#or who needs to feel in control/let it all go and relax

[coldfanbou]

Meeting Your Idol

Eunha day! Today, we get a little help from our girlfriend Wonyoung and meet our favorite idol. Turns out they had a slightly different plan for you. Who would've known Wonyoung likes watching?

Length 2.3K

Eunha X Mreader with cuck Wonyoung

“Don’t touch it,” Wonyoung said, her hands gently pushing you forward. 

“Can you at least tell me what this is about?” 

“I told you I had a gift for you.”

“I don’t even know where I am anymore.”

“And you don’t need to.” She replied, her hand continuing to push you forward, and occasionally, you were provided a direction to turn. With the blindfold on, you were a little more than hesitant with every step. 

“You know, you didn’t need to do anything for me.” You call out. It was partly true; having Wonyong as your girlfriend was already great on its own. You knew any present she got you would have a lot of thought put into it. 

“I know, but things just lined up for me to get you the best gift. Now be quiet, we’re almost there,” she said, her hand shifting from your back to your hand. Wonyoung moved from pushing you along to leading you. 

“Hey, hold on,” you call out, getting into a slight jog as she rushes forward. 

“Almost there,” Wonyoung said with a slight giggle. Wonyoung places her hand on your chest, slowing you down. She pats your chest as a signal. “Don’t take it off yet,” she whispers. Wonyoung knocks on a door, three distinct hits coming along before silence. Wonyoung knocks again, one, two, and you hear the sound of the door opening before you feel Wonyoung tug on your arms, bringing you into what should be a room. At this point, you couldn’t be sure; you still didn’t know where you were. “Alright, here we are. Now I’m going to leave you here for a little bit. I want you to enjoy everything here, and I mean everything.” The emphasis she added to everything had you tilting your head. 

“What do you mean?” You ask, turning toward the direction her voice had come from. There’s no response, though, and the sound of the doors closing tells you something's not quite right. You grab the blindfold and take it off. Turning around, you see the closed door. “Wonyoung?” You call out, looking around the room until your eyes spot a young woman. Not just any young woman, though, it was your favorite idol. Was it a little blasphemous to think that when you had Wonyoung as a girlfriend? Maybe. Either way, you couldn’t control yourself. You were stunned, your cheeks rose into a smile you couldn’t wipe off your face. Your favorite idol, Eunha, was right in front of you. She gave you a small wave, her signature smile on her face. “E-eunha,” you manage to get out. It was all you could say; you were starstruck, feet glued to the ground.

“Hi,” Eunha says, her sweet and cheerful voice ringing in your ears. Seeing that you still couldn’t move from your spot, Eunha stands up. She walks over to you, her soft hand grabbing yours. Your hands got clammy quickly, but it didn’t seem to bother Eunha. She calmly led you to the couch where she was sitting.  Eunha sits first, then pats the seat next to her with her free hand.

“Wonyoung tells me you're a big fan.”

“I-uhm, yes.” You reply, stumbling over yourself to get a single word out. Eunha giggles. She thought it was cute that you would be so nervous meeting her. It made the next part all the easier. As soon as you sat next to her, she leaned her face inches from yours. You babbled, unable to think of a single thing to say, and having the beauty's face so close to yours made you oblivious to her actions. 

Eunha had slipped her hand along your pants, fishing out your cock. It’s only when she glances down that you realize.

“E-eunha,” you moan, feeling her soft hand move across your shaft. 

“Shh, let me get you ready,” she whispers, her plump lips pressing against your neck. “I just need you to relax.” Her hand tightens around your cock as she straddles you. Eunha wraps both hands around your shaft, tugging at it gently. She kisses your neck again, her lips lingering on your skin. “Don’t worry about Wonyoung either. She’s enjoying this too.”  You wonder what she means, but with a flick of her eyes, it clicks. Your eyes shift to your left, where Eunha looked briefly, and a large mirror ran across the wall. Eunha must’ve meant that Wonyoung was watching from the other side of the wall. Knowing that your girlfriend was watching you get it on with someone else was erotic. It made you feel better, stronger in a way. 

You relaxed a little, letting Eunha work her magic. You’d never get this chance again. 

Eunha moves her hands along your shaft, moving them together as she leans in for a kiss. You feel electricity shoot through your body. You were kissing Eunha; you felt the young woman’s tongue trace your lips. It slowly pushed past your own and began exploring your mouth. Eunha’s hand kept a steady pace, even as precum dribbled out and began coating her hands. 

Your moans intensified as she changed her tactics. Eunha was solely moving her hands to the base of your cock now, when one reached the bottom, she’d let go and move that hand back to the top. You moaned in the kiss, Eunha in complete control of your body. “You’re already throbbing,” Eunha tells you. “Where do you want to cum. On my pretty hands? Or on my face? Or maybe you want me to drink it all?” You cock twitched at every option, but Eunha could feel the last one go on just that little bit longer. “Naughty boy, you want your favorite idol to swallow all that nasty cum of yours,” Eunha teased, a slight pout on her face. 

The pout doesn’t last long as she breaks into a smile and climbs off your lap. Eunha keeps one hand on your cock, stroking it while she rests the tip on her tongue. She teases you, moving it from side to side but never sucking on it. Your body tenses as you near your climax. “Cum whenever you want. I’m ready.” She says, moving her hair behind her ear. You can’t handle it any longer. Staring at Eunha pretty face as your cock sat on her tongue pushed you over the edge. You spurt ropes of semen on her tongue, slowly filling her mouth as more shoots out. When you’re done, Eunha’s mouth looks like a small pool. A pool that quickly drains as she shuts her mouth and tilts her head back, drinking your cum.

From behind the glass Wonyoung watches as the older woman drinks your cum. She was already naked, playing with herself as she watched the lewd act before her, whimpering because the pleasure was already wrecking her body. Wonyoung grabbed at her breasts, moaning in the otherwise quiet room as she drove the dildo inside her deeper. She had never imagined she would get the chance to watch her partner fuck another woman, so having that opportunity now she was making the most of it. She grabbed another dildo from the table beside her and began sucking on the tip, her focus shifting from one dildo to the other. 

“All gone,” Eunha says with pride as she opens her mouth. “Now it’s time for the real show.” Eunha rises to her feet, reaching to the side to undo her skirt. You watch it fall to the ground, your eyes slowly drifting back up Eunha’s legs, noticing the curves she has until your eyes stop at her panties. A simple black pair of panties greeted you, with a small wet spot in the middle. A second later, your sight was blocked. Eunha had thrown her shirt at you. “Don’t just stare,” she teases you. You grab the shirt she had thrown at you and put it to the side, your eyes move on from her panties. Eunha wasn’t wearing a bra. Her pale perky tits were out for you to see your eyes became glued to her rosy nipples. Eunha raised her arm, bringing it under her chest. It held up her perky breasts.

Seeing the way you stared at Eunha made Wonyoung’s body feel like it was on fire. She whined as she pushed the dildo deeper into her slit, she was so close and you guys hadn’t even started yet. Wonyoung bit her lip and tried to slow her hand, she didn’t want to cum so soon, even if the temptation was gnawing at her. 

You gulped, struggling to think of anything. “Well?” Eunha asked, bending over. You looked at the small valley between her hanging breasts. “What do you think?”

“Amazing,” you said in a hushed tone. Eunha giggles at your answer. She reaches forward, grabbing the waist of your pants and pulling them down.

“I’m not going to be the only one naked here. Hurry up.” You rush to get your clothes off, not caring where they landed. Soon, you and she were naked, well, almost naked. Eunha kept her panties on; you hadn’t even noticed they were still on until she brought your attention to them.  “I’ll let you do the honors,” Eunha said, her voice laced with a joking sort of pride. 

You lean forward, grabbing at the waistband of her panties. You glance at the young woman’s eyes before moving your gaze back to her panties. You begin to pull them down slowly, revealing Eunha’s neatly trimmed landing strip as you continue to remove them. Once you got past her hips, you dropped them, letting them fall to the ground. Now that you were both completely naked, Eunha pushed you, making you rest against the couch as she straddled you again. 

Your favorite idol grabbed your hands, bringing them to her soft mounds. Eunha cooed as she felt your hands immediately squeeze her breasts. You were too engrossed in their softness to notice Eunha had grabbed your cock. The young woman was rubbing it between her wet folds. You only noticed something when Eunha began to lower herself onto you. The warmth of her slick walls enveloped you as she took every inch. Your hands shake as Eunha’s walls squeeze you. She was working her muscles tightly around your cock. 

Wonyoung from her room mimicked Eunha’s moves, pushing the toy inside her, its silicone balls slapping against her skin. It made Wonyoung tremble. She bit her lip again nearly cumming. She watched Eunha's movements intently, ready to mimic them for her pleasure.

Seeing you struggle with the pleasure coursing through your body, Eunha giggled. The idol began to move, raising her body before slamming herself down. Her body jiggled when she crashed down. It sent a shock through your system, but Eunha continued raising herself again before dropping down.  You shudder, moaning Eunha’s name as she rides your cock. She coats your cock with her nectar, making it easier for her to slide up and down your shaft. Eunha caresses your cheek as she bounces on your cock, “Does it feel good?”

“Good,” you mumble out. Eunha laughs and brings your hands to her waist, dragging them along her smooth and soft body to their destination. You lean forward, attaching yourself to her breast, running your tongue along her rosy areola before flicking her nipple. Eunha coos and wraps her hands around your head, pulling you in close.

“Aw, you’re just a bit of a baby, aren’t you?” She teased. You hug Eunha, moaning into her chest as she continues to ride you, her ass pressing against your legs as she tries to get every inch inside her hungry cunt. “You can cum whenever you like,” Eunha adds. 

Wonyoung had had enough; she had edged herself for long enough, and after seeing you and Eunha getting close, she needed more. She pulled the dildo from her cunt and moved as quickly as she could to your room, her fingers rubbing her slit, keeping her on the edge of cumming.

You feel Eunha press against you harder for a moment, “Cum inside her.” The voice wasn’t Eunha’s, it was Wonyoung’s. You drag your head away from Eunha’s chest and see your girlfriend behind your idol. “You heard me. Cum inside her, she wants it. Isn’t that right, Eunha?”

Eunha nods, her walls constricting around you. You struggle to hold on, your girlfriend was telling you to cum inside another woman. You couldn’t handle it. You grip Eunha tightly, your cock throbbing wildly. She slams herself down onto you, making you cum. It all pours inside her. Eunha moans loudly, along with Wonyoung. 

It’s now you notice that Wonyoung was naked too, her fingers vigorously rubbing her clit. Wonyoung sits beside you, turning your head and kissing you. “It was so hot watching you two. I wish you could’ve seen the way Eunha’s ass shook when she dropped on you,” Wonyoung says, grabbing a handful of the older woman’s ass. “Did you like your gift?”

“I liked it a lot,” you say, trying to catch your breath. 

“And you, Eunha?”

“It was pretty good,” Eunha says, rocking her hips back and forth, your cock still inside her. “It feels so nice to be filled like this. Thanks for setting this up, Wonyoung.”

“I’m just glad it all worked out perfectly. We all got something out of it.” 

“I didn’t know you liked watching,” you reply.

“Oh, Wonyoung loves watching,” Eunha chirps. “She’s always touching herself whenever the girls have fun after a show. I didn’t know she would be a cuckqueen, though; she’s kinkier than I thought.” Eunha runs her hand down Wonyoung’s arm, “Maybe, next time we’ll tie her up and make her a real cuck,” she giggled. Your cock twitch at the idea of your girlfriend being tied up and watching you. “Oh, I think he likes it.” 

“I like it, too,” Wonyoung adds, biting her fingernail. The idea turns her on, “Why don’t we plan it now, then?” The temptation of such a good time overtakes her, and Wonyoung commits to the idea for a future time. 

[dragoneyelashart]

private viewing

smut ୨ৎ warnings: g!p billie, daddy kink, breeding kink, cheating wc: 2.7k

the house was nearly silent, save for the slow, measured sound of your heels clicking against polished hardwood. sunlight spilled in through the tall windows, painting long, lazy rectangles of gold across the floor. dust hung in the air like a held breath. it was beautiful, elegant without trying, modern without losing its warmth. it felt lived in, but untouched. waiting.

you ran your fingers lightly over the smooth marble countertop in the kitchen, admiring the details your husband had only skimmed over. he was the one who wanted this house  talked about the space, the layout, the investment, but now, he was conveniently absent, letting you meet the agent alone to “finalize the paperwork.”

that agent being billie.

you’d met her once before, briefly — polite, professional, perfectly collected. but today? something was different. her blazer was off. the top buttons of her shirt were undone. her posture was just a bit more relaxed, her voice lower, eyes lingering too long when she thought you weren’t looking. she showed you the master bedroom last, almost like she knew that was where everything would end.

“so,” billie said, standing near the large bay window in the bedroom, arms crossed casually. “what do you think?”

you turned slowly, letting your gaze travel from the ceiling to the walls to her. “it’s... gorgeous,” you said, stepping closer. “quiet. private. sturdy.” you tilted your head, smirking slightly. “important qualities.”

billie’s eyes flicked to your mouth for a beat too long. “we like to make sure our clients feel secure. like they’re building something that lasts.”

you raised a brow, taking another step toward her, deliberately slow. “secure, huh? that what you want for me?”

a flicker of something passed across her face, not quite surprise, not quite guilt. desire, maybe. she didn’t answer right away. she didn’t need to.

you reached past her to run your hand along the windowsill, brushing her arm in the process. “this would be the view from my bed,” you murmured. “waking up here every morning, wrapped up in someone warm…”

billie let out the softest breath, not a word, but something just as telling. you smiled to yourself.

the tension was a slow build, not a fire, but a low, steady burn. every time she looked at you, her eyes betrayed her composure. she kept trying to stay professional, but you watched it crack, inch by inch.

you circled her like a predator playing with its prey, brushing your fingers against the soft cotton of her shirt, pausing behind her to whisper in her ear, “bet the bed creaks, doesn’t it?”

billie swallowed hard, her jaw tightening.

you turned back to the bed and let yourself fall onto it with a graceful flop, legs crossed at the ankle. “you mind?” you asked, knowing full well she didn’t.

she shook her head once, barely.

“this would be the room,” you said absently, toying with the edge of the throw blanket. “where i’d spend my nights. my mornings. maybe make a few life-changing decisions…”

you trailed off. then looked at her.

she was already looking at you.

you patted the bed beside you. “come here.”

billie hesitated for a breath — not from reluctance, but the sheer weight of anticipation — then obeyed. she sat at the foot of the bed, hands in her lap, trying to act like she was still in control of something.

you leaned forward slightly, your voice dropping to a whisper. “are you nervous, billie?”

“no,” she said too quickly.

you grinned. your hand found her thigh, and that was all it took for the dam to break. her posture crumbled, her breath caught. she turned to you like she couldn’t help it, like gravity was pulling her in.

you didn’t kiss her. not yet. you just leaned close, lips brushing the shell of her ear. “if you want this sale to go through… you’re gonna have to show me this house is worth it.”

“a-again?” she stammered out, her voice cracking in that desperate way you’d come to savor. you nod quietly sinking to your knees. you swear you can hear the thoughts racing through billie’s mind as you unbutton her baggy pants. something straining against her boxer material, bringing a smirk to your face. 

the bedroom was drenched in warm, late-afternoon sunlight that filtered in through gauzy white curtains, casting golden ribbons across the hardwood floor. dust particles danced lazily in the quiet air, the stillness of the empty house broken only by the soft creak of the bedframe and the occasional, breathy whimper echoing off bare walls. the place was pristine, too pristine, like it was waiting for something to stain it, claim it.

billie sat at the foot of what could soon be your shared bed, legs parted slightly, knuckles white where they gripped the edge of the mattress. her usually sharp demeanor was softened, melted down to something pliant, almost fragile. sweat clung to her temple, slicking dark strands of hair to her flushed skin. she looked up at you with glassy eyes, pupils wide, lips parted and trembling.

you smiled slowly, fingers tightening around the base of her cock, which twitched under your touch. “well,” you breathed, tone low and syrupy as honey, “if you're gonna sell this house to my husband and i... we have to make sure it's sturdy. wouldn’t want the foundation crumbling, would we?”

you were on your knees before her, framed by the soft halo of light, satin dress ruched up around your thighs. every movement you made was deliberate, calculated, but looked effortless, like you were built for this room, for this moment. your fingers moved with featherlight precision, and billie gasped at the contact, her hips giving the smallest of thrusts despite the restraint she tried to hold onto.

“so needy, baby,” you cooed, tilting your head as you looked up at her with mock concern, your mouth dangerously close to her slick, aching tip. “you’ve been so helpful through this whole process, think you deserve a little thank you.”

she whimpered again, low and broken, her head falling back against the headboard. the way her muscles tensed told you everything, how close she was, how little it took to unravel her.

“please,” she begged, voice rough and ragged. “please just wanna feel you around me, please ma—”

you cut her off by pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the sensitive underside of her cock, then another near the head, before finally taking her tip into your mouth, just enough to make her buck her hips involuntarily.

“so impatient,” you murmured as you pulled back with a wet pop, letting a line of spit fall from your lips to her shaft. “what? did i spoil you with making you cum so many times that you’ve so dumb you forgot your manners already?”

“i’m sorry,” she whimpered, hands now clawing at the sheets. “m’sorry, daddy... just wanna be your good slut. please — i’ll take whatever you give me—”

you giggled softly, delighted by the pathetic way her voice cracked and trembled. her cheeks were flushed a deep rose, her thighs shaking with restraint. her body screamed for permission, her expression begging you to take her apart.

“fuck, daddy, i’m close, so close,” billie gasped, eyes glassy, pleading.

you rose gracefully, letting her see every inch of your slow, sultry movement. her eyes followed you with reverence, pupils dilated, chest heaving. you slipped out of your dress with ease, letting it fall in a quiet whisper to the floor. your black lace set clung to your frame like sin itself, hugging every curve with intention. billie's breath hitched at the sight, her mouth falling open slightly.

you straddled her lap and gave her a smug, sultry smile before pushing her down into the mattress, her body yielding to your command. she propped herself on her elbows to watch as you peeled away the rest of your lingerie, baring yourself in the golden light of the bedroom that would soon be yours.

she looked like a starving woman, utterly undone at the sight of you.

you took her cock in your hand, guiding it to your entrance as you sank down slowly, both of you moaning in unison as she filled you inch by inch. the heat, the stretch, the pressure, it was nearly too much, too perfect.

your forehead rested in the crook of her neck as you adjusted to her size, lips trailing kisses along her shoulder until you found that tender space just beneath her jaw.

“please, please let me fill you up,” she choked out, barely able to keep her voice steady. “m’so close.”

“yeah? already?” you whispered, your voice turning breathy as your pace shifted, your walls tightening around her. “want to put your babies in me?”

“please, ma — need it. i’m such a fucking slut for your pussy please”

you rocked your hips with more intention now, your nails digging into her sides. 

“yeah, i know baby,” you purred. “fucking pathetic. so desperate to please daddy, huh? just need someone to make a mess in hm?”

your hand moved to billie’s bringing it towards your body to press against your lower stomach, feeling the bulge where she throbbed inside you. you looked down and bit your lip, moaning.

“look, i can feel you in my tummy, baby. feel how deep you are? you’re gonna turn all my insides to mush hm?”

that alone was enough to make billie jerk her hips up again, dragging another sharp moan from your lips. her head nodding furiously, as you continue to bounce on her cock, taking what you wanted from billie.

“gosh, i love your noises, daddy,” she babbled, her voice wet with emotion. “need your babies so bad… want this house for us.”

you let out a soft giggle as billie’s cock twitches inside you again, she’s panting, cheeks flushed, hips bucking up into you like she’s the one in charge.

you lean back slightly, hands planted on her chest, bouncing on her cock, slow at first, rolling your hips just right, letting her feel every single inch.

“god,” you breathe out, eyes fluttering shut for a second. “you feel so good, baby. filling me up so perfect, you always do, letting me use you and your dick how i wany…”

billie lets out a desperate moan beneath you, her hands gripping your thighs, trying to force you down faster.

you tsk gently, smile wide and breathless. “oh? trying to take charge baby?” you look down at her, pouty and playful. “that’s so cute.”

“i— i can make you feel so good,” billie grits out, her voice a little deeper now, trying to be dominant. “i can fuck you how you need. just let me—”

you start riding her faster. harder. skin slapping against skin as her breath cuts off in her throat.

her head falls back. her hips jerk up involuntarily. she’s close again. the knot threatening to break.

“aww, you poor thing” you croon, giggling again, leaning forward and dragging your nails down her chest, rolling her nipples between your fingers. “were you saying something, baby? come on use your fucking words billie”

“fuck,” billie chokes, eyes wide, mouth open, her whole body trembling. “i’m gonna— i’m gonna cum—”

you stop.

just like that. your hips still, clenching around her, but no movement. her body bucks up automatically, chasing it, but you press your palm flat against her belly, pinning her down.

her whole face crumples. “no— no no no— please—”

you giggle, brushing sweaty hair off her forehead. “oh my gosh, baby… you were so close, huh?” you whisper, voice all sugar and cruelty. “aw. pretty little girl, daddy’s sorry.”

“please,” she whines, breathless. “i was so close— daddy please, let me— i need to—”

“you need to?” you tease, eyes sparkling. “oh princess… that’s not how this works. you don’t cum just because you want to.”

you start moving again, this time slower, dragging it out. the way her body twitches, how her hips try to fight it, you can feel the war happening inside her. she’s trying to be good. trying to obey. but her body wants.

“be a good girl,” you purr. “beg for it. tell me how badly you want to fill me up.”

billie gasps, moaning as her cock pulses again inside you. she looks up at you, broken and desperate. “please, daddy— i’ll do anything. i’m so close— want to cum in you, please, wanna give you everything— wanna be your good girl, let me prove it, i’ll be so good, i swear—”

you tilt your head, pretending to think. “hmmm…”

you slam your hips down hard, once, then again, watching her whole body seize with pleasure.

“i guess you’ve been good,” you say sweetly. “even with that little act you pulled earlier” you reach forward, caressing her cheek, moving the tiny strands of hair out of her face. “but let’s be real, baby. you were never in charge, just pretending hm? you know only i can make you feel this good ever.”

billie lets out a shuddering moan, eyes glassy, mouth open.

“you want it, baby?” you whisper. “you wanna cum inside daddy’s pussy?”

“yes— yes please, i’m begging you—please—”

“mmmm. good girl.”

and then you ride her.

hard. merciless. wet, loud, and messily, your moans tangled with hers as your nails scratch down her chest, your body grinding against hers until her whole body is shaking.

“cum,” you whisper in her ear. “fill me up, sweet girl. let me have your babies.”

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[rollinouttahere-writes]

Do you have any opinions on one piece yanderes who react well or poorly to their darling acting out intentionally for attention? I think sanji would drop anything in order to give you attention! I also think this would work with like, doflamingo or sir crocodile but WATCH OUT!!! I think it wouldn't work at all on Mihawk. He could outlast us so easily. Even at my most annoying I don't think he'd break. Messed up.

It would absolutely work on Sanji. You don't even really need to act out, just sighing loud enough would have him tripping over himself to cater to you lol

The rest under the cut because this got long

Other characters that this would work on:

Luffy, but also like I can't imagine you would ever NEED to. He's already glued to your side. Demanding more attention is just kinda greedy at that point.

Ace is honestly almost as bad as Sanji when it comes to spoiling his darling. He feels guilty that you're "stuck" with him and is always trying to make it up to you. But if spending even more time with you is what you want he will be on cloud 9. This is an absolute win in his book.

Usopp isn't surprised that you want more attention he is, of course you wanted more of him! Who wouldn't? He's going to talk your ear off for the rest of the day.

Robin feels a little bad once she realizes what you're doing. She does have a tendency to lose herself to the books she's reading, so she understands where you're coming from and offers to read with you. This backfires on you and makes you feel bad for acting out.

Franky rolls with the punches. This does not phase him. You're not doing anything worse than what members of the Franky family would do. He'll drag you into his workshop with him and tell you all about what he's working on, so I hope you're into that sort of a thing.

Brook is flustered that you're so down bad for him that this is what you're resorting to. You just can't get enough of him! Control yourself! Or don't. He won't actually complain.

Bartolomeo is potentially a bigger simp than Sanji, so he'll be sobbing and begging for your forgiveness. He didn't mean to spend four hours worshiping the Luffy shrine! It won't happen again! it will

Buggy gets very bent out of shape over you saying he isn't doing enough with you. How dare you! He's a very busy clown! Do you think this circus runs itself??? But then he's miserably sucking up to you and doing literally anything to gain your approval. Please don't be mad at him :(

Shanks is flattered and lets your outburst go straight to his head. Yeah, he is all that, isn't he? Of course you want more of his attention.

Works but watch out:

Doflamingo makes this a real gamble, but either way you'll regret it. He'll either not have the patience for it, or he'll decide to "humor" himself with you since you wanted his attention so badly.

It probably won't work on Crocodile. He's good at ignoring you when he's busy, which is often. If you do manage to do enough to fully get his attention on you... thoughts and prayers.

Perona will get very indignant at your insinuation that she isn't giving you enough attention. How rude! She sets aside the rest of the day for you, but she is extremely passive aggressive the whole time.

Does not work:

Nami will be annoyed by your audacity. She'll spend time with you later after she's done with her sea charts. Relax.

Boa is Nami x1000. How dare you demand more of her? She's hitting that bent over backwards stance and pointing at you while demanding an apology.

Mihawk and Zoro are much the same here. They'll both hit you with the unimpressed are-you-done-now look and then go back to whatever they were doing.

Jimbei also has a lowkey disappointed dad vibe to him when you act out. If you want to spend more time together, just ask. You'll feel embarrassed by the time he's done scolding you.

Rayleigh is unbothered by your outburst. Quit whining, he'll spend some time with you as soon as he wins this card game. He proceeds to lose immediately and now he's on a prison break sidequest. Just go hang out with Shakky.

Smoker is hitting you with the silent stare until you stop.

[bananabreadmuffins]

anxious nights

Natasha x Reader, anxious reader, Natalia comforts reader

this is so shit ngl cos i haven’t written in ages. i swear i can do better. but for now i just feel the need to get something out idk.

You and Natasha had only been dating for a couple of weeks, but she always had this way of reading you, of seeing you, almost in a way you didn’t know was possible. It was as if she could peel back your layers with just a singular glance into your eyes. It was unnerving. It wasn’t anything you were used to, and it scared you. But it was also comforting, so, so comforting. To have someone who knew what you were feeling and to really understand, without you even having to do so much as utter a word.

And you could try to hide it; God knows you tried to hide the sadness you felt at times. The emptiness that would just creep its way into your soul like a parasite. It would latch on to you and stay for what felt like forever. But she wouldn’t let you.

It was midnight when the thoughts came. Those same spiralling thoughts that always started as something small and seemingly insignificant and then just spun out of control. Your chest started to tighten as those same old feelings of worthlessness started to worm their way into your mind and heart. Natasha was asleep, snoring like a 70-year-old man suffering from sleep apnoea. To be fair to her, she did just return from an incredibly gruelling mission. She deserved the rest, which is why you tried your hardest to suffer in silence. It was becoming more challenging as your breathing started to get heavier; you were almost heaving. Your chest started to get tighter as the thoughts in your head grew louder and louder.

She sensed your turmoil from the depths of her sleep. She always did. Natasha shuffled next to you, reaching her hand out to yours to comfort you as she tried to fight the sleep and force herself awake. “Sweetheart… sweetheart, what is it?” she asked in the darkness of the night. You tried to hold your breath and stay quiet; maybe she would go back to sleep. Maybe you wouldn’t ruin her night. A slice of moonlight peeked through the curtains, illuminating her beautiful form. You found yourself staring at the curve of her lips, the hook of her nose. So beautiful. How her beauty could somehow still those dark thoughts for a moment, you never understood. A brief moment it was, as you soon started to feel undeserving of a woman like her. A woman so brave and bold and beautiful. You didn’t feel worthy of her at all.

Your lack of response began to worry her. She pulled herself out of her sleep and laid those gorgeous sleepy eyes on your face. “Oh, my darling,” she whispered as she saw your shuddering breaths, quivering lips and tears streaming down your cheeks. When did you even start to cry? You hadn’t noticed.

She pulled you into her arms quickly, rubbing the sides of your arms as you started to shiver. Her hands trailing the little goosebumps along your upper arms. She kissed your head like it was a promise that everything would be okay again. That it would pass. “I’m here, malyshka; I’m right here, and I’m not leaving you. Not one second. Let it out now, baby; I’ve got you. I’ve always got you,” she uttered in hopes of easing that aching heart of yours. You turned your head towards her with tear-filled eyes and a shaky smile.

You didn’t have the energy to speak, but she knew you, and she knew you were grateful for her. “I know, my love, I know,” she murmured softly, giving you a brief kiss on your ear. You tucked your head in the crook of her neck and breathed in her soft scent. Warm cinnamon and spice entered your nose instantly; her inviting aroma always soothed your sorrowful soul. She smelt like home and love and freshly baked cookies. It felt like huddling near a fireplace on a miserable rainy day. Your breathing began to even out as you started to relax in her comforting hold. Sometimes, it felt like she was the only thing holding you together; she was the only reason you weren’t constantly falling apart.

“Thank you, Natalia. Thank you so much.” You still felt so guilty for disturbing her sleep.

“Don’t you thank me for anything, my darling; it’s what I’m here for,” she replied instantly whilst giving you ticklish pecks on your cheeks, eliciting a warm blush. She didn’t need you to be thankful; she just needed to know you were okay. You both sat like that for a while in quiet solitude, with Nat offering more comforting words. Just her presence could be so healing for you. “Darling girl, how are you feeling now?”

“I don’t know,” you whispered. “It’s a lot quieter, though. My head, it’s not so loud anymore.”

“Please don’t hide from me again; I don’t want you to feel alone,” she pleaded.

“I know, I just. I didn’t want to disturb you, and you have had a long few days. You deserve to rest.” You were starting to ramble.

“And so do you, my love,” she spoke firmly. “You deserve rest too, as much as I do. You deserve to sleep without having incessant noise in that pretty head.” She was looking straight into your eyes, like she was trying to break through all the messy and anxious thoughts in your head. She needed you to listen, needed you to understand. “You are not a burden to me, and you never will be. When you feel like you are disturbing or bothering me, you’re not. I want to hear your worries, and I want to hold and love you through them. Please don’t keep yourself from me; I’m your girlfriend, and I love you so much.” Her tear-filled eyes caused your heart to ache. You didn’t mean to upset her; you thought it was best to keep it all in. Maybe you were wrong. Her words gave you a sort of epiphany. You don’t have to hide the difficult parts of yourself. Not from Nat.

“I’ll try, Nat. I promise to try.” For Nat, you were willing to try. With her, it didn’t seem that scary anymore.

“I want every part of you. I want to know when you're happy as well as when you feel anxious and afraid. Don’t shy away, baby, not from me.” She cupped your cheeks and gazed into your eyes.

“Okay Natty, no more hiding,” you promised resolutely whilst gazing back into those angelic eyes of hers. For Natasha, you would do anything.

“Hmmm, that’s my darling girl,” she murmured and moved a strand of hair behind your ear. Natasha kissed your lips softly, as if you were the most fragile thing in the world. Her lips were gentle and smooth as they caressed yours with such care you began to tear up. Her thumb began to stroke your cheek slowly. The combination of her tender affections made your head all warm and fuzzy. You were safe, warm and loved. You were with your Natalia.

[fafodill]

what totally down bad, desperate things do we think snape does or fantasizes about when he’s deep yearning for someone?

Let's be a little self-indulgent here. *cracks knuckles*

He's usually good at compartmentalizing so during the day he focuses on his routine and manages okay. He uses occlumency to keep the intrusive thoughts at bay.

But it doesn't work as well as it should. It infuriates him, panics him really, but he can't help it. He'll try to ignore the stirring of his cock. He's not a man who lets his mind (or body) control him.

But he becomes weirdly more sensitive than usual. When he changes. In the shower. At night.

His mind fills itself with mental images another hand traveling down his body, exploring him, appreciating him. Murmuring praises. He slowly slide a hand down his own body, shaking a little, trying not to think too much about what he's doing, how much he craves it. As his long fingers curl around the base of his cock, he lets his mind wander.

Sometimes he fantasizes about the things he never experienced. He imagine them to get on their knees for him. Saying they want him in their mouth as they unbuckle his belt with eager fingers. In his fantasy he's composed (he wouldn't in real life) and asks if they're sure they want this. They say yes, yes, oh please yes before burying their nose in his pubic hair. He shivers and tries to imagine their breath against his skin.

Sometimes he imagines cornering them somewhere in Grimmauld's Place at night, while everybody is asleep. They steal an embrace in the hallways, tiny pecks transforming into a deep open-mouthed kisses as he says he has to go but they just can't let go of him and bring him to an empty room. He stokes himself as he imagine them pushing him against a dresser and pulling at his clothes, yanking his trousers open and pulling up their robes.

He'll imagine laying against them in the dark, their hands all over him, his hands grabbing at anything he can as they both confess how much they've longed for each other. He marvels in the dark at how soft they skin feel, how wet they are, how needs they sound.

Sometimes... sometimes - and it makes his heart feel strangely tight - he imagines them sitting on his couch in his quarters, beside him. They're lounging, relaxed, just looking at him with an unconditional affection he dare not name. He imagine them lacing their fingers together before telling him they'll never leave him. He feels seen, and this caress feels even more forbidden. Impossible.

He yearns and yearns and cums in the darkness of his room, his teeth clenched, his throat trembling with a repressed moan.

And it's never enough.

[aquinnix]

Hermit-a-Day May Day 29 - Skizz

None of these people knew how to hold a meeting, clearly.

Skizz had tried hard to play along, he really had. He had held his tongue and nodded along as the hours passed by with yet another tangent. Obviously, they had their own way of doing things. And Skizz didn’t have a problem with that. Really, didn't have a problem.

But Skizz just couldn’t take it anymore.

Someone needed to get things on track. Someone needed to make sure something productive happened. Someone needed to make sure this wasn’t a waste of time.

And it was becoming increasingly obvious that someone needs to be Skizz.

But no. He was new to all of this. He was still learning. He still felt like a guest. He didn’t want to create any bad blood, hurt any feelings, show them that side of himself.

But Skizz couldn’t take it anymore.

He slapped the table with his palm, loud enough to get everyone’s attention, loud enough to startle Tango and make him fall off his chair. The room went silent.

Skizz cringed slightly, then cleared his throat. “Alright. I hate to be that guy but it’s been three hours and we still haven’t even touched on the whole point of this meeting. Which, as far as I’ve been made aware, is supposed to be whether or not anyone is having problems with this new world.” There was a sense of authority in his voice that made everyone’s eyes grow wide.

Oh no. Had he gone too far? He should have just kept his mouth shut he just wanted to help he just couldn’t sit here anymore…

He searched the crowd for Impulse who gave him a reassuring smile.

X straightened. “Umm thank you Skizz. I guess this has been going on a lot longer than it needed to.”

Nearly everyone else was still staring at him. Still shocked.

This was why Skizz didn’t want them to meet that side of him. But he just couldn’t help himself. He was just getting so frustrated and fidgety.

Too late now. He needed to stand his ground.

He nodded at X. “Does anyone have anything to say about why we are actually here?”

The conversation returned, but tentative. Raised hands and controlled speech. Finally, they were getting somewhere.

Skizz relaxed.

Afterwards, as everyone was heading home, he got some strange looks. Not hostile, but confused. Impulse threw an arm around his shoulders. “It’s alright man, they just haven’t met ‘business Skizz’ before. It was actually part of the reason I convinced them to let you in. Someone needs to keep things on track around here.” He laughed.

“And because ya love me.” Skizz let out a giggle of his own.

“And because I love you.” Impulse took his arm back, and promptly jabbed it into Skizz’s side.

[nightmarekade]

"𝓣𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓘𝓽 𝓐𝓵𝓵 𝓐𝔀𝓪𝔂."

Summary: Reader notices Cody having a hard time with carrying everything leading up to WrestleMania, and makes a plan to help him relax.

Warnings: 18+(Minors DNI), Smut, Unprotected Sex Word Count: 2.6k

A/N: This is my first ever fic on here! It was requested by my fellow Cody co-wife @turnbuckletalk; I hope you enjoy the filth! I may be tempted to make this into a series...lmk what you think!

It wasn’t hard to miss the way the weight of the world hung on your husband’s shoulders.

Not just the championship, the endless title defenses, the press events, the mounting pressure of the huge match he had coming up against Cena at Mania—but the absolutely massive burden of carrying it all at once.

The other half of the main event—the one who went on and on about ‘carrying the company’ and ‘being the face of entertainment’…wasn’t here. He wasn’t showing up every week, cutting promos to keep the ‘rivalry’ going, getting in that ring and showing his ass for thousands and thousands of people day in and day out—no, he was off filming for Hollywood and walking red carpets; coasting on the currents that Cody was leaving behind for him.

It was killing him from the inside out—you could see it. He’d come back to the hotel after a long night at whatever arena they’d chosen for the show that week, his typically bright eyes dim from exhaustion. His fingers would fumble with the buttons on his blazer, sometimes getting fed up with it and just ripping the damned thing open when he didn’t feel like asking for help—help you were more than willing to give, but he sometimes just didn’t want; and that was fine. 

Other times, he’d struggle with the cufflinks of the fancy suits he wore, his hands shaking from nerves you knew he tried so well to hide but were present anyway. There were times where he’d sigh heavily and just go without them, or times when he’d curse under his breath before begrudgingly turning to you and asking for assistance. You always did, but you never failed to notice the slump in his shoulders when a menial task like fastening his own damn cufflinks seemed impossible for him.

It tore you apart—because you knew better than most people how much Cody adored his job. He loved going out there, making appearances for his millions of fans and parading around with that belt on his waist. There just…there came a time when it was time to put all that shit down—and he was well past it. The physical exhaustion was something he could take—he’d been doing this for over twenty years. But the mental exhaustion, the emotional exhaustion…?

That was something he wasn’t quite equipped to deal with. Not like this, anyway.

You’d sat up with him countless nights, listening to him rant and rave about how he had to do this—needed to carry the company because it was his responsibility to do so. It stung your chest every time, because…he really didn’t. He was doing a two-person job all alone, and it was starting to show as the edges of his control began to fray.

You had an idea of how to take all of this—the weight, the burden of having to be perfect away from him…but you’d need to be a bit sneaky about it. After all, Cody wasn’t the type to easily let go of control when he was in work mode like this—you’d learned that the hard way toward the beginning of your marriage.

No…you’d have to pull out the big guns for this.

Hopefully it’d be enough.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:

“Babe…? I’m—” Cody’s voice cut off as he spied you standing in the middle of the hotel room floor, dressed in nothing but a red silk slip and holding a glass of wine in your hand. “....back…” He breathed, eyes already roaming over your form as a myriad of emotions flickered across his face. You counted them: Shock, confusion, want, and then finally…desperation.

You watched as the puzzle pieces clicked into place in his mind, taking in the way you stood balanced with the dim lighting of the room and your state of undress. His fingers moved to the buttons of his blazer, but you shook your head. 

His hands dropped to his sides immediately, no questions asked. 

“C’mere.” You murmured—the first word you’d spoken to him since that morning. He did, crossing the room in six long strides. You held his gaze the entire time, taking in the way his breathing had shallowed by the time he stood in front of you.

At first, you didn’t speak. Instead, you leaned down and sat your glass aside before running your hands up his torso. He shivered at the touch, his breath catching in his throat as your palms slid against the fabric of his blazer to settle against his chest. You pushed him backward, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips as he let out a surprised little noise when he fell onto the mattress behind him.

“How was the promo tonight…?” You asked then, moving to straddle his hips. You wore nothing beneath the slip, and you could tell he knew by the way he shifted under you; like he was trying not to react. “F-Fine, it was fine. Same as always, really…crowd didn’t let me speak for ten minutes.” A smile touched his lips at that, small but genuine. He loved his fans, you knew that.

“I’m glad it went well. You’ve been working so hard here lately.” You murmured, and Cody’s jaw ticked. Your fingers slid from his chest to start undoing the buttons of his blazer yourself, easily freeing him from the fabric slowly. He let you push it off of his shoulders, shrugging out of the garment and letting it fall carelessly onto the floor.

“I was thinking that maybe tonight, since you’ve been carrying so much weight on those perfect shoulders of yours…” You started, fingers working open the buttons of his dress shirt now, “...maybe you could let me take care of you.” 

It was plain to see how your words affected him; his breathing stuttered, pulse jumping beneath your fingertips where they lingered near his now bare chest, freeing him from his shirt. “I-I dunno, babe. I’ve got a lot of prep I need to—” “—I wasn’t asking, Cody.” You said then, cutting off any and all protests before he could even finish speaking. A small noise escaped him, somewhere between a whimper and a sigh, at your words. “Oh.” He said, and you nodded. “Yeah…oh.”

You pushed him back on the bed then, watching the way his pretty blues darkened at the sight of you sitting above him. The feeling of him hardening beneath you never got old, and you couldn’t resist the urge to grind down against him. He sucked in a sharp breath, eyelids fluttering. With how busy he’d been, the two of you hadn’t had much time for…well, this. It was apparent how much he needed it—and you knew how much you needed it. After all, there were only so many times you could watch him parade around in a suit before jumping his bones became the only option.

Still, you wanted to take your time with him tonight—remind him just how beautiful and strong he was.

“Wh-What do you want me to do…?” He asked, and you leaned down to silence him with a kiss. His lips parted for yours instinctively, tongues tangling as he tried and failed to hold back a desperate groan. When you pulled back he was deliciously breathless, staring up at you with hazy eyes. “I don’t want you to do anything. The only thing you need to do…is lay there and look pretty.” You said, smirking again as another full-body shiver ran through him. “But—” “Shhhh. Tonight is about you, Codes. You need this…let me help you turn your brain off, just for a few hours.” You urged, and he relented with a shaky sigh.

You trailed open-mouthed kisses down the column of his throat, relishing in the way his breathing grew heavier with each pass of your lips. His chest rose and fell shallowly, and you could feel the way he was biting back each sound that threatened to fall past his lips as you descended lower. That wouldn’t do—you adored hearing his little gasps and whimpers.

“Let me hear you, pretty boy.” You encouraged, eyes flickering up to meet his. A groan escaped him as your gazes met, your tongue trailing along the waistband of his slacks. It made his cock twitch within the confines of the fabric, and you smirked against his skin. “Can—Can I touch you…? Am I allowed…?” He asked, voice breathless. You debated, fingers dancing over the button. “Can you behave…?” You asked, and from the way he dropped his head back with a groan, you knew the answer was ‘no’.

“Don’t complain—unless you’d rather I edge you for hours.” You teased, only mostly joking. The way his entire body shuddered at the words, though, nearly tempted you to do just that.

You popped the button on his slacks open unceremoniously, dipping your fingers below the fabric to tug them down his hips and off of his perfect legs. Quick work was made of his shoes and socks as well, leaving him entirely bare before you while you remained in your pretty silk slip. He was practically trembling already as your lips trailed up the inside of his thigh, sucking marks in a line until you reached the area he desired you most.

“B-Baby—” “Shhhhhh.” You silenced him before he could beg; that wasn’t your goal tonight. Slowly, you trailed your tongue along the hard length of him, delighting in the sharp moan he gave as you dipped it into the slit to taste where he’d started to leak for you. “You taste so good…” You murmured, and he shuddered under you.

“Oh, fuck—” He whined, hips twitching up as you finally—finally wrapped your lips around him, sucking him down to the base easily. You’d had enough practice by now. “I—oh, fuck—Y/N…” His breathing grew ragged quickly as you set a slow pace, making sure to hollow your cheeks as you bobbed your head with purpose. His fingers twisted into the comforter below, knuckles going white as he gasped out his pleasure. You continued to work him over with single-minded focus, listening intently to the sounds he was making.

When his gasps turned to groans, each one more desperate than the last, you slowed your pace and pulled off of him with a soft ‘pop’. He gave a frustrated whine, throwing one of his arms over his face as he attempted to catch his breath. You looked up at him, biting your bottom lip as you watched his chest heave. He’d been close—you could tell from the way his thighs had started to shake, the way his hands scrambled for purchase against the bed.

The denial had been cruel, yes…but it was all part of the plan.

You pushed yourself to your feet using the grip you had on his thighs, moving once again to straddle his hips. He moved his arm immediately, and the sight that greeted you was downright sinful. He laid there, chest heaving and pupils blown wide. His cheeks were flushed a deep shade of pink, and his mouth hung open just slightly.

God…he was so gorgeous like this.

You took his wrists then, guiding his hands to settle on your hips. “Don’t move them, or I’ll stop.” You warned, waiting for him to nod in affirmation before you released your grip on him. He was past the point of words now, entirely lost in the feel of you. Reaching back, you took his cock in hand and gave it a few slow, deliberate strokes. Cody’s hips twitched upwards into your grip, giving another desperate groan. “Oh—I—ohhhh—” He whined, his grip on your hips flexing slightly. “Shhhh, I know. M’gonna take care of you, sweet thing. Just relax…” You murmured, voice soft and soothing as you positioned your hips over him and began to sink down.

His breath caught on a sharp gasp, the grip he had on your hips tightening enough to bruise. You didn’t mind; he was behaving. “That’s it—just feel me, baby. Let me take care of you.” You murmured, slightly breathless now as you began to roll your hips down in slow, deep and rhythmic movements. His eyelids fluttered, mouth falling open further as a helpless moan spilled past his lips. The position you had him in made it so that he couldn’t properly plant his feet, leaving you in complete control of the situation. He had no choice but to surrender, to give in and just take what you were giving him.

“I—I—” He choked out, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps now. You continued to roll your hips, palms sliding up his torso to rest on his chest for leverage so that you could begin to ride him properly. The answering sound he let out was one of agonized desperation—he knew the rules; you told him when and where to finish, and he obeyed. You knew he’d be keyed up, already teetering on the edge from how close you’d gotten him to the edge before.

Picking up the pace of your hips, you felt him twitch inside of you. “You close, baby…?” You asked, now chasing your own release as well as trying to get him there. He nodded frantically, eyes opening to meet your heated gaze with his wrecked one. “Please….” He whimpered, the sound half-broken and cut off as he fought not to break the rules and spill inside you too early. After all, you’d told him to behave.

“Just a little longer, baby—” “—P-Please—let me—let me touch you—” He interrupted you with his desperate plea, his eyes flickering down to where he watched you take him in over and over again. Another whine tore from his throat, eyes squeezing shut momentarily as he threw his head back. “Oh, please—” 

And who were you to deny him, when he begged so beautifully…?

Moving one of your hands from his chest, you took his left wrist and guided his hand to slide across your stomach. He didn’t need much more of a hint, his thumb gravitating to your clit with practiced ease and beginning to rub perfect circles against the sensitive bundle of nerves. Your hips jerked against his, a moan falling past your own lips before you could silence it. “God, yes, Codes—just like that—” You encouraged, your voice rising to a higher pitch the faster you both approached the edge.

He gave a moan that was higher pitched than the others suddenly, his hips twitching. “I-I—I can’t—I’m so—Y/N, please, let me—” He whimpered, his voice shaking as he fought with every last shred of strength he had not to finish before you gave him permission. The intense desperation in his voice mixed with the wildness of his eyes was the final push you needed, and you gave him a nod of assent as you both fell over the edge.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆　　 ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:

You laid there together afterward, chests heaving and breathing each other’s air. Cody’s head was buried in your chest, the man drifting in and out of consciousness as he recovered from what was quite possibly the most intense orgasm of his life—his words, not yours.

“You okay, sweet boy…?” You asked after a while, when you felt him stir against you for the fourth time. “Mhm,” he hummed against your skin, nuzzling in closer. “Thank you.”

Your chest swelled with affection and love for your husband, who thanked you for taking care of him even though you’d have done it time and time again without question. “You don’t have to thank me, baby. Sometimes, you just need someone to take it all away.”

Comment below if you'd like to be added to the taglist for any future Cody fics I write!

[loveyourlovelysoul]

Differences we often don't pay too much attention to

Relaxing VS Numbing Relaxing: conscious act of unwinding, reducing stress, promoting well-being that leaves you feeling relaxed after a long day and ready for the next. Numbing: act of avoiding or suppressing unpleasant emotions or realities often through escapist activities. May provide temporary relief but doesn't relax us: it makes us feel depleted and exhausted (from pushing things away) and overwhelmed (from unprocessed feelings). If watching TV, binge-scrolling or any other form of "zoning-out" leaves you feeling this way, you may not be relaxing but numbing.

Commitment VS Unhealthy Attachment Commitment: sincere devotion to someone you're with, characterized by respect, trust and mutual desire for well-being on both sides. Riding out the highs and lows with a partner who loves you back. Unhealthy Attachment: beneath a façade of commitment, the fear of leaving, excessive guilt or shame, lack of self-worth/belief one is worthy of healthy love. Based on a dynamic of manipulation and dependance, manifests as control or inhability to let go. Inescapable attachment.

Privacy VS Secrecy Privacy: laded on trust and self-respect. Respecting personal boundaries, making value-driven choices about what we want to keep on the inside and what we want to share with the world. There are a few people we can trust and to whom tell everything. Secrecy: riddled with shame and fear. We intentionally conceal informations out of fear of isolation, shame or family norms. It erodes our sense of community and support and leave us feeling alone in our darkest hours.

Moving Forward VS Moving Through Moving Forward: getting up during/after struggles, moving on and creating a new future. Moving Through: processing the hurt, cleaning out our inside, choosing the emotional landscape we want to live on in the future while fully acknowledging what we've been through in our past.

Support VS Enabling Support: we help, guide, listen and show up for friends in need, focusing on their growth and self-sufficiency. Our belif in them helps them, gives them strength to change. Enabling: we do something for someone that they could/should do themselves, to shield them from discomfort or move their growth along faster. Generally hinders progress and is usually about getting rid of our own discomfort with their struggle.

Optimism VS Toxic Positivity Optimism: hopeful and confident outlook on your future, amidst all the challenges and discomforts present in every stage of life. Acknowledges difficulties while believing in safety, growth, connections and a positive outcome. Beneficial. Toxic Positivity: constant positivity that dismisses and invalidates real but negative emotions and experiences that life brings. It hinders healthy coping mechanisms and suppresses genuine feelings, turning out to be harmful.

(therapist_in_nyc on ig)

[itadoraki]

Half of Me.

—————————————————————————

Jamil Viper x R.femele.

—————————————————————————

.

.

The sun was already beginning to set beyond the visible dunes of the great scarabia window, dyeing the dormitory orange and gold. The heat of the day vanished slowly, leaving in the air the scent of fresh herbs harvested in the morning. In the kitchen, the rhythmic sound of the knife cutting vegetables was interrupted by low whispers and soft laughter.

- Did you cut the garlic into cubes? - Jamil asked, taking a brief look over his shoulder.

- It's here. In almost perfect cubes, Mr. Viper - you answered with a victorious smile, handing over the board with pride.

He accepted with a half corner smile. It wasn't common to see him smile like that - but with you, the weight on his face seemed to soften.

- Almost perfect. You'll need more practice.

- Look who's talking - you joked. - You almost burned the rice because you were thinking about Potions' duties.

- ...I played where I shouldn't, right?

You laughed, and he sighed deeply, but the sound was not tired - it was a silent relief. Since you started sharing your routine with him, everything seemed lighter. Still demanding, still full of tasks - but divided in half, it was easier to bear.

Together, you finished dinner: marinated chicken with saffron and lemon, sautéed vegetables and cinnamon-scented basmati rice. Jamil organized the dishes with impeccable precision, and you arranged the cutlery, already knowing his every movement by heart. It was a coordinated dance - without the need for orders, without stumbling.

After dinner, you went straight to the study lounge of the dormitory. Jamil brought his magic books, group management and magical history from his homeland. You brought his notebooks and a mug of tea for him.

- Shall we review it together? - you asked.

- Are you sure? I can be... too intense.

- And I like it. Let's go - he replied, firm.

For two hours, you studied. He explained the most complex theories as if he were teaching spells to an army, and you, with patience, made him take a deep breath between one page and another. When he started talking too fast, you lightly touched his hand - and he stood. When his shoulders began to stiffen, you lightly massaged the back of his neck - and he relaxed. It was a constant, mutual, silent care.

When they finally closed the books, Jamil leaned against the wall, his eyes turned to the ceiling, his fingers intertwined with his own.

- Before you arrived, all this... was suffocating. I had to cook, keep the dormitory in order, study, deal with Kalim, supervise the others... It was never enough. I always felt like a mistake on the verge of collapse.

- And now? - you asked, looking at him softly.

Jamil turned sideways, his dark gaze fixed on his face.

- Now... I still do all this. But I'm not alone anymore.

And that changes everything.

Silence. But not uncomfortable - a silence filled by the presence of the other, by the silent recognition that you had become an essential part of his life. He didn't need to ask for help, explain, prove. You were already there, like an extension of what he needed to be. A partner. An ally. A port.

He pulled you slowly to his lap, your face buried in your shoulder, your whole body giving in. There were no urgent kisses. Not even exaggerated words. There was only him... finally letting someone share the weight.

- You're the first person I don't feel I need to defend myself with.

- And you're the first person who lets me take care of you without running away - you replied, caressing your hair.

The night fell outside. The open windows let in the sound of the warm breeze of the desert and the leaves swinging gently. The dormitory, so full of obligations, rituals and rules... at that moment it was just home.

And between books, pots, spells and caresses... Jamil Viper discovered that the true power was not in controlling everything alone - but in allowing someone to walk by his side.

—————————————————————————

[darlingdaisyfarm]

hi!! sorry to bother but i just had to ask, do you by any chance have any headcanons for pre-portal fiddleford? 👀 like… what kind of kinks you think he’d be into?? i totally understand if you’re not into him like that or don’t feel like answering, no pressure at all!! i just got curious and thought you might have Thoughts™️

okay anon sooo i think we’ve got some real Fiddleford lovers in the house! and while yeah, i’m usually more into Stan & Ford, i’m always down to write for Fidds, especially after i stumble across some of that really good art of him... you know the kind... yeah. he’s honestly super cute in canon too, let’s be real.

answering ur question, i’ve been carrying around some thoughts about Fidds in my brain for a while now. they’re probably not the most original takes out there but.. ehhh, i’m gonna post them anyway because why not?? he deserves the love!

nsfw

toy-building.

this is the obvious one i think. nah, Fiddleford doesn’t just buy a toy, he’s in his little lab, sleeves rolled up, grease on his fingers, building some remote-controlled vibrator specially for his darling. he’ll build you some wearable stim device. and he’s not even that smug about it, he’s just earnest. he will gently ask you to test prototypes while he takes notes. and yes, he blushes when you cum too fast. and yes, he tries not to jerk off about it but absolutely fails

oral fixation / praise kink

there’s no question in my mind, he’s an oral fixation boy, through and through. not just about getting you off (though that’s obviously a huge part of it), but about the sensory act of it. the taste, the smell, the way you grab at his hair or thighs when you can’t take it anymore, he’d be studying you with the same reverent focus he gives his machines. and i think it makes him shy afterward, almost embarrassed by his own neediness. he’ll say things like “hope i didn’t get too carried away down there” even while your legs are still shaking. he’ll never quite admit how feral he gets for it

this man is obsessed with putting his mouth on the person he loves. “i don’t know what i’m doing with my hands so i’m just gonna use my mouth” energy. he really needs the other person’s reactions to feel reassured he’s doing okay. lots of tongue, lots of sucking bruises into skin absentmindedly while taking a break from studying, tons of focus on inner thighs, fingers, lips, ears even. he’s so weird with it. like “i was thinkin’ ’bout you all day and now i just wanna taste every inch of you, if that ain’t too much” with this pathetic look in his eyes, he’s just starving.

PRAISE. being praised and giving praise. he's tender, still someone who overthinks everything, and having a partner go “you’re so good at that,” “you’re making me feel so good,” “you’re such a sweet boy” just makes him melt and pant and probably bust way too early. and if you beg, if you look down at him and say “Fidds please don’t stop,” that’s it. he’s finished. “yes ma’am/sir/baby” is all he can manage. and if you call him “baby”? oh lord. bring a defibrillator.

he’d absolutely be the type to ask “didja like that? did i do okay?” after giving head/eating you out, blushing. hopeful and looking for reassurance, which makes it all the more intense because he’ll want to go again until he knows without a doubt that he did it right. multiple orgasms for you is the goal.

he’s def a “consent king but also gets off on being used” kind of boy. he would ask to be used, softly, scared to say it out loud. “i mean, if ya ever wanted to just. . . y’know, sit on my face ‘n let me help ya relax, i wouldn’t mind none. promise.” and then he’d get off on being treated like a toy, a tool, a good little thing who exists to make you cum. and the praise just loops right back around, “that’s my good boy” does smth to him

light powerplay?

but here's the twist. he’s a giver, yeah, but he also wants to have you too, to own just a little. he’ll be under you one night and the next he’s got you bent over a cluttered blueprint table, one hand on your spine, telling you “i’ve letcha play enough, sugar. now hush and lemme show you who runs this lab.”

semi-public play

he doesn’t realize it at first, it just sort of happens. you kiss his neck too hard while he’s calibrating something and he forgets he has lab assistants three rooms over. but when Fiddleford realizes you’re a little breathless and shameless about where his fingers are inside you, it does something to him. it’s probably the adrenaline thing. or it’s just how damn proud he is that the person writhing in his lap is the one he gets to take care of. and that someone else might hear, might know what he’s capable of?? yeah, he holds onto that idea. might even whisper in your ear about it, “s’not my fault yer so sweet i can’t keep my hands off ya. now stay quiet for me, hon.”

overstimulation!!

this man has never once wanted a normal orgasm. he wants to see you lose your mind. wants this kind of sex where you're curled into his lap afterwards trembling and murmuring his name over and over again, dumbfounded, whispering you can't do it anymore. he doesn’t mean to overwhelm you, it’s just that when he starts, he can’t stop. he’ll say “one more” twelve times. he’ll gently scold your whines like “now now, sugarplum, don’t start gettin’ dramatic on me, yer almost there.” + he’ll absolutely use his toys on you for this, might even build one with a timer so he can watch your face when the pulse changes mid-orgasm. will whimper with you when you beg for a break. and then still keep going. for science!

so, i think he's not into degradation (would cry)

he's very responsive to gentle domming

definitely would be the type to cry during sex if he was emotionally overwhelmed by the love part

i think Fiddleford’s whole sexual philosophy is built on three things. curiosity, reverence, and utility

[ultimate-marysue]

Guys, just as a concept: not every ship has to be composed by someone who is 100% a top and someone who is 100% a bottom. If that's what you want to do with the ship, all the power to you! But like, if you want them to switch they can actually. Don't limit yourself!

[sttoru]

pls pls pls 🥹 older bf! gojo fucking the attitude out of his gf

 𝝑𝑒 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. satoru picks you up after your lecture to spend quality time with you, only to realise you got an attitude that needs some fixing.

tags. dom older bf!gojo x female reader. smut, pwp but also with plot. age gap (reader early 20’s, satoru early 30’s). rough. hints of degradation. p in v -> unprotected. standing doggy. semi-public. spanking. hair pulling. name calling. creampīe. nicknames ‘princess, baby’. wc: 3.2k

“mind telling me who that was, baby?” satoru asks while he fixes his sunglasses. he pushes his hair back a little, walking beside you through campus. you had just finished your study session with a boy who’s in your statistics class. your lovely boyfriend offered to pick you up and take you back home after that.

though, despite the kind gesture, you’re still visibly stressed after revising the material. your mind is occupied with all sorts of stuff you need to know before your exam on thursday.

“just a classmate,” you respond curtly, not even looking at satoru. you’re speeding ahead of him, wanting to rush home already. you nibble on your bottom lip and your brows are furrowed due to the distress, “why do you care?”

that sentence came out harsher than you had expected it to. you don’t mean to be bitchy, but you’re under too much stress at the moment. your body reacts before you can withstand it.

satoru is silent for a few seconds. he’s surprised by the tone of voice you used. he keeps on following you, however, not letting your little comment ruin the conversation. he’s there to help you, not to make you even more upset.

which is why he tries to lighten the mood.

“oh?” satoru chuckles, his dimples showing. he easily keeps up with you, his long legs carrying him around quite fast. the white haired man pushes a strand of your hair behind your ear ever so gently, “did someone upset my little princess today?”

you don’t answer him. you’re focused on your phone, hurriedly texting your friend back while speeding past all the other students. you don’t even notice how the girls are gawking at your man—whispering about how handsome he is and who he might be.

satoru doesn’t pay them any mind. his sole goal is to gain your attention back. he frowns after his question is met with silence. the clicking of his dress shoes increases as he tries to get you to stop and face him.

“c’mon,” your boyfriend sighs and stands in front of you, stopping you to an abrupt halt. he holds your wrist tenderly yet firmly, letting you know that he wants to properly communicate with you, “y’ can’t ignore me.”

you yank your hand back, your irritated attitude visible in your actions. you look up at satoru, not caring about what he thinks or wants at the moment. you just want to go home and relax. everything is overstimulating you.

“i can and i will,” you huff before stepping aside to continue your journey out of the university’s terrain. your boyfriend’s frown only deepens. you’re not the only one who’s currently getting agitated. you push past a group of students who stood in your way, “let’s just go home.”

satoru’s eyes narrow. he doesn’t get upset fast—he rarely feels any kind of anger—but right now he can feel something itching inside of his chest. he’s tried not to let the jealousy get the best of him at first, but now with all the other emotions coming into play, it’s nearly impossible to hold himself back.

satoru considers himself a fairly mature man. he’s always been one, yet when it comes to you he can’t help but feel like he doesn’t have any control over his emotions. his body and mind act on their own.

“aht aht. not so fast, little lady.”

you suddenly feel yourself being dragged to the side. satoru’s grip around your arm isn’t harsh, but it sure is enough to make you stumble along with him. you click your teeth in slight annoyance after the initial shock settles in. you know there’s no fighting it; you don’t want others to witness your little squabble.

“hey, where are we going?” you ask, a slight whine leaving your throat. you simply want to go lay in your bed and avoid everything and everyone else. your eyes are focused on the back of satoru’s head as he guides you along. he doesn’t bother to face nor answer you.

you sigh and simply allow yourself to be dragged away. if you’re going to get a scolding, you don’t mind. you’re just going to hear him out and nod along so you can go back home faster.

you raise an eyebrow when satoru arrives at the bathroom on the second floor. “what the—” you’re confused as to what your boyfriend is trying to achieve. you quickly look around to see if anyone has seen you.

no one seems to be close. this part of the building has always been empty around this time frame anyway.

you’re pulled into the men’s bathroom after satoru made sure that the coast was clear. he gently pushes you into an empty stall and locks the door. “satoru, what’s up with you?” you sigh as you stumble back against the bathroom wall. it’s a hypocritical comment considering your own nasty attitude.

you try to push him aside, only for your boyfriend to force your arms around his neck, pulling you flush against him. your eyes lock into his and that’s when you notice how . . dark they are. the usual playful look is nowhere to be found.

“i’m just thinkin’ that y’r attitude needs some fixing, hm?” satoru whispers. a ghost of a smirk appears on his face—it’s a twisted one. wicked, with the thoughts of what he’ll do to punish you for your actions. he rarely has that expression when he’s with you.

he tips your chin up with quite some force, “i can help with that.”

everything else happens at a blink of an eye. one of satoru’s large hands slithers up your back to tangle in your hair and yank it back, exposing the column of your throat for his hickeys to take shape on. his other hand swiftly makes work of your pants and undergarments.

his jaw is clenched—the usual hint of gentle love in his eyes is replaced by lust fuelled by jealousy and frustration. satoru is not playing around either. instead of taking his time like he usually does when it comes to intimacy, he’s quick to discard both your clothing.

“fuckin’ tease,” the white-haired man mutters under his breath, panting with desire. he zips down his pants and frees his big cock from his boxers. “always pushing my buttons. isn’t that right, baby?”

satoru lets out a breathy, mocking chuckle. he fists the shaft slowly while his blue eyes roam over your body caged against him and the wall, “but i guess tha’s part of the reason why i love you—hah.”

you’re basically in shock at the sudden switch. your jaw is slack and your eyes are wide, but there’s an undeniable feeling in your chest that tells you you’re loving this change. you can’t deny the fact that you’re turned on. extremely turned on.

“‘toru, i don’t think it’s smart to do this here,” you murmur in a small voice. you’re trying to have some dignity, even now, when your panties are soaked and the scent of your obvious arousal is driving your man crazy.

“don’t care,” satoru shakes his head with a smug grin. his long fingers hook around the waistband of your underwear before flimsily tugging them down to your ankles. his eyes darken the second he sees the webs of sticky, translucent slick clinging from your panties to your puffy folds.

he grunts, his cock twitching painfully in his hand. he’s thinking of simply jerking off to the sight of you in front of him, but he decided otherwise. satoru smacks your clit with his fat tip, “should’ve thought about that before catchin’ an attitude with me.”

suddenly, he turns you around so you’re facing the wall. your nails dig into the flat surface of the tiles, catching onto nothing. you’re hoping that no one will walk into the bathroom. last thing you need is everyone knowing that you were getting your back blown out by your boyfriend on campus.

not that satoru would mind those rumors. it’d only fuel his (already) huge ego.

“oh, yeah— shit. you need this ‘s much as i do,” satoru groans as sinks his cock into your pussy, agonisingly slow, inch by inch. you shudder and hold in your moans as your velvety walls make part for him.

his hands spread your pert asscheeks, smacking the full globes before kneading them to soothe the pain. he continues in a low, dangerous voice, “you wouldn’t be so stuck up if y’ didn’t need this fuckin’ dick to shut you up.”

satoru doesn’t stop pushing in until his heavy balls are resting snugly against your bottom, warming his sack full of cum that’s aching to be released in your dripping cunt.

“ngh, ‘toru,” you bite your lip and try not to orgasm just from the feeling of being full— so full of cock that it makes you see stars, “just like that.”

the white-haired man responds with a satisfied grunt, sweat forming on his forehead from how hot and wet it is inside of you.

“oh, there she is,” satoru coos once he hears your whiny voice, that sweet voice he cherishes and loves. it isn’t cold nor avoidant anymore like before and that’s really all he wanted to acquire. he licks a stripe from the tip of your ear to the lobe, voice husky, “there’s the girlfriend i know. moan some more f’ me.”

you shiver as satoru’s lips connect with the back of your neck. after wetting the skin with his saliva, he bites. not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to leave a mark. you clamp around his dick in response and he curses under his breath.

“please, fuck me,” you breathe. you need more stimulation, need him to absolutely ruin you. the shallow and slow thrusts he’s giving are nothing but torturous.

satoru grins and rests his chin on top of your shoulder, large hands rubbing around your hips and lower abdomen, teasing your clit every now and then to get you even more pent up.

“fuck you?” he tilts his head, as if contemplating. he clicks his tongue and gives your ass a firm slap that nearly sends you over the edge. “hah, you should be grateful for what i’m givin’ you.”

but satoru’s weak for you. even if he’s trying to be the ‘mean’ and ‘cold’ dominant guy. his cock is aching to plunge in and out of your wet hole, to see you come undone and feel your juices coat his balls and thighs.

“fine. i’ll fuck you,” satoru relents with a roll of his eyes, acting like he isn’t desperate for you too. he grips your hips in a bruising manner and bites your shoulder, “—fuck you like the brat you are.”

your hands save your face from making contact with the wall as your body suddenly jostles back and forth in a speed you can’t even process.

“satoru!” you nearly scream his name out of pure surprise. the pleasure comes crashing down in waves, your pussy uncontrollably spasming around his girthy cock.

satoru grumbles something incoherent as he pistons his hips, ramming in your sloppy cunt while his eyes are fixated on your bouncing ass. white locks of hair stick to his forehead as he splits you open on his dick.

“so pretty,” the older man sighs. he turns your head sideways so you can look him in the eyes while he fucks you silly. he caresses your cheek gently, a contrast to the mocking grin on his lips and the rough thrusts against your ass, “too bad y’ got such a potty mouth on you.”

satoru pushes his index and middle finger between your lips to muffle your noises, “…but don’t worry, i’ll fix that for you. gladly.”

you eagerly suck on them between quick gasps of air, saliva trickling down his hand. your boyfriend redoubles his efforts, the fat tip of his dick hitting that special spot deep inside you.

his free hand reaches down to circle your clit. the double stimulation sends you into a state of pure bliss. your pupils are dilated as you struggle to find satoru’s gaze, head lolling back and forth with each powerful stroke.

perhaps this really was all you needed to help destress and forget all about your responsibilities. it feels good to not think about anything at all— your head empty except for the feeling of your cunt being filled.

satoru’s cock twitches inside of you with the urge to release a load in your womb. “give me it, please,” your voice is muffled as you plead with him. your hand sneaks downwards, trying to find his balls, “w-want your cum.”

your fingers toy with his sack once you find it. his pre-cum and your own juices now coat your skin as well, your hand enclosing around his balls, massaging them. it’s like you’re trying to coax his potent semen out of them and that alone makes satoru throw his head back in ecstasy.

“little cumslut. . .” satoru growls, brows furrowing as he tries not to shoot his cum inside of your greedy cunt right that second. the hand that was keeping you quiet quickly snatches your wrist and pins it against the bathroom wall.

“are you that desperate to get filled? yeah?” your boyfriend huffs, not stopping to catch his breath at all. his hips pound faster against your ass with renewed passion.

your lips are parted and they move, but not a single answer comes out of your mouth. you’re unable to think or talk because of the pleasure.

satoru takes that as a yes. the erotic sight of you being so lost in sin is enough to fuel his desire to fuck you harder. his hips never falter as he scoffs at your pathetic self, “tch, so addicted to my cock y’ can’t even answer me.”

you shake your head and search for your words. however, you fail, and all that you’re capable of communicating is what you need, “fuuuuck, yes i am—‘toru, need your cock ‘n cum— more.”

satoru lets go of your wrist to grab your jaw. he forces your head back again before he captures your lips in a bruising kiss. his tongue plunders inside your mouth, exploring every inch.

he pulls back to gasp for air and releases your jaw with a slight shove to grab your hips again. “more? hah,” the white-haired man lets out a haughty chuckle. he gives a particular hard thrust against your butt, tip kissing your cervix painfully yet deliciously, “y’ think you deserve more after that shit you pulled?”

satoru yanks your head back by your hair. the stinging sensation makes your scalp itchy, but it also increases your pleasure. he lowers his lips to your ear, his voice dangerously low, “nah, you gotta make this work.”

you could. you can make it work and that’s the truth. he could fuck you with just his tip and you’d be able to cum a couple times in a row.

jolts of pleasure run down your spine as satoru drives into you harder, the force of his thrusts rocking your entire body. you’re seeing stars and the words roll off your tongue, “please, mhh, almost there!”

satoru groans. he can feel the delicious fluttering of your cunt around his cock, the telltale signs of an orgasm building. he has half a mind to pull out completely and let you writhe and beg him some more.

he contemplates it for a few seconds. the second your eyes start to roll back, signaling your impending climax, his cock slips out of your pussy. you whine and push your hips back in search for his dick- to fill the void he left.

satoru jerks himself off at the pitiful sight. he rubs his veiny shaft between your slick folds before slapping the tip against your cunt, letting it catch onto your entrance for a few times.

“begging like that isn’t going to get you anywhere. y’ can do better,” your boyfriend encourages in a sultry tone. one of his hands rest on your tummy, fingers splaying over your clothed skin. another filthy smack of his tip against your slit makes you shiver, “come on.”

you bite your lip out of frustration. you arch your back each time the fat head of his cock catches onto your gaping hole, hoping to slip it in, but you can't. you tilt your head back and lock eyes with satoru close up behind you.

“please let me cum, 'toru. i'll be good, i promise,” you beg with a lewd pleading expression. one that make satoru's balls tighten with the urge to cum as well.

with a low groan, satoru snaps his hips forward, burying his dick inside of you once more, “there ya go. good girl, knew y’ had it in you.”

the praise and familiar feeling of his dick stretching you open is enough to push you over the edge. you nearly black out as your cunt spasms around him, your juices gushing out to coat his length and balls.

satoru grits his teeth once he feels your tight cunt clench viciously around his throbbing cock. your orgasm has a domino effect on your lover, causing him to hastily chase his own release. “shit! take it, princess. take it all inside this greedy fuckin' cunt,” he hisses and grinds his pelvis against the fat of your ass.

satoru buries himself to the hilt before his cock jerks and pulses, emptying his balls deep inside of you. his fingers dig into the meat of your butt, holding you in place as he grinds against you, making sure every last drop of his seed is nestled into your waiting womb.

“there y’ go, mhm—taking my load so deep,” your lover sighs and lowers his head, resting against your back. he hugs you tightly to his chest while you both catch your breath. he rides out his orgasm slowly, still grinding against you while he leaves lazy kisses on your nape.

a minute passes before you've regained your composure, somewhat. you smile as satoru kisses your temple lovingly, praising you for taking him so well. the switch back to his usual gentleman personality is much needed after such an intense moment.

“thank you, babe. i needed that,” you giggle as you rest back against his chest. thick, pearly globs of cum escape your pussy, dripping around his cock and onto your thighs, but neither of you could care less. the clean up is a problem for later.

satoru chuckles back at you as he leaves another loving kiss against your cheek. “i knew you did,” he murmurs and pets your head, “my poor girl has been working so hard on her assignments, hm? poor, poor baby.”

you playfully roll your eyes at the overexaggerated concern in your lover's voice, however you appreciate it.

satoru doesn't bother to pull out. first things first; he needs to get you all comfortable again and give you the aftercare you deserve. his hands massage your hips as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, acting all lovey-dovey like he hasn't just shown you a more dominant side of him.

“how ‘bout we go home and order some food? we can cuddle and watch a movie together, ‘kay? i’ll take care of you, princess.”

[forehead451]

stream of consciousness type deal.

[sheeezu]

What to do if you have not shifted for +++years

(Most of my anons were along the lines of this same issue, I want to make a common post for them. I won't be telling you "you're already there" or "persist" I'm going to have a heart to heart conversation with your mental health in mind, this will be a long post)

First and foremost I have to say, this post is very heavily opinion-based. Alright, I'll divide it into topics, and two categories: before shifting and during shifting.

Before Shifting.

Determining the laws of your reality.

This is where you've got to do most of the work. (Don't worry, it won't be 7 hour subliminal listening sessions) now let's present a very important note: I don't know who you are. But most importantly I don't know what you believe in. Shifting isn't a known set of rules, Shifting doesn't have a single method, it does not have a wikihow page. Everything that exist is because of you. Therefore there are differences in my reality and yours. What you believe in is acting out in reality. LITERALLY.

So first you need to ask yourself some questions, with full honesty, oh and don't apply the thoughts you have by certain reprogramming affirmations, don't force yourself just because you have to persist.

"What am I?" What do you believe you are? Currently, are you a soul, a human? Or you something greater, seek within yourself to answer what you believe.

"What is reality?" How is everything working around you? Why are you here.

"Who is in control?" Who makes you shift. Who or what makes everything happen.

"How to shift?" Self explanatory. If you write with utmost truth on what you think shifting is like and when and how it happens; you'll basically have the code of how reality works for you.

Relax.

After you've gathered your research sheets. Take a breath, since you've got all the answers you need. Now, close your eyes, whenever you like. Imagine a serene atmosphere, for example, sharp sunlight falling on your skin, warming you up, or the rain droplets drowning your senses, as you run across a forest. Tell yourself, "this is what shifting is" , and "I've shifted." That's all it is. You feel some you get some.

Some important realizations,

• Time is not linear.

• Failure is a perception.

• You're not beneath anyone.

• You don't need to prove yourself to anyone.

• you'll survive, you'll be alright.

Don't. Kidnap. Yourself.

The title sounds weird, but it is regarding heavily applying the principle of assuming until you have it, to EVERYTHING. Idc if people come after me. I don't want anyone to suffer by stamping their foreheads with "persist!" Even if it works. I love loa, until it crosses over into toxic positively. Don't just put yourself in a coffin; don't become a prisoner to your thoughts! Don't make it feel like there's an angry witch in your mind, who will scream at you if something goes wrong, the problem is! Something might go wrong and you'd end up highlighting the idea that you are being forced to assume against something. Don't feel forced. Simple. (You can still use loa, if you like)

Declutter your mind.

I said it before. and @ilovecatfr explained this here, there's so much in your mind. I can tell. Each and everyone has their own unique spin on shifting. That's great and they put out advice to help people, similarly you... also have it within you. Afterall, these bloggers, big well written and decorated posts are the projection of your assumptions. I'd like to say, majority of the bloggers are kindhearted with the aim to help others. Although for some, you being desperate in their asks is an ego boost, nothing is wrong with feeling good about yourself for your knowledge, but you the person at the other end of this screen, are not a pawn, not just another anon, alright? you know how to shift, look back at what your answers were to the questions.

Control your emotions towards this reality.

I've always wanted to discuss this. Emotions are the puppeteers of this show. They're a grounding mechanism of any reality. If you feel something deeply, you're angry at circumstances you form an attachment to this reality, it keeps you here. Think about what happens to a person when they get disassociation. Similarly belief + emotional investment = reality. Its a code. I can confidently say anyone who has not shifted (... not targeting anyone, genuinely trying my best to help; ty ty back to the text) is because they're giving too much emotional importance to this reality. This can be in the form of stressing that you have not shifted, being worried that you're not in your dr, putting much focus on the "What ifs" of if you wake back in this reality.

But we can't just go BLANK. we're still humans who feel deeply (for now huehue) so what's the solution to this non-issue? Direct these feelings towards your destination, your intended reality! This would mean feeling like your dr self, if you're experiencing negative emotions you can last second convert them to any scenario related to your dr, emotional investment there pays well, here? It just wastes time.

Don't let feelings get the best of you and keep you here; you're their creator after all.

(Optional) Create a homey dr.

This comes from personal experiences. If I don't mention this I won't be completely open with each one of you. I shifted through intense love and reverence for my home. I knew that each and every second spent in this reality led up to me shifting to my home.

So for ease later on when you can't decide between drs, it'll be comforting to have a reality you can call home and choose over and over again.

Rewire.

This is where you come back to what you answered to the questions. Do you like your response? A human is living in a reality, and your answers are the universal law there. Will they have an easy time with shifting? If you think so, then choose to not do any "rewiring" and act upon the answers you wrote, shifting in accordance to them as they have become the pillars of your reality. If you think the person's reality's laws regarding shifting are complicated, then you can choose to rewire them. This can be a simple manifestation. As it has no basis in the 3D yet, you will manifest it within seconds. You can either write it down, listen to a subliminal, or simply think of the new beliefs in your head (eg "I shift in seconds") and let go. Stop.

(Severely optional) strive for spiritual awakenings

*shrugs* I thought I should mention based on personal experience.

During shifting.

Confuse your logical brain

You don't have to give it validation. Instead, just make it unable to predict the next move of it creator. Its built to look at everything with skepticism.. but it has nothing when you don't give it the chance. For example, the anti method by @hrrtshape is the best example. I like that you can do this, pre-method like a little warm up. (You can also manifest to not think logically)

Know your game

To act like you're in a battle field is not the way to shift. You don't have to give the actual practice of shifting much or any importance. You know how to shift, then why is there a need to have plan B's and checking your own environment? You are the commander in front, you're the one switching the reality, your reality is not the one switching.

Senses shift last

Explained by @stilljuststardust here.

Be blind and deaf to each and everything other than your intended reality

...and be so obsessed with your intended reality. Live out entire days, you're there, no, time is not passing by, the previous reality has disappeared by your hyperfixation on your intended reality. Ever done that exercise where you stare at a dot for so long, everything around it disappears? Well then, EXACTLY. Make it dissapear. Make it dissappear by not giving it any more of your energy. ....how I shifted. This is based upon being your dr self, that's snatches away the spotlight from this current reality.

Keep yourself comfortable

All of you are experienced enough to know, you don't need to lay in the starfish position. But remove the unnecessary thought that if you dare move your finger you might mess up the whole attempt (This is a subconsciousness belief) here's how to not worry about your 3D: again, senses shift last, Your current reality = intended reality.

It is about breaking free from human functions

Your software is set to being an earthly human. This is why acting like your current reality (the noises from the environment, physical annoyances) are from your intended reality, helps. This allows you to trick your human brain and move forward. The more you try to make sense of shifting, the more less it'll make sense. You don't have to know everything about shifting. The point is to be awfully natural about it. Just like how you wake up in this current reality without any requirement. You don't overthink it, then why overthink shifting.

Hope I cleared everything, I spent 5 hours on this post. If anything is not clear, please send in an ask, I am 100% avaliable to answer anything amiss.

Now let's see how much time I take to actually make this post aesthetically pleasing, so people don't have to bleach their eyes or ruin their blogs with this.

Dedicated to @lilyblairkinda who gave me this idea, once.

[greengoblinswifey]

Trust— Rafe Cameron x Pogue!Reader

summary— based on season 4 episode 9, slight spoilers. rafe is convinced he can help you relax, take your mind off the drama on the ship and make you trust him.

warnings— manipulation, oral, praise kink, degrading kink, bondage, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding kink.

Rafe looked up as you entered the small, cramped bathroom, his blue eyes narrowing before softening a bit as he registered your expression. “Come to check on me again?” he drawled, his voice low and rough after days of confinement. Despite his irritation, there was a hint of something else in his tone, something that felt almost, relieved.

“Yeah,” you replied, sighing as you slid down to sit on the floor next to him, finally giving yourself a break from the chaos upstairs. “I needed to get away from everything. JJ's out of control, everyone’s on edge, and it’s just—it's all a lot.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, shifting a bit to get more comfortable despite his tied-up position. “Sounds like a mess,” he said, a glint in his eyes. “But not surprising. I’d be losing it, too, if I were up there. Though, you don’t seem the type to lose it.”

You exhaled, glancing away. “I don’t know, sometimes I think I'm just about at my limit. It feels like I’m the only one who, I don’t know, tries to keep it all together by being civil.”

Rafe smirked slightly, his gaze unwavering. “You don’t have to, you know. Keep it together all the time,” he murmured, his voice taking on an edge. “Sometimes, you just need to let off some steam.” His voice dropped, a bit huskier. “Maybe even relax a little.” His eyes locked onto yours, and you felt your pulse quicken.

You frowned, glancing at his wrists, still bound. “Rafe…”

“Come on,” he coaxed, his tone almost too smooth. “Untie me. I’m not going to hurt you.” He held your gaze with an intensity that made you falter. “Let me help you relax.”

Hesitating, you chewed on your lip. There was something, different about him right now, and you couldn’t quite pin point it. But, against your better judgment, you reached forward and undid the ropes around his wrists, slowly freeing him.

Before you could process what was happening, his hands were on you, and he pulled you in close, pressing his lips to yours. The kiss was both rough and gentle, catching you completely off-guard. You melted into it, the tension you’d been carrying washing away under his touch. Your mind went blank, and you felt yourself leaning in closer, craving the connection.

“You’re so needy,” he murmured against your lips, “So naughty for letting me loose like this.”

Flustered, you pulled back slightly, breathless. “Rafe…”

He only smirked, his fingers trailing along your jaw. “It’s alright,” he whispered, holding your gaze with a soft, challenging glint. “Now that I’m out, maybe I can return the favor and help you feel a little better.”

You slowly nodded. You couldn’t deny the way he was making you feel.

Rafe’s hands moved slowly over your bare stomach, his fingers tracing delicate patterns across your skin, sending shivers up your spine. His gaze flicked up to meet yours, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “So responsive,” he murmured, watching your breath hitch as his hands continued their slow exploration.

Your cheeks warmed under his gaze, feeling vulnerable but completely unable to pull away. Rafe’s fingers hooked under the waistband of your skirt, and with a quiet confidence, he slipped it and your thong off, leaving you feeling even more exposed. He let out a quiet chuckle, his hands never leaving your skin.

When he pulled off his own shirt, his eyes never left yours, and then he moved closer, his presence between your legs grounding you in the moment. “Trust me,” he whispered, voice low as he leaned in, and before you could fully process the warmth of his breath, he began to press soft, deliberate kisses along your inner thigh, drawing a gasp from you.

“You’re so—” you managed, words slipping away as he looked up at you with that familiar smirk, his gaze unrelenting.

“So what?” he teased, “I haven’t even started.”

Your breath grew shallow, anticipation building as his hands traced along your hips, grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected.

His mouth attached to your clit and it sent a spark through you, his touch patient yet undeniably intent, and you couldn’t help but give in to the sensation, letting yourself relax under his steady hands. His tongue was precise, lapping up every part of your pussy that was soaked with your juices.

“Don’t hold back now,” he murmured. His constant sucking and flicking over your clit made your orgasm wash over you, leaving you completely captivated, and all you could do was let yourself melt into the moment, trusting him entirely.

“I’d say you were my good girl and you are but fuck, you’re such a slut just letting me make you cum like this, I thought you and your friends didn’t trust me?” he chuckled, sitting up til he was beside you. You buried your face into his chest, embarrassed that he was right.

“Oh that’s okay baby, don’t be embarrassed,” he laughed, “you know what would make it all better? Me doing to you what they did to me.”

Your head shot up, confusion etched across your face.

“Not like that baby, you’d be willing wouldn’t you? Would you let me tie you up and use you? Gonna be a good girl for me?” he asked huskily.

Slowly, you nodded. You couldn’t deny his words made you throb. You’d let this man do anything to you. He smirked at your obedience and took up the rope, beginning to tie you in the same position he was before. The rope was tied firmly, but not firm enough to hurt or bruise you.

“Is that okay baby? You like being all tied up for me?”

“Y-yes Rafe,” you muttered, eyes big and full of need.

He slipped down his boxers and your eyes went wider, gasping at the size of him. He was so thick and leaking for you. You needed a taste.

“Open up that whore mouth,” he growled.

Immediately, you did what was told and he shoved his cock straight to the back of your throat making you gag.

“Breathe baby, breathe, I know you can take it, you seem like you’d be such a good cock sucker.”

You wanted to prove him right, you wanted to be exactly what he thought of you. As he slowly thrusted into your mouth, your tongue went to work, swirling over the base and the tip, getting it as sloppy as you could. He moaned deeply above you, as his thrusts grew faster, your lips suctioned around him, making the sweetest little sounds.

You would’ve played with his balls if your hands weren’t tied and so, you leaned your head down, slurping and sucking on his balls as he threw his head back and shivered.

“Fuck, I knew you could do it, I knew you were a little whore, what a fucking mouth.” He slipped back into your mouth, his hands now going to your curls as he held you down on his cock, but before he could shoot his load down your throat, he pulled out.

“I know you’d swallow every last drop of my cum like the whore you are but I’d rather your pussy swallow it,” he chucked.

Heat rose in your cheeks as you thought about him filling you up. You weren’t on any form of birth control and you knew for a fact him or anyone on the ship did not have a condom in their possession. He’d definitely get you pregnant, just like his sister was at the moment. Ironic.

“Now, I have an idea.” You looked up at him curiously then gasped as he lifted your lower body, your hands in a slight awkward position as he held you up to fuck you mid air.

“Think you can take it— oh who am I kidding, you’re going to fucking take it,” he muttered, rubbing the leaking tip of his cock up and down your pussy lips.

“Your pussy is so wet and pretty, so happy you just gave it up to me.” You both moaned in unison as his cock slowly penetrated you. In that moment you partially wished your hands weren’t tied so you could’ve placed it on his abdomen, halting him from any further movements.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he moaned. Your eyes squeezed shut as he began pounding into you, your tits spilling out of the skimpy top you had on. His cock was deep inside you due to the angle, the feeling making your pussy quiver.

“Who’s making you feel this good huh?” he asked, his hands squeezing your hips harshly.

“You are Rafe, you,” you cried out. Your friends had definitely heard your screams.

“Good girl, trust me now?” he chuckled, breathlessly.

“Yes Rafe, I trust you. Faster, please,” you pleaded.

His rough thrusts sped up and the sound of your sloppy pussy and your loud moans filled the bathroom, possibly alerting your friends above.

“I need to feel you cum on my cock baby, you can do it,” he urged.

He went faster and deeper, hitting that spongy spot inside you to draw the orgasm out. Before long, you screamed his name, your pussy squirting all over the bathroom walls as he continued fucking you through your high, pulling everything out of you.

“You’re so fucking hot, good girl,” he cooed.

He began chasing his own orgasm, his hand wrapping around your neck and his other skillfully holding under you as his thrusts grew more sloppy.

“Clench around me baby, I’m gonna pump this sweet pussy full of my cum. Gonna get you fucking pregnant, have you carry my babies inside this sexy body.”

You couldn’t protest even if you wanted to and your walls clamped around him, milking him of every ounce of his cum as he slammed into you. His thrusts grew slower and slower and he held you with one hand, the other unbinding your hands and when he did, he held you close to him, his cock still deep inside your pussy.

You both shivered under each other’s touch, panting slowly subsiding.

You shifted off him, the feeling of his big cock slipping out of you making you wince and whimper at the loss and you sat beside him.

“You look so beautiful and relaxed,” he smirked, pushing your curls behind your ear.

“Well you were right, you could help me relax,” you giggled.

“I’m always right. I meant what I said by the way, you’re gonna carry my babies inside that sexy fucking body,” he smirked, rubbing your stomach.

Before you could respond, there was a pounding on the door, it was your best friend.

“Y/N, what’s all that noise? What’s going on in there?” Cleo called out.

[kamaluhkhan]

ONCE BITTEN, TWICE SHY

pairing: vi x fem!reader word count: 10.5k summary: after years away, vi returns home for the holidays and reunites with you, her ex-girlfriend. the universe (*cough cough* and your meddling families) push you together again, and neither of you can ignore the feelings that linger. (or: you, vi, and the ghosts of christmas past, present and future.) warnings: reader is ekko's older sister but not necessarily biological so appearance isn't specified; childhood friends to lovers + second chance romance; reader gets hit on by a creepy guy + gets into a fight (injury + blood mention), smut [strap mention (reader receiving), oral (both receiving), fingering (both receiving), biting, spitting, tribbing, sub!vi makes an appearance...kinda rough + possessive sex but there's aftercare too <33] (18+) ! a/n: HAPPY NEW YEAR GIRLS AND GAYS <33 tbh i debated whether to post this now bc xmas was like....3 weeks ago but figured i might as well. so pls enjoy what is essentially an x-rated sapphic hallmark holiday movie.

♪: ‘tis the damn season by taylor swift (sun); winterbreak by MUNA (moon); last christmas by wham! (rising)

track 1: thank god it’s christmas by queen

(winter — age 17)

“okay, just relax your fingers — no, but keep some tension, apply a bit of pressure on the string….yep, that’s better. now, straighten your back….”

it’s dark and snowing outside, and the cold’s seeping in through the window of her attic bedroom, but vi still almost melts into the floor when you follow her advice and press against her chest. she worries that you can feel how fast her heart is beating — faster than it maybe should for someone she’d been calling friend ever since she could remember. 

you shift in her lap, her arms still wrapped around yours from when she offered to guide you through an instrumental version of wham’s “last christmas.” you tilt your head towards her, nose almost brushing against hers. 

“vi?”

“....yes?”

“maybe we should finish our lesson another time. we better hurry up, anyways. i bet ekko and powder are already arguing over whether we should watch home alone or home alone two.”

vi snorts. it’s practically a tradition at this point, along with the annual post-christmas-dinner pyjama movie night.

you try to hand her the bright pink guitar pick, but vi shakes her head.

“it’s yours. you’re gonna need it if you want more lessons.” 

“hm, or maybe i could sell it for a billion dollars once you’re a big rockstar,” you tease. “i can picture thousands of fangirls painting your portrait and writing mrs. violet lanes in their notebooks.” 

you get up, shoot her a wink, and leave vi on the bed, clutching her guitar and trying to get her pulse under control. 

neither of you say anything as you both get changed. the stereo plays the mixtape you’d made for her — you got her for secret santa this year.

“my mom loved this song,” vi hums, a warm ache growing in her chest when the next song plays. this is the second christmas without her, but vi is still not used to using past tense. “she thought freddie mercury was the best rockstar of all time.”

“i remember. you…you must miss her.” 

of course she does, and she could run through a million reasons why.

“vander says you’ll be spending new year’s at your dad’s,” is what she says instead.

you let out something between a scoff and a laugh. “yeah.”

“your mom going, too?”

“just me and ekko. i swear, it’s like he’s trying to be this perfect dad to his new stepkids, meanwhile he’s the one who left us here to deal with his mess, the one who just ran away, and….whatever.” this time, you do scoff. “hey – do you have a shirt i could borrow?”

vi looks over to find that you’ve switched from the velvet dress you wore during dinner into a pair of flannel plaid pants; her cheeks flush when she sees that you’re only wearing a black lacy bralette on top. 

she clears her throat and pulls a clean jersey from her dresser, tosses it over to you. 

“that’s a shame. i was looking forward to spending new year’s eve together.”

you hum and slip the shirt over your shoulders. the only sources of light are the moon and the stars and the multicoloured christmas lights strung along vi’s walls, but she swore that your eyes flick down to her lips. 

“why’s that?” you ask. 

there’s something absolutely dizzying about being this close to you, the way your sparkly eyes wait patiently for her to respond. joni mitchell sings about skating away on a river, and vi wishes she could skate away from this conversation, but there’s nowhere to go. 

vi blinks away from your gaze and fixates on one of the many things she’s pinned up on her bedroom walls throughout the years. it’s a page torn from an old notebook of yours, something from seventh grade math class, but vi always loved your little drawings in the margins. 

vi?” you prompt, never one to let go easily.

“i want to kiss you at midnight,” she confesses.

“yeah?” 

vi nods. she’s tempted to walk out of her room, down the stairs and out into the winter night, until you weave your fingers through hers and squeeze her hand. she looks up — and you’re beaming, a smile that brightens vi’s entire being. 

“i want that too.”

vi finally, finally crashes her mouth onto yours, lips sticky with marshmallow fluff.

you taste like vanilla and gingerbread and hot chocolate that is definitely not spiked with irish cream that vi slipped into your mugs while you distracted the adults. 

you taste like home.

….

so, slight change of plans….i’m gonna stay here in london with the rest of the band. apparently the kirammans throw a super fancy holiday party with super fancy people every year, and cait convinced her parents to let us perform. fingers crossed someone important discovers us.

merry christmas, baby. and, if i don’t get the chance to say it: happy new year.

….

track 2: winter wonderland by darlene love

(winter — age 12)

you’re supposed to be looking after ekko while your parents are at work, but all that really means is making a big bowl of kraft dinner and stove-top s’mores for lunch and watching old christmas specials on the worn-out living room couch while you draw in your sketchbook and your brother, only 7 years old, programs the doorbell to play ‘jingle bells.’ 

when someone rings the doorbell, the tune floats through the house and wakes up your dog who starts barking like it’s the end of the world. 

“easy, ziggy.” you click a marker closed and run a hand through the husky’s fur, attempting to calm him down. “let’s go see who it is.”

you open the door, and there’s vi: snowflakes sparkling on her eyelashes, pink hair hidden under a knitted hat, and a toothy grin that brings out the dimple in her flushed cheeks. she’s also got a split lip and crooked nose from her last hockey game.

“we’re building a fort,” she tells you. she shuffles to the side so that you can see powder, who’s making a snow angel. “well, we’re going to. wanna join?”

you nod, smiling. “ekko!” 

your brother’s already behind you, slipping on his chunky boots and oversized coat that used to be yours before running outside and collapsing onto the fluffy snow next to powder. ziggy bolts outside, too, running circles around them. 

you stumble to get your winter gear on as fast as possible, the cold air rushing inside your front hallway as vi waits for you, kicking her snowy boot against the concrete entryway step. not even a heartbeat after shutting the door behind you, vi takes your gloved hand in hers and pulls you forward, the two of you a flurry of laughter.

…..

hey, pretty girl. i was at this party and one of your songs came on! every time i hear it, i’m in awe of how amazing it is….how amazing you are. i’m basically walking home in a snowstorm, so i’m gonna go before my fingers freeze off, but i just wanted to say that i’m so proud of my rockstar girlfriend.

i was also wondering: are you coming home any time soon? the holidays are coming up, and i really miss you. we all do.  

…..

track 3: last christmas by wham!

(winter — now)

vi should have learned from sonic youth and fleetwood mac: 

no sex or romance between bandmates. it never ends well.

it was bad enough giving into the rumors and fooling around with cait, but it’s another layer of messiness now that cait and maddie dating. meanwhile, cait is very much still bitter towards vi, vi is very much pining after someone whom she’s pretty sure never wants to see her again, and steb and lorris are very much caught in the middle. it’s no wonder the band’s manager suggested everyone take some time apart to ease the tension. frankly, while others protested, vi was almost relieved at the suggestion.

so cait’s off to london, maddie’s off to glasgow, the boys are going god knows where, and vi —

vi’s heading back home, back to you.

she wakes up in the bed of her childhood for the first time in a long time. her dad put on fresh sheets, but they’re still the same ones from back then — worn flannel with cartoon penguins. it takes a lot of willpower to untangle herself from the warmth and cloud-like softness, but eventually she heads downstairs to the kitchen.

powder still has exams so she’s not home from college until tomorrow, and vander’s gone to work. it’s just vi in her too-small christmas pyjamas (she has yet to unpack), eating a box of stale cinnamon pop-tarts for breakfast even though it’s well past noon. curiosity gets the best of her, so she peers through the window to see if anyone is next door.

your mom’s car is in the driveway, completely snowed in. there had only been a dusting of snow while vi was devouring the first pastry, but four pop-tarts in and it’s about doubled. she waits until the snow stops falling; with nothing better to do and a sugar rush to burn off, vi pulls on her old winter coat and snow boots she hasn’t worn since she was 18, grabs a shovel from the garage, and gets to work. 

it doesn’t take her long to clear the driveway, and she has some adrenaline to spare, so she decides to be a good neighbor. 

vi’s heaving one last shovelful of snow over her shoulder when she hears:

“violet? is that you?” 

she turns around. and, okay the first thing she registers is ziggy running towards her, the husky toppling her over into the snow.

“i missed you too, zig,” vi laughs. 

she gets up as ziggy’s still bounding around in the snow, and sees your mom standing in the doorway, looking a little more tired and a little more gray. but the smile on her face when she sees that it is, in fact, vi — it’s so bright that the snow might not exactly melt away, but the years sure do. 

vi remembers making snow angels with you while your moms gossiped over tea, how the two of you would stomp inside with a mess of slush and snow while laughter echoed from the living room. vi remembers your mom keeping a comforting arm around her shoulder through her mom’s funeral while you held her hand. she remembers your mom helping her pick out the perfect corsage to match your suit at prom, making a joke about how next time it might be an engagement ring, and telling vi how proud her mother would have been of her at your high school graduation party. 

with the golden glow of nostalgia comes a crashing wave of guilt at what vi said to you last time you spoke. 

“come inside, sweetheart. i’ll make you some hot cocoa as a thank you.”

vi is tempted to reject the offer, but your mom looks so hopeful and vi’s fingers are about to freeze off, anyways. 

so your mom makes hot cocoa as vi defrosts, the two of them chatting in the familiar yellow kitchen that you and vi once almost burnt down while trying to bake a cake for powder’s birthday. even the magnets and paper memories decorating the fridge are the same, with the addition of an article about vi’s band that was featured in the rolling stone, pinned up by a ceramic cow. 

“she’s an art teacher now,” your mom tells vi after giving an update on ekko. she glances at the oven clock. “speaking of which — i know you just finished shoveling our driveway, but do you mind helping me with another favor?”

“after the world’s best hot chocolate? anything.”

“i told my daughter that i’d pick her up from work, and i’m wondering if you would be able to take care of that.” your mom smiles. “i’m sensing a bad migraine coming on.”

the last sip of hot chocolate trickles down vi’s throat like cement. she knew she’d be seeing you, but didn’t quite plan for how that….reunion might go.

“of course,” vi says. 

vi puts both of their mugs in the dishwasher, about to grab the car keys from the hook by the door when your mom calls out: 

“oh, and violet?” vi turns around. “i’m so glad you’re home.”

you’re talking to a student when vi enters the art room of your old high school. nothing else in the building had changed — same boring concrete, same scratched up lockers, same graffiti immortalizing whom hooked up with whom. this room is the exception, vibrant with how students’ art is displayed all around, paintings and drawings and collages, and you’ve strung up multicolored christmas lights that give the whole space a cozy ambiance. you look the part of a cool, young art teacher: wearing a simple dark purple turtleneck tucked into black jeans and the same combat boots you’ve had since tenth grade, paint stains on your skin that is exposed by rolled up sleeves, and a marker behind your ear. you’re standing in front of an easel, talking to the student who happens to notice vi before you do.

“holy shit. is that violet lanes?”

vi watches as your face scrunches up in confusion, and then falls into shock when you see her standing there.

“it seems that it is violet lanes,” you state coolly while the student squeals. “what are you doing here?”

“oh, i, uh,” vi clears her throat, her palms sweaty. why is her body reacting like she’s a teenager about to ask out her crush for the first time? “your mom wasn’t feeling great, asked if i could pick you up from work.”

“you guys are friends?” the student asks, eyes wide as they flick between you and vi. 

“we used to date, actually,” vi clarifies. wrong move, she realizes, because you can’t help but glare at her.

“oh my god.” the student squeals again and reaches in their pocket to whip out their phone. “i need to tell alyssa that ms. l/n was in a relationship with the violet lanes. are you guys gonna get back together? oh my god, have you come to win her back —”

“layla,” you clip, and by the furrow of layla’s brow, it seems like you’re not usually so stern. you smile at layla, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “you’ve done some great work today, but you’ll have to finish this when we’re back from winter break. do you mind giving ms. lanes and i a minute?”

layla nods once, gathers her things. when she walks past vi, she can’t help but ask for an autograph. vi complies, of course, even lets her take a selfie. a fan is a fan, after all.

and, quite frankly this is the only part of being in the band that she still enjoys: hearing how excited young girls are at the music she writes, the music that vi wished she had growing up, about girls liking girls, about girls falling in and out of love with each other. everything else is just an occupational hazard that vi’s getting more and more fed up with. 

when vi turns her attention back to you, you’re finished putting all the material away, wiping your hands with an already paint-stained towel.

“i meant what you’re doing back in town,” you explain, not quite meeting vi’s eyes. you pack away some books and your laptop into a supple leather briefcase, and slip on your coat. vi’s cheeks flush when you catch her watching you. 

“it…it doesn’t matter. i’m here for a while, though.” 

you sigh. “okay.” and you don’t say anything more. vi keeps up with you as you switch off the lights, lock the door, and stride to the parking lot in silence. when you get to the car, you extend your hand.

“i’m driving,” you say, gesturing at her to give you the keys. “we both know that you’re a terrible driver.”

“i’m not a terrible driver,” vi guffaws. 

“says the lesbian who gives the rest of us a bad name,” you quip, a hint of a smile dancing across your lips, like the first bout of sun after a winter storm. “c’mon, pretty girl. i’m not giving up, so unless you wanna freeze to death….” 

the nickname slips effortlessly from your tongue, so much so that you don’t even seem to realize it, but vi’s breath hitches and she’s more than happy to fold to your every whim if it means hearing you call her pretty one more time. 

“so….” vi glances over at you from the passenger seat. a snowy landscape passes outside the window, and you tap on the steering wheel to a generic christmas song that plays through the stereo. “you’re teaching high school now?” 

she wonders if you remember the last fight you had, almost two years ago to the day.

you keep your eyes on the road. “yeah. guess i graduated from finger-painting with kindergarteners.”

vi feels her cheeks heat up all over again. 

so, you do remember. 

she wonders if you’ve replayed it over and over again and hoped for a different ending like she did. she should have thought more about what to actually say to you —

“you know, i never understood why you liked this song so much,” you suddenly say when the radio starts playing dolly parton’s cover of ‘i’ll be home for christmas.’ 

vi can read between the lines, but she’s waiting for you to point out the irony in her preference for a song that’s about someone wanting to go home for christmas, something vi has deliberately avoided at all costs these past few years. 

“it just seems kinda sad,” you continue. 

“you love ‘last christmas,’ and that one’s pretty sad,” vi points out.

“sure, but it ends hopefully.”

“oh?” vi tilts her head towards you. “how’d you figure? 

“sure, it’s someone singing about heartbreak and how much it sucks during christmastime, but then there’s this hope that they still find true love down the line. it’s a maybe that isn’t hopeless.” you shrug. “meanwhile, your song ends with the lyric ‘if only in my dreams,’ which just seems too accepting of the fact that going home for christmas, being with the person they love — it might just be a dream.”

“i don’t know. some dreams do come true,” vi muses. 

by now, you’ve made it home. you put the car in park but keep the engine going, presumably to avoid becoming icicles. neither of you make a move to leave. 

you glance over at vi. “your dreams sure came true, ms. violet lanes,” you joke, but there’s an air of sadness to it.

“not all of them.”

“yeah? which ones haven’t?”

vi swallows the lump in her throat and hopes that you understand the look in her eyes. “let’s just say i’m working on them.”

you blink away and cut the engine.

….

you’re still dealing with the shock of seeing vi back in town when your brother, freshly home from college, suggests going skating. 

he can be fairly convincing, especially when he mentions that it’s a christmas season tradition, so, you prepare for what is essentially a double date with your brother, his girlfriend/your ex-girlfriend’s sister, and your ex-girlfriend, with isha as a fifth wheel.

should be fun. 

it turns out, despite all her past hockey experience, vi really cannot skate. in fact, skating seems to be the complete opposite of riding a bike: she’s terrible at it after years off the ice, essentially reenacting that scene from bambi. it’s easier to ignore vi’s presence when she’s sitting next to the snack bar, by herself, but then powder skates up next to you and asks if you’d be kind enough to please help her sister have a good time. you roll your eyes at her shit-eating grin, but it is a bit sad, watching vi on the sidelines. she’s wearing a beanie and a pair of sunglasses to hide her identity, and now she kinda looks like a divorced dad watching his grown kids pass him by while he’s stuck in a midlife crisis.

you convince vi to give skating another shot — it’s tradition after all — and pull her out onto the rink. you start by holding her from behind, keeping her hips steady until she gets the hang of it. you try to let go, but vi stumbles and reaches out for your gloved hand, and you melt into the familiarity of her fingers curled around yours. the two of you fall into a comfortable rhythm, first with you pulling vi along, then with her taking the lead, until vi almost knocks into a small child.

“see what i mean by you being a bad driver?” you jest, successfully maneuvering to avoid collision. 

then, you follow where vi’s eyes have settled — on powder and isha laughing and chasing each other around the rink. vi had asked earlier when isha had dyed her hair blue; you still have some residue under your nails from last weekend, when powder came for a study break and the three of you ended up helping isha achieve a new look she’d apparently been itching to try. 

“you know powder’s graduating this year?” 

“she overloaded her credits so she could get out of there as soon as possible,” you explain, having had many conversations with powder leading up to the decision. 

vi nods, her jaw clenched. you already know what she’s thinking, and frankly, you agree: that vi hasn’t been here, literally and figuratively. you also feel the warmth of vi’s skin radiating through her glove to yours, notice the slight flush to her freckled cheeks, how chapped her lips are from the cold, so much so that you’re tempted to share the vanilla chapstick you’ve got on your own lips, to kiss her deeply like you did last time you were here, together.

it’s only been three days since vi’s been back home. this is only the second time you’ve seen her, and you’re already falling back into old patterns, tempted to ask her to stay, to try again, even though you already know the answer.

except….not staying isn’t the deal breaker it used to be, so maybe trying again isn’t as hopeless as you think it is.

vi squeezes your hand, and you realize that you’ve stopped skating entirely. 

“hey. you still with me?”

you nod, decide to enjoy this moment for as long as you can, and the two of you glide across the ice.

…..

when you suggest making stove-top s’mores, it’s another item on the list of things she’d missed. 

a list that’s been growing a lot these past few days.

vi offers to make more once you’ve all run out, and ekko follows her into their kitchen while you, powder, and isha keep watching christmas specials in the living room. she turns on the gas stove, stabs a marshmallow through a wooden skewer and waits for it to roast — and, for ekko to say something.

“i don’t know what happened between you and my sister, but i need you to promise me that the tabloids aren’t true. that you and that kiramman chick didn’t hook up…at least until after y’all broke up.” 

“or, what, you’re gonna challenge me to an arm wrestle? think you can finally beat me?”

“oh, i know it.”

a pause. the marshmallow catches on fire and vi blows on it to quell the damage.

“i didn’t cheat on her.” she throws out the burnt marshmallow and gives it another shot. “i would never. does….does she think i did?”

ekko shrugs. “not sure. some of those articles are pretty convincing. but, since you’re promising me that you didn’t…”

“i didn’t.”

“then that saves me from kicking your ass.” ekko nods once and uncrosses his arms, handing vi some graham crackers and chocolate. “actually, i could use your help with something.”

“sure.”

“she applied to this great art residency in new york, like, on whim. the only people she’s told are me, powder, and vander….i think she’s nervous to tell mom, at least until she knows for sure she’s gotten in, but this is the most excited i’ve seen her be about something in a while, and she worked really hard on her application…” 

“i’m sure she did,” vi states. “what do you need my help with?”

“convincing her to go.” 

“i’d love to help, but i’m not sure i’m someone she’d wanna hear from, especially about this. she was never a fan of me leaving to pursue my dreams.”

“she was never a fan of you leaving,” ekko corrects. “she’s still a fan of you pursuing your dreams.” he juts his chin out at the article stuck to the fridge. 

vi had just assumed that your mom had pinned that up.

“okay.” vi says. “i’ll talk to her.” 

a plateful of semi-burnt s’mores later, and vi and ekko return to the living room with the rest of you. 

vi forgot how nice this felt, all of you cuddled on the couch, ziggy included, watching how the grinch stole christmas. she half expects her mom to walk in through the door without even knocking, shake the snow off her hair, and hold up a batch of pre-baked gingerbread people she’d gotten for the kids to decorate.

but that’s not happening. other than isha, none of you are kids anymore and things can never be the same.

and yet — you glance over at vi and give her a sticky marshmallow smile, and she feels her heart grow three sizes.

….

baby, i swear it’s not what it looks like. the record label thought it would be good promo to get a picture of me kissing under the mistletoe…’tis the season and all that…..cait and i were both really drunk and things got a bit out of hand….but it looks worse than it is. i swear on my mother’s grave that nothing happened.

please call me back, baby…..i’m so fucking sorry….please. 

it’s not christmas without at least hearing your voice. 

….

track 4: river by joni mitchell

(winter — age 23)

it’s hard to believe that hours ago, you were kissing vi backstage and showering her with praise after the concert. she was happy to indulge in your excitement, even though she was all sweaty and her ears were still ringing from the crowd. 

more than happy, in fact. phone sex can only go so far, and it’d been too long since vi had seen you writhe and heard you whimper for her firsthand. 

“i missed you so fucking much,” you groan, tightening your grip on vi’s hair. it’s now an inky black instead of fuschia — the band’s starting to lean more punk rock. 

a particularly hard thrust is her way of telling you that she missed you too. so fucking much. she throws your legs over her shoulders, pushing the strap deeper inside you and digging her knees into the mattress as she coaxes you through another orgasm. you pull her down for one last searing kiss, your tongue searching each crevice of her mouth. 

“i can’t believe you’re here,” vi continues a few moments later, after you’re both cleaned up and getting dressed. she wants to add something along the lines of i love you, but she bites back the sentiment. she’ll save that sappy shit for later tonight, when she finally gets down on one knee for you. 

you glance back at her from where you’re pulling out a sparkly silver dress from your side of the closet (and isn’t that such a slip of the mind? your side, as if it’s a shared closet and a shared bedroom and a shared home; if she thought about it more, though, she would realize that, though she has no problem asking you to marry her, she’s still terrified at the thought of staying in one place for more than a few months).

“me neither,” you smile. 

vi walks over to you, presses her half-dressed body against your lingerie-clad form (vi’s sure you wore this fuschia set just to drive her insane; it’s working). she lodges her hand behind your ear and pulls you in closer, kisses you deeply because you’re here and she missed you so fucking much and she’s so ready to make you her wife.

she could write a whole record just about the taste of your lips: the sweetness of vanilla chapstick, the saltiness of sweat and the headiness lingering from the wetness you lapped up from between her legs.

you pull away first. vi tries not to stare at how your chest heaves, your breasts straining against intricate lace. 

“we, um.” you clear your throat. you slip your hand underneath vi’s blazer, and she groans when you make contact with the exposed, burning skin of her abdomen. vi thinks you’re about to suggest another round, or two, or ten, but instead you untangle yourself from her and say: “we should probably get ready.”

the after party is going well. the club’s busy, the music’s good, and the drinks are flowing.

you seem to be having a great time until someone (probably cait or maddie, on cait’s behalf) lets it slip that the band’s heading to london later in the month to start recording their new album before the end of the year….something vi decidedly did not want to tell you until later tonight, after the high of the proposal, after she’s promised you that she’s dedicated to this relationship, that she’s always been dedicated to you. 

instead, vi’s trailing behind you as you angrily stomp towards the bathroom, her mind scrambling to come up with a way out of this argument.

there’s a line, but you cut in front and slip inside as soon as someone walks out. 

“wait, what the fu —”

you slam the door and lock it behind you once you’re both inside, ignoring the subsequent banging and jiggling of the handle.

“please, baby, let me explain —”

“i can’t fucking believe you,” your voice is steady, measured, and for some reason that makes vi even more nervous. “you give empty promise after empty promise that you’ll be more present, but something always gets in the way, is always more important than —”

“don’t you dare say that you’re not important to me. i offer to fly you out anywhere to be with me, but you’ve only taken me up on the offer once. twice, now.”

“it’s been five years, vi. five years of us staying together because….god, at this point i don’t even know why — ”

“do you not understand how much i love you?” vi raises her voice over the sound of the club music outside. “i was gonna propose tonight.”

you stare at her, then start to laugh.

“please tell me you’re joking.”

“i’m not.”

“if you think marriage will save us, then you’re delusional. what was your plan — call me your wife while we’re thousands of miles apart, but not even have the time to answer my calls? we’re barely in a relationship now, vi. all that’s left between us are missed calls and voicemails —” 

“oh that’s really all that’s left between us?” 

“i love you, violet. i have since we were kids. but, now, there’s also all this — the parties, the crowds, the fame….you’ve gone all over the world, and you can’t even be bothered to visit your family during the holidays.”

“well i’m sorry that my ambitions are bigger than that nothing town we grew up in,” vi snaps. “i can’t believe you’re throwing a tantrum because i’m not making it home for christmas. for what? so we can all reminisce by the fireplace, pretend that we can be kids again, even though things can —” vi chokes back a sob, soothes it with a healthy dose of anger. “things can never be the same. you need to grow the fuck up.”

“maybe you should be the one to grow up!” you finally yell. “convincing yourself that this relationship is working, meanwhile you’re running away from everything and everyone you grew up with because it reminds you of your —”

“at least i’m not afraid to actually go after my dreams,” vi cuts you off before you can finish that sentence, uses the broken shards of your words against you. “don’t you want more for your life than finger-painting with a bunch of kindergarteners? you’re gonna end up just like your deadbeat mom, going nowhere, drinking yourself to sleep, all alone, with nothing to show for the life you’ve lived.”

as soon as the words leave her mouth, vi wishes she could take them back. you don’t bother swallowing your tears, letting them rush down your cheeks. vi digs her nails into her palms to prevent herself from reaching out and wiping them. it wouldn’t make sense, anyways. she’s the reason you’re crying. 

you take a deep, shaky breath.

“yeah, well, i’m glad that your mom isn’t alive to see what a selfish asshole you’ve become.” there’s a pause, and vi feels her stomach turn at your casual cruelty, your quiet anger. “i’m gonna pack up my stuff and catch the first flight out of here. merry fucking christmas and happy fucking new year. have a nice life.”

vi screams and throws the velvet box against the door you’ve slammed shut behind you. the hot tears that were building in her throat finally boil over. the engagement ring clatters onto the floor.

…..

vi? it’s me. not sure if you’ve blocked my number. i wouldn’t blame you. i know it’s been, like, a year, but it feels weird not hearing your voice for this long, especially around the holidays. well, i guess i could just turn on the radio….it’s not the same, though. anyways, merry christmas. happy new year, too. and….and i’m sorry. 

please come home.

…..

track 5: i’ll be home for christmas by dolly parton 

(winter — now)

karaoke at the last drop used to be one of vi’s favorite christmas traditions, so you decidedly avoided it at all cost since the breakup. vander always tried to convince you to join, but he understood and even made sure to not give you a shift during that time after you started working there at 21. 

you kept the job because, evidently, high school art teachers don’t make a ton of money, and you would one day like to move out of your mother’s house. 

which, as it turns out, might happen sooner rather than later. you applied for this artist residency in new york, and, yeah, you put time and effort and heart into your application, but you were sure that you’d be rejected. while you got your acceptance email this morning, and you were so fucking overjoyed at first, the thought of leaving still terrifies you, so you’ll postpone worrying about that until after the holidays. that’s what they’re for, anyways: a break from reality, a peek into a cozy snow-covered world where everyone is festive and joyous and worry-free.   

right now though, you’re feeling neither festive nor joyous. gert called in sick, and no one else is able to cover for them, so you’re stuck at the last drop on christmas eve, listening to one of your old high school classmates drunkenly fumble the lyrics of darlene love’s ‘christmas (baby, please come home).’

about three verses in, vi walks into the bar with mylo and claggor, flakes of fluffy snow melting into her grayish pink hair. you’re already pouring their drinks before they reach the counter. mylo and claggor offer their sincere appreciation, chattering away as they leave to snag a booth in the corner. vi stares at her drink before grabbing the beer glass. 

“you remember.” 

“are you surprised?”

vi smiles. “no. it’s just nice. cait keeps insisting i order gin martinis instead. says it’s classier.” 

something sour curdles in your stomach. “yeah, well. i’ve always liked you the way you are.”

that probably ended up sounding like you’re still pining after vi (which you’re….not) rather than the bitter comment you intended it to be. 

vi’s soft blue eyes search yours. 

“i better get back to the boys,” she finally says. “maybe sign up for a song or two.”

you’re busy clearing a table when you hear her voice again. actually — a silence fills the bar, and it’s replaced by the lush rumble of vi singing ‘last christmas.’

you watch her as she performs, eyes locked on yours, and it’s over before you know it. you feel like you should go say something to her, but then there are a bunch of excited fans that she has to attend to, signing autographs, taking photos.

as you swallow your disappointment, the normal chatter of the bar resumes. you’re walking back to the kitchen when you feel someone pinch the back of your thigh, right under your ass. you whip around to find that old classmate who butchered a christmas classic an hour or so before (james, you think his name is, from ninth grade science), with the most arrogant smirk.

“hey, gorgeous. my friends and i were just arguing over who should take you home tonight.” he gestures towards a table of guys who look like equally preppy assholes. “i won the chugging contest.”

“good for you,” you say, balancing a tray of empty glasses. “grope someone in here again, and you’ll be sorry you did.” you turn around to get back to work, but james grabs your wrist and stands up abruptly so you’re chest-to-chest.

“i don’t think you understand what i’m offering, baby.” you gag at the nickname and the stench of beer on his breath. you’re a bartender, you’re used to getting hit on, but creeps like this are the worst.

you rip away from his grasp. 

“i’m not interested,” you snap. “and i’m not your baby.”

“listen.” james puts his hands on your shoulders, and if both of your hands were free, you would promptly push him away. everyone’s having a good time and you don’t wanna cause a scene, so you try to think of ways to get this asshole out of the bar and into the snow without much of a fight. “you know, santa might come down your chimney on christmas eve, but if you’ve been a good girl this year i’ll come down your —” 

“there you are!” powder’s voice is loud over the sound of someone singing another generic christmas carol. she knocks into your side, breathless. “sorry we’re late. had some car trouble.”

“well, hello.” he removes his hands from your shoulders, shifts his predatory gaze from you to powder. 

oh, fuck no.

“powder,” you keep your voice steady even if your heart is racing. “go back to the table. i’ll be there in a sec.”

james reaches out for powder, but you punch him square in the jaw before he can so much as touch her, the tray of glasses crashing on the floor. 

james’ flirtatious smile is long gone, replaced with the kind of anger only egotistical, self-important jerks have when they don’t get what they want and they’ve taken a blow to their ego. 

in fact, he’s angry enough to deliver a punch right back to your face.

you hear a crack upon impact, and pain radiates from your nose. you stumble, but powder manages to catch you before you tumble into the broken glass. she holds you as people start yelling. you think that vander rushes over, too, shouting at james to get the fuck out of his bar and never step foot in it again. 

you lick your lips, tasting blood. your ears are ringing, and everything is all a bit fuzzy. powder tries her best, but you slump your body weight into hers and she almost topples over.

“i’ve got her.” vi’s surprisingly calm voice cuts through the chaos. you feel a strong, familiar arm wrap around your waist to steady you. 

somehow, you find yourself in the bathroom, sitting on the counter as vi stands between your legs. she carefully examines your injury, but you notice how she avoids making eye contact. 

you feel your head spinning all over again. maybe it’s the adrenaline, or the fact that the two of you haven’t been this close in a while.

“remember teaching me how to throw a punch?” the question slips past your lips before you can stop it.

vi looks slightly amused, and she finally meets your gaze. “‘course i do,” she hums. “you tried to convince me to help you start an all-female fight club at school.”

a smile creeps onto your face, despite the pain from your nose.

she remembers. 

somewhere within her, vi holds on to fragments of you.

“thank god the principal vetoed it. would’ve been a disaster,” she continues.

vi wipes the blood off your face, the sleeve of her silk red button-down now stained a darker crimson. “how’s your hand?” she asks. 

you flex your fingers. “it’s been better,” you answer, your knuckles slightly aching. “totally worth it.”

vi smiles sadly. “i guess you’ve been the one protecting my sister while i’ve been away.”

while i’ve been away. 

the reminder feels like a stab to the heart. 

vi’s back home, sure, but only for a limited time. 

her fingers graze your cheek, and the breath hitches in your throat.

“you know, i only wanted to start that fight club as an elaborate plan to spend more time together,” you confess, opting to preserve the delicate bubble of nostalgia you’d stumbled into together. “we were each so busy….i had studio, and you were always away at hockey games. it wasn’t realistic in the end, though.”

“i would’ve stayed if you asked,” she tells you, and you wonder exactly what she might be referring to. 

you swallow the lump in your throat. “it’s what you loved, though.”

“but i - i loved you, more. you had to have known that.”

“yeah, well. i loved you, too,” you explain, and it’s clear that neither of you are talking about a lesbian fight club. “whether it was hockey, or music….as long your heart was in it, it was more worth it to let you go, to not stand in the way of your dreams.” 

“you were my dream.”

you scoff, cheeks heating up, and look away. “you probably say that to all the girls.”

“no.” vi guides your chin towards her. “just the one.”

it’s hard to determine who leans in first, but soon enough your lips are on vi’s— messy, urgent. noses bumping together, teeth clacking against each other. she cradles your face in her hands, and you wrap your legs around her waist to bring her closer. you taste beer on her tongue, and maybe a hint of lime, but it’s overwhelmed by the salty, metallic taste of blood stained on your lips. when you run out of air, you pull away. it’s clearer now: you’re not dizzy from the adrenaline, but dizzy from her. vi’s gaze is heavy on yours as she traces your top lip with her thumb.

“vi,” you whimper, itching to kiss her again. 

“you’re still bleeding.”

vi wipes away the blood with the sleeve of her shirt. before either of you can do or say anything more, there’s a knock on the door. vander, wondering if you’re okay and if maybe you could hurry up and get back to work. 

you can’t sleep that night. before, staying up on christmas eve was an elaborate operation to catch santa. now, it’s overthinking a very hot kiss and all the unresolved tension between you and your ex-girlfriend next door. 

logically, you knew that you missed vi, everything about her and who she is, the way you would laugh and argue and make love. but the rush of feeling her tongue licking into your mouth, her body melding into yours after being apart for so long….

you’re scared that she won’t feel the same, but you’re even more terrified of letting the moment slip through both your fingers without at least trying. 

so, you grab your phone, deciding to finally reach out to her, when by some christmas miracle you get a text from her.

she climbs through your window not long after, wearing plaid boxer shorts and a zaun university sweatshirt you’ve been looking for, for about five years. you didn’t bother to change, either, only wearing an oversized shirt. you sit cross-legged on your bed as she waits by the window. vi stares at your chest for a good few seconds, and you remember that you’re wearing one of her band’s concert tees, faded from years of wear. 

“so, um,” vi starts, her voice as soft as the well-worn cotton of your shirt. “we have so much shit to talk about and figure out, but, i, uh, can’t stop thinking about early tonight —”

“vi.” the swarm of butterflies in your stomach is replaced by something more delicate, more urgent. “do you wanna come sit?”

vi swallows thickly, looking between you and the still open window. a winter breeze rushes through. you shiver, thinking she might just turn around and disappear into the cold night. instead, she shuts the window, removes her snow-covered boots, and settles onto the bed next to you.

you place a tentative hand on her cheek, still cold and slightly flushed. she shudders when you run your thumb over the tattoo under her eye.

“i know there’s a lot we have to work through.” you take a deep breath as she shifts closer, suddenly dizzy from the familiar scent of her winter pine old-spice body wash. “right now….right now, i just want you.”

“yeah?” vi smirks, her shyness melting away. she settles a warm hand on your bare thigh. “how do you want me?”

you exhale sharply when her hand travels higher, dull nails scraping at the fabric of your underwear. 

“it’s cute that you’re flustered,” she quips, leaning in even closer. her breath is warm and heavy against your lips. “because i’ve spent so many night replaying all the dirty, nasty things we used to —”

you tug her sweatshirt and pull her back onto the bed, feeling her body solid against yours. the vibration of her groan shudders through your body when you crash your lips onto hers with such hunger, you’d think you had been starving without her. 

“how’s about an encore, superstar?” you drawl. 

you bite your lip hard at how vi nods at you desperately, eyes all dark and lustful.

“you read my mind,” she breathes. by now, her hand has reached the hem of your shirt, and she pushes up the cotton to reveal the supple skin of your stomach. you give her permission to remove it, leaving your top half exposed.

her lips nip and suck down your body until she reaches the waistband of your panties. she pulls it up with her teeth, the elastic snapping back when she lets go. you whine her name, and she looks up at you with dark eyes. 

“can i?” her breath fans over your navel, her nails digging into your hips as she waits for your answer.  

“yes. please.”

you hadn’t meant to sound so desperate, but you could feel vi smirk against your inner thigh before sinking her teeth into it. you whimper, and vi salves her tongue over the area to ease the sting before removing your underwear. she positions your legs over her shoulders for better access to where you need her most.

vi moves her tongue and fingers in all the ways she remembers makes you shake, curl your toes, and grind down on her face. in return, you grip her pink hair, tightly, and utter praise in all the ways you remember makes her shake. 

“just like that, pretty girl,” you encourage, practically melting into the mattress. it feels so good — dangerously good, intoxicating, even — to be devoured by vi.  “keep doing a good job and i’ll return the favor later.”

vi’s moan vibrates throughout your body and she becomes faster, reaches her tongue deeper, bringing you over the edge. she leaves a few more bites on your body on her way up to meet you and when she does, vi’s lips and chin are shining with your release.

you lean forward slightly to lick it up. you ghost your mouth over hers.

“your turn,” you taunt and run your thumb over her tattooed cheek. 

you twist your calf around vi’s leg and flip your positions. she lets out a yelp when her back hits the mattress. once you’re hovering over her, legs and arms on either side of her body, you do what you’re sure you’d never get tired of doing: you kiss her, passionately, deeply. you bite her lip as you pull away. 

there was always a bit of jealousy that gnawed at you, became your very-own shoulder devil that you just couldn’t shake when you were together, no matter how hard you tried. it was no secret that vi was admired by many, that girls around the world were crushing on her, hoping they’d catch her eye, get their chance with her. you never felt like she was yours, and yours alone. 

but you do get a deep satisfaction knowing that right here, right now, you’re the only person who gets to see her like this — pink hair splayed across the pillows like her very own halo, but the rest of her telling a much less-angelic, much more sinister story: her lips swollen and kiss-bitten, her cheeks a devilish shade of red, her eyes dark and lustful and waiting for you to make the next move. 

"you want me to have my way with you?" you whisper, voice honeyed with desire.

vi whimpers, a sound that fuels the fire in your abdomen. "yes."

you practically rip off her sweatshirt, kiss down her jaw, her neck, her exposed chest and sternum down to her stomach. vi lifts her hips from the bed so that you can remove her boxers, and you’re delighted to find nothing else underneath. 

you’re greeted by her glistening pussy. blowing onto her folds, you run your tongue from her hole to her clit, loving how you already feel her slick coating your lips. vi spread her legs even wider, and you take the opportunity to sink two fingers into her cunt. you know her body, as well as you know your own, as well as she knows yours. you flick your gaze up, view slightly blocked by the pink curls of her bush, but you can still picture it — how her eyes roll back, how her mouth opens to release a perfectly delicious gasp.

"god, i've barely touched you and you're already about to cum. did you miss me that much?" you tease, feeling her clench around your fingers. as if you aren’t subtly rutting your hips against the mattress, eager to ease the throbbing between your legs. 

all you get in response is whine. it’s muffled, and you crane your neck upward to see her biting down on her knuckles, so hard you’re worried she might break skin. 

unacceptable.

the rest of the world gets to hear her every day, any time they please. you want to be serenaded by the lyrics of her want, the notes of her desire. all for you and you alone.

with your other hand, you reach up to pinch one of her pierced nipples, always so sensitive. "answer me, violet."

vi props herself up on her elbows to look at you, just as you remove your mouth from her.

"yes!" she sings, practically sobbing. you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel the throbbing between your thighs intensify, hearing the frantic lilt of her voice — like she needs you and only you. "i missed you so fucking much. please, just do something."

at her request, you move up the bed so that the two of you are face to face, one of your hands holding her chin while the other is two fingers deep in her cunt. you add another, just to reveal in the timber of her sultry moan. she tries to bring her hand back, to quiet herself, but you shake your head. 

with your thumb, you trace over her lips, uneven and scarred and imperfectly beautiful. "open." 

vi obeys you instantly. you spit in her mouth, heart racing as you watch her swallow the combination of your saliva and her cum without question.

you continue fucking her with your fingers until she moans, louder and louder as she reaches her peak.

removing your fingers from her pussy, you lock eyes with her as you bring your syrupy fingers to your mouth and suck off her juices. then, you kiss underneath her ear, lips sticking slightly to her skin, and you whisper: "now i know why they say you have the voice of an angel.”

“fuck,” she exhales, the breath turning into a chuckle as you kiss underneath her chin, where you know she’s ticklish.

"one more time for me, okay, pretty girl? i want to feel you against me," you whisper. "i want to watch you fall apart, knowing that i'm the one who makes you feel this good."

vi nods, allowing you to adjust your positions so that your cunts are touching. you start fucking her down into the mattress and she sits up slightly so that your nipples brush against each other, the cold metal of her piercings encouraging the roll of your hips, her nails digging into the curve of your ass to bring you impossibly closer. 

“i missed you too. so fucking much,” you finally admit.  you flick one of the silver rings before leaning down and wrapping your lips around her nipple. 

“i missed these, too,” you add as you release her nipple with a pop, and vi moans. you’re grinning from ear to ear because, holy shit, vi is here and you’re together and you’re both happy, if only at the ecstasy of your silken cunts gliding against each other, at the taste of the other slicking your tongues, as thick as nectar and twice as sweet.

she laughs — love and magic and everlasting bliss — and you have to capture her lips now if you want to swallow the sound. you feel it bounce through your ribcage, awaken something deep within you that you feared was lost to time.

vi thrusts her hips upwards, presses harder against the seam of your cunt until you’re gushing against each other, not quite sure who’s making what mess. 

strings of cum connect you as you remove your body from hers. for a few seconds, you both lay on your backs, staring up at the ceiling and trying to catch your breath. vi drapes an arm over her eyes, chest heaving. 

you throw on some clothes and leave the room, hoping that vi’s still there when you get back.

….

vi worries that if she opens her eyes, she’ll wake up from this dream. 

she’ll be in some uncomfortable bed in london or tokyo or los angeles. the dull ache between her legs would be thanks to some girl who’d be eager to text all her friends and spill all the details about what vi likes in bed, or caitlyn who would tell vi to shave next time, darling, or i won’t let you fuck me again anytime soon.

instead, vi hears the creak of a door opening, feet tiptoeing along the floorboards. the mattress shifts with the weight of someone between her legs, though their body is not touching hers. 

“vi, baby,” a gentle coaxing, a familiar voice, pulling towards something she forgot she needed. her heart soars when she finds you kneeling on the bed, holding a damp towel in one hand and a glass of water in another. 

“yeah?” her voice is hoarse, but her throat doesn’t sting in the same way it does after a concert. it feels tender, well-used, well-loved.

you hold out the cup of water, watch vi eagerly gulp down half of it before she realizes what she’s done.

“shit, i — did you want some?”

you smile and shake your head. “i had some downstairs after my shower.” it’s then that vi registers the water dripping from the ends of your hair, soaking the fabric of her (fine, your) sweatshirt. “i’m gonna clean you up. is that okay?”

vi nods.

okay? okay? vi thinks she might have whiplash. 

it’s been a while since someone has fucked her so well she’d be satisfied for years and then touched her so tenderly afterwards. you run the damp cloth over vi’s sticky, sweaty skin, occasionally leaning down to press soft lips where you’d left teeth marks and bruises before. 

“there.” you throw the cloth on the floor. “so, um. do you wanna stay….?” 

you bite your lip as you wait for vi to answer. you start picking at your nail polish, too. vi sits up and grabs your hand. 

“i do,” she soothes. “do you want me to?”

your smile brightens the entire room and you kiss vi before muttering:

“i do.”

vi slips on her boxers as you settle into the bed next to her, leaving her top half bare. she notices the sketchbook on your bedside table, and she lifts it up at you, a silent question if she can flip through. you take it from her as you shift to sit between her legs, her chest warm against your back. the room’s only illuminated by the string of multicolored christmas lights you’d left on, but vi can see the talent, the passion behind your work as you walk her through your sketchbook. you tell her about the techniques you’ve been working on and new mediums you want to explore, about how you want to make the kind of art that makes people appreciate the beauty in the everyday. 

“i always loved your art,” she muses. vi cranes her neck slightly, places a kiss on your shoulder then one on your cheek. “the world would be more beautiful if you shared it.”

you hum and place the sketchbook on your bedside table. you each shift to your sides, facing each other; vi notches a leg around your hips, and you throw an arm around her waist, fingers trailing down her tattooed back. 

“ekko talked to you, huh?”

“i would have said that even if he hadn’t,” vi promises. “so….have you heard anything yet?”

“well….yeah,” you sigh, smiling shyly. “i got in, actually.” 

“really? that’s amazing, baby.” she beams at you, excitedly cupping your face in her hands, leaving small kisses across your cheeks until you’re giggling. 

“okay, okay,” you laugh. “i don’t know if i’m gonna go yet.”

vi hums knowingly. she presses her forehead against yours. 

“i know you’re scared, baby,” she says softly. “but sometimes it’s just a leap of faith.” 

“i know.” you pause, gnawing at your bottom lip while your eyes fixate on the scar on her upper lip. “can i ask you something?

“anything.”

“when you proposed to me….” her body tenses up, but you brush your hand over her bicep and the tension in her muscles dissipates. “was that a leap of faith? like, were you scared?”

“well, not at first.” she takes a shuddery breath, her voice suddenly small. “i always thought that we’d be together….i just didn’t think through how we’d make it work, i guess. i didn’t mean to mess things up, though.”

“hey.” vi leans into the hand you cup around her cheek. “we both messed up. we never actually talked, you know? but….i’m glad we are, now.” you swallow. “i still love you, vi.”

vi exhales. “you know, girls tell me that they love me pretty much every day.” 

you can’t help it — you roll your eyes, and vi laughs. because, truthfully, her heart has felt more full at your admission of love just now than it ever has for an area of screaming fans.

“there’s a point to this, i promise,” she says, nudging her nose against yours. “i used to get such a thrill from it….but then i think about what you said earlier. my heart — it’s just not in it anymore. all the band is now is drama and gossip and compromises of fame over art, and…. i don’t know. it’s not really what i want anymore. i want to be with you. for real, this time.”

you blink at her; she can feel your chest pulsing against hers like a hummingbird.

“would you, um, if i were to take that leap of faith and do that artist residency, would you —”

“anywhere you wanna go,” vi promises. she thinks about it a bit more….how nice it’s been to be home for the holidays, how nice it would be to come home year round.  “preferably close enough so we can have dinner at home on the weekends.” 

“sounds like a plan,” you smile.

the two of you twist closer underneath the flannel sheets, sink into the mattress, and gaze up at the faded glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to your ceiling until you fall asleep in each other’s arms.

you jolt awake a few hours later, several firm knocks on the door and ekko shouting:

“it’s christmas! get the fuck up before ziggy eats all the bacon!”

beside you, vi protects you from the frosty winter morning. her body radiates warmth, and her eyes flutter open, ever so slightly, as you gently shake her shoulder. 

she groans, turning on her back, rubbing sleep from her eye. 

“i better go.” 

“....yeah.”

you flush when you glance over as vi’s slipping on her sweatshirt, rose-petal bruises delicate across her skin. she opens the window, hair still mussed up, and a gust of frigid air rushes into the room. 

the image is so familiar: vi, one leg in your room and another out the window. you feel like a teenager again, scrambling to get dressed and avoid anyone hearing that you’d snuck your girlfriend into your room late at night. but there’s something else now, too — you imagine this becoming routine: waking up next to each other every day, swapping clothes, kissing over coffee and pancakes at breakfast. a place where the two of you might create some new memories, build a shared life together. and much more, so much more that feels like it could be your reality, sooner rather than later. 

you’re so deep in thought that you don’t notice vi rushing back towards you. she kisses you and kisses you, until your lungs are burning.

"merry christmas, baby,” she mumbles against your lips.

you grin back at her. “merry christmas, vi.”

....

hi baby, i know you’re at studio right now, but i forgot to ask you this morning: how do you feel about sending out holiday cards this year? i know they’re kind of cheesy, but it seems like the type of thing married couples might do…..

anyways, we’ll talk about it when you get home. i’m test-driving this new recipe for brussel sprouts to bring to dinner at my dad’s. 

i’ll see you later. love you!