#;; it just all...feels like a broken promise to her

[midnightsslut]

religion is one of the most prominent recurring themes on the album, and it has been present in some capacity for quite a few records now. taylor previously compared love to religion: her saving grace, her belief system, and a fated divine intervention (false god, cornelia street, and cruel summer are the best examples of this). ‘sacred new beginnings that became my religion’ and ‘we’d still worship this love even if it’s a false god’ are two of the defining statements about her philosophy on the lover album.

taylor doesn’t want to leave all of that behind on ttpd, at least not at the beginning. the first supernatural force she mentions is the spaceship on down bad, which she compares to a skylight of freedom in the epilogue. *something* has finally come to save her from her life of suffering. she doesn’t care if it’s a force of good at first; if anything, she’s just fine being taken away by aliens. she views this man as her destiny. it isn’t until guilty as sin? that taylor starts to ponder the moral implications of what she’s doing. is she guilty as sin for wanting to leave her previous religion and relationship behind? she comes to the conclusion that, even if she rolls the stone away and gets resurrected/redeemed, she cannot avoid the fallout. she is okay with the thought of having to wait, as long as both lovers vow to be together forever, just as she once did with someone else in false god. ‘I choose you and me religiously’ finishes the bridge of the song in a direct callback to cornelia street.

the next mention of religion has murkier imagery. she claims that she does not need the Lord’s help to save this man. she sees the halo that he has, and she can fix him herself. now that she feels free of her prior cage, she isn’t looking for divine intervention anymore. she wants control. she is their route to salvation.

when the relationship falls apart, she retreats back into the position of a believer rather than a divine figure. she compares him to a Holy Ghost who promised to save her and take her to heaven. instead, she is in hell in every sense of the word: she’s down bad and feels guilty for digging up the grave. he was a jehovah’s witness who promised that she could break free of the cage imposed by love without changing her religion altogether; she would’ve just had to switch denominations. she could still have a marriage and kids! she could still have a blue tortured poet! the man was different, but not the dreams they had together. the story of the first part of the album ends here. her faith has been broken, and she has only found any semblance of sanity by refusing to mention these belief systems altogether.

side b/the anthology blends the christian imagery of side a with goddesses, sorcerers, and prophecies. she bargains with these powers to let her have the future she wants (the prophecy). she doesn’t sound like someone believing in salvation. if anything, she feels cursed. she decides that the concept of divinely ordained timing will never work in certain relationships (‘the goddess of timing once found us beguiling / she said she was trying / peter, was she lying?’). this disdain extends onto her perception of other people’s faith (‘bet they never spared a prayer for my soul’). she does position herself as a prophet in cassandra, but even then, she admits that the role has hurt her. perhaps the pain in thank you aimee was meant to be, or perhaps she was just strong enough to build a legacy in spite of it, boulder by boulder. is she a martyr? does she want to be? or did she save herself?

the only real love song on this half of the album makes no mention of fate or any divine forces. it wasn’t meant to be. it’s not a supernatural invisible string or lightning in a bottle. she is just in love.

the album ends with the manuscript, which revisits an old story of a defining, formative heartbreak. as she sings ‘at last, she knew what the agony had been for’ while describing the legacy of her writing, she seems to revert to thinking about the purpose of trauma. the only exception is that, in this case, she is the one who found meaning in her pain by turning it into a manuscript. writing is her belief system now, and she proselytizes by telling her stories and thus giving up the manuscript.

ultimately, her belief in destiny has chewed her up and spat her out. she so desperately clung to her existing belief systems that she was fooled by a conman, which left her feeling cursed. religion is supposed to be with someone even in their darkest moments, but the album explains that taylor often felt abandoned. the only constant in her life was, well, herself. she’ll be okay, but her pen will be her saving grace.

#idk why I wrote this essay but it needed to be said #this could be taken further by actually unpacking each mention of religion on midnights and lover but i ain’t doing all that #the manuscript #cassandra #Cornelia street #false god #cruel summer #lover #the prophecy #the smallest man who ever lived #but daddy I love him #I can fix him #guilty as sin #ttpd #thank you Aimee #peter

[bonefall]

I know you don’t rewrite arcs until they’re done, but I love hearing about your early ideas while I brood over how badly this arc has let me down. Do you have any like super vague ideas about Splashtail’s motivations yet? He’s like a way worse Hawkfrost in my mind, because they’re both very young cats who Are Just Evil. But Hawkfrost had a genuinely interesting backstory that the Erin’s simply fumbled, meanwhile Splashtail is a cartoonishly evil atheist. I feel nothing towards him, he’s not intimidating or interesting or even funny. Save me Bonefall save me (if I got something wrong please ignore it, these books are so disappointing my brain is making me forget them to protect itself.)

If it helps at all, I'm staying sane with the observation that Hawkfrost is a high charisma character making critical failure rolls, while Splashtail is a cringefail loser with no stats rolling nat20s. He becomes 50% more sufferable when you imagine a long, pungent pause after anything he says, broken only by the sound of an offscreen player tossing some dice. When the silence is broken, it's whatever NPC has been charmed speaking in the beleaguered voice of the dungeon master.

SO my early thoughts are shaping up to be that I'd like to do a slightly more serious version of that.

BB!Splashtail is the Clan equivalent of a 19-year-old, desperate for more power and respect in his society. In terms of his stats, he's promising but not outstanding. A decent fighter, a competent leader. Even in terms of lineage; his father is Sneezecloud, a respected trader and negotiator, but his mother is Havenpelt. An ex-rogue who has sworn to live by the ways of RiverClan.

Curlfeather is the one with the plans. She's the one with vision. Daughter of Reedwhisker, grandchild of Mistystar, with grand leaders like Bluestar, Oakheart, and Crookedstar in her past, greatness runs in her blood. Scandal, too-- but for some reason it's acceptable that her great-grandparents were codebreaking traitors.

Splashtail hates Curlfeather, but he can't get anywhere unless he tries to be her. He steals HER plans. He acts like SHE does. Manages to snatch power from her paws, and then has no idea what to do with it.

I'm thinking that I want his reign to be going smoothly at first, actually, going from a bit of a bossy jerk, to trying to enact Curlfeather's ambitions by launching fights and doing it badly, to active tyranny as he tries to keep control over RiverClan. Depending on how Star goes, I might have Berryheart make some kind of move to seize power over him.

At the core of how I see him though, is that Splashtail has no plan. His ideology leans Thistle Law... in a sort of dumbass 4Channer kind of way. He talks a big game about the glory of battle, but folds fast when his enemy can punch back. The only person he could successfully manipulate was a traumatized child. He will bring back pureblooded glory to the Clan, except his personal family of course

As for the Evil Atheism stuff... lol. Lmao, even. Not needed. If I need to make him a more powerful and serious danger, it's not going to come from the fact he's godless. If being an atheist gave you super murder powers, Bill Nye would have used them to obliterate half of the US government by now.

Depending on how the last book of ASC goes,

The Harelight kill is probably going to get changed to Hallowflight. Harelight watches his dad die, and Splashstar is drenched in the blood of one of RiverClan's most famous heroes. No turning back after that.

On that note I'd also make the fight longer and bloodier. A butchery of an execution showcasing Splashtail fighting like a beast and Hallowflight like a trained warrior.

I REAALLY want to make Splashtail's death a drowning. Curlfeather, demon she is now, finishes him off by dragging him under. To protect her daughter. They will have to do something VERY satisfying for me to not do this.

#BB!ASC #Better bones au

[sombrashe]

i love ur blog!! it would be super cool if u did a norm x reader but the reader is like a wastelander/from the wastelands or something like that!!

content fluff, first kiss :3, both reader and norm are weird little things he's just more sexually inclined, gn!reader, chubby!reader

note(s) thank you so much for the kind words ;-; i hope you enjoy this !!

It's been three weeks since you joined the rag-tag group. Two vault dwellers, a ghoul, an ex-BOS member, and a wasterlander. Sounds like the beginning to one of The Ghoul's bad jokes. He calls them dad jokes but since over half of you didn't have a dad the idea was lost to the sand. Plopping down you go through your nearly empty pack.

"I think me and The Ghoul should go on a supply run."

Your voice rose to speak over the horrid wind pelting small clouds of sand into the side of the burnt-out husk of a house. Everyone looks you over and immediately starts speaking over each other to argue about the dangers of leaving into the storm. Raising a hand you let out a short shout to gain attention which works wonders.

"I've lived in this desert all my life I know how to keep sand away from my skin, I'll be fine. The Ghoul is pretty much unkillable. We need food. My pack is empty."

You try to sound reasonable. It's been days of your group being holed up in this shithole and honestly, you wanted out of there even for a little. As close as you have grown to each member of the group you barely have any time to yourself anymore.

"What if you get lost?"

"It's a small neighborhood, I'll be fine. I promise."

"You can't promise that and you know it."

Norm's voice chastises you despite his face hiding his true concern. You knew he just wanted what was best for you. Him being the one person you opened up to the most. His easygoing attitude and similar resting face made it nice to tell him about any worries. And you had a lot especially living on the surface. Something he was slowly becoming accustomed to.

"Why not take one of us instead?"

Lucy speaks up. Her eyes search your face, hoping you'll change your mind.

"The only one I would be willing to take is Max, but he's out of commission."

You point to his leg which sits propped on a toppled bookshelf. Trying to save Lucy from a radscorpion cost him a rolled ankle.

"The Ghoul is no-nonsense, he'll get us in and out, and if he doesn't... I'm sure youse guys can win a 4 v 1."

You give a wide smile showing them that you mean what you say. You just wanted to get this over with. You've been thinking about this for hours now. Watching as your already small assortment of supplies dwindled.

"Please, just let us go."

"Don't I get a say in this sweetheart?"

"No. You want 'ta find their dad as much as the rest of us. Not me, I'm here for all the warm company."

You roll your eyes and sling your pack over your shoulder. Norm stands just as quick nearly shoving you over in the process. You steady yourself against his bicep. Only for a second before you yank your hand back as a warm heat burns your cheeks. You walk around the room collecting anything you might need. An extra pair of pants wrap around your face. Nice and snug according to Lucy. Making eye contact with Norm you feel the need to look away. His eyes are so expressive and they're begging you to stay. You go to give him an awkward hug hoping to make the feeling in your stomach go away. He doesn't bite and gently untangles the fabric from around your jaw. Your goggles skew your peripheral but you know everyone is staring. You can't hear the mumbling as he leans forward. You can't even hear the wind whipping broken glass into the side of your hideout. You struggle to hear anything over the roaring of blood rushing to flood your head. Especially when his lips connect with yours. You lived a hard life and went through unimaginable pain, but this kiss, even for a moment, made you forget everything and everyone. His lips were so soft a stark contrast to the sharp broken skin of your own. Your hands lay limp at your side as you attempt to kiss back. This was all quite foreign to you but you wanted to make it work. Needed to make it work. Deep down.

"Come back to us. To me, please." He whispers directly against your lips.

Reaching up he ignores Lucy's inquisitive eyes as he gathers the untangled mess of denim. Slowly he affixes it back together and into a tight shield against the elements. He gives your cheek one quick squeeze through the thick layer. You thank the cover because you couldn't stand letting everyone see your grin even if Norm picked up on your eyes crinkling. Turning around you opt to look at the floor as you walk over to the strong oak door. Luckily the wood stayed mostly strong for these past 200-odd years with only a corner piece missing. Flinging the door open you call back to The Ghoul to hurry up as you disappear into the screaming darkness.

#fallout #fallout prime #fallout tv series #norm maclean #norm maclean x reader #sombrashe writes

[clockwork-ashes]

Mirrors

The Lady of Autumn had a name, although she was hardly ever called by it. Like a fading tapestry, once bright colours muted over the years, a whisper of what had been.

Summary: The Lady of Autumn has a difficult conversation with her eldest son (one-shot).

Find more Autumn Court one-shots here :)

The Lady of Autumn had a name, although she was hardly ever called by it. Like a fading tapestry, once bright colours muted over the years, a whisper of what had been. 

Callista.

Chosen by her father, a name both sharp and beautiful, perhaps a wish that she would grow up and be the same. The male who had raised her was centuries dead, along with the rest of her family, and Callista was achingly alone. 

There was a certain reverence to each of her titles, she could admit, thick as blood as they fell from the lips of those around her. 

Lady. 

Wife. 

Mother. 

The last and worst of them all, like a knife taken to her chest each time it was uttered, a reminder of everything she had never wanted. 

“Mother.” The crack of a whip, harsh and unexpected, even after the countless years that had passed. Time moved slow as honey, and the word was no less difficult to bear. 

With a wince, Callista looked up at her eldest son, feeling small in front of his towering frame. The corridor they were in was empty, torches flickering and casting long shadows on the stone walls. There were no windows, making it seem as though it was late at night when Callista knew the sun had just gone up, had watched as she did every morning as it inched over the horizon. . 

Lovely and sharp like shards of broken glass, Eris scowled. 

Callista knew he looked like her, it had always been the case. Nobles and servants alike attested to their similarities, like mirrors, they whispered, meant as a compliment she was sure. 

Firstborn, heir to the throne, Eris had never smiled as a child. Hair scarlet as fresh blood, eyes amber gemstones, pale as bone and cruel in his beauty, he still reminded her of Beron. 

Eris’ full lips were pulled down slightly at the corners in a frown, and Callista hummed in response.

“Have you been listening?” Eris questioned, and she could hear the disbelief whirling in the words. 

“Of course,” she waved a hand dismissively as she told the lie. Her mind had been elsewhere and she did not feel like explaining herself to her son. 

Eris’ lips curled up slowly, the smile empty as his eyes flared with embers in annoyance. “Then I won’t repeat myself.” He shrugged, the movement elegant even without an audience there to witness it. “Lucien’s bags are packed and we’ll be in the eastern territories, should anyone ask.” 

As though she were a puppet with her strings pulled taught, Callista straightened her spine, the sound of blood rushing to her head loud as a river in her ears. “Why?” She managed to ground out, worry deep in her gut. 

Eris raised an auburn brow at her, false confusion on his face. “It’s as I’ve said.” 

Quick as a snake, her fingers fangs, Callista grabbed onto the High Lord’s heir. Flames flashed in her russet eyes as she spoke. “Don’t play games, Eris.” She was not in the mood, and she hoped her tone suggested as much. 

“Never,” he clipped, attempting to pull away. Callista held firmly to the sleeve of his shirt, and Eris let her. “Fair to say you hadn’t been listening?” 

“Speak, Eris,” the demand was rough, and she felt as Eris bristled, although nothing of the sort showed on his face. 

Eris clicked his tongue, mocking despite how serious Callista was. “One of these days, you’ll find that I should be unwilling to help you.” It could have been a threat or a promise, but Callista was not certain.

“Not this day,” she snapped, feeling her cheeks heat with anger. The torches in the empty hallway flared around them. “Do I have to beg you?”

Eris pulled his arm back with a scowl, looking very much like his father. He straightened his shirt with a stiff gesture. “Have I ever asked you for such a thing?” 

“Hardly seems like you’re above it.” 

For decades, there had been a strain between them. Beron’s favourite son, the child she had never wanted but loved despite it. Complicated and entirely out of her control, she could still remember crying when Eris had been born. It had only gotten worse as the decades had passed, as Lucien had grown. 

Perhaps it was hurt that flashed starbright on Eris’s lovely features, but as soon as it had appeared it was gone. Expressionless and cold as ice, Eris spoke. “If you’d been paying attention, mother, you would have heard that father doesn’t want Lucien in the Forest House.” He scowled as he continued,  “at least for a little while.” 

“Why?” She asked again, praying Eris would give her an honest answer.  

“To keep him away from you, he told me,” Eris’s gaze was searching. “You spoil him.” 

“He’s a sweet boy, everyone spoils him,” Callista said, her mouth tight. That much was true, she had seen it with her own eyes, how charmed the entirety of Autumn was with her youngest son. 

“Father gave Lucien one of his daggers, you know the one with the fox hilt?” she nodded, unsure what Eris was about to say. “His to keep, first weapon handed from father to son.” Tradition, Callista knew, was valued in Autumn, where a change in power had not been had for centuries. “Would have been heartwarming,” Eris said, a restrained anger in his tone, “If not for the fact that Lucien’s eyes shone gold as daylight to ruin the moment.” 

As though she had been struck, Callista reared back. Beron had known since Lucien had been born, had seen fit to punish them all for her infidelity, but Lucien had still been claimed as his seventh son. Protection and a curse all at once. The shame would have been too great, Beron had said, to have a disloyal wife and a child that was not his own. 

“Eris–” 

He raised his hand to silence her. “Is joy to blame? Sunbright eyes only when Lucien is happy?” 

“Yes,” Callista breathed, her nerves getting the best of her, panic a near unbearable weight on her slim shoulders. She smelled copper, the sharp tang of blood, and thought it was her own. It took her a moment to realise that Eris had bitten through his cheek, an anxious habit he had inherited from her. 

Mirrors. 

“I’m taking him to my home in the east,” Eris said softly, attempting to comfort her. “Handle your husband and send word when we can return.” 

Callista felt tears embarrassingly begin to form at the corners of her eyes. “Can I say goodbye?” Her voice was small and she felt pathetic, like a horrible mother, her curse to bear. 

Eris looked ready to deny her wish, but perhaps he sensed her despair, her worry in the face of the unknown. With a sigh, a hand running through his hair, Eris offered her his arm. “I think Lucien would be devastated if you didn’t.” 

Relief rained over Callista as she gently held onto her eldest son. “Thank you, Eris,” she said ever so quietly. 

Eris did not respond, and Callista wondered if he even heard her.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #autumn court #the lady of autumn #eris vanserra #lucien vanserra #he's not in this but it's about him #vanserra family #i can't stop thinking about loa and eris #thank you to everyone who reads <3 #ashes writes sometimes

[valkyrieeeee]

Broken Promises

ᑉ³pairing; Fiancé! Bangchan x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Angst

ᑉ³warnings; Arguments, Alcohol, cursing

ᑉ³Authors Note; Surprise.. another angst (said no one ever)!

Sitting alone at the small table in the quaint bakery, surrounded by an array of beautifully decorated cakes, you can't shake the growing sense of unease gnawing at your stomach. Chan was supposed to meet you here for the cake tasting for your wedding, but as the minutes tick by, there's still no sign of him.

Glancing down at your phone for what feels like the hundredth time, you force a smile as you reply to the concerned messages from the bakery staff, assuring them that Chan will be arriving shortly. But with each passing moment, your assurances feel emptier and emptier.

The bakery owner, a middle-aged woman with warm, motherly eyes and flour-dusted apron, approaches you with gentle steps, her expression a mixture of concern and empathy. As she reaches your table, she offers a sympathetic smile, lines of experience etched into the corners of her eyes, revealing a lifetime of witnessing both joy and sorrow.

"Is everything okay, dear?" she asks in a soft, soothing voice, her tone carrying the weight of genuine care. "Your fiancé seems to be running a bit late."

You nod, plastering on a smile that feels more like a grimace. "Oh, he's just caught up with something. He'll be here soon, I'm sure of it."

But even as the words leave your lips, doubt gnaws at the edges of your mind. Where is Chan? Why hasn't he shown up for something as important as choosing your wedding cake?

As the minutes turn into hours, the atmosphere in the bakery grows increasingly awkward. The staff exchange concerned glances, and you can feel the weight of their pitying stares bearing down on you.

Finally, unable to bear the charade any longer, you excuse yourself from the table and step outside for some fresh air. Leaning against the cool brick wall of the bakery, you let out a frustrated sigh, feeling the sting of tears threatening to spill over.

You had envisioned this day as a happy occasion, a chance to celebrate your love and plan for your future together. But now, it feels like just another reminder of Chan's inability to prioritize your relationship.

Feeling a mix of frustration and disappointment, you pull out your phone and start typing a message to Chan.

Still, there's no response from Chan. You try calling him, but it goes straight to voicemail. Panic starts to set in as you realize that he's not picking up.

Tears blur your vision as you hit send, the weight of Chan's absence bearing down on you like a ton of bricks. You're left feeling hurt and confused, wondering how and why he could have missed something so important to you both.

As you walk briskly away from the bakery, you can't shake the feeling of betrayal that weighs heavy on your heart.

Each step feels like a painful reminder of Chan's absence. Tears threaten to spill over, but you blink them back, refusing to let yourself break down in public.

As you reach your home, you unlock the door with trembling hands and step inside, the familiar surroundings offering a small sense of peace amidst all of your emotions.

Alone in the quiet of your apartment, you finally allow yourself to release the floodgates of pent-up frustration and sorrow. Tears stream down your cheeks as you collapse onto the couch, the weight of the day's events crashing down on you all at once.

You pull out your phone, hoping against hope for a message or a call from Chan, but the screen remains stubbornly blank. With a heavy sigh, you set the device aside, resigning yourself to the painful reality of his absence.

As you sit on the couch, lost in a whirlwind of emotions, the sound of the door unlocking startles you. Your heart leaps with a flicker of hope, but as Chan staggers through the doorway, his movements unsteady and his breath heavy with the scent of alcohol, your hope quickly dissipates into a sinking feeling of disappointment.

"What the hell?" you ask, your voice a mixture of concern and frustration.

Chan's eyes struggle to focus as he blinks blearily at you. He gasps "Babbbyyyyyy" he slurs, a lopsided grin spreading across his face. "Hi beautifuuull."

Anger bubbles up in your chest, hot and fierce, as you struggle to contain the storm raging inside you. "Don't you 'baby' me," you snap, your voice sharp . "Where have you been, Chan? You were supposed to be with me."

But Chan's smile only widens, oblivious to the turmoil in your heart. "I was out celebrating, love," he says, his words slurred and carefree, as if the weight of his absence bears no significance. "With the boys, you know? It was a great night!"

The audacity of his nonchalant demeanor ignites a fire within you, the flames of your anger burning brighter with each passing moment. "Celebrating? While I sat here waiting for you?" you seethe, your voice trembling with rage. "You were supposed to be at the cake tasting with me. Do you have any idea how important that was? Do you even care about me at all?"

Chan's expression falters, a flicker of confusion dancing in his glazed eyes as he struggles to comprehend the depth of your hurt. "Of course I care, babe," he says, his voice tinged with a hint of defensiveness. "I just... lost track of time, that's all."

Your voice cuts through the air like a knife, sharp and unforgiving, as you confront Chan's feeble attempt to brush off his actions. "No, Chan, you forgot," you repeat, your tone laced with the bitter sting of disappointment. "You forgot about me, about us, about everything we've been planning together."

Chan's gaze flickers with a mix of guilt and frustration, his defenses crumbling under the weight of your accusation. "I didn't mean to," he protests weakly, his voice barely above a whisper.

You cut him off with a wave of your hand, unable to bear his excuses any longer. "Save it, Chan. We have an important meeting tomorrow morning with the photographer and videographer. We need to finalize the details for the wedding, and I need you to be sober and present for that."

Chan nods, his expression contrite as he sinks onto the couch beside you. "I'll be there, I promise. I'll make it up to you."

You want to believe him, to trust that he'll follow through on his promise, but doubts linger in the back of your mind.

As Chan sinks onto the couch beside you, his expression contrite, you can feel the tension between you thickening. His drunken attempts at affection, his hand reaching out to touch your cheek, elicit a mixture of conflicting emotions within you.

"Chan, I'm not in the mood for this," you murmur, your voice tinged with frustration.

But Chan persists, his touch lingering as he leans in closer, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours. "I love you, Y/N," he whispers, his breath warm against your skin. "I'm sorry for messing up, but let me make it up to you."

You want to believe him, to let yourself be swept away by his words and his touch, but the memory of his absence and his neglect hangs heavy in the air between you. You can't bring yourself to let him off the hook so easily, not when this isn't the first time he's let you down.

With a heavy heart, you push him away gently, your resolve firm despite the ache in your chest. "Not tonight, Chan," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "I need some space."

Chan's expression falls, disappointment flashing in his eyes before he nods, accepting your decision. "Okay," he murmurs, his voice tinged with regret.

You watch as he retreats to the bedroom, disappointed. Unable to face the thought of sharing a bed with him tonight, you grab a pillow and a blanket, retreating to the couch where you curl up and try to push aside the hurt and disappointment that threatens to consume you.

As you close your eyes and try to drift off to sleep, the ache in your heart remains, a painful reminder of the rift that has grown between you and Chan. You know that tomorrow will bring difficult conversations and tough decisions, but for now, all you can do is try to find solace in the solitude of the couch and hope for a better tomorrow.

The next morning, you awaken with a heavy heart, the events of the previous night weighing heavily on your mind. Despite the restless night, you rise early, determined to face the day head-on.

As you make your way to the kitchen to prepare some breakfast, you can't shake the feeling of unease gnawing at the pit of your stomach. Glancing around the empty room, you realize that Chan is nowhere to be found.

A sense of apprehension washes over you as you check your phone, half-hoping to find a message from Chan explaining his absence. But the screen remains stubbornly blank, devoid of any communication from him.

With a sinking feeling in your chest, you push aside your worries and focus on the task at hand. You have an important meeting with the vendor this morning, and you can't afford to be late.

Quickly finishing your breakfast, you gather your things and head out the door, praying that Chan is already on his way. Maybe he's already on the way, you tell yourself, trying to quell the rising tide of anxiety threatening to overwhelm you.

As you arrive at the meeting venue, you scan the area, searching for any sign of Chan. But he's nowhere to be seen, and your heart sinks as the realization dawns on you.

He's done it again.

As you step through the front door, the tension in the air is palpable, thick with unspoken frustrations and simmering resentment. You walk into your bedroom ready to sleep the pain fromt he day away. But your gaze falls upon Chan, seated at his desk, his headphones on as he works on his music, seemingly oblivious to your presence.

Without a word, you storm over to him, your anger bubbling over. "Chan, we need to talk," you say, your voice tight with emotion.

Chan looks up, startled by the intensity of your tone. "What's wrong?" he asks, removing his headphones and turning to face you.

"What's wrong? What's wrong is that you keep letting me down, over and over again," you reply, your voice rising with each word. "What's wrong is that you can't seem to prioritize anything other than your damn music! You forgot about the meeting this morning. Again. Do you even care about our wedding?"

Chan's brow furrows in frustration. "Of course I care, but I had a deadline to meet. I couldn't just drop everything."

"That's not good enough, Chan," you shoot back, your hands trembling with anger. "You promised you would be there. You promised you would start taking our wedding seriously."

"I do take it seriously," Chan insists, his own frustration beginning to show. "But I have other responsibilities too. I can't just neglect my work."

"You're neglecting our relationship, Chan," you retort, the words bitter on your tongue. "You keep putting everything else before us, and I'm sick of it."

Chan stands up, his jaw clenched with pent-up frustration. "I'm doing the best I can, okay? I'm trying to juggle everything, but it's not easy."

Well, it's not good enough," you say, your voice trembling with emotion. "I need someone who can be there for me when it matters, someone who won't let me down."

The air crackles with tension as the weight of your words hangs heavy between you. For a moment, neither of you speaks, the silence filled with the echo of unresolved anger and hurt.

Finally, Chan's voice rises in a roar of frustration. "I'm tired of always being the one to blame! Maybe if you weren't so demanding, I wouldn't have to constantly choose between you and my work!"

You reel back, stung by his words, but before you can respond, Chan continues, his anger pouring out in a torrent of emotion. "You have no idea what it takes to make it in this industry. This is my dream, Y/N. I can't just drop it because you want me to."

Your blood boils at his dismissive tone. "Dream? This isn't just about your dream, Chan. This is about us, about our future together. And you keep throwing it away for some stupid song."

His eyes flash with anger. "Don't you dare belittle my passion like that. You think planning a wedding is more important than my music?"

"Yes, I do!" you shout, your voice echoing off the walls. "Because this wedding is supposed to be about us, about our commitment to each other. But all you care about is yourself."

Chan's nostrils flare, his fists clenched at his sides. "I'm selfish? Look in the mirror, Y/N. All you do is demand, demand, demand. You never think about what I need." He says slaming his headset down. "I'm sick of feeling like I'm not good enough for you! Maybe you should find someone else who can live up to your impossible standards!"

The words hit you like a slap in the face, the sting of his accusation cutting deep. "I'm demanding? I'm demanding because I expect you to show up for the most important day of our lives? Because I expect you to be there for me when I need you?" You take a deep breath. "Maybe... maybe you're right," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe we shouldn't be getting married."

Chan's eyes widen in shock, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly as he struggles to process your words. "Y/N, wait—"

But before he can say anything else, you reach for the engagement ring on your finger, the metal cold against your skin. With a swift motion, you rip it off and fling it at him, the ring soaring through the air before landing with a dull thud at his feet.

Chan's face pales, his eyes wide with disbelief as he watches you turn and storm out of the room, your footsteps echoing off the walls like a thunderous drumbeat.

As you step outside into the cool night air, tears stream down your cheeks, mingling with the bitter taste of regret and heartache. With each step you take away from the house, the weight of your decision presses down on you like a heavy burden, but you know deep down that it's the right choice.

With a heavy heart, you make your way to your parents' house, seeking comfort in the familiar embrace of family. And as you collapse into their arms, the tears come in quickly, a torrent of emotion unleashed in the wake of your shattered dreams.

·˚ᑉ³ M.LIST | Ko-Fi | Thank you for your support | Consider leaving a comment, reblog or like. © Valkyrieeeee 2024

#stray kids smau #skz smau #skz texts #stray kids #straykids x you #stray kids ff #straykids angst #changbin #hyunjin #jeongin #minho #skz #stayville #bang chan #lee felix #lee know #seungmin #fiance #sad

[peanutapplesauce]

Ocean view

| Gojo x Y/N Comfort prose?

Author's Note: I wrote this because i felt really overwhelmed with life. hope this piece brings you some warmth :) lmk any thoughts, feedback, etc!!!

Based on Se So Neon's song, Nan Chun.

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The ocean was calling her again, its rhythm whispering sweet nothings in her dreams to get up and leave the windowsill. To be underneath the pitch black sky with the waves embracing her softly, caressing every inch of her flesh and gently dissolving all her fears before breathing solace to mend her soul.

And under the same starless sky, the waves nipped away at every exposed flesh of his — thrashing around for any semblance of his grievances. Satoru, the strongest, would brace his soul and fight the push and pull of the salty sea for glimpses of her. His fingers frantically grasped and grappled at her flesh, desperately holding on until she was ready to float back ashore, away from the ocean that sung her promises of immortality and bliss. Because Satoru knew the ocean was a liar, that the promises were broken and the muffled cries of the mermaids were proof of this. But she was too far gone, too drowned.

And he grabbed her hand, hugged it close to his chest, waiting with bated breath to feel her pulse glow with life once more. Even prayed to his deity for her spirit to fight against those thoughts of hers once more. Counted to ten for any sign, then repeat from zero until something gave.

And something would give, just before the waves could sing its final chorus. He’d witness the flutters of hope return to her eyes, and she’d be met with his unwavering gaze full of light and tender patience. Once more, she would wish there was another way to repay him in full but her grateful soul was the only thing she could offer with open palms.

Then, wordlessly, gently, his hands would guide her away from the windowsill - away from the roaring ocean outside just like he always did when she found herself drowning. A quiet muttering of, “Come here, hug me.”

And once again, they’d live through the night and into the sunrise.

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Oh my dear don’t fall apart // don’t get cold on the windy windowsill

Come here and hug me tight // live through today and let’s go to tomorrow

#gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo angst #hurt/comfort #gojo imagine #gojou satoru x you #gojo headcanons #jjk x y/n #jjk fanfic #jjk fluff #gojo satoru #satorugojo #drabble #prose

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.105 Cracks on a frozen lake

Once again, Sophia was up before me, making breakfast. If that was our new normal, I could get used to it very quickly. It's not that I tired of cooking every meal, but I loved seeing her follow through with all her plans recently. I didn't doubt she would, but sims often made promises to change their lives and failed to follow through. Hell, I couldn't even follow through with waking up early to cook breakfast when she was working. She was such an inspiration, always pushing me to be better without even realizing it.

Before I could sit down to eat my fruit salad and ask how she was, she began rambling like sims did when they got nervous. She jumped from subject to subject, trying not to let any silence seep through. I tried my best to keep up for her sake, knowing she wanted to think about anything other than what went on in her body. She was so animated, like a toddler on a sugar high, and initially I sympathized with her. But after a while, I recognized I needed a distraction too. We were both a little on edge about the doctor's appointment in a few hours. I don't know how we got any sleep last night with that on the brain.

Sophia talked and talked and talked until she couldn't take it anymore.

"I sound crazy," she said. "Do I sound crazy? I'm gonna wash my hair."

She dashed to the bathroom before I could even offer a rebuttal. The bathroom door clicked behind her, and the faucet squeaked as she turned on the water. A pang of sadness tugged at my heart as I thought of what she must feel in there. Should I go with her? Did she need to be alone? Wouldn't it be better if we distracted each other? The sound of the shower water hypnotized me for a while before realizing I too needed to busy myself until to leave, so I tended to the money tree and bathed the dogs.

Silence filled the air like a dense fog on our way back home. The doctor's confirmation left our emotions in ruins. She diagnosed Sophia with low fertility, saying it would be extremely hard to get pregnant but not impossible. We just needed time Sophia didn't have. I tried to take comfort in the slight possibility, but the reality of it tried to crush the remnant of hope I had left. Sophia buried herself under the covers as soon as we arrived at home. Her muffled sobs echoed through the house, and an avalanche of sorrow tried to overtake me. I wanted to console her, to cradle her in my arms and reassure her, but I felt lost and couldn't find the words because I was also broken. She probably needed the space anyway, so I left her alone and tried to sort myself out.

#ISBI challenge #sims 4 story #sims 4 gameplay #adolting #adolting gen 3 #luca winston murillo #sophia aguilar #tw: infertility

[cheynovak]

A new addiction - Encore

Jensen x F/reader Y/N

Warnings: none I guess?

English isn't my first language.

This idea came after hearing Jensen sing 'wondering why.' Just a little something something for those who liked the 'a new addiction' series.

--

Jensen and Y/N have been together for a little while now. Everything went smoothly after they finally chose to be with each other. But how will they cope with their first real fight?

--

As they sat across from each other in their cozy apartment, Y/N's excitement bubbled over as she shared her plans for a new job opportunity that had come her way. Her eyes sparkled with anticipation, her words filled with dreams of new beginnings and adventure.

However, Jensen's reaction was not what she expected. He listened quietly at first, his brow furrowed in thought. As Y/N finished speaking, there was a noticeable tension in the air, the weight of his silence hanging heavily between them.

Finally, Jensen spoke, his voice laced with uncertainty. He expressed his concerns about the timing of Y/N's decision, pointing out the challenges it could pose for their relationship and his own career commitments.

What had begun as a conversation filled with hope and excitement quickly turned into a clash of priorities and fears.

Y/N felt a wave of frustration wash over her. She had hoped for Jensen's support and encouragement, but instead, she found herself facing resistance and doubt. Hurt by his lack of enthusiasm, she lashed out with words fueled by emotion rather than reason.

Their voices rose in a crescendo of anger and frustration, each word cutting deeper than the last. In the heat of the moment, they said things they didn't mean, wounds inflicted by the sharp edges of their own insecurities.

By the time their argument had reached its peak, the damage was done. Jensen's heart ached with regret as he watched Y/N retreat into herself, her eyes clouded with tears of frustration and disappointment.

But deep down, he knew he couldn't leave over seas while having this fight. And so, with a heavy heart and a determination to make things right, he suggested they take a trip together, hoping that a change of scenery would provide the space and perspective they needed to mend what had been broken.

And so, they found themselves in Rome, a city steeped in history and romance.

The Roman air felt charged with tension. Jensen had a convention to attend, and Y/N had insisted on accompanying him, hoping the change of scenery would help them reconnect.

Their first fight had left a bitter taste in their mouths, each word spoken in anger leaving scars on their hearts.

As the convention kicked off, Jensen took the stage, the spotlight bathing him in a warm glow. His eyes searched the crowd until they found Y/N, sitting in the back, her gaze a mixture of uncertainty and longing. With a deep breath, he began to sing, his voice carrying the weight of his emotions.

The melody was familiar to Y/N, a song she had heard countless times before, but not by him. Jensen poured his heart into each note, like always, but she realized that this time was different.

This time, the song was for her.

Tears welled up in her eyes as the lyrics washed over her, each word a promise of love and forgiveness. In that moment, all the hurt and anger melted away, leaving only the raw, unfiltered truth of their connection.

By the time Jensen finished his song, Y/N was already making her way to the backstage, her heart pounding in her chest.

After Jensen's heartfelt performance, he stepped down from the stage, his heart heavy with emotion. Y/N approached him, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

Without a word, she threw her arms around him, holding him close as if afraid he would disappear.

Feeling the warmth of his embrace and hearing the sincerity in his voice, Y/N's heart softened.

"I'm so sorry sweetheart, please let's never fight again."

"Never." she smiled softly.

She lifted her head to meet his gaze, and without hesitation, she pressed her lips to his, a silent reassurance of forgiveness and love.

In that kiss, they found a renewed sense of connection. As they pulled away, Jensen's eyes shone with gratitude, his hand reaching out to gently wipe away Y/N's tears.

"I love you, Jay."

"Love you too, sweetheart."

--

This is part of the ' a new addiction' series

Please check out my masterlist. And feel free to like comment or share.

Taglist:

@mayafatimakhan @anundyingfidelity 

@yvonneeeee @suckitands33

@mostlymarvelgirl

#fanfic #fluff #jensen ackles #x reader #the boys #soldier boy #dean winchester #the boys amazon #spn #light angst #lovers #jensen ackles singing #jensen fucking ackles

[sunmoontruth-stiles]

I need a completely rewritten teen wolf series with Derek Hale as the main character. I think it would heal me.

#we follow Derek from New York. Laura left for beacon hills. it’s been six years since he was back but he hasn’t heard from her #and hes going stir crazy waiting. he packs up and travels back. it’s almost too much immediately. he still can’t get a hold of Laura #he can’t resist going home. it’s like a natural pull that guides him back. all at once he’s 16 again. staring at the wreckage of his life #deputy stilinski is sherrif now. it’s reassuring in the slightest that the police force seems to have moved on from how corrupt it was #he catches her scent and it’s putrid. bile catches in his throat. he seeks it out. still in denial to what he knows it means. #when he finds Laura it’s like the world ends all over again. he can’t stand to see her like this. he gives her a proper burial. #the best he can do at least #he visits Peter. he’s not the man Derek remembers- so full of fire and cunning. their relationship may have been strained at times. #often Derek felt more like Eve being swayed by the snake than a normal friendship #but this isn’t the sharp tongued uncle who guided him. this is a broken shell. all that remained of his family. he was so lost. #22 but he barely knew how to function without his family- his pack paving the way #Laura handled everything. she got the apartment. she made sure they had food. Derek looks back and feels so useless #he was so lost in his grief. Laura must of felt the same way but she never let them drown in it #she made sure he got his GED. even got him to enroll in community college classes. #he took them online. he never was able to warm up to people the same way. he used to be so full of life. now he just wanted to be left alone #he studied English. never finished his degree. doesn’t look like he ever will now. he can’t go back to Laura and his shared home. #can’t bare to see another shell of a home #he vents to the vacant audience of Peter and his cold fixed eyes #Derek leaves. he wants to promise he’ll return soon #but promises feel costly these days #he decides to go back to the reserve. maybe he can find some clue as to what happened to Laura #someone lured her here. someone who knew them and their history here #his mind went to the worst. Kate. why would she go through the trouble six years later. why wait so long. #Derek couldn’t stomach the thought of facing her. he focused on the woods. the scents were all over the place. #clearly multiple people had been through here recently. two scents were much stronger. Derek follows them #but when he hears the crunch of leaves he realizes why the scents are so strong. they’re still here #he ducks behind some trees. listening in on their conversation. but an echo of their scent catches his attention #he spots an inhaler on the ground. he puts two and two together and swipes it from the leaves. #he comes out once they’re closer. tossing over the inhaler- he figures they’ll leave. dumb kids messing around in the woods #he reminds them this is private property. though that may not be true anymore. he recognizes the scent of a new beta. interesting.

[dread-knight]

Why do you have to write a story for other people to see it I feel like my brain is being stretched in twenty different directions with all the shit I want to make but low energy & not enough time & my own sense of shame makes it so that I’m not doing anything. Gahhh

#Remembered Petrichor and that little story I wanted to do with her…. Baby I have ignored you so hard I’m sorry I promise I still love you- #-ya dumb little freak #There’s also the Carsoro stuff and then the AU with that Sage I posted and I also wanna share dracula bs and like dread knight stuff and aa #Ahhh!! Do you get it!! Why do I have to work a job why can’t I draw little guys. I say knowing in my free time I just decompose watching- #Youtube videos about shit I don’t really care about and playing Isaac for the millionth time in a row #Idk if all rogue likes would be like that for me but Isaac is like. Bad. Edmund I think said he had adhd. That makes sense bc that game is- #-like. The perfect time waster for my brain with its broken ass reward system #My doctor was suprised I wasn’t being treated for my adhd maybe I should bite the bullet and try to see if being on smth for it would make- #-me feel less. Ehhhh #Or at least off antidepressants. Like Christ I feel like water with no ice a lot of the time that can’t be normal #Chatter #I’d say sorry for goign off on a rant but this is my blog I do what I want #I think a big problem is I’m lonely and want irl friends but like. How the fuck do you do that. I was not socialized enough as a puppy #Also I want to. Be open about being Toby but like Christ I’d be jumping in headfirst without even knowing where to begin #I haven’t researched like. Dick or shit about the medical side of it and even just socially transitioning like how the fuck would I explain #Idk. I don’t want to be like. Hated by my own family. I don’t think that would be the case but god. God. I have a fucking anxiety disorder

[cathymee]

THIS SHOW GOT ME FUCKED UP BRO 😭

#AUGHHHHH CRYINGGGGG REAL TEARS RN I'M SOBBINGGDHSH #BEATRICE ADOPTING LOUIE!!!!! THE SIBLINGS AND THE CHILDREN TOGETHER VISITING DIANA TOGETHER!!!!!! #BUT FUCKINGH ESPECIALLY KRISTOFF. GOD KRISTOFF. YOU FUCKING TRAGIC MAN YOU #HIM FINALLY LETTING DIANA GO!!!! LITERALLY 'GUMISING KA NA PARA MAPALAYA NA KITA'!!!!!! AAAAAAH?!?!?!?!?!?! INSANE BANGER LINE #HIM WITH ARCHIE!!! THE GUILT HANGING OVER HIM OVER HOW HE TREATED THE BOY!!! THE BOY BEING SO OBLIVIOUS ABOUT KRISTOFF'S GUILT AND #REASSURING HIM AGAIN AND AGAIN ABOUT HOW HE LOVES HIM AND WILL TAKE CARE OF HIM!?!?!??!?!?!?!??!??!?!???!?! #AND WHEN ARCHIE WALKED UP TO NAPOY. AND KRISTOFF JUST LOOKS SO CRUSHED KNOWING THAT NAPOY FINALLY KNOWS. AND HE THOUGHT NAPOY WOULD FINALLY #TAKE ARCHIE AWAY. BUT HE D I D N ' T !!!!!!!!!!!!!! #BECAUSE NAPOY'S ALL ABOUT SECOND CHANCES AND FIXING SHIT NOW. BECAUSE SECOND CHANCES ARE WHAT HIS SIBLINGS NEED!!!!!!!! #SO HE GAVE ARCHIE BACK. AND WHEN KRISTOFF FINALLY RUFFLED ARCHIE'S HAIR IT'S A GESTURE OF GRATITUDE AND A PROMISE TO THE BOTH OF THEM TO DO #BETTER!!! AND WHEN NAPOY RUFFLED KRISTOFF'S HAIR TOO I- WHEN I TELL YOU I BROKE. #they're healing so much and they are healing so good. all bea wanted was to feel a sense of being protected and trusted!! not seen as the #black sheep or a failure!! and now she's here trying her best to only do good - because she's always been good!!! she loves sarah!! #she loves her siblings!!! she can love and care for people!!! she can do good things!!! but she's scared and broken by her father's #indifference and cruelty and by the bad things that she has done before - intentionally or not #and kristoff...god. when napoy ruffled his hair all i saw was a scared sad little boy :(( to be the oldest before napoy came along all the #pressure was on him but was soo belittled and ridiculed for not being the tough cunning man his dad wanted him to be..goddddd #this show destroyed me <33333 goodbye #but one more night let's fucking gooo. what's up with tasha now and who fuckin pulled the plug on diana like 😀✋ hold on #royal blood #rambles

[shotmrmiller]

johnny dates your friend and then asks her if she's got any friends (you) for his friend (simon). but simon freaks you out. he can't hold a conversation— or won't, you're not sure; you're lucky if you get monosyllabic grunts out of him as if he were a neanderthal. the only times you've seriously heard him talk is to bark out words at either johnny or the bartender.

he walks around with a poorly concealed weapon on his hip, almost like he is expecting trouble. he wears all black, which is completely fine, but then a skull balaclava that he refuses to take off, even to drink his liquor. you don't try to hide the grimace on your face when you watch him sip through the thick fabric. he's got skeleton gloves on his hands too, like some sort of shit cosplay to match his mask.

and he fucking stares, unashamedly so. it is unblinking, scrutinizing, intense— his dark eyes, pools of midnight, keen. he stares at the people walking in through the door, stares at johnny when he takes your friend to the dance floor, and when you tell him out of courtesy that you're going to go get another drink, you can feel him boring holes into the back of your head as you walk away, piercing flesh and bone.

the phantom fingers of his gaze trace icy paths along your spine, erupting your skin in goosebumps. you find him immensely creepy, and you thank the fucking stars you're only here as a favor for your friend. you don't think you want to do this again. he's either a wanted serial killer or just a goddamn freak.

a heavy arm wraps around your shoulders once you're at the bar, and with a sneer on your lips, you turn to the owner of said offending limb, only to come face to face with johnny. he leans into you, close enough to where you can feel his stubble grazing the shell of your ear. (back up, brother.)

"listen, bonnie!" you wince; it's really not that loud in here for him to be yelling like that. "ah ken, ghos— er, simon, might no' be yer average man. he can be a little off-puttin'—" a little? if he doesn't follow you home and skin you alive, you'd be incredibly fortunate— "but ah promise ye, while he may no' be boyfriend material, he's an incredible fuck."

excuse me? he's got to be positively pissed. "maybe you should slow down, yeah? you might already be three sheets to the wind if you're gassing up your unsettling friend's cock. no offense."

"naw! ah'm tellin' ye. long ago, we had a mission tha' ran everyone tight, 'n so we relieved tension the only way we could— big, strong guy like him had me limpin' for a few days after."

you're about to ask for an angel shot because there is no way in hell that your friend's boyfriend is making casual conversation about him getting absolutely railed by—

"give 'em a try. jus' the once, i swear he don't bite," johnny pauses-- the rosy flush on his nose and cheeks vibrant, "unless ye ask nicely. yer friend said ye needed to get laid, anyways." oh, you're gonna fucking kill her, that long-tongued cretin.

"right!" you drink the remainder of your cocktail in one big gulp, liquid warmth trailing down your throat, before not-so-kindly shrugging him off. "i'm gonna go, you, uh— we didn't have this conversation, for the sake of my friend." you gesture at the bartender. "one more, please. i'm gonna need it."

-

damn. now johnny's got you thinking about getting your back broken by simon. maybe you really are just down horrendously, or maybe it's the alcohol in your system that has decided to toss all self-preservation out the metaphorical window because now you can't stop noticing him.

he's real tall— enough to have him slightly tipping his head to walk through a doorway. his shoulders are mountainous, his hands the size of a bear's paw. his physicality is undoubtedly impressive and well, you've always been weak to burly, commanding men.

you make eye contact with johnny from across the room, his bright blue eyes alive under the dim light of the dingy bar, and the bastard shifts his gaze from simon to you, giving a cheeky wink.

lifting your glass, you drink the last of your liquid courage— the taste of it bittersweet. it has been a long time since you've gotten laid.

double damn.

"hey." you lean slightly toward simon, cupping your hand around your mouth. "you and i both know why we're here. take me home?" the way he looks at you has you shifting restlessly in your seat. did you perhaps make a mistake? oh, fuck. did you just throw yourself cunt-first at someone who is not interested? your face burns with embarrassment, heat licking up your cheeks. maybe the earth will split open, right here ri—

"let's go then." oh thank fucking god. you don't know what you would've done if he'd said no. shrivel up and die, probably. "uber'll be here in 4."

when it arrives, he places his leather jacket around your shoulders, cocooning you in its warmth— the heady scent of nicotine clings to the garment— and leads you outside with a hand on the small of your back.

-

the world outside the car blurs into a hazy painting as the driver navigates the streets. colors blend together, once sharp outlines now dissolved. the rain gently taps on the window, a soothing sound that could easily lull you to sleep until you start when a roughened palm suddenly glides along your thigh— fingers slowly tracing intimate patterns on your skin.

simon's hand is hot, and it only burns hotter the closer it gets to your center under your least favorite skirt. he cannot be serious right now. you place your hand over his, short nails biting into him because there is no way you're about to be fingered in an uber—

his voice is deep, a deliciously thick rumble, right by your ear. "nice kitty." you've never been one for pet names or anything else for that matter, but the pulse of arousal that shoots up your spine has a shaky exhale leaving your lips, a ghostly breath fogging up the window.

the tips of his fingers tease the seam of your knickers, a generic cotton fabric that clings to your dampening cunt like a second skin— desire trickling onto the gusset. your whimper is drowned out by the terrible music the driver is currently playing when his small finger grazes over your slit, featherlight.

"so wet already? i've barely even touched ya, love." again with the cunt-clenching nicknames. he has no business purring them out like that. "i can smell your sweet pussy from here. you really must be achin' for it." of course the time he chooses to be vocal, it's to spew filth. "don't worry, i'll treat ya good."

somehow, you actually manage to choke out a response. "i'm sure. johnny-" you hiss through clenched teeth when he slips under your knickers, a finger brushing along your slick entrance, "said you had him walking side to side once." you buck your hips, seeking the friction you need, but it only makes him pull away a bit; how unsurprisingly cruel.

"only because he was bein' a brat. you're not a brat though, are ya? gonna be good f'me?" your tongue is heavy in your mouth, words lodged in your throat— all you can give him is a slight nod. "i expect verbal answers. i'd hate to spank your arse raw. how would ya sit down after?"

the idea of being bent over his strong thighs, face pressed into his couch as his firm hand takes you into the needy subspace you crave is too much, or maybe not enough because you're tucking your face into the side of his neck in an instant. "please," you warble, unsure of what you're even begging for.

he curls his finger, slipping between your lips, and when he finally brushes your clit— a fleeting, tantalizing touch— your eyes threaten to roll into the back of your head. "needy little thing. i bet there's a damp spot right where you're sittin'. drippin' all over my fingers—" your breath is ripped from your lungs when he abruptly pulls his hand out and away, the sodden material of your knickers snapping against your heated skin. you're about to snarl out a vicious what the fuck, but the once-blurred scenery outside sharpens into focus.

the driver parks and looks at you from the rearview mirror. "we're here." you mumble a muted thank you, stepping out with quivering legs and a drenched cunt. a crisp breeze dances across your skin, a refreshing contrast to the stifling heat from inside the car.

as soon as the car drives off, you're hoisted onto a broad shoulder. the world tilts, and you fist the back of simon's shirt for stability. "highly unnecessary. i can wa—" you let out a squeak when he slaps the back of your thigh, the sharp bite of it sending a jolt straight to your throbbing center.

"hush."

you sputter indignantly as you hold on tighter, breaths coming out in short gasps, syncing with each step. "i beg your pardon?"

you yelp when he gives you another slap, this time closer to your cunt. "then beg." you're rendered speechless.

wow. maybe you've actually bitten off more than you can chew.

the wet cement under you is a blur, the texture lost in the rush of his movements until he comes to a stop, and you hear a familiar jingle of keys. he bursts through the door, the hinges groaning in protest, and you're staggeringly planted on both feet.

"nice place." a lie. it looks unlived in— brand spanking new. you vaguely hear the lock behind you as you take in your surroundings. a perfect, leather couch, not a crease in sight. the rug under it is pristine and bland, a cream color that matches the rest of his flat. impersonal. not an ounce of real personality anywhere. you begin shrugging off his jacket when you're suddenly pressed against the cold door, simon bent at the knees in front of you, his dark eyes— sharp as blades— lock onto yours.

"gonna beg?"

the fire in your lower belly reignites at the sight of his unmasked face. ash-brown hair in a simple crew cut, thick brows with the right one bisected by a pink, gnarled scar. slightly crooked nose, broken one too many times, and thin, pale lips. a countenance to match his rugged personality.

you're pulled out of your thoughts when he licks a hot stripe over your covered slit and you mewl at the sensation. "i asked you a question."

the words rush out of your mouth before you can even think of stopping them. "yes, yes! please, god, i don't- just- please let me come! i-" his thumbs hook into the waistband of your knickers and tug them down slowly, strings of arousal sticking to the gusset, smearing on your inner thighs.

"alrigh', since ya begged so prettily." your vision goes white when he throws one leg over his shoulder, and his slick tongue slides through your folds, the tip flicking your clit lightly. he laps at your cunt like it drips milk and honey— nourishing and sweet. simon groans into you, the sound crawling up your vertebrae and into the base of your skull.

he begins to draw lazy circles around your pearl, every swirl of his tongue has your back bowing as if winding it, inching you closer to the precipice. your toes curl in your shoes, hands finding purchase in his coarse hair, knuckles staining white as you start the feel the familiar tightening in your lower belly.

and then he pushes one thick finger into you, down to the scarred knuckle, and crooks it. the squelching noise your dripping pussy makes when he presses on the tiny patch of rough skin inside is loud and obscene; practically echoing off the dull, ivory walls of his flat.

"gonna come f'me? make a mess all over my hand?" simon adds another finger, a slight burn nipping at the heels of the pleasure coiling under your navel.

"c'mon. give it to me, pet." his lips encircle your clit, giving it a light suckle and it's—

the coil snaps, a sudden release of tension. it is violent and oh, so exquisite. white noise in your head, your ears, coursing through your veins. it prickles, it stings; it's pleasure and pain. your soul sinks back into your body— like a feather returning to its nest— and you blink, momentarily unbalanced.

"ya with me?"

you breathe deep— the taste of salt in the air, the scent of sweat-slick skin, your heart pulsing with life. "yes. i'm here." the man took you to the stars and laid you on them. jesus.

"good." the room spins, and you're weightless, nestled in his arms. it'd seem innocent if it wasn't for the stickiness in between your thighs, or the prominent bulge in his jeans occasionally pressing into your arse.

simon kicks a door open, knob bouncing off the wall with a crack, and quickly places you on the bed before tugging his shirt off. the belt and jeans come off next, and—

"you don't wear pants." why would he let that monstrosity just hang like that?

"good observation. is water still wet?" he asks, tonelessly. you narrow your eyes at him, pushing your tongue against the back of your teeth.

"fuck me for having eyes and using them as intended, i guess," you mumble under your breath. he grabs you by the ankle and tugs the skirt off, then your shoes, "ouch, i like my feet where they are, thank you," and literally rips your shirt in half. "you'll be giving me on of yours before i leave as recompense."

he holds himself up with his arms over you, your thighs burning as they cradle his hips.

his cock is a heavy, hot weight on your stomach— ruddy, leaking tip right under your navel. you're not small by any means, but he's going to tear you in half. there's no surviving such an onslaught. he's not just leaving you with a limp, he's going to turn your two smaller holes into one big one.

he tears into a golden wrapper with his teeth, and expertly rolls the condom on. simon lowers down to his elbows and nudges your jaw with his nose. "i'll stop the moment ya call it. tap on me if you're feelin' overwhelmed."

that's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to you, and the fact that it comes from a massive creep who stares at people like they owe him money has you a bit dumbstruck.

his stubble grazes the side of your neck as he glides his cock along your slick folds; once, thrice, until the head catches on your swollen entrance. simon pushes in slow, agonizingly slow— you don't know if it's better or worse because you feel every devastating inch of his length as it forcibly wrenches your walls apart.

your senses are solely focused on him: his body enveloping yours completely. his breath, sweetened like malt, wafts gently across your skin. his thick waist that you can't fully wrap your legs around. everything about him is big— his physicality, his presence, his cock.

"take a deep breath for me, pet. feel everythin' i'm givin' you."

your lungs expand as you do, and when you exhale, your muscles slacken. rapturous pleasure begins to bleed through the delicate membrane that separates it from the bite of pain, until boundaries are blurred and—

and he sinks into you like a rock breaking the surface tension of still water, bottoming out in one, smooth stroke. you can't help the mewl that falls from your lips nor the way your walls clamp down around him.

"fuck, there it is. so bloody tight, this greedy cunt is takin' my cock like it was made for me."

there isn't a single coherent thought in your head and you're glad for it. finally, someone to fuck you stupid.

simon gives you an experimental thrust, dragging his length along every single one of your nerves, and then another— desire overflowing from where he stuffs you to the very brim. "good. ready?"

he takes your tiny nod as an answer this time and begins to fuck you in earnest. it takes everything in you to not black out from how perfect it felt.

simon puts his weight behind every thrust, a steady pull out, and a spine-jarring push in. you can feel him deep in your stomach, a delicious pinch of discomfort each time he presses against the plug of your womb.

"so fuckin' wet, your cunt's droolin' all over me." he hooks an arm under your left leg and lifts, the angle he's put you in tittering dangerously on the tightrope of rapture and ache.

it's so good, so fucking good, your slick walls fluttering as he carves himself into you, your soul, your cunt when you feel a tight snap inside.

simon pulls out in an instant, taking your breath with him as he does. you look down at his cock and notice that—

"the condom broke. i've got another in the drawer, gimme a sec."

there is some weird thing that lodges in place somewhere deep in your sternum when you realize that he's been nothing but considerate and attentive to you since he brought you home and hasn't fussed over anything once. it's an extremely low bar, you are aware. rewarding what should be the bare fucking minimum is sad, but you're not completely altruistic in your motives anyway. you want to feel his bare cock inside as he rearranges your insides.

"no!" he quickly turns to look at you, "no. it's okay. i'm clean and i'm also on the pill. if that's okay with you, of course."

a man his stature should not move as fast as he just did, blinking from one side of the room to the other. he quickly throws both of your legs over his shoulders, heels resting on his back when he sinks back in, this time letting out a guttural groan as he does.

you can feel the ridge of his flared head, the warmth of his cock seeping into your tender walls— a new level of intimacy. he fucks you with fervor now, a precise snap of his hips that has your teeth clacking with every thrust.

your climax takes you by complete surprise, crashing into you like waves on a rocky, jagged shore. burst after burst of blinding pleasure threatens to consume you whole, and when your limbs are loose and syrupy— body limp— only then do you realize that he came just as fast. thick white ropes of viscous spend cover your stomach and trail down to your abused cunt.

your hamstrings already hurt with delayed onset muscle soreness. you might actually need a wheelchair to go back home.

(thank god your hips held out, and no, you don't care that it's essentially sacrilegious of you to even think that.)

his breathing comes out in ragged bursts, beads of sweat dripping onto the valley of your breasts.

and he's back to the fucking staring. "simon."

"pet."

"please stop looking at me like that."

he huffs and dips his head to flick your hardened nipple with his tongue, making you hiss with over sensitivity.

"make me."

-

as dawn breaks, the world begins to stir awake. hues of pale pink stain the sky, the first blush of morning. light and shadow begin to blend in the bedroom.

your phone vibrates under the pillow, simon's arm tightening around your soft waist at the buzzing sound. his lips press a light kiss on the sensitive skin by your ear, and his large hand begins to weave its way downward, pads of his fingers gathering the evidence of last night (or early morning) and gently parts your folds, brushing light strokes on your clit.

when he places your leg around his hip and sinks into you from behind, your phone buzzes again-- alone and forgotten.

good morning!!! i expect a full, detailed report by lunch or so help you god.

sent 5:30 am

about time you got laid, you're not you when you're horny.

sent 5:49 am

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon ghost riley smut #cod smut #simon ghost riley x f reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader

[vindixta]

of all my ocs ronnie is absolutely one of the ones that i have put the most of myself into in terms of mannerisms and image, like obvs i wasn't attacked in a slasher-movie esque scenario but a lot of the ways she deals with her trauma is directly pulled from my own, the way she addresses it and recovers is my way of finding peace and closure, even if it seems toxic or unhealthy (i do not endorse unhealthy coping mechanisms by the way. do as i say not as i do.) she is very cathartic to write and think about to me idk i just love her a whole lot :)

#ooc. #musing. #yadda yadda something abt the final girl trope being identified with by queer people and similar #something abt feeling isolated from the rest of the world and using your differences as a badge of honour #but also shying away from addressing your trauma because you feel like all you are is your pain #abt feeling broken and like you'll never be normal and like everyone around you somehow knows some universal secret to happiness you don't #abt seeing everything bad that's happened to you or you've done behind your eyes when you lay down to sleep #about healing not out of care for yourself or belief that you deserve it but for the people you care about #and most of all out of spite #abt the way that even when you act in ways that feel cruel and ugly and hostile to people who don't know your story you can still be good #veronica is a bitch in so many ways. she's argumentative. she can be cruel. she sees people being kind to her as pity #but she'll also (literally) die for those she cares about. she's someone who's seen the worst of the world and now trusts nobody. #even if she doesn't trust the majority of people she still chooses to see the best in those that she thinks are misjudged #she's very much a love letter to my struggle with self image that i still struggle with now and the way i've had to fight to like myself #anyway this is an entire novel i promise i'm ok mentally rn i just think about her a lot <3

[nanaslutt]

HATE SEX WITH GETO PLEASE 😭😭🙏🏾🙏🏾🙏🏾

contains: fem reader, spanking, choking, manhandling, hate fucking, rough sex, dirty talk, cheating, spanking, bathroom sex, angst w/ no comfort, proceed with caution :3

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Just thinking about hate sex with ex-boyfriend Geto. You received a video from an unknown number a couple months ago of your boyfriend at the club, big arms slung around two pretty girls as one ground on him under the flashing lights and blaring music of the club. The video was short, but it was all you needed to see. You forwarded the video to Geto, captioned with the words, "fuck you."

The night he went out he told you he was having a guy's night out with Gojo, so imagine your surprise when you woke up to him acting like a whore in public. You still did never find out who sent you that video. Geto spent days blowing up your phone, using your mutual friends to try and talk to you, even going as far to show up to your house, but you rejected all of his advances.

After about a month and a half, when things had calmed down and it was evident to the both of you that your relationship was well over, you finally started going out again. The reason it took you so long? The two of you were in the same friend group. There's a reason they say to date outside of your circle, for situations exactly like this.

Your big debut back into your circle of friends was a night out clubbing. Gojo, Shoko, Utahime, and Nanami were sitting on the plush cushions around you. The only reason you agreed to go out with them tonight was because Shoko had promised Geto wouldn't be there, saying he was stuck at work. Truthfully though, Shoko had missed you so much in the group outings, that she would've found a way to drag you out of the house even if Geto was going to be there.

"This is nice, I'll admit. I missed you guys." You said, working on your second cocktail of the night. Drinks always tasted better when Gojo paid. "Awww~ I don't know how you went so long without seeing me, honestly~" Gojo teased, ruffling your hair in the process. You swatted his hand away, fixing your hair while you shot him a nasty side-eye. "Us, he meant US." Utahime corrected, placing her hand on your knee while also shooting daggers at Gojo.

Gojo stuck out his tongue at Utahime, crossing his legs as he leaned back into the cushions, his arms spreading out behind you and Nanami on the top of the couch. "It's true though, it's nice having you here," Nanami added a light blush dusting on his face from how many drinks he had already downed; he must not have work tomorrow. "Thank you Nanami." you smiled at him before leaning back, crossing your legs over one another, your short black dress riding up your thighs slightly in the process.

"I've been so pent up all month, this feels so good." You giggled, tipping your head over as you directed your words to the girls. "Yeah? I know how you can feel even better." Shoko smirked, sipping on her straight vodka. Utahime smiled giddily, leaning her body forward in interest as she also waited for Shoko to speak. "Blondie over there at the bar has been eyeing you up since we got here, go talk to him." She nudged, wiggling her eyebrows at you.

You have been wound up in more ways than one since you and Geto had broken up. He always dicked you down so good, you would miss that. Who knows though, maybe blondie with the nice jawline and pretty face would give you good pipe in the bathroom. You eye him up, biting your lip as you dragged your eyes over his sturdy frame, only noticing he had been watching you oogle him like a slab of meat the whole time when you went to rake your eyes over his handsome face. He smiled, his dimples showing themselves as they dug into his cheeks, fuck he was hot. This was the perfect guy to use to get over Geto, screw that cheater.

"Oh shitt~ Look at them eye fucking each other~ Haha!" Gojo laughed, sipping on his sweet, non-alcoholic, bright pink drink. You turned your head to smirk at Gojo before you placed your hand on his shoulder and used it to push yourself off the seat. "You're really going for it?" Shoko asked incredulously, giggling behind your hand as you smoothed out your dress. "Why not? I'm horny and single, and a hot man is looking at me like I'm the hottest woman he's ever laid eyes on." You said, smiling down at your friends.

"That's because you are," Shoko added, grabbing your thigh for leverage she spun you around to face the man behind you sitting on the barstools, waiting for you to approach him. "I would be jealous If I liked men, he's a cutie." She laughed to Utahime as she watched you take a deep breath and walk off toward the man.

You walked through the club with confidence, a heartbeat already forming behind your panties as you got closer and closer, watching the way he eyed up your body as you walked. "Friends talked some sense into you, huh?" The man spoke when you got within ear shot. You took the seat next to him, plopping down on the barstool you spun the seat around to face him, your legs slotting together with one another as you placed your heel-clad feet on the bottom of his barstool.

His eyes darted down to your legs, watching you insert yourself into his space with confidence. "Too shy to come up to me yourself?" You asked, placing your hand on his knee as you rubbed circles against his pants, making him swallow the lump in his throat, feeling the heat rise to his face with how bold you were being. "You kidding? Those guys you're with are fucking repellent. Didn't know if you were with one of them or not." He laughed, taking a sip of his drink to ease his nerves.

"But you were watching me anyways?" You teased, keeping your eyes locked onto his. He took in a deep breath, pressing his lips together as before he spoke. "You have no idea what you look like, huh?" He asked, narrowing his eyes at you. "Who wouldn't be able to resist looking at someone like you?" His words sent shivers down your spine, you needed to get him in a bathroom stall with you hours ago. As the two of you continued flirting with one another, eyefucking each other as you sipped on your respective drinks, someone unexpected entered the club.

"Heyy." Geto's voice echoed into your friend's ears. The dark-haired man was half up, half down in his signature bun, one hand tucked into his pocket while his other was held up in front of him, waving to his friends. "Hey troublemaker~" Gojo smiled largely. Shoko groaned along with Utahime. "Thought you couldn't make it?" Nanami asked as he slid in next to him on the couch, spreading his long legs out on the cushions as he took Nanami's drink from him, taking a gulp.

"Got off early, thought I might come by." He responded, laughing when a drunk Nanami snatched his drink back from Geto, muttering to order his own drink. "Come by my ass, you work on the other side of town." Shoko laughed incredulously, adding that you were not going to be very happy. "She's here?" Geto asked, his demeanor immediately perking up. Shoko looked to Utahime knowingly before she looked back to Geto, hissing air in through her teeth.

"Yes cheater~ Of course she's here, and she's about to score by the looks of it." Shoko laughed, making Gojo whistle as he dragged his gaze to you, watching you pull your head back from the whispering something in the mans ear before his lips moved, head moving in tandem as you slid off of the barstool, taking his larger hand in his as you dragged him away from the seat, making him place his drink down on the bar top, abandoning it as you dragged him away to the bathroom.

Geto had just watched the entire scene unfold in front of him that the rest of them had seen. Of course, Geto had come here for you. Shoko was right, he worked almost half an hour away from the club, he was exhausted from work but when he saw you say in the group chat you were going to be here, he knew he had to make a detour. He knew he fucked up when he lied to you about going to the club, but truthfully he had done nothing more than let a couple girls fawn over him, grinding on him while they peppered kisses on his cheeks, never coming close to his mouth.

He still loved you, of course, he did, but you had been adamant about not seeing him at all for almost two months. He hadn't really given up, he would never give up on trying to get you back, he just figured maybe a little break and letting you calm down would lead you back to him. Clearly, he was wrong as he watched you maneuver your way through the crowd, dragging some man you met five minutes prior away to fuck, looking good as all hell.

He grits his teeth, pressing his feet firmly on the floor Geto was on the move in a heartbeat, no one could stop him. "Oh look what you did." Nanami huffed, looking at Shoko. "She's gonna be fucking pissed you know." Shoko's jaw was on the floor. She severely underestimated the amount of balls Suguru Geto had. "How the fuck was I supposed to know he was gonna go chase after her???" She said, looking at him with an expression that almost resembled horror, making Gojo laugh his ass off between them.

Once you made it to the secluded corner of the club just outside the bathrooms, you spun your body around, wrapping your arms around the man. "You wanna fuck me?" You whispered into his ear, feeling his large hands wrap around your waist, his knee sliding between your legs. He groaned at your words, staring between your lips and your pretty eyes as you bit your lip at him, "Fuck yeah, pretty girl." He smiled, shaking his head as he leaned in for a kiss.

You closed your eyes, waiting for a sensation against your lips that never came. Your eyes shot open when he yelled out an exasperated "Hey! What the fuck!" His lips loosened on your waist as he was dragged away from you by a strong grip on his hair. "Geto?!" You yelled, spinning your body to look at him, your body heating up with rage combined with the neglect of pleasure. "Who the fuck are you?!" The blond-haired man yelled, trying to grip Geto's wrist to make him release the hold he had on his hair.

"Her boyfriend." He deadpanned, throwing him in the direction of the club as he reached his hand over your head, pushing the door open behind you, forcing you into the small bathroom with his large frame, leaving you no time to refute. "I didn't know man, fuck!" The man's voice was cut off as the bathroom door shut behind the two of you, Geto's hand coming down to lock the door, leaving you alone in the personal bathroom.

"What the fuck are you doing?" You asked, shoving his chest back, Geto not even moving a muscle as his jaw muscles bulged out under the weight of his clenching teeth, his dark eyes watching you fume. "What the fuck were you doing?" Geto responded, walking toward you slowly, making you step back unconsciously, trying to keep some distance between the two of you. "Why is that any of your fucking business?" You spat, almost laughing at his audacity.

"We never officially broke up." Geto retorted, clenching his fists by his sides. "Oh! Oho!" You laughed, "Excuse me, allow me to make it official for you, we are fucking done." You dug your nail into his chest, squinting your eyes as you looked into his, your tall heels making you feel more confident as your height difference wasn't as dramatic now. "Thought I made it pretty fucking clear when I didn't respond to you for almost two months, but you always were pretty dense." You huffed, backing away from him once you got your point across.

"Were you just trying to get even with me? Huh? Thought fucking some random guy in the club like a slut would make you feel better about yourself?" He yelled, continuing to walk toward you until your back hit the wall, making you jolt, you hadn't even realized you were walking backward. "The fuck did you call me?" You asked, scrunching your eyebrows together. "You're such a fucking hypocrite, acting like that wasn't exactly what you did to me." You laughed again. You felt like you were going crazy, why was he acting like you were the one in the wrong here?

"I never fucked them! Never! Maybe if you answered my fucking calls or looked at my texts you would know that!" He shouted, getting in your face. You shook your head, looking at him with disdain. "Oh, because letting girls dry hump you is so much fucking better, right?" You yelled back, the ghost of a smile gracing your features, you were so done with him.

"God you really are the worst." You spat, your eyes shooting daggers into his own. "How the fuck are you gonna make up for scaring that guy off, huh?" You asked, tilting your head at him, making his eyes lock onto yours once more. Geto cocked his head at you, clearly uncomfortable with you mentioning the blonde stranger, knowing damn well you meant you were going to fuck him, and now you were left dry.

You scoffed, "What? Don't like the thought of me getting off on someone else's cock? Moaning someone else's name? Huh? That shit make you mad?" You got in his face, keeping your squinted eyes on his dark ones. Geto doesn't know what came over him, but he couldn't stand to hear you talk anymore. His lips were on yours, swallowing your surprised moans, immediately slipping his tongue into your mouth, crushing his jaw into yours, your head bumping into the wall behind you.

You were still mad as hell, but his lips felt so familiar, your arousal crept up through the cracks of your irritation and made you kiss him back harder, fighting him for dominance. His hand came to grab your throat, squeezing harshly, his fingers digging into your delicate skin, making you whine into the kiss. He was never this rough with you, and you were loving it.

He pulled back, his free hand coming down to undo his belt quickly, pulling the leather through the loops as he threw it somewhere on the floor of the filthy bathroom floor, "Don't you ever talk about someone else fucking you in front of me." He growled, squeezing your throat to emphasize his words, You smiled through the lack of oxygen, little black dots clouding your vision, but you still felt the need to fight back. "Fuck you." You whispered.

Geto spun you around in one swift movement, making you face the wall, your hands coming to brace against the brick as you felt him lift your skirt over the curve of your ass, your panties being roughly yanked down midway on your thighs. Everything was happening so quickly, the adrenaline pumping through your veins only fueling your arousal. You knew this was not a good idea, but your body was too weak to Geto.

Geto shook his head as his eyes came into contact with your dripping pussy. He bit his lip between his teeth, pulling his cock out through his pants as he gave himself a couple rough strokes, his hand sliding down to your ass as he rubbed his thumb through your folds, spreading them and rubbing your wetness around before he dipped the digit into your hole, slowly pumping in and out. He was absolutely fuming at the thought of you giving this to someone else, he wondered if you had in the time you haven't been talking.

"You this wet from that fucking loser, or from me yelling at you?" Geto asked, pulling his thumb back to leave a rough smirk on your ass, pushing his hips forward as he rubbed his tip along your folds, getting his cock slick with your juices. "You're so full of yourself, shoulda seen the way he was touching me under the table." You giggled, turning your head to the side to look at him. You kept your words vague on purpose to piss Geto off. He had been touching you under the table, but only your thigh.

"You fucking slut." Geto grit through his teeth, his hand coming to grip the back of your neck, his fingers pinching your skin with how hard he was gripping you. "And you still wanna fuck me." You laughed, the noise getting cut short when he pushed his cock into you all at once with zero warning, keeping his balls pressed to your ass as he let his cock throb inside your walls still, his back pressing agaisnt your chest as he leaned into your ear, his deep voice whispering, "That's enough out of you." His voice alone was enough to send shivers down your spine.

"Fuck!" you yelled when he pulled his hips back before he bullied his cock back into your unprepped walls, stretching you open as he meanly fucked you against the wall. "Shit- Think he could fuck you better than me? Huh?" Geto asked, leaning back as he pressed the back of your neck into the wall, his other hand holding under your hip as he held you in an arch, the pace of his hips making your knees squeeze together, bending slightly at the stimulation.

You brought one of your hands down between your thighs to rub little circles into your clit, your eyes crossing at the feeling. Geto must have felt how tight you got because he groaned through his teeth, his hand leaving your hip for a moment to come down to leave a harsh smack on your ass. "Fuck- I don't know, heh- If you didn't interrupt me I w-would've found out. He shook his head, smiling through the malice he felt coursing through his veins. "You're such a fucking brat." Smack, "Just sayin' that shit to get me worked up so I'll fuck you like the whore you are."

You wanted to hit him back every time he slapped your ass. Sure, it felt good, but you knew he was trying to put you in your place, so the action made a vein pop out on your forehead. You were so glad he couldn't see your face right now. Your words might've been sharp and snarky, but your face was flushed red and your eyes were rolling back in your head every time his fat cock thrust right against your sweet spot deep inside you, the one only he could reach. "I-I hate you-" You moaned out between his mean thrusts.

You heard him coo in response, his hand leaning the back of your neck so he could grip your waist with both hands and yank you back on his cock harder, fucking whines from your lips. "Don't talk to me like that baby, hurts my feelings~" Geto retorted, his jaw dropping in a small o when you rubbed your clit harder at his words, making your hole clench around him so tightly it felt like you were trying to milk him of all he was worth.

"Would you really be squeezing me this tight if you hated me? Hmm?" He teased, practically slamming your ass back on his pelvis, loud squelching noises bouncing off the walls. Thank god you were in this loud-ass club or everyone would know exactly what was going on, not like you really cared. "Shut up and fuck m-me." You responded curtly, closing your eyes as you tried to focus on reaching your high, timing your finger rubbing circles against your clit with his thrusts inside you.

"That's what I'm doing, dumb s-slut." Geto groaned, dropping his gaze to where the two of you were connected, feeling a warmth in his stomach bloom at the white ring of cum that had formed around the base of his dick. "Godd pussy is fucking milking me- you cant survive without me, need me- need this dick." Geto spoke between rough thrusts, his own words working himself up as he felt his high creep over him.

You grit your teeth at his words, moans spilling from your lips without your permission. He was fucking the shit out of you, you don't think he's ever been so rough before. His words, his hips, his hands, all of it, so fucking rough, and it was quickly working you up to your orgasm. You were too overwhelmed, tears started forming in your eyes with all of the stimulation and emotion you were feeling. He was hammering into your g-spot, making your legs shake uncontrollably.

"God- fuck- Gonna make me cum inside my pussy, my fucking pussy-" Geto babbled, shaking his head as he tried to get a peek at your face, noticing how you had bitten your lip between your teeth, tears streaming down your face. "Fuck, you crying? Feels that good?" He laughed. You didn't want him to know how good you were feeling, didn't want him to know his words were true; you couldn't live without him or his dick. His cock alone was literally fucking tears out of your eyes, it was so intense.

"Not gonna speak huh? Fine, stay quiet then." Your ex-boyfriend huffed, looking down at your pussy stretched around his girth as he fucked himself to his orgasm, you close behind him. "Shit- shit I'm coming- take it baby fu-ck~" Geto groaned, leaning over your back, burring his face into your neck. You felt his teeth dig into your neck when you felt the first rope of his warm seed shoot inside you, making your orgasm crash over you.

The two of you rode your highs out together, Geto's hips weakly and unceremoniously thrusting into your sopping cunt, working you through your orgasms. Geto jerked against your body, his strong hands wrapping around your torso as he kept you pressed against him, unloading his cum into your abused pussy. You whimpered into the wall, feeling his teeth leave your neck when he started coming down from his high, his face keeping its place in your neck.

The two of you stayed quiet for a while, relishing in the silence save for the dull booming of the club music echoing through the walls of the bathroom. Geto's hands were petting the skin of your hips, and for just a moment, you let yourself think everything was okay, losing yourself in the feeling; until he spoke. "I am sorry you know. So fucking sorry." He whispered into your neck, not daring to move.

You heaved out a sigh, pushing his arms off of you. You reached behind you and pushed his pelvis back, wincing in overstimulation when his softened cock slid out of your walls, his cum chasing after him, making your face scrunch at the uncomfortable feeling. "That wasn't what this was." You responded coldly. Bending down you pulled your panties up, keeping his cum snug inside you.

You turned around to watch him open your mouth, to which you held your hand up, stopping him; amazed when he actually listened. You pushed past him, bumping his shoulder in the process. Without another word, you unlocked the bathroom door and on shaky legs, left the small room and out into the nightclub to find Shoko and Utahime and get the hell out of there. Geto sighed deeply, tipping his head back as he stared at the ceiling before he closed his eyes, feeling the remorse wash over him, "fuck."

#jjk smut #gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #angst #geto smut #getou suguru x reader #jujutsu geto #geto x reader #jjk geto #geto suguru x reader #geto x you #geto suguru #getou suguru smut #geto x y/n #geto suguru drabble #getou suguru x you #jjk suguru #jujutsu kaisen suguru #satoru gojo #gojo

[madigoround]

🙃

#I can’t remember if I’ve talked about it publicly on here but spark notes version and then we’re going to move on because it is relevant to #the issue at hand: when I was a kid not only did my parents abuse me and my sister but they also abused animals and mostly it was just that #they were neglected and starved to death but there was also a lot of my dad kicking the animals and my mom throwing the ones that she could #pick up across the room in anger and sometimes they would hit things and like generally stuff like that and I always knew it was wrong #it always scared me right? but I didn’t understand how wrong at the time because I kind of just thought everyone’s parents must beat the #shit out of animals just like I kind of thought everyone’s parents abused them a little bit #and then when I became an adult and got away and lived with other people with pets I realized how much people care about their pets and like #to the extent that they will buy all this extra stuff for them just because and treat them to all kinds of shit like doggy daycare #and more than anything I was just confused and I still am pretty much because it wasn’t right but I was taught that animals don’t matter and #my example of how to treat them was more like objects than living beings and I don’t agree with that I know that’s not kind and I’ve read a #ton of books on the right way to treat animals because I don’t want to be like my parents so like I’m trying right? like I’m genuinely #trying to be better I promise you but here’s the part that’s really bothering me that I’m not sure I can tell people in real life because I #don’t think someone who didn’t grow up like me would understand? and like I’m glad most people didn’t grow up like me but im just talking to #myself here and maybe someone will see this that understands: I think there’s something broken in my brain #and I can’t feel that like thing everyone seems to have about their pets I’ve been talking to people all week about how it’s a trial run and #im not sure im going to keep her and everyone has been emphatically telling me that their lives are so much better because of their pets and #they tell me about all this hardship they’ve gone through to give their pets nice things and whatnot or to clean up after them when they #destroy their belongings but you know it’s SO WORTH IT and I feel like something is broken in me because I don’t feel that way about any #animal like I enjoy petting animals and I enjoy giving them love but and here’s a part I feel really bad about I would be just fine if this #cat wasn’t here I am just fine on my own and they seem like more effort than they’re worth kind of I mean she is causing hell and I am being #patient I am cleaning up after her diligently I am reading the articles on how to make her separation anxiety better I am trying to be a #good pet parent and I just don’t feel it like she’s a lovely cat she’s so sweet even if she’s a menace and a problem causer but I don’t feel #what everyone else seems to feel and I’m confused and hurt and I feel broken #I don’t understand what else I could do to be better

[uglyducklingofthe2000s]

Can I Get a Kiss? - LN

Summary: Lando always wants a kiss and he's not afraid to ask for it. Man is unapologetically WHIPPED.

PSA, Lando's outfit and specifically these photos make me sweat a little.

Lando would never say he's needy. Never.

Y/n would absolutely say Lando is needy. But that is definitely not a bad thing in her eyes.

"Wait, wait pause." Lando demands hearing the front door in his apartment open and close. "Baby! Is that you?"

"Oh for god sake." Max groans dropping back in his seat since he knows exactly what's about to happen.

"Yeah, it's me. Is everything ok?" Y/n smiles making him look at her for a moment before pulling his headphones off.

"Can I have a kiss?" He asks earning a small laugh from her before she leans over and kisses him softly, though one kiss apparently isn't enough and she's pulled into another kiss from the driver before sighing and settling down.

"Can I play for a bit?"

"Yeah, Max thinks you're better than me anyway." Lando jokes, though that's not even a lie.

Y/n ends up helping the boys on the mission all while feeling Lando hug her and continue to kiss her shoulder as his eyes watch her on the game and sometimes just watch her.

But eventually the game is over and she leaves Lando to play without her interference.

"Kiss, baby. Kiss." He reminds her almost as if he's lecturing her to remember that there is never a moment wrong to give him a kiss. Even if she's trying to leave him to stream.

-

"Ah ah ah! Y/n! Kiss." Lando exclaims seeing her walk into the garage since she was requested by Lando and Jon was sent to get her.

"You brought me in the garage for that?" Y/n laughs before looking at Zak who is in there and watching the young couple.

"I gave him my blessing because I'm sick of him pouting." Zak states with a shrug almost looking defeated but also not seeming all that bothered.

"So needy." Y/n jokes knowing while Lando denies it and she accepts it, Lando hates being called needy.

"Baby...Kiss." Lando grumbles, not whining but almost sounding annoyed she's been there for this long and he's not got to kiss her.

Deciding to be extra, she jumped up around his waist and catches him in a kiss that is movie ending worthy. Though admittedly she doesn't expect Ted Notebook to appear since it's ahead of qualifying.

Lando hoists her up onto the side counter which is a little higher than where she'd been sitting on his waist. His thumbs rubbing at her thighs as she sits there.

"Kiss." He murmurs earning a grin before she leans in kissing him again.

Later they see the footage everywhere and the McLaren PR team tell them both to reign it in with the PDA. But Lando has no intentions of doing that and y/n just nods along to keep the peace, though she knows that if Lando isn't listening then her promises will only be broken.

-

Padel is easily becoming the second choice of sport among the F1 drivers. Max, Charles, Alex, Carlos, George and Lando all play padel and even have matches.

Y/n doesn't involve herself in any form of sports than means going up against Lando. Purely because seeing the competitive nature in her boyfriend is one of the best things in her life and usually the adrenaline means she has a good time shortly afterwards wherever they can find a private spot. She'd rather be the involved in the part after.

But she does like watching. So she sits watching the match which is between Max and George vs Lando and Alex.

Seeing four drivers play against each other is honestly unusually. They play against each other when they get the chance but having only drivers playing against each other in teams, that's not so common.

During a short break to rehydrate, Lando moves to y/n who is guarding his stuff. He grins moving to her.

"Good luck kiss please?" Lando states after chugging a good half of his bottle of water.

"Yes." Y/n smiles hardly getting a chance to think before he's closed the space and his lips are pressed on hers. His hand moving under her chin to hold her in the kiss for a bit.

"We are all in relationships. No need to rub it in that you're the only one with a girlfriend who was free to be on hand whenever you want a kiss." George calls out making y/n smile and pull away, which in turn earns George the nastiest look he's ever got from Lando in the years of their friendship.

Not that it stops him from turning and stealing another kiss from her, much to her entertainment.

"Alright, thank you." Y/n laughs gently pushing him back.

"Any time." Lando smirks as he does stand up and look at the other boys who are now in a conversation. "I love you."

"I love you too, even if you can't go 0.5 seconds without needing a kiss."

"I'm not sorry for it." Lando shrugs then moving back. "Alright boys, let's get this finished. I'm bored of Alex and I winning all the time."

Obviously too cocky for what the real results of the matches are but it earns some laughs and they all move to get back into the match.

-

A bad qualifying is a burn to the ego and confidence, no kiss mends it but it helped him feel better just to have y/n there and be able to kiss her. A bad race, that's frustrating and while he stopped to get a kiss after the race while he changed to go to media and then before the debrief. Not that he's in any mood to discuss the diabolical weekend he's had.

He'd quite like to get on his flight home and not think about it.

"Kiss. Kiss. Kiss." Lando mumbles as he makes a b-line for y/n and catches her waist as she reaches and cups his face, kissing him several short times before allowing for a much longer and heavier kiss. "I want to go home."

They have a weekend without a race so going back to Monaco is on the agenda and Lando had already made sure the flight was due to take off as soon as they could get out of there. He even cut the debrief shorter than Andrea really wanted because he told them that he needed to leave for his flight.

So they're out of there quickly, with a few goodbyes and making sure their luggage has been sent ahead of them to the airport before they get on the private jet and fly back to Monaco.

Y/n ends up falling asleep cuddled up to Lando since it's not a short flight and he knows she's been trying to adjust to the time zone change with little success.

Lando is drawing shapes on her back, feeling her breath hitting his neck since her face was nuzzled into his neck but she's shifted slightly in her sleep so she's not quite so tightly against him.

Y/n has a history of mumbling in her sleep, especially when she's in a slightly lighter sleep and her subconscious seems unsure if she's awake or not.

"Kiss." Now Lando can't stop his small smile of amusement over hearing her mumble. He asks (and demands) for kisses all the time, but y/n never had to because he initiates it so often that she hasn't got a chance to want them before he's beat her to it. He does get his phone out wanting to capture if she speaks again and as if she sense him wanting to keep the sweet moment on camera forever. "Baby, kiss."

He feels her shift and he moves enough to catch her face scrunching up in upset. She shifts again before her eyes flutter open and he sees the anger behind them flashing before he kisses her and she melts into it as if she woke up purely to get a kiss.

"Sorry, baby. God back to sleep." Lando whispers feeling his mood much improved from just the past few moments.

"Ok. Kiss." She mumbles clearly still half asleep but he kisses her again on her demand before she decides that she got what she wanted and returns to being tightly pressed against him and hiding her face in his neck while he finally stops recording the moment.

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