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wandasfifthwife · 2 months

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your jealousy is showing (on me)✩‧₊˚

—> hockey player/coach!wanda x afab!reader

tw || SMUT MDNI, top wanda x bottom reader, dom/sub dynamics, established relationship, jealous wanda, exhibition (janitor closet), marking/impact play (hickeys, bruises, thigh spanking), fingering (r receiving), r gets hit on but is oblivious, tyler mention!, reader is said to be wearing a dress, person who hits on r sees the two of them, not proofread!

a/n || in such a slut for this woman. so sorry if my writing is nastier than coconut, idk how I feel about it haha but I hope you enjoy bc this made me hot and bothered tbh

series m.list ✩ ══╡˚2.3k words˚╞══ ✩ wanda m.list

Practice has been going well, better even. There’s been an increase in number since people started to find out that wanda has experience on the ice as a player on a professional team. The stands have become packed, families and friends taking up every corner, a completely contrast from before. You remember the days when you first came with your nephew, sitting and having a seven feet distance from another person. Tyler’s since graduated from wanda’s class, now attending another with a different coach.

It was a sad day for him, hugging your girlfriend tight and exclaiming how he wishes to have her as a coach for every class. She had laughed, resting a hand on his back and reassured him that she’ll attend his other classes. She even went as far as to mention private classes, saying they can spend time together on the ice. A smile had come upon your face as you watched the two interact, thankful your nephew is able to have such a wonderful relation with his coach, your girlfriend.

Since then you’ve been attending his classes with Wanda. You can’t help yourself, curling a hand through her arm to hold her close. You complain that it’s the cold, but you both know it’s a shit excuse. Regardless, she’s never going to turn you down, if anything she’s pulling you tighter and pressing a kiss to your head.

“He’s improved a lot. Lately he’s been practicing outside his house with some friends on the street.”

“That’s probably the only reason why he’s able to skate in a straight row now. Do you think he’ll continue to play?”

“I think so. It’s all he talks about, but of course we can’t say definitive terms. He could fall out of love with it in a year and choose like baseball.”

“If he were to choose another sport it’d be football, not baseball. His favorite part of hockey is running into others, he forgets there’s an actual game going on.”

You stifle a laugh, “he’s trying.”

He proved Wanda’s words to be correct because the next second he’s slamming into one of the team members, pummeling the two into the wall. The coach had come to talk to you after, seeking you where you stood by the concession stand. You had a hand on Wanda’s arm, informing her of where you’ll be.

You were paying for the snack, thanking the person behind the counter. He had stood behind you just out of your line of sight, so just enough that you ran into him when turning around. His shirt smelled of sweat and his cologne, a lot of his cologne, so much so it overwhelmed you.

“Hey, you’re tyler’s mom, right?”

“No, just his aunt.”

“My bad. Sorry that was terribly rude of me, I was going to say you look good for your age.”

“Thank you, that’s very kind.”

“Of course,” he flashes a smile, leaning onto one of the tables beside him, “I’ve notice how often you come, it’s great that you’re supporting him like this. Most kid’s don’t have such a supportive aunt.”

“I try. My brother and his wife are busy, so I take over. He’s means well but he’s still a young teen.”

“Yes. He’s nothing new. A lot of teens enjoy the physical aspect to the game, it’s normal for them to be competitive even with each other.”

A few minutes have gone by, enough time for concern to begin swirling through Wanda’s mind. She’s relieved to see you’ve not gone missing and that you’re all in one piece, standing only a few feet from her.

“That’s my coach,” Tyler starts, seeing how Wanda’s attention was directed at the tow of you.

“I know,” she deadpans, turning her attention back on your nephew, “finish untying your shoes.”

“I know,” he mimics, tone lowering to frustrate her further.

You’re walking back over with a grin plastered on your face. Tyler’s already grabbing at the drink you got, pulling it from your hands to open it already.

“Just talked with your new coach, Tyler. It seems you have a track record with finding amazing coaches.”

Already Wanda didn’t like him. She kept quiet about her disdain, knowing how important it was to you that Tyler doesn’t come to contact with a terrible one as you had.

It grew difficult. Each practice he always seemed to find you, drawing out a long conversation with you. Usually it’s fine, as a coach herself she understands the important of keeping up with the families, but this was excessive. The constant parade of compliments directed at you were unnecessary. He wouldn’t really care to talk to Tyler, and as far as she knew, Wanda didn’t exist around him. He’s either dumb, or he’s choosing to be ignorant towards the intimacy between you two.

What brought her to the edge was when he began to touch you, a hand on your shoulder or the back of your waist. It was in moments where it could’ve been excused; done to either move you out of the way or make sure you don’t trip.

You were sweet, engaging in a conversation he had started yet again down at the end of the bleachers. Wanda had her attention set on Tyler skating around before practice, eyes flickering to where the two of you stood every minute.

“I have a conference this weekend and we’re allowed to bring a plus one. Would you be interested in joining me?”

“Oh. I already have someone that I’m going with. So I won’t be going with you, but I will see you there.”

He looks disappointed, eyes shooting to meet Wanda’s, “I’ll see you there then.”

Wanda doesn’t like that man.

You walk up the stairs all sweet-like, sitting beside her and placing a kiss to her cheek, “when’s that coach award event again?”

“Saturday, 7PM.”

You hum, leaning your head on her shoulder, “you better win an award.”

“If not, I have you.”

An elbow shoves into her side, “you’re such a sap.”

“No, I just love you,” she murmurs, pressing her lips against yours, feeling like she’s won when she catches the coach looking. She had hoped the soft public display of affection would be enough of a sign to back off, but it wasn’t.

The weekend came soon enough. Wanda standing by the door with her keys in hand as she waits for you to join her.

“Beautiful,” she says when you step down, opening the door for you.

“I hope you win one award, that would be amazing.”

“It would look great for my public imagine,”she laughs at the look you give her, “you know I don’t care about that, love.”She gives your thigh a squeeze before backing the car out of her apartment complex.

She should’ve known he’d be stuck to you most of the night. Wanda tries to engage in the conversation, but he tunes her out, keeping his attention on you. Ever so sweet you try to include her, smiling back at her but this time it’s not enough to quell how she’s feeling.

“Hey Micheal, can you go grab her another drink?”

“Wanda, I can’t—“

She shuts you up by pinching at your waist, cutting your sentence off. He looks mildly annoyed, “sure.”Once he’s turned around, she’s guiding you out of the room.

“Wanda there’s only like sixteen minutes until the ceremony—“ your mouth goes numb when you realize where she’s walking you towards. There’s a closet at the end of the hall, tiny and small as its only purpose is to hold supplies for the janitors. Tonight it will be used for another matter.

“That’s enough time,” she says lowly, shutting the door behind her, enclosing the two of you in darkness.

She’s lifting you with her hands under your thighs, dropping you down onto the extra school desk stored away in the room. Her body’s leans into you, hands on either side of your body as she kisses you passionately. They turn messy, trailing from the corner of your lips to end up on the bottom side of your neck. You gasp when she bites down, a hand reaching to push at her chest.

“Wan—wait.”

She doesn’t listen, too focused on making your neck show an array of purple marks. You whine, squirming in her hold as she leaves one after the other, stopping only on areas that you’re sensitive to. She’s severely quiet, attentive to every heavy breath and sound coming from you. You’re weak, arms wrapped around her neck, head pressed into the wall behind you. You’ve completely given up control, neck tilted back to give her more room.

“Oh—” you shiver when she moves towards the spot behind your neck. Your reaction gave her another reason to press her lips against it, nipping at the skin there.

Her ministrations leave you wet, your hips grind down onto the desk below you to try to seek relief. Wanda coos, cold fingers sliding under your dress, finding the wetness between your thighs. You cry out when she thrusts two in, pushing through your tight walls. It’s intoxicating, the wet sounds filling the room, turning you on even more.

“Ah! Wands—you—“

She’s shushing you, lips on yours to keep you quiet. Her fingers are splitting you open, angling perfectly towards the spot that makes your back arch. Her thumb catches onto your clit with each thrust, brushing perfectly to make you see white. You weave your fingers into her hair, moaning into her mouth when she bites at your bottom lip.

You’ve completely forgotten about the event, and most importantly, Michael. You’re clenching onto her finger, arousal covering her hand and dripping onto the wood below you. You choke on a moan when she’s guiding you to lift your left foot onto the desk, the position spreading you open to allow her fingers to push deeper. The bottom of your dress slips up, clothing pooling around your waist. You feel your orgasm build, a series of whimpers spilling from you.

“Fucking say my name when you come,” she demands, holding back moan when she hears your strangled whine after she brought her hand down onto your thigh. The way your cunt squeezes around her fingers then makes her weak.

“Like that?”

She’s cocky, hand coming down harder on that same spot.

“ah! wands please—“

Your body jerks after her fifth slap, mouth dropping open in a silent scream. She nuzzles against your head resting on her shoulder. You relaxed into her hole, breathing heavily as you come down from your high.

It was fine until wanda carried you into the bathrooms to clean off and you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, easily spotting the splotches painting your neck.

You leaned over the sink to get a better view, eyes snapping between the marks; the one by your ear, another under the strap of your dress, one more at the base of your neck. You weren’t aware of the severity of her actions in the moment, your mind was too busy trying to deal with the fuzziness spreading throughout your body.

“Was that okay,” she asks from where she stands by the entrance.

“Very,” you mumble, looking back to her with a smile.

“Hey, I want to apologize. I knew something was wrong,” you say, grabbing a paper towel from the machine, “he was a jerk to you. Like just earlier he wasn’t letting you get a word in, but I really just thought he was being nice at first.”

“You’re fine, love.”

You wet the towel, rubbing warm water over the cloth to get it wet, “you say that but I still feel bad.”

She crosses the room to grab at your wrist after seeing what you were doing, “why’re you trying to rub the marks off?”

“Because?”

She raises an eyebrow, “because? What?”

“This is your event, I don’t want you to loose your job over me.”

“I won’t,” she tosses the towel away, “I knew what I was doing when I gave you those.”

“But the staff—“

“There’s enough of them screwing around.”

“Oh.”

She huffs, hooking a finger under the hem of your dress, drawing it up your thigh until the red, swollen marks on your thighs from where she was aiming her hand earlier begin to show. You hate how affected you get by the sight of them, thighs squeezing together.

You were only meant to be gone for ten minutes. That was the original goal, but she began to fold with how you were looking at her. Your eyes were dark, locking onto hers from within the mirror. She had you pinned to the counter in seconds, forcing you to watch how easily you melt under her touch.

Footsteps echoed throughout the hallway, getting closer to where the two of you stood. You had begun to push back, mumbles on how she needs to stop so they don’t get caught, but it’s like she knew. You caught on later, realizing it was Micheal by the sound of his voice calling out to you.

“Wanda, he—“

She’s slapping a hand over your mouth, pulling you back against her chest. You look over your shoulder, finding Micheal freeze after entering into the room. Wanda had you in a position only he could dream of. He was like a fish out of water, mouth opening and closing as he processed what he was looking at. The marks on your body, eyes glossy and faraway even as you look in his direction. The muscles in Wanda’s arm flex as she presses her hand tighter against your mouth. You’re absolutely dripping, excitement pooling from the behavior this man was bringing out of her.

��I was worried… but I see you’re.. okay.”

“I see you’ve met my girlfriend, Micheal?”

series m.list ✩ ══╡˚2.3k words˚╞══ ✩ wanida m.list

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woso-dreamzzz · 5 months

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Different

Arsenal Women x Teen!Reader

Summary: You're different from the other kids

To your Mam, it was like the end of the world.

To you, it was something you had seen approaching from a while away. You'd never been the most coordinated of people. Your spatial awareness was terrible and it was like your limbs applied what your brain told them with a five-second delay.

You'd known since you were little that you were different.

You think your Mam knew too.

You'd never really been able to play football with her, no matter how hard you'd tried when you were younger. Sports weren't your thing.

You knew that she was disappointed in that but she'd tried to find different hobbies for you.

You had cried after your third guitar lesson, your fingers making it difficult to pluck the strings, and you felt the same way about art.

It was only a matter of time that something like this happened. Honestly, you think it should have happened long before that.

Your teachers had always been willing to sweep your bad handwriting under the rug. They had always written it off as you not caring enough or having no interest in the lesson. You were scatterbrained at times and got easily distracted when you were bored. Your hands shook at the idea of catching a ball or using a paintbrush.

Everyone had just put it down to being a slow learner with low self-esteem.

Nobody ever realised you had never really improved.

Except for your math's teacher.

He had noticed the signs this year when he took over your class.

So, here you were, sat in the canteen at Arsenal with hunched shoulders as your mother ranted and raved to the others.

"There's nothing wrong with her!" Katie denied as she paced back and forth in front of you. "Who the hell does he think he is? Saying there's something wrong with her?"

"He actually said that?" Leah asked, eyes wide.

Katie dropped her arms. "Essentially! He said that it was in her best interest to get her tested! There's nothing wrong with her!"

You held your tongue. There was something wrong with you, you thought. You knew you were different to the other kids. You'd made your peace with that a while ago.

You had your exams next year and you dreaded it. It took you nearly a full week to write essays. You didn't know how you would cope if you had to write them under exam conditions.

You clutched at your school report, willing yourself not to cry. It was all the same, each and every one of them.

Homework Performance: Below Average

Assessment Performance: Below Average

In Class Contributions: Average

Overall Grade: F

Comments: y/n is a very bright girl in one-on-one or class discussions but needs to apply herself more in her written work

It was the same thing over and over again. You could do nothing right when it came to written work. You could barely hold your pen or finish off your thoughts within the time frame of your mocks.

"How dare they!" Steph continued, jumping in on what your Mam was saying. "She's very smart! Katie, you can't let them treat her like this!"

You blinked away your tears as Beth ran a soothing hand up and down your arm.

"I'll be having words!" Katie insisted," There's nothing wrong with her! It's not her fault they're not teaching her properly!"

You loved your Mam, you really did but you could never get a word in about this stuff. It had been a constant problem that started all the way back in Year 2 when your teacher brought up serious worries.

'She's just a slow learner' your Mam had insisted. 'She'll get there' she'd promised.

Only you weren't a slow learner and you never did get there.

It was like the rest of your classmates had left you behind in a marathon and you were sprinting just trying to catch up. They had left you behind in the dust until they were nothing but specks in the distance while you had already collapsed from the exhaustion of it all.

You never even crossed the starting line.

More tears fell onto your closed fists. It took everything in you not to cry out loud.

"It's okay," Alessia said softly to you," Katie'll sort it out."

You didn't want Mam to sort it out. You didn't want this to be swept away again.

Your exams were next year and you just wanted someone to fix you. You wanted someone to tell you what was so fucked up in the head that holding a pen in your hand was your version of playing against prime Barcelona for the rest of your life.

"Hey," Leah said. Her hand was on your shoulder now and you tried not to flinch away, hunching your back so you could curl into yourself. "This means nothing. You're so smart and if those teachers are grading you unfairly then Katie's gonna let them have it."

"They're not grading me unfairly," You choked out," I just can't write. Leah, I can't write anything."

"Your handwriting's a little messy," Leah tried to soothe you, not knowing that her misunderstanding of the situation was making everything worse," But that's okay. You've got plenty of time to work on it."

Your eyes flicked to look at her, red and puffy as you beseeched her to understand," I've been working on it my whole life, Leah. I can't write."

"You can."

"Thanks but I need realism right now. I'm failing. Because I can't write during an exam. GCSEs are next summer. I'm screwed."

"It's plenty of time!" Leah said, still trying to hype you up," You'll get there."

"That's what everyone says," You grumbled. You tucked your school report back into your bag.

Your Mam had been writing those off for years, adamant that the teachers were just harsh on you, that slow and steady wins the race. But the race had been long over by now and you were probably closer to the beginning than the finishing line.

"Don't listen to that stupid man," Mam said as she came closer, cradling your cheeks in her hands," He doesn't know what he's talking about. There's nothing to test you about. You're perfect."

You certainly didn't feel perfect. You felt like your world was crumbling and your hands were shaking too much to haul yourself to safety.

You sighed and finally spoke," I want to be tested."

Mam's face turned thundery. "You've no reason to be tested. There's nothing wrong with you."

"There is Mam!" You weren't usually one to shout but this had gone on long enough. "I know it and you know it too. There's something wrong with me."

"There's nothing wrong. You're just a bit different but that's okay."

You pulled yourself out of her arms. "I want to be tested. I'm different to the others and I want to know why."

Mam looked like she wanted to argue but someone came to your rescue.

"Katie," Kim said," Get her tested. I know what you're feeling like but, seriously, get her tested, if only so you can be right and you can yell at more teachers. But, if there is something that's affecting her, surely, you want to get support for her?"

Mam sighed, looking over at you as you sobbed in Viv's arms.

She'd known you were different when you didn't hit your milestones as a baby. You were slow to crawl and slow to walk. She knew you were different the moment you let her throw a ball in your face instead of trying to catch it. She knew you were different when you came home in tears at age five because you couldn't write properly or when you got teased at school because your shaking hands couldn't control the paintbrush either.

Katie knew you were different but that didn't mean you were broken. Being tested for something made it seem like there was something wrong. There was nothing wrong with you and Katie would kill anyone who insinuated otherwise.

"Katie," Kim said again," She wants to be tested. Her teachers think it's a good idea. She needs this if only to be a bit more settled."

Katie looked back at you as Lia and Laura offered you food and drink to refuel from your impromptu public breakdown. She sighed.

"I'll...I'll call her Maths teacher back, see if he says any recommendations for where."

#woso x reader #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal x reader #arsenal wfc #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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sleekista · 5 months

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you don’t have to be perfect

barça fem x teen!reader, lucy bronze x teen!reader

request: here

A/N: also i would just like to say, if anyone has any feedback for my writing it’s greatly appreciated cuz i’m not the best writer ik that but i want to improve.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It was apart of the contract I first signed with Barcelona that I continue my studies and finish school. Not ideal, but I get by with around 80% and sitting on a B for most my classes. What I didn’t factor in was the amount of stress I would have on top of the League and UWCL games when exams and assignments from 6 different classes were coming up. That’s hard on a 17 year old.

I felt myself start to drift away from everyone in the 2 weeks before mayhem. First it was denying to go out with the younger girls like Salma and Vicky, both of whom understood. Vicky being the same age as me and Salma only 2 years older than us. Then as expectations rose, classes became longer and filled extra information. All the time I wasn't on the pitch, I was studying. Or sleeping. (we dont talk about how even thats being cut down to maximum 5 hours a night).

Living with Lucy meant that she was bound to catch on to what was happening. It was inevitable. She took me under her wing when I first arrived along with some of the older girls and since I don’t speak Spanish natively, I was told to go with Lucy who was told to keep an eye on me. It’s nice, when you don’t want her to worry about how you’re ignoring everyone and have bags under your eyes whenever she sees you. She really does try her hardest to get me to do anything that’s not over analysing and over-studying the numerous topics, but no matter how much it pains me. I always turn her down.

After another night of studying until 2am, there’s an early morning training session and I know I’ve only gotten 4 hours of sleep. If I told the medical staff I’m sure they’d pale.

I’m aware that I probably look like death walking, but it doesn’t bother me. If I pass with above average grades, I’m happy and I know my actual parents will be too. I ignore the concerned looks that Irene and Alexia give Lucy, and get changed ready for the training session.

It’s gruelling, the lack of sleep from the past 2 weeks has finally started to catch up. When I least needed it to. Maybe I am working too hard. It’s too late for that though. I know I’m being watched by the captains, acting for a little bit longer won’t do much harm. Can it?

When the third water break rolls around, I sit on the floor and flop onto my back, closing my eyes. Too tired in the moment to do anything other than breathe. The sunshine above me dulls as Lucy and Alexia stare down at me. When I open my eyes. My captain has a raised brow, while my roommate has her arms crossed.

“Y/N, get up please. Now.” It’s Lucy who speaks first. I don’t give in. What’s their problem?

“No. I am fine where I am thank you very much.” I bite back. Lucy looks like she’s trying to hold herself together and Alexia looks furious. Unconsciously, I sink into myself hoping the ground could swallow me up.

“Nena, we won’t ask again.” The spaniard says, her voice low as she sticks out her hand.

I reluctantly take it, pulling myself up and staring at the two in front of me.

“Come.” Alexia says blankly, leaving no room for argument before walking toward the main building. I sigh, doing as she says or I know I won’t hear the end of it. Lucy trails just behind me, her jaw set and making sure I don’t run away.

When inside I’m placed on a couch, wishing and praying to any extra-terrestrial being that I can leave this confrontation. What is it even about? Why am I here? I’ve done nothing wrong.

“So, we noticed you’ve been pushing people out. You also look dead.” Classic Alexia, straight to the point.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I look away.

“Really? Because when I go to bed, which is around midnight and sometimes 1 if I’m doing other work. Your light is always on. You better fess up now before we make you do extra laps, and clear all the equipment from training.” It’s Lucy this time, starring daggers into me. Still, I don’t let up.

“Maybe I left the light on.” I shrug. “And why do we have to do this right now? I have 2 exams tomorrow. So, if I may. Let’s finish training so I can get to study and do other things.”

“This is exactly what I’m talking about Y/N. You’re deflecting absolutely everything we say. You’re not taking the information in. I get you’re stressed but that doesn’t mean you isolate yourself.” She pauses, sighing deeply. “We are going home right now. You will not touch your school work, this has gone on for long enough. I know Alexia agrees with me.”

“Before you argue, just think. Is this really the best way I could’ve prepared? Yes nail in, do the study for good results. But also remember to utilise the support system you have, the team, the coaches, take a break.” By the end of the rant I feel tears well in my eyes. I feel someone hug me and I can tell who it is by the obscurely large hands.

“Nena, go home with Lucy. Get some rest, and not only will you feel better but it gives your brain a break. When the week is over we can talk more but for now go.” The Catalan smiles warmly. I nod my head saying thanks before walking with Lucy to the car.

“Do you feel alright? You do look very pale.” She places her hands against my face and frowns. “No temperature. I’ll get some food into you and we’ll have a rest day. Just us.” I nod slowly staring out of the window as my mind races.

When we get to the apartment, no conversation is made and I immediately go and take a shower. It’s there that I cry and let all my frustrations out, the stress finally taking its toll on my mind.

When I’m dressed and ready I walk out to the smell of pancakes and Lucy sitting on the couch with Narla next to her. She hears me and turns her head around, eyebrows furrowing at the state I’m in.

She pats the open spot next to her which isn’t taken by the Westie and hands me a plate, which I accept gratefully.

It’s a comfortable silence, but I know she’s waiting for me to say anything. And this time, I do.

“I’m sorry Luce.” My voice is quiet and more high pitched compared to what it normally sounds like.

She smiles lightly.

“Hey, these things happen. You’re smart, just as Alexia said give your mind a rest and you’ll do better. Myself, Keira, the rest of the team only want the best for you and your well-being. Let’s not talk about this now, take it step by step. You’ll be ok.” I nod wiping freshly formed tears as she pulls me into a big hug, giving the rest of her pancake to Narla who eats it happily.

- - - - -

And ok it would be. I end up playing Fifa with Lucy the rest of the day before eventually falling asleep against her. As for the exams, I pass by with good grades and after everything’s done the team takes me out to a restaurant to celebrate. As much as I deny it, this team is the most important thing to me. I love and adore them all so much.

#woso #woso x reader #woso community #woso fanfics #barcelona femeni x reader #barcelona femeni #barca femeni #barca femeni x reader #lucy bronze #lucy bronze x reader #alexia putellas

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shadowtriovibes · 1 year

Note

Hello,

Can you write some shameless pre-relationship Sebastian x mc flirting? Like pining, comparing hand sizes, teasing about height, all that cringe cute stuff! Just go off on that however you like!

hello anon!! here's a quick 1.5k pg-rated words for you because i'd just started a little drabble of MC working at j pippin's for the summer and it turned into two goofy teens in love 🥹

edit: i felt like this deserved a name so i'm calling it "the potioneer's apprentice" and i personally love a potion-loving MC characterization very much so i may return to this 'verse later on xoxo

"I happen to know that you can make a perfectly good batch of Wiggenweld yourself," you point out. Sebastian watches distractedly while you untie your hair, shaking it loose as it falls down to your shoulders. "W-well, yours is better," he insists. "Always has been, even Sharp said so." "It's even better now," you say proudly, pulling one of the bottles out of your bag to hand to him. "...You're not actually hurt, are you?" "No, just bored," he admits. "I wanted to see you."

Staring down at the order slip in your hands, you bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling.

Mr. Sebastian Sallow Feldcroft Hamlet

x3 Wiggenweld x1 Focus x1 Felix Felicis

“Simple enough,” Parry Pippin says cheerfully, tucking a knut into the pocket of the postal owl that had just dropped off your latest order. “I’ll put together the Liquid Luck, I know that’s a tricky one.”

Bustling over to his potions station, he adds, “I trust brewing the Wiggenweld and Focus draughts should be no problem for you?”

“Of course,” you say, quickly tying up your hair before lighting a fire beneath the cauldron at your own station.

You’ve been an apprentice at J. Pippin’s Potions for just over a month, refining your potions skills over the summer break – and helping keep an eye on things in Hogsmeade. In that time, your brewing skills have improved significantly, and Parry is more than happy to pass on some of the simpler potions to you.

Attempting to be casual, you ask, “Will this be a delivery?”

“Oh, I should think so,” Parry confirms. “Though it’s not exactly my neck of the woods.”

“Would you like me to drop it off?” you offer hopefully.

“How about this,” Parry offers. “I’ll send you down to the hamlet to drop these off, and then you can call it a day.”

“Thank you, Mister Pippin,” you say with a grin.

Your boss smiles approvingly as you carefully pour some horklump juice into your cauldron, precisely tapping the side of the bottle as he’d taught you.

“Besides,” he says cheekily. “I think this is the third time this month that young mister Sallow has ordered from my shop and requested delivery, even though Fatimah’s shop is much closer.”

You nearly spill the entire bottle.

“Any idea why a Hogwarts student on summer break would need so many potions?” Parry asks, smirking to himself as he pours some lacewing flies into his cauldron.

“W-well, I – I suppose he could be clumsy,” you mumble unconvincingly. “O-or stocking up, perhaps. We’ve got N.E.W.T. classes next term, some of these spells are quite challenging, a-and the beasts, we’ve got Grindylows to examine, you know how they bite…”

You trail off feebly, blushing a bright red. The Wiggenweld potion in your cauldron signals its completion with a puff of smoke, offering a welcome distraction.

“Aye, of course,” Parry murmurs, sounding very much like he doesn’t believe you in the slightest. “In any case, as soon as you finish that Focus potion I’ll send you on your way.”

Quickly ladling three portions of Wiggenweld into Parry's glass vials, you scrub out your cauldron and prepare the last draught, wrinkling your nose at the smell of dugbog tongue. Once it starts to smoke and bubble, you measure out a generous portion and collect the Felix Felicis from your boss, tucking the lot into your satchel.

“Please thank young Sebastian for his order, and tell him I said good day,” Parry tells you with a wink. “And to kindly stop pilfering my apprentice so often.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply sheepishly.

Outside the shop, you trek outside the boundaries of Hogsmeade to hop onto your broom and head south toward Feldcroft. It had been more than a week since you’d seen Sebastian, which felt like an eternity compared to how often you saw him during the school year.

One month into your break and you feel like a simpering wreck.

You miss him like crazy – not that you’d tell him like that, of course. He’s your closest friend, and the two of you have been through so much together in the past two years. You aren’t about to ruin it by confessing that you’re hopelessly in love with him.

—

Sebastian is not moping.

And even if he was, why shouldn’t he mope? He’s alone, it’s swelteringly hot in the hamlet and he hasn’t seen his best friend in a week.

He’s bored, and when Sebastian gets bored, he gets creative.

Really, it’s almost too easy to summon you to Feldcroft. All it took was a quick trip to see the owl post stand and another superfluous order for some potions (with a little bit of Liquid Luck thrown in on a whim), and he knew you’d arrive by the time the heat broke.

He conveniently manages to be tending to his small garden when you touch down beside the Sallow home, his sleeves rolled up past his elbows while he pats some dirt around a sprig of fluxweed.

“Sallow?” You call out teasingly. “I have an order here for Sebastian Sallow?”

“Must be a lazy bloke, ordering all those Wiggenwelds instead of making them himself,” he answers, sitting back on his heels and wiping some sweat away from his brow with the back of his wrist. “Or perhaps just daft.”

“I happen to know that you can make a perfectly good batch of Wiggenweld yourself,” you point out.

Sebastian watches distractedly while you untie your hair, shaking it loose as it falls down to your shoulders.

“W-well, yours is better,” he insists. “Always has been, even Sharp said so.”

“It’s even better now,” you say proudly, pulling one of the bottles out of your bag to hand to him. “...You’re not actually hurt, are you?”

“No, just bored,” he admits. “I wanted to see you.”

If Ominis were here, he’d likely pick up on how those words make your heart race a little faster, but mercifully, Sebastian does not.

“Here I am,” you say. “And I’m all yours for the day, Mister Pippin gave me the rest of the day off.”

“Oh, really?” he replies, brushing some stray dirt off of his trousers as he stands up. “Whatever could we get up to with an entire afternoon?”

You blink in surprise as he stands, realizing for the first time that Sebastian has gotten taller.

“What?” he asks, catching your gaze.

“You’ve grown,” you say dumbly. “I – I mean, you’re tall.”

“Am I?” he asks, a teasing smirk on his lips. “Perhaps you’re just short.”

“I am not short,” you protest, following Sebastian as he leads the way into the old Sallow home.

It feels different now, obviously. Less like a family home and more like a chaotic bachelor pad, Sebastian’s strewn-about books and haphazard notes covering up a distinct lack of coziness.

It’s only for the summer, Sebastian had told you the first time you’d seen it.

(You know he doesn’t really have anywhere else to go anymore, what with the Gaunt household becoming more toxic by the day. You wouldn’t be surprised to find Ominis squatting there as well by the time July rolls around.)

“You’re practically pocket-sized,” Sebastian teases, closing the door behind you to keep some of the midday sun out. “I think it’s why you’re so powerful – it’s concentrated, your magic.”

You scoff and shove at his shoulder, wondering to yourself when he became so broad.

It had only been a few weeks since school had let out, hadn’t it? And suddenly Sebastian was walking around in a man’s body, one you were sure wasn’t there in Charms class in May. Or maybe it was, hiding beneath his suit jacket and his robes…

You blink rapidly to clear your head.

“Um. Your potions,” you mumble, pulling the rest of the bottles out of your satchel and placing them on the front room table.

Then you can’t help but ask, “What’s the Felix Felicis for?”

“Not sure yet,” Sebastian admits. “But I’m sure it will come in handy at some point.”

You hum under your breath, picking up the delicate vial and examining it in the light.

“Hand it over,” Sebastian demands with a laugh. “I don’t like the way you’re looking at that bottle, I know what temptation looks like on your face.”

Blushing, you place the vial in his outstretched hand, letting your own hand linger a beat too long. Sebastian quickly catches your wrist, turning your hand palm-side up.

“Merlin’s beard, your hand is small,” he observes.

“Not this again,” you groan.

“I’m being serious, you hold your wand with this tiny thing?” he jokes. “Poor Ollivander had his work cut out for him.”

“Let’s see yours, then,” you insist, holding your hand up to him. “Go on.”

Sebastian presses his palm against yours and you raise your eyebrows. His hand dwarfs yours to the degree that he could wrap the tips of his fingers overtop yours if he wanted to.

“See?” he says, his voice suddenly much quieter in the empty home. “Tiny.”

“And yet I can still beat you in a duel,” you retort, trying to calm your racing heart.

Just like that, the tension in the room dissolves away and Sebastian lights up.

“A duel, hmm?” he echoes. “Is that an offer?”

“Seriously? That’s what you want to do today?” you laugh. “It’s thirty degrees outside and you want to duel?”

“We could practice on the training dummies,” he offers hopefully. “You know you want to.”

…Damn him, he’s right.

“Fine,” you relent. “But if I sweat through this chemise, it’s your head, Sallow.”

Sebastian tries very hard to not think about you in a sweat-soaked white shirt as you lead him back outside, and if he trips over the doorframe on his way out, he’s happy to let you continue to assume it’s just his clumsy streak.

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian x mc #sebastian x reader #requests #my fic

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misseviehyde · 2 months

Text

THE RILEY EXPERIMENT

(Based on ip that Mana Omega kindly has allowed me to use.)

Riley Green wished his Dad had never remarried. It wasn't that he disliked his step-mom Rachel Grey, it was her bitchy daughter Riley that made his life feel like hell. Thanks to the marriage, they were now two teens exactly the same age, in the same class at school and now even living together in the same house.

But despite those superficial similarities, they couldn't be two more different people.

Firstly; it was incredibly annoying having the same name as your step-sister. Packages were constantly arriving at the house for the female Riley and if male Riley forgot to check the label properly, he'd often find himself holding a bra or a sexy tight fitting bodystocking from Shein or Pretty Little Thing.

Much to his embarrassment, Riley had found himself keeping one of the bras. It was a 34D leopard skin print bra. He would sometimes jerk off whilst wearing it; not really sure why he found the thought of having Riley's big tits on his chest such a fucking turn on; but doing it anyway. He was definitely NOT gay, but there was something going on there that made him hard. He knew it was wrong to steal underwear, but somehow it just felt so good. Riley never commented on the bra going missing, maybe she thought it had gotten lost in the post.

After all, she wasn't very careful with money. Riley seemed to have a unlimited spend amount on her credit-card and was constantly buying new clothes to keep up with the popular girl fashions. She was basically a spoiled brat. If Mommy wouldn't buy it for her, she'd usually find some guy to give her what she wanted.

Riley was into social media and seemed to spend more time building up followers on Insta or Tiktok then doing anything useful with her life. Riley didn't think his step-sister was shallow, he knew she was. She seemed to date a new guy every week and as far as Riley could tell she was definitely sexually active. Sometimes he'd hear... noises from her room. Noises that made him really horny.

One night he'd heard a sexy low buzzing from her room. He'd lain propped up against the wall, his stolen bra stuffed with socks as he listened to his step-sister groan and moan and he jerked his cock to the sounds of her pleasure. She was obviously using a vibrator or magic wand and he wondered if one of the packages that had passed through his hands had actually been a sex-toy. It made him wish he had accidentally opened THAT package.

"Ohhhh fuck yeahhhh I'm soooo fucking wet, mmmmmmhhhh..."

He had cum so hard that night.

The thought of what he might do with a dildo or butt-plug made him blush. No... he was definitely straight, these were just some weird ideas he was sometimes having. It was all the fault of having such a slutty step-sister.

Indeed, the main problem with living with her was that Riley was so fucking hot. She had a big round bubble-butt, large firm breasts and a gorgeous face. She looked good in everything and she had the spoiled, knowing, mean girl bimbo look that made boys weak. She always wore the sexiest outfits, had long sexy nails and was the purist vision of toxic femininity possible. She loved to tease Riley, manipulate and use him. She seemed to get off on the power she had over him.

In fact - in order to differentiate between them, Riley had popularised the use of his hated nickname Ry. Now nearly everyone called him Ry and it sucked.

The two of them couldn't be more unalike. Riley was popular, hot, pretty and sexually confident - Ry was dorky, nervous, unconfident and a virgin.

About the only advantage Ry had over Riley was that he was smart. A lot smarter. In fact he was a bit of a genius. Riley had used that to her advantage though, swiftly learning that now they shared a house it was pretty easy to copy Ry's homework and manipulate him into helping her grades improve.

"Ohhh you're such a good step-brother," she'd purr as she got another A- on a paper. "Hey, did I mention I have some new social media photos I'd like you to 'examine' for me. Let me air-drop them to your phone.'

Riley had learned that if she provided images of herself, her step-brother would do whatever she wanted. He was addicted to her beauty and femininity - whilst she found his intelligence useful.

Getting her brother to cheat for her had paid dividends. In fact Riley's grades had improved SO much as a result of her using her step-brother, her Mom had promised she could go to a music festival with her slutty friends, provided she passed the final test.

The final test.

There would be no way to cheat on that. Riley's frustrations were evident. Her Step-Bro couldn't exactly sit the test for her and she wasn't smart enough to pass without cheating.

"Listen babe, you need to find a way to help me pass that test. I need to go to that music festival with my girlies. Find a way to make me smarter or something. Just imagine how hot I'll look in all the pictures I can send you."

Ry scratched his head. What was he supposed to do? You couldn't exactly make another person... smarter in under a week, could you?

Hmmmm, that jogged a strange memory. About a year ago, Ry had been following an interesting online science blog from a girl in another town. Laura Sims was another science prodigy (who he'd actually had a bit of a crush on). One day she'd just stopped posting, but he remembered her putting up some interesting ideas for a hi tech Crispr solution. The idea was the solution would eradicate genetic weaknesses in whoever drank it by taking the strengths from someone else's DNA.

It took a bit of searching - strangely Laura Sims no longer seemed to have much of an online presence. He found some information for a Laura Richie - some bitch from the same town who appeared to be living a life of decadence - but eventually succeeded in using the internet archives to find the page instead.

Laura had luckily uploaded her formula, hoping to 'open source' test it. He wondered why she'd taken everything down?

It didn't take long to create the formula. The advice from Laura was to try it before bed to give it time to activate. The main changes would come the day after. Riley looked on doubtfully as Ry took one of his head hairs and put it into the liquid. He gave it to her to drink. "This will give you my intelligence and smarts."

"Okay - if you're sure. I'll try anything to get to that festival."

Riley drank. "Ughhh, it tastes sour. Okay, let's hope this works. I'll go and start revising - maybe I'll get some early gains."

She left the room. As she did so, Ry noticed one of her long sexy head hairs had come free and was just lying there on the table. A terrible temptation overcame him. What if? What if he used the solution too? It wouldn't make him smart, but maybe it would make him more attractive and confident.

Feeling a little guilty, he dissolved the hair and drank the solution. It tasted sweet and his skin tingled, but nothing else seemed to happen. Weird... Riley had said it was sour.

Inside their bodies, the Crispr solution went to work. Riley's female DNA rushed through Ry's body, overwriting his cells. There was no melding here - no balancing. Riley's bitchy DNA was taking control and spreading like a wild-fire through his body.

Meanwhile Riley was also having her female cells consumed slowly and methodically by Ry's. The virus was even spreading to her brain, dendrites and synapses rewiring and altering to make her think like he did.

Now it was just a matter of waiting. The changes would soon be on their way

***

DAY ONE:

Waking up groggily, Riley had to admit she didn't feel great. Her whole body felt sluggish and weak, like she had a really bad cold. Walking to the mirror she despaired to see that her usually flawless skin seemed a bit blotchy and riddled with acne, similar to her dorky step-bros. What the hell was his stupid formula doing to her?

Looking down she blushed. Her tits seemed obscenely large on her chest. She couldn't believe she usually allowed herself to walk around flaunting them like this. It didn't normally bother her, but now for some reason it did. She searched through her wardobe and finding a hoody, slid it on.

Her eyes seemed to be struggling. Maybe it was the light in here? Switching on the lights she tiredly walked to her makeup vanity and paused. Makeup? What was the point of makeup? She was only going to study for a test today.

Ignoring her usual cleansing routines and preparations, Riley took down the large Maths text-book she was supposed to be studying and opened it up. It was only twenty minutes later, that she realised she had become engrossed in the book without even realising it.

Her usually flippant mind that jumped from subject to subject seemed sharper and more focused. Sitting down at her desk, she began to study in earnest.

***

Ry opened his eyes and slid easily out of bed. He was usually a night person, so to find not only that he had slept well, but that he didn't feel tired of fatigued was a revelation to him.

He actually felt fucking great this morning. The Crispr solution seemed to be working. Walking to the mirror, Ry grinned in satisfaction. His usually bad skin was clearer and ever so slightly tanned. He had a healthy glow for the first time in years.

In fact his whole body seemed more toned with a healthier shape. He hadn't put any muscle on as far as he could see, but proportionally, everything seemed 'better'. The only downsides were a strange itching and puffiness on his chest and a few other weird changes.

His ass seemed fatter and slightly bigger. His hair seemed to have increased in length and volume. It gave him a rather... feminine... shape. He ignored the strange thrill of delight that brought him.

"It's early days for these changes yet. I just need to give it more time. I'll probably fill out and look more manly in the next stage. Probably to be expected I'd mirror a few of Riley's assets."

He wondered how Riley was getting on...

***

"Amazing," giggled Riley in satisfaction. Her mind was definitely getting faster. The hot sweats had started again earlier and she was having even more difficulty seeing, but it didn't matter to her anymore because the knowledge she was experiencing was so captivating.

She rubbed at her chest. Her boobs were really aching. For some reason her bra didn't seem to fit... it kept dropping down loose. She knew that cup sizes did change, she'd alternated between a 32 and 34 bust for years - but this felt different.

Her boobs seemed noticeably smaller. She'd always been proud of her big bust, her massive tits. Now she felt smaller and weaker without them. Strangely her clit seemed engorged today though. She'd had to stop doing her studying a few times to rub at the stiff little nub between her legs. If she'd had a more active imagination she'd say it seemed to be growing... almost like a tiny little cock.

But that would be crazy... right?

***

Ry rubbed at his chest. There was definitely something there and it was growing at a faster rate now. Sweat dripped from his body and he could almost hear his bones cracking and shifting within his body. It felt... pleasurable and strangely addictive. A desire for more transformation and a faster change rose within him. It felt like something good was happening to him. He wanted more of it.

Ry felt feverish and knew that the Crispr solution was spreading through his body like a virus. It had now reached critical mass and the changes were accelerating. Riley's DNA should be merging with his own, but it didn't feel like that. Something was wrong... or was it... right?

His skin felt softer, his hips seemed to have pushed out wider. The lumps on his chest definitely felt like breasts and his hair had doubled in length again.

"Ohhhhh fuckkkk," he groaned as another series of pops and cracks within his body sent him into spasms of pleasure. "Uggggh, what's happening to me?"

His pushed his chest out and grunted... the bumps on his chest got even bigger.

***

"I can't fucking see," groaned Riley as she reached up to her face. Her vision was totally blurry now. Her body felt wrecked and strangely weak. She looked down. Her chest was smaller now... her once large D cup tits now barely a B cup.

Staggering to her mirror, Riley saw her hair looked shorter. Her skin was paler and her soft feminine features seemed a little more boyish. Her swollen clit had formed a little bulge in her leggings. She could almost imagine a pair of balls were growing underneath it and her pussy sealing up, but that would be crazy!

Riley massaged her throat. Her voice was croaky and there was a strange lump in her throat that she had never noticed before. She'd been told boys had them... Adam's apples they were called.

Sweat dripped down her body. She rubbed at her armpits. They needed shaving again, which was weird because she'd only waxed them a few days ago.

"What the fuck is this solution doing to me?" she groaned. "No increase in intelligence is worth this. I have to find Ry!"

She staggered to the hallway, then out into the living room. Her vision was swimming, she was nearly blind now. Everything ached and her breasts felt even smaller. Her head hurt... she just needed to...

With a groan Riley sank onto a sofa and passed out.

***

Ry groaned as his face burned and his back ached. His hands went to his chest, there were now two big rounded mounds there just like the ones he had always imagined owning when he wore his sisters bra. Sweat was pouring off him and his vision was all blurry. He reached up and tore off his glasses. Strange, but now he could see again.

His voice seemed croaky, his neck sore. His face felt different, the features more delicate. Long hair tickled his neck. "I fucked up somehow," he groaned. "The Crispr is making me INTO Riley. I have to find her and warn her."

Staggering out of the room, dizzy and sick - he staggered into the living room. A figure was passed out on one of the couches. He tried to approach, but instead his legs began to give way. With a groan, Ry staggered to the other couch and collapsed.

Darkness took him and then the strangest dreams he'd ever had.

Meanwhile Riley's DNA continued to consume his own and change his body... the physical changes were now nearly complete...

***

DAY TWO:

Ry awoke and for a second didn't know where he was.

The room smelled different. It smelt of sexy perfume. The sheets around him were pink and girly. Riley's clothes hung on racks around the room, plushies and cushions covered every surface.

He was naked in the bed.

A post it note lay on the table by the bed.

"Morning baby, me and your step-daddy found you and your brother passed out in the lounge. Were you partying last night? We put you both to bed in the right rooms and I undressed you. Were those your brothers clothes you were wearing? What were you doing? Lol Mom. XXX"

Pulling back the sheets, Ry saw his body had completely changed. He was no longer feverish, and the big wobbling tits on his chest were definitely real. His skin was healthy and lightly tanned, he had no body hair except for a tiny strip just above his... pussy?

Reaching down, Ry gasped at the sensation of his new vagina. He snatched his hand back in shock, although the urge to put it back there swiftly returned. Sliding out of the bed, he landed onto small perfect feet, then padding quietly across the room, he reached the mirror and stared in wonder.

Riley looked back at him. Well almost. He didn't have Riley's tattoos or her ear, nose or navel piercings. He didn't have any makeup on and his hair was a mess. His fingers and toes were unmanicured... but other than that... he looked just like her.

"Holy shit," he said in her voice.

The resemblance was so perfect, that last night her own Mother hadn't recognised that he was not really her girl. Riley's DNA had changed him into her. That probably meant in the other bedroom, Riley was now waking up as a physical copy of him.

And yet it wasn't just the physical changes. Something profound had happened to his mind, to his very soul.

The Crispr virus had infiltrated every cell of Ry's body, including his brain. He had been rewired and altered. He felt a new natural confidence, sexual assurance and a strong desire to monopolise on this situation. His personality was now more like Riley's than ever before. Even in his darkest dreams he could never have imagined being such a fucking bitch.

"Yesssss, I've always wanted to be Riley," he said in a slightly evil voice. "Mmmmh, I think I knew what that Crispr virus was going to do to us... but I did it anyway. I did it because I wanted to steal her life. I want to be Riley Grey... not Riley Green."

"And now that I used the Crispr," he purred allowing this delicious new persona to take control, "I am. Even Mommy thinks that I am. I am fucking Riley Grey and I want it ALL."

A wicked grin appeared on his face and he allowed his body language to relax. How did hot girls stand... ahhh yes, like this.

"These big tits are mine, mmmmh and this perfect ass. I've been remade in your image," he laughed. "A couple of trips to the hairdressers and the tattoo artists to get inked up and pierced... and no one would ever know the difference between us. This is my chance to assume your life and become the new you. I'm not going to waste it."

Riley smiled as she began looking for some clothes to wear. She just had to make 'Ry' understand that it was best to go along with what she wanted. The switch in pronouns was so easy to make... it suited her like a glove.

She was a woman now, she had all the equipment and soon no one would ever know she had ever been her dorky step-brother...

She just had to manipulate him the correct way.

***

Riley awoke feeling like death. Her vision was still blurry and she felt weak and wiped out.

"Here, put these on," said a familiar voice and her vision swam back into focus as a pair of glasses slid onto her face. "Don't panic. It's me, your step-brother. Honestly, I didn't plan for this to happen. The Crispr has gone wrong... I tried it too using one of your hairs. I'm afraid we've become copies of each other."

Riley gasped as she saw herself sitting on the end of the bed. Her hair was a fucking mess and she needed some makeup, but other than that it was definitely her.

Pulling back the sheets, she groaned in a very masculine sounding voice. Her body was now entirely masculine, a small cock and a pair of balls between her legs. Her boobs were gone and her flabby white body was that of a nerdy dork.

"Oh no, we have to fix this."

"I know," said her doppleganger, "but there's a big problem. We're changing mentally as well as physically. I'm not smart enough to make the Crispr anymore so I need you help to make a new batch, then we can try to reverse these changes. "

"But I don't know how to do it either," she complained.

"I'm sure you'll find a way," purred her twin. "I'll give you the notes I made and hopefully you can decode them. In the meantime we need to act like each other so no one gets suspicious. We'll have to dress like we normally would, you'll have to hide those tattoos and those piercings. I don't know how long we might be stuck like this. I guess it could be weeks!"

***

DAY THIRTY

It had been a month.

Riley and Riley were becoming more and more like each other by the day.

Ry, as he was now known, had still not figured out how to make the Crispr. Probably because before she had given him the notes - the new Riley had made sure to delete certain important elements from the research.

Genuinely she wasn't smart enough anymore to remember or understand what she had removed - just that it had been enough to stop him. Hopefully that would be enough.

Riley didn't want a way back. She wanted to go deeper and deeper into this rabbit hole of femininity. In the last month she had discovered that being a hot, popular, girl was pretty much as amazing as she had dreamed it would be.

First of all there was the makeup and the clothes. They all made her look and feel incredible. If that wasn't enough, there was the enjoyment of sex.

Remembering that buzzing she'd heard all that time ago, Riley had uncovered the sex-toy collection. The first time she'd pushed a magic wand against her clit and felt it throb and vibrate, she'd known she was now a female sex addict.

It hadn't taken long to move from toys to the real thing... boys. There were plenty of guys wanting to fuck a hot slut like her, and after a couple of introductory sessions with some of Riley's ex-lovers - the new Riley had really picked up the pace.

There was nothing quite like bouncing on some hard cock and cumming all over it as a girl. It was such a good feeling.

If that wasn't enough, there was the social life. Riley loved being the centre of attention now... going to parties, having fun, everyone wanting to be her friend. She found the company of other hot girls intoxicating. To be part of the squad was like a dream come true.

Riley understood now she'd always harboured these desires. She'd always wanted to be like her step-sister and the Crispr had provided a way.

Of course, that meant that the new Ry probably now harboured her old desires... to cross dress and be a girl. They had probably only been heightened by the loss of his actual femininity.

Riley wondered if she could use that against him...

She wondered just how far it was possible to gaslight her new step-brother...

***

DAY 60

"Babe. What the fuck are you actually talking about? What Crispr research, I didn't delete anything from your hard-drive."

Ry stared at his sister in astonishment. Over the last few months he'd come to think of himself as male - it was somehow easier that way. His memories of being Riley were a confusing mess, sometimes it didn't even feel real. That was why it was now so confusing when Riley actually suggested it wasn't.

Over the last few days she'd been acting increasingly difficult. She kept giving him blank looks when he mentioned getting their bodies back and she had been dropping hints in from of him that he might be losing his mind.

"Listen Ry, I know you have this weird fetish for dressing up in my clothes... I found one of my bras in your room."

"Wh? WHAT? Well, those ARE my clothes," he growled angrily. "Before we swapped, those were ALL my clothes."

"Swapped, what the hell are you taking about? You keep going on about this weird dream fantasy of yours. Are you really suggesting that two months ago we both drank a formula that altered our DNA and turned us into each other. Don't you think that sounds kinda crazy?"

"It's not crazy... and when I find the research, I'll prove it to you!"

Riley watched him go with an evil smile on her perfect lips.

***

DAY 260

Riley sighed as her annoying step-bro peeked through her door. He was such a fucking pervert and always hanging around. He was easy to convince though. Sometimes she had trouble remembering her own lies now - manipulating him was getting easier by the day.

"Hey loser, get out of here. I told you I'm about to stream and I don't want you watching me."

"But Riley, I think I found something. A blog about this girl called Laura Sims, the same thing happened to her... I think."

"What thing?"

"You know, the Crispr solution... the DNA exchange. The personality and memory changes."

"Listen Ry, I already told you I don't know what the fuck you are talking about. Worse than that, I think it's time you admitted the truth. Do you really think a pathetic little loser like you could ever have been a beautiful gorgeous woman like me? Does it seem possible? Of course not. You're a boy and you've always been a boy."

"I have? What about these weird scars I have. They could be from tattoo removal right? Maybe I once had the same tattoos as you?"

"You know you got those in a fire right? Are you really suggesting that once you were me. That you had these tattoos and these piercings? That you and me somehow swapped lives and then I gaslit you into believing you had always been a boy?"

"I know it sounds crazy but..."

"It does sound crazy. Would it even matter? Would anyone believe you? I think you'll be happier if you just accept things are this way now, whatever you believe."

Sliding her hand onto his crotch, Riley grinned as she saw her step-brothers expression go soft.

"Mmmmh, why don't we stroke this little cock of yours to make it feel all better. Hmmmm?"

Ry groaned as his step-sister expertly jerked him off till he groaned and came. He watched her hot manicured hands slowly pump him up and down, draining his cock and all resistance out of him.

"There now. Feel better?"

"Yessss," he groaned.

"Good boy. Now get out of here. Go and goon in your room or something."

***

Listening to her step-brother grunting next door as he jerked off wearing her bra, Riley Grey played with her pussy and looked at herself in the mirror. Damn she was perfect. She was beautiful and sexy and hot. She loved being a girl.

She didn't even miss her old boy smarts. Who needed brains when you looked this good? Then again, she'd been doing a little research lately. She and Laura Richie had made contact and she had been intrigued by what she had found out.

She'd found out from the other girl that there was a second serum... one designed to improve the effects of the first. One that would make her a Goddess.

Maybe it was time to begin another new experiment...

THE END?

#evie hyde #m2f transformation #m2f corruption #Crispr Solution #popular bitch #bitchification #gaslighting

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immortalbutterflycos · 3 months

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Can someone out there write a Jegulus competitive ballroom dance AU? I've been watching those videos where there are 2 people at an improve competition and they've never met before let alone danced together and then they end up having immaculate chemistry and decide to be each other's dance partners.

I would write it myself, but i know absolutely nothing about dancing. Competitive or otherwise. But I would kill to read this.

In the meantime, I guess I'll just have to reread 'You Signed Up For This' by Sollmussa because honestly, the dancing in that one wrecked me beyond repair.

Okay, I thought was done, but I'm so not. Here are some things about the AU that I desperately crave:

Latino James. Dance is actually his 3rd language and he's fluent.

Effie and Monty met each other in a dance class when they were teens, and then they were paired up with each other by the teacher. They had a bit of a rivalry at first, but then as they started dancing together more and more, they fell in love. The two ended up becoming very famous competitive ballroom dancers and retired when they had James. They never stopped dancing though and they engrained that love into James

Former Ballet dancer Regulus. He stopped dancing ballet after he finally left his family home to live with Sirius. He still loves dancing, but ballet has too many bad memories attached to it and he lost his love for it.

Sirius introduced him to this type of competitive dance via Effie's class. He still doesn't meet James until he's actually at a competition though. ^.^

Bonus:

Pandora and Evan did ballet with Regulus and Sirius when they were kids but left to do other types of dance before they were even teenagers.

Evan and Panda used to dance competitively together until Regulus needed a partner for his first competition and Pandora volunteered. Evan was cool with it, because it's Regulus, but there's a tiny part of him that's just like, 'Well who am I going to dance with then?'

Enter Barty, someone who is known among other dancers for being notorious for scaring away his dance partners.

Holy shit guys I take it all back. I need to write this. Forget the fact that I don't know anything, ja boi is gonna have to fucking learn.

Stay tuned because I might have some brainrot about this one as things progress~

#competitive ballroom dancing AU #jegulus #aka Quinn has read a couple ballroom dance manga and watched some people dance online and is now an expert #the marauders #wolfstar #marauders era #regulus black #james potter #sirius black #starchaser #remus lupin #rosekiller #self indulgent #euphemia potter #effie potter #fleamont potter #latino james potter

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st-el-la-luna · 4 months

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It's Not Enough: Captain John Price x Reader

(sorry for vanishing I am mentally unwell)

An injury leaves the Task Force's Captain unable to do all that he usually does. You're more than happy to help.

NSFW 18+

➔ gn!reader ("you"/"your" pronouns, described as "pretty" once), Price is readers boss, pillow fucking, desperate almost subby Price

unedited, written on mobile in Spanish class

It wasn't fair to say that the mission went south. It's not like the Task Force failed it or anything. You guys secured the intel you needed and cleared the base no problem.

Except there was a problem. Your intel on the enemy operation had been spotty and it turns out the enemy was more prepared than you all had been lead to thought.

Sitting silently in the back of the truck you all quietly lick your wounds. Soap had been stabbed, "'tis just a scratch," he had announced before taking out three men with an improved explosive. (Ghost hit him for that one) (the Shakespeare reference. Not the bomb). Gaz and Ghost both were shot, the former in the knee and the latter, grazed on the neck by a bullet that very well could have killed him. You got a little too close to a grenade and now your ears are ringing and you're covered cuts and scrapes from the shrapnel, bits of metal still embedded in your skin.

Price got it the worst though. One of the enemy soldiers managed to sneak up on him. This hulking, unit of a man who made Ghost, Ghost, look like a gangly teen.

You always wondered how Ghost, being as big as he is, could move so quietly so quickly. This enemy soldier made you think that maybe you were just loud and slow.

Not a single person realized that the soldier was there until it was too late. He tackled Price, knocking the gun from his hands then threw him, literally threw him, like a doll, over the catwalk ledge.

Price was lucky though, in a sense, because he crashed to the ground close enough to you and Gaz that you could provide him cover.

He was unlucky, or maybe just stupid, because he tried to catch his fall. His fall from three stories up.

With his hands.

Never have you heard bones snap so loud.

You glance across the truck at him. He's breathing slowly and deliberately, self-soothing. His hands resting on his thighs, fingers twitching occasionally, but otherwise motionless.

"Hey, look on the bright side, Captain," you say with a crooked grin, blinking away the blood dripping from a gash above your eye. "At least you won't have to do any paperwork for a while."

"Won't be able to jack off either," Soap adds with a crow of laughter. "Poor lil John's gonnae be black and blue... Won't even be able to feel the pain in yer hands over the straining of your–"

"That'll do!" Ghost snaps, ever the one to keep Soap in line.

It's quiet for the rest of the way back to base. It's quiet as you all head to medical for treatment. You're all drained, happy with a job well done, but exhausted from, well, everything.

Tired and sore, you decide to forgo dinner in order to catch some extra sleep. You're walking through the halls when you pass by Price's office.

The door is cracked open, which is unusual, and a rhythmic sound tumbles out into the hallway. A blend between panting and grunting.

He groans out a frustrated, "Fucking... Ah... Fucking hell!"

"Captain?" You ask hesitantly, knocking on the door. You hear shuffling inside, the rustling of cloth, soft jingle of metal. "I, uh... Everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," he grits out, breathless and frustrated. "I'm just..." More rustling. "Fuck!"

"Can I come in?" You ask, already opening the door.

He doesn't say no. In fact, he doesn't say anything. Until you've got the door open and are left staring at the scene before you.

"I didn't want anyone seeing me like this..." He grumbles.

He's standing behind his desk, both hands and forearms in casts. He's struggling with a zip up hoodie, tangled in the fabric as he tries to put it on.

You fight back the urge to laugh and succeed. You fight back the urge to smile and fail. "Want some help with that, Captain?"

"Please."

This continues for the duration of his injury, him coming to you for help with tasks he can't do himself. For as long as he's in those casts, you're at his beck and call.

It's not uncommon for you to be called away from some mundane task to help the Captain with something equally mundane. But hey, at least you get to spend time with your Captain.

Your handsome, rugged, often flushed as of late, Captain.

You're captain whose casts you've wrapped before he can shower. Whose shirts you've helped put on. Whose hair you've brushed. Beard you've combed. Whose-

You keep having to tell yourself that this doesn't mean anything. The only reason he comes to you and no one else is because, well, he doesn't want anyone else seeing him like this.

So what if he blushes when you help secure his belt around his hips? Or when your fingers graze his neck as you button his collar. So what if once or twice while youve helped him dress your hand has brushed his cock (and oh, it's big), and it's jumped to attention. It's a natural reaction, really. Price never even mentions it. He's probably embarrassed. Ashamed. Nothing more to it.

But what if...?

No. You tell yourself sternly. Bad. That's your boss.

But...

He has been calling on you more. Has been standing closer. Leaning in when you speak. Burying his nose into your hair before you leave his room and inhaling through his nose, then shutting the door on you, leaving you a little dazed and more than a little confused in the hall.

Still. It doesn't mean anything. You've just never spent this much time with him. Maybe this is normal.

You're in the armory with Soap and Gaz when your phone goes off in your pocket. Price is calling.

"Captain?" You ask, holding the phone between your shoulder and ear as you continue to clean your rifle. "Everything okay?"

"I know I told you I wouldn't need anything until later, but I... I need your help," he says, his voice gruff and rumbling. "Now."

Soap mimes a blow job and Gaz snickers, shouldering him playfully.

"Could have called anyone, Captain," Soap calls out loud enough for Price to hear through the phone. "What is it you need help with that only our pretty little Corporal can do? Hmm?"

"Shut up, Soap," Price grumbles.

"Captain says to shut up, Johnny," you relay to Soap. He laughs.

"I need your help," Price repeats, his breath stuttering slightly.

"Alright," you say, setting the rifle down. "What with?"

"I'm..." his words are cut off by a groan and the sound of shuffling, followed by something clattering to the floor. "Fuck... I'm trying to..." He pauses, breathing heavy. "Tryna trim my beard and I.. Just get over here quick."

"Aye, sir. I'll be in your office soon."

"Not my office. My quarters."

You pause, holding the phone properly now. "I... Your quarters, Captain?"

Soap snickers, and thrusts his hips into the air a couple times. You flip him off.

"Yes," he says. "It's where I keep my products."

"Right, of course," you shake your head. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Good," he says, letting out a breathy sound through his nose. "I can't deal with this any longer..."

"Your beard has gotten scruffy," you muse.

"I... Just... Hurry." He hangs up.

"Getting out of work early again, huh?" Gaz asks with a grin. "Or should I say getting off work early?"

"Not you too," you whine, flipping the pair of them off as you leave the room.

You don't catch what Soap says, his words muffled by his accent and the closing door. Judging by the raucous laughter that breaks out when he's done, you figure that might be for the best.

You get to Price's room and knock, waiting a beat before turning the knob. "Hey, Captain, just a heads up, I've never actually trimmed a beard before but I–"

You stare at the scene before you with wide eyes, blood rushes to your cheeks as your jaw drops.

"Close the door," Price grunts, staring up at you from his place on the bed. On his knees, forearms braced against the mattress, his face red, jaw slack as he lets out rhythmic pants and groans.

You don't dwell on it. Instead, your attention is drawn to the clumsy, desperate movement of his hips as he ruts desperately against his pillow. His pillow which is covered in... Is that one of your workout shirts?

"I... Captain?!" You squeak in surprise, taking a slight step back.

"Soap was right," he grumbles, humping and grinding and moaning into the pillow. Into your shirt. Your shirt. This is happening. This is real. Price inhales deeply through his nose, his tongue lolling out. "Haven't... Haven't been able to... It's... I... It hurts, i... I thought this would... it worked before but i... It's not... not enough, I.. Help... Please."

Slowly, hesitantly, you shut and lock the door behind you. "Oh, so you've done this before?" You quirk a brow as you approach his bed. "Fucked into your pillow like a desperate whore thinking it was me?"

He whines, actually whines, and his hips falter for a second before speeding up. With each forward stroke of his hips you can catch a glimpse of his cock. Thick and red and painfully hard, dripping so much precum it looks like he's already cum before you got here. "Don't... Don't tease me, Corporal... Don't forget who's in charge here."

"Seems to me, Captain, that I'm the one in charge here," you hum, slowly kneeling on the bed. He looks up at you through his sweaty fringe, his breaths hot and wet when they fan against your skin. "I mean, you're the one who needs help, after all... You're the one whose job could be on the line... I doubt the higher ups would be thrilled to find you like this, all backed up and desperate for one of your soldiers?"

His eyelids flutter, he bites his lips muffling a growl that crescendos into a moan when you cradle his face. "Stop, I... I just... It hurts..."

"I'm sure it does," you hum sympathetically, running a hand through his hair. "Been too long, hasn't it?"

He keens and leans into your touch, drool dribbles from his lips. "I... Weeks, may, ah, maybe a month... Or longer... I-I need it... Please."

"Well, that just won't do," you tut, shaking your head in mock sympathy. You tighten your grip on his hair and he bows, arching his back like it's his job. "Just look at you, Captain..."

Please reblog to support my writing!

He whines and you shush him gently, hand sliding from his hair to cup his jaw and chin, forcing him to look up at you. "Don't worry, Captain... I plan to do a lot more than just stare..."

Masterlist

#call of duty #cod mwii #cod #captain price #john price #captain john price #captain price x reader #price x reader #cod x reader #x reader

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omgjumin · 11 months

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teen nanami kento having a crush on you headcanons !

tags: jjk manga spoliers (kind of?) thats it, mentions of haibara

part two (coming soon)

okay so personally i think nanami would be a bit more reserved when it comes to you in highschool

- with nanami i think he wouldn't have confessed his feelings for you until he came Back into the sorcery world after his salaryman career

- like let's be honest, after haibara died, nanami completely shut himself out from the sorcerer world after he graduated. but that didn't stop him from thinking about you everywhere he went

- you never left his mind even after he left. if he thought his crush on you in highschool was embarrassing then, he should take a look in the mirror

- in highschool, both of you were first years and the way you got introduced to each other first was through gojo, your upperclassman, but when classes started you went on multiple missions together and thats when you started to get closer

- haibara was actually very happy that nanami was getting close to someone that wasn't him. sometimes he would "accidentally" leave you two alone in the same room for long periods of time while he ran an "errand". (spolier alert! he never came back)

- nanami hated being left alone with you but when you two actually talked to each other, it wasn't all that bad. throughout the school year, he would secretly anticipate the conversations you guys had. that's when he started to develop feelings for you, no matter how hard he tries to deny it.

- when he comes to his senses that he has a crush on you, he has a whole different perspective. the way he interacts w you is different. not in the way he treats u but in the way he reacts to your presence. his body language changes, aura around him changes and suddenly the atmosphere is so sharp it could cut. nanami never asks you straight up but haibara sure does take on the role of wingman and asks you multiple romantic questions

- like "what's your ideal type?" "if you could date anyone here, who would you date and why?" "do you find any student attractive here?" "how would you want someone to ask you out?" etc etc

- you feel like everytime you meet up with haibara a new question arises. you'd start to get suspicious about his intentions if he started hinting that something was abt to happen.

- teen nanami will always try his best to remain the same around you. calm and collected. but anytime he goes on a mission with you alone after he realizes his crush, he gets so nervous (silently though), he wants to improve his technique, stay strong so he could protect you. and that stays the same even after haibara died.

note: im going to have to make a part two for this bc nanami's got too long nd i have a lot in mind for gojo's 😭 so part two will be coming soon (hopefully)

( requested by @arabzian )

#nanami fluff #nanami angst #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento angst #nanami headcanons #nanami x reader #jjk fluff #jjk angst #jjk x reader #jjk headcanons #nanami kento headcanons #gojo fluff #gojo angst #gojo satoru fluff #gojo headcanons #omgjumin

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evignonita · 3 months

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I always thought of teen tycho and vidcund talking and pascal STARING at them in the background bc of what happened in the psp version

I feel like Tycho wouldn't understand why uncle vidcund is always so awkward (if more is possible) around em since Pascal never said anything to Tycho about that event since they can't remember. That happening again is a constant fear in Pascals overprotective dad mind

I love Tycho and I needed to write this somewherw I'm so sorry

SORRY FOR TAKING TOO LONG TO ANSWER THIS, i made this drawing in class and i'm posting it at lunchhh

I COMPLETELY AGREE WITH YOU, I think pascal doesn't like that tycho talks to vidcund, but he doesn't forbid it because he thinks it's unfair (tycho doesn't know what happened), so he lets vidcund be present in some way in tycho's life; i even think pascal is looking for some way to "forgive" vidcund but he just can't

Vidcund improved his relationship with lazlo after what happened on the PSP, but it took years for that to happen. Vidcund is not a villain and lazlo knows it, but they can't force pascal to forgive vidcund, and viddy understands that

Pascualín papá luchon my beloved, Y NO TE DISCULPES PORFAAA, amo cuando me envían cosas así 💓💪💪

#ts2 #the sims 2 #ts2 premades #the sims 2 premades #strangetown #simblr #pascal curious #tycho curious #vidcund curious #fanart #ts2 fanart #the sims 2 fanart #weas

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littlestpetgoth · 6 months

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the big Tris post. here it is.

(originally i had it so that his parents were dead and he grew up alone, somehow surviving on his own and integrating himself into society, but that’s kind of ridiculous so i decided i'd scrap that narrative and make his experiences more human.)

for as long as tris has been alive it’s been noticed that his body has been capable of quickly recovering from any injury. as a child his scraped knees would smooth over by the next day, his paper cuts heal in instants, broken bones were better after a night’s rest. he was blessed with some kind of miracle that kept him safe from harm, it really helped his family save on medical bills, but as he grew older he started to see this blessing as more of a curse.

tris has always isolated himself, even at a young age. he purposely went to spots of the playground where no one else would play, ignored other children who would approached him, actively went out of his way to be alone. he doesn't like being around others and gets overwhelmed when forced into social situations. his overwhelming feelings sometimes grow into violence and he would lash out at his peers and hurt them when he got frustrated, throwing objects and tugging whatever he could grab onto, so most of the time he was left alone to avoid these outbursts. he grew up with few to no friends given how difficult it was to be around him.

tris takes out a lot of his frustrations and confusions not only on others but also on himself. even at a young age

his parents had him set up with a behavioral therapist to try to understand why he would lash out this way and why he wanted to be alone, and his answers have always been straight forward. he doesn't want to, and he doesn't like it. he doesn't like the way it feels to be in crowded classrooms, he doesn't like how noisy the other children are, and he doesn't like looking at the smiles his teachers give him to try to get him comfortable. His parents still had hope that he'd eventually open up and be like a normal child so they continued letting him go to public school. His teachers would avoid forcing him to closely participate with the other students for their safety. These efforts didn't mean things got better or anything.

tris at a young age developed a fascination for dead things. dead animals, dead plants, little tris would always somehow get his grubby little hands on something deceased. he has no respect for the dead by any means but instead his fascination is in the reactions that others have towards the dead. tris's favorite activity as a child was dangling a dead animal in the face of the kids around him. the kids around him were afraid of whatever awful thing he'd pull out of his pocket next, running away from him and scooting their seats to be as far as they possibly could. this reputation further isolated him, and even got him into some trouble with kids who didn't like his odd and awful behavior. there were many fights, scuffles, insults thrown his way. he was infamous for being problematic and no one wanted to try getting to know him, they all knew he was going to pull out some dead bug and throw it in their hair whenever he got the chance.

in tris's teen years he hasn't improved much, but has found a couple of ways of coping that keep the people around him safe. he's occupied himself with creating art, sculptures and drawings depicting his thoughts and fantasies, they're morbid and grotesque and one of the few things he finds joy in. he does his best to completely isolate himself and skips out on classes just to be alone with a sketchbook. around this time he also was coming to terms with his own identity, he doesn't like to identify as trans and just claims he's always been a boy and snaps at people who question that. he's overwhelmed with anxieties and frustrations when interacting with people in person, face to face, but he feels a lot more confident when socializing behind a screen via the internet.

it's easier to hide his face and figure, easier to get in touch with many people, and easier to lurk and observe without having to leave the safety and comfort of his room. he loves to start fights online, anonymously, and send horrific images and videos to unsuspecting people that make him feel sick. some of this content he's curated from various parts of the net but a lot of it he's made himself. diy snuff films feat yours truly, he enjoys brutalizing himself and sending it to his poor victims, relishing in their horrified reactions. of course he's ran into a few individuals who are fascinated with him, and want to learn more about him or get him to make personalized content, but he has no interest in interacting with these few and is irritated by their existence. alongside harassing and haunting the poor souls who catch his attention, tris posts his work on an art account where he eventually learns to take commissions from. he doesn't have much interest in games, movies and shows, or comics. every now and then he'll find something just to make the day go by faster.

tris has cycled through several therapists, has been prescribed various medication from a psychiatrist, has even been sent to camps to try and fix his odd and destructive behaviors but he is very uncooperative. he's made little progress in his journey of bettering himself and doesn't care to put any effort in it, even feeling resentful towards his parents for forcing him to even try. they've spent a lot of time and money into trying to find out what's wrong with him and trying to get him to be a normal child with friends and normal hobbies, but their every attempt has been for nothing. sometimes it seems tris lashes out in spite. he's also spoken with school counselors numerous times, they've tried to get a better understanding of him, he always shuts them out and doesn't reveal anything about his thoughts and feelings or why he does the things he does.

because he pays little attention in school and skips out frequently, he's been held back a year or two academically. tris has done some summer schooling to make up for this but he cares so little about his education that it hasn't caught him up. he still gets in trouble with other students and often is caught up in fights with peers who think he should be punished for his awful behavior (deserved really). he gets the shit beaten out of him pretty often, by bullies and what not, it makes him angry but he's not strong enough to fight back very well. he has resorted to keeping sharp objects on him that he can use to do real damage, and this has gotten him into so much trouble that he's been expelled from schools and forced to transfer elsewhere. he's in and out of hospitals and juvenile detention for all sorts of shenanigans.

there's no real specific events to make note of, a lot of his memories are a blur and people rarely capture his interest enough to remember them at all. he gets into photography at some point and starts taking photos of anything disgusting or depressing he can find. garbage, dead animals, puddles of blood after whatever he gets himself into, crying children, it's a miserable collection of things but it's what he likes to focus on. he'll photograph people at the park while people watching and imagine horrible things he thinks they deserve to go through just for existing.

ill wrap this up quickly because it's a long stupid post and i really don't need to keep going into depth on him, but one day while out taking photos he spots a young man. something about this boy captured tris's attention unlike anyone he's ever seen - maybe the way he smiled or the way he spoke so enthusiastically to others - and tris latched onto this feeling as hard as he could.

he found where he worked, where he lived, where he went to school where he liked to shop what he liked to do what his routine was. every thing tris could learn about this boy he managed to get his grimy hands on, that boy was cody. (ko's silly little emo boy oc)

tris had found a new hobby: stalking a guy he'd never spoken to, a guy who didn't even know he existed, and he hated him. he hated him with every cell in his body, seeing his stupid cheesy grin made his stomach churn and hearing his obnoxious voice made his jaw clench tighter. he wanted nothing more than to ruin the happiness that this young man experienced day to day. so what does any deranged teenager do when you hate someone? you cyber bully them online and send them cryptic awful messages until you see them break.

he'd dm him on throwaway accounts, sending images of his mutilation and paragraphs of graphic threats. cody never did anything to wrong tris, poor thing was probably scared out of his mind. what do you do when some crazy stranger is stalking you and sending you graphic content? probably block them over and over and over and just hope they leave you alone. but tris was determined. determined to make this guy who radiated light succumb to the darkness and also probably kill himself. he wanted to do everything he could to make cody miserable and to get rid of the swarming thoughts in his mind..

one day tris visited cody's place of work (i think its like a gas station, some sort of small store) and he is watching him quietly in a corner while pretending like he's shopping around. either cody got suspicious of him, or wanted to make sure he was ok, something happened that got cody to speak up and say hello to tris.. and tris froze up! he froze up, couldn't muster out a response and couldn't brush him off like he could other people. he could feel his heart pounding and his face get all hot.. darted out of the shop with several things stuffed into his pockets and got the hell out of there.. probably threw up afterwards. humiliating experience, unexplainable feelings. but those feelings weren't hatred and anger like before.. turns out he had a big gay crush on this white boy and didn't know what to do with himself. but he didn't know how to go about it .

idk. some more stuff between them, they warm up to each other and tris stops sending cody evil malicious messages. they're like totally in love... and tris is super possessive over him (craazy) while cody is doing his best to live with the horror that is tris yeah lol. its like. toxic evil yaoi to normal loving and sweet romance between two emo boys.

rushed at the end because otherwise i would never upload this, its been ssitting here for i think months now. tris means a lot to me.

#oc #gore #blood #tris #pookie :3 #sh scars #ref #death #dead animal #blarrh #cw

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woso-dreamzzz · 6 months

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Teenage Dirtbag

Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Teen!Reader

Summary: Ingrid just doesn't understand you

Mapi had never met you before.

She's met the rest of the Engen family. She's met the family pets. But you'd never been around she visited with Ingrid, like your family had put you as far away as possible when she met them.

Like you were something to be ashamed of.

It's a bit of a bad first impression to make when you're shipped from your boarding school, back home and then straight over to Spain to live with her and Ingrid.

She doesn't even get to introduce herself before Ingrid's laying into you.

"Again?" She demands as soon as you're safely in the back seat of the car," Expelled...again?"

"It's not a big deal," You mutter, slouching in your seat and pulling your hood over your head.

"Not a big deal...Not a big deal?! You've been kicked out of school! You've been kicked out of the house! Oh, but it's not a big deal?!"

Mapi's never seen Ingrid so angry before but you're taking it like a champ, looking out the window and generally ignoring your sister even as she snaps at you.

"Are you done?" You ask in the most bored tone you can manage.

Ingrid takes a breath. "Ye-" She catches sight of you in the rear view mirror and whips around to face you. "Is that a hickey?!"

"Do we have to do this?" You groan," You ask me if I've got a hickey. I give you an answer you don't like. You yell. Can we just skip to the bit after you scold me?"

Ingrid's practically bubbling in rage sitting in the passenger seat and Mapi's left scrambling trying to diffuse the tension.

"So..." She says eventually," You like football?" It's a weak redirection but it gets an amused scoff out of Ingrid as she rolls her eyes.

"I'm not into exercising willingly," Is your answer," It's alright from a distance. Even better when a girl's doing it."

Ingrid groans louder now and swats at your knees but it's teasing and it's like all of her anger from earlier has melted away. "Don't," She says warningly though a hint of amusement is still present in her voice," There'll be none of that here. You're here to focus and to study and to better your grades."

You send her a lopsided smile. "How am I supposed to improve perfection?"

It's that evening after you've retreated to your room that Ingrid is left in a slump over your grades and your truancy records.

"I don't get it," She says to Mapi," She misses almost every class but she has perfect marks. It's like she doesn't even have to try."

Mapi shrugs. "Maybe she doesn't," Is her response," Some people just get school better than others. To be honest, if it's this easy then that's probably why she never turns up."

"And the hickies?"

"She's hormonal?" Mapi doesn't really have an answer to that as she's handed your transcript.

"And this?"

Ingrid slides Mapi a picture. It's of one of this out buildings that every school has that they swear is temporary but never go unused.

"That's..."

Mapi stares at the side of the building. She stares at the colours on the wall, at the way they weave expertly in and out of each other. She stares at the shading and the light.

"I know," Ingrid says, her face all scrunched up and Mapi gets the idea that they're not on the same page.

"It's brilliant."

"It's disrespectful."

They both spoke at the same time. They exchange a confused look with each other before turning their gazes back to study the picture.

It's clearly spray paint, the mural that you've done on the side of one of your school buildings. Usually, Mapi would see tags on railway lines out of spray paint. But, somehow, your mural is hyper realistic (Mapi would even go so far as to say photorealistic).

It's...Well Mapi doesn't quite have the words to explain it.

"I'd love to see what she could do with a pencil."

"Mapi!" Ingrid hisses," Don't encourage her!"

"No, no," Mapi backtracks quickly," I get it, totally. She shouldn't have done it there. It's wrong and it's bad but Ingrid! Look at it! People dream of having talent like that!"

For the entire night and the coming days after, Mapi thinks about the mural you did it on your school.

She ends up asking Ingrid for your Instagram during the lunch break at training. Ingrid gives it to her with a confused look.

"If you're going to use it to try and work out where this behaviour is coming from, it's useless," Ingrid says with a defeated sigh," I've already gone through it all."

That wasn't what Mapi was planning to do at all so she just offers Ingrid a little smile and a promise to see what she could find. To her disappointment, no more of your artwork has been posted on your main account.

She scrolls through your following list, all the way to the bottom, to find an account that she's positive is your secret one. Its username is a bunch of random letters followed by dot-art and its profile picture is the mural on the side of your school building.

Mapi feels like she's hit the jackpot as she scrolls through it (feeling pleased with herself when she notices a bunch of your school friends follow this account too so it must be you). You've got hundreds of posts up, detailing murals you've done around your hometown and your school. There's a few still life drawings and a huge oil paint piece on a massive canvas. There's an image of a drawing that's clearly done in pen on someone's arm.

It's photorealistic just like your spray paint piece and, if you were older, Mapi would probably beg you to be her tattoo artist.

When she and Ingrid get back to the house, you're napping at the kitchen table.

Ingrid swears under her breath, rousing you from your sleep. "I told you to do your school work," She says.

You shrug. "I did." You shove your notepad towards her. "It's not my fault that it's not difficult."

"You've done the bare minimum."

You shrug. "I'm not into doing more than I have to."

The tension in the air is practically electric as you both stare each other down.

"Lose the attitude," Ingrid says," I'm trying to help you here. Mum and Dad won't let you back home until you clean your act up."

You mutter something under your breath and Ingrid goes rigid.

"Don't say that!" She snaps," They want what's best for you! We want what's best for you!"

"They want what's best for them!" You snap back. In the few weeks that Mapi's known you, you're the most laidback teenager she's ever met. You've never once really bit back at Ingrid, no matter how hard she pushed you.

Ingrid's tough love had seemed to be working. You napped regularly, yes, but you got all of your schoolwork done. You don't come home with hickeys and no strange murals have appeared in Barcelona by your hands.

She must have hit a sore spot for you.

"You're smart," Ingrid says," You're so smart and I don't understand why you don't apply yourself more! If you worked properly, you could graduate early and be at university already!"

"There's nothing at university that interests me," You mutter," It's a waste of time."

"It's not a waste of time!" Ingrid retorts," What are you going to do when you finish school, huh? Do you even have a plan?!"

Mapi sees your eyes dart to where your sketchpad sits a few feet away. She can see the cogs turning in your head.

You stay silent.

Ingrid sighs, hands clenched into two shaking fists. "I love you," She says," But you need to get yourself together." She shoves your papers right back at you.

"I've already finished it!"

"You've done the bare minimum." She swipes your sketchbook off of the table. "Sit down. Do it properly."

"Give it back!"

Ingrid's tall and, even though she's your sister, she's still tall enough to hold your book over her head so you can't reach it. "You get it back when you do your work properly."

"Give it!"

"No!"

"Ingrid, hand it over!"

"Do your work!"

"Urgh! I hate you!"

"Well, too bad. Because I love you!"

You slump into the seat with a scream that makes Mapi's ears ring a bit but you grab your pen and start on your schoolwork again.

"Come on," Mapi says softly, drawing Ingrid into their bedroom and shutting the door.

Ingrid throws your sketchbook onto the bed and paces, pulling at her hair in frustration.

"What-What did she say?" Mapi asks, her mind playing that moment when Ingrid went stiff over and over again.

"She said that she wished Mum and Dad got rid of her when they had the chance...you know...when she was..."

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh." Ingrid groans. "I-I just don't understand her! She's so smart! She has her pick of everywhere! Mum and Dad can get her into medical school! It's like she has no ambition!"

Mapi types into her phone. "Have you considered that, maybe, going to medical school and university isn't exactly for her? I mean, you went straight into football."

Ingrid sighs, the tension draining somewhat from her body. "Mapi...It's different. I had a passion for football even when I was younger. I practiced every day. I knew what I wanted."

"She practices something every day," Mapi replies," And she's so good at it. Honestly, Ingrid, it's a little annoying that you and your family haven't noticed."

She turns her phone around, to a post on your secret Instagram account. It's tagged as a city a few hours away from your old boarding school.

On the side of a crumbling house is a spray paint mural of Norway's women's team. It's got everyone on it, photorealistic like all of your other murals. Ingrid's in the middle though, beaming a smile that you can see reaches her eyes.

"What?" The real Ingrid asks, brow furrowed.

"Your sister did that," Mapi says," She's done a lot of them." She grabs your sketchbook and flicks though it. You'd shown her all of your pieces a few days ago when she asked to see them. "Ingrid, she's so good."

Ingrid flips through your book. There's pencil drawings in there. There's watercolour and acrylic and oil. There's a pastel study of your cat back home and an inked version of Bagheera. There's a stunning piece in charcoal of you and Ingrid when you were younger.

Her fingers hover over your squishy baby cheeks, like she could reach into the picture and touch them.

The next few pages have pictures of your own arm with tattoo designs wrapping around them.

"Ingrid, she's so talented," Mapi says," And, yeah, maybe she shouldn't skip class or leave her work to the last minute but she's found something she's passionate about and loves. How would you feel if your parents didn't support you in your football and made you go to medical school?"

Ingrid wipes the tears out of her eyes when she flicks to the last picture you've drawn. It was from last week, when she rewarded you for doing all your work before the weekend with ice cream. You had taken a picture with Mapi and Ingrid, tongue poking out and cheeks pressed together.

You've replicated it perfectly on the page and scrawled a little heart at the bottom along with your signature.

"Jona...Jona said they're looking for someone to do a mural on the back wall of the Johan Cruyff," She says eventually, flipping the book closed," We...Er...We..."

"I'll call Jona," Mapi assures her," Go and save your sister from work she's already finished."

Like Mapi said, you've already finished all of your work and you're sitting stubbornly at the kitchen table, rolling a piece of lint between your fingers.

You're taken completely off guard when Ingrid pulls you in for a hug. Usually, it takes an hour or two for her to calm down after yelling at you.

"I love you," She says as she pulls away, cradling your face as tears run down her face," I love you so much."

"Ingrid? What's going on?"

"I love you," She says," And I want what's best for you. If you promise me that you'll try just a bit harder in school then I swear, I'll make everything better."

"Seriously, you're freaking me out here. What's going on?"

Map appears over Ingrid's shoulder with a dopey smile. "You should thank your sister. She's just sorted you out with a job."

"A job? Ingrid, no offence, but you don't even like me out of your sight. I can barely get by in Spanish. You want me to get a job too?"

"The Estadi Johan Cruyff needs a mural done-"

"Several murals," Mapi cuts in.

"-And you're doing them."

You blink in shock before a grin splits your face wide open. "Seriously? Are you joking?"

"Keep trying hard," Ingrid says," And I'm sure me and Mapi can sort you out with so much more."

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