#even with having everyone talking about how good it actually is

[reignpage]

In which the men are obsessed with your ass and the different ways they express it

Satoru smashes his face in between your cheeks at random times of the day. Around the corridor, when no one’s looking, he’ll shove you against the wall, kneel, and mumble, 'I'm home.' When questioned, he explains he likes everything about it – how warm you are there, how soft, and most importantly, how much you hate it. If he takes a long and loud inhale, it’s usually just to piss you off. Over time, however, it’s grown to be one of the very few things that calms him down. His stupid family can be overbearing, but if you’re there and arching your ass out for him, then all is well. 

Suguru gropes your ass in front of other people, always just out of sight, always with a pleasant smile and a nod, indicating he’s giving them his full attention. But little do they know, his fingers are digging deep into your flesh, even through jeans, staking his claim. He likes to remind you he’s always thinking about you, he likes the secrecy, the silent ‘fuck you’ to the ass-kissers he runs into, no pun intended. Maybe, just maybe, he also likes the way you get all breathy, all nervous, and skittish, half wanting to tell him off and half leaning into his touch. 

Choso bites. Something about your ass, with the recoil, the ripples, the tiger stripe-like marks, makes his mouth water. He can’t help but eye them from behind or when you’re innocently walking up the stairs. Even at night, half-asleep, he often wakes up with drool pooling on your bare flesh, teeth marks visible on your poor skin. Of course, he apologises, but he never stops. Definitely don’t ask him about the locked album on his phone. It totally doesn’t contain hundreds and hundreds of upskirt pictures. 

Toji slaps and smacks with no care in the world. He does it in the middle of the street, in front of his friends, as a hello, as a goodbye, as a ‘calm down,’ and even as an apology. There’s no shame or decorum in his actions. Especially not when other bastards let their eyes wander too long. He’ll slap your ass whilst staring them down. Might give it a peck too, if it was particularly hard. And he won’t ever admit this, but he also likes to lay a good one on you, just so he has a reason to rub apologetic circles on the warm skin. 

Kento pats your ass as a calming gesture. It helps you sleep. He might tap your ass to let you know he’s behind and needs to get by, or to show you he’s listening to your rants. Though it started as a means to soothe you, eventually, it grows to be a habit, a tic, a reflex. Often, he blinks and realises his hand had a mind of its own and had wandered over to a cheek without his knowing. You never seem to mind, thankfully. Actually, you seem to like it, especially when it means you have a reason to do it back to him, but harder and in more embarrassing situations.

Sukuna punishes with spanks that he makes you count. You think you can just run around his estate, doing as you please? Although he’s given you more liberties and privileges than anyone else has ever had, you should still know your place. No one talks back to him. No one mocks him. No one defies him. They’re lessons you learn, and you learn well, when he has you bent over his lap, ass bare and marked up for everyone to see. It helps that it teaches his repulsive cockroach-like servants that, if he can make you squeal and cry and not bat an eye, he won’t hesitate to smite them where they stand.

[girlgenius1111]

not yourself

barcelona x teen reader your first international break does not go how you want it to. you're not yourself when you return, and your teammates make it their business to figure out what happened, and why you're so quiet and withdrawn.

—

You’d never been very good at making friends. You were quiet, and people often took that to mean you were aloof. The only reason you’d made friends at Barça was because you’d been so young when you started there. Young enough that almost everyone made an effort to try to get to know you. And while it took time, they must have decided you were worth knowing. 

Your club teammates would tell anyone who asked that you were the team’s baby. Sweet and kind. Even loud and outgoing around people you were comfortable with. Incredible on the pitch. Your teammates loved you like a younger sister, and had gained your trust. You absolutely couldn’t be described as shy around them anymore. 

So, your club teammates knew you well enough to know that if you were being quiet, it wasn’t because you thought you were better than everyone around you or because you weren’t interested in being social. You just had such anxiety when it came to social situations, especially new ones. 

No situation terrified you more than your first international call up. The weeks leading up to it, everyone kept telling you it would be okay. Whenever you fell quiet and looked like you were thinking too hard, there was always someone there to rest a hand on your shoulder or pull you into a hug and promise that everything would be okay. 

You just had to be yourself, Alexia said, and everyone would like you. 

Kika promised you had nothing to worry about, Cata said she was just a phone call away if she had to fight someone for you. None of them seemed very worried, somehow assured and convinced that you’d have no trouble making friends. 

For the first time in your career, you left when they did for the international break. You were your usual self, bubbly and smiley and excited enough that you could barely sit still. Or maybe that was just the nerves. 

You were yourself when you left, and none of them stopped to consider that you might not be when you got back.

—

Loneliness. It wasn’t a brand new feeling, but it wasn’t one you’d felt in a long time. 

Not since you were a kid, and watched the other kids play together at recess. Easily talking and laughing and having fun. Not since you were a kid and watched your parents joke and laugh with your much older siblings, only pausing to remind you to finish your homework. You’d been the outsider, then. At school and at home. 

The weird girl that tried to play football with the boys at recess, and was promptly shunned by everyone. The baby of the family that no one seemed to have any time for. Your parents had you, and soon after decided they were tired of being real parents. They were tired of spending their time with kids, only they’d realized that too late. You’d spent years eating dinner alone at the kitchen table, wondering if your parents would remember to come check on you when they got home from whatever event they’d gone to. 

So, loneliness was familiar. Perhaps you’d just forgotten how much it ached. 

Yet you were reminded, that first international break. Where once again you were the outsider, the odd one out. You weren’t very sure why. It started with the girl you were assigned to room with acting like you were the strangest, most unpleasant person she’d ever spoken to. Soon, it was everyone else doing the same. 

It was cruel little laughs when you messed up in training, and rolled eyes when you went down with an ankle injury during the match. It was assuredly not whispered overheard conversations. 

“She’s so arrogant, I don’t know how anyone puts up with her.” 

“They probably have to be nice to her at Barça, but it’s all pity, really. No one would actually want to spend time with her.” 

“I wonder if it’s in her contract, that everyone has to pretend to like her.” 

It was trying to keep your sobs silent at night as you buried your face in your pillow. It was ignoring every text you got from your club teammates asking how it was going because you were terrified that they didn’t really like you. It didn’t take much for you to be convinced you were some annoying burden on your teammates. The foundation had been laid throughout your life, and it took just a few perfectly worded comments from some of the meanest girls you’d ever encountered to shatter what little self confidence you’d managed to develop. 

It was the worst two weeks of your life. And now, somehow, you were supposed to go back to Barcelona and act normal, like you didn’t have a million doubts in your head, much more amplified than they ever had been before. 

Now, it wasn’t a small worry in the back of your mind that you were bothering Jana when you asked her to braid your hair before a match, or when Alexia drove you home from training that one evening. It had grown to a shout, drowning out any logical, reasonable competition. 

You were sure. Convinced. You were nothing but a burden. An annoying, arrogant, horrible person who no one actually wanted to be around, let alone your club teammates who had the world at their feet. 

Your lack of response to your teammates' texts was the first of many red flags. Many of them had texted you. First, your closest friends. Vicky, Sydney, Jana, Salma. But when word inevitably got around the Spain camp that you weren’t replying to your friends, more texts arrived. From Irene and Alexia, Patri, Cata, and Claudia. Almost everyone asked you some variation of how is it going, or alternatively, are you doing okay? 

Yet you were too in your head to believe they really wanted to know. This was only reinforced when the texts stopped. Though you didn’t know it, Alexia and Irene had decided you needed space for whatever reason, and told everyone to leave you alone. They didn’t want to suffocate you trying to figure out what was going on, though it was clearly something. 

So, the texts stopped, and any remaining shred of hope you carried that your national teammates were wrong, that your club teammates did care about you, disappeared too. 

—

You were pretty sure you’d never been more anxious than you were the morning you were supposed to return to Barça’s training. Every negative comment, every condescending look, every second you'd spent feeling alone and awful, had built up inside your head.

Every single thing you did prompted a flood of self deprecating thoughts. It didn't feel like you could do anything right. All you wanted was to shrink yourself down, become as small and unnoticeable as possible. If you could get through the day without anyone really looking at you, maybe you could do this.

Of course, your teammates, already worried about you after your unexplained silence, weren't going to let you be invisible.

It started with an arm slung around your shoulders the second you stepped into the locker room. Ona, a bright smile on her face.

"La pequeña is back!" She sang, pinching your cheek.

Her words didn't make you feel loved and cared for. Instead, you heart clenched, thinking she was being patronizing.

You had officially fallen off the deep end, and if you'd been in any less of a state of anxiety and self consciousness, you would have realized how wrong and unfair you were being.

You knew Ona. Ona was a good person. Ona would never hurt a fly, let alone be cruel to one of her teammates. These were all facts. Somehow, though, your sense of self had been so warped, so twisted, that you believed Ona could be a good person who wouldn't hurt a fly, yet she could also still be teasing you.

There was something to be said about how two weeks with a bunch of mean girls had completely destroyed your self confidence. Perhaps it hadn't been very strong to begin with, perhaps this deep hatred you felt towards yourself had always been inside you, just buried deep. Now, though, it had free reign. Logic could no longer control it, and it was left to run rampant through your body and mind.

You were bad. Arrogant, awful, impossible to like or care for. These feelings were the foundation of every thought you had. You were a burdensome disaster, and your teammates didn't need to be bothered with you. It wasn't worth it; you weren't worth their time.

You didn't think you were worth much at all, really.

So, you shrugged out from under Ona's arm, fixing your eyes on your cubby and hurrying over to it. No eye contact, no conversation with anyone else.

Ona was left behind you, confused. Brow furrowed, she looked at you, and then looked around the locker room. It seemed she hadn't been the only one to notice your odd behavior. Jana made eye contact with her, nodding her head slightly.

You were hyper aware of everyone around you, able to see Jana leaning closer from her spot in the cubby next to you out of the corner of your eye.

"Hey." She said quietly.

You managed some mumbled greeting in response, hands trembling where you tried to unfold your training top.

"Are you okay?" Jana inquired.

Immediately, you nodded your head. And immediately, Jana regretted her question. Of course you were going to say yes, even if it was obvious you weren't okay. She should have asked what was wrong, instead.

Someone cleared their throat behind Jana, and you let out a sigh of relief when she stepped away from you.

More concern being shown to you, yet you perceived it so differently. Jana was taking pity on you, probably. You needed to pull it together, take some deep breaths and put on a show, because you had no choice but to be fine today. No choice.

As you composed yourself, Jana and Irene exchanged quiet words.

"Something isn't right." Jana whispered, glancing back at you. Now, you were methodically trying your shoes, even a mere hint of emotion wiped from your face.

Irene was watching you, too, more concerned than she wanted to admit. Your silence while you'd been away had been odd; your behavior now, though, was downright worrying.

Yet taking one look at you told Irene that you were completely shut down. An impenetrable wall had put up, and Irene knew better than to force her way through. This wasn't the time or the place to get you to talk.

"Just leave her be for today. Whatever it is, she'll come to us when she's ready."

And maybe you would have, if it had been anything else. But when you were convinced you were a burden, the last thing you wanted to do was ask the people you felt like you were inconveniencing to reassure you that you weren't an inconvenience.

Those of your teammates that had an understanding of when to push and when not to push seemed to leave you alone. There were little things, pats on the shoulder and water bottles handed to you first before anyone else, that were supposed to send you the message that you were cared for. Yet all you could think was that your teammates saw you as an obligation.

However, some of your other teammates greatly lacked the ability to read the situation. When they saw someone being quiet and acting strangely, it wasn't in their nature to let it go. They pushed.

Teasing comments about being quiet or being too cool for the team followed you around all day. The weren't intentionally cruel, yet you couldn't seem to separate friendly teasing from what you'd endured with your national team.

Everything came to a head in the locker room after training. It was loud, everyone chattering excitedly about their breaks and getting to see their families. So loud that no one really noticed Cata and Vicky appearing on either side of you, pestering you to tell them why you were suddenly way too cool to talk to them.

“Out with it, chica!” Cata said teasingly. Maybe she was trying to lighten the mood, but you felt like she was laughing at you. “You’ve been acting like an alien all day.” 

“Were you abducted? Are you really an alien shape shifter?” Vicky laughed. 

The teasing felt cruel, though you should have known it wasn’t. The echoes of the girls from your national team still rattled around in your head, until you couldn’t tell the difference between their bullying and your teammates’ teasing. 

You shut your locker tightly, blinking hard for a second before turning around. 

“Please just leave me alone.” You said softly, voice cracking in the middle. 

Cata and Vicky froze, surprise flashing across their faces. 

“Chica, we were just–”

“I know, I know, I’ve been weird. Just make your jokes when I’m gone next time.” 

It was the closest you’d probably ever get to standing up for yourself, so maybe you were a bit proud as you headed out of the locker room. Mostly, though, you just felt pathetic. For ever thinking your teammates had cared about you when they had no reason to. For ever thinking you were fun to be around or fun to talk to. 

You’d been trying to be quiet and fade into the background. Not draw attention to yourself. It only confirmed in your head that your teammates saw you as a pitiful charity project they didn’t actually want to be around when they seemed to zero in on this change in your behavior. 

You couldn’t picture it coming from a place of worry or care. The girls your age hated you, and there was no reason why much more successful women wouldn’t feel the same way. 

Hastily, you made your way out of the locker room, ignoring every sideways glance from your teammates. You even ignored Alexia calling your name, not thinking yourself capable of holding it together for much longer. You needed to get home, where you could be pathetic by yourself and not bother anyone with it.

Yet behind you, every single one of your teammates, every single one of your friends, were left bewildered. Something wasn't right. And they were not the type of people to let something like this go.

—

It was Sydney that got to you. She’d clearly had a bad training session, a bad day. It surprised you when your phone lit up with a text from her, asking if she could come over. You said yes immediately, willing to help even while you were convinced you were the perpetual butt of some joke. 

Sydney been near tears when she knocked on your front door, and you didn't hesitate to pull her over to your sofa, wrap a soft cream blanket around her shoulders, and move the box of tissues on the coffee table ever so slightly closer to her.

"What's going on?" You asked, trying to keep your voice even and calm.

Sydney sniffled, burying her face in her hands.

"Everything," she said, voice muffled. "I just… I don't think I'm good enough to be here. Everyday at training, all I can do is doubt myself and rethink my decisions and then I play horribly. It's unbearable. I want to go home, I miss my parents and my sister and cold weather and—"

"Woah, slow down." You urged. "Take a breathe, you're spiraling."

Sydney inhaled shakily, and you reached out, resting a supportive hand on her forearm.

"It's just… really hard, being so far away from home and playing for the best team in the world. I should feel happy and lucky, and I do, but I'm so scared all the time that I'm not good enough."

You knew exactly how she was feeling. It was probably a rough time that every young player at Barcelona felt, a point everyone reached. You weren't even sure that you didn't still feel that way.

In that moment, you were glad you'd felt this way before, if for no other reason than being able to help Sydney more.

"Syd, you wouldn't be here if you weren't good enough. Having a crisis of confidence like this just shows you care, and you have the passion you need to play for this team."

Sydney looked up at you and sniffled, cautiously hopeful. "You think so?"

"Absolutely. What you're feeling is so normal, Syd, I promise. It's an adjustment and you just have to be patient with yourself. It's going to get better, I promise."

This time, Sydney nodded, wiping at her eyes. "Yeah, you're probably right."

You fidgeted with your fingers in your lap, wracking your brain for what else to say, what would have made you feel better when you'd felt like this. Sydney looked comforted, sure, but you knew that your advice was probably not very good, and she deserved more than you were able to give her.

“Do you want me to call one of the older girls, Syd? They can probably help better than me.” You suggested, biting down on your lower lip in worry. 

Sydney shook her head. “No, you’re helping. You always give good advice, and you always know what to say to calm me down. That’s why I’m here. I think I just needed to cry.” 

Her words shocked you, and it was obvious that she could tell.

"I actually didn't just come over here to cry on your couch." Sydney said, no longer looking quite as sad, concern flooding her features. "I wanted to check on you. Something seemed really off today."

You shifted uncomfortably, whole body suddenly tense. "No, I'm—"

"Do not tell me that you are fine. You seem… you seem really not okay. Everyone's noticed, and Irene has insisted we give you space, that you'll talk to someone about whatever is wrong when you're ready, but that doesn't feel right to me. You shouldn't let someone who is clearly hurting isolate themselves."

Sydney spoke with the wisdom of a much older woman. Her hazel eyes, too, seemed to study you in a way that pierced your soul. So much so that you suddenly didn't know how you were going to push this away, how you were going to convince her you were okay.

There was something else, too. The thing about Irene and space and you reaching out when you were ready. It tugged at your chest, maybe some very tiny remaining part of you that remembered how much you trusted your teammates.

Two weeks that felt like an eternity were enough to do a lot of damage on your psyche, that much was obvious. Those weeks, paired with your long standing tendency to fall into a pit of self hatred, were enough to have you questioning everything, your friendships most of all. You'd shrunk yourself down, trying to take up as little space as possible, as you always had when you were younger. When it was clear you were annoying your parents or your siblings, you shut down.

You were shutting down now, but there was some part of you, maybe some healed part of you, that couldn't stop thinking of tight hugs and reassuring words and movie nights and homemade dinners and rides home from training. None of that matched up with the way you were feeling, until all you were sure of in that moment, was that you were confused.

You were so confused. Sydney reaching out and checking on you didn't make sense. Irene telling everyone to give you space, and that you'd talk to someone when you were ready didn't make sense. Sydney saying you were clearly hurting didn't make sense; you weren't hurting, not really. You were just being realistic. Weren't you?

Sydney seemed genuine, though. And that was the thing that really tripped you up. She would have had to go very much out of her way to come over here and check on you, even if she apparently came also because she trusted you to make her feel better about her own terrible day.

Nothing made sense anymore. It hadn't since you'd left for the break two weeks ago, and realized you were existing in a bubble where everyone tolerated your presence because they had to.

"Did something happen over the break?" She probed, carefully watching the shift of your facial expression. Immediately, she knew she'd gotten it right. Your face had fallen for just a moment, before the wall was drawn back up. But she'd seen the devastation in your eyes at the reminder. "Okay, so yes. Tell me what happened."

Sydney could come off as a very quiet, soft spoken person. but when it came to the people she cared about, which you could no longer deny included you, she was a force to be reckoned with, and you found yourself opening your mouth to answer without even trying to fight it very hard.

"It's fine. Some of the girls were… they didn't like me. But it's okay, really. I'm okay."

Sydney raised one eyebrow, like she didn't believe you for a second. "Didn't like you? Why not?"

Her face was so genuinely confused, her tone baffled. She didn't seem to understand the idea of someone not liking you. And, you suppose, that's what made you break. Tears welled in your eyes even as you shook your head, trying to ward the emotions off.

"Because I'm annoying and arrogant and aloof and untalented and undeserving of my spot here." The words tumbled out of you, like you'd been bursting at the seams trying not to let them go until that moment.

"Is that what they said?" Sydney asked, eyes wide and angry.

You nodded, jaw locked so tightly it looked painful.

"Is that what you believe?"

This time, you shrugged. Yet, somehow, it was obvious what that shrug meant.

"That's absurd. Obviously they're just jealous of you because you're so much more successful than them."

The issue with that explanation was that you couldn't hear it without picturing a mother telling her spoiled teenage daughter with an awful personality the exact same thing. She didn't have friends because people were jealous of her, not because she was terrible. You couldn't envision yourself as anything other than the terrible one in the situation.

You shrugged again, trying to act like you didn't care, like none of it even mattered anyway. "Yeah, whatever. It's not a big deal."

Sydney looked at you for a long moment, considering. Her eyes were warm, her aura exuding gentleness. Still, you braced yourself for something hurtful.

"It seems like a big deal. It would feel like a big deal for me."

You bit your lip for a moment before shaking your head. "It's not."

It was a lie, and you both knew it. There was no part of you that was willing to let this conversation go any further, though. You couldn't talk about this, or you'd break, and that wouldn't be fair to put on Sydney. So, you changed the subject.

"Anyway, it doesn't matter. Do you want to watch a movie? To get your mind off things?" You asked, trying to appear relaxed as you leaned back into the sofa and uncrossed your arms.

Sydney knew she had two options; she could push, insist you talk to her, or she could let you shut the conversation down and watch a movie with you. She was fairly certain that the first option would end with you shutting down even further, and her leaving your apartment. And the second… well, you'd still be shut down, but at least you wouldn't be alone. So, for now, Sydney let you table the conversation, well aware that she had a few people to call on her way home.

"A movie sounds good." She agreed.

Yet even after you'd both agreed on a film, even as the room feel silent as the opening chords of the score flooded out of the speakers, you could feel the concern radiating off Sydney in waves. And you worried she wouldn't let this go.

—

The thing about having no self confidence was that sometimes, you could be really fucking delusional. Over the course of the evening and night, and into the following day, you'd somehow managed to convince yourself that nothing else would come of the conversation you'd had with Sydney the night before. Because, really, why would anyone care to follow up? It was one thing to be nice to you at training, but your personal issues were no one's responsibility but your own.

Maybe it was your brain trying to take the safe option. Maybe it was some part of you reaching out for help in a very backwards way, knowing that if you convinced yourself there would be no conversation the next day, no worried glances from your teammates, you'd be much more likely to be taken off guard, and much more likely to talk. Whatever it was, you walked into the locker room the next morning, 75% sure that nothing would come of the conversation you'd had with Sydney the day before.

And right back out the locker room you walked, head down, eyes fixed on the floor, following Alexia and Patri. Briefly, you wondered how Patri was chosen for this conversation. Likely, it had been her that Sydney had gone to talk to, finding the youngest captain to be the easiest to approach. If you knew Irene and Marta, though, you knew they'd be itching to talk to you, too.

You followed Alexia and Patri to the room the team used for watching match footage, slumping into a chair as they both pulled ones over to sit in front of you. It felt oddly like some kind of job interview, both of their gazes fixed intently on you. They looked upset, almost, and you honestly weren't sure how this conversation would go.

Maybe it wasn't about the break and what had happened. Maybe you'd actually done something wrong, and gotten yourself into trouble.

Before you could spiral any further, Patri cleared her throat and spoke.

"You haven't been yourself." She said simply, eyes trained on your face, ready to catch even a flicker in your expression.

You opened your mouth, though you weren't quite sure what you were about to say. Alexia spoke before you could, though, shaking her head insistently as if you'd spoken.

"No. Do not deny it. You left for the break normal, smiley and laughing and happy. And you came back sad and quiet and shy. You haven't been this quiet and this withdrawn since you first came here, so something clearly happened while you were gone. And I want to know what happened."

Alexia could come on rather strong when it came to the well being of the people she cared about. This was something Patri knew very well, having been on the receiving end of it enough times. Yet she didn't want Alexia to seem too harsh, and make you think that you were in trouble when they were really just worried about you.

"Why do you want to know? It's not your responsibility, I was away with my national team, it has nothing to do with Barcelona."

Alexia and Patri exchanged a glance, confusion written across both their faces.

"What? It's not about responsibility, chica, it's about you. We want to know because we care about you."

Shockingly, as you'd approached this conversation with such hostility, your lip began to tremble. You bit down on it, hard, looking anywhere but at your captains.

"You do?"

Alexia and Patri were both stunned into silence for a moment. They didn't understand what they could have possibly done to make you doubt that they cared about you. The entire team had spent a long time earning your trust, and now it seemed like that trust had evaporated.

You'd been so young when you arrived at Barcelona, you still were so young. And neither Patri nor Alexia could see anything other than a young girl who needed love and support when they looked at you.

Alexia reached out, putting one hand on your shoulder. She waited until you lifted your gaze to meet hers, eyes filled with tears. She hadn't seen you look this small and this vulnerable in a very long time.

"Of course we do. Of course. We want to know what happened because we want to help."

At this, you shook your head, wiping your tears with the hem of your training top.

"No, this isn't your problem, it's mine. You don't have to fix it for me."

"Well, maybe we want to." Patri said, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"Just tell us, chica. Please." Alexia asked, her tone of the verge of begging. They were both looking at you so intently, so pleadingly and so caringly, that you weren't really sure what else to do. Your options seemed like… telling them what happened, or running from the room and never looking back.

"It was just… some of the girls at camp. They didn't like me. They said some stuff I guess I let get in my head."

It was the vaguest, barest bones summary you could have come up with, and you could tell both the older women wanted to ask for more details, insist on names and exactly what was said so they could make it right.

But there you sat in front of them, arms crossed tightly over your chest, looking like you were physically trying to hold yourself together. And they knew they shouldn't push you.

Of course, you were worried that if you told them exactly what was said, they'd agree, however unlikely that was. But more than that, the things that had been said to you and about you weren't things you ever really wanted to repeat again. Even listing them off to Sydney the night before had been painful, like you were hearing them all over again.

"Niña, you understand why the girls were mean, yes?" Patri asked gently.

You shrugged, because you didn't, not really. All you could think was that you deserved it.

"Because you are 17 years old and playing for this team. You are so talented, and so promising, and so humble about it, too. Those girls have no idea how to handle that jealousy without being cruel, without trying to put you down to make themselves feel taller."

You had to admit, when Patri explained it, it made sense. Hearing those words from her took some of the weight off your shoulders, even if it was only a little bit for now.

Alexia hummed her agreement to what Patri said, nudging your foot with hers before she spoke. "We can't fix what happened while you were gone, nena. But we can tell you that you are not alone, and nothing that was said to you was true. You are good and kind and you deserve to be here. Okay?"

Again, all you could do was shrug. But Alexia could see the tears silently sliding down your face, and she knew that what she'd said had mattered, had been what you needed to hear.

"Ven," Alexia said, standing and opening her arms for you. You buried yourself into the hug, letting the warmth from Alexia calm you.

It wasn't magically better. You didn't suddenly, miraculously feel better about yourself and who you were as a person. It just didn't feel as heavy, in that moment.

Your captains had gone out of their way to check on you, to insist you talk to them, just like Sydney had. There was no obligation for them to fulfill, they'd done it because they wanted to. Because they cared about you. And whether or not you thought that care was valid or deserved, it didn't matter. It was there either way.

Patri hugged you, too, after Alexia finally let go, murmuring something about finding those girls and teaching them a lesson, and you laughed. The both smiled at your smile like they'd won a prize, Patri slinging an arm across your shoulders as she walked you out of the film room and back to the locker room.

It was just as loud as ever in there, music blasting from the speaker. Pina had commandeered Patri's phone in her absence, and was playing something that Vicky was calling an abomination. Jana grabbed your wrist as soon as you stepped foot through the door, pulling you over to the bench in front of your cubby and practically shoving you down onto it. She started braiding your hair without you even asking, and you knew then that everyone had noticed something up with you, not just Sydney, and not just your captains.

The volume of the locker room didn't feel like a party happening around you that you weren't invited to, anymore. It felt comfortable, the way it always had before.

You didn't realize you were sitting there, smiling, until Sydney caught your eye from across the room. She looked anxious, and you realized she probably expected you to be angry with her for going to Alexia and Patri about you.

Somehow, though, you weren't upset. You weren't really anything but relieved that your entire team didn't hate you. You smiled wider at Sydney, nodding your head once. Relief flooded her face, turning into amusement as Jana lightly slapped the top of your head, telling you not to move or you'd mess her up.

It really surprised you how much better you felt. How much a few people just caring and reaching out had done. You didn't really feel like questioning it, though. You didn't feel like ruminating in the thoughts and rethinking your every action.

You just felt like being there with your team, without overthinking anything. And that was a massive step in and of itself.

—

i know i throw this around a lot but i truly hate this. could not physically spend any more time on it thought without losing my mind, so i hope it's not too bad. don't tell me if it is thx <3

[wosospacegirl]

Mallorca - part 2

Summary: Alexia ruins your couple's vacation by inviting the girls to tag along with you. You decide to make her pay for it. - This time with sex

Word count: 6.3k

Warnings: (+18) dom/sub dynamics, power play, oral (r giving and receiving), fingering and spanking (r giving), strap (r receiving), scisorring.

A/n: I think you'll have a better experience if you read part 1 first

Alexia was very well behaved during dinner.

If you were feeling generous, you might think it was because she was trying to be a good girlfriend.

She was holding proper conversations with everyone (instead of being her usual grumpy self), telling the waitress your exact order, and she was even pulling the chair out for you.

A complete gentlewoman.

But you weren't naive. You weren't a fool. You knew what Alexia wanted.

You weren't planning to make her work for it. No. You were planning to (very willingly) pleasure her, give her all your attention as soon as dinner was over, and you two were back in the villa's room.

But in Alexia's mind, it seemed like she thought she had to be on her very best behaviour to earn her orgasms.

You liked her like that. Compliant. Polite. Eager. Especially after she had ruined your couple's vacation by bringing the girls along.

So you didn't say anything. You barely spared her a glance as she talked to Jana and Bruna about football things you didn't understand.

You ignored Alexia when Patri asked you about your work. You even slapped her hand away when she tried to place it on your thigh from under the table.

You didn't mind the slight pout that formed on her face as she pretended not to care.

You enjoyed how she proceeded to ask if you wanted her to fill your glass of juice. As if she wanted to please you. She grabbed the juice jar and did it without even letting you answer. 

So polite!

Alexia wasn't like that. She wasn't restless. But right now, her legs were shaking, her feet tapping against the ground annoyingly, her hands idle, as if they had no purpose if they weren't touching you. Which they weren't. You didn't let her.

You caught her looking at you sometimes, as if she was ready to speak, but she didn't have the courage to let the words out.

Even the girls noticed how dizzy she seemed. How… distracted.

You wanted to be mean tonight. Not cruel, though.

You were still going to keep your promise of making Alexia come and let her strap you. But first, you wanted to have a little fun.

Bruna asked you what the hell you actually did as a lawyer, and you were suddenly very engaged in the conversation. You explained how you specialised in sports law, how you worked for the federation, taking care of all the bureaucracy.

The girls watched you with interest, but not as much interest as Alexia, who had heard you explain this probably a dozen times before, and still didn't look bored.

While you were talking, your palm fell onto Alexia's thigh, over her long dress. She froze next to you, but tried to keep her composure.

"I don't have to go to court much, no," you explained to Jana. "I do most of the research and the paperwork… I work behind the scenes."

Your hand trailed higher. Alexia was rigid under your touch.

Poor thing. You weren't even touching her skin yet (just the fabric of her dress), but you could feel her shiver; you could bet the fine hairs on her legs were standing up.

You excused yourself to the bathroom, and Alexia followed.

You pretended not to notice her steps, but when you went to close the single-stall bathroom, her hand appeared, keeping it open just enough for her to slip in.

"Amor," she whined, taking a step closer and trapping you between her body and the sink. She nuzzled her nose against your temple, her warm breath on your skin. "Let's go back to our room, sí?"

You let her kiss your neck, your body soft against hers.

"Don't be rude, Ale," you said. "We're here with your teammates, remember? The ones you invited? We need to spend time with them."

You wanted to punish her. Just a little.

"They can stay here, finish their dinner," Alexia said, hands gripping your hips and pushing you even further into the sink. "And we can go. Por favor?"

You wanted it too, so much. You were wet for her, had been since Alexia had guided your fingers into her cunt, showing you how desperate she was.

Maybe you could let yourself have a little fun. Maybe you could be a little mean.

"Get on your knees and make me come," you said bluntly. "And then I'll think about leaving dinner early."

Alexia clearly wasn't expecting it. Her mouth fell open, but it didn't take long before she helped you up onto the sink, your hands holding onto the sink as she got on her knees.

For someone who liked to be in control so much, Alexia was very keen to follow orders.

"Okay, amor," she murmured, spreading your legs open, exposing you. "Te amo, te amo," she whispered as she kissed from your calf up to your thigh.

"Hurry, Alexia," you said sternly. "Can't leave your teammates waiting."

Alexia let out a sound that could only be classified as a whine.

She pressed her face to your underwear, breathing you in, licking you through the fabric.

You were ready to tell her to hurry up again, but she was faster, quickly hooking the fabric aside with her fingers.

Your hands instinctively went to her head, tugging lightly at her hair as her tongue licked from your hole all the way to your clit. Her tongue was warm, her spit mixing with your own wetness.

She dragged her tongue over you once more before focusing on your clit. Alexia liked to taste you, to fuck you with her tongue, but she needed to be fast, and she knew it.

Her hands gripped your thighs, and you were sure they would leave marks, but you didn't care. You didn't care about anything.

Her lips latched around your clit, and you saw stars. She didn't take her mouth off you.

Not when you begged for a break. Not when your thighs closed around her head and you were sure she would suffocate from the lack of air.

She didn't stop even when someone knocked on the bathroom door five times.

She didn't stop until you came on her tongue, mumbling things neither of you could understand.

She only stopped when you pushed her hair back harshly. Alexia looked up at you with a pout.

Her face was completely wet, a mess of your orgasm all over her. Her brows were furrowed, as if she couldn't understand why you would take her meal away.

"It's enough, Alexia," you said, breathless, your cheeks flushed from the intensity of your orgasm.

"What?" she asked softly. "No good? I can be better, sí? I'll try again," she said, pulling your hand away from her hair and placing her face right back to your cunt.

"Ale—" you started, but she cut you off with her tongue, swirling around your clit again.

You wanted to come again. God, you wanted it so much. But you knew it would send you into a completely different head space, one you wanted Alexia to be in, not you.

You yanked her hair, hard enough to make it hurt on purpose.

She whimpered as you pulled her face from between your legs, your grip firm, not releasing her even as her eyes filled with tears.

"What did I tell you?" you asked slowly, dangerously calm.

Alexia stayed silent, staring at you like the words were stuck in her throat.

She looked so conflicted, so needy… it made you want to take her back to the room, make her come, kiss her until she was wet and ready for you again.

You wanted to spoil her. But she wasn't helping herself. And you weren't one to reward bad behaviour.

"What. Did. I. Tell. You." You leaned down until your face was inches from hers, her eyes never leaving you, as if she were bewitched.

"Yo-you said it was enough," she whispered.

"So why did you put your mouth on me again, if I said it was enough?"

"I-I don't know," she stammered, eyes looking around the bathroom as if searching for an answer. "Perdón… I-I'm confused."

She really looked confused… like a lost puppy.

"Then you better get your mind right," you said. "Do you understand me? Or else you go to sleep with your cunt wet and needy, and I won't give you anything."

"P-pardon…" she whimpered, tears falling down her cheek.

You cupped the back of her head, pulling her face closer. You stuck your tongue out and licked her tears.

She froze, solid on the bathroom floor.

You moved your mouth to her ear. "Your tears are so sweet, preciosa. Makes me think your pussy must be just as sweet. You wouldn't deny me my pussy, right?"

Alexia shook her head, eyes wide.

"Good," you said condescendingly, patting her cheek. "So you're going to behave and do what I say?"

Another eager nod.

"Perfecta." You kissed her lips softly. "Can you remind me of your colours, Ale?"

It took her a moment to understand. For someone who captained club and country, Alexia could be surprisingly slow when she was feeling subby.

"Red, yellow, and green," she recited slowly, as if remembering was hard.

You kissed her again. "And can you tell me your colour now?"

"Green," she said, quicker this time.

"Great." You kissed her nose.

You slid off the sink, trying to steady yourself while Alexia stayed kneeling. You washed your hands, then leaned over, tugging her hair so she had to look up at you.

"I'm going back to dinner. You pull yourself together and join us, sí?"

Alexia nodded.

"Words, Alexia," you said.

"Sí, sí," she replied quickly. "I'm going."

"Muy bien, preciosa," you said, kissing her forehead before quickly fixing her messy hair. "Don't take too long. I'll be waiting for you."

You walked back to the table, leaving Alexia behind in the bathroom. You took a deep breath, trying to look like someone who hadn't just came in a restaurant bathroom. 

You were good at acting, so the girls didn't say anything when you sat down, probably because the food had already arrived.

Five minutes later, Alexia sat on the chair next to you.

She, on the other hand, didn't have the same skill. Her eyes were distant, her mind clearly somewhere else. They were still a little red from tears, but to anyone who didn't know her, it could easily be mistaken for allergies.

The girls were chatting with each other. You chimed in here and there, between bites.

Alexia stayed quiet. Different from before, she wasn't ignoring anyone on purpose; she just… wasn't there.

You didn't want her mind drifting. Not when she was surrounded by people. Her foggy, submissive head space was for your eyes, and your eyes only.

You watched her eat very slowly. You placed a hand on her thigh, the same spot as before, your thumb brushing her skin above the fabric of the dress.

You were trying to bring her back, to keep her with you.

She looked at you, surprise on her face. She hesitated, but then she placed her hand over yours.

You felt her warm, slightly sweaty hand trembling, so you wrapped your fingers around hers, grounding her there for a few minutes.

You glanced at the girls, still pretty much engrossed in Bruna's phone screen. They wouldn't mind you two now.

You carefully leaned your head against Alexia's shoulder, kissing the spot where her neck met her clavicle.

You kissed her skin softly. It was a sweet kiss, not teasing, but Alexia still shivered.

"You're being very good to me, mi amor," you murmured, keeping your eyes down, not looking at her, focusing on your intertwined hands. "Gonna do everything I promised you, sí?"

"S-sí," Alexia answered, her voice in that small tone that told you everything you needed to know. She was exactly where you wanted her.

"Do you wanna go now?" you asked, placing another kiss. "Or do you want dessert?"

She thought for a second. "I don't want it, b-but… you said you wanted to eat the cheesecake."

You looked up at her and smiled. Such a good girl she was. "You just want to see me happy, huh?"

She nodded. "Muy happy."

"I think…" your fingertip traced up and down her arm, "that I'm craving something else, preciosa. I think you are, too."

"Sí," Alexia said, almost out of breath. The words were caught in her throat as your hand slipped under her dress. "A-amor… qué? oh—"

You touched her through her underwear. Poor Alexia was soaked, the wet spot obvious even without you having to look at it.

"Oh, my baby," you said, faking empathy. "Eating me out made you this wet?"

Your voice was low enough that no one else could hear. The girls were too caught up in whatever Bruna was showing them.

But still, Alexia's eyes looked around nervously between the girls and the rest of the restaurant.

"Talk to me, Alexia," you said, your tone dry.

"Sí, amor," she whispered, a pout forming on her face. "I want you so much."

Without warning, you pushed her underwear aside and sank two fingers into her cunt.

Her mouth immediately formed an ‘O' before she snapped it shut, trying not to make a sound. to keep herself together.

Her hand gripped the chair, her chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.

"I love you, mi amor," you murmured against her neck. "So much."

"Te amo," she said, though it sounded like she was just repeating whatever you said.

You thrust your fingers a few times, just enough to feel her tightness and wetness around you, to feel her clenching.

When you noticed her body starting to tremble with need, you withdrew your fingers, taking her underwear with you.

She looked at you with wide eyes as you leaned slightly to slip the panties down her legs and into your purse.

"You won't need those when we get back to the hotel," you said with a calm smile, as if you were just talking about the weather.

She only nodded, still breathing unevenly.

The waitress came for the payment, and the girls finally looked up from the phone. Patri and Jana were talking about how to split the bill, but Alexia suddenly placed her black credit card on the table.

"Here. J-just put everything on this," she said.

"No, Ale, it's oka—" Bruna began, but Alexia interrupted her.

"No," she said, already standing and moving behind your chair, pulling it out for you.

She grabbed your hand (her palm was clammy) and started tugging you toward the exit of the restaurant.

"You niñas use the card to pay for the meal and… go do something. Anything," she said, her voice rising slightly as the two of you walked away. "Get ice cream or- I don't know…. It's on me!"

The girls just stared, confused. You, on the other hand, just chuckled. You loved desperate Alexia. It made you want to devour her.

And you did.

When you reached the villa's room, the poor girl didn't know what to do with herself.

She closed the door and immediately turned to you, big, eager eyes waiting for orders.

Slowly, you walked to the bed and sat on the edge. You curled your finger, calling her closer, and she obeyed.

"Do you wanna get on your knees, preciosa?"

Alexia nodded, kneeling for the second time today at your feet.

You cupped her jaw, taking a moment to admire the beautiful colour of her eyes, the shape of her nose, and the shape of her mouth. 

"Mi niña bonita," you murmured, turning her jaw slightly, as if inspecting something valuable. She let you do whatever you wanted.

"Can you tell me what you want to do tonight? Or do you want me to decide everything for you?" you asked gently.

She was so far gone, you already knew the answer.

"Want you to think about everything," she said, her eyes locked on yours.

"Okay, Ale," you said. Your thumb pressed her chin, opening her mouth.

You leaned forward and spit directly onto her tongue. She stayed like that for a moment, mouth open.

"You can swallow, bebé," you said.

She did.

"Do I taste good?"

"S-sí," she said, nodding almost desperately. "Very good."

"Then why don't you eat me out again? If I taste that good."

Her eyes looked up at you, then her gaze dropped to your thighs. You parted your legs and lifted your dress, showing yourself to her.

"Take my underwear off," you told her.

With shaky fingers, she slid them down. She stared at your cunt like she hadn't just had a meal.

As soon as Alexia licked you, it was like the bathroom all over again. She was desperate, but you weren't sure exactly why. 

Did she just want to taste you? Did she want to be good? Or the two weeks without having sex turned her mind into an animalistic version of itself?

She ate you out like it was the last thing she was ever going to do.

She dragged her tongue through your wet folds, spreading your slick, then thrust her tongue into your hole before focusing on your clit, wrapping her lips around it and sucking deliciously.

Alexia wasn't teasing you. She was honestly doing everything she could to make you come fast.

You held her head against your cunt, keeping her there, afraid she might pull away, but with how hungry she was, that probably wasn't going to happen.

You closed your eyes, focusing on her warm breath against your pussy, her (very skilled) tongue giving your clit so much attention it almost made you want to cry.

It didn't take long before your heart started racing, for your breathing to become shallow.

Your legs trembled around her shoulders, and then you came. It was one of the best orgasms of your life.

This time, when you told her it was enough, Alexia stayed perfectly still, looking up at you, her face a mess, waiting for her next order.

From the way she stared, you knew she would happily eat you out all night if you let her.

"Come here, my love," you said, and she got up on her feet.

She was taller than you, but with you sitting on the bed, her puppy expression was anything but intimidating.

"Strip for me," you said simply, as you undressed yourself too, so you were completely naked in front of her.

Alexia eagerly obeyed, and her dress fell to the bedroom floor. She stood naked before you.

Your eyes looked up and down her body, at her firm abdomen, at her strong arms, her thighs … fuck, her thighs.

You placed your hands on her waist and brought her closer. She let out a tiny, surprised sound, and she didn't hesitate this time .

You leaned forward, kissing her stomach, licking every bit of skin you could reach.

"Pretty. Mi niña bonita, all mine," you murmured against her warm skin.

You glanced up at Alexia. Her eyes were closed, her mouth slightly open; she was just letting you worship her. Your heart softened at the sight.

She was always so good to you, such a good girlfriend, hardworking, devoted, and now completely trusting you to do whatever you wanted with her body.

Your hands cupped her breasts, twisting her nipples. They were so hard. You licked one before wrapping your lips around it and sucking.

"Amor," Alexia whined, leaning into you, like she needed you to take more of her, as if it was physically possible. "I-it's so good…"

You kept sucking her tits, noticing how her thighs were slightly parted.

Your hand slid to her ass, and you grabbed a handful of soft skin, making her moan, then you pulled her closer to you. One hand stayed on her ass as the other cupped her c.unt.

"Your pussy is so pretty," you said, rubbing your thumb over her clit, holding her still as her thighs began to shake. "And all mine."

"Yours… please—" she whined. "More, baby. Please?"

She was so wet that her inner thighs were a mess. You kissed her navel before sliding two fingers into her pussy.

Alexia moaned (the prettiest sound you had ever heard).

Her hips rocked with your fingers, and when you looked up at her, she was a goddess: her cheeks were red, her eyes shut… she was biting her lip. All yours.

Alexia was all yours.

You kept thrusting until her legs trembled harder, and you were sure she wouldn't be able to stand much longer.

"Ale," you said, slowing your fingers. "Go lie on the bed for me. On your back. Spread open, okay?"

She nodded, and you pulled your fingers out. She lay back clumsily, and her legs spread the moment her back hit the mattress.

You crawled on top of her, meeting her eyes. You smiled, then kissed her lips in a deep, messy kiss, tongues and saliva were all over the place.

You could taste yourself on her mouth, and you didn't stop until you were both breathless.

"Hold your tongue out for me," you murmured.

Alexia obeyed, her tongue out and still. You wrapped your lips around it, sucking, and her hips started to rut against your body.

You pulled back, a string of saliva connecting your mouths. You kissed her gently before pressing your hands together.

"You can come whenever you want to, sí?"

Alexia's eyes widened, like she couldn't believe it. "Gracias, mi amor… gracias," she mumbled, like she was praying.

You kissed your way down her body, sucking one nipple into your mouth on your way down, then you licked her abdomen, stopping at her navel.

She was completely spread out for you.

You could see every detail of her pussy…. her folds glistening, her clit puffy and demanding attention, her hole clenching and begging to be filled. Even the birthmark on her inner thigh that you had kissed countless times.

You used two fingers to spread her lips open and smiled when a soft whine came out of Alexia's mouth. Her clit was so red and sensitive that you pressed a kiss to it.

Then you grabbed her hands, which were clenching the blanket, and placed them over her cunt.

She looked at you in surprise but didn't question you.

"Touch yourself for me," you said.

Without breaking eye contact, she brought her middle finger to her clit, rubbing side to side, her body twitching already. You watched, completely mesmerised by her.

Her poor cunt was clenching, there was slick everywhere, but she was only focusing on her clit.

"Finger yourself, preciosa," you instructed. "Let me see you."

"O-okay," she panted. One hand rubbed her clit, and the other pushed two fingers inside herself.

It always amazed you how long her fingers were. She reached deep inside, and every time she pulled out, her fingertips glistened with wetness.

You couldn't just watch anymore. You straddled Alexia, hovering above her without sitting down.

She looked confused, but you told her to keep going, not to stop, to just focus on herself.

Your hand went to your own pussy, rubbing your clit, your fingers brushing hers as she touched herself.

You wanted to watch her face, but the sight between her legs was too heavenly to look away from.

You picked up your pace as Alexia's tells gave her away… her trembling thighs, her irregular breath, her soft whimpers.

"Amor," she mumbled (barely coherent), words clumsy in her mouth. "I-I—"

"I know, Ale," you said, closing your eyes as your own orgasm built. "Be my sweet girl and come for me, baby. Come right here."

Less than a minute later, both of you were coming.

Alexia's whole body went rigid, every muscle became stiff as she came. You, in contrast, went completely soft, melting into her as if your muscles had given up working.

You collapsed on Alexia's chest, feeling her shallow breaths against your shoulder as you tried to come back to reality.

Your ear rested on her heart, and you listened to her heartbeat slowly settling. Alexia wrapped her arms around you and kissed your neck gently.

You wanted to talk to her, but there was no energy left in your body. So you did what felt natural; you began rutting softly against her.

When you moved, your pussies stayed pressed together, wetness mixing between you.

You kissed Alexia's shoulder, moving your hips lazily. The angle wasn't perfect(your clits were barely touching ), but the friction was delicious.

Alexia grabbed your hips, guiding the rhythm.

You wanted to slap her hand away, remind her who was in charge, but she was so far gone you knew she wasn't trying to control; she was just needy, horny.

Your hardened nipples brushed against hers, sending shivers through your body.

You didn't know what time it was, you didn't know how long it lasted, you only knew that both of you came again.

This time, Alexia let out a soft cry. You looked at her face and saw tears running down her cheeks.

"What's wrong, pretty girl?" you asked gently. "Tell me your colour, sí?"

Alexia opened her eyes slowly; she looked very dizzy. "G-green… just-feeling confused."

You pouted, this time without teasing. You kissed her lips.

"What about you fuck me nice and good, and then we go to bed? Does that sound good?"

Alexia nodded.

"Do you want me to put the strap on for you? Or can you do it yourself?"

"Don't… think I can," she admitted softly. "Want you to do it."

You kissed her forehead before sliding off the bed. "Okay, mi amor."

Your legs ached from the orgasms, and wetness was dripping down your thighs; you couldn't even tell whose wetness it was anymore, if it was yours or Alexia's.

You knelt by the suitcase, pulling out the strap and dildo.

When you returned, Alexia was still lying down, so you asked her to kneel on the bed. You secured the harness around her hips, adjusting the dildo in place.

"Looking so pretty," you murmured as you tightened the last strap. "So well-behaved today. I'm so proud of you."

In any other situation, you would have laughed: Alexia was blushing, actually blushing. After everything tonight, she still blushed, eyes dropping to the mattress shyly.

"I want you to do exactly what I say, okay?" you said, already getting into position.

You lowered yourself on all fours, there was a pillow under your chest, as you let your arms fall softly on your side, so only your ass was up.

"Fuck me good, baby." You told her.

You closed your eyes, your face squished into the pillows. You heard Alexia shifting behind you.

She was taking longer than usual; normally, she would be in a hurry, but not tonight. Tonight, she was gentle.

But you didn't want gentle right now.

Alexia leaned over you, dropping part of her weight onto your back. She kissed the back of your neck tenderly, her tongue audacious against your skin.

You parted your legs, hoping the hint would make her move faster…but she didn't.

"You smell so good," she said in a small voice, and you felt a little guilty for wanting to rush her (but not that guilty.)

"Alexia, be good to me," you said, turning your head to catch her eyes. "Fuck me, mi preciosa. Go on." Your patience was already wearing thin.

Alexia pressed one last kiss to your neck before settling on her knees. Dopamine had completely taken over her body.

She just wanted to please you, to worship you.

Her entire mind was you. You, and only you.

It was like she was part of you. Like the two of you were made to stay like this forever: skin to skin, tangled up.

She wanted to see you smile, to watch you come, to make you happy.

She wanted to kiss you, and she wanted you to kiss her.

Alexia didn't usually let herself get like this. She liked to be in control, to be the fixer, the steady one, always one step ahead.

The one to set the rules, to make sure you followed her. But tonight, it felt good to let go. To not think. To listen and obey. To be good. To be well-behaved.

You wanted the strap, and Alexia was going to give it to you( exactly how you liked) because she was, indeed, a very good girl. She would do anything you asked.

Alexia's eyes dropped to your pussy. It was just like hers: wet, messy, and practically shining between your thighs.

Her own cunt clenched. Maybe it was the endorphins, maybe exhaustion, but she barely felt her own body anymore…only need.

Alexia leaned down and kissed the bottom of your back before her hands found your ass, spreading you. She kissed and licked every bit of skin she could touch until she reached your clit.

"Alexia," you said sternly, turning your head. "How many times do I have to say it? Are you going to fuck me, or do you want punishment?"

The word punishment sent a red light flashing in Alexia's mind. She didn't want punishment. She was being good.

She was just loving you… why punishment?

She thought she was doing the right thing, preparing you for the strap, making sure you were wet enough.

"No punishment," Alexia said, fighting a pout.

You turned fully around. Your brow was furrowed, your jaw locked in a painful way.

You grabbed the harness at her hips, tugging hard enough that she stumbled forward.

You caught her by the waist so she wouldn't fall on top of you.

"Just because you have this on your hips," you said, yanking the strap just for emphasis, "doesn't mean you're in control. Do you understand that?"

Alexia nodded, tears beginning to shine in her eyes. "I just wanted to get you ready—"

You rolled your eyes and grabbed her hand before guiding her fingers inside you. Her finger slid in with almost no resistance. You were absolutely dripping.

"Do I look ready enough?"

Alexia gulped, keeping her fingers in you. "Sí…"

You held her jaw, making her look deep into your eyes. "I told you to give me the strap. Not to kiss me. Not to tease me."

"Perdón," Alexia whispered.

"Who's in control?"

"You, mi amor."

"Who knows better?"

"You," she repeated.

"Then you better do what I ask."

"Sí. I'll do whatever you want. So sorry, amor," she whispered.

You smiled softly, your thumb brushing her tears away.

"I don't like it when you don't listen to me." You pressed that same thumb to her mouth, making her open up, before placing it on her tongue.

She wrapped her lips around it, sucking while staring at you.

"One time, you're perfectly behaved," you murmured, "and the next, you don't listen." You pouted at her, just enough to make her squirm.

"Perdón, I—oww!" Alexia winced as your palm smacked her ass. It stung your own hand too; you were sure it was going to leave a mark.

"Count," you ordered, keeping her on her knees in front of you.

You spanked her ten times. By the fifth, Alexia was a crying mess, mumbling about being sorry, about wanting to be good.

But Alexia wasn't the only one in a special head space.

You were in a dom space… now you were all about being heard, being obeyed. It felt strange, but good.

When the last slap landed on her skin, you kissed her tears away. "What colour, mi amor?" you whispered against her wet cheek.

"Green," she sniffled softly.

"Good." You massaged her ass, ignoring how the strap nudged your stomach. You wanted the strap a lot, but you didn't want to overwhelm her.

"Ale, look at me," you said, cupping her jaw. "Do you want to stop? Want me to make us a bath?"

"No," she answered instantly, the fastest reply she had given all night. "I want to use it on you. Please. I promise I'll listen this time."

"Do you?" you pressed. "Do you really promise you'll be good?"

Another eager nod. "Sí. Te prometo."

You patted her cheek and turned around, getting back into position. "Then you can do whatever you want, preciosa."

Alexia kept her promise.

She filled you completely. You were so wet that she slid in with no resistance.

She pressed almost her entire weight onto your back and began thrusting into you, murmuring in your ear about how good you felt.

You could barely speak. Her warmth, her presence, her weight… it was overwhelming.

You felt so full, you had waited weeks for this: to have Alexia to yourself, to be fucked by her, filled up, loved and cared for.

The strap was so deep, hitting you perfectly. Her breathing against your neck made your eyes roll back.

"I wanna hold hands," Alexia said shyly, and your heart melted.

"Here, bebé," you breathed, reaching for her hands. She laced her fingers with yours as she kept pounding into you.

Her thrusts were hard and fast, but the kisses she pressed to your spine were tender, gentle, her way of telling you how much she had missed you, too.

"Good, Ale... like that," you moaned, feeling full, feeling hers. "Fuck, baby…"

Alexia kept moving, the base of the strap brushing her clit. She was close; you both were.

Your body felt everything at once. Her weight. Her warmth. The sound of the strap sliding in and out of your cunt. And then the the rise of your orgasm coming, and… something more too.

You let go of Alexia's hands, gripping her forearms. "Alexia, I'm—"

Alexia thrust twice before she came with a whimper in your ear, and your own orgasm ran through your body as well.

Your pussy clenched around the strap. You felt as if your whole body was shutting down.

You closed your eyes, hearing Alexia murmur something you couldn't even register.

When you opened them again, you didn't know how many minutes had passed. Alexia was still on top of you, the strap snug inside.

She was kissing your cheek softly.

"Open your eyes, bebé," she whispered, until you did.

You felt the strap again, but now it was too much. You shifted your hips, trying to get it out.

"I-I don't want—" you mumbled, and Alexia understood immediately.

"I'm pulling out, don't worry," she said, voice so sleepy you wondered if she might pass out right there.

Alexia watched carefully as she slid the strap from you. If she hadn't just come, she would have wanted to go again, but her mind was fuzzy, her ass still stung, and you looked completely wrecked.

She was sure you would both sleep until midday.

Alexia wasn't usually one to leave things lying or throw around, but tonight, she let the strap and dildo fall somewhere on the floor. That was tomorrow's problem.

She collapsed beside you, face first into the mattress, with one arm wrapping around your back. "Are you okay?" she asked, voice hoarse.

"I'm the one who should be asking that," you said, smiling at her. "I'm not the one who took a spanking."

"Let's not talk about that…" Alexia groaned, burying her face in the pillow.

You slid closer to her, almost on top of her, kissing the side of her head. "Come on, don't be embarrassed. We have done worse."

Alexia always got shy after letting herself be more submissive. You didn't understand why; you never felt embarrassed after subbing.

"You were perfect for me," you purred in her ear. "Thanks for letting me take control." You playfully bit her earlobe before slipping out of bed.

If Alexia had been trying to look tough, the moment your warmth left her side, she whined…actually whined. "Nooo. Come back."

"Just getting the oil for you," you explained, going to the suitcase.

"I don't want it," she grumbled, still face-down, she probably hadn't moved because her ass was still sore.

"I didn't ask if you wanted it," you said. "I told you I'm getting it."

When you came back to the bed and began applying the oil, Alexia opened her mouth to argue, but the second the cold liquid touched her skin, her whole body relaxed.

Guilt filled your chest. "Was it… too rough? The spanking?"

Alexia shook her head against the pillow, then turned to face you.

"No, bebé, don't worry." She smiled and reached out, brushing your cheek with her thumb. "I enjoyed myself. I mean it. If it was too much, I would have told you."

You smiled softly. "Okay."

You massaged her skin until Alexia complained about how long you were taking; you rolled your eyes before finally curling into her side. She wrapped her arm around you.

"I need to change the sheets," you muttered.

"No…" she mumbled, half-asleep.

"They're drenched," you tried again.

"And they'll stay that way until morning."

"Are you really going to sleep on wet sheets?"

"Just like you said… we have done worse."

You wanted to argue, but your eyelids were heavy. So you let them close. Just for a minute. You would. wake up and change them soon… just five minutes.

A/n: had a lot of fun writing this hehe. hope u guys liked it too?

Tag list: @fortifyde, @naomigirmadefender , @neutraiise , @milkveed, @browercc , @ace-of-baked , @ikzzzya , @sky-the-trans-guy00 , @knight-16 , @wosohk04 , @evaissleepy13, @papimapileon , @unpoppablebubbles @whiskeredshrimp-blog @goodloe-e @liloandstitchstan @s0ciety-cxv @dfwspky @karmajn @awosofavs @wosofavfanfics @riyaexee @miaereen

[lunescore]

Sevika training shy, quiet reader not to be so quiet during sex (saying "yes, mommy" to her and generally being louder)

SPELLBOUND

BULLY!SEVIKA X TUTOR!READER—

CONTENT: mommy kink, strap, virginity loss, virgin!reader, mating press, spitting, mentions of tearing, handcuffs, sex with plot, size kink, very slight corruption kink, aftercare included

WORD COUNT: 1.7k words

Her heart was thumping, she didn't expect her tutor to come in looking like a complete snack. It was you— the topper in Sevika's class during high school and she bullied you to bits for it. You didn't hate her, you knew how annoying you probably sounded answering all of the teacher’s questions ahead of your peers and always getting a perfect score. You were bound to have haters. This is exactly what made you even more insufferable to Sevika.

You were supposed to be pissed at her, but instead you accepted her behaviour and torment for the years you were in high school. Unbelievable.

“Oh, it's you.” Your voice snapped Sevika out of her daze.

She gathered her books defensively. “I'm guessin’ this is the moment you rub it on my face, that I'm beneath you because I'm bad with math or somethin’?”

You blinked innocently, those glossed pink lips parting as if you'd deny it all, and you did. Of course, you did. You were the epitome of perfection. Innocence. Feminine. “I don't know what you're talking about,” you fiddled with the chain of your purse, “But if you'd rather have a different tutor I can—”

“Don't bother,” Sevika said flatly, her ears red, “Sit.”

It irked Sevika how prime and proper you were. You were dainty, naïve, beautiful. The ideal kind of girl any man would crave attention from. You spoke in a soft tone, always so measured, so calculated. And your posture was always good too. It was like there was not a single thing anyone could criticise about you. Your eyes glanced up, catching Sevika's stare.

“You're not listening,” you stated. You didn't ask.

Sevika shifted in her chair, the legs of it dragging as she scooted closer. “Yeah, sorry, you were saying?”

Sevika didn't know why your softness and purity made her loath you so much. Why did she bully you in highschool? She wasn't jealous of you. That wasn't the case. But then why did it bother her so much? Your eyelashes fluttered beautifully as you reached forward and uncapped your pen, the nib of it dragging across the page smoothly as you drew out graphs to make her understand better. Sevika's mind was elsewhere— your delicacy was still something that triggered an itch in Sevika. An itch she didn't know how to scratch.

If only she could kiss you. Claim you and mark you. Your skin would look so good marked with her hickeys and lovebites. If only. It was a fantasy she'd had since high school and she was ashamed of it. She never allowed herself to act on it. She didn't want to be fucking ‘the nerd girl who had everyone wrapped around her pinky finger’.

Her train of thoughts broke with a small sound of your throat clearing, “Sevika, you're not paying attention.”

“I'm sorry, excuse me,” she got up so fast, her chair dragged back with an annoying screech of its legs scratching the floor beneath, “I’ll be right back.”

And she left.

You sat there bewildered before you focused back at the graphs, Sevika was still as weird as you thought she was since high school. You didn't know Sevika thought of spreading your legs and fucking you silly. You didn't know that she stayed up fantasizing about making those blush covered cheeks flush red from emotion when she'd get you flowers. You didn't know Sevika had a thing for you.

A very big thing actually.

Time was moving so slow, you glanced at the clock and tapped your foot against the ground.

“Where is she?” You muttered to yourself.

You decided you'd text her to come back or you were leaving. But where was your phone?

You shifted the heavy book out of the way, reaching under the stack of notes to grab your phone. The book tilted and something fluttered out, falling to the floor limply. Your eyes caught sight of it, it was a sketch. You picked it up to put it back into Sevika's book right where it was. You didn't want to see it. It wasn't your business. But then you saw it. It was a drawing of you and Sevika together. Your eyes widened.

“Hey, I'm back—”

You shoved the paper away under your copy, Sevika gave you a tight lipped smile, unaware. Sevika sat down next to you again, your knees grazing hers slightly. “A-are you free on— uh— Sunday?” You asked.

Sevika's cheeks tinted. “Yeah, of course. Yeah, I am.” She blurted out.

“Great,” you swallowed, “Can I take you— uhhh… do you wanna go out on Sunday?” You asked, your bottom lip quivering. You didn't know how this asking out thing worked.

“Oh…” Sevika's mouth parted silently for a second before she smiled and nodded.

It began with a small date, then you told her how you grew up so sheltered and controlled by your parents that you'd never experienced a normal dating life. Sevika only smiled and listened on. You were an innocent pretty thing for her to ruin. It turned her on, imagining your pretty self in her bed, tangled in her sheets as moaned for her not to stop.

It wasn't long until one day you agreed to get in bed with her although you said, “I might not be really impressive in bed but I excel in other things.”

“Oh, I know, princess,” Sevika kissed your cheek and opened the door, “Don't worry about it, leave it to mommy, yeah?”

Your cheeks flushed. “Mommy.” You repeated, your thighs squeezing together as Sevika led you to the huge bed, you laid down, legs dangling off the edge and you watched Sevika reaching away to close the door, lock it and draw the curtains.

“You're mine,” Sevika growled, basically pouncing on you.

“I am,” you breathed, your legs spreading out already. Eager.

Sevika leaned in between your legs, “My pretty little thing,” her fingers felt the way your panties were damp, she grabbed the hem, glancing at you. You nodded. Your panties were tugged down and away, skirt bunched up. “You look delicious.” Sevika held your hips, squeezing it gently.

Sevika stripped you, then herself. She took out her strap from the drawer and clicked it in place, eyes locked on you. You had a dreamy look on your face, something about letting her take full dominance over your small self was so arousing.

“Be gentle with me?” You whispered.

Sevika nodded, “You're a virgin, aren't you?” She grinned, “This pussy’s all mine.”

Her strap was at the entrance of your pussy, slowly pushing in and stretching you out making you whimper and throw your head from one side to another. You looked beautiful, dazzling.

“Mommy! Mommy, you're so thick!” You moaned into her neck as she thrusted harder, pounding into your smaller body. “Mmm…”

Sevika grabbed the undersides of your thighs, her nails digging into your flesh as she shoved your legs to fold against your chest, your knees touched your breasts and squished as she slipped back inside. Her hips pistoned almost violently causing your body to tremble and low whines filled the air. You heard her faint grunt every time her clit bumped with the base of the strap.

“Sev, mommy—” your head lolled to the side, “Please, give me all of you. Fuck me like a fuck toy.”

Sevika paused in her tracks and took a deep breath, her nipples perked against the cold air of the room. She slowly moved back, slipping out of you with a pop before she picked up a pair of purple cuffs, they matched her strap, she held them up for you to see. The pink fuzz of the handcuffs caught in the light. She leaned down and kissed you— heated and it made you crave more of her. The cuffs clicked in place with a satisfying click before Sevika pushed back up, strap glistening with your juices.

You were so wet she easily pushed inside, you moaned, wrists tugging against the restraint faintly.

“Mommy, please,” you gasped, “t-too much,” your body tensed as she folded you with ease and started ramming into you.

Every thrust was calculated but rough, the air filled with the scent of sex and the loud constant schlik schlik of her relentless cock slipping in and out of your sore pussy.

You didn't want her to stop though, Sevika backed up and spat right there on your cunt. Warm spit dripped down on your cunt and into your slit— she pushed back inside.

“Mommy! Fuck!” Your hips bucked.

You didn't really need her to lubricate you further with her spit but it made her pace sloppy and you liked that. Her muscles flexed, abs taut as she pulled back and slammed back inside.

“You like it?” her bigger hand found your nipple, twisting it slightly and tugging.

“I feel like I'm gonna rip, I'm gonna break,” you babbled mindlessly as she continued ramming into you.

Your mouth was open, but barely a sound left it. You took it like a good little girl. Your pussy clenched one last time— feeble. Then you came undone. Sevika helped you ride out your orgasm and stretched it out as much as she could before pulling out, slapping the shaft against your inner thigh. You grinned at her, messed up. But you were a beautiful mess.

“You did so good for me, princess.” Sevika pulled your legs down and kissed you. This time it was gentle and she took her time exploring your mouth. Sevika was really one of a kind.

“Mommy, I'm so tired,” you pouted your spit-glossed lips at her, making her chuckle before she undid the harness and picked you up. Sevika took you to the bathroom.

It was moderately spacious, she sat you at the edge of the bath as she turned it on and made sure the water was a decent temperature before lowering you inside. She bathed you with utmost care and love before drying you up and taking you back to the bedroom.

She laid you out and dressed you up in comfortable nightwear, which actually was just her t-shirt which was huge on your tiny frame.

“I wish you knew how beautiful you looked in my eyes, in my bed, under me, taking my dick.” Sevika brushed your hair, being as gentle and slow as possible.

You giggled and basked in her attention all night. She never failed in making you feel loved.

Never.

[despairots]

HiiI! Mayy I request anaxa, phainon n mydei whit a gn reader that has very bad self esteem but they don't show it? One day Reader overheard some people talking bad about them. How reader Dont deserve someone as good or as amazing or as smart as their boyfriend. Reader start to believe those things were true, how their boyfriend was too good for them.. So reader kinda ran away from their boyfriend ((ahem... More like ghosted but YK)) because they genuinely think their too good for them. It went on for weeks until they conered reader on why their ignoring and avoidant them.. Than reader kinda snaps,breaking down and telling them the truth.

So anyway, have a nice day! （๑ ᷇ 𖥦 ᷆๑)♡

━━━━━━ LOVE YOU ANYWAY.

𓏵 phainon x gn!reader , mydei x gn!reader , anaxa x gn!reader ♱ fluff , angst

⟡ ݁₊ . ˎˊ˗ running back to you. these banners rn r so boring😞 waiting for phainon, anaxa and cerydra is like waiting for my husband to come back to war

♱ phainon! (childhood friends to lovers)

phainon was everyone’s hero, everyone’s dream man. someone so unobtainable yet obtainable, but he shouldn’t have been yours in the first place. you weren’t trying to be a bother, really. you didn’t wanna burden phainon with anymore responsibilities because of your lack of confidence, so you handled it yourself.

by locking yourself away from him.

you didn’t mean to overhear, but you couldn’t help it. people are naturally captivated when they hear their name brought up, so no one could blame you for eavesdropping. you should’ve backed away, you should’ve known caring would get you nowhere but hearing your name slip out already had your heart down to your stomach.

“they’re not good enough for him. he’s a hero, and they’re what…? a nobody.”

maybe what they were saying was true, you weren’t really anybody. sure, you were one of his friends back when you two were younger, but you weren’t anything special. phainon could reassure multiple times that you meant the world to him, but deep down, maybe he was lying. you were nothing compared to him, he could find someone in his actually league.

maybe they were right.

you left him alone ever since. you stopped coming by, only replied to his messages with two words or stickers, and stopped planning dates. phainon noticed, of course he noticed. at first, he thought to just give you space, maybe you were going through something. but then a week passed by, and then 4 weeks, and phainon’s standing on your front porch with flowers.

did he do something wrong? was he not giving you enough attention? no, you knew how important his duties as a chrysos heir was, you even told him to put it above anything else. you couldn’t possibly be mad at that, right?

his hand went up to knock being stopped when he heard you call out his name, “…phainon?” the latter snapped his head to you, lighting up instantly at the sight of you. unbeknownst to him, you were dying in the inside. you didn’t wanna see him, not after everything you did to avoid him.

“are you okay, love? you’re not mad at me, right? did i do something wrong?” he bombarded you with questions, inching closer to you as you tried to keep cool, unlocking your front door and unconsciously letting him in. you didn’t look him in the eyes, taking the flowers gently out of his hands and placing it somewhere else, leaving phainon to kick his feet infront of the door.

why weren’t you talking to him? did he actually do something wrong to upset you? phainon noticed you taking the flowers out and placing it a glass vase, walking up to you and wrapping his arms around your waist. the sudden contact made you tense up, the flower in your hand being lowered when you felt his kiss, “are you mad at me?”

you shook your head, “no… never at you.” phainon blinked at your answer, squeezing you closer to him, “then why have you been ignoring me?” the sound of genuine hurt in his voice made your composure falter, “just… haven’t been feeling well.” you shrugged nonchalantly, the response making phainon frown.

“for 5 weeks?”

“i’m being serious.” he turned you around to face him, hands on your face as he forced you to look at him, “if something’s wrong, just come out and say it.” you narrowed your eyes at him before sighing, looking down from his eyes, “am i… even worth your time?” the vulnerability in your question had him pausing in his tracks.

“of course you are! why even say that?” you still weren’t looking at him, “i don’t know, there’s so many other people who are better than me. why not choose them?” phainon exhaled deeply, pulling you into a hug and feeling you hesitantly hug him back, tears starting to stain his clothes.

“[n], i’ve known you for my entire life. you know what food i hate, what food i like, and what i’d do for you. there’s no one else i wanna spend the rest of my life with, and if we ever were to separate, i’d find you because you’re the only one i have eyes on, and you’re not leaving me anytime soon.”

♱ mydei! (sunshine x grumpy)

mydei already has enough to deal with, like the expectations of the his kingdom and as well as being a chrysos heir. he doesn’t have time to deal with your insecurities (at least you think so), and you don’t bother him by asking for constant reassurance, that’d be really annoying to deal with and you didn’t want mydei to grow tired of you because of it. because you loved him so much, you kept it to yourself.

it didn’t help when you heard verax leo tell you everything everyone thought about you.

you were just walking past him before he decided to ruin your day, calling out to you and asking if you wanted to hear the latest rumours. stupidly, you agreed, ignoring mydei’s warning of just walking away from him whenever he says something stupid. you shouldn’t have wasted your time on him anyway, and you should’ve taken mydei’s advice more seriously.

“people whisper that prince mydei deserves someone more… eye-catching, and not ugly.”

your heart dropped to your stomach, feeling the words weave into your bones and nestle into your brain, damaging your already fragile self-esteem. you covered up your wounded hurt with a scoff, telling verax leo that he shouldn’t waste his time on you ever again before leaving. out from anyones views, you blinked the tears aways, wiping away any that managed to escape.

you avoided him the next day, and after that, and the day after that, until it became 2 weeks.

mydei asked at first, seeing you read his message and replying with a thumbs up. he thought maybe you were mad at him, and just needed to be alone, until those two weeks passed and he found you talking to hyacine. he saw the way her eyes widened with concern, grabbing your hand to comfort you before her eyes flickered to him, stiffening and waving goodbye to you.

you were confused, surprised at her sudden departure and turning around, bumping into his hard chest with a yelp. mydei made sure to grab your forearm tightly but gently, making you unable to leave as you refused to look at him, a troubled look on your face.

“are you mad at me?” you shook your head.

mydei blinked, “then why avoid me?” you shrugged a few minutes later. the half-assed responses making him sigh deeply, he understood that either of you may be bad at communicating, but he desperately wants to know what’s wrong so he can fix whatever he did or what anyone did.

“[n].”

you tried blinking away your watery eyes, staring at the ground to hide the truth of it all. if you even spoke, your voice will crack, and mydei would want an answer. you didn’t want him to know, you didn’t want him to see you like this but you guessed things can’t always be inescapable.

“do think i’m ugly?” mydei raised an eyebrow at your quiet tone, the question throwing him off completely, “…no. where is this coming from?” scratching your cheek, you lifted your head barely, mydei catching the teary eyes as his narrowed, “what happened?” you mumbled something under your breath, toying with your fingers.

“huh?”

“…verax leo.” mydei’s eye twitched, of course it was him. mydei just sighed and forced you to look at him, tears staining your cheeks as he kissed them away, “i’ll deal with him, but you shouldn’t worry about what he says or anyone. i chose you, and i’ll always choose you.”

♱ anaxa! (teachers assistant)

as one of anaxa’s most prized possession, and teacher assistant, his students often stare, not in a mean way but in a ‘how?’ way. it doesn’t help when you constantly feel their gaze piercing you everywhere you go, it made you think: were they judging you? you didn’t let it get to your head, but the judgementally stares were still there. you couldn’t tell anaxa that his students were being judgy, because they weren’t. it was just all in your head.

until it wasn’t.

you were just walking around his library, picking out some books that you wanted to take a look out before stopping when you heard two girls talking about something in the row in front of you. you were never the type of person to eavesdrop on conversations, but this one had your name in it, and you weren’t just gonna walk away.

“why are they even with him? the professor deserves someone much better, and smarter. what does he even see?”

…maybe you should’ve walked.

your hand froze in midair, hearing them laugh and walk away, leaving you alone to be drowned in your thoughts. you knew you weren’t as smart as anaxa, but did they not know the only reason you caught his eye in the first place was because you were able to answer his complicated question?

you scoffed at first before the words came back, eating away at your remaining confidence. did you actually deserve him? maybe he did deserve better than someone who doesn’t care about what people think. you were too sensitive, too emotional. he deserved better than you, he needs someone who can match his level.

you disappeared for 2 days before it became a week, anaxa sending you messages about it and seeing you left him on read.

he knew something was up. you don’t normally disappear without any explanation nor do you disappear at all. so he did what he normally does… barge into your house. okay, not really, he had keys.

you screamed at the sight of him when you turned the lights on. he was drinking his normal ‘fizzy wasabi vinegar,’ staring at you with a deadpanned look, “you scream like you saw a ghost.” you scoffed with an eye roll, “nice seeing you too, prof.” anaxa stopped in his tracks, drink lowering itself from his mouth.

you never call him that.

“what’s wrong?” you just gave him a side eye and left him alone in your kitchen, anaxa getting up mere seconds later and followed you into your bedroom, cornering you onto your bed. you just buried your face into your pillows, telling him to get out of your room.

anaxa wasn’t amused, sitting down beside you and analyzing you, “[n]—“ “go away.” your voice was muffled against your pillow, anaxa narrowing his eyes at your interruption, “don’t interrupt me. what’s going on with you?” you just groaned annoyingly into your pillow, tears staining the sheets and pushing anaxa’s hand away when he pinched your side.

“nothing!”

“that’s not an answer.”

“i don’t know! it’s just—“ you sighed, sitting up and rubbing your neck, “i don’t think i deserve to be your assistant is all.” that was stupid. anaxa frowned, completely confused by your dumb answer, “i doubt you actually think that way.” you glared at him, finding his personality annoying as fuck right now.

“there’s so many other smarter people than me.”

“i don’t care about them.”

“and i think you deserve someone who’s actually smart.”

“…are you even listening to me?—“

“and i don’t deserve you at all—“ anaxa silenced you with a kiss, pulling away with a deadpanned expression, “first of all, i said don’t interrupt me, and second of all, where’d those bizarre words come from?” you shrugged, looking off to the side, “…these two girls in the library.” anaxa raised an eyebrow, “and you believe those two idiots?” you opened your mouth to say something before nodding slowly.

anaxa sighed, already planning to take care of those two, “[n], you’re the one i want by side to sit there while i grade papers, not some simpleton who complains about you.”

[stargazsblog]

I CAN SEE YOU ──꒰✉️꒱ ❞ ‧₊˚

｡𖦹°‧⭑.ᐟ clark kent x fem!reader

꣑ৎ you and clark have been secretly dating for three months. no touching, barley talking at work. so why does it feel like everyone knows?

꣑ৎ now playing - i can see you by taylor swift

tag/warnings: fluff, jealousy, swearing, making out

note: KITCHEN SCENE!!!!! i know i am a little late on this but i just watched superman a week ago and oh my god i love it sm

Working with Clark is probably the most stressful thing ever. Not because he’s difficult—he’s actually the sweetest person in the office. Always kind, always helpful, always handsome.

Which makes it even worse.

Because you’re dating him. Secretly.

And if you told anyone that, no one would believe you. You two barely even look at each other during work hours. He treats you like any other coworker—polite, distant, professional. And you’ve gotten pretty good at pretending you don’t stare every time he rolls up his sleeves or adjusts his glasses.

But now? Now it’s been three months. Three months of pretending you don’t notice him when he walks past your desk with his tie slightly loosened and a coffee in each hand—only placing one on Lois’s desk.

Three months of pretending you’re not dating the guy who texts you goodnight with terrible emojis and kisses your forehead like he’s scared he’ll break you.

And somehow, it still feels like everyone knows.

Maybe it’s the way Jimmy gives you a look every time Clark walks by. Or how Lois asked—very casually—if there’s someone special in your life. Or how Clark, bless him, keeps sneaking glances at you when he thinks no one’s looking.

Working with Clark Kent is exhausting.

You don’t see Clark, but you know he’s late. Again.

You’re standing by the printer near his desk, waiting for your files to finish printing. It’s the closest you’ve been to his chair all week, and it still feels too close. He’s usually already here by now—tie straight, glasses slightly fogged from the rush in. But today, his desk is empty.

Or… it was.

While you’re focused on the machine slowly spitting out paper, you don’t notice him quietly slipping in behind you. You only hear the sound of his bag hitting the floor.

“So this guy flew into Midtown and started attacking people, demanding Superman show up?” Lois says, her voice sharp and curious.

You freeze, your hand hovering over the warm stack of papers. You don’t turn around. You can’t. You already know exactly what they’re talking about. Clark had come to you right after—scuffed up, hair messy, eyes tired. He held you for a long time and whispered, “I’m okay.”

Now he’s here, in clean clothes and calm glasses, like none of it happened.

“Yeah,” Clark replies easily. “It’s all there in my article.”

You can’t help it—your lips twitch into a small smile. His voice is warm, smooth, and steady. Totally unbothered. Like he hadn’t just saved the world again.

You force your attention back to your papers, trying to ignore the twist of jealousy in your stomach. Lois is always talking to him. Laughing with him. She has no idea.

You’ve just collected the last page when you hear someone call your name.

“Hey, Y/N!”

You turn instinctively—and freeze.

Jimmy’s smiling at you from across the room. So is Lois. And so is Clark.

All three of them are watching you, but it’s Clark’s eyes you notice first. There’s a flicker of something behind his glasses. That soft, familiar look he gives you when no one else is around. The one that says, I see you.

You swallow hard, cheeks warming. You pray no one notices.

“Uh—yeah?” you say, pretending like your heart isn’t racing.

Jimmy grins and waves you over. “We were just talking about the Superman situation. You saw it, right?”

You nod slowly, trying not to look at Clark. “Yeah. I saw some stuff online this morning.”

“Total chaos,” Lois adds, crossing her arms. “Guy shows up out of nowhere, starts attacking people.”

Jimmy leans forward, eyes lighting up. “So what do you think of him, Y/N? Superman, I mean.”

Your brain short-circuits. You know they’re just making conversation, but suddenly it feels like the room is too bright, too quiet, like Clark’s staring straight through you.

What do you think of Superman?

You think he’s brave. You think he’s gentle. You think he makes you pancakes at 2 a.m. and wraps you in his arms like you’re the most important person in the universe.

But you can’t say any of that.

So you shrug, and hope your smile doesn’t look as nervous as it feels.

“I mean, he’s cool. I guess?” you say, casually, maybe too casually.

Clark lets out a soft chuckle behind you. Just one little laugh—but you hear it loud and clear.

“Just cool?” Jimmy raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying this.

You blink, flustered. “I mean—do you want me to stand here and praise him for what he does?” you say, half-laughing. “He’s Superman. He’s already got enough fan clubs.”

Lois smirks. “So you’re not a fan?”

“I didn’t say that!” you rush to add. “I just—he’s fine. He does good things. Very… heroic.”

You feel Clark’s eyes on you. You know he’s trying not to smile.

Jimmy grins like he’s cracked some secret code. “You’re totally hiding a crush.”

Your eyes widen. “What? No. Nope. Not at all.”

“Okay, okay,” Lois says, waving it off, “let her live. We’ve all got our opinions.”

You mutter something about needing to get back to work and shuffle away, heat blooming across your cheeks. You don’t dare look at Clark as you pass him—but he leans in just slightly as you go by and murmurs, barely audible:

“Just cool, huh?”

You don’t even look at him. But your smile gives you away.

Your hair’s a mess, your shirt’s half-unbuttoned, and your bag is slipping off your arm. You don’t even bother turning on the lights as you shut the door behind you with your foot and toss your keys somewhere near the counter.

You drag yourself into the kitchen, already reaching for the fridge.

You let out a loud scream.

“Holy shit, Clark!”

Because there he is. In your kitchen. Like it’s totally normal. Shirt sleeves rolled up, glasses off, standing barefoot in front of the stove like he hasn’t just scared ten years off your life.

He glances over his shoulder, completely calm. “Hey.”

“Babe, next time text me you’re coming,” you say, hand still pressed to your chest.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says as he turns off the stove and walks toward you, warm and soft in every movement. “I just know how stressed you’ve been lately, so I wanted to make your favorite—breakfast for dinner.”

You set your bag down and walk toward him, a small smile tugging at your lips.

“That’s your favorite,” you reply.

He grins, dimples and all—those dimples.

“No… last time I checked, you love breakfast for dinner,” he teases, slipping his arms around your waist.

You wrap your arms around his shoulders with a quiet laugh. “You’re annoying.”

“And you’re adorable,” he murmurs before leaning in to kiss you, soft and slow like he has all the time in the world.

Then, without warning, he picks you up effortlessly and sets you on the kitchen counter. You squeak a little, grinning against his lips.

“I thought you were tired,” he says, voice low and amused.

“I was. Then you showed up looking like this,” you tease, tugging playfully at his rolled sleeves.

Clark lets out a hum and starts kissing your neck, slow and deliberate, like he has nowhere else to be but here with you.

“You know,” he whispers between kisses, his lips brushing just under your jaw, “I think we’re doing pretty good at hiding our relationship.”

“You think?” you breathe out, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “Pretty sure your friends have been looking at me weird.”

He smiles against your skin. “Let them look.”

His hands slip under the hem of your shirt, fingertips skimming your waist. “They don’t know anything.”

You tilt your head back slightly, giving him more access, your voice barely a whisper. “They know something.”

Clark pulls back just enough to meet your eyes—dark, soft, and burning with something heavy. “Do you want to stop?”

Your pulse stutters. “No.”

His mouth meets yours, deeper this time, and when he lifts you off the counter and starts walking you toward the bedroom, you forget about Jimmy, Lois,—everything except him.

The newsroom hums with the usual clatter — phones ringing, typing, someone arguing near the printers. You step off the elevator, pretending like everything’s normal. Like you didn’t spend the night in Clark’s arms. Like your shirt doesn’t still smell faintly like his cologne.

Clark walks in behind you, a minute later. Casual. Professional. His tie’s slightly crooked.

You brush past each other in the hallway. Barely. Not even enough for anyone to notice—

Except Jimmy.

Jimmy, sitting at his desk with a half-eaten bagel, tracks the interaction like he’s watching a spy movie. His eyes squint. He leans over toward Lois, lowering his voice like he’s about to break the biggest story of the year.

“How long have they been dating?” he asks.

Lois doesn’t even flinch. Doesn’t even glance away from her computer.

“Three months.”

Jimmy chokes on his bite. “Wait, what?! You knew?!”

Lois finally looks up, unimpressed. “Jimmy. Please. Clark literally smiles now. He’s writing down his so-called funny jokes and he’s wearing cologne. You think he does that for himself?”

Jimmy blinks, stunned. “I thought he was just… glowing.”

Lois rolls her eyes and goes back to typing. “He’s in love, not radioactive.”

[elshenanigans]

player who has major depressive episodes

tw obviously for depression, mental health issues, etc. don’t read if you’re not in a good space

just some thoughts on how the objects would help you, idk if you can call this a drabble or..

putting under break to not trigger anyone

you go from talking with everyone, helping endlessly, forming friendships and relationships…to slowly withdrawing from everyone.

it starts small. shorter conversations, less laughter, a slight drag to your step.

it develops into blank stares mid conversation, a later start to your mornings…refusal of intimacy because you’re not in the mood or don’t have the energy.

you stop giving good advice, stop being so ready to help, stop kissing your partners.

and then, you just stop putting on the dateviators and sink into your bed until you physically have to get up relieve yourself or eat. even then you wait until the very last second.

sometimes it looks like you’re thinking about putting on Skylar, you get as close as pulling her out of the drawer and laying in bed with her for hours before finally just giving up and putting her back in your night stand.

the house would be absolutely distraught. sure they’ve seen you have depressive episodes before, but never when you actually knew they existed and they had genuine relationships with you.

they don’t take it personal because they know you can’t help it, but damn do they wish they could help you more but without the dateviators, there’s little to nothing they can do.

those who have the power to do something, use it to force you to take care of yourself. if you won’t talk to them, fine. but they’ll be damned if they let you just try to rot away.

Stefan and Freddy who make meals for you and have Phoenicia lock your screen until you come to the kitchen. they celebrate if you manage to take even a few bites.

Betty and Mateo, who can’t do anything but comfort you and cuddle you as you bed rot

Teddy who is used to his place in your arms and the tears that soak his fabric.

Curt and Rod who open up your curtains at a reasonable hour, because they want you to get sunlight but they still want to respect your autonomy.

Wyndolyn opens to get you some fresh air. if you close her or the boys, they just open again. they always win because you just don’t have the energy to fight with them.

Dunk who rolls across the hallway into your room as every type of sports ball you have, and teams up with the Hanks to put on a little show for you. it always gets a little smile out of you and that’s all they want.

Eddie and Volt who will refuse to charge your devices after multiple days of doomscrolling to force you over to the breaker box to fix it. the switches refuse to move until you take a break

Bathsheba and River who overhear your meltdown afterwards and run you a hot bath to relax. Barry adds bubbles and perfectly lines up your products to make bathing as easy as possible.

all the objects work together to do what they can to keep you on a decently regular schedule until you’re through the episode or at least feeling better enough to put the dateviators back on.

everyone is SO excited to see you but try not to overwhelm you the first few days. they make sure you don’t feel guilty for not talking to them and just focus on getting back to where they were with you.

everyone who helped you gets instant love endings with YOU ❤︎

[lizardho]

BYU Roommate story 2

The other roommate I had in that apartment was Captain Mormon, and Captain Mormon was a fucking one-man carnival show.

Captain Mormon had lived in that apartment for two years – he was cemented in the ward, he was known by everyone in the area, and he was so God Damned chipper it was almost an insult to my major depressive episodes. My mom came with me to help me move in, because she is a good mama and she is SO good at decorating and organizing and stuff. We bought some basics – bed sheets, a big soft blanket, a Han Solo and Chewbacca body pillow, some coat hangers, the works. And as I’m hauling it all in Captain Mormon comes up to greet us – not offer help, to clarify, but to say “Hello!”

Which was fine until he started talking past the “Hello!” and it became more and more obvious that he was the most annoying type of Mormon. He was homeschooled by Mormon fundamentalists in rural Idaho, he did crossfit, he was 5’2”, he had glasses that made his eyes look 4x bigger than they normally were, he couldn’t read a room to save his life, he couldn’t NOT make it about him, and he was SUPER self-righteous. There was not a single part of his presentation that gave him a fighting chance to be good at socializing.

So he says “Hello,” and he comes bounding down the stairs, big wide-eyed missionary smile plastered on his face, and says “Hi! You must be [deadname]! It’s SO good to MEET you, I am SO excited to get to know you, but before that, just a ~couple~ thingssss, here’s your space in the fridge and because I’m doing CROSSFIT I basically own the pantry but you can store stuff in there too if you want.”

And because I’m depressed and tired and trying to be nice I just nod along as he explains how to live in his apartment, which fine, whatever, good to set boundaries right away (actually tho it does help, at least for me) and he was just getting under my skin because he talked like he was just about to burst into song, like he was in a Dear Evan Hansen universe and nobody but him knew. He finishes his spiel, I say “Cool, thanks for letting me know” and start to walk up the stairs when he starts asking “get to know you” questions “Where are you from? Where’d you go on your mission? What are you studying?” And I answer them one by one and then repeat them to him, starting with the first one:

“Where are you from?”

“Well, originally I’m from HEAVEN! But then God loved me SO much he sent me to live with my super cool mom AND dad in southern Idaho where I was born in the Covenant! I'm so grateful for that!”

I'm not kidding, that is WORD FOR WORD his response. I have witnesses (my mom). it was WILD. And because I’m emotionally connected to my mom we were able to silently, telepathically, look at each other and say “Holy shit this has to be a joke” but it was NOT a joke AND it got worse because he started to tell me his entire life story and as he continued it became more and more and more and more and more and more and more obvious that he was attracted to women against his will because he had a HUGE chip on his shoulder about all the women who had turned him down on dates. His life story included the phrase “friend zone” at least 8 times before he even got to his mission, and after his mission Hoo Boy I lost count.

I figured he may just be awkward and bad at greetings – as a fellow awkward malefailure I was totally there with him tbh so I gave him the benefit of the doubt, although later that night my mom and I did vent about him and my mom DID say that if I wanted to break my lease she’d help me do it because that was a lot.

I told her I’d power through and maybe he was just having an off-day.

He was NOT having an off-day.

He actually got worse, somehow.

Over the next week, I learned that he likes to sing – not by himself, not to himself, he likes to sing AT you, like, getting in my face and dancing on me while he sings. And to make all the WORSE it was singing Disney songs acapella, so I’m not just getting danced at like I’m a Shark and he’s a Jet, but it’s accompanied by “What can I say, except, you’re WELCOME” slightly off key, and it happens at least 4 times a day.

Our shower had something like 6 laminated paintings of Jesus taped up on the shower walls (which in Mormon culture is meant to be an anti-masturbation trick, like you can’t jork if when Jesus is ogling you, but they also go out of their way to give Jesus ‘Daddy’ vibes so…) and he still managed to take 45-minute showers every night at 11:30 PM while belting out Disney tunes to let us know that he wasn’t masturbating, but then kinda trailing off for 20 minutes, then restarting for the last five minutes. This was a nightly routine, btw, and he never missed a night.

I know he was probably autistic, because I’m probably autistic, and while that helped me be patient there were still times where it got aggravating – he was just SO Mormon and SO sanctimonius and also SO oblivious to everyone’s feelings about that, it was just, like, UGH. I know it’s unfair of me, but I’m being self-indulgent in letting myself be annoyed with him despite my better judgement.

The thing that topped off his annoyingness, to me, was that he constantly complained about being friendzoned – like, at least once a week he was bitching and moaning to everyone in the apartment about the new woman who’d friendzoned him. Eventually the siren call of curiosity seduced me and I started looking these ladies up and they were, above all else, fucking GODDESSES, but they were also all over 5’10” and he was 5’2”. That’s not necessarily prohibitive – it limited his options, sure, but as a tall woman myself I’ve never been dissuaded from catching feelings based on height. He could have still been saved by his personality, by intensity, by passion about something, by any other thing, but he was not. Instead, he just persisted in flirting like a belligerent gopher and whining about how not a single one of the 5’10” athletic queens he was head-over-heels for would ever see him as more than a “friend.”

Because I was an undercover woman, I was severely annoyed with him, but one day I had a Jimmy Neutron-esque brain blast – this man is down BAD for anyone he needs a ladder to make eye-contact with, he has the charm and likeability of a grocery bag full of warm raccoon diarrhea, and the hobbies of a Mormon strawman. Despite all of this, there was ONE (1!) woman in our ward who actually got along with him. She was a total sweetheart, ambitious, smart, and she enjoyed hanging out with him! Unfortunately for him she was 5’8” and didn’t play volleyball competitively so he had never noticed her.

I thought I’d throw him a bone – a bone he didn’t deserve because he took my presence as a personal insult to his faith and heritage – but a bone that MIGHT get him off my back. So one day, after complaining about being friendzoned by a 6’0” member of the BYU women’s basketball team, I asked him why he had never asked out the one person who seemed to be able to tolerate his presence. His stopped, thought about it for a second, locked in to think about it for another 10 minutes, then paced around the apartment muttering about how I was a genius and how he couldn’t believe he hadn’t seen it. I was glad he liked my idea, and also worried because he has NO chill and NO ability to see, understand, or respect a boundary, so I reminded him that she was a person with a history of relationship trauma so he needed to calm down and take it slow. They had a weekly “friend date” of going to the temple and then getting Vietnamese takeout and I told him that the only possible approach that could work for her was to be chill, casual, cool, calm, and collected – something along the lines of “Hey, I love doing this every week, we get along well, what if we make the next one a date? Nothing different, we just call it a date and see how it feels?” and he was like “Yeah, yeah, that works, great idea!” and left to his room, probably to masturbate with more vigor than he had ever masturbated before.

Well, the fated day comes – they are going to the temple to do baptisms then grabbing Vietnamese takeout. He gives me a conspiratorial thumbs-up before leaving that made me think he had found a way to fuck it up, but I reminded myself that she had known him for years and still spent time with him on purpose so there was no way in HELL he could fuck this up because she already knew him enough to know the red flags and still hadn’t run.

Well, I settle in to study for a test, I watch some Stranger Things, and sure enough two hours later he comes in like clockwork. I turn around to ask how the ‘date’ went and he’s just like…SO deflated. Like, popped. No wind in his sails. So I immediately know he fucked it up.

“She friendzoned me,” he says

In a different world, that would be the beginning line of what would turn into a frantic and sweaty boyremoval because at this point his only chance at happiness is to give into the hand nature gave him and transition – he’s 5’2”, nerdy, awkward, autistic, skinny, one prostate exam would probably be enough to convert him to the bark side and fully become the puppy girl God made him to be, but I am, first of all, also a bottom, and second of all, fucking CONFUSED as HELL because HOW did he fumble this? Legitimately, how? Like? Ack? What? I was too confused to do my duty to the trans community, so I just asked him what he did. And he launches into the story:

“Well, we went to the temple to do baptisms but they were cleaning the baptismal font so we did sealings instead” (oh no) “and during the sealing the guy officiating them said we were a good couple and he could marry us for real if we wanted” (oh no) “and she laughed, so I thought she liked that idea” (OH NO) “so on the way to get our food I said ‘hey, we’ve been friends for a long time, and I always have a good time with you. I love the way you make me feel, I respect you, and I think I’m ready to man up and recognize my feelings for you” (OH NO!) “[Name], will you do me the immense honor of being my girlfriend?”

¡¡¡¡¡¡OH NO!!!!!!

Like, bro, first of all, that’s how you propose, not how you ask someone with abandonment trauma out on a first date. But second of all, he torpedoed that relationship and fumbled a cutey because she laughed at an old man’s joke? And he thought “Oh, she laughed at a joke, guess she wants me, no need to pace myself or slow anything down!”

I chastised him a bit for deciding to ignore her own feelings and needs, then gave him a hug and told him to go to bed. Following that interaction they continued their friendship, but it was never really the same after that, and she moved out when her lease was up.

I have so many stories about these roommates, but if I’m being real I just told y’all the main ones – still, if I can remember any other ones I’ll be all over that. Be kind to each other, be gayer, read more Terry Pratchett, and keep your face a minimum of 6 inches away from mine if you’re gonna sing the Moana soundtrack at me.

[sophie-frm-mars]

Mental health discourse on social media is so deeply broken and it's all that one post that says there's only either Smol Bean disorder or Evil Abuser Disorder.

Like people think that "getting better" means what? Feeling better? Sometimes getting better makes you feel better, sometimes it feels fucking awful. Coming to terms with having hurt people feels like total fucking shit, realizing how much of your life could have been spent on things other than being completely fucking insane sucks shit, realizing that some of the people who hurt you were going through some stuff that you can actually relate to sucks total fucking shit.

I'm particular though, it's the idea that people don't hurt people when they're unwell that I think is poisoning the discourse. It's a reaction to the classic crazy dangerous lunatic stereotype, people are swinging entirely the other way and insisting that everyone who has ever been mentally unwell has been in a state where they couldn't possibly hurt anyone and therefore if anyone hurts someone it's something entirely unrelated to mental illness, this is how we invent and permanently reinvent Smol Bean Disorder and Evil Abuser Disorder.

Yes, statistically in a situation where someone is experiencing a serious mental health episode the person most at risk is the unwell person, but that's a nuanced statement, it isn't the same as "nobody mentally ill ever hurts anyone". But the problem with pointing all this out is that so many (well-intentioned) people just see symptoms as like a license for your behaviour. Why did you miss the thing we were gonna do? I have depression. I feel like she never listens to me! She has ADHD. Why does she get so fucked up by me not texting for a few hours? She has BPD. and so on but like no some of the experience of being unwell is sometimes acting in ways you deeply regret and will have to live with and feel shitty about kinda forever.

The whole thing is nuts because people will describe someone who they currently view as evil in terms that just sound like a super unwell person "he was obsessed with..." "She was all blank like she wasn't even present" and at the same time attribute this to an essential and unchangeable evil about that person instead of some kind of madness. It's a perfect double bind the way that we stigmatise mental illness while attributing it to something else, we're really eating our cake and having it too. My favourite example of this is "pathological liar". This gets used all the time in situations where one side of a conflict just doesn't believe the person they're talking about, I've had it happen to me even, but if it were true isn't that a person who needs psychological intervention? Someone who feels the need to compulsively lie in a way that causes harm to themselves or others or both?

And all of this is fair, also, like when someone has been hurt they need a space to absolutely hate the guts of the person that hurt them, talk utter shit, say the most offensive stuff about them that they wouldn't stand by the next day, because for many people that's a part of the healing, is detesting that person. The trouble is that we have so many ways to facilitate carceral responses to harm because carcerality is so deeply baked into our society that we really view "less harm than literally having someone killed" as abolitionist, and we're all very good at kidding ourselves that doing harm to someone we hate is justified. I get it, I've done it. I've sought punitive justice towards people who've hurt me before. I thought I was in the right. The people around me were reinforcing that idea for me and in some cases even pushing me towards it. So I get it. But I think finding abolitionist alternatives in conflict is the largest, hardest bulk of the work in mad liberation, because whenever I've seen someone very unwell I know wind up completely alone, abandoned and precarious, it has always been through a series of interpersonal conflicts where people choose one by one to leave their life because it's too hard, which in turn makes the burden harder for the next person and the next until they are completely alone.

A response and structure focused in healing after harm happens isn't natural for us raised under patriarchal punitive logic. Because it isn't natural to us it's going to take a lot of work, and it's a multi layered problem. People want to act quickly and punitively. Several pressures converge to make people seek the most extreme punitive action possible. People who have hurt people are assumed to be liars and manipulators, so they can't be believed when they apologize and they can't be listened to or trusted like a normal person. It's never really going to be possible to devise a step by step template for this kind of thing because people and conflicts are so unique and trying to reconcile a shared reality requires some amount of feeling it out.

[utilitycaster]

#this is such a good point and weirdly something I think Matt started to have a problem with in mid C2#cause while you could chalk the reduction in reaction Nott gets in Rexxentrum to him not wanting to rehash older beats#with a high level party#that’s also when Travis was fishing for a reaction to Fjord’s Wildmother worship and Matt downplayed the Empire’s religious oppression#which was weird because earlier in the story we’d seen the Schusters imprisoned for worshiping the Changebringer#it’s like he lost confidence in telling that kind of story#and that’s why any backstory hardship in C3 flops when it hits the actual campaign#because the NPCs are so bland and accommodating and non-reactive#no one has reactive biases or prejudices#it’s like every NPC interaction for BH is a therapy session of#‘see your bad past experiences won’t be repeated by everyone you meet!’#but having understanding and accepting NPCs as a default just defangs so many of the stories set up by the characters’ backstories#not just Laudna but Ashton too!#Taliesin talked extensively about the difficulty of making a punk character in Exandria#because why are they that angry at the world?#and it increasingly felt like Matt gave him nothing to work with#and even undermined the attempts he made to have shitty people in Ashton’s backstory#to the point where the more people from their past we met the more the PC just looked like an asshole#which wasn’t the intent but was down to Matt not committing to playing small minded and reactive assholes *to his players*

@luckthebard hope you don’t mind me responding to these tags but I think this ties into a lot of thoughts I’ve had about Exandria as a setting and actual play fandom both in terms of how they perceive the cast and how they perceive characters and stories about discrimination.

For what it’s worth I’m not terribly bothered by the Mighty Nein experiencing little discrimination in Rexxentrum, at least from officials, since they’re now useful to the Empire. Fjord’s scene in particular is with Ludinus, who ultimately hates the Wildmother as much as the (legal) Raven Queen anyway, plus detaining a foreign national from a allied country during wartime is probably unwise. What did strike me though is that discrimination against tieflings virtually vanished in the narrative once Molly was gone, in part because that wasn’t something Laura particularly wished to play. And it wasn’t that big a deal specifically because Jester’s backstory was not rooted in any sort of discrimination (vs. Fjord’s, or Veth’s-as-Nott); and it was already not a consistent form of discrimination anyway, ie, it seemed to mostly be concentrated among the wealthy of Zadash and in Shady Creek) but I don’t recall it ever appearing again. It’s not narratively that important, to the point that it’s one of those things I was happy to handwave until Campaign 3 showed that this was part of a larger pattern. I also think it’s noteworthy that Age of Umbra unfailingly showed Aetherweavers and Clanks being singled out - Idyl had to leave his home and experiences suspicion from Ghosthook even in Desperloch, Misty’s presence is why the party is denied access to Volkoru and she ultimately disguises herself, the family they find in the Cinnabar Quarter starved to death to protect a divinely touched child, and Brixton is treated dramatically differently when people believe her to have powers.

I think there are a few problems here and I think they come down to needing traditional session zeroes for the main campaigns, and that it might make sense to step away from Exandria - not because there aren’t still stories to be told, but because I feel Matt is unwilling to paint Exandria in an unflattering light.

A clear session zero will clarify what picking your character means. I think a lot of DMs (and certainly Matt) are reluctant to tell players “I know you are attached to this concept, but in this world, playing a goblin means you will face discrimination” (to give an example) but the fact is, some people want to tell those stories and want to play characters for whom that is important, and you have to be consistent in your worldbuilding for the sake of the story. It is not, as discussed, kinder to those players to have everyone be nice to their character, because that’s not the story they wanted to tell. This is also why I discourage the idea of being very attached to a specific character race or class until you have a game in which to play them. If you really want to play a tiefling and are in a setting where tieflings experience discrimination and you don’t want that aspect…sorry, but you need to play a different character race, or your DM needs to change the entire world, and the former is much easier and the DM needs to say “well you can’t play a tiefling who doesn’t experience discrimination.” (I also think players and certainly fans want the backstory of oppression and not the continuing consequences, ie, unless something has happened or said discrimination was highly localized to a specific place such as the twins in Syngorn, the discrimination will exist throughout the narrative. The failure to make Ruidusborn feel actually discriminated against unfairly was pretty egregious, because every Ruidusborn in the story was shown either invading people’s privacy or straight up joining a cult and murdering people, and there were no responses to them that were anything other than pretty reasonable responses to someone invading one’s privacy or trying to murder people.)

This ties into a discussion that you can see in the replies on this post - player comfort is very important! And again, that's fine and very reasonable! It's just that if you don't want NPCs to be an asshole to you because that makes you uncomfortable, then you will need to play a character for whom that makes sense. Like, I won't have fun if my character doesn't know what the fuck is going on in-world, and I won't have fun if I'm overly squishy, so I tend to play characters with decent INT and CON. It's no different than that: if you won't have fun as a player if your character experiences discrimination, you need to express that to the DM and choose to play a character who won't experience discrimination.

I also think as mentioned that at least a portion of the cast is just sort of precious about Exandria at this point, and it’s not a bad thing, but it stands in the way of them telling stories. I said as much regarding Catatheosis - it can’t actually do much of note other than make the gods slightly harder to talk to directly, which was always kind of hit or miss, because there are too many beloved characters with divine powers whom no one in the cast wants to nerf. I don’t know if the answer to Laudna should have been “okay, so, cool aesthetic, but just to be clear you’re going to have to either disguise yourself all the time or hide or accept most people are going to hate you - your charisma score is going to be entirely on the basis of intimidation and fear” or if it should have been “this doesn’t really fit in the world as I envision it, can we rework this” and the same goes for Ashton and their difficulty finding things to truly rebel against in Exandria. I don’t know if the answer should be “this is how we make it work, and it’s going to make playing the game as this character harder: are you okay with that?” or if it should be “this concept doesn’t really work in this setting as I envision it, so let's find something else you're excited to play” but it had to be one or the other and making it neither weakened both setting and character and remains, in my opinion, the biggest reason why Campaign 3 fell flat. I think about how for Candela, there was a clear decision outlined by Rowan Hall regarding Newfaire being without queerphobia, or misogyny, and I don’t mind this as a choice, and the Candela series never relied on those forms of bigotry to drive the story (and did tell some good stories about class) - but it does mean that if you want to tell a story about queerphobia, you can’t use this setting. I think the cast may want to play with concepts and themes that simply don’t fit within Exandria, particularly not an Exandria where their existing characters are still major players. As Age of Umbra shows they absolutely can pull this off, at least in short form; but they might need to go to another setting to do so. And regardless of how they address this, they definitely need to have more conversations about how their characters fit into that setting and into the narrative they want to tell.

[softguarnere]

Logistical Errors

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: Before you can make some snarky remark about how this is an error on the part of whoever planned the logistics of this mission, Tony holds up his hands in surrender, laughing again.  “Whoa, I didn’t mean anything by it,” he assures you. “I’m just doing what comes naturally to a scientist – I’m making an observation.”  A/N: Hi again! So I didn't expect anyone to read that Sue Storm x fem!reader fic I posted, but people actually seemed to enjoy it? And after a talk with my Bestie about how we didn't see many fics about Natasha on our dashes back in the day, this just sort of appeared in my drafts 😅 This is one of those "I wrote this for me, but I hope you'll enjoy it as well" scenarios 💖 Warnings: assumed homophobia and Tony thinking he's funny

“Okay. Not to be that guy, but it’s kinda hot, right?” Tony’s little snide remarks are usually so coolly delivered. But this time around, some laughter slips into his words. And not the suave, practiced laughter that he does for reporters and any public appearance he deems to be a performance – which, let’s face it, is basically every waking second of the man’s life, considering that his ego is more of a mask than the faceplate of his suit at this point – but a genuine laugh that’s bubbly like champagne and spills through the room infectiously, making some of the other Avengers chuckle as well. 

A scowl tugs at your lips as you cross your arms. From the corner of your eye, you can barely make out Natasha’s expression. But hell, you can hardly look at her through your embarrassment, worried that your face will become even more warm if you dare look her way.

From what you can see, though, Natasha is as cool and as unreadable as always. She gives nothing away. Growing up in the Red Room will teach a person how to conceal their true emotions like that. 

You didn’t have that misfortune. For you, it was just SHIELD training. Which was mostly good for learning how to keep secrets. Like the one you’re currently hoping doesn’t come out as this whole thing unravels before your very eyes. 

“Shut up, Stark,” you snap. 

Before you can make some snarky remark about how this is an error on the part of whoever planned the logistics of this mission, Tony holds up his hands in surrender, laughing again. 

“Whoa, I didn’t mean anything by it,” he assures you. “I’m just doing what comes naturally to a scientist – I’m making an observation.” 

Steve, who appears to be one of the only men in the group with the decency not to laugh, fixes Tony with a cool stare. “Tony,” he chides. “Nat and (y/n) are just sharing a bed for the sake of the mission. There’s nothing more to it than that.” 

“Why would there be more to it than that?” Thor asks with a hearty laugh.

That earns a cool look from Steve as well, but it quickly becomes obvious that Thor genuinely doesn’t seem to have any clue why everyone is laughing – he’s just going along with it because he knows something is funny and he doesn’t want to be left out. It’s another moment where it becomes obvious that being a god from another realm has left him behind in a social situation.

Unfortunately, the confusion only makes Tony laugh all the harder as he slaps the god on the shoulder good naturedly. “Well, you see buddy –”

“Nope!” Bruce interrupts. “No! Not going there! We’re not having the talk with a god.” 

“You’ve got a point,” Tony admits, though he’s smirking as he glances towards you and Natasha. “We should be giving it to the ladies.”

“Christ,” you snap, taking a step forward, ready to take a swing at the engineer. 

Before you can, though, Natasha places a hand on your shoulder and tugs you back. Keeping you away from Tony doesn’t seem to be enough for her, though, so instead of letting the argument continue, she guides you towards the bedroom that the two of you are supposed to share during the mission – the room that somehow only has one bed in it. 

Once the door is shut, Natasha fixes you with a look. It’s not hard, but it’s also not happy. It’s somewhere in between, like she’s scolding you and offering you sympathy all at once.

“He was out of line,” you say before Natasha can say anything. 

She steps away from the door slowly as she approaches you. “Stark is Stark,” she points out. “He wasn’t being homophobic, if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

Heat rushes to your cheeks, and you hope Natasha doesn’t notice. You know she will, though, because Natasha is in the business of noticing everything. 

“I just don’t want anyone to find out about us,” you admit quietly so that your voice doesn’t carry through the door or the walls separating you from the rest of the team. “I’m not ready to tell them yet. They might take one of us off the team.”

Natasha takes a seat on the bed, gently guiding you so that you’re sitting beside her. She squeezes your shoulder in a gesture of reassurance. “They won’t do that.” 

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from correcting her. Now isn’t the time for an argument. Not when this is still all so new and fun and unexplored. 

“Besides,” Natasha says, a small smirk tugging at the edges of her pretty lips. “We got what we wanted, didn’t we?” 

For a moment, you can only tilt your head at her, trying to decipher her meaning. 

“You didn’t . . .”

Natasha’s smirk only grows. “Of course I did,” she replies smoothly. “The room only having one bed wasn’t a mistake made by some poor schmuck in logistics.”

[croquettish]

Do you think Hans feels like he's unlovable? I can't help but sometimes think about how, wherever Henry goes, he always makes new friends and is liked by the general public. He had loving parents and dear friends growing up, and, although distant, Radzig clearly loves and cares about him because he is his son, and not just as a pawn he can move. Hans had no loving family, his friends were just people who followed his lead because of his status, the Rattay people see him with scorn, and he doesn't seem close to the Devil Pack members. Henry loves him, sure, but I wonder if Hans feels cold when he thinks about himself in the eyes of others. When he looks at Henry and sees how he's embraced and cherished by so many.

Anon, I literally saw this ask and immediately went "yes, yes, and yes." Out loud.

Anyway, yeah! You nailed it in one! Henry is the everyman that everyone seems to like just by default. He had two dads and a mom that cared about him. Henry seems to find it easy to establish a sort of rapport with literally everyone around him while Hans finds it incredibly difficult.

I was actually talking to @tsinavar about this just earlier today. How we see this illustrated at so many different times throughout the game Hans thrives in one-on-one environments. He seeks out privacy when he goes to spend time with Enneleyn, clearly eager to trade the party (where Henry is getting along with everyone) for individual attention. He just leaves the feast at Trosky, and only tries to talk to Henry after dealing with the official formalities of speaking to the host. Here too, he seeks out something other than the party with a lot of people (where, yet again, Henry is getting along with everyone). At Suchdol we see this yet again. Hans sits off alone by himself and only talks to Godwin. He then chalks this up to there being "hardly any females in this whole damn place." But he really only ever tries to talk to the one person he already knows and feels comfortable around (if he wanted to get lectured, no doubt Hanush would have made for an excellent candidate).

You mentioned the Devil's Pack, people that Hans ends up spending a relatively long time with. Here too he doesn't really try to reach out. They don't reach out to him, and that's that. Because even if he's not willing to admit it to himself or view it in this light, Hans is remarkably shy. It's an unbecoming quality for a noble, and he tries to cover it up with false bravado and ego at all turns, but no, he really is genuinely quite shy. Henry was able to overcome this by literally being forced on Hans, and then the mortal peril brought them yet closer together. You could also argue that Hans decided to make the best of a bad situation, but this sort of thing is unlikely to happen with anyone else he encounters.

So he's just left to watch as Henry finds friends left and right. There's no doubt in my mind that that hurts a good bit, not just because he wishes that was him (I don't think he necessarily does tbh), but because that means Henry's attention is split.

And yet, Henry can reassure him in the romance on this very point:

Hans is the closest friend Henry has. If he has nothing and no one else, he at least has that.

[baguettenjoyer]

Matchmaker Caine

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: Funny…Mending

Summary:

In aftermath, broken bonds begin to mend as the cast slowly rebuilds trust—one conversation, one apology, and one act of love at a time.

———————————————————————————

It was always quiet when Caine found Zooble.

A kind of hush the digital circus rarely offered, the kind that asked to be left undisturbed. Zooble was sitting outside on the lawn again, flicking pebbles into the distance. They weren’t hiding. But they weren’t exactly available either.

Caine hovered for a moment, unsure how to start. He’d never been unsure before. That was the whole point of being the ringleader.

“…Zooble?” he asked eventually, his tone light and uncharacteristically gentle. “Is it… okay if I talk to you? About, uh…what happened?”

Zooble blinked at the low volume. The answer didn’t come right away, which was answer enough. Still, they didn’t tell him to leave, so he floated closer and lowered himself to their level, legs crossed, arms resting on invisible air.

“I just—” Caine started, then stopped. “You’re smart,” he said finally, with real weight behind it. “Like. Actually smart. Observant. You don’t pretend to understand things you don’t. I think you could help me out.”

Zooble gave a wry little scoff. “Since when do you need help understanding things?”

“…Since now, I guess,” he admitted. “I don’t get how relationships work. Not really. I thought Jax and Pomni were happy. They looked happy. Like my dolls. I thought it was going well, but then—poof. Everyone got upset.”

He paused. Zooble continued to flick pebbles.

“I don’t understand how something that felt good could just… end like that. No big battle. No final act. Just a snap. And then it’s broken.”

Zooble sat still for a while, rubbing their thumb over their duck leg knee.

“It’s not always about the big crash,” they finally said. “Sometimes things break because they were too tense for too long. Or because someone’s afraid. Or because they don’t think they deserve what they have.”

Caine looked genuinely confused. “But if it was good… shouldn’t it stay?”

Zooble glanced at him. There was something sharp in their expression, but tired too. “No one can keep their guard down forever. Sometimes love means being seen when you’re weakest. That’s not easy.”

They hesitated.

“And sometimes…people give up before it can get that far. Even if it hurts to do it.”

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

“I didn’t think it would end like that,” Caine said.

Zooble didn’t look at him. Unlike Caine or anyone else, they suspected it would happen. After all, they didn’t warn Jax about the dolls the night before it all went down.

“I didn’t either,” they lied.

“…So what should happen now?” he asked.

Zooble sighed, long and slow. “Now you give people space when they need it. Even if you don’t understand it. And maybe you try being someone worth trusting again.”

Caine nodded, hands on his knees. Then:

“THANK YOU FOR YOUR WISDOM, DEAR FRIEND!” he bursted, like he had gone deaf all of the sudden. He floated high up, smiling down at Zooble.

Zooble flinched at the volume. Caine popped away before they replied: “Sure thing, man.”

——

They found him alone in his room, door slightly ajar. Jax was slumped against his bed on the floor, scribbling something on paper. He didn’t look up when Zooble approached, but his ears twitched at the sound of their footsteps. The duck leg’s cartoonish squeaking always gave them away early.

Zooble stood a few feet away, arms crossed. Not confrontational—just guarded. It was how they both usually operated.

Jax finally glanced up. His face was tired. Hollow-eyed, like he’d been emptied out and hadn’t decided what to refill himself with yet.

“I know you know,” Zooble said quietly.

Jax blinked.

“About the dolls. Caine’s dolls,” they clarified. “I figured you saw them the other day.”

Jax’s mouth curled a little, humorless. “Right.”

Zooble inhaled, eyes closed. “I should’ve told you. Back when it mattered. Before you had the chance to jump to any conclusions. The truth is, I was there. With Caine. He told me he was playing dollhouse. Caine trusts me more than anyone else, so I’m telling you now…he reassured me it was completely harmless with no effect on either of you.”

Jax stood, slowly. Not defensive, not angry—just upright. Processing.

“No tricks or sick intentions. To be honest, Caine’s mind-control abilities are limited. He said…that our feelings were out of his control. That also explains why he reacted the way he did.”

“Why are you telling me this?” he asked, tone unreadable. “You said you didn’t care.”

Zooble looked away. “Because I—because I feel responsible. You guys were so happy back when we were camping. And it didn’t feel half bad—everyone having a good time without your old antics. It’s been a long time since.”

Silence stretched. Jax’s expression was unreadable.

“I’m sorry,” Zooble said slowly. “I hope the damage can be reversed.”

Jax blinked again, slower this time. He looked at them like he was seeing someone else entirely. Maybe for the first time.

“…You’re apologizing to me?” he asked, almost dazed. “You?”

Zooble shrugged. “Guess the world’s ending.”

Jax let out a dry exhale of air that wasn’t quite a laugh. He looked down at the ground, then back at them. Considered something quietly.

“…Thanks,” he said, eventually. “That means something.”

Another beat.

“Don’t make it weird,” Zooble muttered, sticking out their crab hand. They quickly switched to their normal hand.

Jax snorted—actually snorted—and shook it. He didn’t pull their arm off or twist anything.

And for a second, neither of them were the person the other used to resent.

Just two former disasters trying not to ruin things again.

——

Pomni picked him from his room and led him out the hall to the common room. It was time.

She held his hand gently the whole way. Not as a gesture of affection—not entirely. More like a tether. Something to remind him he wasn’t alone, even if he kept thinking he deserved to be.

Heads turned. Gangle looked up from her corner with wide, uncertain eyes. Kinger paused mid-sentence in a story Bubble clearly wasn’t following. Ragatha, arms folded, gave them a long, unreadable look. Her eyes widened slightly at Pomni, whom she hadn’t seen in days.

One of Caine’s eyeballs hovered to the scene.

“Hey,” Jax said. His voice cracked halfway through. He cleared it, looking down, then up again. “Uh. I just wanted to say…”

Pomni gave his hand the smallest squeeze.

“I’m sorry,” Jax said. “For all of it. The mess. The way I acted. I wasn’t thinking straight and… I didn’t mean to make it worse for any of you.”

There was a pause.

“He wasn’t doing okay,” Pomni added, stepping forward. “But he’s getting better. We both are.” She offered the room a small smile.

Gangle stopped fidgeting. Kinger’s eyes blinked one after the other.

Ragatha’s arms didn’t uncross. But her eyes narrowed—not in anger, just scrutiny.

The silence ended when Caine popped into the room.

“WELL! WHAT A HEARTWARMING TWIST! LOOKS LIKE THE POWER OF LOVE AND GROWTH SAVES THE DAY YET AGAIN!” He looped mid-air, grinning hard. “IN THAT CASE, GET READY—MY LOVELY GANG OF GROCIERIES—ADVENTURES WILL RESUME SOON!”

Someone groaned, but silence fell immediately after Caine left.

Jax glanced toward Kinger—who simply gave him a quiet nod and a thoughtful eye smile—and then toward Gangle, who flinched and looked away.

That one hurt.

He didn’t show it. Not yet.

Pomni leaned a little closer, her voice low.

“You did good,” she said.

Jax didn’t answer, but he didn’t let go of her hand either.

——

The knock came just once.

Pomni had ignored it before. The past few days, Ragatha had knocked three separate times. Always soft, always patient, always unanswered. Pomni couldn’t face her—not when everything was falling apart, not when her heart was a raw nerve and the words wouldn’t come out right.

But tonight, she stood up.

She opened the door.

Ragatha looked surprised to be let in. Quietly relieved.

“Hey,” she said, hesitating in the doorway.

“Come in,” Pomni said, voice gentler than usual.

The origami bunny sat alone neatly on a shelf. The paper worn out from too much holding.

Ragatha stepped inside, looking down at her feet. “I wasn’t sure if you’d answer.”

Pomni shut the door. “I wasn’t ready before.”

There was a beat of silence between them. Heavy, but not tense.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Ragatha said quickly. “I just—I needed to know that you’re okay. I care about you, Pomni. I’ve seen people…fall apart in here. And I know what it looks like when someone’s faking they’re fine.”

“I’m not faking,” Pomni said. Then, quieter, “Not anymore.”

She crossed the room, stood in front of Ragatha, and reached for her hand. It surprised her when Ragatha didn’t pull away.

“I was a wreck when it ended,” Pomni admitted. “I didn’t want to be around anyone. Especially you. I thought you’d say I told you so. That I should’ve known better.”

“I wouldn’t have said that,” Ragatha murmured. “I was angry. But I was mostly scared for you.”

“I know,” Pomni said. “And I’m really glad you cared. But I’m not scared anymore. I’m…choosing this. Him. Not because I’m naïve or desperate or trying to prove anything.”

She held her chin up.

“Because I’ve seen who he is when no one’s watching. And I think you have too. I get why you backed off. But he’s not the same anymore.”

Ragatha swallowed. “You really think so?”

“I do. He’s trying. Not because I asked him to, but because he hates what he did. He apologized so many times, Ragatha. Not for show. Like it hurt him to hurt me. He’s changing. And it’s not just helping me—it’s helping all of us. The tension’s different now. Lighter. Even Zooble’s doing a little better.”

That pulled a breathy little laugh from Ragatha, even if she still looked unsure.

Pomni gave her hand a squeeze. “I’m not some broken damsel, okay? I’m strong enough to handle Jax. And if I’m wrong, I’ll deal with it. But for now…I want to give him a chance. And I want my friend to believe in me.”

That was what cracked it.

Ragatha’s eyes welled with something that looked dangerously like emotion, and she gave Pomni’s hand a firmer squeeze in return.

“I just didn’t want to see you hurt, Pomni,” she whispered.

“You and me both,” Pomni said, smiling now. “Thanks for looking out for me, Ragatha.”

Pomni leaned forward and hugged her. Ragatha’s arms quickly wrapped around her, savoring this moment. This moment of mutual understanding.

And it healed something between them. Quietly and completely.

——

Gangle rarely left her room these past few days, not unless there was an adventure or a meal. Even then, she usually waited until the others passed. It was easier that way—less flinching, less staring. Less chance she’d have to look him in the eye.

Jax.

She didn’t blame him. Not really. She couldn’t. Not when she’d watched him unravel like that.

But still, she flinched when he looked at her. She didn’t mean to.

So when he knocked on her door, gently, and mumbled, “Hey, it’s me,” she froze.

Another soft knock. Then silence.

She gave herself a moment of consideration. If he had any ill intentions, he would’ve unlocked her door without consent. Like in the past.

Gangle opened the door halfway.

Jax stood there, alone, hands shoved behind his back. No smug grin. No usual bounce in his step. Just… awkwardness. Something heavy hanging over him.

“I, uh…” He scratched his ear. “Was hoping we could talk. If that’s okay.”

She nodded, opened the door wider. He stepped in like the room might explode if he moved too fast.

“I brought something,” he said, pulling a folded paper from behind his back. “You don’t have to like it or anything. I just…thought you should have it.”

Gangle took it with both hands. The paper was thick, slightly crumpled from being held too tightly. She unfolded it carefully.

A pencil drawing.

It was her and Jax, sitting side by side. Both smiling—not fake, not exaggerated. Just sitting in silence, without a background. It was messy and a little ugly, but it looked like he tried.

She stared at it.

“I’m not good at talking,” Jax said, arms still crossed. “You already know that. But you were one of the only people who treated me like I was…worth something. Even when I didn’t deserve it.”

Gangle didn’t speak. She looked at the drawing again, then at him.

“And I hurt you anyway,” he added, quieter now. “Back then, and again after the breakup. I saw how you looked at me. Like I was gonna snap again. I don’t blame you. But I hated it and…I’m sorry, Gangle.”

He took a deep breath.

“I don’t want to lose the few friends I have left. Especially not you.”

Gangle blinked hard. Her ribbons trembled.

Slowly, she clutched the drawing to her chest.

“I knew you changed,” she said, barely above a whisper.

Jax looked up at her.

“Back then, I hoped you could. Now I know you did.”

And then, without hesitating, she stepped forward and wrapped her ribbons around him.

He flinched at first—like he wasn’t at all expecting this to end with a hug. But then he let his arms fall to her back, just resting there. Careful. Light.

It was the kind of quiet moment most people would overlook. No audience. No punchline.

But for them, it meant everything.

———————————————————————————

Back from my hiatus! Yay!

More about this fanfic:

Jax/Pomni (platonic), Jax/Pomni (romantic), Ragatha/Pomni (one-sided crush), Ragatha/Pomni (platonic), Caine/Zooble (platonic), Caine/Moon (romantic), Jax/Kinger (son-father relationship), Gangle/Jax (platonic), Kinger/Queenie (romantic), fake dating trope, jealous Ragatha, protective Jax, soft Jax, Jax is bad at feelings, slow burn, wholesome, fluff, light angst, digital death, panic attack, Jax has a phobia of corn, intoxication, good vibes, character development

Matchmaker Caine Masterpost

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Read Matchmaker Caine Chapter 18 (Ao3)

[goodolddumbbanana]

Ya know, I only said Sun secret is he straining magic and his reaction would be nonchalant like a joke but it actually happened.

I'm crying.

My babygirl is so Dark Sun right now. Bro really holds his stand and doesn't let any of Moon's words affect him.

"... Is that how you treated Nexus?! Then I get why Nexus goes evil!!!"

Moon, pal, you truly can go lower than I expected my man. Like, even your bestie, couldn't take your side and just stay silent...!!

Like has Sun ever pulled A Jonathan card when he was mad at you? Has he ever lashed on you or is doing something that makes you upset???

Who gives you the right to do that with Sun???

Like even in Moon pov, it is still so wrong.

He is mad at Sun because Sun hides things from him out of pettiness but It is totally okay for him because well... He wants to ...have a small secret himself (his words not mine)???

He is so consistently stubborn about his opinion but he isn't even aware how hypocritical he is when he says these lines.

"... Since when I am back, I have been trying so badly to be good.."

So what? It for your own good, man???? You treated Sun like crap, and your brother still forgives you every time. But now when he is not, you are mad????

It's your promise Moon. And you are still talking like everyone wrong you. Like Sun has made an awful crime for doing this to you because he is petty.

If I was Sun, I would punch Moon for saying the Nexus line. Like how dare him?

How many times he said it, talking bad about Nexus, and never once does Sun say anything bad back?

Sideline: Moon still making it about himself but Sun has stood up and doesn't care about Moon opinions anymore so I guess it's better than I thought lol

[texassmashmyass]

One More Drink | Designated Driver!Clark Kent Headcannons

Note: I’ve been talking abt this with @banesbottombitch and couldn’t wait to write about Clark being the perfect DD 🖤

Friday night: It starts at a friend’s house party. You’re already tipsy, shoes off, curled into Clark’s side, sipping on the strong drink you made to cope with the long week you’ve had. Clark’s been nursing the same drink all evening, only taking polite sips now and then, telling you he doesn’t drink often.

When the party starts winding down, Clark gently suggests it’s time to go home. But you’re having none of it. You feel good- great, actually, and nothing, not even Clark Kent, is going to stop your fun. Tugging at his sleeve, you slur a threat into his ear that if he doesn’t take you to the bar, you’ll just have to go by yourself. Clark sighs, still holding you close. “Alright. Just one more drink.”

Your excitement at seeing him give in leaves your head buzzing. He guides you to his car, double-checks your seatbelt twice, and drives you to the bar.

The second you step inside, you come alive. It’s like you’ve been revived- you order a giant fishbowl drink immediately. Clark just shakes his head, a fond smile on his face as he watches you wander off, befriending everyone in sight.

You introduce everyone to your boyfriend Clark, bragging about how amazing he is while Clark’s cheeks burn pink under the praise. He scratches the back of his neck, shy but secretly loving every word.

When you nearly knock over your glass trying to spin on your barstool, Clark’s hand shoots out with uncanny speed to catch it before it spills. You giggle, poking his chest and slurring something about his super reflexes. Clark tries not to laugh too hard.

He keeps an eye on you as your new friends order a round of shots. Clark politely declines his, but you snatch it up for yourself.

By now, you’re far too gone to stay upright for long. Clark gently coaxes you into a booth in the corner, sitting on the outside so you can lean against the wall or against his broad chest instead of falling onto the sticky bar floor.

You demand more shots, so Clark obliges- only, they’re just water. You can’t tell the difference, and toss them back with dramatic flair, bragging about how you could outdrink anyone. Clark hums in agreement, brushing your hair from your face when you slump against him.

When last call comes around, Clark helps you into your coat, carries your purse, and wraps his arm around your shoulders to steady you. You giggle into his chest the whole walk to the car, tripping over your own feet.

When you stumble too much, Clark simply picks you up and carries you on his back to his car. You laugh the whole way, whispering dirty nothings into his ear. He’s just glad you can’t see how red his face gets.

Back at your place, you suddenly decide you’re not tired. You pout when he tries to tuck you into bed, so he sighs and settles you on the couch instead, wrapping a blanket snugly around your shoulders.

You watch him sleepily from the couch, half-lidded eyes following him as he moves around the kitchen. He makes you a grilled cheese: greasy, full of carbs, and perfect for a drunk girl trying to stave off tomorrow’s hangover.

He sits next to you while you eat, brushing crumbs from your lips and listening to your rambling about how perfect he is. He just smiles, kisses your forehead, and reminds you to drink more water.

When you finally drift off, head in his lap, he runs his fingers through your hair and whispers soft promises that he’ll take care of you tomorrow morning, hangover or not, and how much he loves you.

[kumasakka]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ❝ 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐁𝐔𝐋𝐄 ! ❞

　you are his hiding one and only place or sweet headcanon’s about your relationship before dating and during dating !

featuring. itoshi rin !

content. 0.7k wc , latibule (n.) a hiding place; a place of safety and comfort , fluff fluff fluff , slight crack , rin may be ooc , pre & while dating headcanons , safe for minors , spoiler free , crappy writing , this was a request.

author’s note. a quick and easy request >< next time, please read through the bio, anon! I clearly stated that i’m currently only writing for sakamoto days and gachiakuta but since this was quick one, I still decided to write your request. please enjoy to the fullest <3

PRE DATING.

how to start even? oh boy you're in for a lot as soon as he is aware of his feelings. and to be honest it will take a quite while for him to realise his own feelings because rin is a little dense when you're talking about feelings.

what I can imagine is — how he drops subtle hints to show his feelings so you can come to the idea by yourself.

it would be something simple like sharing his things (like pens, notes, books etc.) with you and that without hesitation. also something like buying a drink from the vending machine and then also buying your favourite drink because he "put in too much coins."

god, he's actually so sweet with his actions that everyone is already aware of his little crush about you. never has he ever shown so much interest in something or someone besides from soccer which is actually kind of crazy.

but unfortunately everyone notices but you. you just think of his actions to be kind and sweet, something a best friend would do. and yes you two somehow are close enough to be best friends — not going to lie, I cannot imagine rin falling in love with someone who isn't close to best friends.

that also leads to much trust. rin puts a lot of faith into you, another sign of his crush. how can you not notice it already? are his actions too subtle? should he be more open?

he's the type to overthink a little bit.

but he also isn't very patient, already annoyed by your dense brain (it's not your fault, he's just not obvious with his hints). that's why he decides to confess on a random day of school while sitting next to you in english class.

"I like you. Are you dense?" something like that or also,

"Ilikeyou."

"Sorry, I didn't follow. What did you say?"

"Oh god." sighs out in annoyance, "Ilikeyou."

WHILE DATING.

while dating? oh boy, it's so awkward between the two of you — unless you're the social type of girlfriend. someone who doesn't shy away from opening up a one-sided conversation.

but on the other hand, you may have been friends before or even best friends yet it will be awkward (for him) since he doesn't know how to act. you're most likely his first girlfriend and he does not know what he should do to be a good boyfriend.

not even the videos he watched helped him but that's fine, you're here with him. you either go in together without having prior experience and learn together. or you are already experienced and guide him through the relationship.

it doesn't take long until you've grown a lot closer which leads to a lot of dates like you watching his matches, going out after club, various activities during picnics like soccer or sports in general and also playing horror games together.

rin is the type to not show much affection or interest yet he tries and you can always see his effort.

something like — sweet messages as soon as you wake up, running up to you whenever he sees you walking at the front, bringing you drinks during the short drinks, walk you home despite living in different directions.

lots and lots of study dates because he needs help in most of the subjects. after all, he has to pass all the exams or he can't play soccer in the club anymore.

sometimes he dozes off and sleeps soundly, showing his rather vulnerable side — if you're in public he would lean against you, either placing his head over your head or your shoulder, depending your height.

oh god the day you meet his parents? you're hella nervous but he reassures you quietly by holding your hand the whole time and confirms you're the one for him. his parents are quite pleased with you being his girlfriend!

the day he meets your parents? also nervous but not as nervous as you of course. he plays it off coolly, well he tries to play it off but it's not easy when your parents are kind of different than his. yet he tells them straight something like, "I want to marry her."

all in all? pretty cute, 7/10 because he doesn't have a lot of time (playing soccer 24/7). still, he tries to make up for that!

© 2024 kumasakka — do not plagiarize , copy , modify , translate our work !