if something was going on at home. along with this, i wad also severely depressed.
not only that, she had told multiple kids that ADHD is not real/that its a myth. my friend (14F, we'll call her c) and i both have adhd, along with many other kids in our class. she just very clearly does not know how to teach neurodivergent kids and it pisses me off every day.
i also had a conversation with her that was like
her: youve been slacking... somethings been off these last few weeks...
me: yeah i did stop taking my adhd meds recently
her: nonono it was a few weeks ago
me: yeah i stopped taking them. a few weeks ago.
her: why?:(
me: well they stopped me from eating so
and she just. walked away😭
so today c and i were sat next to eachother, and c goes to get help with a problem we were both struggling on. c comes back and sits down without a word. a few minutes later, i notice the teacher is basically yelling across the room at c and gaslighting her. telling her that she hadnt said anything about the problem being wrong, blah blah blah.
so a bit later into the class, this teacher comes over to our desk to help me, and says something along the lines of "you guys were talking earlier, you need to focus more ill move you so you can focus better if you dont stop talking" ect ect. c speaks up and says "well its hard for me to focus anywhere" and the teacher just. denies her?? so i say "well we have attention deficit hyperactive disorder so its not really something we can control" and she just kind of. disagrees?? it was weird idk anyways she starts walking away and im mocking her in a low voice which i understand wasnt a great choice but also. she was being a bitch. so she turns around and says "see me after class you two..." like damn okay.
c is also an overachiever so she often goes in for help and a few times shes just been denied help and like ??? you literally offered her help why are you now taking this back
this teacher has also given us a test on the ladt day of the quarter on something that we had been learning for maybe a week or so and it was worth 100 points (tests = 90% of our grade, hw = 10%)
i understand that mocking isnt a great thing to do but this woman has hated me from day one so aita
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Fix You - Chapter 16 - Genesis
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Pairing: Frankie “Catfish” Morales x Fem!Reader
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Read on A03
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»»———————►
Chapter Summary: 🤷‍♀️
Word Count: 4K
Rating: Explicit
Chapter Warnings: cussing, graphic violence, mentions of sex. I'm not giving more warnings than that, sorry.
A/N: Hey all. First I want to say I'm sorry. I literally had no time or motivation to write this. I'm gonna be honest, this is a really tough chapter, and it was hard to get in this headspace. Suffering a recent heartbreak, things in this chapter are things I have thought also, and so it was really hard for me to voluntarily want to address that. I also started working in veterinary medicine, i do not have the spare time that I used to. We also recently adopted a puppy who we named Bucky! And if you read my earlier posts, you know that I was SA'd last January. All that to say, sorry I couldn't do this faster.
Also want to wish a happy birthday to @musings-of-a-rose, my beloved, my bestie, and my constant support. This is for you. Sorry it's not a happier chapter....
* If a character is speaking fully in Spanish, I will put “[ ]” around the dialogue. I speak pretty decent Spanish but not good enough for this
Suggested Songs: "Exile" Taylor Swift feat. Bon Iver, "I Love You" Billie Eilish, "Vampire" and "Logical" by Olivia Rodrigo, "The Night We Met" by Lord Huron and Phoebe Bridgers, "Genesis" by Grimes
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You didn’t even flinch at the landing, which was rough, so that’s saying a lot. When the janky cargo door (which looked like at any time during the flight would be ripped right off) opens, you barely even lift your eyes from the floor. You felt heavy and hollow, somewhere suspended in between shock and just not giving a fuck anymore. The only thing you could still fell was the pinching in your heart. It was still broken.
At some point during the journey, the co-pilot had taken pity on you and untied your arms from behind your back and bound them in front of you instead. You hadn’t struggled. There was no point. Where would you go? Jump in the ocean? You weren’t that great of a swimmer and you loved sharks and everything but the open ocean is not where you are supposed to be.
You have no sense of space and time, so you have no actual clue where you are other than not the mainland. You’re dehydrated as fuck, groggy, your vision’s blurry and you’d figured out the sticky moisture on your face was your own blood. 
Because when you had suddenly blacked out it was because they’d hit you, and had absolutely no hesitation doing so. They did not care about you, they did not see you as a human being, they didn’t even bother strapping you into a seat so you had been sliding around the cargo bay the entire flight, bumping into everything. You were in deep danger, any hope that you would have some ransom protection had pretty much disintegrated. You had hoped that the boys wouldn’t come for you at first. Then you had hoped that they would, because if you’re ransom, even if at the very least you’d be alive until then, right? But “alive” doesn’t mean unharmed.
A shadow looms over you and it finally makes you look up, squinting to adjust your eyes to something so close, as well as the brightness of the sun. It feels like it takes you 10 whole minutes to process that you were being spoken to in English.
“Eh!” The man leaning over you snips, and when you simply blink in confusion and don’t answer, he slaps you lightly on both cheeks. You’re stunned enough to finally look at him, his oval face, beady eyes and unique sideburns seeming so familiar to you but quite frankly you wouldn’t trust yourself with recognizing even your dad at the moment, so you push that thought aside.
He kneels down in front of you. “You listen to me. We don’t want you. We want the money. This means if you don’t fucking piss me off, I might be nice and not kill you, you understand? Be a smart little girl, eh?.”
You nod, you probably should be feeling some sort of panic setting in but you don’t. Whatever. Who even cares anymore.
He takes your silence as submission. “Bueno.” He whispers, leaning down and grabbing you by the arm, lifting you until you are back on your feet. He tilts his head and steps to the side, revealing 5 additional men with AKs pointed straight at you. From behind, you feel the sharp tip of another poking your back, urging you forward and down the precarious ramp. The pilots.
You didn’t trust that they wouldn’t hurt you, but you knew you had no other choice. Trying to fight was asking for it, and once you step out of the hold and realize you were in the fucking jungle, there would be no sensical place to go even if you did get away.
You step out of the plane onto a rickety steel ramp that bounces as the footpad of your sandals touches it and shuffle slowly down it. You feel suffocated sandwiched between four men, your hands chafe where they are tied and you have been in the same positions for so long your whole body is sore. Every touch and movement hurt.
You stumble as the ramp ends but one of the men grabs your arm and yanks you so you don’t fall. It wasn’t kindness. It was a way to hurt you that he could get away with. The tiny dirt landing strip is almost canopied completely by the jungle trees, leaving large patches here and there where the plane flew through, not noticeable from far above. It looks like you’re walking to nothing, just a dirt road that ends right into the thick middle of the jungle, but you don’t stop at the edge. You push through.
It’s hot as shit and you felt sweat buildup in every crevice of your body, your thighs are rubbing raw from your asinine decision to wear short shorts to the fair, and you could feel a heat rash growing under your tits that you couldn’t even scratch because your hands are bound.
You walk for forever. You walk until the friction rash on your inner thighs turn to lesions. You haven't drank water in almost 48 hours and it feels like 150 degrees out, with full humidity. You’ve had to stop twice already to vomit from heat exhaustion and you still occasionally gag even though there’s nothing in your stomach to come up anymore. All the years that you did not appeal to insects are making up for it now, they’re all over you and you can’t walk 3 steps without one getting in your eye.  The jungle gets tighter and you can’t breathe because it’s pushing in on you almost as tight as the hands on your shoulders pushing you forward..
You start crying. At least, that is what you tell yourself as you whimper and sob as quietly as you can. You know you’re strong, but this is just beyond reason that any normal person could take. And when you think about how this is probably what life was all the time in Delta for the boys, you cry even harder because you feel guilty, that you have no right to complain.
Finally, after what feels like forever, the tightness of the jungle seems to loosen. More open. You notice some of the trees look more oddly arranged than others. As you get closer you realize they aren’t trees at all, but tents and dilapidated buildings built into the shadows of the trees.  The huge roots and overhanging canopy of the jungle transformed a bustling camp into what looks like a little village. At the entrance, a line of guards in jungle fatigues that were impossible to detect until you got right up to them. You hear someone speak above you, alerting you to a man up in the trees on a platform tucked between the branches. There was another in the tree on the opposite side. He calls to the man with the sideburns, saying something in Spanish you can’t interpret fast enough, but it’s jovial and they laugh, and it makes you feel like you’re going to go mentally insane. 
It’s like it’s not even serious to them. And it’s so serious to you.
You are pushed through the camp quickly, but not quick enough that you don’t see the insane amount of cocaine packages piled up in the makeshift buildings, sheds, and tents toward the back. Men were milling about checking them, moving them and glaring at you as you walked past.
You continue past the main camp, crossing over a bustling creek whose bridge was literally just planks of wood, but you noticed there were tire marks across them so you felt at least safe it could handle a car’s weight. Across the creek, an old stonework manor stood. You can tell at one time it must have been glorious, but the white stone-worked walls were dirty and crumbling in many places, the fountains out front had dried crusty palm fronds and dirt in them and looked like they hadn’t sprayed water since the 1980s.
It was still oddly beautiful. You thought about how this house came to be, what it might have looked like when it had been first built. A beautiful Caribbean sea mansion. A jungle that hadn’t closed in on it yet. Fountains spraying and colorful birds resting on the rooftops. But then you  realize that this place has probably always been used for what it is now. Someone like Carl Lehder probably lived here and ran an entire cartel within this very jungle. Maybe it was the same one, just run by someone else.
There was a shabbily made shack to the left of the manor with padlocks, piles of debris piled next to the door. You assume that’s where you would be taken, but you were instead led up the stairs to the manor proper. And as your eyes focus in on the ground while you were being guided to the mansion instead, you realize the heap of matter by the shack that you thought was some dying plantation was actually a crumpled human body. A boy looking not much older than 17, shot execution style in the head and left to rot.
Then smell hits you, your knees buckle and you vomit on the stonework stairs, a scream of shock and realization pierces the jungle, making the nearby tropical birds explode from the treetops. When the sicarios pick you up and carry you through the mansion door, you’re still screaming.
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Eventually whoever was carrying you became fed up, and simply dropped you at the bottom of the stairs and dragged you up backwards by the armpits instead. You didn’t even feel the step edges hitting the small of your back all the way up, but you would later. 
You were tossed stricken and shivering on a disgusting, top-sheeted mattress on the floor in the corner of a room, your feet still bound together and your rope-bound hands looped through a radiator that was long enough only for you to lie down or shuffle over to a bucket for your business. Everything stank and you still had vomit on your chin so you curled up in a ball and slammed your eyes closed, hoping that in time the voices and smells and fear would give way to just simple numbness. You didn’t hear a female voice speaking to you for several seconds.
Your eyes snap open, skin pulled taut from dried unwiped tears,and you jolt upright to look in the direction of the voice. A woman who wasn’t even tied up was propped up against the adjoining wall, and as you take in her condition you could understand why they hadn’t even bothered. She wouldn’t have been able to run.
Her legs look..wrong, splaying at angles that shouldn’t be possible. They look like they could be broken, but you can’t tell for sure because she was wearing jeans that cover up most of her skin. The jeans were ripped in some places and stained with dark blood spots, the color turning brighter wherever her skin shows through the tears in the fabric. She’s missing several fingers on her left hand that had been burnt at the ends to cauterize, and her face was black and blue, swollen and smeared with more blood that seemed to be coming from her scalp somewhere. Her lips are pale and cracking and her eyes are glazed over and barely open. When she speaks, she already sounds like she is dead. 
She swallows and winces slightly in pain, then licks her cracked pale lips.“Is…my…her–my brother. Did you see him? Out there?” 
Your face scrunches in confusion, which actually hurts a little and you’re not sure from what specifically. Perhaps you look just as bad as the other girl. “Your–I—I don’t understand.”
She’s too exhausted to even be annoyed with you. “My brother. They took him from me days ago. They do not talk to me anymore. They don’t—need me anymore.” A single tear falls down her swollen cheek and you suddenly feel so much connection with this woman and how  incredibly fucking strong she is. Her eyes roll over to you, meeting yours for the first time. There are burst blood vessels in them. 
“I think that they killed him.”
Your lips part and you utter a shuddering breath as you connect the dots. There’s no point in sugar-coating it. You nod slowly. “I think so. But it’s not…recent.” You look away as her eyes slowly close, the additional tears she was holding back finally spilling over and cascading down her cheeks. 
“Bueno.” She says. “Then at least he is not suffering like me.” 
You both fall quiet and you look over her again. Her pants aren’t completely done up and her t shirt is ripped at the neckline, exposing a gashed shoulder. Almost like…
You start crying again, and you feel even worse about it this time because you have in front of you a woman who has been through much worse and is somehow NOT crying. You curl tighter into yourself to try and hide. 
But she simply asks. “Who are you?”
You swallow, raising your head up off your arms, quickly wiping the access tears off on your sleeve. It’s incredible how adrenaline and fear can sometimes make you the most clear-headed you’ve ever been. Your thoughts are swirling but you knew one thing for damn sure, if they didn’t know your name yet, you weren’t going to say it now. 
If I look forward I am lost. Focus on right now. Nothing else. It’s my best chance.
You know enough about trauma that compartmentalizing this moment is your best chance. You can’t think what will happen if you don’t escape, if you aren’t found, if they never come for you. You need to stay focused. You need to keep hope alive. You need to stay coherent, because if a chance pops up, you need to be able to think quickly.
“I’m no one.” You mumble. “Just happened to be dating the wrong person.”
She sniffs and looks away, but it’s muffled because her nose sounds congested. You don’t miss her tone though. “Mmmm. His new one then.”
You blink. “What?”
Her glazed over, discolored eyes snap back to yours. “Pope.” She spits. “Your man. Santia—”
“NO!” You cut her off with a shout, you know there is a guy who is in the area and you still don’t know how much these men do or do not know. “Don’t. Don’t give them names if they don’t already know it.”
“I don’t give a shit about Agent Garcia, or his friends, or anyone else, it’s their fault I am here and it’s their fault my brother is dead and..” She finally, finally starts to cry. “I told him I didn’t want to do it. They said they would let us go if we gave them what they wanted.”
“It was you.” You exhale with a shuddering breath. “They found us cause of you. You told them.” You shake your head, and for some reason you feel betrayed by this woman even though you’ve never met her.  “How could you?” 
“Because all I care about is my brother, do you understand?! I wish I’d never met him, Garcia, we would have just snuck away and no one would never seen us, but no, instead we listened to him and helped them steal from fucking Lorea, and now they found us and I knew they would, and YES, I gave them EVERYTHING because they said they’d let us go so long as they found you and–”
“Eh!” A voice trails in with a watchman you knew was hanging out somewhere in the hallway beyond. He slips through the doorway, a smaller man you were not expecting from that voice, and leans against the deteriorating door frame. He crosses his arms and his legs and it makes the handgun on his hip jut out prominently from his skinny hips. “No talking to each other.” His voice is silky and the words all slide together so it sounds like ‘no talkintoeeachother.’
You shrink back into the dirty wall behind you as your associate spits a bloody phlegm ball in the man’s direction. “FUCK you!” She snarls, a tirade of cuss words in Spanish flying from her lips. 
A loud pop almost bursts your eardrums and your heart and you exclaim in terror as your associate is shot point blank in the head, her back slumping against the wall and her head hitting with a bang, pieces of blood and brain tissue spraying over the back wall with pieces flying in your direction.  
The man remains completely motionless with his arms still raised before huffing a laugh to himself, putting the gun back on his hip, and looking at you with the such an unaffected gaze it leaves you feeling dizzy and you scream and scream and scream yourself hoarse, crumpling onto your mattress in a terrified heap, arms over your head, sobbing hysterically.
A gentle but firm palm wraps around your forearm, yanking you back up to a seated position. You look away, but the man’s other hand takes you gently by the jaw and makes you look at him. And just behind him, the woman slumped in a pool of blood and brain matter. You try to wriggle out of his grip but he tightens ever so slightly, and you can’t help but notice how different it is when Frankie would grab you like that versus this man. Frankie held you the same, sometimes harder, but you had trusted his domination and his care of you and because of that, it made it arousing. That same motion with this man has you more scared than you ever have been in your life. 
“Bebita.” He coos, thumb lightly caressing your jaw. He wipes at a small speck of blood you don’t know is even there. You can feel yourself shaking and breathing so fast you can see his half waxed back tousled locks that hang past his temples are blowing in its breeze. You can’t answer him. “Look at me.”
You do. His eyes are a dark, almost black chocolate brown, shape mismatched, a scruffy beard and goatee and thin lips. In another world you would find him devastatingly attractive and the fact that you do makes you feel absolutely violated and disgusted with yourself. 
“Do not cry.” He continues. “You have no reason to if you behave, si? You be good and you listen and I will keep you safe you understand? Well, at least for now.” He shifts closer to you, you can smell his breath. It smells like orange and cloves. “There are a lot of men here Bebita. I am sure you understand what this means, si? Answer me.”
“Yes.” A final fat tear spills from one of your eyes, and it stings as it mixes with your sweat and the raw skin around your eyes. 
He juts his head in the other woman’s direction. “This one, she fight the whole time. I like a easy job. Make my job easy, I make sure you always deal with me. Do not make me call in the other guys, they are not as nice. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” He releases your chin and you scoot back quickly as he saunters over to the other woman’s bloody body, grabs it by the arm, and casually drags her as dismissively as possible out the door and out of your sight, leaving a bloody trail behind.
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At first you just sit there in a slump staring at the opposite wall,, you don’t know for how long. Probably hours. Maybe days. The man, whose name you figured out from when he spoke to someone else in the hall, is Angel. Sometimes he would sit up and watch you, as if figuring you out, your body and the way you shift and switch positions when you are uncomfortable, what it looked like when you were crying and trying to keep quiet and unnoticed. But most of the time he ignored you. Occasionally others would come into the room and either speak to him or approach you, but upon noticing Angel watching them they would hiss or spit a curse and slink off.
The room reminded you of those old houses from the 70s that had those drafty unfinished basements that were simply concrete floors, painted stucco or white brick. To the sicarios, it served as an overflow area, there was a rotting desk along the side wall with a metal folding chair and piles of scattered papers and random household tools on them. Against the opposite side wall was a pretty nice tv, considering, which was always playing soccer. Angel seemed to make that his home base, his lithe frame sprawled across a grandma-fabric sofa, head resting on one of the puffy arm rests. He binge-smoked cigarettes and his right hand was always stretched over his head resting against his forehead in the direction of to an end table with an massive overflowing porcelain ashtray on it. You didn’t used to mind the smell of cigarettes too much but now it makes you feel sick.
You’re ashamed of how little you actually think about your current situation and like the hopeless romantic idiot you are, mostly all you can think about is Frankie. The things he said–you knew he said mean things when he was mad, or things he didn’t mean, but isn’t there always some truth to things that are said in the heat of the moment? That was enough for you to silently spiral. You thought about every memory you had of him and how it could be viewed through the lens that Frankie just wanted to fuck you. Your self confidence was low enough it was believable, and your mind races through every instance of an older man being in a relationship with someone much younger and how of course it was predatory, and how could you not see it, that you didn’t have anything in common? It’s a tale as old as time. He just wanted to fuck you, he wanted to fuck you and dominate you, his dark desires seducing you into feeling so wanted you can’t believe you thought he loved you and didn’t see right through it. 
And his friends, well, they were all in on it weren’t they, because why would they want to hang out with someone like you either? Why would men such as that actually want to be friends with you when you have never experienced half of what they have.
Fuck him. Fuck him and his lying ass, he was a fucking loser addict and you’re pissed at yourself for even considering him. Like how lonely were you?? To choose an old man with a kid who served in an institution that represented everything you hated about this country? To be so easily blinded by pretty words and love bombs to immediately take your clothes off. Because how, if he actually loved you or even like you, could he possibly have lied about something so big?! Or bought you something nice with all that fucking drug money he stole. Not that you’d want it or expected it, but why wouldn’t you want to treat someone you love as much as he claimed to? 
How could he sit there and make up what happened to Tom like that, when you were being so coddling and trying to be a caring ear. And Benny…Pope...if they were your friends they should have told you, that’s what real friends do…
But they weren’t your friends. They were never your friends. 
And if you went the other way, and considered that it was all true, that he did love you, that they were all your friends, and that he lied to you and threw stones to hurt you and push you away, how was that any better? You couldn't even think about a future not being with him, but obviously he could. He could watch you cry and question him and not even look at you, completely ignore you, then not even think about you again. No texts, no calls. No “I’m sorry, please come back.” Silence. 
How could it be so easy for him? How can he just go about his life like you never happened? Why did you still care?
Why did you still want him? 
Why did you still love him so so much. Part of you wishes they’d get on with it and just kill you. At least then you wouldn’t have to feel this excruciating pain. You wouldn’t have to see him show up to rescue you because he has to, to have to see his fucking face and every line, crinkle, scar, the bald patch in his beard and the tousled little curls that pop out of his hat…only for him to save you and then leave again, or die and then you have the guilt of killing a man who no longer loved you.
Yea. You think you’d rather die.
You feel like you’re going to throw up again. You’d let him force his cock in your mouth as far as it could go, let him tie you up and fuck you hard enough to leave bruises you had thought of as a badge of honor. You’d let him cum on your face. You’d let him fucking cum inside you! He’d gaslit you so you actually wanted him to tie you up with zip ties—-
Your heart almost stops. You can picture how his face looked exactly when he said it.
Sometimes rope can give over time.
That’s why we always used zip ties.
You look down at your bound hands.
They’re bound with rope.
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sexygaywerewolf · 2 days
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my new Ninjago OC!
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more information ↓
I haven't come up with a name for him yet bc I suck at those but I've got a backstory
- He was outcast by his species before the merge because of a reason I haven't fully flushed out yet (thinking of making it so that he can't do any shapeshifting at all and making it an entire allegory), but he deals with a lot of feelings of inadequacy because of this and he thinks he's failed as an Oni
- he was outcast before March of the Oni and was lost between realms trying to find a way back home to the first realm without the power of the darkness to guide him. essentially the realm crystal is the EASIEST way to travel realms but it isn't the only way, and he spent a lot of years alone
-When the merge happens he's forced to live in a world he doesn't understand at all and a lot of people during this time are struggling to figure things out. He manages to find a job at Chen's Noodle House and starts to enjoy the life as someone who serves food so eventually he leaves with enough money saved up and opens up his own restaurant
- I like the idea of someone gaining weight when they're happy bc he used to be really emaciated and could barely eat even 3 times a week due to how hard it was to survive but now he's got a healthy relationship with food and his body and he's generally a pretty sound guy and pretty mature considering things. It doesn't look like he's fat in the image but from experience an apron will hide a lot of that lol
- He does a lot of introspection and his outlook on life is that "it's complicated and messy but at least it's life," and he usually looks at things from a realistic perspective while hoping for the best.
-He still gets irrationally angry at a lot of things though and often he'll find himself taking it out on inanimate objects and then he'll feel bad about it afterwards. He doesn't do it a whole lot in front of people, especially customers, but if he's comfortable around you you'll see him swearing and breaking things (usually with his claws on accident) a lot more
- Meets Lloyd a few weeks after the merge when he just started his job at Chen's and initially Lloyd is weary at first because yk he's an Oni and Lloyd had subconsciously associated Oni with bad and everything wrong in his life, but [name I haven't come up with yet] is essential to something Lloyd is trying to figure out so they need to interact and Lloyd figures out through sheer power of being exposed to something that HEY you dumb idiot your ancestry isn't evil or bad
- He had severe issues for awhile with meeting people's expectations and he constantly ran himself ragged trying to keep himself in multiple places at once. He felt like he had to depend on only himself for a while because of the fact he let down his Oni tribe and because of the fact he lived so long in isolation away from others. When he's hired by Skylor he burns himself out within the first week because he doesn't take a break except to go home and sleep.
- Y y y es this is meant to be an OC shipped with Lloyd but they're both demisexual here bc I will always make my favs be on the ace spectrum no matter what
-Hes 21 when the merge happens and by the events of s1 he's 27 (2 years older than Lloyd). He was outcast by the Oni when he was 15 years old (around the events of season 1)
-fun fact, Oni still have pupils in my hc you just can't see them very well. they're kind of like the changelings from mlp where they do have pupils once you look closely but they blend in so well with their irises that you can hardly see them. most Oni eye colors are red, purple, or blue. some are occasionally orange, yellow, and pink. [name I haven't come up with yet] has purple eyes
- he has so much fur/hair (think kind of like mohair on a goat) that he has to stuff a lot of it in his shirt and then use pins to hold it in place and he spends like 30 minutes each day just combing it
- he works out every other day to help clear his mind and to calm himself down but Oni are naturally pretty big anyways and really strong
- despite the fact he knows how to cook he has the worst appetite known to man and will not hesitate to eat the nastiest things ever. I like to think that anytime Lloyd gets offered gross food (as he's somehow done a lot in the show) he pretends to "steal" it but he does genuinely enjoy every single food he comes across and it's not just something that comes from his life of being outcast it also comes from his Oni biology. Though, he seems to be a lot more inclined to eat certain things even for an Oni
if it's not poison, it's food!
- has abnormally large ears for most Oni and he can hear slightly better than most people. it's also another reason why he stretch himself too thin while working when he first started because he believed everything he heard needed his attention and he was constantly trying to get to multiple places and do many tasks all at once
okay now imma go to bed hehe this was actually really fun
-has a better work/life balance in the future at the very least lol so dw
-has digitigrade feet! they're not very exposed bc he wears baggy pants all the time but if you look down you'll see he's never wearing any shoes and his paws are just out
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atopvisenyashill · 1 day
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Catelyn's resentment at always having to adhere to men is not talked about enough in my opinion. When she bitterly thinks that she always did her duty. When she thinks about having to wait for the men in her life. When she snaps that Robb did not her consider his sisters important enough. When she laments that no one sings songs of the battles of women aka childbirth and children.... Yes she conforms because she is realistic and pragmatic and dutiful and she wants to survive and be happy enough and she wants the same for her daughters.
YES EXACTLY. I think it’s like. For so long she conformed because it was realistic pragmatic dutiful, because being a perfect lady and heir made things easier on her parents, and she loved her parents, she wanted them to he proud, and it turned out she was GOOD at so many of the things they asked of her, and it gave her the ability to be in charge of herself and her life for so long, and when minisa died, she could help lift the burden off her father’s shoulders, and it gave her the ability to grow and speak her mind, and being dutiful brought her ned, who was so much more than she ever thought she’d get, and it brought her five amazing children, and a home she loves and can be free in - like jon snow thing does suck but compare this situation to like upwards of 90% of the marriages & you know what it’s a fucking dream and Catelyn knows this, she is aware things can always be worse, it’s why she understands immediately why jon & lysa were doomed from the start, she understands this system and how it works, and it’s worked so well for her she can ignore the ways it has hurt her.
And then it just. Completely fails her. She’s tricked by Lysa and Petyr, the two people she’d least expect it from that she never even entertains the idea, Ned is murdered, Sansa is a hostage, Arya is just gone, Bran has been nearly murdered twice, and she’s in her childhood home and Hoster is dying and Edmure is annoying and Blackfish is off fighting again and she’s reliving the worst days of her life but this time the person waging war isn’t a husband she doesn’t know, it’s her own son and she just can’t stop thinking about how she’s done everything right, she’s played by the rules her whole life, she upheld the social contract because it promised she’d have control over her life, and then the whole thing just completely fails because joffrey has a tantrum after petyr whispered in his ear, AGAIN, just another mad king with power hungry advisors, and she’s stuck in this room AGAIN-
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AND SHE DOES.
like, that’s what happens, is she spends her whole life doing what she’s supposed to and then it crumbles down around her and she just figures, fuck it, if following the rules can’t do the one (1) most important thing it has to do which is keep my family alive than i’m not following shit anymore. she starts to just do what she thinks is best. starts to snap back. starts to just speak without being asked. like, she’s cracking, she’s breaking up, YEAH she’s still dutiful, but what is she being dutiful TOWARDS? is she doing what robb says? what edmure says? NO, she’s making her OWN DECISIONS she’s trying. and then people will see her become a literal undead spirit of rage and revenge and be like “she’s so dutiful and never struggles or chafes against the patriarchy” when she struggled and screamed so much at the ending she was clawing her own face to ribbons!!
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