#all your punctuation and stuff stays the same

[wow-an-unfunny-joke]

Alphabetizing-posts is the only gimmick blog im actually afraid of. Its so creepy- Those are YOUR WORDS out of order! They’re taking your post- your words straight from out of your brain- it’s spooky. Out of any gimmick blog, they scare me.

[sigweiner]

⌁₊˚ Shiver ˚₊⌁ {P2}

Pairing: Jinx x Fem!/Gnc!/Reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Summary: You seek advice with an acquaintance before 'reconciling' with Jinx on Silco's office desk. Bonus fluff with Isha in the end.

Warnings!: fluff, smut, swearing, angst, t06!c relationship, substance use, mentions of dark ses and physical stuff.

a/n: I'm working on part 3 and 4 bc I had so much fun writing this. Also, I appreciate everyone that interacts with my posts ♡. English is not my first language, sorry for the weird punctuation and sentences. Minors and creeps dni.

{P1} {P3}

You haven't shown up at the hideout in a week. You've been staying at different places every day since that night as to prevent Jinx from tracking you down, even though you didn't believe she would try to since you were a major jerk to her after what was probably her first time with someone ever. You’ve been punishing yourself for that too even though you weren’t entirely sure you were her first. You’ve been drinking yourself to sleep every night since then. The irony in this whole situation is that that party was supposed to cheer you up and bring you out of gloomsville but it only managed to sink you further into a dark hole.

Maybe you should apologize and try to understand what really happened, but you’re pretty sure she’ll try to blow your head off after psychologically torturing you but at the same time you can’t keep up like this, it’s exhausting. So you think of the only person you know with a semblance of knowledge and that you can go fish for advice. Getting up from the dirty floor you slept on, you throw on your hooded cloak to go meet her and start to move through the shadows of the dirty zaunite streets without being noticed by anybody until you reach an alley where three people are sitting around a wooden crate, drinking, smoking and playing cards.

Sevika has a cigarette in her mouth and grins wickedly at the hand she’s been dealt. You try to figure out a way to alert her of your presence but in no time she’s throwing cards on the table and collecting her winnings for the night. She doesn't linger so you follow her around the maze of streets and alleyways. She keeps looking back, checking if anybody is following her, her instincts probably warning her that someone actually is. She stops to light another cigar and rests her back on a nearby wall so you take the opportunity to come out of the shadows, appearing in front of her.

“Damn, you look like death itself.” She says with a raised eyebrow. “Came to finish the job after all?” But there’s no real concern to her voice.

“Can we um… talk?” You ask, uncertain about how you’re going to bring this about with Sevika, of all people.

“Talk? You sure you’re not confusing me with someone else?” She lets out a dark chuckle and you roll your eyes at her reaction, she wasn’t about to make this easy for you.

“Yeah… have you uh… seen Jinx lately?” You hate how insecure you sound, being this vulnerable is making you want to give up and bolt.

“Jinx huh? Aren’t you two practically glued to each other?” She asks with an amused smirk on her face.

“We had a fight. No, actually I fucked up…” You say looking down at the floor. Sevika lets out a laugh.

“Well that’s not unheard of coming from you.” She teases. You sigh heavily and shake your head but you kind of deserve it. “She’s been looking for you, y’know?” Sevika says seriously now. You look up at her surprised to hear this piece of information.

“Really? Is she still mad? Do you think I should go back to the hideout?” You blurt out, hope growing in your chest.

“Slow down kid. Listen, I'm not gonna tell you what to do. Especially because I don't give a damn about your little lovers quarrel.” She starts explaining her line of thought before taking a break to puff out her cigar. “What I'm going to tell you is this: that crazy girl is obsessed with you and that kid. She's been nagging me about helping her find you this entire week. Which I don't appreciate one bit. So for the sake of my sanity and both of your safety, you should go and take care of this.” She finishes with an annoyed look but you appreciate her words greatly.

“We're not lov-” You star to retort but she gives you a death glare which makes you halt. “Okay fine, I’ll take care of it.” You tell her earnestly.

“Good.” She pushes herself off of the wall and throws the remains of her cigar on the floor. “Now fuck off, Shiv.” That's the first time you ever hear her call you by your alias which brings you a sense of respect. You chuckle, starting to disappear in the shadows.

“Thanks, Sevika.” Your disembodied voice reverberates through the empty alley.

“Tsk, creepy kid.” Is the last thing you hear her say from a distance before you turn around the next corner.

The familiar feeling of fear burns inside your chest when you reach Jinx’s hideout but you find it eerily quiet and still. There's no sign of the blue haired girl but you spot Isha snoozing peacefully on the orange couch. You approach her silently to move some hair off her face and kiss her forehead gently. She stirs a bit but doesn't wake up and you take a moment to just admire her easy slumber.

You're glad at least little Isha is safe and unbothered by this whole ordeal between you and Jinx, although you did cause more instability by leaving unexpectedly. She is the better part between the three of you and not being around her just made everything worse. You wonder if she even missed you because you’ve definitely missed hanging out with her. Before you leave, you cover her little figure with a blanket so she doesn't get cold.

You rack your brain for places where Jinx might be. You check the nearby bathroom and the next door building's roof where you very probably took her virtue, but there was no sign of her. You try not to think of that night, her soft lips, the way she felt around your fingers or your stupid harsh words, but it was all still very vivid in your head.

You wish you could go back in time and do everything differently but there's no point in dwelling on that, you need to find her. So the next place you can think of is Silco’s old office, Jinx had dragged you there before to retrieve something from her secret stash when you were still her prisoner, so you try to remember how to get there.

You move as fast as you can through the shadows but nights at Zaun were very much busy and filled with people, which makes you take longer than necessary just to avoid anyone. You finally manage to reach the abandoned office but you stop outside the door when you hear her speaking softly, then angrily, seemingly trying to process a lot of different emotions.

You take a deep breath before quietly stepping in, careful not to make any noise and alert her to your presence, so you wait for the right opportunity. From where you're standing you can see pow-pow holstered on her hip and that she's wearing different clothes. Striped purple pants and a black crop top, which are certainly new. You wonder what happened to her old clothes.

When you step into the light after she finally gets quiet, she sees your reflection on the big round window in front of her. A bullet misses you by inches, leaving a cut on your cheek that draws some blood. You don't react, shit if she wants to shoot you right through your chest you would let her, that's how much you believe you need punishment for what you did. Jinx lets out an angry grunt and uses her superspeed to come halfway close to you when she suddenly stops to scream at the voices to shut up.

“Where the fuck have you been?!” She screams at you now. “You're MINE Shiv! Don't you fucking get it?! Why did you leave me?!” Her voice cracks in the end and she starts crying, body shaking as she starts to sob uncontrollably. You chance a step towards her but she shoots by your feet making you freeze again.

“I-I know, I fucked up big time, Jinx.” You tell her desperately, tears also running down your face. “Please forgive me. I'll do anything you want. I'll never run again, fuck you can lock me up in a cage again if you want, but please… I'm so sorry.” You beg, reaching a hand forward from where you're standing several feet away from her. She grabs the sides of her head and shakes it, trying to shut down the voices.

“You're sorry? How fucking dare you toy with my feelings like that?! I gave myself to you completely and you treat me like I'm some... animal you can chase away when you're done playing with it… you made me feel so good… called me princess and then treated me like I'm some just street trash…” She rants between sobs and your heart shatters in a million pieces.

“I know, I-I was a total asshole loser. I didn't know you had these feelings… I didn't know you were a… that that might have been your first… everything really. I mean, was it?” You need to know, damn if it’s true you would’ve done everything differently. She huffs angrily and turns away from you, hugging her middle as if trying to close herself from you.

“Does it matter now? You can’t change what happened.” She says with a shaky voice and zaps back to sit on the wooden desk, propping a foot on the swivel chair that once belonged to her father. Her shoulders are still shaking from crying but at least she’s not screaming anymore.

“I guess it doesn’t. But I wish I could’ve done things differently. If I had known about your feelings… I guess I shouldn’t have been so stubborn and ignored my own.” You slowly start to move closer to her when she puts her gun aside.

“Try asking next time.” She says, seeming exhausted. You manage to round the desk and stand in front of her. She glances at you, makeup all smeared underneath her eyes, and looks away. You want to reach out so badly and hold her in your arms, but you don’t want to trigger her any further.

“Okay, then. Do you… like me, Jinx? As more than friends or whatever we have going on, I mean.” You question her honestly. Your face burns furiously though, being this forward feels foreign to you.

“Yes dummy, I’ve been in love with you for a while now.” She finally looks at you and chuckles at your reaction. You’re completely dumbfounded, the look of shock on your face practically comical. What does she mean she’s in love with you? Your brain is trying hard to add two plus two but it takes you a minute.

“You - you’re in love with me?” You ask incredulously. Jinx nods timidly, her cheeks starting to blush a deep pink. “I uh… wow. I really wasn’t expecting that but... if I’m being honest with myself… I think I’ve been in love with you for a while too.” You manage to say before bursting into tears. Jinx reaches out an arm to you and you take her hand. She pulls you towards her, snuggling you between her legs and you practically melt into her, burying your face on her neck as she embraces you.

“Oh my silly Trinket.” She purrs against your hair. She moves a hand to cradle the back of your head while the other rubs circles on your back. You’re both still crying, the weight of all that was said and done falling upon you.

“I should- should be the one comforting you.” You say between sobs. “I’m so sorry, Jinx. I’ll never hurt you ever again.” You promise her, lifting up your head to look her in the eyes. She gives you a teary smile and caresses your cheek, making you lean into her touch.

“You better not.” She says, chuckling. “I don’t think I can survive another one of these.” She gestures between you two. You laugh timidly, wiping under your nose when she leans in to kiss your cheek, the one cut by her bullet. Your eyes flutter from feeling the softness of her lips on your skin and you instinctively rest your hands on her waist.

Jinx wipes your tears and blood gently and pulls you in for a tight hug, snaking her legs around your waist and laying her head on your chest, close to your fluttering heart. You cup the back of her neck to caress it lightly, goosebumps rising to the brush of your fingers. She lets out a heavy sigh and tightens her grip on you. You swear you could stay like this forever, having the heat of her body warm up your soul. And to think you almost gave this up because you couldn't let yourself be vulnerable.

“My chaos princess, I'm so lucky to be yours.” You say against the top of her head. She looks up at you with doey eyes before leaning in to kiss your lips. You sigh into the kiss and cup her face with shaky hands. Gods, how you missed the taste of her so you graze your tongue on her bottom lip seeking entrance and she lets you deepen the kiss.

Your tongues dance languidly against one another very unlike the first time you two kissed, no desperation or urgent desire motivating your actions, just simply wanting to memorize every stroke and every breath and every shiver elicited. You can't help but let out a moan when her hands run up your back, breaking the kiss. She takes the opportunity to kiss a path down your neck, dragging her teeth on the tender skin of your pulse point. You let out a quiet ‘fuck’ when she starts suckling a hickey on the curve between your neck and shoulder. Although you definitely don't mind being marked by her, you pull gently on one of her braids making her move away from your neck so you can kiss her senseless.

Jinx is utterly pliant to your desires and lets you guide her wherever you want, you don't quite remember her ever being this willing to let go of any control except for that fateful night you had her writhing underneath you. In no time your hands start to wander, desperate for a reminder of what her thighs feel like. They're still firm like you remember but only now there was too much clothing covering them. She tries to pull you closer, tightening the grip of her legs around your hips. You smile against her lips before grinding against her crotch, making her let out a delicious moan.

“Getting a little excited aren't we?” You say close to her ear. She whines, seemingly frustrated that you're talking and not kissing her.

“You haven't earned teasing privileges yet, Trinket.” She says with a cute pout on her face. “Now, why don't you make it up to me by making me feel real good, huh?” She says planting that damn attractive smirk on her face.

“Anything for you princess.” You mirror her expression before connecting your lips in a soaring kiss. She hums in approval then lets you explore her mouth with your soft tongue. You take this opportunity to run your hands up her stomach and towards her chest.

“I like these new clothes by the way.” You digress, running your index fingers through her side boobs. “Though I prefer you in way less clothing.” You lick her lips playfully and she chases after your mouth.

“Yeah, I've noticed.” She loops a finger through the hoop on your choker to pull you close to her mouth. “I’ve caught up staring before. Several times.” She whispers and you can't help but feel a little embarrassed by that.

“Fuck, was I that obvious?” You feel your cheeks burn in embarrassment. The blue haired girl kisses your face sweetly.

“Yeah, but lucky for you I was really into it.” She giggles before closing the gap between you. You grind against her again before pulling up her top, exposing her chest to your hungry fingers. She whimpers when you pinch at her pierced nipple and tries to seek more friction on her core with her lower body, making your own arousal pool inside your pants.

You part from her mouth to whisper a suggestion in her ear. “I want to try something, will you let me?” She nods her head positively so you kiss the skin behind her year before looking her in the eyes. “I want to taste you, princess.” You say watching her reaction. Her eyes grow wide and her face turns red but she gives you a quiet okay.

“We don't have to if you don't want to.” You reassure her but she shakes her head furiously before grabbing onto your chest harness with shaky hands.

“No, please I- I want to.” She says timidly but plants a soft kiss on your lips. You hold her face with one hand.

“Okay, but just so you know, we can stop anytime you want, yeah?” You want to make sure she feels comfortable every step of the way. She nods again and it's your turn to kiss her tenderly.

You start to venerate her body by kissing down her neck, leaving a couple of bruises on her throat before showering her chest with attention. You loved on her small perky breasts, licking and biting her hardened nipples until she was a panting mess. Then you move to her stomach and her waist covered with the cloud tattoo you loved so much, not missing the opportunity to leave a few markings next to the line of her pants. You chance a glance up at her and you're met with a sight you wish you never forget. She has a frown between her eyebrows, her cheeks are flushed red and her lips are swollen from your kisses.

You untangle her legs from around you then lower yourself on your knees before hooking your fingers on the hem of her pants. “You okay over there?” You ask with an innocent smile. She lets out a frustrated whine.

“Fuck Y/N, please just take them off already.” She says impatiently. You chuckle but obey anyway, pulling down the offending clothes down her legs, boots going with it in the process.

You kiss her left feet and up her leg before reaching the inside of her thighs. Jinx is already trembling when you spread her legs further, entirely exposing her to you. Your mouth waters at what you find, her wetness already running down her inner thigh, engorged clit pulsating with want and outer lips are puffy from all the blood concentrated on her core. You snake your arms around her thighs and you pull her closer to the edge of the desk. She has a death grip on it, knuckles turning pale already.

“Can you hold my hair up for me, princess?” You ask politely, laying a kiss on her pubic mound. She complies and you feel her grip tighten when you lick a firm path through her pussy.

“Hoooly fuck.” She says, rolling her eyes inside her skull and dropping her head back. You smile at her reaction and continue slowly lapping at her with a firm tongue.

“You're so hot.” You tell her when you take a break to part her folds with two fingers.

“You should see yourself.” She replies, running her thumb through your jaw till it reaches your lips.

You open your mouth to expose your tongue to her, making her slide her finger on it. You smirk before wrapping your lips around it and start sucking and moving your head back and forth to cover the whole length of it with your saliva. She just looks at you, hypnotised. You take her hand, releasing her thumb with a pop, then guide it towards her own chest, smearing your saliva on her pierced nipple. “Shit, I'm gonna lose the rest of my sanity if you keep up like this.” She tells you in awe, pupils completely blown with desire.

“I definitely don't mind.” You chuckle before returning your attention to her dripping center. You massage her clit between your digits before pulling up its hood and wrapping your lips around it to give it gentle sucks. Above you, Jinx lets out an obscene moan that reverberates through your own body, making you moan against her as well.

“Oh fuck, I'm gonna - fuck, fuck, fuck, I can't hold-” She mumbles incoherently, unintentionally pulling on your hair so tight you let out a whimper against her. You let go of her protruding bud before she reaches her peak, making her protest with an impatient whine and she tries to force you back where she needs you by pushing your head forward but you diverge your face towards her inner thigh, biting down at it. She lets out a cry that sounds more like a moan so you soothe the bruise with your tongue.

“Be patient, princess.” You tell her before flicking your tongue lightly on her clit. She squirms and tries to close her legs involuntarily.

“Hah that tickles.” The feather-like sensation making her finicky.

“Humm. Do you prefer it more like this?” You apply more pressure when you lick her this time and you see her eyes flutter at the sensation.

“Yeeah, that's better. Just like that.” She drops her head back once more, mouth agape but still managing to hold your hair away from your face with one hand.

She's a true vision from where you are kneeling between her legs and you realise how close you already feel to your own orgasm just by pleasuring her. So when you tease two fingers on her entrance you decide to slide your free hand inside your pants to take care of yourself. Jinx looks back at you starved when your digits reach the back of her wall and you notice she's fighting hard not to close her eyes so she can watch you satisfy yourself while you fuck her. You finally give her throbbing bud the attention it deserves by sucking hard on it.

It only takes a few pumps of your fingers inside her until she's reaching her orgasm, shaking so hard around your head you need to reach over to steady her. You help her ride her high but you've got no intention to slow down and stop. On the contrary, you fuck her harder and graze your teeth on her clit a few times, teasing it. She gasps and looks at you surprised but doesn't try to stop you. You catch her clit between your lips again when you return your hand to your center.

You want to make you both come together and it so happens when Jinx lets out a long moan and squirts all over your mouth and down your throat. Your eyes roll backwards at your own pleasure coating your hand with your ecstasy. You two moan in unison as you ride your fervor for a little longer before you release her clit and slowly remove your fingers from inside her. She collapses back on the desk, chest heaving, and you also try to steady your breathing.

“You okay over there, Jinxie?” You ask after a minute, worried you might have broken her.

“Better than okay.” She slurs her words, sounding drunk. You chuckle and try to get up but it seems your legs have turned to mush.

“Wanna give me a hand then?” You ask playfully. She sits up and looks down at you with amusement but as she takes in the state you're in, her eyes darken.

“Didn't expect you to be worse off than me.” She says half jokingly and offers you her hand. You reach to take it but before you can she grabs your wrist and starts cleaning your cum off of it. “Hmmm, as sweet as I dreamed you would be.” She says after finishing her handiwork. You feel like a deer caught in headlights.

She manages to lift you up to your feet and pulls you in for a passionate kiss, licking up all of her fluids from your face passionately. Her wandering hands find the swell of your ass and squeezes making you moan her name. You knew where this was going but you didn't know if you were ready yet for it to happen. Jinx starts kissing your jaw and down your throat when you hear someone entering the room suddenly.

“What the hell is going on here?” Sevika says in horror.

After having survived Sevika’s wrath in what you now know is her new office, you and Jinx return to the hideout separately so as not to attract attention to yourselves. When morning comes and Isha wakes up to the sight of you sleeping on a thin mattress next to the couch and Jinx hunched over her workstation, tinkering away at some random project, she lets out a confused sound. The kid sits up and removes the blanket from herself, wiping the sleep off of her eyes before crossing her arms on her chest with an angry look on her face.

As if sensing she is awake, you stir into consciousness and open one eye to chance a peek in her direction but your vision is still blurry from sleep so you lazily throw an arm in Isha’s direction only to feel your hand being swatted away. Oh boy, here we go again. You sigh deeply before sitting up as well and resting your forearm on the couch. Isha gestures to you that she's angry you left and that Jinx was really sad, completely out of control and even burned up her clothes while laughing maniacally at the flames.

“Burned her clothes?” You whisper back. The little kid nods positively and like a tough loving parent, she gestures and demands to know what happened. “I-I know, I screwed up big time. And um… I didn't think I deserved forgiveness, so I left.” You try to explain without getting into what actually happened.

She huffs and looks about as disappointed as you feel for having left her. “I'm sorry Isha. I shouldn't have left you and I couldn't stand being away from both of you so I came back. I'm not sure if Jinx has forgiven me entirely but if you can, that would mean the world to me.” A tear rolls down her cheek so you reach over to wipe it away and this time she doesn't reject you.

On the contrary, Isha lunges forward and throws her little arms around your neck, burying her face in your hair. You cradle her head and make soothing patterns on her back as she cries quietly, wishing you could take all her sadness away. “It's okay baby. I’m never leaving you again. I promise.” You reassure her.

There's suddenly a light weight hugging you both as Jinx decides to join in your little moment of reconciliation, probably having overheard what you said. “Yeah, I won't let it happen.” she says resolutely. You smile because even though the implications behind her words are very dark, your heart can't help but flutter at her pledge.

“I've forgiven you, y’know?” She whispers now into your ear. You turn to look at her with tears in your eyes as she backs away slightly. You want to kiss her so badly but at the same time you don't want Isha to feel weird about whatever you've got going on with Jinx.

However she is the one to take the first step and lean in to kiss your cheek. You don't understand how a simple act of affection can make your heart beat so fast and your face burn so hot when not long ago you were doing much more lewd things to her that elicited this same reaction. She smirks at your flustered expression but looks away when she realises Isha watched the whole scene unfold. The little girl looks between you two and mimics Jinx by planting a quick kiss on your other cheek.

“Hey! I'm not willing to share, kid.” Jinx protests but Isha only giggles and sneakily gives the blue haired girl's face a smooch before snaking her arms around both your necks to pull you into a group hug with a huge smile on her face.

Dividers by @bernardsbendystraws and @cafekitsune.

[bucketgetter535]

I don’t even like her

Paige Bueckers x Azzi Fudd

CW: Swearing/Subtle internalized homophobia

WC: 1021

Notes: basically Paige is an angsty sixteen year old who “hates” this girl who goes to her school and vents to her therapist about it. (Lowk ooc for Paige but this is self indulgent) anyway this could be the only fic I ever write cause I’m also using it for a creative writing project at school so… give feedback if you want more ig?

The carpet in the office was too clean. That was the first thing Paige noticed every time. Too clean and too soft, like she wasn’t allowed to stomp on it. Like it would judge her shoes for having walked through a parking lot. Her chair squeaked a little when she leaned back too hard, and the window always had that little hum from the traffic outside. It wasn’t annoying. It was just always there.

Dr. Reyes sat in the chair across from her, the same leather armchair every week, ankles crossed like she had all the time in the world. She had that therapist expression that wasn’t fake, but wasn’t… not practiced, either. It was the kind of face Paige found herself trying to match sometimes. Even now. Even when she didn’t want to be here.

“So,” she started, not even looking at her notebook, “how’s this week been? Any change from what you were feeling before?”

Paige shrugged. Her hood was up. Her sleeves were pulled over her hands. “Fine.”

“You seem tired.”

“I guess.”

Dr. Reyes gave her a minute. She always gave her a minute.

And Paige hated that it worked.

“I’m just—” Paige exhaled, tugged at a loose thread on her sweatshirt. “I don’t know. People are annoying.”

“People, like… your teammates?”

“No. I mean yeah, but not really.” Another beat. “Just this one person.”

Dr. Reyes didn’t say anything.

“She’s just—God.” Paige sat up straighter, suddenly full of words. “She’s not even that great. Okay? Like people act like she is. People think she’s like this goddess or something. And she’s not. She’s just a girl. She’s literally just a girl. A normal girl. She’s not even that funny. She just—laughs at dumb stuff. Like it’s charming or whatever.”

Dr. Reyes stayed still. Just listening.

“And she’s not as good as everyone says she is. Like okay, yeah, she’s good, but she’s not better than me. I’m better. I am.”

“You’re talking about—?”

Paige rolled her eyes. “I’m not saying her name.”

Dr. Reyes smiled just slightly. “Okay.”

“She walks around like she owns everything. Like she doesn’t even know how pretty she is. It’s annoying. It’s so—manipulative. Like, don’t act all humble and act like you don’t know what you’re doing when you wear those stupid crop tops or laugh like that or—” Paige stopped, red in the face now. “Whatever.”

There was a silence. The kind that only existed when someone had just told a really big truth disguised as a rant.

“You sound like you think about her a lot,” Dr. Reyes said softly.

“I have to. She’s always there. Practice. School. Online. My friends won’t shut up about her. Even my dad likes her.”

“And you don’t?”

“No!” Paige’s voice cracked on it. “I mean—God, no. I hate her.”

Dr. Reyes raised an eyebrow gently. “You hate her?”

“Yes. I hate her dumb face and her dumb smile and the way she always smells like coconut conditioner and how she somehow makes basketball graceful. Like it’s supposed to be messy. It’s supposed to be violent, and she makes it look like a ballet or some shit and it’s infuriating.”

Paige was breathing faster now, curled slightly forward, like the truth was physically pushing its way out of her.

“And I hate how she looks at me like she knows me. Like she sees through all my shit. I hate how she’s nice to people. I hate how she’s mean when she’s mad. I hate how I know her favorite color is pink and she loves chocolate and eats some kind of treat every night because she’s got the worst sweet tooth. I hate how she texts with perfect punctuation. I hate that she doesn’t get pimples. I hate that she calls me ‘P’ like she’s allowed to.”

Dr. Reyes tilted her head just slightly. “She calls you that?”

Paige blinked hard. Her voice dropped. “Only sometimes.”

The room felt smaller now. Warmer. Or maybe that was just her.

Dr. Reyes was quiet, letting it stretch. Letting Paige decide where to go next.

“I—” Paige’s voice cracked again. “I think about her too much. And I hate that.”

“What do you think about?”

“She’s just always there. In my head. Like I’ll be in math or on the bus or listening to music or brushing my teeth and she just shows up. And it’s not even like I want her there. She just is.”

“And when she’s there?”

Paige swallowed. Her voice went small. “Sometimes I’m mad. Sometimes I just want her to look at me. Like, actually look at me. Not like a teammate. Not like a friend. Like… like I’m special. Like I’m more than just good at basketball.”

Dr. Reyes didn’t move. Her stillness was the safest thing in the world.

“And that makes me mad, too,” Paige whispered. “Because I shouldn’t want that from her. She’s her.”

“What’s wrong with wanting that?”

“Because it’s her.” Paige’s eyes were glassy now. “And if it’s her then—then maybe I’m not who I thought I was.”

Dr. Reyes’ voice was gentle. “Who do you think you are?”

“I don’t know anymore.”

The room went still again. Paige wiped her nose on her sleeve.

“I hate her,” she said again, softer now. “I hate that I know she’s everything I want to be. I hate that she makes me feel safe and out of control at the same time. I hate that I see her name and my stomach flips. That I hear her voice and everything feels quieter. I hate that her hands are so gentle when she rebounds and that she lets me win arguments because she knows I need to. I hate that she smells like home. And I hate that Azzi Fudd might be the only person I’ve ever—”

She stopped. Bit her lip. Looked away.

Dr. Reyes let her.

When Paige looked back, her face was blotchy, and her voice was nothing more than a thread of air.

“I don’t even like her,” she whispered.

And for the first time, Dr. Reyes wrote something down. Just one word.

Love

[iwannaleavemymind]

Hit it from the back she louder than two sold out nights!!

Plug!Sukuna x f!reader

‼️Minors dni‼️

Warnings; high sex, drug use- marijuana obviously, rough sex, degradation, backhanded praise🤭, reader called ‘slut’ and stuff like that, hair pulling, and yeah just general self indulgent smut.

It started out as just little back alley switches- a few 20 dollars here and a joint here and there but you’d be lying if you denied that fact you’d buy from him more because you had a little crush on him.

And you just happened to trip and fall onto his couch on what what supposed to be another deal?

your soaked pussy might know the answer for that!

“F-fuck stay still woman.” He groans above you, you poor abused cunt being pounded ruthlessly by the man above you staring right into your fucked out high expression of ecstasy.

But you can’t help squirming under him!! He’s just so fucking deep- so fucking good and reaching those sweet spots fucking perfectly.

“Please s’kuna hah- you’re s’deep ngh-“ your words slur a bit from the haziness of weed clouding your mind while being fucked out at the same times your mind a whirlwind of serotonin and lust.

His hands grip your thighs, forcing them open more, trembling and weak from holding yourself up, legs dangling in the air and your nails raking down his tatted back would turn anyone on and fucking crazy too- but hey he’s the one who’s quite literally balls deep inside you fucking you senseless.

“Cmon baby you can’t be this dumb already huh? Haven’t even let you cum yet.”

And fuck it was true- as soon as you’d almost cum all over him, he’s stop- teasing and edging you to the point of tears only would he then resume.

“Aw fuck I gotta give this sweet cunt what she wants though hm?”

Your incoherent babbling is quickly replaced with high pitched moans and screaming his name as he fucks himselfs deeper and deeper into you over and over, hitting your g spot just right making you squirt all over his cock

“You’re so messy girl- teach this sloppy pussy a lesson then hm?”

Famous last words.

He pulls out of your cunt with a wet pop! And flips your over ass up and face down into a pillow, spreading your legs wide with your slick still dripping down your cunt onto your inner thighs- so wet and perfect.

“Hah- fuck baby you’re so damn tight and wet- s’perfect f’me”

He positions himself at your entrance yet again, pushing into your sopping wet pussy and fucking your with reckless abandon earning squeals and whimpers to escape your lips, your face buried into the pillow moaning like a bitch in heat.

“Yea y’like that baby? When I fuck you like this?”

He grabs the fast of your ass with his strong hands, his fingers digging into the soft skin and fucks your pussy like it’d be his last day on earth if he didn’t- rough and fast like a damn animal.

“Yesyesyes oh my god I’m gonna fuckin’ cum ahh!” You cry out, cock drunk and hazed and mind narrowing down to your own pleasure.

“Cum for me little slut, hear that? She fuckin loves me.” Your wet cunt sloppily cumming all over his dick and squelching and sloppy wet noises fill the room from your multiple orgasms at this point.

Not long after you, he bottoms out cumming deep inside your pussy with your back arched down just the way he likes it, the fat of your ass jiggling every time his hips meet yours. His seed fills your tight cunt, spilling out of you.

“Surely she can take it all cmon baby.”he tuts disapprovingly, his hips slapping against your ass fucking his cum back inside you.

“Just. thrust. Like. thrust. that.” His word punctuated by mean, slow, deep thrusts making you squeal and nails digging into the soft cushions below you.

Eyes rolling back and tears streaking your face, he keeps going, your poor abused pussy coming over and over again all over him, but you’re not complaining- it felt good. Addicting even.

“Hah- f-fuck I can’t anymore I hah- oh fuckkkk!” Your loud needy moans are met with a harsh slap on your ass, fucking the words out of you, making you a mindless little cockdrunk slut just how he likes it.

“Fuck baby you’re takin me s’well might have to keep you around forever huh?”

[pbaz7]

AN: Hellooo, a few people told me they liked the story so I’m back with part 2. Please please let me know if I should continue. I’m actually really enjoying writing this and I have ideas of where I want it to go if people are interested.

It’ll Always Be Her Part II

The sunlight peeked through the blinds, casting warm, soft streaks across the bed. Paige stirred first, her eyes fluttering open. A peaceful calm washed over her as she took in the sight of Azzi sleeping beside her, the morning light catching the subtle contours of her face. Her dark lashes rested against her cheeks. She looked beautiful in every sense, Paige couldn’t help but smile, the sight filling her chest with an unfamiliar lightness.

She didn’t feel the usual pang of guilt or confusion. Not this time.

Azzi shifted slightly, her brow furrowing as she blinked herself awake. Slowly her eyes found Paige’s, still groggy but already catching the look in Paige’s gaze. That look–a mixture of curiosity, affection, and something deeper–was unmistakable. It sent a ripple through Azzi that she immediately understood but knew they weren’t quite ready to act on.

“Good morning,” Paige whispered, her voice soft but carrying an edge of playfulness.

Azzi smirked lazily, her voice low and a little raspy. “Morning, You’re staring.”

Paige chuckled, her cheeks warming slightly. “Maybe, You’re just really pretty when you’re not yelling at me to wake up.”

Azzi rolled her eyes but laughed, the sound rich and warm. “I’ll keep that in mind for tomorrow.” She stretched a little bit but her arms stayed around Paige, drawing her back into their cozy tangle. “So, what’s on your agenda today, superstar?”

Paige leaned in slightly, their faces close enough that their foreheads nearly touched. “Mmm, not much. Gotta deal with a test, and we’ve got practice, of course.”

“Sounds thrilling,” Azzi teased, her hand lightly brushing against Paige’s arm. “Think you can keep up with me today?”

Paige arched a brow, a playful glint in her eyes. “Keep up? Please. You’ve been trailing me on the court for weeks.”

Azzi snorted softly. “That’s cute, You’re cute when you’re delusional.”

The banter flowed effortlessly, their voices barely above a whisper, intimate in the quiet morning. With each exchange, they seemed to draw impossibly closer, their breathing syncing, their words punctuated by the occasional brush of hands or shift of legs.

Paige’s heart raced as Azzi’s gaze dropped briefly to her lips, then back to her eyes. She felt the weight of the moment, the pull between them stronger than ever.

“You know,” Paige murmured, her voice carrying a hint of something unspoken, “if we don’t get out of bed soon, we’ll be late for lifting.”

“Probably,” Azzi replied, but she made no move to leave, her fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns along Paige’s arm.

Their faces were inches apart now, breaths mingling, Paige could feel the heat radiating from Azzi, and for a fleeting second, she thought about closing that last bit of distance. Azzi seemed to be thinking the same, her hand moving to gently rest on Paige’s hip.

The tension between them was electric, each waiting for the other to make the next move.

Then without warning Azzi’s smile faltered slightly, a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. “Paige,” she said softly, careful not to hurt the older girl's feelings, her tone shifting. “We can’t.”

Paige frowned, the warmth in her chest dimming. “Why not?”

Azzi sighed, her hand moving up to rest lightly on Paige’s arm. “Jess,” she said simply. “We both know this..we can’t go there while she’s still in the picture.”

Paige groaned, flopping back onto the pillow. “I was going to break things off with her,” she said, her frustration evident. “Before she dropped the family stuff on me. I was ready, Azzi.”

Azzi’s gaze softened. “I know. But doing it now? Over text, while she’s dealing with all of that? You don’t want to be that person, Paige. And you’re not.”

Paige exhaled heavily, running a hand through her hair. “It just feels so…messy. I don’t know how much longer I can keep pretending everything’s fine.”

Azzi shifted closer, her voice gentle. “We’ll figure it out. Just…wait until she’s back. Talk to her face-to-face.”

Paige nodded reluctantly, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. "Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

As she sat up, ready to start her day, Azzi’s eyes followed her. Paige was halfway to stretching when she caught Azzi openly raking her gaze up her body, lingering for just a beat too long.

"Really?" Paige teased, raising an eyebrow.

Azzi didn’t even try to deny it, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. "Can you blame me?"

Paige crossed her arms, leaning slightly to one side. "You’re supposed to be the responsible one, remember? Telling me to wait and all that."

Azzi shrugged, her eyes still shamelessly drinking Paige in. "I never said I wasn’t tempted."

Paige rolled her eyes, but there was a faint blush creeping up her cheeks. "We’re waiting," she said, her tone firm, though the smile tugging at her lips betrayed her resolve.

Azzi bit her lip, her smirk deepening as she slowly got out of bed. "If you say so." Her gaze lingered just a moment longer before she turned, the sway of her hips deliberate as she headed toward the bathroom.

Paige watched her go, muttering under her breath, "Impossible."

Azzi glanced back over her shoulder, catching Paige’s eye one last time. "You love it," she said with a wink, disappearing through the doorway.

…

The weight room buzzed with energy, the sound of clanging metal and low chatter filling the air. Paige and Azzi ended up in separate lifting groups, but that didn’t stop them from finding each other across the room.

Every time Paige moved to adjust a bar or add weight, she’d catch Azzi’s eye. The smirk that played on Azzi’s lips whenever their gazes met sent a thrill through her. Azzi, for her part, seemed to always be positioned just right—either brushing past Paige or standing close enough for their arms to graze when they crossed paths.

Paige wasn’t subtle, either. Her eyes lingered on Azzi’s toned frame when she thought no one was watching, appreciating the effortless way she moved.

Caroline, spotting Azzi leaning against a squat rack, sauntered over, towel slung over her shoulder. “Alright, spill,” she said, her tone playful but pointed. “What’s going on between you and Paige? Because whatever it is, you two are about as subtle as a KK coming into a room and the whole room can feel the tension.

Azzi raised an eyebrow, chuckling softly as she picked up a kettlebell. “What are you talking about?”

Caroline gave her a deadpan look. “Don’t play dumb. The eye contact, the lingering touches, the whole...thing.” She gestured vaguely in Paige’s direction. “Come on, I’m not blind.”

Azzi sighed, setting the kettlebell down. “It’s...complicated.” She wiped her hands on her shorts, her gaze flickering back to Paige, who was busy adjusting her grip on a barbell. “We want each other. That much is obvious.”

Caroline snorted. “Yeah, no kidding. So, what’s stopping you?”

Azzi hesitated, her voice lowering. “Paige has a girlfriend. Jess.”

Caroline wrinkled her nose. “Jess? The one who’s been a total bitch to you since day one? Please. Why does that even matter? What does that have to do with you two?”

Azzi let out a short laugh, shaking her head. “I might’ve given her a few reasons to be upset.”

Caroline raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

Azzi hesitated, then gave a wry smile. “Let’s just say I’m not exactly subtle when Jess is around.” She shrugged, almost sheepishly. “I’ll admit, I push it a bit sometimes—making Paige laugh, leaning in close, touching her just enough to make her flustered. All while Jess is watching.”

Caroline’s eyebrows shot up. “Wow. Bold move.”

Azzi leaned against the squat rack, her smirk returning. “Only because of how rude Jess is to me. From the moment we met, she’s been cold, making snide comments. I wouldn’t normally do it, but she brings it out of me.”

Caroline tilted her head, curious. “Like what? What does she say?”

Azzi shrugged. “Little things. She questions why I’m always around, makes passive-aggressive comments about me crashing at Paige’s place. Stuff like that. So, yeah, I might wear Paige’s hoodie when Jess is visiting. And, yeah, I’ve been known to brush my hand against Paige’s back or shoulder, just to see if I can get a reaction.” She grinned wickedly. “Paige gets this cute little blush every time.”

Caroline laughed, shaking her head. “You’re evil.”

Azzi grinned wider. “Maybe. But I wouldn’t do it if Jess wasn’t so nasty all the time. It’s not like I go out of my way to make things worse. Most of the time, Jess does that all on her own.”

Caroline considered this, then shrugged. “Still, if Paige is letting it happen, that says something. You sure she’s even into Jess?”

Azzi’s eyes softened as she looked across the room, where Paige was adjusting weights on a barbell. “She’s loyal,” Azzi said quietly. “And she feels guilty. That’s why she hasn’t ended it yet.”

Azzi’s gaze drifted back to Paige, who was stretching now, her shirt riding up just slightly to reveal a sliver of toned stomach. Paige caught Azzi looking and shot her a playful glare, which only made Azzi grin wider.

Caroline rolled her eyes at the two. “Screw timing then. Jess isn’t here, and it sounds like she doesn’t treat Paige that great anyway. Why are you holding back for someone who barely even likes you and who Paige is barely in a relationship with?”

Azzi considered that, her gaze softening as she watched Paige laugh at something one of her teammates said. “Good question,” she said quietly.

Paige glanced up then, her eyes meeting Azzi’s. The air between them seemed to spark, the weight room fading into the background for a moment. Paige’s gaze flickered down Azzi’s body, lingering just a little too long, before she quickly looked away, cheeks faintly pink.

Caroline nudged Azzi with a knowing grin. “See? You’re wasting time.”

Azzi smirked, picking up her towel. “Maybe you’re right,” she murmured. “Why should I push aside what I want for someone I barely know?”

With renewed determination, Azzi grinned to herself. Over the next few weeks, she’d turn up the heat. Subtle glances and light brushes wouldn’t cut it. She’d make sure Paige felt everything she did.

“Time to step up my game,” Azzi said, her tone full of resolve.

Caroline laughed, slapping Azzi on the back. “Now that’s the Azzi I know.”

…

Paige adjusted the weights on her barbell, her mind far from the task at hand. Her thoughts kept drifting back to that morning, to the way Azzi’s warm body felt against hers, the low murmur of her voice, and that damn smirk. The memory of Azzi’s lips—soft, so close—sent a shiver down her spine. She clenched her jaw, trying to focus, but it was impossible.

Her eyes wandered, almost involuntarily, back to Azzi across the room. The other girl was effortlessly beautiful, her skin glistening under the gym’s harsh fluorescent lights, her curls pulled into a loose bun that seemed to defy gravity. Paige's gaze lingered on the curve of her shoulders, the way her muscles flexed with every movement, and those lips, parted slightly as she concentrated.

God, she was a distraction.

The worst part was the heat building inside her—frustration, desire, and something softer, more dangerous. She’d tried to ignore it, to bury it under excuses and loyalty to Jess. But this morning, tangled up in Azzi, it was impossible to deny. She wanted her. She wanted the girl with the dark curls, the quick wit, and the way she always made Paige feel like the only person in the room.

And the way Azzi looked at her…like she knew exactly what Paige was thinking, like she was waiting for her to break.

Paige exhaled sharply, forcing herself to focus as one of her teammates called out that it was her turn to lift. She stepped up to the barbell, wiping her hands on her shorts, but not before catching Azzi’s eyes.

Azzi was staring at her, and for a moment, everything else faded. There was something different in her expression now—a determination that sent a thrill through Paige. It wasn’t just teasing or flirtation anymore. It was a challenge, a promise, a silent declaration.

Paige’s heart skipped a beat, and she quickly looked away, gripping the barbell tightly as she prepared for her set. But even as she lifted, the weight pressing down on her shoulders, her mind stayed on Azzi.

What was she planning? And how much longer could Paige resist?

…

Later that night the suite buzzed with energy, the air thick with laughter, playful banter, and the occasional sound of someone dramatically yelling about losing at cards. The movie was more of a formality now, its dialogue drowned out by the team’s antics. Paige sat on the couch, her legs stretched out comfortably, but her focus was entirely elsewhere.

Azzi was beside her, close enough that their arms brushed every now and then, each touch igniting a spark that neither could ignore. Paige felt bold tonight—bolder than she’d expected. Maybe it was the residual energy from the morning or the way Azzi kept glancing at her, but she found herself leaning into the tension.

"You always this handsy during movie night?" Paige teased, her voice low enough that only Azzi could hear.

Azzi smirked, her eyes glinting with mischief. "Only when the company’s good," she shot back, letting her fingers briefly graze Paige’s forearm.

Paige’s lips quirked up as she tilted her head toward Azzi, her voice dropping to a playful murmur. "You might want to be careful. People could get ideas."

Azzi chuckled, leaning closer, her curls brushing against Paige’s cheek. "Let them," she whispered.

For a moment, they simply sat there, the weight of unspoken words hanging between them. But Paige wasn’t content to let Azzi have all the fun tonight. As the room’s energy shifted, with some teammates moving around to grab more snacks, Paige stood up. She circled the couch and came up behind Azzi, her heart pounding with anticipation.

Azzi was mid-conversation with Ice when Paige leaned down, her breath warm against Azzi’s ear. "You know," Paige whispered, her voice just loud enough for Azzi to hear, "you’re making it really hard for me to focus tonight."

Azzi froze for a split second, her eyes widening before she quickly masked her reaction. "Oh, am I?" she said, her voice a little breathier than usual.

Paige grinned, enjoying the rare sight of Azzi flustered. She let her fingers trail lightly over Azzi’s shoulder as she pulled back, returning to her seat.

Azzi turned her head slightly, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "You’re trouble, blondie," she muttered under her breath, her lips curving into a small smile.

Paige arched a brow, her eyes glinting with playful challenge. "Takes one to know one."

The night went on, but the game between them only intensified. Azzi wasn’t about to let Paige’s sudden boldness go unanswered. She leaned in closer during conversations, her touches lingering a little longer, her voice softer and more intimate.

At one point, Azzi let her hand rest on Paige’s thigh for a moment too long as she reached for her drink, her thumb brushing against the fabric. Paige felt her breath catch, but instead of pulling away, she leaned in, her voice a teasing murmur. "Careful, Azzi. You’re making it hard to behave."

Azzi’s smirk was immediate. "Good," she whispered back, her eyes locked on Paige’s. "I wasn’t planning on making it easy."

The room around them faded further into the background as they continued their unspoken dance. Paige felt a heady mix of exhilaration and frustration as the night wore on, each shared glance, each touch, pushing them closer to a line neither was ready to cross.

When the movie ended and teammates started to gather their things, Azzi stood, stretching casually. Paige couldn’t help but watch the way her shirt rode up slightly, exposing a sliver of toned skin. Azzi caught her staring and bit her lip, her eyes flicking down Paige’s form in return.

"You heading to bed, P?" Azzi asked, her voice laced with suggestion.

Paige crossed her arms, leaning casually against the couch. "Maybe. You planning to behave yourself tonight?"

Azzi stepped closer, her smirk widening. "Depends," she said, her voice dropping. "Will it be more fun if I don’t?"

Paige laughed softly, shaking her head. "You’re impossible," she said, though the warmth in her tone betrayed how much she was enjoying this.

Azzi shrugged, biting her lip before turning toward the bathroom. But before she could get far, Paige reached out, gently grabbing her wrist.

"Wait," Paige said, her voice softer now, her eyes searching Azzi’s. "What changed? This morning, you were the one telling me we needed to slow down because of Jess."

Azzi tilted her head, her expression softening. "I thought about it," she said simply. "And I realized…I want you. I’m not going to ignore that anymore." Her eyes flicked to Paige’s lips for a second before meeting her gaze again. "But I’d never let you do something that goes against who you are. That’s not how this works."

Paige blinked, her throat tight. She felt the weight of Azzi’s words settle over her, the pull between them growing stronger by the second.

Paige lingered in the living room for a moment, her thoughts swirling as her teammates filtered out one by one. The air still buzzed with the energy of the night, but she knew she wouldn’t find any calm out here. With a deep breath, she pushed off the couch and headed toward her bedroom.

When she stepped inside, the soft glow of a bedside lamp illuminated Azzi, who was already tucked into bed. She was scrolling through her phone, her curls spilling over the pillow in effortless waves. She looked up as Paige entered, a slow, knowing smile curving her lips.

Paige leaned against the doorframe, crossing her arms. "Settling in, huh?" she said, her voice light but laced with teasing.

Azzi chuckled, setting her phone on the nightstand. "You know it," she replied, her eyes flicking up to meet Paige’s.

Paige shook her head, smiling as she grabbed her sleep clothes from a drawer. "You’d better behave tonight," she said over her shoulder as she changed.

Azzi propped herself up on one elbow, her smirk widening. "What? You think I’m plotting something?" she teased, her tone playful but with that familiar edge of suggestion.

Paige turned back to her, hands on her hips. "I wouldn’t put it past you."

Azzi laughed softly, her gaze warm. "Relax," she said, patting the space beside her. "I just expect the usual cuddles. Nothing more…unless you’re offering."

Paige rolled her eyes, but her grin betrayed her. "You’re impossible," she muttered, climbing into bed.

As she settled under the covers, Azzi shifted closer, wrapping an arm around Paige’s waist like it was the most natural thing in the world. Paige let out a soft sigh, her body relaxing into the familiar comfort of Azzi’s embrace.

"Goodnight, Azzi," she said softly, her voice carrying a warmth that wasn’t there earlier.

"Goodnight, Paige," Azzi whispered back, her tone light but sincere.

Despite the tension that had simmered between them all day, the comfort of their closeness made everything feel just a little bit easier. Paige closed her eyes, a small smile lingering on her lips as sleep began to pull her under.

[ncityprincess]

Forever Home 🏠

Smut | MDNI

WC: 2.7K+

Plot: Long-term couple Johnny and Y/N share a delicious dinner and reminisce about all the good times they’ve shared in their soon-to-be old apartment.

*This couple is from the same universe as Nighttime Routine, the Big three-oh, and the Dad Johnny series so feel free to read those too, but they’re not required reading 🙂‍↔️*

Mentions: dirty talk, oral fixation, breeding kink, strength kink, size kink (come on it’s Johnny)

“Woah!”

Your fiancé did a little happy dance as he tasted the chicken he’d been working on for the past 20 minutes. Tonight, you two were trying a new chicken thigh recipe, and judging by the tall man’s enthusiasm, it was a hit.

“It’s good huh,” You teased, glancing up from your salad prep.

“Here, come try.” Johnny speared a piece of chicken on his fork, blowing away the steam. You paused, eager for a taste test, and bounced over, always up for sampling his cooking.

You savored the perfectly seasoned bite. “Mmm…” you hummed, delighted. The chicken was juicy, and tender, with just the right kick of spice. “Oh my God, this Harissa seasoning? Definitely staying in the rotation.”

Johnny grinned, nodding in agreement as he turned off the stove and started plating the food. Meanwhile, you resumed tossing the salad, whisking together a quick homemade dressing.

Peaceful moments like these made you appreciate the relationship you and Johnny had cultivated. It was the mundane, casual moments that truly warmed your heart the most. Not needing to fill silence with fluff and noise—just enjoying the comfort of each other's presence.

“Red or white tonight, my love,” Johnny asked, interrupting your quiet thoughts.

“Mm, let’s do red tonight.”

After the table was set and you both had everything you needed, you finally sat down to dig in. The two of you engaged in some light conversation, gushing over how good the meal turned out, as well as what types of things you both got up to at work.

“I only had one client call today, so luckily I was finally able to finish cleaning out the hall closet. Thank God for remote work, one less thing we have to do this month.”

“Wooo, you rock babe thank you. That project took way longer than it needed to. How can two people rack up so much junk,” Johnny laughed before taking a bite of salad.

“Well, we had our suitcases, old college junk, your skateboard, my yoga mat, your endless supply of nerdy tech stuff, my totally not out of control shoe collection…We had our whole lives in that closet babe. That, and we’ve already lived in this building for six years. That’s a lot of time to collect a bunch of junk.”

“Well, I for one very much enjoyed accumulating all that junk with you, m’lady. And I can’t wait to collect even more junk with you in our new place.” Johnny punctuated his statement with a heaping bite of chicken.

You shook your head at his silliness. “Wow, how romantic honey. But I’m honestly so ready for our forever home. This market is so volatile,” you pouted. Johnny looked at you with warm eyes, wanting to kiss the pout right off your face…

You both had been house hunting for a lot longer than you had anticipated. Turns out, buying a house wasn’t as simple as they made it seem on HGTV. It wasn’t a straightforward choice between three gorgeous homes, it was sifting through piles of renovation nightmares and out-of-budget fantasies.

Each house was either too small, too outdated, didn’t have enough character, or had too many zeros attached to the price tag. Each viewing left you more disappointed than the last. Johnny, ever the optimist, always assured you that the right one would come along eventually. “What’s meant for us can’t skip us, baby.”

After dinner, you continued your normal routine of washing the dishes and putting the leftovers away. The faint smell of chicken and spices lightly lingered in the air. The calming energy of the kitchen filled you with a sense of peace.

“Oh, by the way, I picked up a little something from your favorite bakery on the way home. Check the fridge.” Johnny nodded toward the refrigerator before sitting back down. Even though your tummy was stuffed, your ears perked up at the thought of your favorite treat patiently waiting for you.

Johnny smiled fondly at the way you skipped toward the fridge and all but broke the door off its hinges to retrieve the dessert. You grabbed two spoons and plopped down onto Johnny’s empty lap. His strong hands moved to massage your hips and upper thighs while you opened the pink dessert box, eager to dig in.

But to your surprise and mild disappointment, it wasn't your delicious strawberry cheesecake, but instead, a silver key that you had never seen before. The key sparkled beautifully under the overhead light.

You stared at the box dumbfounded, turning to look at Johnny. His eyes held lighthearted mischief and he chuckled yet again, placing a soft kiss on top of your head.

“Do you know what this is?” He asked gently against your ear.

“…not my favorite strawberry cheesecake in the whole wide world?”

“Remember the place we looked at a few weeks back? The one we had our hearts set on, but another family placed a higher bid? Turns out their offer fell through. The house is ours, baby. We move in at the end of the month.”

The realization finally hit and you squealed, wrapping your arms around your lover’s neck. “You mean the one with the gorgeous sunroom and the little koi fish pond!?”

Johnny squeezed your hip. “Uh-huh, that’s the one. The one with just enough space to get started on that family we’ve always wanted. It all worked out perfectly baby.”

“Oh honey, I love you so much. Thank you! I can’t believe we’re gonna be homeowners!” You peppered a million smooches all over Johnny’s face, overcome with the joy of what the next chapter will bring.

“I love you. I’m so lucky to be able to experience this moment with you.”

You nuzzled yourself deeper into Johnny, suddenly feeling sentimental. “We’ve shared so many memories in this little apartment. It’s kind of bittersweet to be leaving”

“Yeah, we sure have…remember the time you flooded the bathroom. Maintenance was pisssssed,” Johnny teased.

You gasped and lightly pressed your pointer finger into his chest. “Well, do you remember the time you burned our Thanksgiving turkey?! We had to leave our windows open in the dead of winter to air out the smoke,” you teased right back.

“How could I forget, my mom never lets me live that one down.” You laughed and ran your hands through his silky strands absentmindedly.

“Remember when we got that terrible snowstorm that knocked the power out of the whole city? We were snowed in for days, and had to snuggle for warmth.”

“Goodness, I swore my fingers and toes were going to fall off,” you reminisced with a light laugh. “The electric bill was cheaper that month, but at what cost?”

You both chuckled at the memory, the glow of shared experience warming the space between you. The room fell into a comfortable silence, broken only by the soft hum of the dishwasher.

Johnny’s gaze lingered on you, a quiet contentment settling over him. The longer he sat there, the more he became aware of how warm your body felt pressed against his. The memory of huddling for warmth now had a different meaning — not out of necessity, but out of comfort. He liked the way you instinctively nuzzled into him every so often, your soft curves fitting perfectly against his body.

His fingers traced idle patterns along your side, as though savoring the present moment. You felt the subtle shift in his energy, his touch growing more intentional, lingering.

“What kind of memories do you wanna make in the new house baby?”

Something about the way the tone of his voice hit your most sensitive parts lets you know that the energy of the moment was about to shift.

“Hm,” you pondered, letting the statement linger in the air.

Johnny wasted no time letting you know where his mind was at. “Because I think I wanna make some really dirty memories in our new bedroom. What do you think?” His hand slid up the front of your soft stomach, making you squirm.

“I guess we could make that happen. But who says we have to wait till we get to the new house?”

Johnny looked down at you pleasantly stunned, while your eyes held sensual mischief.

“Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be, huh Missy? You gonna be my bold girl tonight?”

You answered his question with a kiss on his pillowy lips, letting out a gentle moan when he pressed his tongue against yours. Johnny deepened the kiss and placed a strong hand on the back of your neck. You fought the urge to get on your knees right under the dinner table and get to work.

“Baby. Take me. To bed,” you breathed out in between kisses. Those were the magic words Johnny needed to hear.

“Say less.”

Johnny pushed the chair back and gathered you into his arms, making a beeline for the bedroom. You squealed as he tossed you back onto the bed, taking your breath away in the best way possible.

You gathered your bearings and flipped onto your hands and knees, crawling to where Johnny stood at the foot of the bed. You pawed at his sweatpants, silently gesturing him to pull them down and reveal himself to you. He smirked down at you and gladly fulfilled your request.

“You gonna suck me off real good baby? Huh?” You nodded and took his half-erect member into your hands. You began to stroke him slowly, closing your eyes in pleasure when he let out a guttural groan. Johnny gently rocked his hips against your hand a few times, throwing his head back in relief.

Your hand roamed along the length of his cock, and you admired how warm and muscular it felt against your hand. Your mouth watered at the thought of feeling the heaviness of him against your tongue.

You couldn’t wait any longer and bent forward to take Johnny into your mouth. “F-uck baby that’s it,” he stuttered out. His affirming words encouraged you to give him the best head you could muster at the moment.

You let your tongue swirl around his tip for a few more moments before taking a deep breath through your nose. You took his length deeper into your throat, the action making you gag and produce little messy slivers of saliva. Johnny bit down on his bottom lip and gently pet the top of your head as if to say, good girl.

It brought you so much pleasure to satisfy your man like this. He always poured so much love and attention into you, and this was one of your favorite ways to pour it back into him. Each of his grunts and groans filled you up with exhilarating pride.

You wrapped your fist around the bottom of his shaft while you let your mouth do the rest of the work, suctioning and brushing your lips against him. Your back was fully arched, and you swore you were getting more wet by the minute…

Johnny took one last look into your wide, lust-filled eyes that were silently begging for more praise. His hips stuttered insatiably, then he pulled out of your mouth completely. Entranced and reeling, you sat back onto your heels and pouted up at him. Already fucked out and needy.

“Don’t look at me like that. You were gonna make me blow, woman.”

“Yeah well that was kinda the point, buddy.” You wiped the residual saliva and salty precum from your lips breathlessly, proud of your literal handiwork.

“Calling me buddy while my dick is out is crazy.”

“Ok John, just fuck me already please, and thank you,” you whined, growing uncomfortable at the way your panties stuck to your dripping pussy.

Johnny grinned, stepping out of his sweatpants completely and tossing his shirt over his head. “That can be arranged.”

Johnny grabbed your ankle and yanked you closer to him, peeling your tiny pajama set and panties off. You lay underneath his looming figure, feeling submissive and completely at home all at the same time.

This was the man you were going to spend the rest of forever with.

“Whatcha thinkin’ ‘bout, pretty girl?” Johnny slowly parted your thighs, bringing you back into the moment.

“How much I love doing life with you,” you answered sincerely.

Johnny’s heart swelled, and he pressed an affectionate kiss against the arch of your foot. He took his throbbing length in his hand and slid it against your slippery folds. You let out a soft sigh, bucking your hips greedily. Your body was more than ready to take him in.

He finally slipped into you, letting his jaw drop in sweet relief. “Agh, fuckin’ love you so much, babe. You don’t even know.”

“I do,” you quipped, wrapping your legs around his midsection. You arched your pelvis up against his, letting him get as deep inside you as possible.

“Do you though,” Johnny teased, building up a nice steady rhythm. He loved the way your needy hands traveled up the front of your body to grab onto your bouncing boobs.

“Mmm, I think I’ve got a pretty good idea,” you moaned with a twinkle in your eye, enjoying the way his tip kissed your walls. Johnny shoved your hot body down onto his dick with each harsh thrust.

You always loved how athletic and strong Johnny was. He never made a big deal about it, but his natural athleticism always came out in the bedroom. He was so sweet and gentle with you normally, but you loved being tossed into whatever position and going along for the ride.

Johnny gently caressed your cheek, admiring your gorgeous, flushed face and the way it displayed a look of pleasure. The small, but romantic gesture juxtaposed the way his hips crashed into yours.

Something indescribable washed over you as Johnny brushed his thumb against your soft lips. You were overcome with erotic feelings and eagerly took the thick digit into your mouth, closing your eyes and savoring the taste.

You held onto his wrist with both hands as you moaned around his thumb, letting your tongue swirl around it like you did with his cock earlier.

Johnny thought you looked picturesque like this. He didn’t know how he got blessed with someone as gorgeous as you, but he thanked every single higher power known to man.

He silently wished he could capture this beautiful moment with his film camera, but nothing could ever truly capture how stunning you were like his own two eyes. You looked up at him with a half-lidded gaze, the seductive look making him slightly falter inside of you.

“My pretty baby, always such a good girl. Isn’t that right?”

Your eyes fluttered shut as you moaned out in agreement. He made it so easy to be a good girl for him. He gave you everything you wanted and always spoke to you so gently…

“That’s the first thing I wanna do when we move to the new house you know? Wanna fuck you nice and deep. Just like this. Do you want that too?”

Your grip on his hand tightened as your jaw went slack, moaning out a whiny “yes.”

“Wouldn’t it be kind of crazy if I got you pregnant the first night we moved in? Fuck—“ Johnny groaned before taking a strong hold on your hips, picking up the pace to send you both over the edge.

Your breathy moans picked up in time with each harsh snap of Johnny’s hips. “Fuck baby I’m right there,” you moaned desperately, digging your heels into his toned back.

“What do you think will come first: the wedding or the baby? Guess we’ll find out won’t we?”

You were still very much on the pill, both of you agreeing to stay semi-safe until the wedding day. But the sexiness of the fantasy and the way Johnny was talking had you ready to go to the courthouse tomorrow morning.

Johnny slipped his hand in between your bodies to play with your clit, making you finally tip over the edge. You let out the prettiest sounds as you let go, and moments later you heard Johnny let out some deep sounds of his own.

Johnny pulled out and grunted as he tugged his dick a few more times, sprinkling milky droplets of cum onto your lower tummy. You both caught your breath and came back down to earth. The hot, steamy atmosphere of the room felt like warm satisfaction on your skin.

You looked down at the residual product of your love on your stomach and scooped some of the liquid onto your pointer finger and into your mouth. Johnny caught the dirty action and groaned, exhausted but still so turned on by you.

“Jeez, babe what’s with all this finger stuff today? You’re killing me.”

You giggled and shrugged, showing off the finger you just licked clean. “You deprived me of my strawberry cheesecake, I needed something sweet. What’s a girl to do?”

A look of remembrance flashed over Johnny’s face and he suddenly sprang out of bed, naked as the day he was born.

“What are you doing, weirdo,” you exclaimed and plopped back against the pillows. You heard faint movements coming from the kitchen, followed by quick footsteps coming back to the bedroom. Johnny emerged from the kitchen with one of your Tupperware containers and two spoons. He jumped in bed next to you and opened the container.

Your beautiful strawberry cheesecake was staring back at you in all of its deliciousness.

The end 💋

[lixies-favorite-cookie]

laughter like honey dribbles ◦ l.f

-an inexperienced Felix tries to impress you by forcing his voice deeper. What do you do when it cracks mid-through?

Paring◦ Lee Felix x Fem!Reader

Words◦ 1123

Genre ◦ The fluffiest smut you'll ever read, awkward sexual situations, realistic sex where life isn't all butterflies, orgasms, and rainbows.

Warnings ◦ Reader is described as having a vagina, laughter during sex, Felix being a big baby, embarrassment (what's new), ruined orgasm ig? Ngl i feel like half of this is just a bunch of me yapping and terrible punctuation (if you find any errors PLEASE let me know, thank you).

A/N ◦ This was the very first thing I've ever posted on my tumblr literally ever and so I'm going to be reuploading all of my stuff back onto this account 😃 so why not start off here

~CookieCreates🍪

You can feel him all around you, chest to chest, skin to skin, heart to heart. Your bodies melded together flawlessly, as though you were molded to fit into each other's arms, and, well, each others…

He pumps in and out of you ruthlessly, perfectly tipping you closer and closer to the edge.

“Please,” you whimper, wrapping your legs around his rutting hips, wanting him closer, harder, deeper,

Fuck.

“What do you want, baby?” He slams his hips harder into yours, prodding all the perfect places. You choke, a rush of pleasure vibrating through your bones. “Use your words.” He pants, nibbling on the soft skin of your neck, his voice deep and low, the seductive sultry tilt sends shivers up your spine and tingles to your core. 

“Say something, anything, your voice drives me crazy,” you whine, throwing your head back in bliss. A shrill moan rips from the back of your throat as you feel your orgasm quickly approaching, electric hands reaching out to you. You brush the tips of its fingers; trailing rings of fire seem to be tickling your skin, raging beneath your bones. 

So close.

So close.

So close.

You reach, all you need is,

“Good girl.” Felix doesn't know why he did it, forced his voice lower, deeper. At the time when ecstasy was rushing through his veins, it didn't seem like such a bad idea, until he went so deep it cracked.

He wants nothing more than for the earth to crack open and swallow him whole.

He stops.

You stop.

The world stops for a moment, and all you can see are his big, brown eyes blown wide with shock. The room is completely silent; the only thing being heard is the rough pounding of your hearts and the hard blinking of your eyes which seems like all you guys are able to do. You stay like that forever. Watching. Waiting. For one of you to take one for the team and cut through the growing tension in the room. You curl your lips into your teeth, breaking the awkward stand-off on whose either going to laugh their ass off or pretend that nothing happened and continue to fuck, but with your orgasm long forgotten and the previous raging heat of the room now dwindling to nothing more than a few flickering embers, the laughter that bubbles up in your throat is beginning to be too hard to contain.

Heat floods his cheeks as he blinks, still in this weird form of fight or flight mode. His muscles tense beneath your traveling fingertips, overcome with the humiliation that burns through his chest, and figuring no matter how much he's praying for the earth to swallow him up, Mother Nature is not coming to save him, so he shoves his face into the crook of your neck, hiding from your amused stare instead. 

“Baby,” you chuckle softly, sympathetically, the sound reminding him somewhat of delicate strings of honey that float through the air. Even with the regret coursing through his veins, the sound sticks to parts of his brain that only you are allowed to occupy, so basically, all of it.

He could sum up his life with you in one simple sentence: cotton candy kisses and laughter like honey dribbles. He groans, digging his face deeper into the soft skin of your neck, the same neck that's littered with the love bites he bestowed not even moments earlier.

Oh, how the world changes. 

You can't help the spree of giggles that spill from your mouth.

“Can you come out now, please?”

"No, I'm good. I think I'm going to live here, die here, eat here, sleep here. You might as well get comfortable, baby, cause I'm staying here for the rest of my life!” He says erratically, digging his face deeper into your skin.

“My dramatic baby,” you coo, running your fingers through his hair, still damp with sweat. Time seems to trickle by as soft bouts of breathing fill the air. The heat of his cheeks burns into your neck as you attempt to coddle him out of the embarrassed home he's made in your body.

"S'embarrassing,” he mumbles, voice muddled by the depth in which he has burrowed into your flesh.

“What was that, baby? I couldn't hear you from the home you've made in my neck.” You tease, a playful smirk dancing on your lips. He lifts his head, shooting you an equally playful but unamused glare. You have to push back the laughter that threatens to leave your lips as you take in his red cheeks and shy eyes. He looks so adorable and yet so sexy at the same time. You don't know if you want to jump his bones or bake him a batch of cookies. The best part is that you know you're going to be able to do both. You lift your eyebrows, sending him a look that states, "You have to admit that really was funny," which he reciprocates with a bashful smile, not quite meeting your eyes, giving you a look back that states, "I know it was funny, but right now I'm too embarrassed to say that currently."

That's what you loved about your relationship with Felix—you didn't always have to communicate with words. Your hearts did the talking for you.

“Come on,” you giggle, “you have to admit it was kind of funny.” He rolls his eyes, a wide smile creeping onto his face. "Yeah, I guess it was kind of funny.” 

You snicker, “Thank God, cause the laughter wasn't going to hold itself in for very long.” 

"Ugg, I hate you.” His words were as soft as silk, holding not even a centimeter of malice. He buries himself back into the permanent place he's made his home. 

“But I love you.” You whisper, your lips grazing the crown of his head, soft hairs tickling your chin.

You loved Felix, and he loved you, and even though the mood was ruined and hope for an orgasm was gone, you wouldn't trade it for the world. How could you when he was exactly that. Your world. 

“Okay, as much as I hate to say this, you can't live inside of me forever; my pH levels have to be screaming right now.”

When you were a girl and the coughs started coming, your mother used to give you honey in a spoon and a tickle to the stomach, telling you that laughter was the best medicine, but mixed with the slick amber liquid, your laughter would always sound like honey dribbles, the perfect cure, but with Felix, you never had to worry about being sick because laughter was all the two of you ever spoke.

©CookieCreates (posted: June, 2nd 2024) All rights reserved. Do not translate, copy, or claim my works as yours! I only post on this platform so if any of my works are elsewhere, report and notify me immediately.

[daisywords]

I personally know there are multiple types of editing but I've never seen anyone explain it in a way that actually made me understand what the types of editing actually were (yeah cool that you say {}editing is different from []editing but *how*). So if you wanna explain, feel free to.

Your handy-dandy guide to different types of editing

disclaimer: writers, you can literally edit however works for you. these distinction can be useful to your process, or just if you're looking to hire an editor. Not all editors make distinctions in this way; there are various ways of dividing. But no matter what vocabulary you use, it's best practice to start with broad, big-picture stuff and move towards narrower issues. Some editors do all levels of editing, while some specialize.

Developmental Editing (Is it a good story?)

Developmental editing has to do with the content. For a novel, that means working on the bones of the story. The plot. The pacing. The characters. Do their motivations make sense? Can the reader understand why things are happening? Does the story drag in places, or seem to brush past important elements? Do all of the subplots get resolved? etc. etc. (At this stage an editor is mostly going to be offering suggestions, pointing out issues, and throwing out potential solutions. Beta readers can also be very helpful at this stage to get a reader's perspective on the story beats and characters.)

Line Editing (is it well written?)

Sometimes called substantive editing, line editing is zooming in a little bit more to focus on scenes, paragraphs and sentences. Once we've decided that a scene is going to stay, lets look at the mechanics of how it plays out. Does the scene start to early or too late? Does the writing style communicate the emotions we want the reader to feel? Does the dialogue match the characters' voices? do any of the sentences sound awkward or ugly? Is the movement being bogged down by too much purple prose anywhere, or is there not enough detail? (This can get pretty subjective, so it's important that the writer and the editor are on the same page with taste, style goals, etc.)

Copy Editing (is is correct?)

Copy editing is all about the details. Think grammar and punctuation. Do the sentences make sense? are they grammatically correct? Is the dialogue punctuated correctly? Any misspellings? Should this be hyphenated? Should this be capitalized? Should we use a numeral, or write out the number? etc etc. A significant part of copy editing is matching everything to a style manual (like Chicago or AP) a house style guide (individualized preferences from a publisher, for example), and a project's own internal style sheet (are the character's names spelled the same every time? if we used "leaped" in chapter 4, we shouldn't use "leapt" in chapter 7) Copy editing is still subjective, but less so than the earlier levels, so a copyeditor will be more likely to just go in and make a bunch of (tracked!) changes without consulting the author for everything.

Bonus: Proofreading (did the copyeditor catch everything? are there typos? formatting issues? have any errors been introduced?)

Lots of people say editing when they really mean proofreading. Proofreading is the absolute last thing to get done. It's the one last pass just before something is published. It's important, but as you can see, there's a whole lot more to editing than just checking for typos.

[nananti]

number neighbors - lee chanyoung

❀˖°

summary. you never expected a simple message on a random night to change everything. but there you were, two strangers in different corners of the world, connecting as if you'd known each other forever.

genre. mini smau/written, strangers to friends to lovers, fluff, sorta college au (it's implied anton is in university)

warnings. slight use of profanity, slight age gap (reader is older by two years) mentions of a same sex relationship, please excuse the times on the ss, the date and stuff is added for storytelling purposes-

added warnings. mentions of haobin as the roommates (sorry) angst, kms joke (i think that’s all?)

wc … 360

💬 — nananti talks. this the last part omg so idc that this chapter is long, imma miss this series BAD (╥﹏╥) ANTONNNNNNNNNNNNN, i tried to stall the last episode as long as possible but anyways i hope you all enjoyed this series cause i know i did! please excuse any grammatical errors and or punctuation mistakes (thinking about writing a bonus chapter idk yet)

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

a few days go by and you anton haven’t talked, which was confusing you cause he had just called you the “love of his life.” you’re laying down on the floor in the living room, your roommate and his boyfriend cuddling on the couch. you all are watching tv well more so they’re watching it and you’re staring at your phone screen as if you’re waiting for something.

“y/n why do you keep sighing?” hao spoke looking over at you, “everytime i get a notification it’s not one i wanna see…” “this about that guy?” he asked, “he’s not “that guy” that might just be the love of my life dude.”

“then why don’t you just talk to him?” hanbin adds, “cause he doesn’t want to talk… and i’m respecting that.” both hao and hanbin nod, “well you won’t ever get nowhere at this rate-” hao cuts off hanbin “just go call him, i’m sure he’s also waiting for you to reach out.” “but i wanna give him the space…” “then stay upset.” hao shrugs.

he was right, “ugh, this is so stressful” you groan, i’ll call him. you go to his contact, your finger hovering over the call button… “dude call. him.” “i am.” you press the button and walk off to your room, closing the door.

the phone rings and rings… eventually he answers “hi anton!” you say trying to sound confident but your voice cracks and he laughs “hi beautiful,” he says and you're screaming internally, you both go silent and with it already being quiet in your room the silence was loud.

“soooo…” anton drags out, “oh uhm, i just wanted to hear your voice. i miss you.” “i miss you too,” “fuck anton… why must you be so complicated.” “i’m not even doing anything,” “that’s the point.” you mumble.

“is this the part where you confess to me?” he teases, “we already did that… or at least i thought we did? this is so awkward for me.” “you’re good, it’s just me” “yeah i must die now-” you hang up the phone and throw it onto the bed before collapsing onto the bed groaning.

© nananti. do not copy, re-upload or even translate my work without my permission. please and thank you!

[vamp0rivm]

𝙱𝙴𝚈𝙾𝙽𝙳 𝙻𝙾𝚅𝙴 𝟶1

summary: - a prologue of sorts - you and ellie will never be the same. the words you exchange are so deep seated and visceral, an accumulation of all the hurt. hers are telling; the love she gives is nothing like yours, nowhere near as intense, nowhere near as desperate. she’s closed off to you, and she may never be open again. she’s leaving town before it is even given a proper ending, to go on tour now that her music career is taking off. this is the end. at least for a few years.

warnings: not rlly proofread bc i ball too hard, angst with no comfort yet, dw it’ll come, ellie is dealing with trauma, references to sex.

an: this shit is reaaaaally short cuz it’s just some context for the main story. unfortunately for me, bc whenever i start a story i get rlly anxious until its over, the next one prolly won’t be coming for a while since im gonna be travelling for a bit and i got quite a lot of stuff going on: love you guys, stay safe, never stop talking about palestine. do your clicks. :-)

masterlist

When you first saw Ellie, there were embers in her eyes - front of the pub, she didn’t even need a stage as she sang her heart out. Her captivating nature was enough to elevate her. Everyone else in the room faded to grey in the background, nothing more than a lively buzz punctuating the atmosphere. You were enraptured.

And she was too.

Hesitant glances from across the room at the same time each week, the music and the feeling was electric. The flush of her cheeks melted into the splotches of red from the sweltering heat each time she met your eyes. You sat on that same barstool; she stood in that same spotlight.

And when you started seeing each other, there were so many moments where you felt like your love for her was uncontainable. It spewed out of your pores and overwhelmed your senses every time she was near, even in spite of her soft and reserved demeanour.

It had a hold on you. Each time your lips met, it always became visceral for you, slow and sensual movements transforming into borderline aggression, tongue desperately searching her insides and tearing all the petals off the rose that was in her mouth. You wanted to consume her, suck her up and hold her in the comfort of your rib cage. She was everything to you.

And she was bound to fame. You knew it would come. She was made of stardust, and an aura so golden it would burst if confined in small town pubs any longer.

Sometimes, you gently trace the ridged edges of the polaroid pinned to your wall and feel a pool of warmth gather inside you at the feeling of familiarity her younger face brings. Her face, back then when her eyes seemed greener, her cheeks seemed fuller, her voice seemed clearer. It’s a sick feeling: nostalgia, remembering the way your intensity felt and what it has become.

If you stare too long, you’ll watch the grainy photograph melt and churn, the hues of her skin becoming duller and sunken inwards.

The house is quiet. It’s a silence so dense, you’re almost fooled into thinking Ellie isn’t home. But she is. She’s there, like a ghost lingering in the cracks of your walls.

It feels cold, with a lingering scent of whiskey and a heavy silence that creaks in the hollows of your ears, even for the weeks at a time that Ellie is home.

Maybe it’s a sick thought to have about the woman you would give up your life for, who you would do anything for, who you love more than anything in the world millions of times over, but you prefer it when there’s a distance between the two of you these days. Playing into that constant facade of everything being okay drains you of all your worth and for no return. Ellie gave up on it a while back. It’s just you prancing away solo on that stage now, like some jester.

You’ve become a slave to it, lost yourself out at sea trying desperately to make things okay, whatever that means. She'll never talk to you about it. There’s only scraps left to hide but she clings to them like they’re her lifeblood, tearing them away from you as if you’re just some stranger. Some stranger who watches her crumble to pieces and put herself back together, like she’s a damn mix and match, each time the memories come back to surface in her mind. You beg for more, for crumbs of her resolve but she’s gone. Not coming back.

Nothing has been okay. Nothing has ever been the same since Joel died. Ellie has never been the same. That day, he left and took a piece of her with him. A piece you know you’ll never get back.

There’s no room for argument, what is between the two of you is like glue that barely sticks, so you keep yourself deathly still and hold your breath with a pounding heart and complete desperation, not wanting to ruin anything further. But there’s so much you have to say, and no time to say it.

Instead, you watch her pull further away, see her eyes become duller, notice her absence get longer, feel the sex get colder, watch everything warp and twist and writhe until you’re beyond the point of no return. Until you’re not sure you trust her, or yourself, or the concept of anyone truly loving you the animalistic and self destructive way you loved them at any point in time.

It’s lonely on that island, watching her drift away, the person you thought completed you, she felt incomplete regardless of your presence.

You know the glue has faded when she turns to face you from the foot of the bed, looking so far away as she speaks.

"What? You're moving to LA?" She looks down at the fingers she’s twiddling, and takes a deep breath before continuing.

"Yeah, Max said it wa-"

"Well, how long?" You cut her off, already rising from the bed and moving closer. She meets your eyes but the look she gives doesn’t satiate your anxiety in any way, despite how you beg it to.

"... About that, we were thinking it might be… indefinite for now..."

Your heart stills in your chest and the blood rushes from your head. She can’t even look at you.

"Ellie. What the fuck… How are you just gonna dump this on me now? W-what about us? What are we gonna do? I already barely see you anymore,"

"I... I'm sorry but, I gotta do this. You know I do, if I'm gonna make a caree-"

Desperation takes over, your palms quivering erratically beneath you,

"Ellie… I know you care about your career, but, God, we've been together for so long. I love you so much, please don't do this to me,"

She raises her gaze to the ceiling and forces the lump down the dry, tight hollow of her throat,

"It's not forever, babe, I’ll come home.”

But you’re already shaking your head in dismissal of her blatantly dishonest words,

"You and I both know that that is not true. You’ve been desperate to go since it happened and I know I’m just an obstacle now.“

"That’s… That’s not true. I really can’t do this right now."

"You never can. And it’s because I fucking know you're not coming back, Ellie! And I'm not gonna sit around, waiting for you to call, only ever hearing about you through other people when we’ve been together for so many fucking years! I want you to be happy more than anything-“

"We can call.”

"But you fucking won't! And you're always drunk! You need to talk to me, Ellie, we're never gonna be okay if you don't!”

“I can’t be okay when I’m trapped here! All I can think about is him! I don’t eat, I don’t sleep!”

"But this isn’t gonna make anything better! We have something here! We said we would start a family together, Ellie… LA; you would never have wanted this… Okay? Joel would never have wanted this!"

She gets up and turns without a second thought at the sound of his name and your blood pressure spikes in complete desperation.

"Ellie, Ellie, please. I'm sorry. We can work through this, I promi-"

“I have to go.”

“No, you don’t! You aren’t being fair! You shut me out! You shut everyone out! I’ve been trying so fucking hard!"

"I know, and I’m fucking sorry, but I can't stay here, there's nothing left for me! I love you-"

Your voice is quiet and quivers with emotion that lulls her in, begging her to see that you need her - that she has always come first to you even if you’ve become secondary to her,

"Then prove it. Stay."

But her mind is already made up.

"… I can’t…”

You’re shaking your head,

“I have to do this.”

No, this is seriously the end.

“I'll come home."

You stop shaking your head and look at her.

“No. I can't wait around for you, Ellie, not when we’re like this. If you do this, it's over."

"That's up to you."

The rest of the night seems blurry to you. A deep despair festers to the brim of your skull. You can’t bring yourself to move once she’s gone, can’t bring your mind to calm itself down.

But once you do, the house is plunged into the darkness you encounter. The weight of Ellie still hangs thick in the air and lingers like a whine in the creaks of cold floorboards. As you leave the house you shared with Ellie, you pass through each room, switching the light on and then off, from top till the bottom, until you reach the last.

Click,

and then you leave, once and for all.

Pass round the bend and then by the sea. Watch the waves rise and then crash into each other, right where Ellie used to plant her feet beside you.

more pics of my cat bc she’s just so adorable 😩

[dadsbongos]

wash me down something cold

1.6k words / warnings - arguing couple, cunnilingus

summary - vi stumbles home after another drunken loss, and you're not very pleased.

Vi isn’t self-critical, she knows.

She should be, at least a little.

And she’s not as fast as she should be, either.

(Purpling knuckles crack her ribs right about now, she grunts and retaliates wildly. An outraged animal biting rabidly, no plan or forethought beneath the barrel of a gun.)

And she still blocks with her face.

(One fist knocks her head right, a second whips it left feeling like her neck was about to rip straight from her collar.)

You’d think after countless alleyway black eyes, and canteen brawls ending with split lips, and Sevika’s big metal claw sending her sprawling unto a cold bar floor, and Jinx’s snappy palm, and the fucking butt of a gun -- Vi would’ve learned better. And you’d be wrong.

Because no matter how many times she’s knocked on her ass, Vi gets back up and always chooses wrong.

Like maybe drinking between fights wasn’t the best idea: her vision’s lopsided, the man in front of her spontaneously doubling and swirling around the ring.

Vi loses in a knockout. Roused only seconds later by four sluggish hands raising her from the dirty floor. She elbows off the good samaritans before stumbling onto both feet, tripping over herself mere seconds later and having to catch against the wall. Dazed, Vi looks up into the previously clogged seats and finds them unusually devoid of life.

She looks back to the two who’d been kind enough to hoist her up: blank faces, she doesn’t know if she’s seen them before but they look at her like she has. Like they’re expecting an apology for the rough treatment.

She doesn’t extend one, instead asking, “Where is she?”

Both shrug, one deciding to cut losses here and let the drunk pitfighter scramble her way home. The other, however, stays and asks in return, “Can you walk home?”

An earnest bend between his brows makes the question less sleazy. He frowns as she moans in pain.

“Do you need help getting home?”

Vehemently, she shakes her head -regretting it milliseconds later when a new incessant pounding is introduced. Like that same punch that sent her out is just driving into the side of her temple over, and over, and over again. It needs ice. Or a stiff drink. Or both.

And maybe a kiss. If she’s lucky.

“Okay, if you’re sure…” he backs off, watching silently as Vi claws her way onto ground level between pausing grunts and aches.

***

“Missed you out there,” is all she says. Bitterly. As if she has any right.

“Missed you all night,” you scoff. Arms folded. Scowling. Ugh, she mentally weeps, there will be no coddling or cooing from you tonight then…

“You knew I was working…” she grumbles, sliding a frozen wad of medical wrap bound in common cloth against the surely discolored lump in her head, “Not everyone can get a gig at Babette’s.”

“Oh, as if you’d even want it,” you roll your eyes, so much disdain it makes her want to suck the venom straight out of your tongue, “You don’t listen to me, how could you listen to the clientele at a brothel?”

“I’m sure it’s easy stuff, baby,” she seethes, sucking her teeth obnoxiously as if to punctuate some joke you’re not in on, “Get on your back, look pretty, be sweet: you’ve got all that down already.”

Vi is perpetually on this edge, and you hate it more than your propriety lets you describe, one step in either direction away from fighting or playing. Somehow completely serious while just teasing. She’s hard and soft, protector and predator, ugly and cute. On nights like these, where she’s one half stronger than the other, you wonder if there’s anything of substance here.

Chemistry is great, but do you two have anything to actually cook with?

Would this have worked out if you were two years younger and her one older? Would this have worked out if you two grew up topside? Would this have worked out if you knew her back in prison?

Suddenly there’s two rough fingertips prodding the middle of your forehead. A single jab before wisping down the apple of your cheek, cradling your jawline and propping your face up to look Vi in the eyes.

“You’re thinking nasty thoughts,” she doesn’t bother wondering aloud how you’re feeling anymore, not when she can read it like black ink.

“Why would you keep buying bottles after I told you it’d ruin the night?”

Vi shrugs and crouches to be the one looking up at you now. Clasping her hands around yours in your lap -ice pack clattering onto the floor, “I don’t know, but whatever you’re thinking is way too malicious for it to be real.”

“It felt like you just wanted to upset me.”

“See?” she tilts her head, “Way too malicious.”

“But that’s how it feels,” you have half a mind to just shove her hands off, “You can’t tell me to not feel a certain way just because you think it’s out of character.”

“Well, I’m telling you I wasn’t trying to upset you. I just wanted to get drunk.”

“I think you ‘just want to get drunk’ a bit too much.”

“You’ve told me.”

“And you don’t care!”

“I care, I just- “ she has to stop herself with a sigh, “I’m a grown woman, I can get drunk if I want.”

“You always lose when you drink before matches…”

Vi slinks back, retrieving the ice pack as she goes. Replacing the cooling device on her temple before you stand and snatch it from her.

Vi’s mouth opens, an upset rattle on the tip of her tongue before you slip it back onto her head. Now in a much better spot, the washing soothing sensation making her subconsciously unwind those tense shoulders.

“Good?” you ask quietly.

She hums, eyes fluttering shut, not risking another painful nod.

“This is why I don’t want you drinking before matches…”

“Okay, baby,” wrapped hands come up to curve around your hips, thumbs venturing up to massage beneath your ribs. Squeezing in what you could call affection or frustration, “Let’s not fight about it anymore.”

“Fine, but- !”

Again, she squeezes. Now pulling you closer with the pinch. Her lips pucker obnoxiously, and when you don’t immediately fold she just makes the loudest ‘mwah, mwah, mwah’s until you cannot ignore her. Leaning forward enough to chastely peck her lips is all the reward you allow.

Her pleased little smile follows. Lips still red beneath black lipstick, long since faded against the rim of a glass. A scar swollen over the left side of her cupid’s bow -- that whole side of her face seems slightly raised over the other. In the most insane way, it makes your cheeks hot.

Vi is hard and soft. Rugged and pretty. Round puppy eyes and long lashes and thick eyebrows and shaggy hair and scars. Muscles and lithe fingers and tits pressed against yours.

…was that intentional?

“You weren’t wearing this little number earlier, baby,” Vi finally noticed too, you guess.

“I was just about to go to bed when you finally came home,” shrugging so casually, as if the lacey nightgown didn’t let her see straight down your cleavage.

“Uh-huhhhh,” her right hand snakes downward, toward the bottom hem a little below your pelvis. Her left knocks the ice pack from your grasp before she thunks her forehead to yours. Blunt nails barely skimming your thigh as she grasps the flimsy material, “And let me guess: you were just about to go to bed camo, right?”

Her breath heavies just as yours does, your heated face tucking into her neck as your hands find their way up the back of her jacket.

“Bet there’s nothing under here,” she whispers, dragging up your thin dress until it’s bunched at your navel, “Yeah. ‘About to go to bed’, my ass.”

Pushing thighs against each other in dramatic shame, you whine into Vi’s pulse, “Don’t tease me! I’m just lonely here when you go off out there…”

Vi snorts in your ear and drops to her knees; headache entirely forgotten as blood pumps through her whole body. Jittery hands shock up your thighs, one still cinched around the material of your dress while the other forces you to spread your legs.

“Then let me make up for tonight,” she says it overly saccharine, in that special tone she has that you know means she’s about to say something snarky, “Will you stop biting my head off if I just let you fuck my face?”

“Ugh-!” your aggravated trill is snapped in half because Vi is diving between your thighs.

In a way this is sentimental enough to make up for her -yet again- completely disregarding your opinion, after all the gesture is kind of how you fell in love. When she came into Babette’s with the single request to make ”the toughest girl you got fucking cry”. After that, she kept coming back with your name in her drooling mouth, and hers soon roaring out of yours.

Shaking a hand into her tarred hair, you yank for purchase as she suckles your clit. A pleased sigh fans from her nose just as a cute little hum vibrates from her; plump lips popping off long enough for her to wetly spear her tongue inside you. Warm and sloppy and she fucking loves it. Already nuzzling your lonely clit with a thumb just for you to drip and clench on her.

Words are a waste when she can just make you cum to see that she’s really, super, very sorry.

It’s not like you listen to her either, anyway.

[villainsoftheweek]

look upon me.

rating: explicit. 18+ only. length: 7,381 content: Jonathan Ohnn / The Spot x f!reader, pre and post-incident Jonathan / Spot, reader is described as being shorter than the Spot but everyone is, established relationship, fluff, smut [fingering - receiving, oral - receiving, unprotected p in v], kink(s) [hair pulling, biting, scratching, orgasm control], hurt/comfort, brief obsessive/possessive behavior, this was not edited because I'm lazy

of the things he’d lost that day, there was one in particular that weighed on Jonathan's mind like a bad conscience.

"Stop looking at me like that."

You hadn't changed your gaze to look at him, still locked-in on the meticulously organized papers in front of you as you scanned for the patterns and knowledge you needed. From across the table he was slumped forward, his chin resting on his hands as he did exactly that - look at you. It was so often that he needed to do little more than that to pass the time.

"Like what, baby?"

You couldn't help but smile at the false innocence in his voice. He knew what he was doing, he didn't care.

"Like you're just waiting for me to stop," you replied, eyes still locked on the scratches of ink beneath you. "I'm doing important stuff here."

"I'm trying to do important stuff to you."

The kind of embarrassing laugh that was accompanied by a snort left you, your head shaking slightly as you continued your steadfast refusal not to look at him, unwilling to have your concentration broken completely.

"Jonny, seriously," you were trying your best to sound serious and stern, but the smile on your face didn't quite match it. "I'm trying to make sure no one blows up in this deathtrap you're building at work, and your notes are nonsense."

"My notes are perfectly -"

"In the middle of this sentence you just wrote 'banana'," you pointed out, sliding the paper in question across the table and pointing to the word. "Do you know why you did that?"

"Because I needed them from the store."

You laughed again, the sound he was convinced was the most beautiful in the world, your eyes finally raising to return his gaze. When you made eye contact with him it sucked a deep breath from him - he was always struck by you, even after years of knowing you. He'd accepted long ago it would be this way until he died.

You looked annoyed, yet at the same time so profoundly in love he couldn't believe you were looking at him. You laughed again and he took your distraction as his cue to reach across the table, one of his hands laying atop yours gently.

"You're absurd," you stated, punctuating your words with a nod. Your hand flipped beneath his, threading your fingers together as your thumb brushed over his knuckles - the ones you could reach, anyway. "You either make complete sense or you don't make any at all. Black or white."

Sometimes you talked about him like another subject you wanted to figure out. If it meant you'd stay around until you did so, he was content to continue coming up with ways to puzzle you.

"But you chose me, Atom," he replied, reminding you of something that needed no reminder. Your cheeks burned under his special name for you, eyes locking on his as any annoyance left your body. He knew exactly how to melt away any negativity from you.

"Why do you call me that?" you questioned, head tilting slightly to the side in an adorable fashion that always made him love you just a bit more than he had a moment ago. So many things you did caused the reaction from him, and he was happy to continue to add to the list. "Anytime I ask you just smile. I want to know."

Something in the look in your eye and a feeling that now was when he should give you the answer you wanted had the words spilling out of his mouth. Compared to how long you'd waited it was rather unceremonious, but so many things between the two of you had always been as such. Neither of you were incredibly concerned with things being made into a big deal, and now was no different.

You already knew how much he loved you.

"Atoms make up everything," he explained, his hand squeezing yours lightly as he spoke. "You're my everything."

Your eyes softened further as you took in his words, your heart tightening just as his hand had around yours. With a smile you shook your head again, using your other hand to mark your place on the page you'd abandoned.

"How am I supposed to keep reading through this when you say things like that?"

"I could've been the next Shakespeare if I didn't love science so much."

"Did you even take theatre at any point? Or creative writing?"

"No, I took anatomy instead," that cheekiness was returning to his tone, the need heavy in his tone. You raised an eyebrow at his words, already expecting something along the lines of what would come next. "Wanna see what I learned?"

He wiggled his eyebrows playfully, a grin that you loved more than anything in the world spreading across his face as he leaned forward in his seat, waiting for permission to come closer, waiting for you to give in. You couldn't help it when you looked deep into his eyes, seeing how badly he needed you…you had to give him something.

As you nodded he immediately grabbed your chair to move it closer, only for you to reach out and grab the table, clicking your tongue against your teeth.

"Well, I still have to finish reading, don't I?"

"But…"

"Aw, don't pout, Doctor," you cooed, turning your head and leaning to kiss his cheek softly. "I'm sure you can find a way to prove how hard you studied while I finish up."

Yeah, he could.

The security deposit the two of you had put on this apartment was forgotten as he yanked his chair across the wooden floor, settling it right next to yours. As he got comfortable you began your work again, the switch of your own activated - when it was time to focus, you could always be relied upon to do so.

Even when one of his large hands slid across your chest, cupping one of your breasts tenderly. The first touch from him was always cautious and respectful, waiting for you to say a single word of disagreement. You nodded, eyes briefly flickering to his before you focused back in one your task.

Thankful for the oversized v-neck sweater you'd worn today he slid a hand into the soft fabric, mentally thanking you for having removed your bra already when you got home. The soft flesh of your breast felt perfect in his hand as he massaged it tenderly before his attention quickly turned.

His thumb brushed over your nipple gently before circling the sensitive bud, his eyes still focused on your face and searching for any sort of reaction. Even when he pinched not a single sound left you, your face unchanging as you read his words.

And while he wanted to let you focus, he couldn't stand to not hear you at least moan for him.

He abandoned his hold on your breast to hike the knee length skirt you were wearing up around your waist, gently pushing your panties to the side - still somewhat waiting for you to stop him. You didn't, convinced you could outlast him in this little game the two of you were now playing, but honestly not really caring if you lost.

You almost lost completely when he leaned down, his tongue circling your nipple as his index finger circled your clit. You slipped - it was understandable - and a soft moan filled the room, your eyes momentarily falling closed as he sucked your nipple gently before looking back up into your face.

"Well finally," he dragged the final letter out as he pushed his middle finger into you, running his tongue over the same nipple again. "You're so wet already."

"I like reading your work," you confessed in a broken voice, allowing yourself a brief moment to forget your focus. You felt his mouth fall open in shock and the groan that he let out at your words.

"Oh."

He kept his mouth busy, as he often liked to do when you were alone together in various ways, but where he chose to focus his attention on proving his anatomy skills was with his hand. As he pumped his longest finger into you he stroked your walls lovingly, pushing against the spongy spot behind your clit carefully and with the perfect amount of pressure each time.

When he pushed his index finger inside you as well, with ease considering how wet you were now and with a downright pornographic sound he couldn't help but moan as he suckled on your breast.

You were trying to focus still - a remarkable feat, mind you, considering how good his fingers felt pumping into you at this speed and with this amount of care - but one of your hands came up to hold the back of his head, fingers pulling at the messy strands of his hair.

"Jonny…"

Your moan immediately had his attention, his mouth abandoning you so he could flash you a cheeky grin, his cheeks deep red in color and pupils blown wide as he took in your face again.

"Oh, now you want attention?"

You blew a deep breath out of your nose, giving his hair a gentle tug as you met a pump of his fingers with a grind of your hips.

"I only have one more page to make sense of…"

"But…"

"You can wait five minutes…"

"I can't," he whined, his voice ridiculous in this tone but earnest - he really couldn't wait for you much longer before he got excessively needy, but you loved pushing him to the edge sometimes. "I swear to…whatever the hell scientists swear to I can't, my tongue needs to be in you now or I swear…"

You pushed his head upward to claim his lips in a heavy kiss, a heavy groan from him falling against your mouth as you licked across his bottom lip before whispering lightly.

"If you're a good boy and let me finish I'll let you cum in me tonight."

If he wasn't so excited about the promise you'd made he would have been embarrassed by the high pitched moan that he allowed to rip through his chest, instead he could only sit spellbound as you sank your teeth into his bottom lip lightly, pulling back slightly before pulling away entirely. You licked your lips slowly, eyes holding his gaze for a moment before you continued.

"But only if you let me finish, Jonny," you warned, turning your attention back to the documents on the table and releasing your hold on his hair. "D'you think you can manage that?"

"Yes," he promised with a huff, rolling his eyes at the fact he had to wait…he understood your fears about his job but at the moment would insist there were other things that deserved attention. He tentatively pumped his fingers back into you, not even risking a glance at your face now. "But…to clarify, I still want my head between your thighs first."

"Jonny," you warned again, flashing him one last serious look with your eyes, though a light smile played on your lips. He removed his fingers from you with another huff, lifting his hand to wrap his lips around them with an appreciative groan.

Aware of your attention on him again and your mouth falling open he grinned as he released his fingers with a pop, shrugging his shoulders unceremoniously.

"Sorry," it was the fakest use of the word he'd ever used, you were aware of that. "Just speaking my truth."

But he was capable - hell, he had a PhD, he could be patient if he really needed to be…no matter how badly he didn't want to be. No matter how hard his dick was throbbing against the black sweatpants he had chosen to wear around the apartment.

He waited until you started putting the papers back in a neat stack, instead choosing to stand quickly, grabbing you by the waist and leaning down to claim your lips in a hungry, somewhat messy kiss. Thankful you returned his kiss and chose calculated movements to encourage it into something more precise, he focused on turning the two of you until the backs of your thighs were hitting the edge of the table.

"Now," he whined out in a heavy breath. "Need you now. Please, now."

He was begging against your lips as he worked the zipper and button open on your skirt, pushing both it and your panties to the ground and kicking the fabric out of the way in hopeful anticipation. You could feel his hard cock pressed between the two of you and knew he had done the best he could in waiting, but that didn't affect how you loved to tease him still.

"You're ravenous tonight," you pointed out in what could be described as little more than a purr, nipping at his bottom lip again to pull another moan from his chest. He returned the favor before he stood straight - well, straight for him - encouraging you to lay back against the table.

"I'm about to show you how much."

He found his own seat in the chair you had been in and leaned forward as his hands slid to grasp your knees, encouraging your legs apart and baring your dripping sex to him. One of his hands trailed upward and he watched in awe as his fingers glided up and down her soaked folds, back and forth, spreading the slick he had already earned.

He continued this motion, adding in gentle rubs to your clit, as he kissed up your inner thigh, enjoying the soft feeling of your skin against his lips as you moaned at the familiar scratch of his beard.

"Jonny…please…"

"Oh, now who's needy?"

But he didn't tease like you, he wasn't able when it came to you, and it wasn't like he could wait any longer. Before you could blink again he had leaned forward, parting your folds with his tongue as he ran the thick muscle through them, well intent on tasting every inch of you again like it was the first time.

"Oh, you're indescribable," he grumbled against you after he'd flicked his tongue against your clit, glowing as your fingers found their way into his hair again, holding him close. Any complaints you'd ever made about his smart mouth were always forgotten when his tongue was worshipping you.

"Feels so good, Jonny," you moaned breathlessly, pulling his hair to encourage him back to what he had been begging for.

With a deep groan he continued, alternating between sucking on your clit and running his tongue between your folds, filling the apartment with lewd sounds as he slurped at your soaked pussy, ensuring every inch received his attention. He began to fuck his tongue into you, his nose pushing against your clit as he devoured you exactly how you wanted.

And that's how he got his first reward, your walls fluttering around his tongue as you came around him, your vision clouded as your orgasm rushed through you. As you moaned his name and your shaking thighs came closer around his head he didn't stop, instead continuing to lick at your sex like he was already setting out to pull another from you.

Your whines and whimpers of overstimulation filled the room, pulling at his hair as you fought to catch your breath and wiggle. He took the silent instruction and removed his mouth from your core, instead kissing along the thigh that hadn't received any earlier. He couldn't resist in full, though, his index finger slipping through your folds and into your still quivering sex.

"So wet," he cooed, just before he sucked a purple hickey to the inside of your thigh. "My dick's gonna slip right in."

"Please," you whined again, fully aware that now the tables had turned and you were the desperate one. You knew what Jonathan fucked like on nights where he was feeling like this and you were eager to feel him stretch you again, but through your orgasm's lingering haze you weren't sure how constructed of a sentence you could muster.

"Aw, baby, that's so cute," you could hear the smile in his voice and against your skin as he continued to kiss wherever he could reach, his lips now pressing to the hips he loved to grab so much. "Beg a little more for me?"

To be clear, he was asking - not telling.

"Jonathan," you whined, releasing your hold on his hair to instead reach for his shoulders, hoping to encourage him to finish his climb back up your body. You weren't thinking clearly, it was obvious - you may have thought the two of you were in bed but you weren't, and there was no way this old wooden table would support what he was about to do to you. "Please. Oh fuck please just…please. I need you."

"What d'you need?"

Okay, so maybe he could tease a little…he so rarely felt like he had any power in this world and these moments where he had you, the most beautiful woman in the world, at his fingertips were irresistible.

"Want you to fuck me," you whined, heart bursting as he finally gave into you and reached to press his lips to yours in a gentle kiss. His finger was lazily pumping into you still, holding you on the brink of overstimulation - he truly did know exactly what to do to your body.

"You want me to fuck you?" he questioned, a falsely puzzled tone behind his voice. "Or you need me to fuck you?"

"Semantics."

"Say it."

His voice snapped slightly lower, just enough in the way it did when he was trying to communicate his seriousness - something he honestly rarely did with you. He would never yell at you, but that didn't mean he couldn't let you know the gravity behind his words in other ways. He needed you to say it - exactly it, and to accentuate his point, he removed his finger from you altogether.

"I need you to fuck me, Jonny," you begged against his lips, turning slightly to press lazy kisses to the corner of his mouth until you reached lower, kissing his neck in the spot you knew would melt away this dark streak.

He stood up immediately, shoving his sweatpants and boxers down to the floor and kicking them to join your skirt, fisting his cock and rubbing it through your folds to gather the mixture of cum and his spit that lingered between them.

"Don't tease," you whined again, eyes meeting his in a hope to convey your desperation. His other hand reached to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing across the bone before it trailed to your bottom lip, repeating the gentle motion as he quietly shushed you.

He started slipping his painfully hard, leaking cock inch by inch into you, trying to take his time and savor the feeling of each push, but by the time he had sheathed his cock fully in you there was something already unmistakably unhinged about his movements, his hand that had been between your thighs grasping your hip tight.

"Fuck…fuck…" he groaned as he tried to force himself to still for a moment, instead finding he couldn't help but pull completely out and thrust back in roughly, his fingers holding you hard enough to bruise - which honestly, you hadn't been aware he was strong enough to do so until now, and this was far from the first time the two of you had fucked.

"Jonny, o-oh my…"

"Fuck," he groaned out as he continued to thrust into you desperately, his movements hard and a little sloppy as he tried to find a pace he liked. When he finally settled on one he leaned forward to kiss you again, pounding into you with your bodies pressed so close together you could hear obscene sound of his balls slapping against you. "You're so perfect. You're so so so perfect."

You kissed him until you were breathless, repeated moans covering his lips as he continued with the perfect pace to match how feral he felt for you now - quick and hard, almost bruising, desperate to coax you toward another orgasm and earn his own.

You dragged your nails down his back - you might had even drawn a couple of specks of blood with how rough you accidentally slipped into - kissing back down to his mouth as you fought for a desperate breath through moans and mewls. You made a mark of your own on his neck, a spot he would wear with pride for the days it would last on his skin.

"I want you to cum again for me," he managed out between heavy breaths, one of his hands sliding to hold the back of your head gently. "Before….before I…"

"Before you fill me up," you finished for him, your tone breathy and lascivious before you ran your tongue over the hickey you'd just given him.

He moaned - whether it was at your words or tongue didn't matter - and grabbed your hip harder, his pace faltering again into something much for harder and carnal as his mind was overtaken by the idea of spilling his hot load into you.

"Gonna…gonna fill you…" he began muttering promises through breaths and thrusts, any semblance of normal speech pattern forgotten. "So fucking full."

"Please."

"Yeah, baby," he promised, managing to fight through the primal thoughts in his mind to carry out another delicate action, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Know you love it. Go ahead and milk it out of me."

His hold on your head remained as he released your hip, slipping his hand between your bodies instead to rub your clit with purpose, fully intent on not allowing himself release until he felt you spasm around his cock.

With the loudest moan of his name he'd perhaps ever earned you threw your head back, thankful his hand was there to protect it from the hardwood as your vision turned white, the temperature in the room seemingly one-thousand degrees as you clasped your legs around his waist, holding him closer.

His thrusts continued to get sloppier, and when he felt your orgasm approaching a more manageable end, he opted to ask before finding his own release.

"Can I…can I…"

"You owe me two minutes that you interrupted…when I was trying to clean…"

"Baby, no," he begged, his head shaking as he pressed gentle kisses to your cheeks and forehead and nose, hoping his sweet affection would earn him favor. "Oh, please, no…"

"Not yet."

It was a wonder that he could continue fucking you like this with how hard he was, the discomfort and need to cum evident by his begging and whining. When you finally gave him the permission he was seeking his orgasm was immediate - thick, hot ropes of his cum filling you so much it didn't take long for the thick liquid to start leaking out around his cock.

You were both overly sensitive, but that had never stopped him before and it certainly wouldn't now as he continued to drag his half-hard cock through your painted walls, content on doing so until you were a mess, pleading with him that you'd had enough and it was too much.

He listened, removing his cock from your freshly fucked sex and sitting in the chair that waited beneath him, eyes fixated on your leaking cunt. He couldn't resist - three fingers gathered the mixture of fluids that was flowing from your pussy and he pushed it back in with little consideration toward your overstimulation.

You shot up with a gasp, sitting upright just as he removed his fingers again, wasting no time and unwilling to hear complaints as he dove back between your thighs, messily licking and slurping at your hole until he felt enough of your combined releases were on his tongue. He leaned back up, one of his hands coming to the back of your head to pull you down to meet him in a heavy kiss, passing you the thick liquid he held on his tongue and continuing to lick at your mouth as it slid down your throat.

When he broke the kiss for breath his eyes were full of so much love you thought he might break your shared "no marriage" rule and propose.

"I fucking love you," he finally breathed out, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you into his lap gently to continue the shared moment of pure bliss.

"I love you, Jonny," you promised in return, nuzzling your head against his shoulder as you curled against him. "In every universe."

There was no way for you to know that, and yet, it didn't sound like too much of an impossibility.

"Atom…"

His affectionate tone was matched by the loving way he pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose before he claimed your lips again in the softest kiss of the night, letting you climb out of his lap afterwards knowing there were things to be done after sex.

"'m ordering a pizza before we go to bed," he called after you as you grabbed your sweater from the floor, using your other hand to attempt to run your fingers through your messy hair.

"'m gonna shower," you replied, grabbing the other pile of clothes to add them to the hamper. He loved how easy things had become between the two of you in these recent years - he wouldn't give it up for all the power in the world. "Extra cheese or I'm breaking up with you."

"What kind of monster do you take me for?"

"The kinda monster that better hurry up so he can join me in the shower."

You took him by surprise by leaning behind him, pressing a kiss to his cheek as your arms hugged around his neck briefly. Sometimes he didn't know how or why or for how long it would last, but he knew for now, at least, you loved him in ways writers try to convey in novels.

"I'll be so fast you'll think I teleported there."

Of the things he’d lost that day, there was one in particular that weighed on his mind like a bad conscience. The reason for so many of what he used to hold in his heart as his best days, the very same that now incessantly repeated in his mind, an unremitting reminder of what he used to have. 

When he declared he had lost everything due to the incident, he was speaking of you. 

It hadn’t taken long for him to reach through to steal a look at his lost love, and while he told himself it needed to be something that didn't become a habit that's exactly what happened. Some things never changed - he was still more than happy to do nothing more than gaze at you in silence, enjoying how you adjusted annoyances as you read, the way your nose crinkled in focus, the way you fell asleep on your desk, the way you played with the necklace he'd given you when you were nervous…

He'd almost broken his promise to himself several times now, happening across you on a bad morning and an even worse night when the emptiness in your chest at the loss of him was too much to bare, the false face you normally wore too much effort to carry on forever. You missed him, and sometimes you couldn't bring yourself to do more than sob that fact into the night, clutching the lab coat wearing teddy bear he'd gifted you to your chest.

He was positive he still had a heart, because he could feel it breaking every time.

Now was one of those times, perhaps the worst he'd seen you endure, and he'd only been watching for a minute now…at least, that's what he thought, though he wasn't keeping track of time. Your eyes were burning red and you had a framed photo of the two of you lying on the bed next to you, one of his old shirts hugging your frame in familiarity.

“Jonathan?”

The sound of his name from your lips again punched another hole somewhere in him far deeper than any other. You felt him - without words you knew he was there, his presence occupying your space in a familiar comfort that you’d come to accept was irreplaceable. So he had lost track of time…enough time for you to feel him again, the man you'd spent so many hours with in the past exactly like this.

“Jonny?”

He wanted to disappear, a war waging in his mind between the profound desire to hold you again and the need to hide what he’d become from you. Instead, he was frozen, even his mind quiet as the way his name rolled off your tongue again filled his ears sweeter than any memory. He'd promised himself that you would never have to look at what he had become, insistent that you thinking he was dead was better.

“Please, Jonny…I can feel you,” your voice broke more and more with each word, desperate to plead to him enough to persuade him. “I know…I know you’re there, somehow. Please.”

What was he supposed to do when you begged like this? You used to beg in the sweetest ways, he'd never made you beg for anything in earnest, not through tears like this…

Seeing you like this because of him made him feel more villainous and monstrous than anything else he'd done. It was anxiety inducing to watch you beg for the man he used to be, knowing he could never again give you what he once did. It made him sick - every cell felt sick, every portal poisoned and shrinking, withdrawing within himself.

But one more sob from you and a lapse in judgement from him led to a wrong step, his form stepping through a portal directly at the foot of your bed before he could take it back.

Oh, how he'd missed your bravery. You were sitting in a flash, eyes wide and puzzled but not at all afraid as you looked upon him - the new him. For the first time he had to wonder if this form blushed - he felt his cheeks heating like he would have before, but that didn't mean they looked the same. You leaned against the headboard, away from him which was exactly the opposite of the pull you felt to him.

A familiar pull - one that you'd only ever felt before with one person, with your person. Your eyes resolved in knowingness and you glanced at the photo beside you before your eyes found what was technically his face again, eyebrows pulling together as you worked through your puzzled thoughts.

At least you'd stopped crying.

"J…Jonathan?"

A breath was sucked from somewhere in him and filled the room with a heavy sigh saturated in relief - he couldn't deny how right it felt that you were speaking to him again, seated in the same room…seated in the room you'd shared.

"Remember…you used to say I was so black or white," he cleared his throat that suddenly felt far too dry, an oversized hand coming up to the back of his neck to rub nervously. This is where he used to run his fingers through his hair, you noted internally as your eyes watered again hearing his voice. "Either a genius or an idiot. Now I'm black and white all at the same time…"

His rambling was cut by your arms flying around his middle, the size different between the two of you that had always been there now even more significant in his new form. He stood frozen in his place, form rigid as you squeezed him as though you would never let him go.

"You're here."

"I…I'm here," his voice was shaking and he wanted to run, he could feel the unease spreading across his body and expanding like a sickness. But the worse he felt, the more the holes shrank…everything about him was on-edge. "But I'm not me anymore, baby. I'm…this."

"You're you," your voice was that sweet, understanding tone you'd used in college with him, before the two of you had even dated and when you were both pretending you were nothing more than best friends. He'd always said it was like a lullaby to a baby. "I felt you."

But he didn't want to hear it now, and something dark and incendiary inside him screamed that you were lying - that there was no logical scenario where you were okay with how he looked.

"Don't patronize me," his voice snapped into something dark, holes flaring out again and spreading to almost encompass him in darkness, almost like a shield. "Don't. I know what I look like. I might not have eyes but I can see. I can see that I look like…a fucking freak. An abomination."

You couldn't imagine what he was feeling. There was no lying to him, he was a reasonable, intelligent man - he knew that this form was not what anyone would describe as perfect and was certainly not what you had fallen in love with, and there was nothing you could say that would convince him otherwise.

"You look like something tragic happened to you," your voice was unfaltering, the delicate tone coaxing him into the relaxation he used to always feel with you. "But I don't care what you look like, and I never have."

"It's not like a bad haircut or weight gain, Atom," he snapped. The vulnerability he was displaying was difficult to navigate as there was truly never someone to go through what he was…there was no anecdote to help him. These days, his default setting was anger.

Anger was better than anything else.

"I'm hideous. Look at me."

"I am," you said quietly, your voice dropping to just above a whisper. You looked right in his face, unwaveringly. He longed to kiss you more than ever before. "I'm looking right at you, Jonny."

That quieted him as he lost himself in the tranquility of you - you were the only one who had ever understood him enough to walk him through the difficult emotions and that was still true, even with his sorrow and rage felt and expressed tenfold. He'd thought so before, always known so with no scientific way to prove it until now…you were made for him.

And him alone.

"My Jonny."

Before he could register the movement your hands were resting on his chest and the walls he was trying to built crumbled, the spots essentially exploding into dozens of smaller ones all across his body, avoiding where your hands rested. As you lightly stroked your fingertips there they merged again to several larger, relatively heart shaped blobs.

He hadn't felt a gentle human touch since the incident, and he'd never thought he'd feel your touch again. If it was possible, he could have died on the spot. It was obvious that he was lost for a moment, forgetting the danger he presented to you, forgetting to maintain control.

But only for a moment, the horrors ever present.

After temporarily losing himself in the haze of feeling your touch again his shaking hands flew out, grasping your waist tight as his breathing came in heavy, concentrated breaths. Instead of letting him retreat within himself you stepped closer, hands slipping as close to his shoulders as you could reach.

"I thought I'd lost you forever," you said quietly, already teaching yourself how to get used to looking up into his face and not seeing his eyes. "And here you are."

"I lost everything," the vulnerability was shining through more as he opened himself to you again, almost having to reteach himself for a moment that you were someone he could share his emotions with. "My dream job…gone. My body…which was no temple to begin with but now I'm just this…this thing. I lost…I lost you. My dream girl…my everything. I lost my everything."

He saw the pain flashing in your eyes as you listened to him - as you empathized as you always had, your heart connected to his.

"You found me again," your voice was breaking again as you spoke, desperate for him to understand that all the times you'd said you'd love him no matter what you'd meant it. "I'm right here."

You moved your arms lower to wrap around his waist, stepping closer - but he ripped himself from you the moment you were close to connecting your head to his torso, the holes once again flaring in fear.

"No!" he shouted, immediately kicking himself for shouting at you. He took a deep breath to steady himself, swallowing hard as he calmed his emotions enough to speak again without lashing out. "You can't…the spots…the holes…"

Your brow pulled together like it always had when you were feeling inquisitive and you only sought to close the distance between the two of you again, stepping forward as you took in every inch of him.

"Holes?"

"They're portals," he explained, suddenly feeling self conscious about himself in ways he hadn't experienced since his one attempt at a high school dance. "I'm still figuring out how they work…and I don't want to lose you. I could really…really lose you."

He had missed this expression on you - when you were so deep in thought it was obvious your full focus was on solving the puzzle presented to you. He'd thought of this long ago and come to the conclusion that you would want to study him - to understand him more.

He wasn't sure he was ready to be the experiment under your scrutiny. But he was certain he could never be away from you again.

"Portals to where?"

"Everywhere," just like a doctor and patient, you were asking questions, formulating a hypothesis, he was providing the data. How many times had the two of you lived this scenario? Was now really so different? He remembered how you used to look at him in amazement…your expression now was truly no different than it ever had been. "Sometimes just back through another portal. Sometimes to other dimensions to other…universes. I've gotten lost and…I'd never forgive myself if you fell through. You can't be close to me."

"You just need to learn how to control them."

"I can't," he breathed out, his words exasperated with a break in the middle to accentuate it. It was all he could manage - it was all he had to.

"You can," it wasn't a tone full of false hope, it was decisive and resolute - you believed he could, and with your belief, he would try. "It's just another thing to learn, and you're the smartest man I know."

Before he could react to your sudden movements you closed the distance between the two of you again, sticking your hand through one of the holes in his arm with a deep breath.

"Hey -!"

Almost instantly your hand reappeared through his chest and a sigh of relief ripped through him, a puzzled smile spreading across your face as you wiggled your fingers. "Intriguing," he swore he could hear a familiar purr behind your words, and he had to wonder if you were trying to distract him from the complex mix of emotions he was experiencing. "How unique."

"You…you mean how freakish," he attempted to correct, focused on the feeling of you reaching into him. "This uhm…this has to be weird."

"You've stuck fingers in me," you defended, the playful tone in your voice one of the exact things he'd missed. Then again, in truth, he'd missed everything about you, even the parts he once didn't love.

"Atom…"

You pulled your hand back through him which earned another relieved sigh from his chest, his nervous breaths returning as you wrapped your arms around his torso again, your head finding a rightful position lying against his chest.

"Just hold me. You'd never let yourself lose me."

Your faith in him was misguided and foolish, the love you felt for him clouding your mind from the horror that you held in your arms - he was convinced of it. He froze, unwilling to give into even the slightest movement that would create a domino effect, unwilling to do anything to increase the risk he posed to you.

But seconds passed without incident until he'd been allowing you to hold onto him for several minutes. You were still here, still against him, still warming him up in ways he had longed to feel again for what had already felt like an eternity. Slowly, his arms circled you, pulling you slightly closer, clutching to you like you might still disappear at any moment.

As the minutes ticked away his arms got tighter and tighter, his hands resting on your lower back like you were made of porcelain.

"You kept all of my stuff…"

His voice was still so unsure, like he felt he was intruding…like he didn't belong here, in his own home. Like he didn't deserve to be holding you again. You nuzzled into him further in response, your hands flattening against his back to hold him against you tighter.

"I could never get rid of anything that makes me think of you," you whispered, eyes closed as you soaked in the moment, feelings both familiar and new.

"I haven't…laid in a bed since…"

He trailed off and you could feel the energy around him darken - you knew anger was a secondary emotion and in this instance it followed unimaginable hurt.

"Come to bed with me," you weren't asking, it was an instruction - voice unwavering and unquestioning. You looked up into his face again, and it was just like it had always been - you looked at him like you loved him.

"But why would you…ah -"

You really didn't mind the new height, in fact him towering over you more than ever before was causing other feelings that weren't quite appropriate for this sweet lovers' reunion, but it did make standing on your tiptoes more obsolete than ever, your lips barely reaching his chest. His words were cut off, a whine taking their place when your lips connected with his skin. He melted like it was the first time you kissed him, any residual panic withdrawing further into him as he held you tighter.

You felt the shift in his energy and smiled against him as you pressed more kisses wherever you could reach, mindful when you approached a spot, lips continuing to brush against him as you spoke.

"If you get into bed with me I can kiss more of you," "You're so tall now, Jonny. Can't reach."

One thing that hadn't changed was his complete willingness to obey you, to give in to your every request, to fulfill every instruction…it continued to be true as he scrambled into the bed, nearly groaning at the familiar feeling of his pillow and the sheets you'd insisted they needed again. The seconds that passed with him alone - with him getting used to his new height in the bed he once fit comfortably in, getting used to controlling the holes (when was the last time he'd laid down?).

But when you climbed into the bed beside him, the anxieties vanished. You moved as close to him as you could, one of your hands delicately resting on his torso while the other reached to his face, stroking your thumb across his cheek delicately.

It was the kind of moment where your eyes close in serenity, and somewhere inside him he felt it. Maybe he was a fool for thinking this could last, but with the multiverse at his fingertips, he'd always reach out to you.

All of the versions of you were meant to be his.

And they would be.

masterlist. marvel masterlist.

[tm-trx]

Pit Babe 2, ep 2

Notes From the TV Journal

(warning: may will contain inconsistent punctuation/capitalization, stream of consciousness notes-to-self, and rampant speculation)

Wow Babe, jump straight to Chris being involved in Way’s death with zero evidence. I get it though. Grief is already a tough thing to deal with.

Why’s Sonic being so cagey?

I love it so much that when Charlie caught Babe leaving, Babe stopped and let Charlie join him, even though he clearly intended to go out and brood on his own. It's such a cliche for a guy to zoom off and ignore his partner in this kind of situation. It’s a small but significant moment that shows how healthy their relationship is.

And there it is: the foundation for Charlie’s future doubt about whether Babe is cheating on him; nicely done show.

you tell 'im Kenta, stick to your guns and stay away from that asshole

well shit

Okay that’s cool, Tony has a mole in X-Hunter to bring them down. Is it gonna be Dean? was his ‘death’ staged for that? seems kind of obvious

ew no thank you to finger sucking as a means of cleaning a cut - new squick unlocked

“quit fixing random stuff when you’re stressed” oh look it’s me

I like that someone is having the conversation that keeping their senses is up to the person.

North’s getting promoted up - good for him.

Dean! Dean’s not dead, nice.

Is it really that straightforward: Dean shows up at Alan’s for help after being broken out of prison and “shot” - Alan hires him at X-Hunter (despite him being a prison escapee who I’d imagine the police are looking for???) - Dean reports back to Tony as the mole.

They’re really joking about wrenches.

The Willy/Babe confrontation in the bar was excellent all around: tense and kind of hot. The guy playing Willy is great; I already despise the smug little so-and-so.

Babe really can’t stand the smell of any other alpha than Charlie - love the consistency

So the photo was a setup right? Willy’s trying to either throw Babe off his game even more by interfering in his relationship or he’s working for Tony and this is part of the plan.

I can’t decide if I want Willy to be working from his own agenda or working for Tony.

Well that was the wrong thing to say Babe - jealous Charlie is everything I wanted and more.

They’re doing this on open stairs? That’s so unsafe!?

You know it’s serious when the glasses come off.

Okay that was really well filmed wow - loved the close ups on Charlie’s face.

But also, Charlie, please take a look at that selfie again: Babe looks pissed to even be breathing the same air as Willy.

Final Thoughts

current count of possible Tony Moles:

Dean (obvious)

Willy (working for Tony but has his own agenda)

Chris (is actually Way)

I really like that they used the outside track for a non-race scene; helps make the world feel more lived in.

Pooh’s line delivery still feels a little flat sometimes, but I absolutely love how he’s playing Charlie this season. Charlie has grown a lot in the year that has passed and it really shows the more we see of him. He feels settled in his work and his relationship with Babe.

Anyone else kinda annoyed by the behind the scenes clips coming up so fast after the episode ends? I hate being thrown back to reality so fast. Let us savor the episode before showing us the cast pretending, pls and thank you show.

My Pit Babe 2 recaps: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13

[bitemevanitas]

Bonne Année

𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦: The Case Study of Vanitas

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Vanitas x GN!Reader

𝐓𝐲𝐩𝐞: Oneshot

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: You and Vanitas sharing New Year's first kiss

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 581

𝐓𝐖: Likely inaccurate for the 19th century (?)

•

Paris had never looked so alive.

The flickering glow of kerosene lamps spilled onto the streets, combining with gold and white festoons strung between buildings. In the distance, the Eiffel Tower loomed, its upper platform adorned in anticipation of the New Year’s fireworks.

Street performers filled the crisp evening air with the sounds of violins and accordions, while laughter rippled through the crowd as couples danced or clapped along to the rhythm. Among the revelry, a man in a jester costume weaved through the throng, handing out flowers to unsuspecting people. He didn’t speak, relying instead on exaggerated gestures that drew delighted smiles from both children and adults.

At the edge of the gathering, Noé stood in animated conversation with Dominique, his expressive movements occasionally catching your eye. Earlier, he had been reluctantly dragged out by Dominique, keeping to the quieter edges of the celebration. His mood seemed to have shifted.

You lingered by a quaint boulangerie that had stayed open late for the occasion. Its warm windows glowed invitingly as you watched two children spinning each other in a clumsy but joyful dance. Their laughter was infectious, and though you didn’t join in, a soft smile touched your lips. Then, unexpectedly, something bright red appeared in your line of sight: a candied apple, glossy and skewered on a wooden stick.

“Here.”

You blinked and turned. Vanitas stood beside you, his coat and scarf shielding him from the winter’s chill. He wasn’t looking at you, his eyes scanning the crowd instead, as though offering the apple out of obligation rather than sentiment. When you didn’t immediately take it, he gave an impatient huff, shaking the skewer slightly. “Don’t make me hold this all night.”

Bemused, you accepted the apple. “Thank you?”

“Mhm,” he replied, his tone flat.

You tilted your head. “I didn’t ask for one.”

“So, what?” he snapped, still avoiding your gaze. “I just thought you might want it.”

“Did you get one for yourself?”

“You know I can’t stand that sweet stuff.”

You stifled a laugh. Classic Vanitas. He’d vanished earlier to greet Dante and left you alone here, yet now, he returned with a candy apple, as if that made up for it. A lively waltz began in the distance, drawing more people into the growing celebration as midnight approached. Pocket watches flicked open with suspense. The Eiffel Tower stood like a silent watchman, waiting to erupt in fireworks.

“So,” you said, breaking the silence, “are you excited for the show?”

Vanitas scoffed. “Fireworks are overrated.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Then why’d you come?”

He finally glanced at you, his blue eyes catching the light. Their usual sharpness was softened by something unreadable. “Because you asked me to.”

Your heart skipped. “Wait… so you came because I asked?”

The question hung between you like a delicate note from a violin. Vanitas froze, his expression still, but you noticed the faintest twitch at the corner of his eye.

“I mean—” he began, then sighed and turned away, his scarf fluttering. “Never mind.”

You smiled, deciding to let it go. “I’m glad you did,” you said softly. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen fireworks. I think it’ll be worth it.”

He shrugged. “You’re expecting too much. Noé’s the same, always acting like everything’s some grand spectacle.”

You laughed, a light sound that made him glance at you from the corner of his eye. There was something in your gaze that caught him off guard, and he looked away again, feigning disinterest.

Silence settled between you, not awkward, but companionable, punctuated only by the distant murmur of the crowd. Midnight drew closer.

“I mean it,” you said after a pause. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

Vanitas turned his head, studying you as if trying to decipher something. “You say that like it matters.”

“It does,” you replied. “To me, at least.”

He blinked, clearly thrown. After a beat, he cleared his throat and gestured to the apple still in your hand. “Just eat it already. You’re making this awkward.”

Grinning, you twirled the skewer between your fingers. “Trying to shut me up?”

“I wouldn’t have to if you didn’t talk so much.”

You rolled your eyes but paused when you noticed the shift in his expression. His usual smirk was gone, replaced by something quieter, more sincere. He was looking at you now, not avoiding or deflecting, but truly seeing you.

You searched his face, unsure—was he annoyed? Embarrassed? Or... surprised?

Before you could find the answer, Vanitas leaned in. There was no hesitation, only intention. His lips brushed yours, soft and fleeting, carrying the faintest trace of peppermint.

In that moment, the first firework exploded above, casting streaks of light across the sky. Cheers erupted around you, but they felt distant, muted beneath the roar of your heartbeat.

When Vanitas pulled back, his expression was one of flustered frown, a pink tinge colouring his cheeks. “Bonne Année,” he muttered, almost begrudgingly.

You blinked, gripping the skewer a little tighter. “Bonne Année,” you echoed, a dazed smile spreading across your face. He stepped back, his usual cocky smirk returning as he gestured to the sky. “You’d better enjoy this. I’m not doing anything this ridiculous again.”

You laughed, warmth blooming in your chest. “We’ll see about that.”

As fireworks painted the night in bursts of colour, you knew one thing for certain:

This was going to be an interesting year to come.

[bdafic]

Not everyone has enough experience on the internet to recognize scams, especially as scammers find new ways to make you feel weird for being suspicious. There is no shame in inexperience or naivete, scams work for a reason, so here's a heads up on a recent one going around that targets fic writers specifically.

You'll receive a message or comment complimenting your fic and asking permission to draw a scene from it. Scammers of this type are rarely aggressive. They're hoping to get you into a position where you feel obligated to send them money out of guilt, so they hide under a veneer of politeness and ignorance.

Once contact is established they'll try to pull you into a private exchange where either, A.) a service or product is provided as a "gift", then subject to a bait n' switch after delivery, where they demand payment, or B.) change their tactics and act like you've already agreed to a verbal contract about a paid commission, and so feel obligated to honour it. Payment up front. Either way, the approach is designed to make you think this person made an honest mistake. They misunderstood, maybe they don't speak the language well, maybe they're new, or young, or just don't know the 'rules' yet. You take pity on them, and so pay them for the work.

It works similar to the "donate to gaza" scams that have been proliferating on Tumblr lately: appeal to empathy and shame people for questioning it. We're a pretty socially conscious, leftist, bunch of users on this webbed site and those of us involved in fandom communities tend to go out of our way to support and encourage other creators. It makes for a healthy, welcoming, community and we should keep doing that! The flip side is that it also makes a great hunting ground for these types of scams, so stay skeptical and ask questions.

The first time I got a DM like this I actually assumed it was a ChatGPT bot

however, after this they appeared to talk like a person. On the off chance they weren't being deliberately malicious, just extremely clueless, I pushed a few buttons... and it was immediately clear the intent was to trick me into paying them.

The pitch was generic but their background work could easily scan as legit if someone is just doing a cursory pass. They had a had a bio that linked to various socials. Some more convincing than others

Their ArtStation account, formatted like those "p u s s y i n b i o" Twitter bots, actually had some drawings on it too. All the images look like standard newbie stuff on stock backgrounds with a Photoshop filter applied, which plays into the "young/new artist" persona that some will adopt. All the images were uploaded at the same time: either a week ago, or six months ago. It's all tagged "noAI" but...

I ran a few through AI image detection and the results were anywhere from 60 to 98% likely AI, with one or two 15%'s thrown into the bunch.

This particular thread died after I sent that last message, which tells me that while the cold call may have been automated, the pickup probably involved a real person. Over the last week more have come in. Most are extremely obvious; way less sophisticated than the first try. One of the tricks is to use code to pull the username and a random story from the author's account. If you receive a copy of the messages somewhere the code gets stripped out they'll appear like this:

Whereas on fanfiction.net, it looks like this

This is why you'll sometimes see those random spaces around punctuation. Underneath the hood the opening line might read, "Greetings '=$AUTHORNAME' ," and they forgot to delete the space after the variable or didn't format it well and the punctuation was interfering with code execution.

These types of scams are extremely old, this is just a new way of doing them. There are cases where the whole thing is malicious and intentional from start to finish. There are cases where the people doing it are being forced to. And there are cases of people new to art and commissions who legitimately believe this is the best way to approach someone before they've built up enough of a reputation to rely on word of mouth. I have been on the internet since the early to mid 90s and I have seen all three varieties many, many, many times, in many, many, ways.

If you're not sure, ask a few leading questions -- but never give personal information or move to a second contact until you are 100% positive of who you're talking to. If you've got doubts, you don't need to be a dick about it, just block and move on.

[madschiavelique]

Cursed Vampire!Miguel O'Hara

Okay so i came back from this tiny pause and idk why but a sudden hit of vampire diaries content has been multiplying all over my medias after i returned fully and ooo boi

vampire miguel

but not any vampire miguel

cursed vampire!miguel

on the 30th of august i did a spell for the blue moon in pisces and i was guided by my witchy friend who reminded me about the 4 elements and their usage in witchcraft : if you want something fast you use fire (candles), something that is a bit less faster and that purifies you use air (incent for instance), something that takes a little longer and that you use to heal you use water (rain, rivers, moon water etc) and if you want to make something to last in time, you use earth (burying something in the earth for instance)

and she punctuated this recall by “which is why curses are most of the time buried in the earth, because it lasts in time”

and I was like

yea cursed vampire miguel

but with a twist

content warnings : mentions of blood, killings, miguel trying to kill himself but failing, general vampire stuff and some personal lore i elaborated word count : 4,6k (not proofread)

Let’s imagine the setting. A little village lost in the middle of nowhere, Miguel being perhaps mayor, or even just chief of the village if we go back enough in time to a point where electricity was still just a thing you could see when lightning was striking in the sky but had no place in your home.

He owns the biggest house, a manor with multiple rooms and multiple people living in it ranging from normal villagers to servants. Is he a member of the aristocracy ? Not so much, let’s say that he was a hard worker in the fields or something that involved him getting them big muscles (lumberjack perhaps, who knows) and that he revolted against a previous higher up that owned the place.

Xina, his lover at the time, was a witch, hiding the village. She had helped Miguel with her magic without him knowing when he made the rebellion happen. See, she was ambitious, and if Miguel could help her reach her goals, then she’d use him to her own profit. But one more thing, she was deeply in love with him.

And he did love her, until one thing happened. Dana, Dana D’Angelo happened.

Xina believed in many things, in spirits, in demons, in deities, but if there was one thing she didn’t believe in was second chances.

And so, she cursed him, for you don’t play with a woman’s heart, even less with a witch's one.

It had been a few days since the symptoms of this curse still unknown to his consciousness had started spreading within his body.

First, the same night she was executing the ritual, he couldn’t sleep well. He felt heavy, and yet his head felt airy like it was full of cotton. He felt feverish, his shaking body boiling one last time before his life would turn to eternal ice. He had weird dreams that night, altering between horrors and his eyes opening to his window, looking at the full moon.

The next day felt odd, he had this sort of dryness that never left his mouth, and no matter how much he passed his tongue on the inside of it or drunk anything, it stayed parched. The difficulty and surprise settled in when he tried to eat his breakfast but his silverware burned him. He ended up taking something that did not necessitate him to cut, an apple, a fruit, something to satiate the sharp hunger that burned in his body.

He didn’t like seeing people much in the morning, but considering how many lived in this place, he’d have to face them some time or later. And the light, the light from outside felt… too bright for his eyes. The chandeliers that were still getting lit up in the corridors didn’t burn his eyes though, so why ?

That night, he couldn’t sleep. The next day, going outside felt like an army of ants were crawling under his skin as he got under the sun, and these tingles lasted all day, until at the end of it the tingles had turned into a slight burning. He didn’t understand, it was winter, and here he was catching sunburns.

And the next day, another symptom added itself to the list. Why did the people surrounding him smelled so good ? Why did he feel like being near anyone gave him the sensation that he had not eaten anything for days and that they were smelling exactly like the one thing he craved for and needed ?

And then he couldn’t see himself any more in the mirrors, and cutlery felt like he was touching hell, and being outside was like being in hell. And when he passed someone that felt so good, why were his nails elongated into claws ? He definitely ruined some curtains at some point because he was trying to retract them.

And… wait, Xina hadn’t been much around lately. Why couldn’t he get a grasp of her ? Why did he never cross her way ? Had she discovered about his affair ?

And then, one night, when the multiple symptoms had added and fixed themselves entirely in Miguel’s body, his entire property started acting weird around him.

He could hear their whispers, their hearts beating in their chests and pumping blood in their entire body, he could smell their singular perfumes from metres away : everything felt as heightened as dull.

More and more people started leaving their place from the manor. They had heard rumours, rumours saying that he was a malfeasant being, that he had organised the rebellion for power and that he intended to turn everyone here slaves to his demonic energy.

Soon enough, only Miguel remained in the manor. He was more and more absent, living as a recluse in his own part of his quarters.

And one night, as someone was banging heavily on his doors, he came downstairs. As he opened them, he saw that the villagers that had been living under the same roof with him for several months were armed, ready to stab or spike him.

Of course, Xina was at the center of the group. Followed what looked like a fight, but Miguel was almost twice bigger than most of them, and ten times stronger, so he massacred most of the rebels against him until the remaining ones decided to leave the village.

Xina came to him, and told him :

"You have grievously offended me by your cheating, and this crime against me is an affront I could not let pass. Hence, I have cursed you."

Miguel tried to attack her, but as his claws tried to dig into her, he was violently pushed away and his back came into contact with a wall, he fell to the ground, remaining seated against it. Xina walked towards him.

"You can't do anything to me," she said, a pale glow glimmering around her as the sort of crystal crisalide that surrounded her faded at the lack of impact against it.

"What have you done to me?" he breathed.

"I told you, I cursed you," she knelt. "I made you a vampyr."

he looks at her, his eyes finally turning red. She smiled. He had heard of these creatures of legend, these stories made to frighten children and the superstitious, but he had never thought that he would become one in his turn.

"You should be happy, I've given you the gift of immortality. I told myself that eternity would be enough time for you to reflect on your actions," she said, tilting her head to one side. "The few friends you have left will die, those around me will die too, and much later it will be my turn to die. But you, you will remain. Children age, lovers perish. Kingdoms are born and burn up, and you, you will go on."

He didn't want eternity. Why want it when you know the world you live in, but did he really have a choice?

"But you see, even in my revenge I will remain merciful. I offer you two solutions." she said, raising her hand next to her head to count the options. "The first, you find my curse, and destroy it, which will return you to mortal rank." Hope sprang up in Miguel's now cold mind. "Secondly, you find someone who will love you despite what you are and be prepared to forgive all your faults and misdeeds. However, they won't bring mortality back to you, you'll simply be able to change them into a being just like you, and to live with that person for eternity." She rose to her feet, looking down on him before saying her last words:

"Farewell, Miguel O'Hara. The secret of my curse will be taken to my grave. You were my first and last love. You took hold of my heart and crushed it. If you fail to find my curse, choose well." Choose well.

She left, leaving him alone. Remorse, Regret, Guilt and Anger mingled within him in his grey heart. He was alone.

The first decades and the first century were most complex. First of all, he searched the entire region, every piece of land and stone, for Xina's curse. His first instinct was to go to the room she occupied in the manor house, but she had taken everything she owned with her. He went to his family home, searching every room with great interest. But there was nothing.

He searched the library of his manor for information on witches and their rituals, and the only information he could find was that most curses were buried in the ground.

Days, weeks, months of digging everywhere, and nothing. Strictly nothing. The despair of loneliness overtook him earlier than he thought, and soon enough, he tried to put an end to it.

He tried many times. To make matters worse, all the silver objects he used for everything had been taken away by the villagers. The coup had been prepared, Xina had planned everything so that he would have to live with himself.

Hanging himself was useless, as he could no longer breathe, and the cutlery, which was not made of silver, bent against his skin when he tried to stab himself. All night he tried, and when the time finally came for the sun to rise, he placed himself in full sunlight, telling himself that the tingling would be enough to finish him off.

But nothing, the sun stung his pale skin slightly, but didn't go any further. The sensation was slightly unpleasant, but he wasn't suffering terribly. Trying to stay all day in the sun to try and burn himself was useless, for when night came, his skin healed by itself.

Rage hung in his stomach as much as hunger, but he smelt something so enticing that for a moment he wondered if normal blood was flowing through his veins again and he was alive. A simple passer-by had come too close to the village, and Miguel had let his gnawing desire for something to eat get the better of him, draining all the energomer's blood in just a few seconds.

It didn't take him long to become addicted to the feeling of life that filled him everytime he drank blood. He couldn't live like a human again right? So he would take whatever human life he could find on his path.

He knew of a small village nearby where he could feast. It took him a long time to learn to control his appetite, but it took less to learn that his curse had given him an intoxicating beauty that attracted all those he desired. Another of Xina's cruel tricks, he told himself, people will simply be blinded by my aura, thinking they love me when it's really just cursed desire.

He began methodically, taking the inhabitants back to his manor one by one. The first few times he drank them raw, but soon he got used to not drinking all their blood and making them his reserves. They were intoxicated, he could do whatever he wanted with them, but above all: their blind desire made them immensely loyal. None of them ran away, none of them refused to have their blood drunk, and even if Miguel told them to leave, they were far too pained by the thought and preferred to stay.

When the village was hit by an epidemic of a disease, Miguel went there to dump the few corpses that had not survived his bites, so that his business could pass incognito.

He knew of a town not far away and how difficult it was to house all its inhabitants. He went there, explaining to the mayor that he had recently bought a piece of land not far away with old abandoned houses that could help. "What a generous man," said the mayor, and soon enough much of the overcrowded town found itself reviving the village.

Miguel was an experimentalist in his approach to humans. It was so strange to have to deal with them in this way, not as people like himself, but as prey and how he would go about capturing them.

In particular, he was experimenting with his physical abilities. Some twenty years later, when the village was well established, he was tempted to go to the village pub. He could drink as much as he liked and didn't get drunk, he could carry heavy loads without any problem, and he gave himself over to the desires of the flesh with an excpetional energy that pleased all his partners - although they all complained about his icy body.

A century later, all was well, he had once again continued his trick of taking various villagers to his home and making them his delicacies, but he was doing it more sparingly. Humans became less foolish with time, and soon disappearances became too much of a topic in the village. Miguel was finally suspected, after a series of attempts to pin the blame on other suspects.

The slaughter was terrible, and the bottles of wine he filled with blood in the huge cellar of his manor house multiplied until he no longer had to hunt for a long time.

The company of men had become too boring for him. He had become bitter towards them, finding them profoundly idiotic. So he locked himself away in his books, and only left his manor occasionally to go and get more.

But Miguel was no longer interested in finding a way to end it all, he now wanted to get on with feeding his intellect and perhaps, who knows, one day help humans to make this world a better place and become less stupid.

Fifty years later you arrived. You had fled from a village further afield and found this one, which seemed untouched and empty, just what you needed to live peacefully.

You entered the manor house, and unlike all the other dwellings in the area, this one didn't seem so dilapidated and abandoned. You were convinced that someone was living there as soon as you saw one of the chandeliers lit. You arrived in the library, which was by far the least dusty part of the house, and for good reason - Miguel hardly ever went out of it. You found him sitting in his armchair with a book in his hand.

Miguel was 232 at the time, and had long since forgotten the second chance that Xina had offered him. And now that he was a more mature vampyr who didn't attack everything that moved, he managed to strike up a conversation with you.

He was intrigued that a human had arrived here, it's been a long time since he'd seen one. At first he was bothered that you were disturbing his calm and solitude, and he hesitated to kill you on the spot, just like that, without you having time to wonder what was happening.

But when you explained that you'd run away from your village, he was intrigued. And his interest was further piqued when he learned that the reason you had fled was that you were suspected of practising witchcraft, and therefore should be burnt. You didn't really seem like much of a threat, but then again, Xina didn't seem much of a threat either...

He also noticed that his charms weren't working on you, as you were obviously protected. His trained nose detected garlic in your necklace and bracelet, mixed with other herbs that wouldn't do him any good if he were to come to close to them.

Garlic cleanses, it 'purifies', it's a very good antibiotic like lemon (which repels spiders). Vampyrism would have been considered a blood disease, which in Miguel's eyes was not far from the truth.

Eating garlic purified the bacteria present in the blood and, according to some people, would either turn a vampyr back into a normal person or cause their death. The plague came from miasmas, and strong smells like garlic and spices kept them away, which was a reason in the collective mind for vampyrs to use them as a repelling weapon. These little things wouldn't do him much harm, but their influence was enough for you to not feel his hypnoze.

He agreed to let you stay with him, and went so far as to hunt animals for you and bring you vegetables from his garden so that you could eat properly. Why did he keep you with him when he could no longer stand humans and you could be a danger to him? It's quite simple.

Vampyrs aren't sentimental, the only state that comes close to love or attraction for them is obsession, and it didn't take Miguel long to develop one for you. Second, after so many years of loneliness, sharing some parts of his days with someone felt good. And then there was the fact that you were a witch, and that with a bit of luck you'd be able to help him put an end to his curse.

You started off naively enough, but you were curious about vampyrs and kept asking him questions on the subject:

"Why can't you see yourselves in the mirror?"

He sighs, taking you to a room in the manor where stood an old mirror. He took your arm and placed you with him in the reflection. You could only see your own reflection, and just as you were about to marvel in your shudder, Miguel explains:

"That mirror you see there is made of steel, a material that could be lethal to me, and is a formidable weapon against my kind. I'd advise you not to try and break it to attack me, that would be a serious mistake. Most of the mirrors there were in my time were made of steel, and since then they've started to make..." he led you further into a corridor where there was another mirror, "made of aluminium."

He placed you in front of it again, and this time you could see your reflection in the mirror. He was so tall compared to you, and so powerful... a shiver ran down your spine as your eyes met.

"With fae, they can't see themselves in lead, it's their Achilles heel." he said before letting you go and moving on.

You didn't feel any particular hatred towards vampyrs, more a certain curiosity, and obviously a fright. These creatures had been alive for so long, had seen empires fall, kingdoms be born, wars break out, and they had lived through so much...

Miguel had almost forgotten the need for humans to sleep. Fortunately, there was still one bed for you to occupy: Miguel's.

It was a bit dusty, and you even joked to Miguel that you were surprised it wasn't a coffin. He sighed as he got your bed ready, thinking that if you hoped to make friends in such a mediocre way he'd already regret his decision to keep you.

But that didn't stop him watching over you while you slept.

You seemed so peaceful like that, abandoned to the world of dreams, of your insignificant little life. Your frailty fascinated him. And to think that he himself had once been like that...

Your days were quiet, there weren't many exciting activities. You were used to picking and working all day in your village, but here you had nothing to do.

So you chatted to Miguel, listening to him tell you a bit about his whole life. In 232 years of existence one must have a few amusing anecdotes to tell, don't you think? You spent almost all of your time together, and it wasn't long before you started to have feelings for him.

You were afraid, afraid of what he would think, that he would tell you that "it was to be expected, humans are so easily corrupted. You don't love me, you're simply attracted by the beauty that was given to me to attract you."

But you knew it wasn't that evil charm that had got you, it was him all over. Perhaps you should avoid him? Maybe you should leave...

Miguel had felt the change in you, heard how your heart beat a little faster and stronger when you spoke to him, noticed the change in your attitude, especially when he caught you deep in thought. You were hiding something from him, and he was curious to know what.

One evening, when you'd pretended to go to bed, you came down the stairs, grabbed a few provisions that you'd packed in your basket in the kitchen, and silently walked through the big door. It wrung your heart to leave, but a human and a vampyr are an impossible love story. It was only a few minutes later, as your smell and the presence of your warmth began to disappear, that Miguel looked up from his book and your absence hit him right in the throat.

You trudged along on the muddy ground, the snow falling on your body and chilling you despite your coat. A sound of wind as swift and as a sharp blade on a stone brushed against your ear when Miguel was standing in front of you. You stopped walking, watching the prince of the night who was not afraid of the cold let himself be caressed by the snowflakes. None of them melted on his skin.

"What are you doing?" he asked, even though the question sounded almost like a threat.

"I realised that my humanity would be my undoing soon enough in your presence, and so I chose to leave."

"Why," he questioned as he moved closer to you until you had to tilt your head back in the hope of continuing to look him in the eye.

Your heart raced, "My personal affections towards you have shifted."

"Shifted?" he enquired as his hand gently came to clear the melted flakes from your cheeks, or was it your tears? "How have they shifted?"

"They became... omnipresent."

A slight smile stretched his lips as his fingers passed under your chin

"Tell me about them." an order, a necessity.

"They... they make me feel different." you say as your voice shrivels.

"How different," he says as he leans in and brings his face close to yours.

"Warm, and fuzzy," you whispered, "and make my every thoughts come back to... you."

Your breath catches on his lips, his red eyes never leaving yours.

"Am I the object of your love, mi vida?" His breath was cold, and exuded death.

"Yes, you are," you confirm as your voice cracks.

He came to kiss you, the coolness of his lips even colder than the night, and you shivered as the contrast with your skin and the sensation of passion in his kiss sent tingles to the back of your skull.

In as many years of existence, you're the only one who's managed to make him feel human again, and that's enough for him.

"Let's bring you back inside, alright?" he said as he parted from your lips to lift you up in one fell swoop into his princess arms.

And so your relationship gradually metamorphosed, each day sweeter and more fused than the last, until finally the time came for Miguel to think about making you his eternal bride.

What a vile gift she had given him, to allow him to turn you into such a loathsome, despicable, odious being. This choice was going to deprive you of so many things. From the sunlight going from caress to crush, your appetite capsizing, your inability to sleep again. And he didn't want to deprive you of your life.

He didn't want to turn you into such a monstrosity, but you reassured him, explaining that there was nothing in the world that would make you shy away from being with him. Besides, was a life without him by your side really worth living when you were growing old and he remained eternally young and beautiful?

So, with determination, he finally sank his fangs into your skin and set about turning you into a vampire. He simply let the venom infect your veins without ever, ever drinking your blood.

And your change took place just as his had, over the course of several days. He mopped up your fever, held you close to him when your dreams were strange, got you used to going out in the sun without going too far, and then introduced you to drinking blood. He had forgotten how hungry and powerful a new vampire could be, and seeing you almost empty his entire wine cellar made him shudder: not with regret or disgust, but with euphoria.

Never again would he be alone.

The years went by, and your couple survived every era. The good thing about living forever is that you can always find ways to entertain yourself, and it stays with you over time. You still remember so well, for example, that moment when you swam in that lake moving a poor piece of wood and people nicknamed the legendary creature you had inadvertently created 'the Lochness monster'.

It wasn't until years later, out of curiosity, that Miguel wondered what had become of Xina. And after several months of intensive research around the world, you find her grave.

He had read some of the records of what she had achieved. She had climbed far enough up the social ladder until her decisions were taken seriously by certain governors. But soon enough, when she passed the age of 110 while still looking pretty young for her age, she was accused of witchcraft, and instead of dying at the stake, she stabbed herself in the heart, her relatives burying her here.

The two of you stood by her grave and still insisted on bringing her flowers. But it was as he lowered himself to the ground that Miguel remembered what she'd said: "The secret of my curse will be taken to my grave."

Could it be...

So you both set about digging it all up, digging until you finally found her coffin. You were, after all, creatures of blasphemy, but opening her grave made you hesitate at first. Who knows what spell she might have put on her coffin to ensure that anyone who opened it would be cursed?

But when he opened it and discovered her skeleton, he found nothing.

"You were my first and last love. You grabbed my heart..."

"And you crushed it," he whispered.

He plunged his hand between her empty ribs, until he touched something hard, something that didn't have the texture of bone. He reached for the object, a wooden box sealed with black wax.

"Is it... what I think it is ?" you asked.

He nodded, silent. He wouldn't open it, he'd learned from some of his lessons. With his powerful hand, he crushed the box between his fingers with ease, a cascade of dust mixed with sand, herbs and other objects from the ritual surging through his fingers.

And his body burned with a delicious warmth. The familiarity of the humanity in him completed itself, while for you, too, vitality returned to your veins.

The curse was lifted, and now you could act normally. What a surprise it was when your two bodies touched and the warmth they emanated made you smile. And what a joy it was to be able to eat normally and not get a rash on your skin if you spent too many hours in the sun.

Thus your life ended in peace and love, both of you continuing your lives together peacefully.