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#yo somebody talked to me
redbootsindoriath · 10 months
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Dungalef sure is a master of disguise 🤣💖
Apparently so! The only alternative is that Sauron is just kinda dumb.
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tasmanianstripes · 2 years
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Remember when the ace discourse was widespread and people were somehow arguing that more LGBT+ friendly spaces were bad because "the evil asexies are trying to say that gay clubs are sexual :("? Remember when people tried to say homosexual was a slur because they didn't like the Split Attraction Model? Or when they got pissed because not every country in the world uses the acronym LGBT+? Remember them claiming that " spectrum" was a word only autistic people could use to describe themselves? Not even the phrase "being on the spectrum", but the word "spectrum" itself?
Aphobes would just come up with the wildest, most deranged takes you've ever heard and just say it with their whole chests. And we somehow tried to seriously argue with these people, as if it was ever possible.
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arthur-r · 6 months
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how to not text somebody when you can’t talk but also. Not just not text somebody
i ran out of tags at the end i just content warning not feeling well not speaking well and also stressed out vent content warning but i will fine in the morning if somebody wants to not listen everything is okay im just having trouble and im not speaking well
for ending is just i don’t know i just am stressed out i want to know how to do it right and not being other people have to fix everything for me isn’t fair. and i just want to feel normal good not have complicated on top of everything. and i want to anpolkgize not while being making it worse from not speaking good i don’t know what to do. i hope everybody is doing okay bottom tags is just same but not for from the beginning. i hope everyone is doing well and please be just stay away if makes you not feel safe im not good at when somebody doesn’t say good and it’s not anybody’s fault. i just dont know where for who to tell to i just hope for everyone is okay and sorry for bothering
#i am not feeling well i had to my friend called an Uber and stuff for going home#and then we hungout stayed in my dorm for a little and then i fell asleep when he was leaving#and I want to say hey thanks for everywhere going coming home with me and finding walking me home and stuff#but for when i try to text that it doesn’t make sense and i don’t wa t to. be im tired of being not making sense#tired of texting people making them confused or like im not doing so it right#but i need to say something for thank you or goodbye case i wasn’t good before#and i was being so. im sorry was being so boring i was just not being good or interesting#i was distracted for being not feeling well and i want to explain but i don’t want to. be made it worse#and i really likethis guy and#don’t want to be distrsctimg weird and okay my room mate is yo#home now. so that is more stuff interesting now i know i can’t call on the phone#which is probably good but im just i can’t type article#articulate with typing im not i just don’t know how to talk#i know how to talk for having speaking real life#real life speaking. but it’s also weird for calling somebody isn’t normal you don’t call somebody#so#im texting on herrbjnstead of for texting#somebody so im sorry actually but. people who understand is different from if somebody doesn’t understand#but also im sorry and ask to tag and i know i would be so much upset if i saw and im not trying to hurt somebody#i just need advice for being talking to somebody but i promise im fine and just not feeling well in normal way it’s not special bad#anyways i hope everybody is doing okay and for if somebody knows and i just man i am not feeling well#heart isn’t too bad is 110 or 140 between for the long time staying between. but right now in just 110 while im lying down#I don’t know i think i should go back to sleep but my friend i was gonna talk to friend different friend today#for calling watching tv i might have slept past though and im not feeling well#but we needed for our for seeing each other we haven’t seen each other we were going to have watch tv#but im not feeling well i don’t like being sick i don’t like not being able to i just did walking today i did too far i dont like being sick#and it’s not fair for not doing anything i didn’t do anything shouldn’t count shouldn’t make me sick#i didn’t mean to be too much not being it’s not fair where im sick and turns so everything is cause of im sick it’s not fair i don’t want to#make it everything be it’s when im sick it’s not fair nobody can think about their self any more it’s not fair i didn’t mean to#and he wasn’t mad but it’s nkt j don’t want to be turned everything fkr where j just need help k want to be somebody on my own
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penisliker-moved · 1 year
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but like they literally. ok so betty ws like "vacuum up front whilei check your rooms" do im like oh ok like the rug jn the entrance zone. bc rheres like the double sliding doors ykwim. so im getting the vacuum and rhen Fucking stacy is like Make sure you get everything all the floors and carpets and gestured at the entire lobby. and im like ... ok? but she put so much emphasis on Everything so i go to like. the halls and start vacuuming the carpet right. and she starts bitching like Just over here 🙄 and its like GIRL YOU FUCKING SAID EVERYTHING !!! and then im fugking doing it and her and betty repeatedly say "MAKE SURE YOU GET THE CARPETS!!!!" like yeah dumbfucks of course im gonna get the fucking carpets im goddamn vacuuming. yr making me vacuum hardwood acting like my first instinct wouldnt be to vacuum the carpets. and then at on3 point i unplugged the vacuum bc th cord ws too short and Clearly started walking to the other side of the room where theres another outlet to plug it in and stacy whos just sitting on her ass in the cafeteria goes "YOU DIDNT GET THE CARPET 😡" LIJE . GIRL I COULDNT FUCKING GET TO THE CARPET I AM CLEARLY GETTING TO THE FUCKING CARPET. and then i finally fucking fjnish it and some dickhead fucking guest goes You missed a spot teehee thinking hes so funny. and i just ignored him bc shut the fuck up you annoying dick and stacy goes Did you miss a spot 🤔 like . im going to snap one of these days
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wewindondowntheroad · 2 years
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my life right now is a revolving nightmare wheel of who's going to fix the damages to my house
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cruel-summerxy · 7 days
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I’ve been going to intern at a dentist as a DA all week. Today was the longest day I was in there and as soon as I got out I got bad news. The crazy part is that my sisters had to let me know before my parents bc they know I break down crying and my parents always feel bad for me.
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luv4berry · 9 months
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Can you pls make one abt miles and yn getting into a very heated argument and she slaps him for saying smth outrageous and then she leaves and he climbs into her window after a few hours and tries to work it out with her
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anything for you.
earth 42!miles morales x fem!reader
SUMMARY: you go over to miles practically drenched in another man's cologne, and he jumps to conclusions all too quickly.
GENRE: fluff to angst to fluff.
WARNINGS: bickering/arguing, physical contact made by reader, jealous miles, cursing, kissing/making out, suggestive (?) miles calling women females (this needs a trigger warning in itself), CORNYYY
AUTHORS NOTE: yo why this tumblr shit lowkey fun? + this is my first request agagaa thank you!! omg and i hit 200?? and my eyes only is almost at 2k notes wtf r y’all onnnn?? anyways thank you for requesting! i didn’t make miles say anything too outrageous just so he could redeem himself later on, hope you like it!
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“you look so good,” your boyfriend says for what seems like the 100th time today, his large hands immediately dropping to your bare waist, fidgeting with your waist beads as he leans in to mold your lips, a smile gracing his face when you return his affection.
“all mine.” he mutters as he intensifies the kiss, his hands approaching the waist band of his boxers that you’ve claimed as your own. when he lifts your feet off the ground, the heels of your feet lock around his back, a giggle escaping your lips when he lays you down on his bed. you pull away from him, laying the palms of your hands on his chest to keep him away when he pursues your lips once more.
“miles, we can’t make out all day.” you giggle, running your manicured fingers down his chest.
“says who?” he buries his head in the crevice between your neck and shoulder, leaving wet kisses along the space when he suddenly pauses.
he removes his head from the crevice, sitting up to which you follow.
“baby,” you hum in acknowledgement, “where’d you go today?” he questions you, a hint of an indistinguishable emotion in his voice.
“just here, why?” you question him, running your nails up and down his neck. a look of confusion immediately sweeps over your features when he calmly removes your hand from his body.
“cause you smell like somebody been rubbing all up on you.” he looks you up and down, leaning in to now smell your clothes, hair, neck, anything within the perimeter really.
he pulls back, “who were you with?” his expression solidified.
“nobody, i swear i don’t know why i smell.” you reason with him, genuinely confused as well.
“oh? so the smell just magically took over your hair and your clothes?”
he completely gets up from his position next to you, hovering over you. “y/n, i know im not tripping, who the hell was rubbing up on you and why’s the smell so strong? that’s what we doin’ now? and then you got the audacity to bring your ass over to my house, lay in my bed, and wear my clothes.”
“what are you implying?” you scowl at him, now rising to your own feet.
“im implying that you forreal out here fucking on other dudes when you got a whole ass boyfriend.”
the next few moments go by swiftly and mindlessly, but the scorching sensation left in the palm of your left hand enables you to process what just happened almost immediately; you slapped him. though, not an ounce of regret filled your tank of emotions, adrenaline being the only identifiable one.
“i don’t know who the hell you’re talking to but it can’t be me, how dare you?” you glare at him, the imprint of your palm already making its mark on his face, the surrounding skin blemishing. “when have i ever done something like that to you?”
“today, apparently.” he mumbles under his breath, caressing the skin of his cheek to soothe the discomfort.
you look at him like he’s just grown 3 heads before silently walking over to the corner of his room, pulling his graphic tee over your shoulders. you immediately lunge it at him, same with his boxers, bracelets, his necklace, anything of his that is currently making contact with you. you zip up your navy blue hoodie, slipping your sweatpants over your bare legs.
you bring your tote bag over your shoulder, making your way towards his window which he currently guards, glaring at you from where you stand.
“miles, get the hell out my way before i pop you in your mouth next.”
“i want his name and address, you not going anywhere till i get an answer.”
you flail your arms in his face, “are you deaf or just stupid? there is no “him” because the only person i been rubbing up on is you!”
“baby, i don’t smell like no cheap ass cologne.”
“don’t call me that, move!” you raise your voice, stepping up to him.
“what’s his name?”
“you’re crazy.” you scoff, instead bolting for the front door. you’re mindful of mama rio cooking in the kitchen, slipping past quietly as to not raise any suspicion. though, you do bid her a quiet farewell, yet even when you slip out the front door with a smile on your face she knows something isn’t right by the way miles isn’t trailing behind you.
“miles, qué pasó?” she calls out from the kitchen, wiping her hands down her apron and subtly knocking on her sons door before entering.
“it’s nothing.” he calls back, digging his cheek into his pillow to prevent his mother from spotting the blossoming blemish. he didn’t want to explain how he got you so worked up that you slapped him to his mother, or anyone for that matter.
“it’s nothing? invite her over for dinner tonight.” rio arches her brow, taking a seat next to her son on the bed.
“we aren’t on good terms right now.” he sighs out, rubbing his hands over his eyes.
“even more of a reason to invite her over, right?” rio says, making her way out of his bedroom before miles could come up with a rebuttal.
he lazily grabs his phone when it pings, though when he realizes the message is from you, he throws it on the floor until the phone pings with a second message. he groans loudly swiping open your messages.
one attachment
next time don’t make stupid assumptions you dick
the photo captioned was of a half empty cologne bottle you had probably found somewhere in your home, miles heart immediately dropping to his stomach.
okay, maybe he fucked up a teensy tiny bit.
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when you got home, you racked your brain for a possible explanation as to why you smelled like anything other than your boyfriend. you were stumped till your brother had walked past you, the aroma that had gotten miles so worked up earlier clouding your senses immediately.
you lay on the pad of your tummy on your king sized bed, your irritable mood causing a burning sensation to spread throughout your body. though it may not be displayed through your face, you were absolutely livid. after all you’ve done for him, this is what you got in return, his unprecedented allegations.
sure it was reasonable to be suspicious, but to outright accuse you? you’ve never given him any reason not to trust you, reassuring him whenever he needed it. had your words not been enough? what about your gestures? what about the times you’d cuddle up with him in bed, sleepily muttering words like “im yours,” or “i belong to you, miles.” had that not been enough?
your jittering thoughts are interrupted by a newfound presence in the corner of your room, the peripherals of your eye capturing those twin braids that you adore so much.
“nuh uh, get the hell up outta here.” you sit up, pointing back towards the window.
“deadass?” he raises both brows, staring at you dead in the eyes.
“deadass.” you return the gesture.
“nah.” he climbs into bed with you, settling his arm over your waist.
“im being serious miles, get out. don’t touch me either.” you pick up his arm as if it’s diseased, laying it over his stomach.
“you don’t like it when i touch on you?” he says in a sultry voice, and you roll your eyes.
“ma, listen to me,” he grabs your chin meeting you at eye level, your brows still furrowed out of anger. when your eyes meet his, any foreign sense of anger evaporates from your system, turning to putty in his hands, no matter how much you tried to fight it.
“you’re so pretty baby,” he kisses your downturned lips once.
“why you look so mad?” he ignorantly questions you, kissing your lips once more.
“baby smile for me?” he squishes your cheeks, yet he’s still met with silence till you finally part your lips.
“this isn’t helping your case by the way.” you roll your eyes at his obvious attempts to bribe you.
“alright, what if i came to you smelling like some other female? you wouldn’t like that huh?” he attempts to reason with you.
“i came to you smelling like my brother? and even then if you came to me smelling like some girl i would conduct a thorough investigation first.” you side eye him.
“how was i supposed to know it was your brother? i didn’t even know he was back.”
“he got back this morning, i gave him a hug and he must’ve rubbed off on me.”
“you didn’t tell me all that. so what i gotta do for you to believe im sorry, hm?” he climbs on top of you, following your darting eyes with his own.
“buy me a pandora bracelet.” you joke.
he perks up, “on god? baby i buy you jordans every other day, the hell is a bracelet?”
“i mean i was joking but you serious?”
“you didn’t know that i’d do anything for you?”
“you’re corny boooo, leave me alone.” you push his head away from yours, your facade breaking when a smile plays at your lips.
“y/n?”
“hm?”
“why do you hit so hard?”
“what do you mean?” you ask him, your outburst from earlier had completely left your mind. he turns to the side, and your eyes widen as they lay upon the imprint of your hand slowly fading,
“oh shit,” you wince, inspecting the damage of your earlier actions.
you throw the blanket off your legs, sitting on your knees to inspect further. you silently grab his hand, heading towards your bathroom as you slowly feel guilt begin to stir inside you.
“stay here.” he watches as you disappear into the hallway, coming back with a frozen pack of peas. you hold it up to his cheek for him, fiddling with the ends of his braids as you repeatedly check for signs of the bruising going away.
“im sorry miles, i shouldn’t have hit you.”
he hums in acknowledgment of your apology, parting his lips to speak. “it’s okay, i like them aggressive.”
a smile threatens your lips, your hand going up to cover your mouth to keep your false facade up.
“nah why you keep smiling?” he grabs your wrist, pulling your hand down to stare at you intently.
“stop that.” you attempt to straighten out your face.
it’s silent for the next few moments as you adjust the frozen peas seeing that the bruise had almost completely faded.
“y/n, you know im being forreal when i say i’d do anything for you, right?”
“yeah, i know.”
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love, berry.
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a homeless man hit on me yesterday and called me pretty and ive been using it as an excuse to text everyone i know abt the situation and following up with a “u WISH u had game like me😎”
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forlix · 3 months
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‧ ❆ ˚ 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐲 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝・h.j.
— stars flare brightest in the absence of light, and you see his clearer than day.
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words・6.4k
pairing・han jisung x female reader
genres・college!au, friends with benefits to lovers, snowed in trope, smut, MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS THAT INTERACT WILL BE BLOCKED, angst, ANGST, you have been warned, hurt/comfort, i can't write normal fluff to save my life, happy ending!!!, semi-slow burn
warnings・depictions of insomnia, recurring nightmares, graphic violence, character death (in the nightmare), fears of abandonment and falling in love, alcohol consumption, humans helping each other heal. smut warnings under the cut
playlist・stay - acoustic by jonah baker・all of me by big gigantic・babydoll (speed) by ari abdul・oasis by exo・volcano by han
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a/n・hi, here's my second installment of winter falls. writing this was immensely challenging and twice as meaningful, so feedback would be greatly appreciated. thank you to my may for being so fucking instrumental in piecing together this rollercoaster—this one is for you, i love you. thanks to my sahar for everything, always and forever. and thanks to all of you for being here. happy new year ♡
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smut warnings・spitplay, unprotected piv, please practice safe sex!!!, car sex, dirty talk, jisung's dick game is kinda crazy, squirting, lots of aftercare
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Every time Jisung closes his eyes, he sees somebody’s back.
It’s leaving. Traipsing somewhere he can’t follow. He tries to chase it—he always does, he never learns—but the premise doesn’t so much as surface before the ghosts circling around his ankles go for his throat instead. They snare him by the shoulders, force him to his knees, slam his forehead into the permafrost hard enough to break bone. They make sure the next time he tries to move will be the last.
So he remains, keeled over in the cold, until tearwater clings to his lower lashes in small icicles. Until bloodstained snow coats his lips like the manifestation of a curse. Until the back has disappeared.
Who does it belong to? He’s left to wonder. Where is it going?
Why can’t I follow?
Then he wakes up.
No longer does he lay awake for hours afterwards, scouring the dream’s every frame for his answers.
Now, he tosses and turns in clammy sheets until his exhaustion wins.
Now, he welcomes sleep like a miracle granted by some pitying god.
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You see him.
Through a living room packed with red-faced partygoers and dissected by oscillating strobe lights, albeit, but you see him anyways. 
Jisung can barely make out the rest of your face—he blames the lighting, or the soju, or both—but your eyes alone turn him to glass. Not a fancy vase through which the world distorts, but a simple pane that puts him and his ghosts on full display.
He hopes you like horror movies.
Felix knows you, because of course he does, and Jisung has never been happier to call the extroverted Australian his friend than when you come over to say hi. You stumble out of the crowd all smudged makeup and sweaty skin, your figure hugged by a short black dress with two diamond-shaped openings just above your hips, your glossy lips curved in a drunken smile. Jisung immediately wants it against his mouth.
Instead, it disappears behind his friend as you pull him into a quick hug. A few wisps of your hair dust over Jisung’s arm, momentarily replacing the smells of grease and vodka with cherry blossoms and vanilla.
“Lix, hey!”
“Darling, it’s good to see you! Feels like it’s been ages.”
“I know, right? How are you? How is everything?”
“Good, thank you. Just happy the semester’s over.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Then you go to lift your drink and discover thin air in its place. “Or I won’t. Whoops.”
This prompts Jisung’s first contribution to the conversation—and his first effortless laugh in a long while.
“Eventful night, huh?”
He meets your gaze from all of two feet away this time, and his knees buckle under him. That gaze, fuck. So clear and true, like a prism of glass refracting light into a rainbow. He would let you refract him a thousand times over if he had any light to give.
“Maybe,” you giggle. “Seems I’m a little too happy the semester’s over.”
“Wanna not get a drink to celebrate?”
Your expression flickers. Not in a bad way, more like you hadn’t expected him to ask so soon—or for yourself to have your answer so quickly.
A strobe light catches right under your eye and refracts the color in your blushing face. A rainbow.
“I’d like that.”
He tilts his head towards the kitchen. You give Felix’s elbow a light squeeze before moving past him; he gives Felix a glimpse of his growing smile before falling into step behind you. The blonde shakes his head, throws back the rest of his beer, then swivels at the sound of someone calling his name from across the foyer.
Felix will get drunk enough to forget the sight of you leading Jisung up the stairs, two bottles of pink lemonade tucked under your arm. Nothing stronger, as promised.
Jisung asks his question an entire minute after he intends to. “Where are we going, by the way?”
“Somewhere I can see your pretty face without having to squint,” you reply, and his stomach tumbles like a schoolboy with a valentine.
You don’t stop at the second floor. Instead, you nudge open a door Jisung swears just materialized to his left and emerge into the night air.
It’s warm for December, but he’s still met with chilly winds licking down the sides of his neck. That’s not the only reason he shudders, though. Below his feet, he finds a metal platform akin to that of a fire escape. Above his head, a staircase that looks one forceful step away from dropping off the side of the building.
You turn towards it. 
In a hurry, he sputters, “I’m, uh—I’m not sure about this.”
A beat passes. Your hold on his wrist loosens, not to let go, just to trace wordless reassurance down the back of his hand. Your fingers feel perfect sliding into the spaces between his, like drops of honey in the craters of soufflé pancakes.
“It’s safer than it looks, I promise.”
Jisung heaves a sigh. It seems saying no to you is an impossible task.
You’re right, though. The iron rungs are surprisingly rigid beneath his feet, and the two of you make it to the roof with no trouble. He does stumble when you pull him up onto the gravel, but it’s intentional, a purposeful blunder to have you closer. To snag another glimpse of that blush, another trace of that floral vanilla.
“Sorry,” he whispers almost directly upon your lips. And that earns him all three.
The next hour evades him for the most part, and Jisung is pissed about it. He’s with the woman of his dreams under a sky so clear it’s almost lustrous and he’s too shitfaced to recollect when he gave you his hoodie to wear; what you said that made his lungs capsize with how hard he laughed; how you ended up so close to each other, your legs strewn over his lap, his hands tracing over your thighs.
Thankfully, he remembers a few things. He remembers how frighteningly easy you are to talk to; he remembers your habit of smacking his stomach when you get flustered; he remembers you getting flustered a lot. He remembers the timbres of your different laughs and how your stunning features crinkle with each. He remembers feeling like a pane of glass in front of you, just like he had downstairs, and he remembers liking it, somehow. Liking the way you see through him, the way you allow him to just exist as he is. Liking the way you acknowledge his ghosts with such nonchalance, inviting them over for tea and biscuits.
He wants to remember everything about you.
It’s not often he wants to remember anything.
Eventually, your conversation comes to a natural close. In its absence, Jisung notices that the alcoholic sludge in his brain has largely diffused; with it, the rumbling bass of the party below. The full moon hangs at its highest point, blanketing the two of you with anticipatory silence, nudging you towards the only topic you’ve yet to breach.
He meets your gaze again, from all of two inches away this time, and his insides twist.
“You’re still drunk, aren’t you?”
You blink at him, not following. Then he leans his forehead against yours, lets his eyes flicker to your mouth with such unbridled want that you’re instantly dizzy—and no longer confused.
Regret pools in your eyes moments before they close. “Yes, I think so.”
Your lips are so, so close that he can feel the air shift between you when they move, can feel the soft warmth emanating from them. Jisung pulls away before he does anything stupid.
You do the stupid thing for him.
You push his shoulders to the plaster behind him, push yourself onto his lap with a swing of your body and a slotting of your legs on either side of him. 
The plush of your thighs hugging his hips, the curves of your breasts pressed against his chest, Jisung tries to stare up at you, perplexed, aroused. But you’re so close that he can’t, so he settles with whispering upon the underside of your chin, “what are you—”
“Gimme your lemonade.”
The authoritative words come out in a slurred haze, and he all but hastens to oblige. 
You pluck the plastic bottle from his wavering grasp. His empty hand hovers as if uncertain where to go. But matters as trivial as hand placement drop off his mind’s precipice as he watches you unscrew the cap, the slope of your neck illuminated by spindly moonlight, and without thinking he pushes his hands beneath the hem of your—his—hoodie.
The skin of your waist is warm and smooth where his fingertips are cold and calloused, the juxtaposition unimportant in your reciprocal desires to touch and be touched.
“Open,” you murmur.
His jaw goes slack, firstly from pure disbelief. Then, obedience. The dark locks that obstruct his vision of you fall away as his head meets the brick half-wall behind him, as if the midnight breeze itself mandated their removal.
You pour some of the pink liquid past Jisung’s parted lips. Stray rivulets slip down his cheek and vanish beneath his neckline. You break eye contact to follow their path with dilated pupils and fluttering lashes. With unadulterated desire.
He swallows, gently, and feels the sweet substance surround his tonsils.
He swallows, forcefully, when you wrap your lips around the bottle, the plastic still slathered in his spit.
The swig you take is long, deep. Your throat bobs and your eyes close as if you’re savoring a finely-aged nectar. Then your lips are popping off the opening with a soft thwock, leaving a thick strand of saliva to suspend, suspend, suspend until the very second it’s about to drop, which is when you collect the residue with a deft swipe of your tongue.
“A placeholder,” you breathe, and Jisung’s head careens. A shared bottle. An indirect kiss.
“You’re a monster,” he croaks.
You giggle and lean down, curling a hand around his cheek, pressing a wet kiss to his Adam’s apple.
“Tomorrow, if we’re both sober…”
One, two, three pecks up the length of his jaw.
“...and you still remember my address…”
A suckle to the lobe of his ear.
“...you can kiss me, for real.”
A trembling breath.
“And then some.”
Jisung moans, loudly.
Thankfully, he remembers a few things.
He shows up at your place shortly after sunset the next day. You swing open the door, your face already alight with your world-ending smile.
“Hi.”
“Hey.”
Then he’s kissing you like a man famished.
Jisung learns to love your back, that night. He loves its dips and curves, loves its rise and fall. Loves how it arches into him, how it looks drenched in his cum. It’s the back of his dreams.
The back in his dreams keeps walking.
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Jisung has never liked winter.
He has never liked its winds, whispering woefully as if mourning something unnamed and unseen. He has never liked its palette, whitewashing the world as if refracting a rainbow in reverse.
He has never liked cracking open his eyes and seeing the scenery of his nightmare outside his window. Nor does he like trudging over the sleet as if weighed down by the same ghosts that break him time and time again in his dreamscape. They love winter. 
And this winter, he swears, is the bitterest yet. On the nights when he’s allowed to sleep, the nightmare comes in such sharp relief that he thinks he’d rather anything else, the ghosts meaner, the blood redder, the silhouette slower. It’s an act of mercy when he’s still awake by the time bleached sunlight perforates the curtains, resting upon his salted cheeks and balled fists.
This winter, it is not just dislike that he feels towards the gray winds—it’s hatred. A maelstrom of loathing so large and dark that Jisung no longer knows where it’s headed or what it’s directed to. Or who.
When winter break comes to an end, he’s probably the only person who’s happy about it.
His friends certainly aren’t, looking like a line of angry nutcrackers with their folded arms and thunderous faces standing outside Greem Cafe.
Jisung calls out a greeting as he jogs towards them, and cue the grumbling.
“What is there to smile about? Enlighten us.” That’s Hyunjin. “I have to deal with four finals and three essays in the next five days and this guy is smiling.”
“He’s accepted his fate, I reckon.” That’s Felix. “We should do the same, boys. Let ourselves down easy, y’know?”
“No, no, he’s smiling because he remembered to bring me his chem notes.” That’s Jeongin. “You did, right? Please say you did.”
Jisung is stunned into silence. “Can I not be happy to see my friends?”
“No,” Hyunjin and Felix reply in unison.
“My bad,” he sighs.
“My notes,” Jeongin repeats.
“I have them, dude. Let’s sit down first.”
The younger boy shouts an impassioned “THANK YOU” at the sky like the clouds just saved his GPA. Jisung reaches for the door to the café, then stops at the sound of Felix’s voice.
“We’re waiting on one more person.”
He turns towards the blonde with puzzled eyes. He’d been under the impression the study session would comprise just them four.
“Who?”
Felix’s response falters on his tongue when he catches sight of something in the distance, and his face changes in a way Jisung’s seen before.
“Look behind you.” Felix shuffles past him, raising his voice to shout, “yo!”
Jisung glances away from the newcomer as quickly as he sees her. It’s not until his eyes pivot to the fire hydrant across the street that he processes her identity.
In one second flat, his mind clutters full. He thinks back to that party, when all it took was the sight of your smile for him to theorize you were the most exquisite thing ever made. He thinks back to the next evening, when he kissed you and verified his hypothesis. He thinks back to what followed and would continue to follow in the few days that remained before break: entwined tongues and emblazoned hickeys, whitened knuckles and whiny praise, snapping hips and shaking bedframes.
This winter, Jisung swears, is the bitterest yet.
But seeing you, the scarf wound multiple times around your neck doing nothing to hide your gorgeous smile, feels like catching a fragment of summer in his frozen hands.
“Thank god,” Felix groans before embracing you. Collapsing on you, more like. “I’m saved.”
You reach around to pat the boy on the back, your eyes brimming with laughter. “Lower your expectations, please. I did well on one exam.”
“You aced the midterm. That automatically makes you a rocket scientist,” Felix corrects, his voice muffled into the shoulder of your coat. A few beats of silence pass. Then, “this is comfy.”
“Okay, okay, let’s go get some caffeine in you,” you giggle. “We have a lot of ground to cover today.”
Felix straightens up sleepily. And sadly. “Superb.”
Jisung hangs back as you introduce yourself to Hyunjin and Jeongin. He doesn’t even notice his growing smile until you’re standing directly in front of him and for the first time in three weeks there’s the smell of cherry blossoms in the air and a rainbow shining on his face again.
“Hi,” he offers.
“Hey,” you reply.
Hyunjin is the one to shatter the prolonged silence that follows. “Are you guys betrothed?”
Felix and Jeongin stalk into the café snickering. You and Jisung trail behind with flaming cheeks.
It takes Jisung two and a half hours to talk to you again. At that point in the afternoon, Felix is napping on the second practice test you’ve given him; Hyunjin has downed three shots of pure espresso and is currently viewing his screen with concerning intensity; Jeongin is at another table on a quiet Zoom call with his chemistry T.A., Jisung’s notes clutched to his chest like a life vest. And you’re leaning back against your seat opposite to him, scrolling through your phone in what he presumes to be a well-deserved study break. As good a time as any.
He opens up his texts with you. His fingers fly across the keyboard.
Jisung: do you have plans after this?
Your eyes stutter to the top of your screen, linger there for a moment, and lock onto Jisung’s from across the table.
He presses his lips into a thin line to suppress his smile. You let yours spill over in full form, and with it comes a soft giggle that would be worth getting his number fucking blocked just to hear one more time.
Three gray dots appear before elongating into a prompt response.
Y/N: I was gonna ask you the same thing…
He’s the one who laughs this time. Fuck, you’re cute. You’re so cute.
Jisung: can i take you to dinner? Y/N: Yes, I’d love that :) Y/N: When should we leave? Jisung: 9? Y/N: Sounds good~ Jisung: cool Jisung: it’s a date Y/N: It’s a date! Y/N: Excited 💛
With that, you put your phone face down and return to work, though your lips remain privately upturned. Jisung wants to kiss them again.
He also wants to turn you into a mess on his cock again.
Or both.
He doesn’t get much studying done after that thought surfaces.
Jisung: me too <3
When nine o’clock rolls around, you and Jisung begin cleaning up your work stations in near-perfect simultaneity. There’s confusion written all over Hyunjin’s and Jeongin’s faces as they watch you swing your backpacks over your shoulders—but Felix’s expression is a blank slate as he sips from his macchiato. Your ingenuity isn’t the only reason he invited you today.
As you make your way out of the café, your shoulders brush once, twice, and then Jisung drops his hand into the space between the two of you without uttering a word. You scoop it up in your own without missing a beat.
He steps into the freezing night feeling warm all over.
“You know what I realized?” You say as you walk towards his SUV.
“What did you realize?”
“We’ve never had a sober conversation before. Can we change that tonight?”
Jisung has broken hearts before.
There’s no euphemistic way to describe his tendency to abuse the sensitive organs, to wring them out and throw them away like irrelevant trash. To juggle and drop them with a sheepish laugh like they’re nothing more than props in a circus act.
He doesn’t do it to save himself or his partners from getting hurt or any self-ingratiating bullshit like that. It’s for himself, all for himself. All to unload his balls and his mind for fifteen blissful seconds. 
There’s blood on his hands. He never cared to wash it off.
Except you are the one asking for his heart this time around, a dash of hope in your smile as you do so, and he thinks it would be his life’s greatest honor to be discarded by you.
“Sure,” he answers.
He doesn’t even last until he’s inside the car.
Your back meets the door to the passenger’s seat, guided there by his hands on your hips. From millimeters away he watches your surprise morph into understanding, then darken into lust.
“I like when we don’t talk, though.”
It’s the most annoying thing in the world to remove so many layers in such a cramped space.
Combined, your clothing forms a tower high enough to block out the driver’s window completely. An unnecessary blockade.
The glass fogs up anyways.
“Fuck, Ji, yes, right there, oh my god.”
You have your legs spread open and the back of your neck digging into the cupholder on the door. It’s not comfortable. You’re too busy getting fucked open to care.
Jisung detaches his lips from your neck to ask, “here, baby?”
The head of his cock hits that gummy spot again, harder, sweeter. You convulse, your hand scrambling for purchase in his raven locks.
“Yes, yes, yes, don’t stop, please.”
Please. The word plays over in his fuzzy mind.
It seems saying no to you is an impossible task.
His cock slips out of you and you lament the loss of contact with a high wail.
“W-why’d—where’d you go?”
He can’t help but chuckle at how incoherent you’ve become. He cradles the back of your head with a tender hand and lowers your upper body onto the leather seat, adjusting himself to your new elevation.
“Right here, beautiful. Didn’t go anywhere—promise—” 
He expels the final word through gritted teeth as he slams into you again, and the new angle is glorious. Your bodies keen in flawless harmony. Profanities tumble from his lips in a steady stream before they turn back into syllables.
“Would never go anywhere. Would never leave without making this pretty pussy cream like it deserves—holy fucking shit, baby.”
You clench around him at his words and then he’s setting a new, relentless rhythm, rocking the whole vehicle with every hearty smack of his hips against yours, your wet walls squeezing him so dreamily he thinks he sees nirvana with every thrust.
You’re enjoying it just as much, if the bubbles of spit in the corner of your mouth are any indication, and Jisung is viciously proud to be the cause. Unbelievably lucky to feel your breasts jiggling under his chest and your nails digging into the back of his neck.
“Good?” He whispers, and you nod blissfully.
“So—good, Ji, so fucking good. Your cock is perfect, fuck, I can’t even—can’t even think.”
“You’re the perfect one. Can’t believe how well your cunt takes me, shit. It’s like it was fucking made for this.”
“It was,” you breathe, and he nearly shoots his load into you at this alone. “It was, it was—oh, god, I think—think I’m gonna come—”
“Do it,” he rasps. “Come for me. Come on this cock and it’s yours.”
“R-really?”
“Really.”
“Then, I will. I’ll come on your cock—make it mine. Need it so fucking bad, I’m so fucking close, oh—please—”
He anchors himself in place with a hand against the windowsill and the other travels down your body to rub fast, tight circles into your clit. You let out a wanton, prolonged moan, tilt your head back to expose him to your fluttering throat. And then you’re pulling his lips onto yours again, and the following kiss is sloppy beyond belief, the kind that can only antedate the happiest of endings.
“My cock,” you sigh into his mouth. “Mine.”
“Forever,” is the breathy response he doesn’t know if he means, the response he gives you anyways.
And then you curl your fingers in his hair. Clamp your teeth around his lower lip. Clench your thighs around his waist. There’s liquid everywhere. Tearwater spilling down the sides of your face. Release gushing all over his dick and pelvis and backseat.
He catches up the moment he realizes what’s just happened. Pulls out of you. Presses his head against the roof of his car. Spits on his hand. Pumps his pulsating cock. Sends himself over the edge you’ve just finished tripping over.
Eventually, he regains feeling in his limbs.
He opens his eyes, surveys the damage, and grins.
Your stomach is covered in ropes of white, your expression hidden behind your hands. You start shaking your head in profuse embarrassment the moment you feel his eyes on you.
“You squirted,” he says.
“I know,” you almost yell, and his grin erupts into a laugh.
He lowers himself back over you, takes your wrists, and removes them from your blushing face. He doesn’t think he’s seen you so flustered before and it has him palpitating in ways he never thought feasible.
Maybe he did mean the damn thing after all.
He pushes off the strands of hair clinging to your damp forehead and replaces them with a gentle kiss. “It was sexy as fuck and you’re everything.” 
There’s a certain softness in your eyes when he pulls away. He hopes, for your sake, it’s all in his head.
His car is in need of aftercare most of all. You shrug on your clothes with considerable effort and get to work, all while sharing comfortable chatter and easy laughter.
Those things persist during your dinner date at a nearby Chinese restaurant and the drive back to your place, which Jisung knows well enough to no longer need his GPS. Those things persist until he kisses you goodbye on your doorstep, because he would have to be fucking crazy not to after you gave him the best night he’s had in so long.
After you reminded him that he’s still capable of comfort and ease, in spite of it all.
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Snow comes a few weeks into the new year. 
This winter, it falls late, and it falls hard, like a gust of breath expelled from drawn lungs at the very last minute. Held there as if lying in wait for something unnamed and unseen. 
The gust of breath is too quiet to be heard over the one Jisung lets out against the shell of your ear. “Wait here.”
He goes to roll off you. You don’t let him just yet, darting your hand around his wrist and bringing his face back within centimeters of yours.
Han Jisung is beautiful. You knew it for the first time at that houseparty and you’ve known it every hour of every day since. But it’s always clearest to you in the afterglow, when his bare skin is golden and sticky and his delicate lips bitten to bright fuchsia. 
When his irises have gone black and you see stars, flaring in the absence of light.
You close the distance that remains between you. Your lips part with a content sigh. Your hands drift over the slant of his neck; his find home in the dips above your waist.
He breaks away once you’re both out of breath, and the pad of his thumb wipes lightly at your lower lip.
“Everything okay?”
“Yes,” you reply shyly. “I couldn’t help myself.”
The smile this brings to his face reminds you of a candle’s flame. Soft on the eyes and scalding to the touch when he presses it back against your lips. Once, twice.
“Can you wipe your cum off me now?” You whisper, and he laughs straight into your mouth.
The mattress lifts. His footsteps grow quieter. You shiver in his absence.
Only then do you notice the blizzard.
You stumble off the bed to throw your curtains aside. Snow descends from the sky like spools of unraveling yarn. The streetlights have been reduced to foggy specks, the parked cars to blurry heaps. Every sidewalk and rooftop in sight has already been slathered in ivory.
Jisung announces his return with a disbelieving whistle.
“Am I dreaming?” You murmur.
“When did that happen?”
“I have no idea.”
You don’t even notice the wild smile on your face until you turn to him and catch his reaction to it. He looks like he’s asking himself the same question.
“C’mere,” he hums, and you oblige.
He laves the warm towel over your breasts and stomach, as well as the places his release has trickled since you flung yourself to your feet. All while supporting the small of your back with a touch fatally careful, an expression wholly adoring. All evidence of just how blurry the line between sexual escapade and lover has become in two short months.
Your ribcage fucking throbs.
“You don’t seem excited,” you say.
He finishes cleaning you off. You give him a distracted thank you, noticing the sudden shadow draped over his face like a netted veil.
“I’m not,” he answers, not unkindly.
“You don’t like snow?”
“Not really.”
“Why?”
He circles around the bed to get dressed. You bend to pick up the clothes tossed aside earlier and drop them into your hamper, then slip into a clean pair of underwear and sweatpants.
“It’s a long story.”
Just as you reach for a top, a bundle of cloth travels in an arc across your bedroom and hooks itself around the crook of your arm. His T-shirt. 
You glance at Jisung. He’s already looking elsewhere, but his private smile makes its way onto your face as you slip it on.
“Well, I have time.” You sink into your mattress, now surrounded by his muted musk, his papyrus and petrichor. “We’ll be stuck here a while, after all.”
“Stuck?” Jisung repeats, the lanyard of his car keys dangling from the pocket of his hoodie, his feet turned towards the door.
A pregnant pause commences. His intentions dawn, and you gape.
“You’re not driving right now.”
He breaks eye contact.
“Right?”
That was the plan, you read in his expression.
You know better than trying to reverse a river’s current by kicking up rocks. You know better than trying to curtail the flight of an albatross by clipping its wings.
You know better than asking someone who thinks he was made to leave to stay.
And you won’t.
“I have somewhere to be early tomorrow morning,” he stammers, the lines terribly rehearsed. “The snow’s not heavy, I’ll be—”
“Stay.”
You’re not asking.
Jisung looks at you, startled, as you glide across the bed. You place your feet on the hardwood and circle your arms around his waist. Lace your fingers upon the hollow of his back. His pulse goes uneven at your abrupt proximity.
Akin to the drag of a feather, you mouth at his cheek, then the side of his neck.
“You can stay, Jisung.”
He shudders at your words, and you’ve got him.
It’s oddly normal, the sight of him clambering into your bed in your clothing—a pair of old sweatpants and your favorite crewneck—like this isn’t the first time you’re sleeping together in your two months of sleeping together.
In fact, the only indication of anything unordinary is the floaty feeling in your stomach when your head hits the pillow and discover Jisung’s face only inches away. He drapes an arm over your waist, gathering you close. You nuzzle into the crook of his neck.
The inevitable question follows.
“Can I save the story for another time?”
“Sure,” you return, keeping your voice small. He doesn’t hear your disappointment this way. “Should we go to sleep, then?”
“We should.”
Your foreheads touch. Your noses bump together. Your eyes cross, watching the adoration pull at his. You dimly register your hand threading in his fluffy locks, his thumb running over your cheekbone. Your lashes narrowly miss the surface of his eyes, and then he tips your face up by millimeters.
You don’t remember when you fall asleep. You only recall the hour beforehand that you spend with Jisung’s lips traversing yours, like you are the ocean and he’s uncovering new waters with every bruise he prints against your throat, every suckle he leaves around your tongue.
In your dream, the roles reverse and you are the one exploring him, mapping out his constellations with wide-eyed wonder.
You wake to a black hole.
For the first five seconds, you see nothing. You hear nothing. You feel nothing. You only blink in the darkness, your mind kicking into groggy gear to ask the very good question of why you’re conscious again.
Instinct moves your hand across the mattress. Empty space greets you where Jisung should be. Unfounded dread shoves your back off the bed. You gasp, the sound seeming to echo in the cavernous silence.
Your eyes adjust enough to discern light in the crack beneath your door, and you’re wide awake.
The following events go by in a blur. You stumble out of bed and into your closet, fastening your fingers around the thickest piece of fabric you find. You fly into the living room, where the lamp by the couch is left on and the pair of worn black Converse on your doormat have gone missing.
The front door is cracked open, and through the narrow inches you spot someone hunched on the stairs outside, his dark hair dyed platinum by the awning light’s fluorescence.
Your heart stills in relief, then quickens with anxiety.
You’ve tried wearing this crewneck in January enough times to know you can’t. In fact, you suspect that it somehow soaks up the temperature, lets it seep in between its every seam until it becomes one with the bitter winds. 
But he isn’t shivering, you notice as you take a seat next to him, draping the puffer over both of your shoulders on your way down. He’s simply staring off into the bleak storm, snowflakes sitting atop his head like a coating of ash, their color matching that of his frozen skin. He’s becoming one with the bitter winds. 
At first, you don’t recognize the man in front of you.
You’re well familiar with those ring-laden hands and the whetted jawline thrown into shadow, those remnants of cologne clinging to his frame. But you have never seen that gaze before, bloodshot and bleak and belonging to somebody new. Somebody who isn’t completely here, straddling the partition between the realms of people and phantoms.
Then he lifts his eyes and you see stars, flaring in the absence of light. Your stars.
And you recognize him for the first time ever.
You drop your hand to your hip, and his fingers feel stiff and cold and perfect, sliding into the spaces between yours.
“Why don’t you like snow?” You ask.
Jisung’s eyes return to the swirling sleet, but he moves your interlocked hands to rest on his thigh, and you know that he’s with you.
He’s been having this nightmare.
It takes place in a small clearing. It’s winter, and everything is covered in snow. Not the gentle kind that you can catch on your tongue, but the unyielding kind that’s hard and dense and covered in cracks, like a lake newly frozen over.
Somebody is in front of him, walking away. He can only see their back. He wants to chase after them. He doesn’t want to be left behind. But there are ghosts nearby, and they’ll split his skull open on the permafrost and tie his windpipe into a pretty bow if he so much as dreams of pursuit. He always does. He doesn’t know how not to.
Normally, the back leaves, and he can do nothing but remain. He can direct his loathing only to the snow into which he bleeds. 
Normally, he waits for the dream to end with something bordering on boredom. He’s seen this movie too many times. He fucking hates how it ends.
This time, though, the snow tastes like something.
After the flavors deliquesce upon his tongue, his head shoots up, his eyes blowing wide as they latch onto the retreating figure. He knows who it is.
His feet scrabbles against the ice with his attempts to rise to them. He lunges forward with frenzied resolve, and that is when the ghosts snap his neck.
He wakes up.
“Cherry blossoms and vanilla.”
You blink, tearwater streaking from your eyes in silent, steaming trails.
“That’s—”
My shampoo.
A broken sob escapes you in lieu of the rest of your sentence, and Jisung laughs, a flimsy facade that crumbles when he lifts his hand to dab at your moistened cheeks and it’s trembling.
“Silly,” he murmurs. “I’m used to it now.”
“I don’t want you to be.”
“I don’t want you to cry for me.”
“You died.”
“And I would do it again.”
This response comes without an shred of hesitation.
You first realized you had something to confess, that night in the the back of Jisung’s SUV. You’ve kept it locked away for your sake and his, even moreso. You see how fear clings to him like an unshakeable wraith, and you refuse to feed the parasite.
Now, your confession explodes from its fortress in the center of your soul and rises up your larynx. You panic like an inept security guard letting their only prisoner bolt free. Is it really the right time? Do you know what to say? Have you really thought this through? 
Too late. It’s rushing to the point of your tongue already. You suppose you’ll find out.
He saves you the trouble.
“Honestly?”
Your confession stills. 
“I don’t know if I’m okay, and I won’t try to convince you otherwise. You’d call my bluff. You’re good at that.
“But everything feels okay when I’m with you. You see me. You allow me just to exist as I am. You make me feel human again—you make me want to feel human again. You empty my mind.”
You feel as if you’ve been ejected into space naked, griping for air where there is none.
“I never believed in having somebody to lose,” he utters, gently leaning his forehead against yours. “But I would rather disappear than watch you go.”
You cradle his jaw with shaking fingers, trying and failing to quell the violence of your emotion.
“Don’t go,” he exhales.
You kiss him.
It should feel the same as before. You reach for the slant of his neck, him the dips above your waist. You sigh into him, parting your lips, and he moves into you deeper, harder, dipping into your mouth with his tongue’s pliant swipe. But there’s something new in the way you hold each other, in the seal of your mouth against his.
The line between sexual escapade and lover vanishes as if swept off the sand and into the sea. His stars come out of hiding at last and they bathe you in their residue, light your heart aglow.
Your confession resurfaces. It wants to stargaze also.
“I love you too,” you breathe.
The night comes and goes.
The two of you spend it entangling, sweating, your lips glued the expanse of his neck and the arcs of his shoulders, writing over the ghosts’ injuries with bruises of your making.
Only when the winds have faltered outside do you attempt to rest again. You are curled up in balmy bliss, utterly depleted. Jisung’s arms around your middle and legs threaded among yours bring you that much closer to slumber’s cusp.
You attribute it to your exhaustion when he mumbles something against you, and you have no idea what it means: “Thank you for refracting me.” 
Your confusion is palpable in your silence. His laugh hits the nape of your neck with a gentle puff, and he kisses the spot just beneath your ear. “Never mind.”
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© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support!
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crushmeeren · 3 months
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Everyone in this work of fiction is aged up/18+, if that bothers you—block me or keep scrolling
One Shot? NSFW Headcannons? Both.
Warnings; yandere Yuuta vibes, cursing, possessive & obsessive behavior, violent threats (Yuuta threatens to snap somebody’s fingers), rough sex, biting, breath play, dirty talk, light smacking, reader getting stuffed
••••••
Yuuta who loves you wholeheartedly yet…painfully. Obsessively. More than obsession. Whose heart beats cruelly for you. Thumping in such a rhythm he’s sure it’s in tune with the pronunciation of your name. His love for you devours him completely—and he’s high on the way you love him.
Yuuta who lets you be privy to all the dark, depraved thoughts that seem to constantly rattle through his brain.
Yuuta who aches when he has to be apart from you. Who would crawl inside your skin if he could. Who tells you so often. (your feelings are mutual)
Yuuta who takes you out bar hopping on occasion. Who gets a thrill showing off what’s his. Whose gaze is intense as he watches another below average man attempt to dance with you, his arm brushing your wrist. Who gets a sick sort pleasure curling in his chest as he takes note of the bitchy expression on your face when you shut him down.
Yuuta who throws back a shot easily. Who saunters over from his spot at the bar. Who approaches you casually, hands tucked away in his pockets, curled into fists. Whose lips are pulled into a sweet grin, sleepy eyes flitting between you and below average Joe.
Yuuta whose entirely fake calm demeanor forces a cold thrill to shiver down your spine, because you know the beast that lurks just beneath. Who makes your blood thrum as he leans into the man’s face, lazy smile never faltering when he speaks.
Yuuta who you know has a boiling rage licking in between his rib cage when he threatens the man with a serene voice. Your hair stands on end when Yuuta’s posture drops the temperature around you by a few degrees. Who tells the stranger in a voice that rivals the Antarctic, I’ll snap your fucking fingers one by one if you ever touch what’s mine again. (your heart’s in your throat. you need Yuuta to take you home. now.)
Yuuta who studies the man’s face as it pales, as he turns, running with his tail tucked between his legs. Yuuta who then turns to you, smile so sweet your teeth ache.
Yuuta who lets his fingers grip your wrist too tightly. Forcing your finger tips to pulsate from lack of blood flow as he drags you out the bar & to your home. (The anticipatory butterflies knock around your belly because you know he’s gonna remind you who you belong too—you can’t fucking wait)
Yuuta who lets the tension in the air thicken to the point of suffocating. Who whistles a bright tune as he walks leisurely to your bedroom—giving you chills at how eerie it is. Who lets you follow behind before he’s slamming the door hard enough to rock the foundation.
Yuuta who slams you up against the door, your skull knocking into the wood. Pain radiating down to your neck. Whose finger tips dig harshly into the muscle of your jaw as he forces it to stay shut.
Yuuta whose face flattens into an expression you’ve only ever seen on sociopaths. Whose sanpaku eyes look empty, but you know he’s livid on the inside.
Yuuta who invades your personal space, making your teeth creak in his grasp. Who murmurs low & rough you wanted to watch me break that fuckers arm didn’t you baby? You can only whine in agreement, body flushing hotly.
Yuuta who hums in acknowledgment. Who gives you a pretty smile because he knows you’re just as twisted as he is. Who coos you only have to ask, my heart—I’ll slice anyone in half if you so desire. You know how much I love you.
Yuuta who lets go of your jaw, kissing you eagerly, teeth knocking yours. Whose lips are hot, slick but ultimately soft when they meet yours again & again. Who moans beautifully into your mouth, tongue playing sweetly with yours.
Yuuta who then bites down on your warm tongue—hard enough to make you bleed. Who grins, giggling into your kiss when you sink your own teeth into his lower lip just as brutally. Pulling on it. Releasing it with a wet pop.
Yuuta who strips you both bare. Whose cock is already achingly hard as he forces you onto your back on the bed. Who places a warm palm in the middle of your sternum, roughly pinning you to the mattress. Who admires the way your tits gently bounce whenever you squirm under his grip.
Yuuta who pushes two fingers into your mouth, purring at you to suck them like you’re sucking my cock baby. Who groans softly when you do just as you’re told. Who rips his fingers from your mouth—sinking his canines into the flesh of your shoulder & gripping your tits. Who lets his shaft spread the lips of your slick pussy, rolling his hips—never letting his teeth free of your shoulder.
Yuuta who listens to you whimper & choke on your moans, whining Yuuta, please my love—nngh, want you to fuck me! Who finally releases his bite, who stares down at you with a reassuring half smile—who then smacks you across the cheek hard enough to whip your head to one side, making you yelp. Who knows you love when he treats you this way.
Yuuta who is still too pissed off about earlier, not wasting any more energy on foreplay tonight. Who knows your pussy drools for him anyways as he bends to your whim—even if he tries not to show it.
Yuuta who sits back on his heels. Who presses just the tip inside your warm, silky pussy—already trying to swallow his cock entirely. Who listens to your soft cries of pleasure & fills you completely with no hesitation, no resistance. Who moans with you when his balls are snug against your ass.
Yuuta whose eyes flutter shut as he grips your ankle, pulling one leg over his shoulder. Who bends forward, splitting you open over & over as he fucks you harshly from the beginning. Who revels in the wet hiccups & whines you’re gifting him. Pleading just like—oh fuck! fuck yes Yuuta, right there, please make me cum!
Yuuta who laughs humorlessly, cock pulsing when your sweet voice begs for him. Who purposely lets his tip kiss your cervix repeatedly. Whose tone is so mean when he speaks oh? you wanna cum? then you better fucking cum hard on my cock. your pussy is all for me, my heart. I own you—don’t forget it.
Yuuta who braces a hand on the bed, bending you further in half. Who uses the large palm of his free hand to encase your mouth & nose, cutting off your air. Who tilts his hips just right, taunting you—mm if you don’t wanna pass out, you better cum quickly for me. Who chomps down on his lower lip while he gazes at your face, eyes eternally sleepy. Who loves the feel of your nails sinking into his forearms.
Yuuta who feels his balls tighten up when your back arches off the bed, writhing because you can’t breathe. Who can feel your pussy starting to flutter as your eyes roll back in your head. Who snarls god, you’re gonna cum aren’t you? looks like you’re running out of air, but who isn’t fairing any better. Whose cheeks are bright red, who’s huffing as he thrusts, who has sweat trailing down his temple.
Yuuta who inhales sharply through his teeth as your pussy gets unbearably tight, who immediately allows you to breathe as soon as you start to cum, suffocating his cock in the best kind of way. Who makes you dizzy with the intensity of your orgasm as your lungs burn for air.
Yuuta who does a 180. Mouth falling open, eyebrows scrunching. Mean streak disappearing completely. Who lets out a sweet moan as he lets your leg down, smothering his face in your neck. Whose breath hitches, whining fuck—ah, I’m gonna cum baby. Whose cock twitches as he starts to climax, shallowly thrusting, stuffing you full with sticky ribbons of his release.
Yuuta who chants, I love you baby, love you so goddamn much. I’ll do anything for you, my heart. Who pants hotly against your skin as he goes limp, snaking his arms underneath you in a tight hug.
Yuuta who all but purrs as your nails scratch soothingly over his scalp, sending shivers down his spine. Who feels warm & pleasantly gooey when you coo at him, whispering his praises & how much you love him into his ear as you lay intertwined.
Yuuta who takes care of you afterwards, cleaning you up, rubbing your back and hugging you close under the blankets. Who tells you how good you were for him, what a sweet girl you are. Whispering he loves you at least a thousand times. Who turns you around to be his little spoon, molding his body to the back of yours. Who slips an arm around your waist, forehead pressed against your back.
Yuuta who loves you an unhealthy amount. Who’s menacing, insane—unbelievably loving. But it’s all okay with you, you’re just as obsessed as he is.
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steddielations · 4 months
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Eddie’s queer awakening Part 2 | Part 1
Steve doesn’t know what else to do to make Eddie realize he likes him. Never in his life has he had to work this hard at winning someone over. Never.
Even with Nancy in high school, there was always a hint that she wanted him to chase her, which made it worthwhile. Sometimes, Eddie will do something that makes Steve sure he feels the same, flirting back. Then Eddie will do something that makes Steve not so sure, laughing it off.
Steve doesn’t like resorting to bullshit queer stereotypes because he doesn’t exactly fit them either, but Eddie looks like those rugged guys on his posters and album covers. Sometimes it feels like a masculinity performance worthy of King Steve, but sometimes it feels genuine.
Eddie’s not dressing like Bowie, but he prances around on cafeteria tables yelling about sodomy and he’s never had a girlfriend that Steve knows of. He could like both, same as Steve, of course. Or it could be nothing, of course. Steve’s just putting all these moves on a straight boy, about to get his heart broken again.
Robin’s given him countless pep talks, assuring him that he’s right about Eddie when he starts to doubt it. “You sniffed Vickie out just from her VHS returns. If anyone has a functional queer detector here, it’s you. Trust it.”
“What if I ask him out and he rejects me?” Steve fully understands Robin’s worries now, it’s not the same as getting shot down by a girl. “I’ve got enough rumors about me already.” They all wanted to say it in high school, calling Steve a pretty boy in tight pants that spent too much time in the mirror.
Tommy used to shoot them all down. Now he’s not by Steve’s side, snarling at anyone who suggests it. Which was mostly just Tommy trying to convince himself that everything they did under the covers at sleepovers was “just guy stuff”, and he convinced Steve too. To the point where Steve hadn’t even considered any different until a few months ago when he told Robin and— yeah, that was an eventful conversation. The first time he stumbled across the word bisexual— from a Bowie interview in one of Robin’s magazines— it felt like something clicked into place.
“I don’t think Eddie’s the type to out anyone, either way.” Robin’s right. She’s not always right, everything would be easier if she was, but she’s right about that.
“I keep having to pretend to like his shitty weed to get him to come over. Not even the yawn and stretch move worked on him. Y’know, this,” Steve demonstrates, stretching an arm above his head and then draping it over Robin’s shoulder. She shrugs him off with a fake gag. “I kept looking at his lips and I thought we were gonna kiss, but he laughed and poked me in the ribs and called me dude.”
Robin listens to all his boy troubles and then they come up with a plan. Steve decides he’s going to come out to Eddie, just put it out there that he likes guys. In a totally platonic way and hopefully that gets the ball rolling the other way, where he tells Eddie he likes one guy in particular and hopes all his Romeo efforts don’t blow up in his face.
So he goes for it. Eddie strolls into Family Video and picks out a movie that Steve’s actually heard of for once. It’s easy for Steve to throw him a smile and invite himself over. “You know this is the closest thing to a romance movie you’ve picked? No way I’m letting you watch this alone, somebody’s gotta hold your hand through the sad ending, looks like it’s gonna be me.”
Several emotions fly across Eddie’s face, landing on overwhelmed disbelief. “I don’t get it, man. How do you not have a girlfriend? You’d be so easy to fall in love with. Hell, I feel like you've made me fall halfway in love with you already. If I was a girl, I’d date the shit out of you.”
It looks like Eddie wants to clap a hand over his mouth as soon as the words leave it.
Steve watches him carefully, trying to think clearly over his heart pounding in his chest because Eddie just said he loves him, kind of. This is it. “Would you still date me as a guy?”
Eddie’s nervous hands jingle with chain bracelets as they tug his hair and hide his face. “You mean, objectively? As a guy would I date another guy? I mean, could I want that? I hadn’t really considered that option until now. Uh. Shit. Wow, this is-”
“Because I would, you know,” Steve jumps to say, as earnestly as he can, needing Eddie to finally know. How could he not know? This is it. Steve didn’t come all this way just to tap out at the finish line. He goes for it. “I’d date you as a guy, Eddie. I’d date the shit out of you, too, just like you are.”
Eddie’s face is flushed now, his eyes wide and swimming with both questions and realizations. Steve snaps out of it for a second, looking around to see the store is thankfully empty, Robin’s still on her break, but this isn’t the place for this conversation.
“Wanna talk about it over the movie tonight?” He offers.
It moors Eddie, he relaxes more and Steve hopes he’s not imagining the faint hint of a smile. “Yeah, that’s— yeah, talk. I can do that.”
“Okay, it’s a date. See you then.” Steve hands over the tape, their fingers brushing and making warmth flutter all through him. He watches Eddie halfway trip out the door, running into it once and pulling on it three times before pushing it open.
Steve can’t stop grinning, thinking about later, determined to tell Eddie he’s already in love with him too.
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redbootsindoriath · 8 months
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Whichever anon sent me this today, thank you. There's no way you could have known, but a couple of days ago I suddenly and without warning lost a cat that I raised from the day he was born. When I saw this in my inbox I was confused at first, because what...checkmark...huh...but then I realized that it meant somebody had sent me something--out of the blue, just because--at a time that I really could use something good in my life, even something silly and fun. So, really, thank you. And green is my favorite "real" color, so having one of the checkmarks be green is pretty neat.
I've not really been able to draw anything worth anything lately, believe it or not, so here's the last picture I have of my Night Furry. He loved drives and walks, so earlier this summer on a road trip I took him to the top of the continental divide for a little hike.
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(Yes, he's wearing a harness. He had an adventurous and independent temperament, so there was always a risk of him running off to explore someplace where he shouldn't go alone. I didn't just make him wear it because I'm a cruel and stifling cat butler.)
#yo somebody talked to me#/end classification tags#his name is toothless by the way#after the dragon in how to train your dragon of course#ALSO by the way#i would NORMALLY give myself time to actually process this sort of thing and recover because i'm pretty sure i'm in psychological shock#but i'm moving halfway across the continent in like two days (less than a week after he got sick) so there was no way to just#cancel that or delay it or something#so i'm having to just get over it or whatever#👍#the car ride is going to be lonely but at least i have one more cat to keep me as good of company as she can#even if we've never been as close as toothless and i were#a VERY IMPORTANT note to all of the pet owners who follow me: PLEASE check your yards for poisonous plants#regularly and repeatedly even if there wasn't anything dangerous there before#even if you're only staying in the area for a little while#even if you only let your pets out under close supervision#even if you trust your landlord/landlady (if you rent)#because i was all of those and this still happened#check every single plant out there and be 100% sure you KNOW what each one is#did you know that silverleaf nightshade looks nothing like other kinds of nightshade?#neither did i because i never lived in this area before#anyway sorry for the dump y'all#i don't generally like to share a lot of details about my personal life but i think i'm not quite myself right now#poor little guy hadn't even lived half his expected lifespan so i wasn't ready for this to happen for years#i've been kicking myself over it for days even though i know the blame doesn't TECHNICALLY lie with me and it's messing with my psyche#he was a very special cat#in korean the term is 개양이 and google says the english is puppycat#a cat that is friendly and acts like a dog#i will likely never get a cat anything like him again and that's an awful thing to realize#i would go broke and risk my future to have him back which is stupid i know but he was really something else
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astrologydayz · 5 months
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ASTRO SEXOLOGY NOTES🔞 - NATAL CHART3
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Venus in 12th house, or 5th/8th house ruler in 12th house can get into "love" affairs while being on vacations/retreats/In foreign countries/while they're in a hospital/psych ward, and even in prison
Mars square/quincunx MC makes u so damn fine! U can carry yourself a bit "rougher" tho/look unapproachable = "people being intimidated by u", & u being a little "what the fuck u staring at", and we love it💋🤣. People with Venus conjunct/trine/quintile Eros asteroid - 433) r really sexual individuals. But they most of the time need a "personal connection" of some kind, before jumping in2 bed with someone. They ooze sexual confidence tho, because they know what they want&need sexually🤤🫦. Casanova asteroid - 7328) in Libra/7th house/aspecting Jupiter can “stray" away from their partner, quite easily. They can quickly find somebody else, that they find more "fascinating". They get bored fast! But this mostly applies 2men tho💻📓.
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Inner planets in earth signs = very sexual beings, so idk what the fuck people r on about. We just don't fuck the 1st John we c on the street🤷‍♀️. Really picky when choosing a sexual/romantic partner, and we also need 2 know that you're trustworthy 1st. But when you finally pull through, we'll show u what freaky means😘.
Scorpio Mars in/8th/12 house in a MAN'S chart can go 4 hourssss 😵‍💫😵‍💫🫠🫠. Unless Mars is afflicted by other planets, like Saturn, or Jupiter. Saturn ruled people almost always have piercings, (body/head/genitals🫦👅). Saturn rules piercings, (restriction, and Steel). Add a little pain 2 the mix, &😍.
Pluto conjunct Mars in a MAN'S chart = some serious sex appeal. They're so fucking smooth2, and have no problem with showing their dominant side. They can easily steal yo girl⚠🍆🔮. Everyone wants a piece💦🙄🤣👄.
Venus/Mars/Pluto in 3rd house likes 2 talk during sex. "U like that baby?" "tell me how much u want it", "yeah I like it, when u got your mouth full🍆🍑". They also get off on how much u can "out smart them" - Book smart or Street smart, either way🧏🤭🤓.
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Sun opposite Black Moon Lilith can look for sexual partners that looks, or reminds them of their dad🤷‍♀️(Daddy issues).
Funny how people say that Mars/Venus in 8th/8th house in Scorpio people gets more interested, if u make us jealous??? I will literally erase u🫠🧐. If we wanted to share a person, we would have gone 2 a strip club instead.
Venus square Jupiter does not mean that the individual is "addicted 2 sex", unless anything else shows so.
Jupiter in 9th house/Jupiter aspecting 9th house can show that u have big hips/big thighs/long legs💛👅.
Asteroid Varuna (20000) conjunct/trine your 7th house means that your sexual partners makes u famous, "worldwide attention" because of who u date/have close relationships with✨. If it's in Gemini (example), then u could date famous singers, actors, motivational speakers, things like that.
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POF conjunct 5th house can cause the individual 2 be very experienced in the department of love, by the end of their lives. They've dated a lot of different people most of the time, and have had all kinds of relationships - polyamorous with some, monogamous with others - examples.
Records asteroid - 30718) conjunct/opposite Mars in a MAN'S chart, can show that he "enchants" people (usually worldwide) with his sex appeal🤤🫠. The opposition shows a "complication", when it comes 2 this = wanting 2 break records for your talent/s/work, & not only4sex appeal👽.
U don't have 2 have Venus/Mars aspecting each other 2 be fine af/gain a lot of attraction from others bc of your looks/sex appeal. Look at Zac Efron - when he was young, Jungkook - BTS, Tupac🤤, Jackson Wang, Hyunjin from Skz, Rihanna, Marilyn, Austin Butler, Justin Bieber - I don't think he's hot, but some people do - I could keep going.
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Women with Mars/Venus conjunct/in 8th house = typically sexually attracted2 "misunderstood individuals" - "someone who's bad, &only good4her" kind of thing. She needs an EVERYTHING BUDDY! A loyal lover/best friend/partner in crime! someone who will never doubt her, but challenge her/someone who brings a healthy amount of “competition"/sexy bantering. She also want someone who's REALLY ready2dominate the fuck out of her, bc she's so used2 dominating people on a daily basis💁‍♀️.
Eros - (433) conjunct 11th house = being sexually attracted 2friends/finding fwb relationships 2be the perfect "arrangement"🎉💃.
Mars conjunct/trine "Dominiona" asteroid - 24899) in a MAN'S chart = a VERY sexually dominant man😤👅. "Big daddy takes little daddy energy" - they can command 10 men like that🤌. Won't let anyone try2run up on em, at any time🫠🤤. Masters at dominating "brats"2, they'll put yo ass in place babe💋.
Venus quincunx Eros asteroid - 433) shows us that an individual typically feels like they're not as sexually "appealing" as people say they r/they won't believe others words. They won't "realise" that they're sexy as hell! They let their insecurities speak4them a lot. But once they start getting that “self assurance/self confidence” = they'll quickly realise that they're the shit, when it comes 2 "seducing" - "enticing" others❤️🍒.
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THANKS4READING!!!
APPRECIATE U, ALWAYS💋
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s-4pphics · 4 months
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click! 4 (e.w.)
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SYNOPSIS: you need a roommate, and you love eggplant. [college au]
WORD COUNT: 6.7k 
WARNINGS: photographer/roommate!ellie, ocs an artist with a rep and black, angst… these hoes toxic, crazy sexual tension, kissing!!! :), fondling, dry humping, fingering!!, some dirty talk uh oh, slight unrequited love, bad communication… like awful, more slut shaming, mentions of awful parents, brief mention of alc and weed
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This eucalyptus face mask is not doing what it’s supposed to! 
Ultimate calming effect! Relaxation is at your feet and on your face! 
… Yeah, right. Why is your blood pressure touching the ceiling, then? 
It’s fucking Sunday and it’s dark outside. It’s not even seven yet. You can hear rustling in the living room and you know Ellie’s prepping for today. Your anxiety is through the roof and in the clouds! 
Why the fuck did you accept this much responsibility again? What if you look like a fucking idiot and she fires you? Is this even a job if it’s a one-time thing? Your hands are sweating. Is it too late to jump out your window and plummet to your death?
Meow! Meow! 
“Good morning, baby girl! Are you hungry?” You hear Ellie coo through the wall and your heart sores. You'd be smiling so wide if this mask wasn’t solid concrete. 
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You walk into the living room and are blinded by the bright ceiling lights. Your bill is going to skyrocket! 
“Hi.” 
Ellie, cat in arms, jumps at your voice, spinning to face you. Your skin is on fire as her eyes glaze over your appearance, cheeks tinting and fingers twitching under the thick fur. 
“Hey… you look… you look nice,” She mutters back, and you smile. 
“Thank you.” 
Meow!
Ellie’s brow arches at the baby. “Yeah? You think so, too?” 
Meow! Meow!
Ellie sets her down and lets her roam, shoving her hands into her sweats. She takes a step closer. “What’re we gonna name her?” 
“Toothle— “
Ellie rolls her eyes, “Oh my god, that’s so fucking basic.”
“Well, excuse me! I’ll shut the fuck up!” You snark playfully, “What were you thinking, Ms. I don’t fuck with animals?”
“I already told yo— “
“AHT, AHT!” You hold a finger up to hush her and she scoffs, “Toothless is one of the best animated characters of our time! Loyal, cute as fuck! Fuck everybody else in that movie! Show the drag—”
“Pickle.” 
“What.” 
“I’ve been calling her Pickle! Her name is pickle.” Ellie’s smiling at the pattering kitten, and, for some reason, you don’t fight her on it. She looks so happy; Pickle it is. 
She’s clicking her tongue at Pickle who rubs against her covered leg. With those gray sweats on, she’s luring two cats over—
“You ready?” Ellie exhales. Your eyes widen, yanked out of your drifting thoughts. You nod gently, jitters kicking in your fingertips. 
“Sorry you had to wake up this early. It takes a while for me to edit and all that, but— “
“Ellie, don’t worry! I’m — I’m excited! Just, uh… Just guide me, I guess. You’re the one with the vision.” You’re not sure if the shoot or Ellie is making you nervous. She smells so good, freshly showered and warmth radiating off of her. 
“… Guide you?” She smirks. 
Suddenly, the air is hot. “Yeah, like… tell me what to do… f-for the shot.” You awkwardly point at the set. 
“Giving me permission to use you?” She wisps and your lashes flutter, head bobbing dumbly in approval. The other cat has made her appearance! She’s meowing! Somebody stop her! 
“Alright, then… go sit.” Ellie’s head nods towards the black stool in the middle of the backdrop, and you’re moving like a trackstar, plopping down on the stool. Ellie clicks her tongue again and Pickle meows. 
“Gonna put her in my room for now. Don’t wanna scare her.” She scoops Pickle up and waddles into the short hallway, giving kit-kat one last kiss before softly shutting her door. 
Your catless roomie is in front of you in an instant, fiddling with that big ass umbrella before adjusting her tripod. 
“So, explain. What does all this do?” 
“Um…” she looks through her camera lense. Right at you, “Different things. Has to do with light control for the most part. Red is your color, by the way.” 
You gaze at your fit; You’re going to cry. “Thanks.” 
“Mhm.” 
Some silence passes before Ellie grumbles, “You’re slouching.” 
Your shoulders instantly straighten. Maybe too much, “No, I’m not.” 
A blank look from Ellie as she peeks from behind the lense, “Don’t slouch. You’re the star, remember?” She jabs jokingly. You take a deep breath. Another clumsy adjustment trying to find a pose. 
Ellie snorts as she watches you struggle, and you pout. “I'm sorry! I don’t know…” You move like a robot and she laughs. Why is she walking closer? Oh, fuck— 
“Here.” Her hands grab your shoulders, and you go lax, right in her grasp, allowing her to move you however she wants. Her touch is melting your skin through your sleeves. 
“Just… stay there.” Three wide steps, and she’s behind her camera, “Chin down a little.” She mutters. She’s encouraging with every instruction you follow, and you’re relaxing. Your movements are small, but by the series of bright flashes, they must be good enough to capture. You hope. Please, God. 
“Stay right there. That’s perfect.” 
“That’s it. Yeah, put your leg there.” 
“Twist your body a little.” 
I like that look, that’s good. Keep doing that. 
You don’t know what your eyes are doing, but Ellie's eating it up. She doesn’t know what her words are doing for your confidence. She’s in your ears, in your presence, encouraging everything you’re giving the flashing camera. Your poses get bolder, eyes going softer the more you inspect her. 
“Chin down again. Like… look through your lashes…” 
Ellie’s so focused on you and it’s making your mouth water. She’s so calm and controlling, but not overbearing. She lets you take the reins and yanks them when she’s got something. The twist of your wrist, the flutter of your lashes, the doting expression on your face. It’s sparking something in her, you can see it from where you sit. She's so attractive when she’s working. 
And then she smiles and your heart leaps. Flash. 
“You like this.” She notes. 
Another flash when you smile, “A little. This is fun.” 
“Oh, yeah? I’m getting booked for your grad pics?” 
Not if you fail statistics! “Gonna have to ask my dad! He’s picky!” 
She hums with a light chuckle. “You look good in these. He’ll like me.” 
More flashes, and there’s scratching at Ellie’s door. She sighs like it pains her to continue, “Hold on, baby! Almost done!” She coos at Pickle. 
She mutters, “I’m gonna take, like… ten more. The mood’s gonna change a little if that’s cool.” 
You stop yourself from slouching. “Sure, uh… what do I do now?” 
“Imagine love as a vice. Think about the turmoil that comes with losing that feeling for somebody.” 
Your mind instantly whirls to Dina and your heart cracks. What a turn of fucking events! 
“Um… is that like… isn’t that like, a lot?” 
Ellie’s unfazed, “Emotions are a lot. That’s the point.” 
You don’t like this anymore. Vulnerability. Blegh. “… Okay.” 
She’s waiting on you, but you’re frozen. You can’t stop thinking about every moment you and Dina spent together. Everything was so… good. It was filled with happiness. You anticipated every day that came because it meant you’d see her. 
“Alright?” 
You look up at Ellie’s call. You ignore her. 
“Am I emoting well?” You snicker sarcastically. You’re aching inside. 
She studies you, all over your face, but you’re stunted. You don’t know what to say.
“Yes.” She whispers, and you nod, mind wandering to the darkest parts of your memory. You miss being happy. The camera’s flashing, but you’re unperturbed. How much will you be able to ruin before you die? If your wallowing is jeopardizing the shot, Ellie doesn’t comment on it. You focus on the clock ticks coming from the kitchen. 
Ellie’s gentle voice pulls you from underwater after a while, “Okay… I think that’s it.” Your breath is ragged and your fingers won’t stop twitching. You’re up from your seat with a breathy okay, sliding into the kitchen and stealing a water bottle from the fridge. There’s cluttering behind you but you’re desperately downing your drink. 
She's closer than you think. Right behind you, actually! You almost choke when her hand softly closes around your bicep.
“Hey, um… You okay?”
You swallow harshly and nod, blinking away tears; She’s so close, “Love fucking sucks.” You joke wetly. 
A laugh that caresses your ears escapes her, “Damn. Fuck that shit, then.” 
“Finally, someone gets it! Fuck, like…” You set your water down and wipe away heavy droplets with your free arm. Ellie’s eyes travel over your face, lands of green sparkling in her pupils. 
“I really appreciate you doing this for me.” She whispers. 
“Of course!” Your smile is delicate, “I hope there’s something in there you can use.” 
Her head shakes, smile as gentle as rose petals, “I got it, trust me.” 
The silence that follows is heavy, your breaths in sync. “Was… Are you okay?” You’ve never seen her eyes this delicate. You nod, eyes dropping to her mouth on instinct. You’re suddenly back in your car, you and Ellie leaning over the center console to get to each other. Her breath is hitting your face again, and you’re itching for her to kiss you. 
She’s reading your body language the closer she gets, checking in, memorizing every green light you’re giving her. 
“Ellie…” You can’t even hear yourself. Her hand unravels from your arm, frosting your sizzling cheek like snowflakes. Her warmth is engulfing you, and with one last breath, her lips connect with yours. It's short lasting, though. Ellie pulls away, shock plastered on her face. 
She's stuttering and slowly backing away… or something like that. You’re not listening, nor do you want an apology. You grab the drawstring dangling from her gray hoodie and yank her closer, mouth pressing against hers. 
Ellie’s stiffness melts, weightless against you as your mouths mold together. She's sighing, arm wrapping around your waist, warmth simmering between your closed bodies. Your arms wrap around her neck as she inches forward, small steps until you're pressed against the marble. 
The kiss is slow and steady. You both give in to each other, studying, memorizing every inch of her mouth. Gentle smacks sound in the silent space of the kitchen, clammy hands traveling anywhere they can reach: the nape of her neck, massages on your hips, steadying your stumbles as you push against her. Your fingers inch upwards until they're at her sloppily done bun, loosening the hair tie and pulling as gently as you can, soft strands wrapping around your digits like vines. 
Ellie’s humming and her hips push against you, so you pull again, smiling gently into the kiss. She pushes again, harder this time, hips languid as they trap you against the counter. Your thighs widen for her, and she takes the lead, hands digging into your thighs and lifting you onto the granite. 
The kiss turns desperate swiftly after, Ellie’s tongue pushing past your mouth, her hands slowly pulling your tucked shirt from your pants. You’re biting at her lip, caressing her thighs over her sweats, trapping her between your legs, keeping her close. 
One last wet smack and you’re traveling down her jaw to the side of her neck, littering kisses all over her burning skin. You try not to make your inhales too obvious, but you can’t help it. Her scent drives you up a wall. 
She follows your lead, trailing sloppy kisses down your neck, sucking the skin, lightly scratching at the skin on your hips. She yanks you closer, nearly sitting you on top of her, ass barely on the counter—
KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!
You both jolt like you’ve been caught, a thin line of spit connecting your bottom lips. 
“Expecting someone?” She mumbles dazedly, and you silently deny. “Are you?” 
“Be serious.” She says flatly. 
KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK! 
The pounds on the door aren’t shit to Ellie, apparently; Her lips are back on you in a second. A gasp surges through you, “Oh, fuck! What if someone saw Pickle and they’re tryna— “
“She’ll be fine,” she whines between suckles on your throat. 
You whimper wantonly, but the knocks get aggressive. It has to be Carol! You don’t want Ellie to stop, but you push her.
“E—Ellie— “
She releases you with an annoyed huff, giving you enough room to hop off the counter. Scratches and meows alert you once more, and you run to the front door, whisper-yelling to Ellie, “Hide Pickle! Hide her!”
“Okay, okay, damn,” She sighs in annoyance, heading back down the hallway. You can hear Ellie’s soft shushes to the kitty, meows swiftly replaced with purrs. You think Pickle has chosen her favorite parent. 
You yank the door open and your heart plummets. 
“Hey, uh… hi.” Abby’s voice cracks and her nose is glowing red. Your heart pulls in your chest at the sight of her soft eyes. 
“Hi, Abby,” You say softly. She shyly peers at her feet. “How are you?”
A soft smile spreads across her face, “I’m not here to talk about me, I wanna apologize. I, um… I wanted to call but I thought I’d do it in person.” 
“No need. I’m sorry, to— “
But Abby isn’t having it, dropping onto one knee in the middle of the complex hallway, taking your hand in hers, “Oh, how I treated Thee, for I am full of regret. What do I owe Thou the pleasure of forgiveness?” 
You holler laughter, “Bitch, is that a question? What the fuck do I say to that.” 
“… I actually don’t know, what the fuck— “
“You’re actually the fucking worst, get up,” You’re pulling your friend to her feet and wrapping your arms around her neck, pressing light kisses to her cheek. She lifts you and carries you inside, kicking the door shut. 
“Was it Carol?” 
You barely hear your roommate from behind you. Abby sets you down, and you’re met with a… blank Ellie. This version of her is almost unfamiliar. 
“Hm?”
“Was,” Her eyes flicker towards your friend, “Was it Carol?” Your eyes flicker to Abby, confused as ever. 
“Um, no, thank God, right?” You laugh awkwardly, “Ellie, this is Abby. Abby, this is Ellie, my new roomie.” 
Abby slaps on her signature smile, extending her hand in greeting, “Nice to meet you. I heard a lot.”
Ellie’s eyes flicker between Abby’s hand and her face, eyes squinted. She only nods before murmuring to you, “Pickle’s fed. Lock the door if you leave.” 
Your mouth drops, but before you can say anything, Ellie’s door slams shut, lock clicking, barricading herself, shut off from the outside. Pickle scurries into your open space at the noise. A stunned Abby finally drops her hand and turns to you with an expression reading I told you so. Your heart jolts and it’s painful. 
“C’mon,” Abby coos, hands massaging your shoulders, “I owe you pancakes.” 
You try to smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. Not like it should at the mention of a free meal. For some reason, you feel guilty. 
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IHOP needs to have their holiday menus all year round; These cinnamon roll pancakes are fucking lethal! You shoved your platter down and already want seconds. Abby’s too sweet to you. 
“Abby.” 
“Hm?” She gnaws at her turkey bacon. 
“I’m in a predicament.” 
“What’s the matter.” 
“I think I like Ellie.” 
Your friend pauses before sighing, “Alright. So, what’s the plan?” 
“To die, I think. That’s the only plan.” 
“Don’t say that,” she chuckles. You shrug. 
“We made out and I liked it,” You whisper, “Like, a lot.” 
“Did y’all smash?” You shake your head. 
“Are you gonna tell her?” 
You scoff, “Did you miss the part where I said to die? I’d rather die. She hates my fucking guts all over again.” 
“I don’t think she does.” 
“You don’t know her, Abby— “
“I know a jealous munch when I see one,” She smirks, “I was one for a long time.” 
Your jaw drops, “Really? With who?” 
She grins, but it doesn’t meet her eyes, “Don’t worry about it.” 
You pout. Why didn’t she tell you?! Poor thing. You place a comforting hand on top of hers.
“Promise to tell me before graduation. I need some shit to look forward to.” 
“Like you’re gonna remember.” 
“Fuck off! I never forget anything!” 
“Yeah, anyway, your roomie was jealous— “
Your shoulders drop and your eyes roll. Ellie and jealousy? Together? Bullshit. Tomfoolery. Fake news. 
“Abby, I can't tell her— “
“Can’t or won’t?” Abby arches a brow, “You know what you do and don’t want. You’re creating stupid rules that combat your feelings and wonder why you end up hurt. Cut it out.” 
… Either face your fears of abandonment or die alone. Interesting ultimatum. You choose the latter. 
“You’re very easy to read, believe it or not. You like her. Accept it or move on,” Abby mumbles around her extra-crispy hash brown. 
You sigh. You’ve accepted it a long time ago; That's the issue. The only thing that can help you right now is more fucking cinnamon roll pancakes. Abby better leave this apology tab open. 
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You’re hit with the usual warmth of the apartment the second you step in, finding Ellie on the couch with her feet kicked up, mindlessly fiddling with your favorite pen. Her silence makes your skin crawl; You never know what she’s thinking. 
“So, what,” You shrug, setting your to-go bag on the counter, “Are you just gonna pout or are we gonna have an adult conversation?” 
“I don’t think you’re capable of that,” She mumbles. 
“What does that mean?” 
“It means what it sounds like. You’re fucking immature and inconsiderate.” 
Your heart nearly stops, “I’m— “
She slices through your words, “Save that I don’t know what you mean bullshit for someone else. If you and that bitch are still fucking, why the fuck did you kiss me?” 
Her accusation makes you snap, “First of all, I haven’t fucked Abby in weeks! And even if I did, that’s none of your fucking business! I can do whatever the fuck I want and I don’t need to explain myself to you! And you kissed me first so don’t start!” 
A grin grows on Ellie face, head tipping back onto the couch as she laughs to herself, sighing in disbelief, “I never thought I would regret a kiss so much in my fucking life, oh my god.” 
You scoff, ignoring the sudden ache in your chest, “Fuck you.” 
“You want to.” 
You hate how heat builds in your stomach, “I want to?” You snark, “You shoved your tongue in my mouth a few hours ago. You want to. Don’t fucking piss me off.” 
You stomp to your room before Ellie can say anything above her laughter. Your door slams and you pace across your small room. You ignore the stress building deep in your joints; The term is almost over. You don’t need this fucking bullshit on your back right now! 
To think you and Ellie were starting to get on good terms. If she wants to play that game, then fine; You’ve mastered the sport at this point! The kiss meant nothing to you either!
You hope her Christmas is fucking awful and she finds nothing but a pile of fucking rocks in her marijuana sock. What a cunt—
Meow! Meow!
Your heart pulls at the small scratches at your door. You need your baby to give you some love since a certain someone won’t. Pickle calls out until you open the door, but your sad smile disappears at the sight of that someone propped against your door frame. 
“She wanted her mommy.” Ellie nods down at the kitten rubbing against your leg. 
“Fuck you.” You spit. 
“Fuck you.” 
“Fuck you!” You shout and lean closer, but she doesn’t seem threatened. That same sparkle in her eye is back, and, suddenly, your body’s flaming for another reason. The tip of her nose twitches, once, twice, three times, and you refuse to hold back any longer. 
You grab her face and kiss her. Kiss her as hard as you can. She’s so fucking aggravating; Why can’t she ever mind her fucking business? You’re sick of her clocking your pussy! The kiss is hot and quick and it sends vibrations down to your toes. It’s not until gentle purring fills your ears that you gasp and separate from your roommate. 
You bend down to pick up your little princess. Ellie’s lips reconnect with your neck the second you're upright. “Did she eat?” You mutter. 
“Mhm. Twice.” You nod and kiss her small, furry head, “She’s gonna be scratching at the door.” You ponder to yourself. 
“We’ll make it quick,” She mumbles in between harsh sucks to your throat, nibbles at your lobe. You escape the attention for a split second to grab Pickle’s small toy mouse from your dresser, tossing it down the hall and into the living room. Her small paws skip across the floor as she slides the trinket all over the hardwood. 
“We’re not fucking.” You say harsher than necessary. 
“I didn’t ask.”
You gently shut the door and jump Ellie’s bones, releasing all your pent-up frustration and anger into another kiss. The formerly gentle tugs of her hair are replaced with harsh yanks that expose her throat. Seconds pass and she’s pushing you onto your unmade bed, body bouncing before she climbs on top of you, reconnecting your mouths in the sloppiest kiss you’ve ever shared… It’s doing something to your cooter, though. You’re wet as fuck. 
Ellie’s fully onto top of you, body almost overheating from the layers of clothes between you. Her hips are sharp when they push into yours, swallowing all your stunned gasps and pleasured sighs. Your body is on fire and it’s making you lightheaded, but she feels so good on top. 
Ellie’s cursing against your mouth and she bucks into you, right against the muscle of your thigh, and you just watch the flames spread in her orbs. Not the comforting greenery that you could get lost in for days. The trees are black and surrounded by clustered rubble. She’s grunting against your cheek, her nose hitting yours with every thrust. 
A bold hand creeps between both your bodies and slips right into her wrinkly sweats, beneath her underwear, fingers drenched in seconds. You smirk when she whimpers your name between swears, palming the bud that throbs like a beating heart. Blush tints her cheeks the wetter she gets, pooling in your hand as you grind into her clit. 
Ellie’s cute. You’ll give her that. So, you rub her harder. 
“Agh, fuck, fuck— “
You're snickering to yourself but Ellie doesn’t care. She’s whining like a little bitch and humping you like a dog… 
Does she top? You should ask her after this. Post-nut gay quiz. 
“Finger me, put your— oh shit— “
“Hmm…” You suck your teeth, “Nah.” 
She glares down at you, leaving fiery holes in your cheek, “Don’t f—fucking piss me off right now.” 
You halt all your movements. “That’s all you’ve been doing since you got in this bitch. Shut the fuck up and take what I give you…” You pause, “Or get the fuck off me. Your choice.” 
A full one-eighty, truly. How she goes from looking at you with intent to kill to a wounded puppy in seconds. Poor thing wants a treat. Your entire hand is drenched in her juices; She can wait a little longer. 
“You ate my fucking Doritos.” 
“W—What?” She sounds like she’s going to cry. You can’t stop smiling. 
Slow circles on her clit, and her body wracks on top of you, “The ones I hid in the cabinet… Nasty little thief. Gonna buy me some more?” 
Her breathing is so rapid, “You’re so s—stupid fuck— “ 
“You’re gonna do more than that… gonna show me what’s in that fucking portfolio like you promised.” You whisper, hot against her face. 
This is the strangest dirty talk you’ve ever partaken in, but Ellie’s losing it on top of you. She hasn’t shut up yet. She’s hiding her face in your neck, words vibrating against your skin. You don’t know what she said, so you stop again. She sobs. 
You sound sweeter than candy, “What was that?” 
Ellie doesn’t answer. Just pants into your skin. You pat her clit a few times and she jerks to attention. “I asked you a question.” 
“Feels,” She heaves, “Feels so fucking good— “
“I didn’t ask you that.”
“I’ll show you — fuck, okay? Okay, okay, m’so close— “
Your thumb brushes against her clit, “I wanna see it after you nut.” 
She gasps words miles per minute, “I promise, Ipromise, touch me keep touching me— “
Ellie attempts to grind into your hand once more, but you stretch, slippery fingers sliding lower until the tip of your index catches onto her pulsing hole. You can barely hear, but she’s begging. Thank God you trimmed your nails. 
You push in gently, Ellie’s teeth grazing the skin right underneath your ear. A shiver runs down your spine. She grins before biting down on it. You moan into the boiling air. Your finger gets swallowed by her walls; She’s so fucking tight and soft and she’s clenching with every moan, your thighs squeezing around her hips. 
Ellie continues to grind on top of you, practically riding your finger, her moans increasing in volume. 
“E-Ellie, look at me, sit up—“ She doesn’t hesitate, clammy forehead resting on yours as you stare into her glossy, lustful eyes. They’re fluttering with every deep grind of your arched digit and your heart skips a beat. 
“Gimme one more, stretch me out,” she exhales onto your lips
“Sure?” You breathe. 
She groans, “Yeah, fuck, m’gonna cum when you do— “
“You gotta cute face,” you whisper and giggle when her eyes squeeze shut in embarrassment, middle finger popping past the small entrance 
“Fuck, babe, s’right there— “
Your walls clench at the name. Now you’re whining, “Gimme it. Hurry up so I can play with my kid.” 
“O-Our fucking kid—“ She chokes. 
You hum playfully, “Oddly domestic. Is this what marriage is like? Quickies in the laundry room when the baby’s watching Cocomelon?” 
“No — fuck, do you ever shut the fuck up?” You can’t even move from hard her walls are choking you, “M’cumming, Jesus fucking— son of a— “
Ellie’s walls grip your fingers as she trembles on top of you, lips crashing onto yours as she groans in your mouth, and you smile. You should’ve spit on her tongue, but you held back. She’s not ready. Fucking gremlin. 
Her orgasm rocks her into exhaustion, her body going completely limp on top of you as her hips twitch into your touch. You stare up at the ceiling, mind racing. 
You technically didn’t fuck! Your pussy is quite convincing. You didn’t, but you want to! 
“We didn’t fuck.” You mumble. 
She huffs dryly, voice low. Here comes the goosebumps! “Sure.” 
“We didn’t,” you bemoan and pull out, slick smearing on both your clothes before you present the wet digits in front of your face. Ellie finally lifts her head to join the inspection of your drenched, wrinkly fingers. She smells good. 
“Go wash your hands,” she croaks. 
“Mind your business.” You suck them clean and she snorts, rolling off and onto the bed. You sit up to open the door for Pick-Pick, but Ellie grabs your bicep. 
“What?” 
“You… You don’t want to…?” 
You look around blankly. 
“Do you want me to do something… like an exchange?” 
You’re not sure how to answer, but thankfully, curious meows and light scratching distract the both of you. You’re moving like a robot into the living room, Ellie right on your tail, cooing at the baby who rubs all over her. 
You take a seat on the… lavender-scented cushion. She bought a new freshener. 
“Ellie.” 
“What.” 
“I don’t like you.” 
A scoff from her, “I don’t care.” 
You pause. “… Wanna sniff my punani?” You mock. 
She takes a seat, swiftly followed by Pickle, and turns her head in your direction, lip between her teeth, “Can I?” 
“What.” 
“Just a whiff.” She hums between snickers. The sensors in your brain are on fire. Ellie is so confusing. 
You scratch your ear, stealing her habit, “You… You want to?” 
She grabs your discarded pen from the coffee table, “You want me to?” 
Yes. “No.” 
Ellie nods and continues to fiddle with it, obnoxiously clicking it over and over. She doesn’t fight you on it. How embarrassing. You really need head. 
Your eyes meet your sock-covered feet, “… I was just kidding,” You mumble. 
More pen clicking. “Come here for a second.” Your feet carry you at her grumble, plopping down onto the lavender-scented cushion. New freshener. 
“Is this gonna be… a regular thing?” 
Your head shakes a ton. It most definitely will not. You can’t take your eyes off how Ellie flips her pen. Her hands are bewitching. You need them in your throat again. 
“I think we… just needed to get it out of our system?” You suggest. Unfortunately, it seems neither of you are convinced. 
Pickle climbs up your sweatshirt, head rubbing against your chin. You peck her nose, “Why do you think that.” Ellie asks. 
“I’m not fucking someone I live with.” Your words are blunt, but Ellie doesn’t seem shaken by them. 
“Why.” 
“Because.” You say with finality. 
She sighs, “Because you’re scared of getting your feelings hurt by someone you care about again?” 
The bomb she drops is unexpected, but causes even more damage. Your shoulders immediately tense, on guard, “What the fuck…” How did she…
Ellie winces, “Don’t uh… don’t be mad…” 
“Why the fuck— how do you even know that?” 
“Dina told me.” She blurts and you jump from your seat, glowering at the girl who sheepishly taps her fingers on the couch. 
“The fuck do you mean Dina told you— “
More word-vomit. How long was she holding this shit from you? “S-She was my roommate. She’s the reason I got evicted— “
Your throat is closing, “…Is this a fucking joke?”
Ellie cowers at your tone, “Not really.” 
“When the fuck were you going to tell me that you’re friends with my fucking ex?!”
“We’re not friends!” She says meekly. “And you weren’t official— “
“It doesn’t fucking matter, Ellie! What the fuck!” Your efforts of holding tears back fail, as usual. You’re sick of crying in front of this broad. “She fu—fucking ruined my life!” The stares you get will never fail to make you sick. 
Ellie’s eyes remind you of glass. Breakable. You holler through sniffles, “Is that why you called me a fucking slut! Because that bitch told you some fake ass, fucked-up story about me whoring around campus?!” 
“Dude, I’m— “
“I fucked over the sweetest fucking girl on campus, right? The world’s best fucking pitcher got her heart broken by some low-life fucking artist with no future!” You rant until your breath is short, “I was fucking in love with her! I-I wanted to be with her, I would’ve died for her! I’m— “
Your hands desperately grasp at your chest to get your heart to ease the knocking against your ribcage. 
“You think I-I’m fucking easy, right? That’s why you came onto me earlier? ‘Cuz I’m a fucking whore?! A desperate sl—slut with no self-worth— “
The space you found comfort in is rapidly filling with darkness; You’re being sucked into a void of nothing and you can’t think. Ellie doesn’t move, just stares over you with feeble pupils, hand clutched around that pen, the end of it leaving an indent in her sweats. 
Pickle plops down onto your feet as you cry. You take her into your arms and hold her as close as possible, scurrying into your room. You fall back against the door and it slams, sliding down the wood as Kit-Kat nuzzles your chin. She’s the sweetest fucking thing in the world. How could such an angel be left in the snow to die? 
Time moves in a blur as you weep. Your mom would’ve held you if she were here. 
What you would give for some parental guidance. You almost called your father. 
Almost. 
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Click, click, click, click, click—
One, two, three, four. Breathe in, Breathe out. Five, six—
Thank God for your fucking custom pen. The noise is enough to distract her from breaking down in your tiny living room. She should’ve snagged Pickle before you did; She needs a fucking hug. 
Ellie hates being yelled at. More than anything. More than you. God, she fucking despises you. 
You look and sound nothing like her mother, but you’re oddly alike. She pondered whether or not that was the reason she was drawn to you; She always finds herself trapped in spaces with fucking deflectors. 
She hasn’t even begun editing the photos from earlier. At this point, she doesn’t even want to use them. It’s a shame your eyes are so expressive; She would’ve burned the pictures she took of you the second you left with that bitch if she wasn’t so crunched for time. She needs to submit them so she can get the fuck out of here. 
You’d be an excellent actress; You have emotions down pact on camera. The dark part of her brain convinced her that you were thinking of her with that doting, yearnful look in your eye. 
The photography company keeps sending her emails about completing her work profile and her fucking portfolio submission. That’s the only form of motivation she has left, and even then, she hasn’t revisited those photos. She doesn’t have much time to make them perfect. 
Ellie swallows the lump in her throat over and over, thumb pressing down, down, down. She can’t stop clicking your fucking pen. Just don’t cry. 
Your sobs almost get her there, almost push her over the edge, but she shuts her eyes and counts each click, matching them with every heave she releases. You, somehow, sound just like her fucking mom. 
And Ellie, despite the backwards relationship between the two of you, still fucking kissed you. She should’ve died right there in front of you. What a fucking joke. 
But she couldn’t stop. She didn’t want to. She’s never experienced affection like that; It was passionate and made her itch with a desire she hasn’t felt in a long time. All she wants is for someone to love her, hold her like you did, touch her like you did. She’s never felt that euphoric in her life, never witnessed so many bright colors at once. 
Whoever told her being alone was easy was a fucking liar. No one should wake up and want to die every day, so why does she? Everyone thinks she prefers silence, but she doesn’t. Ellie craves contact in all forms. In any form. Desperately. 
Why did it have to be you? Why the fuck did it have to be you. 
Her brain is telling her she can’t wait to move out, so why is her heart amidst decay whenever she thinks about it? She’s going to suffocate in here, so she rises, pen still in hand, and snags her puffer and beanie from the couch. Her feet shove into her boots and she’s out, the front door slamming shut. She didn’t even bother to lock it. 
Ellie takes the stairs and leaves the building on autopilot, no destination in mind. Just stomping through the splintering cold like a fucking yeti. Every breath oxidizes in a cloud before her as she recalls where she fumbled with you. 
Dina. 
Ellie’s cold hands frost her face as she wipes it, making sharp turns and stumbling on ice. She wants to go home; She misses her dad. 
Dina seems to be the only thing you two have in common. You both might hate her more than each other. The horror she felt when her ex-roommate taped that eviction notice on her door is incomparable. Ellie was a struggling entrepreneur and practically fucking homeless overnight. All because Dina’s new fucking side piece. 
Ellie and Dina, friends. Wait until she tells you about how she almost beat her and her girlfriend’s ass. If you’re even willing to listen at this point. 
Ellie continues to walk, hands tucked under her armpits. At least she’s not simmering anymore in her rage anymore. She blocks down the way when she realizes she forgot her fucking phone. This would’ve been a perfect time to cry to her old man. 
You’re not out of Ellie’s system at all. You’ve, unfortunately, claimed residency inside of her. 
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You’re scribbling with spilled wine on your shirt, outside noise muffled by the plugs in your ears. You don't recall leaving your room, grabbing a bottle and downing its contents, but the remnants of broken glass acts as a decent reminder. 
Your hand is cramping from its grip on a new pen, but you can’t stop gliding the tip across the sixth sheet of printer paper. You hate what you’re drawing; The details are perfect, inked scratches practically muscle memory, and you despise it. It’s always her.
You’re going to be alone for a very long time. You’re too destructive for companionship, you’ve learned. How ironic: the one aspect of life you crave is becoming your demise, and your downfall is going to be tortuous. Recovery is never long lasting for you. 
So, you sketch. And scratch. And erase, start again, hoping, praying, for an outcome that doesn’t feel so lost. You’re destroyed and desperate to find comfort. Was your father right when he called you sick at age twelve? Maybe something is truly wrong with you. Maybe one of the reasons why you constantly push and mask and hide. 
Every insecurity you’ve garnered in high school is flourishing in adulthood, thick as vines and as strong as tree bark. Deflection is an art that you’ve mastered out of preservation; Too bad it’s trapped you in isolation. 
The green in Ellie’s eyes holds stories. Somehow, this month feels like centuries. Centuries of studying the mass area of blossoming, healthy land beneath her pupils. Her eyes are sacred, almost too sacred to manipulate, but you draw them anyway. 
You want to touch her again. You want her to touch you. Just one last time. You’re already a fucking failure; One last mistake wouldn’t hurt. 
A teardrop musses the paper, so you scrap it like the others and start again. Ellie’s eyes are too pretty to be smudged. 
You can’t stay here anymore. You hope Amaya understands. You hope Ellie understands. 
You’d give anything to be able to call your mother. 
You hear the front door open and close for the hundredth time tonight, followed by swift clicks of a pen. Guilt floods your system. You peer at a sleeping Pickle on your mattress before standing, opening your door to see Ellie entering hers. Your intoxicated brain notes the sex lighting in her room; Red LED. You talk before thinking. 
“I didn’t mean to yell at you.” She jumps and turns at your cracked voice, eyes red. She smoked; you can smell it. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to— “
“I’m submitting my portfolio in the morning. I’ll be out by Christmas.” She says, monotone. Lifeless. 
A dry huff escapes your closed throat. Your heart is breaking. Just a little, “I guess, uh… I can’t see it anymore, huh?” She doesn’t answer. 
“Do you regret taking those pictures?” She mumbles.
You don't hesitate, “Not at all.”
She nods. The silence that follows is thick, weighing at both of your shoulders, holding you in place. Ellie’s breathing is finally steady, and it’s calming. 
“Go to bed.” She whispers before entering her room, gently shutting it behind her. Some tears fall before you follow her lead. 
Pickle is sitting on the edge of your bed, just watching you. You smile sadly and whisper, “At least you love me, right?” 
A gentle blink from her. You sob; Another pair of green eyes to bring you comfort. 
“I love you, too.” 
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all444miles · 9 months
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— IN HER OWN LIL’ WORLD
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— paring: e!42 miles x black!fem!reader
— genre: fluff
— summary: you can chat for the world, so you tell it all to none other than your boyfriend.
— a/n: the way this is a self insert bc when i tell u i can CHATTTTTT 😭 this is pretty much inspired by the song “love is only a feeling” (hence the title, that “she’s so perfect in her lil world”) so you might see a bit of lyric references in it. writing ts at 2am got me TIRED than a mf, but enjoy !!
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You were a natural talker. You could talk for hours without getting tired. You could talk for the whole world, even. So you tell everything you want to say to your world, Miles. Miles loved everything about you. But when you would talk to him non-stop, and the way you’d articulate your words? Made his whole day.
“She came up to me tryna start sum, and you know I wouldn’t take that shi, so I had to deal wit her.” you explained, sitting on your boyfriend’s lap, his hands on your waist, as you continued to tell the story you had been telling Miles about for the past 26 minutes.
“Mami, you fought her?” he asked, his head cocking to the side and his eyebrows furrowed. “Das crazy, ain’t I said if you got a problem tell me?” You never really knew how, but whenever a person would cause you problems, Miles would always find a way to sort it out.
You tried to think to yourself, before you realised what he said to you just a ago week ago, catching your breath as you did so.
“Aight ma, after that fight, if you got any more beef wit somebody, for a good reason, you come to me, you heard?”
“Oh yeah..” you could hear a soft sigh coming from Miles and watched as he slightly shook his head, which made you smile. “That’s my bad. But she still deserved that shit.”
“So ima take it you won? Or else ima be even more annoyed.” he questioned you, raising an eyebrow, engaging himself more into the conversation.
You chuckled at his question, and your answer made him grin. “Of course I did! You ain’t never gon see me lose a fight.”
“That’s my girl. Now, tell me the rest.” you smiled at Miles as he waited for you to continue. You were always a talkative person, and Miles would always be the one to listen.
“You sure I ain’t talking yo ear off, baby?” you laughed quietly as you spoke, feeling the slightest bit self-conscious that you were talking too much. Miles, however, laughed at what you said.
“Mami, you always do, but I love it.”
“Ahora, no dejes que te detenga amor, sigue hablándome.” (Now, don't let me stop you love, keep talking to me.)
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© all444miles 2023. do not plagerize, copy, or repost my work in any way shape or form, without my permission.
likes, reblogs, comments and asks are always appreciated !
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harunayuuka2060 · 2 months
Text
༘⋆-ˋˏLyric Prank ༘⋆-ˋˏ
*In NRC's Groupchat*
Leona: @MC Brown guilty eyes and little white lies, yeah
MC: ...
Ace: 🍵
Deuce: ^
Ruggie: Prefect, what did you do?
MC: Nothing?
Leona: Yeah, I played dumb but I always knew
MC: Huh?
Leona: That you'd talk to him, maybe did even worse
Leona: I kept quiet so I could keep you
MC: ...
MC: Nah, guys. This isn't Leona. He wouldn't say shit like this.
Ruggie: ROFL 🤣
Leona: And ain't it funny
Leona: How you ran to him
Leona: The second that we called it quits?
Ace: YOU TWO BROKE UP?!!
Deuce: 😲
MC: ...
MC: We're not even in a relationship.
MC: Right?
Ruggie: Shishishi why are you asking us?
Leona: And ain't it funny
Leona: How you said you were friends?
Leona: Now it sure as hell don't look like it
Ace: Yeah. Like I don't believe MC either whenever they said they're only friends with Malleus. 🙄
MC: Wha—
Malleus: Why are you bullying the child of man?
Ace: Here comes the savior.
Malleus: ???
Leona: You betrayed me
Leona: And I know that you'll never feel sorry
Leona: For the way I hurt, yeah
Leona: You'd talk to him
Leona: When we were together
Leona: Loved you at your worst
Leona: But that didn't matter
MC: I'm
MC: In
MC: Confusion 😵‍💫
Ace: 🤥
Malleus: I should be the one feeling that way, Kingscholar.
MC: 😭 What?
Ace: Yeah! You're a manizer!
MC: 🧍
Ruggie: 🤣🤣🤣
Deuce: 😂😂😂
Leona: It took you two weeks
Leona: To go off and date him
Leona: Guess you didn't cheat
Leona: But you're still a traitor
Ace: See? SEE?!!
Ace: THIS IS WHAT I'M TELLING YOU!
Ace: SETTLE
Ace: WITH
Ace: ONE!
MC: You never tell me anything the fuck?
Malleus: It seems like a good advice, child of man.
MC: 😞
Leona: Now you bring him around
Leona: Just to shut me down
Leona: Show him off like he's a new trophy
Ace: @Vil
Vil: Why did you @ me, potato 1?
Malleus: Hello, Schoenheit. Is the child of man showing you off to everyone?
Vil: Hm?
Vil: ...
Vil: They didn't need to.
Vil: I'm the fairest of all.
MC: 👑
Vil: Anyway, what is this drama, Leona?
Leona: And I know if you were true
Leona: There's no damn way that you
Leona: Could fall in love with somebody that quickly
Ace: 🧢
Deuce: 🧢
Ruggie: 🧢
Epel: 🧢
MC: You guys—
Epel: You're playing Mystic Messenger.
Epel: That's enough proof.
Idia: ROFL YOU PLAYING THAT?
MC: ...
Malleus: What does 🧢 mean?
Ace: Lies.
Malleus: Oh. Then. This is for you, child of man.
Malleus: 🧢
MC: ...
MC: 😠
Leona: Ain't it funny
Leona: All the twisted games
Leona: All the questions you used to avoid?
Leona: Ain't it funny?
Leona: Remember I brought him up
Leona: And you told me I was paranoid
Ruggie: @MC you had a death wish?
MC: 🧍
MC: No?
Vil: Potato? You said that to him?
MC: No!
Leona: You betrayed me
And I know that you'll never feel sorry
For the way I hurt, yeah
You'd talk to him
When we were together
Loved you at your worst
But that didn't matter
It took you two weeks
To go off and date him
Guess you didn't cheat
But you're still a traitor
MC: ...
MC: Leona, seriously, what did I do? 🥹
Leona: God, I wish that you had thought this through
Leona: Before I went and fell in love with you
MC: ...
Rook: Le gasp!
Vil: Rook?
Rook: Roi du Leon! What a way to confess your feelings!
Leona: Tch.
Ace: That's a confession?
Deuce: But you're acting like MC already cheated on you
Leona: Don't they?
Leona: They like many guys
MC: I'm in a school full of handsome and precious men
MC: What do you want me to do? 😭
Vil: And there's nothing wrong with that, potato, as long as you're not seducing them
Ruggie: But Leona wants to be seduced
MC: 🧍
MC: ...
MC: You could've said so?
Ace: Yo! Manizer!
Vil: What?
Malleus: ^
Leona: I'm done here.
*Leona went offline.*
MC: I swear @Ace, if someone calls me "manizer", say 👋 to your freedom
Idia: Lololololol
Idia: Manizer.
MC: ...
MC: ACE.
Ace: It's not my fault!
Deuce: 🤣🤣🤣
Ruggie: 🤣🤣🤣
Epel: 🤣🤣🤣
Vil: 😮‍💨
Rook: ☺️
Malleus: Kingscholar should know how to confess properly.
Idia: Breakup thoughts >
MC: 💀
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