#losing my goddamn mind at that line actually | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

seattlesellie · 6 months

Note

Reader getting a little embarrassed bc Ellie's strap won't fit?

Sorry of that's too much

perfect fit. ♡

screaming crying losing my mind. what a perf excuse to use “ill make it fit”

She’d be on top of you, forehead lightly pressed onto yours. You feel her pouty, somewhat chapped lips ghosting over your own, then lightly and delicately pecking the corner of your mouth. It’s one of your favorite types of kisses, makes you melt into the mattress, heavenly sigh, tremble within her touch. The warmth of her breath caresses your skin, a gentle zephyr of intimacy, of being so close. She looks at you so fucking intently, concentrated, fixated, scarred brows knit together and god, you love that little serious line that forms in between them.

The best way to describe her gaze, the most accurate one, would be to say that she looks at you as if she’s studying, genuinely attempting to take in every little gasp that you let out, eager to decipher every subtle nuance of your existencet, every single blink of your eyelids.

Ellie lowers her hand down from your cheek to the base of her strap on, caressing it upon your soaking, gushing slit. When you moan as a result of its bulbous tip hitting the hood of your clit, then your clit itself, Ellie smirks like an asshole. "I can just keep going like that if you want me to”, she whispers, meaning she knows she could make your pussy cum from just rubbing her cock all over its folds. You shake your head no, because as much as you know that it’s true, you yearn for her inside of you, for that intimacy of getting fucked deep with something she treats as if was her own. Ellie chuckles. “What do you want then, babe?” she coos lowly, continuously hitting that sweet spot above your clit that makes you whine, and her grunt.

You attempt to grab the back of her neck and bring her closer to you, to push her in somehow, but you’re too overwhelmed by everything, your hand ends up falling on the mattress and landing with a small thud. You whine, “Ellie…”, she smirks, moistening her bottom lip and slightly pushing the tip in, so it hangs juuuust a tiny bit away from being inside of your hole. “Inside?” she murmurs, never failing to add that teasing “yeah?” of a raspy coo.

You eagerly nod, she loves it when you do that — so fucking pliant, she stops you mid nod for a kiss that leaves the two of you breathless, tongues dancing a nasty, wet, sinful rhythm within the realm of your hot mouth. She leaves your lips with a loud smack. Your lips are swollen, a pout that kills, how could she ever concentrate on something else in her life?

She’d be absolutely lying if she said she didn’t have daydreams (and nightdreams) of your tight cunt stretched out by her cock, of seeing that pretty clit poking and peaking from the top of your pussy, of watching and taking in the sight of the stretch, the way it’ll slide up and down so easily because of how wet you get.

Unfortunately, Ellie did not take the tightness of yourself in consideration. She picked and packed a nine incher, deep blue and veiny, a bold choice, a goddamn cocky one.

You grab her sleek bicep and dent her skin with your nails, she hisses. You’re actually soaking, a pretty clear pool of heavenly nectar formed on the bedsheet, inside the seam of your ass. Your tiny whimpers are shaky and breathy and ever so desperate, egging Ellie on. “please…” you beg even under no command to do so. “Want it that bad?” teases Ellie, but with how desperate she has become, it sounds more like a plea, begging to please tell her how bad.

“need it inside, ellie, n-need you inside”

"Mhm", she hums softly, eyelids descending languidly, surrendering to the ecstasy of hearing your voice. “M’gonna fuck you” — god, you love it when she tells it like it is.

Pampering your cheeks with desperate, wet little kisses like raindrops, she pushes the tip in further, but… it won’t go inside. It’s blocked, your narrow hole begins to burn, redden, eyesight going out of focus, everything fading into a hazy abstraction. “Babe, it won’t…” she murmurs and attempts to fuck herself inside again. “Fuck, t'wont go in”

Your heart quickens its rhythm, a pulsating drumbeat beneath your chest, as you instinctively shut your eyes and, with a mix of embarrassment and restraint, gently bite down on your lip. You spread your thighs even further, attempting to somehow give her more space for movement, she pushes in again, you wince. “Owh, Ellie… owh”

You don't quite know if you're more embarrassed, or more pissed off. Your hole pulsates and yearns for a taste of her dick, but it hurts, and this feeling bubbles up inside your chest — This actual fear of disappointment, of not being good enough like her previous partners, of being or feeling too fragile, too inexperienced. You can't help but scan your eyes over her face, looking for a sign that will tell you that you're right, that you have disappointed her or worse, but before you manage to find it —

“Ffffuuuhck” she exasperates breathily. She strokes your cheeks with her thumb, a worried expression on her face. Her eyes dart over your form, muscles of her jaw tightly clenched. "Don't wanna hurt you", She murmurs and her voice is so sweet, "Can jus' use my fingers, yeah?"

“No, please" you sob, "I’m— fuck, i’m too tight!” your voice is a whine, an actual tear leaking from the corner of your eye, chin wobbling. Ellie’s so fucking torn because poor you, and she knows it hurts — she doesn’t want to hurt you, ever — but hearing those words fall from your lips… it’s hard not to buck her hips inwards and make you take it, miss “too tight”

“This is so… m'sorry” you actually sob, sniffling and avoiding her loving gaze, and maybe if you’d look — instead of letting your embarrassment wash over you and be a murky presence in your mind, your tears might have faltered. “S’not gonna fit”, your chest heaves. Ellie wipes a tear away — from your cheek, from the corners of your eyes, she considers comforting you, telling you to never apologize for anything, ever again, but she's sensible and rational and knows what do to next, to actually stop your tears from falling.

“babe?”, she huskily murmurs. You hum back, holding onto another choked sob.

“I’ll make it fit”

“Know I will”

#𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 anon 🎀#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie williams fanfiction #ellie williams x you

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futureman · 6 months

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it's been so long

pairing: mike schmidt x f!reader

summary: you and mike are well aware of your feelings for each other, but it's a line you won't cross. maybe it's time you finally did.

warnings: 18+ MDNI, close friend!reader, sharing a bed, first time together/getting together, fluff, smut, unprotected piv, creampie, nipple sucking, cockwarming, size kink, mentions of painful sex

word count: <1k

"Mike. Come on, you know we can't."

"Well, you won't let me sleep on the couch, and I'm not letting you sleep on the couch, so what else is there?"

"I take the bus home and sleep in my own bed."

"It's 3 o'clock in the morning. That's not happening."

"Then, I'll sleep on the floor in Abby's room."

"That's not happening either."

You're running out of options, and you've already given Mike every excuse in the book why you can't share a bed tonight. You both know exactly what'll happen the moment you climb in, and that can't happen.

But you're exhausted after a hyperactive day of watching Abby and a visit from their mentally taxing aunt, and his flannel sheets look especially inviting. Mike does, too, with his thick biceps and thighs, bare and ready to envelop you when you inevitably give in.

"Fine. But we're sleeping, got it? Just sleeping."

"Of course," he says matter of factly. "C'mere."

You're on your back with his lips crashing onto yours seconds after you make your decision. You knew this would happen, and he apparently hoped it would, because when he nudges you onto your side, he's already hard against your back. All those months of dancing around each other were always going to lead to this.

To his mouth sucking possessive bruises into your neck and collarbones, trailing lower to tease your nipples one at a time. You always thought Mike would be an ass man, but the way he caresses the curve of your tits and drags his tongue across the hardened peaks like he's licking an ice cream cone makes you rethink that.

And he's so good at it. He could probably make you cum like this if he really wanted to, but he clearly doesn't. As long as he's waited for this? You know he wants to fuck it out of you. You've known that since the day you met him—at the mall, both fresh-faced and learning the ins and outs of being security guards together.

The tension was there then, and it's still here now. It's shocking either of you lasted this long.

Which makes it less shocking when his fully-hard cock slips between your thighs and drags steadily across your cunt until you're all but drooling. Slicking himself up, he teasingly notches at your entrance before slipping past to bump your clit.

He's making you so wet, you can hear it. You both can. Muted, wet squelching fills the room from under the covers, and his labored breathing quickly joins it, evolving into soft keening the longer he fucks between your folds.

"Mike...Mike—baby, you have to be quiet. We can't wake Abby up," you tilt your head to murmur into his curls.

Tonight, you learn he likes being called baby. So much so that all you get is a pained groan in warning before he sheaths himself to the hilt.

"S'fucking tight," he mumbles to himself against your shoulder blade as if that's enough to muffle his words. "Knew you'd be tight, goddamn."

And you knew he'd be big. He's thick and hot like molten lava inside you, as searing as his lips against yours as he starts to fuck you in earnest. It hurts like hell, the sweetest, syrupy pain, but if he doesn't fuck you harder soon, you're going to lose your mind. Or maybe you already have, because you actually said that out loud.

"Fuck—okay...okay, baby, I got you," he rasps into your shoulder, more wrecked than you've ever heard him.

You decide you like it when Mike calls you baby, too.

It only takes a few more mind-numbingly hard thrusts before you're gushing around him, making a mess of him and those soft sheets you've been looking forward to. He crushes you against his chest as you cum, one hand splaying across your stomach to feel the muscles contract and relax with every spasm of your lower walls.

Somehow, he feels even bigger now. You're so tight around him, it's making you feel delirious like all of this is just a dream. You had to have dreamed this up, right? Your dream boy in your dream scenario, babbling utter nonsense in your ear as he cums buckets inside you.

"...you...fucking hell. Waited—w-waited so...long. So long," he groans out in a garbled mess. "...forever."

While you struggle to process his words, still wracked with aftershocks, his thrusts get sloppier until he stills, buried as deep as he can go. Now, any hope of coherency is long gone. He pulses violently against your walls as he cums with a series of soft whines, emptying into you and overflowing down your thighs, joining the sticky patch you already left beneath you.

He doesn't pull out. Not even when you're passing out in each other arms, covered in sweat and fluids, and he's lazily running his fingers through the drying cum between your legs.

"Nothing has to change," he mumbles groggily into the nape of your neck. "If you...if—," he sighs, nuzzling into your hair to ground himself. "If you regret it, we can just go back to being friends. We can still be friends, right?"

No. After that, you really can't.

"Everything's changed," you counter softly. But that's a good thing. You feel warm and safe, and full in a way you weren't sure was even possible with Mike. But it's starting to seem like it could be. "Doesn't mean we can't still be friends. We can be more than friends, too...if you want—"

"Yes," he cuts you off, and that full feeling intensifies. "Yeah—yes, more than friends is good. Definitely good."

"Good. Now, go to sleep or you're getting exiled to the couch."

thanks for reading!

(divider by @saradika-graphics)

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt imagine #mike schmidt smut #mike schmidt #fnaf smut #fnaf imagine #fnaf movie #fnaf #five nights at freddy's

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zepskies · 11 days

Text

Wake Me Up - Part 3

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Summary: A few weeks after you and Ben celebrate your first Christmas together, Ben is returning from another mission with the Supe Affairs team. When he discovers that you’ve been taken, he’ll do whatever it takes to find you. And then, to help you heal.

AN: Get ready for some angsty, but fun attempts at memory jogging. 😅

Song Inspo: “I Can Read Your Mind” by the Doobie Brothers.

Word Count: 4.3K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only for some...mature talk lol. Angst and hurt/comfort, fluff, PTSD, protective Ben, tinge of spice~

💚 Wake Me Up Masterlist || Break Me Down Masterlist

Part 3: “When You Hold Me”

Those first few days were the hardest ones.

Marie ran out of paid time off, which meant she had to go back to work. That left you alone with Ben during the day.

He was standing in the middle of the kitchen, arms crossed, and glaring at you after you’d just pushed away the bowl of bland instant oatmeal he’d “made” for you.

“We’re not gonna have this discussion again. You need to fucking eat,” he said. “I could feed you, though I promise you’re not gonna like it.”

His surly, frowning face was annoying you. His deep voice was annoying you. His tall, ridiculous wall-of-man body in your line of vision was annoying you, clothed in the rumpled shirt and sweatpants he’d slept in.

Everything about him annoyed you right now.

But that could also have something to do with the pounding ache in the back of your skull, radiating forward and between your eyes.

“Bro, I’m on like, three kinds of medication,” you replied in weary irritation. “With what appetite do you expect me to eat?”

Bro? His eyebrow twitched. He saw the pain and tiredness written across your face though, and the way you were sitting hunched at the breakfast bar, arms crossed on the counter. He softened a little.

“Look, I get it,” he started to say.

“No, you don’t,” you snapped. Your eyes closed as the pain sharpened. You lifted your hands to either side of your temples. “You don’t know what this feels like.”

You huffed and dropped your hands flat on the counter in frustration. Your eyes opened, and you looked down at the various healing scars littering your arms. You knew there were a few more across your neck and chest, and even your thighs. No matter how you stood, sat, or laid, it was painful to move your body. Even your face still hurt, with the fracture and bruises.

“You’re not the one who looks like Edward Scissorhands had a party,” you said, gesturing at yourself as you glared up at Ben. Emotion began to rise in your throat. “Or for a reference you’ll actually understand, how about this: I’m the Bride of goddamn Frankenstein. A fucking patchwork quilt.”

Ben hardened again, even with the deep pit forming in his stomach.

“That’s enough—”

“And despite what little you, or my mom, Grace, Annie, or even the doctors have told me, I can’t even remember who did this to me or what the hell happened,” you said. Hot tears welled up in your eyes. You wiped at them furiously and turned your face away.

“So no, the indestructible supe doesn’t understand. You literally can’t!” You pushed away from the counter and did your best not to lose your balance when a wave of vertigo hit you.

Ben started toward you, but you held up a hand against him.

“Just leave me the hell alone,” you muttered.

It wasn’t the first time you’d ever said that to him, but somehow, this one cut into him worse than the last.

Over the next several weeks, you did begin to heal from your injuries. Your doctor even noted that you were healing better than she expected. Bruises faded, wounds slowly became scars, some of their stitches removed, and with the right topical medication, a couple of them began to disappear.

The memories remained—at least for Ben. Finding you in that dark, disgusting place, breaking your chains, seeing how thoroughly that piece of shit had worked you over…

It still made him angry at times. He’d broken a couple of mugs, and one near-empty beer bottle. (You’d only caught him once, though he’d given you some bullshit excuse as to why.)

Your memory, on the other hand, still didn’t return.

And you weren’t an easy patient. That episode in the kitchen wasn’t the first, nor was it the last. Often the pain made you crabby and irritable, whenever your medication wore off. The head injury was also causing vast mood swings that Ben could barely keep up with.

It was all he could do to stop himself from snapping back at you at times (and sometimes he failed). He wasn’t exactly Mr. Rogers.

Marie was the only buffer. At least, when she was home. On more than one occasion, she’d had to try and diffuse the tension.

She was working during the day though, which of course, left you with Ben.

You were prone to headaches and dizziness, so he was careful with you, more than he’d ever been. You were starting to notice how he sometimes had to correct himself before he touched you, or forced himself to be deliberately slow when he helped you.

Your mom had also been doting on you, laying out your clothes, brushing your hair, trying her best to cook for the three of you in the evening. Apparently, she’d been taking lessons, though she still couldn’t cook for shit. Ben often suggested takeout, since he was also no “Betty fucking Crocker,” in his own words.

Still, it was a foreign feeling to be taken care of. It often left you unbalanced, even after your vertigo settled, or your headaches eased.

You considered it while you and Ben were channel surfing together from opposite ends of the couch in the living room. Your mom had just given you a blanket to cover your shoulders, before she went off to water your potted plants on the balcony for you. It was a Saturday, so she had the day off work.

You watched her go with a measure of disbelief.

“Look at Mother Theresa go,” you remarked. “You’d think they replaced my mom with one of the Stepford Wives.”

Ben snorted, because he actually knew the movie you were talking about. You’d forced him to watch it with you a few months ago, mostly to tease him.

“She’s never babied me this much in my life,” you said. “Not even when I was still old enough to be babied.”

Instead of commiserating with you, Ben just sighed, shaking his head a little. He glanced away from the History Channel on the screen to shoot you a glance.

“Maybe you should cut your mom some fucking slack,” he said. “She’s doing a hell of a lot for you. Even more than I am.”

You raised a brow at him. While you had a feeling that wasn’t so easy for him to admit, something about his words annoyed you.

“You clearly don’t know her like I do,” you said.

Your childhood had been no picnic. While you didn’t necessarily blame your mom (anymore) for staying with your father when you were a kid, you had never truly been a child. Your self-imposed job had been to protect your sister’s childhood, and sometimes, your mother too.

Ben gave you a more direct look.

“I know plenty,” he said.

And in his eyes, you saw that he did know something. Perhaps too much. You gathered the throw blanket closer around your body and sank further into your side of the couch.

The last thing you wanted to talk about was your messed up childhood, let alone your father. You couldn’t even remember his death, though Marie told you that you had been there. And so had Ben.

You snuck a look at him while his attention had returned to the TV. He’d settled on Ice Road Truckers. You weren’t impressed.

“Ugh. Can we watch something else?” you asked. “Something funny maybe, like How I Met Your Mother?”

Ben shot you a look. “Sounds like a chick show.”

“Not true! It has universal appeal,” you argued. Slowly you raised yourself from your corner of the couch, grimacing just a bit as it disturbed the delicate equilibrium of your still-fractured skull. It was healing, but that, of course, would take the most time. Your headaches would turn into migraines if you weren’t careful.

Ben knew that full well as he watched you move towards him across the couch. He couldn’t help but reach out a hand to steady you by your arm. You gifted him with a smile and grabbed onto him.

“Please?” you implored.

Ben tried to remain unaffected, but that smile of yours was endearing. Plus, it wasn’t often that you willingly reached out to him, touched him.

“I’ll do you one better,” he said, turning off the TV with the remote. You gave him a curious look. He turned to you with a smile.

“Let’s go for a ride.”

Of course this man would have a Benz, you thought. The car was black and sleek with beige interior, and it was both comfortable and decked out with all the modern bells and whistles.

You wondered if he knew what half of these buttons did as you gazed across the dashboard, but the path of your eyes continued until you settled on the man himself. Ben was casually dressed in a burgundy sweater and dark brown slacks, a silver Rolex on his wrist. He had one hand casually on the wheel and the other resting in his lap.

Part of you itched to take his hand, but you decided against it. You could admit, if only to yourself, that you were warming up to him.

Maybe you even liked him.

You knew you didn’t always make it easy, but he had been as patient and gentle as he could be with you, for a man who clearly wasn’t used to being either for anyone.

Despite his gruff exterior, however, you knew he had to care about you to put up with all this. It made you more willing to trust him…and even more curious about him.

“What’s my favorite color?” you asked.

Ben gave you a furrowed look. “What?”

You crossed your arms over your blouse.

“We’ve supposedly been together for a year,” you reasoned. “You should know what my favorite color is.”

He shook his head in disbelief.

“Come on,” you nudged his arm, trying to get him to smile. You succeeded, just a little.

“I don’t know…blue,” he guessed. Your mouth fell open in shock.

“How do you not know my favorite color’s red?” you said. “That’s the most basic thing ever.”

“What are you, five years old? Who fucking cares?” he said, rolling his eyes.

“I do!” you said. “Well, fine, Mr. Grump. When’s my birthday?”

With another shake of his head, he did correctly answer that question, at least.

“What’s my favorite food?” you asked.

“What’s with the goddamn quiz?” he retorted.

“I’m seeing how well you actually know me,” you countered. “Come on. Impress me.”

Ben slowed to a stop at a busy intersection. He’d been trying to jog your memory by passing certain landmarks he thought you might recognize, like the grocery store you two always shopped at, or the park where you liked to go for walks. So far, you seemed disinterested in the sights and more interested in grilling him.

Despite his longsuffering sigh, he had to wrack his brain in order to come up with something for you.

“The Beatles are your favorite band. Specifically the Abbey Road album,” he said.

That didn’t exactly answer your earlier question, but…he wasn’t wrong.

“Okay, you get a point there,” you said.

“And you fucking love Christmas,” he said, somehow with both annoyance and fondness. “Tacky as hell, with the…the ribbons, and the red flowers, and the jingle balls, and whatever the fuck else you can get your hands on. You love that shit. Because when you were a kid, that was the only time of the year your family got any peace.”

You were smiling at his description, but you sobered when he got to that last bit. Ben met your gaze.

“I know that you’ve had three boyfriends before me,” he said. Then, a smirk grew across his face. “But I’m the only one who’s made you come. Every time. Like a goddamn faucet.”

You gaped as your face grew red with a hot blush. “Excuse me—”

“You claim to like getting taken from behind the best. And you do. You’re all too happy to get bent in half for me. Hair pulling, ass-slapping, the whole sticky nine yards,” he continued, with an even fonder gleam of memory in his eyes. His hands caressed the leather wheel of his car, long fingers flexing.

“But you actually like it better when you can see my face, watch me work. I don’t blame you,” he added, smiling. “I mean, if there was an Oscar for laying it the fuck down, I would’ve taken that shit year after year. Would’ve beat out Bert Reynolds by a fucking landslide.”

You thought you were about to combust, whether from indignation, or straight up embarrassment, you didn’t know. (And you were going to ignore the little tremble of heat between your legs.)

But just as you were about to blow your top, figuratively speaking, Ben’s expression became more serious when his gaze returned to you.

“I know that you’ve had to take care of yourself. And that you’ve been alone all your life,” he said. Then a slight pause, before his attention went back to the road. “That’s something you and I have in common.”

The light turned green. Your anger and embarrassment settled, somewhat, into contemplation. You didn’t know what to make of this man.

He was infuriating, with all kinds of audacity. He was crass, and at times, he grated on your very last nerve.

But somehow, he knew you. He seemed to know the parts of you that you didn’t even want to know.

Sensing your angry gaze on the side of his face, he turned to you with a devil-may-care grin.

“You hungry?” he asked.

“Ben, I’m not dressed for this,” you said, leaning in close to whisper to him.

He’d taken you to a nice steakhouse for dinner, on the even more affluent side of town. You still couldn’t believe you’d moved out of New York City to Scarsdale, of all places.

Ben wrapped an arm around your waist and guided you closer, enough for you to feel his body heat.

“You’re just right,” he looked down on you with a teasing wink. It made you blush, despite yourself, with a small smile.

You went with him to a secluded booth in the back, by his request with the hostess. They seemed to know him, so maybe he was a regular. Or more likely, both of you were regulars. This place was only vaguely familiar, but when you saw the menu, you knew you were going to get the salmon.

Ben snorted when you said so.

“Yeah, that’s what you always get,” he said.

He smiled though—at the fact that this little outing was helping you make progress after all.

He didn’t need the menu either. He always ordered the dry-aged porterhouse steak. You couldn’t drink on the medication you were on, but he ordered a glass of bourbon for himself.

When the meal eventually came out, you glanced at his enormous plate with wide eyes. That had to be the biggest damn steak you’d ever seen, along with a huge loaded baked potato and a side of broccoli. You doubted the greens would do all that much for him, nutrition-wise.

“Whoa. Did they cut up a stegosaurus back there?” you quipped.

Ben chuckled. He’d actually missed your sense of humor, no matter how dumb it was sometimes. He unwrapped the steak knife they gave him from his napkin and started to carve a big piece.

You raised your brows, but shifted your attention to your fish and mashed potatoes. It was delicious. Like melt-in-your-mouth good, and you weren’t sure fish was supposed to be “melty.” No wonder you two liked coming here.

But then, your thoughts were entirely derailed.

Hearing the sound of his knife hitting the plate, carving into the meat—it struck a discordant note in your mind. You looked over, and the sharp, silvery gleam of it caused a vision to flash across your eyes…

Of a blade sliding against your skin, over and over. Along with questions. The same questions being asked of you, over and over.

You can’t. You can’t. You can’t.

“Tell me!” a man demanded. “Give me something.”

He grabbed your face, squeezed your neck until you choked on blood and spit.

“Hey!” a more familiar voice cut through it all. “Come on, sweetheart. Answer me.”

You blinked and caught yourself mid-gasp, staring into the deep green of Ben’s eyes.

Your head was resting on his shoulder, his hand pressed to the side of your cheek, which stung slightly, as if he’d had to try and wake you. His arm was wrapped around your waist in the booth.

He was gentle in sliding your hair away from your face, but his own was hard and almost angry, as his brows were knitted together. His gaze then traveled across the room, and you realized that there were other people in the restaurant now watching you and Ben. Even the servers stopped what they were doing at the sound of his shout.

He gave them all a pointed glare.

“What? Nothing to fucking see here,” he snapped. Most of them were wise enough to turn away, back to their meals and conversation. Ben focused on you as you caught your breath. You were finally able to support yourself, though you stayed leaning on his shoulder. He wasn’t about to let you go either, until he got some answers.

“What the hell happened?” he asked. You frowned at his gruff tone, until you met his eyes. Somehow, you could see that there was worry there.

You glanced down, and you closed your eyes when you saw it. You pressed your face into his arm to steady yourself.

“The uh…the knife,” you whispered. “It made me see something…remember something.”

“What did you remember?” he asked quickly. You sucked in a shuddering breath, squeezing your eyes shut tighter.

“Nothing good,” you whispered.

You felt him pause. You heard the shuffle of silverware, a thump on the table. Then his hand came up and cupped your cheek.

“It’s okay. I put it away,” he said.

Tears burned behind your eyelids, and you buried your face harder against his chest. At this point, it wasn’t just about seeing the knife. It was knowing that whatever had happened to you, it had truly been hell. Unlike anything you’d ever been through before.

“You want to go home?” came Ben’s voice, deep and steady in your ear.

You sniffed and nodded, as your tears seeped into the fabric of his sweater. He rubbed your back, holding you more securely.

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s go.”

Unfortunately, the episode at the restaurant led you to a migraine. Ben carried you to the master bedroom and laid you down, helped you undress down to your underwear, and gave you a shirt you liked to sleep in. He turned all the lights off and made sure the curtains were closed tight.

Marie brought you your pain medication with a glass of water. Ben hoped there was enough in your stomach that the pills wouldn’t make you nauseous as well, like they occasionally did.

After you took the meds, you curled up on the bed and closed your eyes tightly, trying not to whimper like a child. You’d dealt with pain before; that was nothing new. But this was getting ridiculous.

Ben gave Marie a certain look. “I’ve got it from here.”

She gazed at you with sympathetic tears in her eyes, but she nodded and touched his arm.

“If you need anything, just call for me,” she whispered.

Ben nodded, but he closed the door behind her and began by taking off his watch, then his shoes, pants, and sweater. He changed into a pair of sweatpants and a loose shirt.

You were too busy hugging your pillow and pressing your face into it. You didn’t realize he was still with you until the bed dipped behind you.

Ben turned you around and gathered you into his arms. You inhaled sharply, but then you clung to him. His chest and middle were warm, a bit unnaturally so.

“You’re hot,” you muttered, splaying a hand against his chest. “Like a radiator.”

Ben quirked a smile. “Yeah, you tend to complain about that.”

You shook your head and pressed yourself closer to him. “Not today.”

He wiped the tears from your cheek and laid a kiss on your forehead. He held you that way for a while, just silence and the sound of your breathing covering the room. Eventually, the pain medication began to kick in, helping to ease your pounding skull.

You pulled back enough to see Ben’s face. He was still awake, but he opened his eyes and met yours in the dim light. You reached up and touched his bearded cheek, hesitantly.

“Why can’t I remember?” you asked, in a broken voice.

Ben’s brows furrowed. He curled his hand around yours and let out a breath.

“I don’t know,” he said, but all he wanted was for this to be over.

“I could take this from you,” he said. “What’s the big fucking deal about a blood transfusion?”

Your fingers stilled against his cheek. Your tearful eyes averted from his, but you weren’t as opposed to the idea as you were before.

“The last time, it healed me?” you asked.

“Within the hour,” he said. His hand tightened a fraction on yours. “It’ll be like it never happened. And your memories could even come back.”

You sighed, briefly closing your eyes. Your hand fell from his cheek, but you nodded.

“Okay. I’ll think about it,” you said.

Ben’s frown remained, but at least it was a step in the right direction. He took your chin and slowly tilted your face up to his. You stared up at him with shining eyes. He didn’t like the pain he still saw there, but he did like the way you glanced down at his lips.

He took a chance, and he leaned down to meet you with a kiss. What first was a gentle touch, soon became heady as your hand slid up his arm and into his hair. He brought you flush against him and deepened the kiss, when his tongue swept past your lips and brushed against yours. You welcomed him in with a surprised moan.

He hadn’t tasted you in so damn long, it was like indulging a craving he’d been denying himself. It was even harder to slow down and ease away from your lips.

You rested your forehead against his chest afterward.

“Wow,” you breathed. “Okay.”

Ben chuckled. But unlike the movies, a kiss didn’t break the spell. You were his, but not completely.

He wanted nothing more than to show you how much you could be…but your body was still weak. He would have to continue protecting you, even from himself.

“I want to stay here tonight,” he said.

Despite his earlier thoughts, he didn’t think he could take one more night of not being with you in this bed. He could control himself. He just wanted to make sure you were all right, and safe with him.

It took you a moment to decide, but you nodded.

“You can stay,” you agreed, with a more teasing smile. “I don’t think your old man back can handle the couch anymore.”

He snorted in amusement. There was some more of your sense of humor peeking through.

Meanwhile, you still weren’t totally convinced that him sleeping in the bed with you was a good idea. A good part of you craved his nearness, and how he made you feel safe…but you also weren’t sure if you were ready to continue being so vulnerable with him.

Just when you were about to put some distance here between you and tell him to stay on his side, Ben rolled you back around so that your back was pressed to his chest. He slid a warm, strong arm around your waist. His lips pressed to your bare shoulder. The sleep shirt you wore (one of his old shirts) had ridden down your arm.

“Just relax,” he said. “I’ve got you.”

And you actually believed it.

You felt comfortable and secure in his embrace. Soon enough, you relaxed into him.

Sleep wasn’t easy, but you got there in time. It even lasted for a while.

Just not long enough.

In your dreams, there were flashes of things that didn’t make sense. They were jumbled together like white noise on a TV, occasionally screeching with color, and mostly red with blood.

You woke up shaking and sweating.

Ben was a light sleeper at best. He was startled awake in confusion, disturbed by how you had been tossing and turning and making sounds of distress. He turned toward you and moved his arm to make room for you, but he decided he would let you come to him this time.

You didn’t disappoint him. You reached for him and buried your face in the crook of his neck for a while, trying to ground yourself in him. He held you and rubbed your back until you calmed down.

When you pulled away slightly, and spoke his name in the dark, Ben looked into your eyes. For a moment, he could’ve sworn you were there. The real you.

“Thanks for staying with me,” you whispered.

Ben was disappointed. This wasn’t you remembering. But at least, this was you being you, thanking a man like him.

He just nodded and guided you back into his arms. You let him hold you for the rest of the night.

AN: So close, but yet so far. 🥲

But just wait for the last part...

Next Time:

You brushed your fingers over that picture in wonder. You didn’t remember that day, even though you were sure you must have been there…

It was so odd to see so much of your life in pictures, yet it was all still so fuzzy, or entirely blank in your mind.

You paused, blushing once again when you saw the picture of you getting out of the shower with the towel barely wrapped around your body. Why the hell would this be in a photo album?

You quickly moved on. Though you stopped next at a picture of you and Ben in what looked like a dark nightclub. The way he was holding you, looking at you like he was ready to devour you, and the way you were looking up at him, with a smile that said he’d better damn well try…

It made a sharp pain lance behind your eyes.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 4 (Finale!)

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stabortega · 7 months

Text

NO SURPRISES — CHAPTER 03

Summary: Jenna's need to find out who you really are is prevailing, so is her arousal.

Pairings: Jenna Ortega x G!P!Fem!Reader

Warnings: NSFW. Implied fem reader, she/her pronouns used. Smut. Mentions of sex and kinks. Sexting, masturbation, voyeurism. Top!Reader x Bottom!Jenna. MDNI.

Author's note: Sorry to keep you guys waiting. I hope it was worth it, huh? Let me know what you think!

MASTERLIST!

(Y/N)xz: hey

(Y/N)xz: i'm so glad you decided to take up my offer

jenna2709: really?

(Y/N)xz: yeah

(Y/N)xz: i honestly thought you wouldn't say yes

jenna2709: i had to.

jenna2709: getting a private livestream from you isn't something you can get everyday.

(Y/N)xz: i can see you're very excited for that

jenna2709: i am.

jenna2709: what about you?

(Y/N)xz: counting the days

(Y/N)xz: wanted to see your face for quite sometime now

jenna2709: you've at least imagined what i look like by now, right?

(Y/N)xz: a little

(Y/N)xz: also the fact that i can only think about my coworker's face when i think of you it's a little bit strange

jenna2709: oh, why is that?

(Y/N)xz: it's because you guys have the same name

(Y/N)xz: which is weird because i see her everyday and we never even really talked

(Y/N)xz: maybe it's because she is the only jenna i know

(Y/N)xz: was*

(Y/N)xz: now i know you :)

jenna2709: i hope she's pretty enough for you.

jenna2709: i want you to imagine me as some pretty girl.

(Y/N)xz: she's gorgeous

(Y/N)xz: bet you're more, though

jenna2709: guess you'll find out soon enough.

"Okay, now you're being straight up mean." Jasmine said while eating a piece of her spring salad, while looking at her friend. "You said you're showing her your face and now you're suddenly giving up?"

"I'm not giving up, Jasmine. It's just, I don't know why I agreed." Jenna sighed, while trying to distract herself reading a couple of lines from her script. "And now she's gonna know who I am and she's gonna be so embarrassed. Fuck, it's gonna be so freaking awkward. I'm working with her every single day."

"How are you so sure they are the same person? Just because of a scar? Millions of people have scars." Jasmine said, which made Jenna wonder for a while: What if she was, in fact, losing her goddamn mind and they weren't the same person?

"No, I just remembered. They have the same voice, as well. I'm 99% sure." The younger actress would never admit it, but she was so afraid of that 1%. "And also, she has a few tattoos. If only I could at least see if she has those tattoos. But she's always wearing long sleeves, fuck. I'm definitely not gonna do that video call and that's final."

"You're being a chicken and you know it. What's the worse that can happen? If anything, you'll end up sucking her dick right on that nasty green couch in the break room." Jasmine felt a slap right on her left arm. "Hey! It's not like you're not gonna enjoy it! You seem like one of those kinky ass chicks who no one thinks that are actually kinky."

"Oh please, you should've seen her kink list from her profile." Jenna immediately regretted saying that. Mental note: Think about everything you're gonna say to Jasmine.

"Wait, what?!"

"Breeding, breath play, knife play- Oh fuck, she's crazy. Run. Run for your life! Run for the hills!" They laughed, while Jenna tried her best to hide her embarrassment. "Holy shit, she's that kinky. How the fuck do they have that?"

"When you sign up, you have to fill out your kink list. I thought you also had an account, dingus."

"I do, dingus, but the kink list is not mandatory." Jasmine stopped for awhile, until she thought for one second. "God, you filled yours?!"

"Give me my phone now." Jenna said, trying to look angry while Jasmine got up from the chair and started to run away with the latina's phone in her hand, trying to search the list on Jenna's profile.

"I have the power in my hands!" Jasmine and Jenna didn't knew how, but they ran until the parking lot, looking like two little sisters having an argument over a toy. "Girl, you're into that?" The black girl said, while laughing, which made Jenna angrier.

Before the younger one could even respond to that, she felt a body crash against hers, making her almost fall over to the floor, but thankfully her body was held in time to prevent that from happening. "Hey, are you alright?"

Fuck, it was you.

"Yeah, I'm sorry... Jasmine- She had- " Jenna tried to speak but ended up mumbling all of the words. The way your strong arms held her, your woody perfume which she swore it was the best scent she has ever smelled in her life, your face looking at her as if you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

"Don't worry about that, just try to be careful next time, okay?" You almost were talking down to her, as if she was a little kid, which was something that would immediately make Jenna hate you. Since she started working as a child, having people treat her as one made her blood boil. But no, not this time. "I was actually looking for you."

"Really?" Jenna said, after recomposing herself, her worries about her phone were long gone. Jasmine could see her nude pics, for all she cared. All she could think about was the fact that you were looking for her.

"Yeah, I kinda needed to adjust some of the camera's settings before we start shooting." Oh, okay. At least she thought about me first, she considered. "You know, saturation, contrast and stuff. Need to do with the whole cast, actually." She knew what it was, she had to do that at least, a hundred times over the course of her career. But god, you looked so cute while explaining it.

"Yeah, yeah, we can do that. I just need to get my phone and I'll be there." Jenna said, trying to seem as casual as possible, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear for god knows whatever reason.

"Alright, I'll be at stage 5. And try to not run like that again, okay? You could really get hurt." You smiled sympathetically to her, it wasn't visible to you but Jenna's heart was fluttering as if she was a teenage girl who just spoke to the most popular boy at school.

"Yeah, sure... I'll be careful, totally." She smiled back, before watching you leave, her legs almost giving up on her before hearing Jasmine's voice behind her, driving her out of her thoughts.

"Oh, (Y/N), I'll be careful, I swear! I'll promise I will never ever fall again, unless you're here to hold me in your arms, oh god!" Jenna rolled her eyes, jokingly, while snatching her phone away from Jasmine's hands. "I mean it, either she's the most oblivious person on the planet or you just straight up told her you want her P in your V with your body language."

"It wasn't that obvious, Jasmine. You're being too much."

"Girl, the tension was almost palpable. Please hope that she's stupid enough to let this pass. What were you guys talking about, anyways?"

"She wants to adjust some of the camera's colour settings and needs me to be there. And also the entire cast, as well. But she asked me first, that must be something right?"

"Literally nothing, Jenna." The latina rolled her eyes, ignoring her friend. "But still, you can use that opportunity to figure out if she's really the chick from the website. Try to find out if she has those tattoos you saw on the livestream."

"Thankfully you had a good idea, for once."

"And if she's really her, you can suck on her balls without feeling guilty."

"You're not helping." Jenna sighed, running her hands through her hair. "I'm gonna kill myself tonight."

"For a girl with a pussy like yours, that would be a waste."

"You'd seen my pictures?!" Jenna looked at her friend furiously, wide-eyed.

"Oh my god I was joking, do you really have pussy pics?!"

"I hate you!" She almost screamed before leaving a laughing Jasmine behind. Jenna was nervous, of course. You guys started filming this week, and throughout the entire period you guys were there, she tried her best to avoid you due to the fact that she was, actually, a chicken. You guys didn't even spoke much, that only one occasion a couple of moments ago being the first real conversation you guys had. Just, being around you made her nervous. And it wasn't even because of the streams she's been watching. It's just, you're you. Your body language, your voice, the way you act around set, you seem so freaking professional and Jenna was a sucker for that. The way you dressed, the way you took care of everyone who worked with you. She has been with her eye on you every day ever since she met you, and she's been watching you very closely. Everything about you drove Jenna insane, and surprisingly, she liked that.

After a couple of minutes walking through set, with her hands sweating and lots of heavy breathing, she finally made it into stage 5. You were there with a couple of people from production; some of them working on their own stuff, and a couple of guys talking about you while you held one of the cameras that would be used through filming. You were laughing a bit, something that made Jenna's heart flutter. Damn it.

"Yeah, and he was the kind of guy who wouldn't - Oh, hey Jenna! Talk to you guys later, okay?" You politely dismissed the guys you were talking to as soon as you saw Jenna enter your field of vision. Fuck, why did you have to be so well mannered? "Are you ready to look at me for a couple of hours?"

"I'm- I-" Jenna stuttered, making you laugh a little bit. She was being kinda cute, you thought.

"Relax, I'm joking. It'll be only a couple of minutes. I promise you don't have to get stuck with me for more than that." But I would definitely like to, Jenna thought to herself. "Can you stand on that mark for me, please?" Oh, she would do anything for you if you asked her like that again. So she stood on that mark, five feet away from you, while you put the camera on the tripod, already connected to the monitors and software responsible for editing. Jenna looked straight at the lenses, but thankfully she got to look at you while you set things up, and oh god you were a sight for sore eyes.

"Okay, can you look at the little red dot for me, please?" She almost hated you for being so polite, and obviously did what you asked. You would never admit that in front of anyone, but Jenna was truly one of the most beautiful women you'd ever seen. Looking at her through the lenses was definitely the best part of this job.

"So, you've been working with this for a while?" Jenna said, wanting to start some small talk in order to find out more about you (and your tattoos, obviously).

"Um, not really. I finished college a couple of months ago, this is my first real job as a videographer. Dave was nice enough to put me under his wing and be my mentor, actually." You said while pressing some buttons on the camera and typing on the keyboard under the monitors. "I've worked in movie sets while in college, but mostly I just held microphones and cleaned camera lenses."

"For someone who already graduated, you seem really young. How old are you?" Jenna couldn't remember if your profile said you were twenty-three or twenty-four.

"Oh, thanks. You don't look so bad yourself, either." Jenna really hoped you were flirting with her (deep down, she kinda knew you weren't). "I'm twenty-four, actually."

"Really? You look really young." Jenna smiled slightly, secretly looking at you while you were pressing more buttons which she wouldn't even bother knowing what they did. "I get that a lot, too. I'm only twenty-one, but people think I'm seventeen most of the times."

"That must be annoying, huh?" You looked at her face through the lenses again, the adjusted lighting making her look more beautiful that she already was, if that's possible.

"Oh, you have no idea. I'm almost getting a tattoo on my forehead that says 'No longer a minor'." You both laughed for a moment. "Do you have any?"

"Tattoos? Yeah, just a couple." Fuck, she was close. She just needed to see one of them.

"Do they hurt a lot? I wanted to get one but I'm kinda scared." She wasn't.

"Yeah, a little. Nothing you can't handle." You stopped doing what you were doing to come a bit closer, which made the latina hold her breath for a second. "This one was the worst, definitely."

You lift up the hem of your shirt just a little, but enough for Jenna to see your slightly muscular v-line. Oh fuck, she felt like passing out. Until you showed her your tattoo, it was a roman number that Jenna couldn't even bother to figure out what it meant, but one thing was for sure: it was the same tattoo she had seen on the streams.

"That's cute..." She tried her best not to sound suspicious. You smiled and started to get back behind the camera.

"That one hurt like a bitch, I swear." You laughed a bit, before pressing the final buttons on the camera. "I think we're done! Can I take a video of you to see if the settings worked out?" Jenna only could nod, the thought of having you abdomen close to her mouth and not being able to lick it was the most traumatic experience of her life. "Okay, can you smile for me?"

And like the whipped bitch she was, she happily did. You shot the video for a couple of seconds and saved it, looking at it for a bit before gazing at the girl again. "Okay, that's pretty much it. Thank you for coming here, yeah?"

"Sure, no problem." She was almost shaking, she hated the fact you were such a sweetheart while at work, and at the website you acted like the lesbian version of Magic Mike. So, she left. Regretting the fact she didn't even made her move because being around you was intimidating enough to keep her from breathing properly, but at least she did what she was there to do: she knew, for sure, that you were the person she thought you were. And now, she had another issue to deal with.

Thankfully, you guys scheduled the video chat for tomorrow. Jenna knew that today she wasn't ready to reveal her face to the person who's been occupying her thoughts for the past few days. So, she did what she's been religiously doing for the past week. Locked her hotel room door, put her headphones on and relaxed while watching your stream. Only god knows how much she missed watching you stroke your cock while moaning softly and talking the filthiest shit ever. Jenna turned on her laptop and went on the website, which by now was marked as her favorite, and as usual, you were already there.

This time around, Jenna just wanted to enjoy watching you. No games or teasing, she genuinely wanted to look at you while you pleased yourself in front of her.

"Hey guys, how are y'all doing? Hope y'all are doing great." Even now, you were the most polite person ever. Fuck, she hated that. And you. She hated you. Definitely despised you.

You interacted with the chat for a couple of minutes, before really starting to put on your show. Obviously you knew "jenna2709" was watching, and now, even though you would never admit it, you liked putting your show to her, and only her. So now, you were dedicated to deliver the best show you could ever do. "I'm gonna try something different today, if you guys don't mind. But I'm sure you guys are gonna love it as much as I am."

Your hardened cock was already starting to pulse in your pants, so you were quick enough to unbutton your jeans and let your member spring free. Jenna's mouth watered at the sight of your throbbing cock, making her wish she could lick all of your pre-cum off of your tip.

For all these days Jenna's been watching you, she has never touched herself while you were streaming. Mainly because she was scared that once she did, she wouldn't be able to look at your face again out of embarrassment. But it seemed that every stream that she's watched, it got harder and harder to maintain her posture.

Jenna looked at you while you slowly stroked your dick, which started to made her anxious. She knew you had to tease in order to keep your viewers watching (which is why Jenna was the one emptying her bank account to you so you could cum faster). That same odd feeling on the pit of her stomach started to become more and more present, and she hated the fact the she couldn't just cave in and thrust two fingers inside of her aching cunt. You drove her out of her thoughts when you grabbed something from behind your camera, which made Jenna curious to what it was, exactly. And then she realized it was a tiny silicone ass toy, with an small opening right at the vagina. Oh, fuck.

"Do you guys ever think about someone while jacking off or is it just me?" You asked your viewers while putting a litte bit of lube on the toy. You would never admit this on camera, but you obviously were talking about Jenna. Not Jenna, your coworker, of course. But there was something about Jenna, your viewer, that made you intrigued: you didn't even knew what she look like, but all of the conversations you had in this past week made you wonder who was she, and what she was doing watch you religiously every night? What was it about you that made her so committed? The was she spoke to you in your chat, the way she tipped you just so you could cum for her, and her only. It's safe to say that, even without knowing what her face looked like (and trying your best not to think about Jenna, your coworker, because they shared the same name, of course), you started to think about her in those extremely intimate moments.

"So you got someone on your mind now, huh?" One of the viewers asked in the chat, which made Jenna anxious for the answer. If you were thinking about someone else, she would definitely want to know who it was.

"Yes and no. Maybe if I knew how she looked like, exactly, then she would 100% be occupying my head." You laughed a bit. Thank god your viewers couldn't see your face, because it was flushed red from embarrassment. You shrugged it off and started to tease the tip of your cock right onto the toy's pussy, wanting to get your viewers more excited. Which, of course, worked every single time.

Wow! "jenna2709" donated $300 with the message: you know i hate it when you tease.

"I know you do, baby. That's why it's so fun." You laughed again, holding your cock by the base while still rubbing your tip onto the toy. Little did Jenna knew, but deep down, you were teasing just to get her attention.

jenna2709: what's the fun of being an annoying tease, huh?

"Being able to frustrate you." Jenna sighed. Oh, you were a demon. How could someone that was so polite and well mannered at work, behaved like this when the night came? "Come on, we both know that you enjoy this."

jenna2709: more than i care to admit.

"Alright, I'll stop being mean, okay? Let me give you what you've been waiting for, baby." You slowly penetrated your dick into the toy, which immediately made you drag out a raspy and low moan. The tightness of the toy was beginning to drive you insane, and for a brief second you wished you had Jenna's pussy around your cock, instead of a fake silicone one.

"Fuck." Jenna whispered to herself, feeling her underwear getting ruined for the fifth time this week. She felt her clit throb and pulse, it was incredible that you didn't even had to do anything huge to get Jenna turned on, just by breathing you aroused the shit out of her. "No. Pull yourself together."

jenna2709: i would kill someone to be in this toy's place.

"And I would kill someone to have you right here, right now." You started to slowly thrust your member inside of the tight, yet slightly slippery toy, your moaning now becoming louder and louder. Thankfully the hotel doors weren't thin enough, so you could be considerably loud without worrying about other people in the floor. Unbeknownst to you, "jenna2709" was just down the hallway watching you, in the verge of tears trying her best not to succumb to her primal desires and touch herself. "Fuck, this feels so good..."

jenna2709: you're making it impossible for me to not touch myself.

"Why don't you, baby? Maybe we get to cum together this time around, huh?" That seemed like an irresistible offer that Jenna really, really wanted to accept and decline, at the same time. For some reason, you figured that she was depriving herself of something good and a part of you wanted to just leave it that way, maybe she had her own reasons to just stand still while watching your streams. But another part of you really wanted to have some fun with this. So, like the devil you and Jenna knew you were, you licked your thumb and started to make circular motions over the toy's clit, while thrusting your cock steadily inside of it. "Don't you wish I was doing that to you?"

"Oh my fucking god." Jenna couldn't hold it in anymore. She tried, god, she really tried. But it was too much, even for her. Without thinking about the day after, she pulled down her pants alongside with her underwear and finally decided to give her pussy some attention. She was dripping wet, not ironically wetting her sheets in the process, but she wasn't even paying attention to those details. The only thing she cared enough to do was to thrust one finger inside her throbbing, aching cunt. Which, of course, she did. And the immediate feeling of relief took over her entire body the minute she felt her finger inside of her. Jenna felt dirty, as she was the pastor's daughter in a small town who just met an outlaw that tricked her into all those things. But damn, it felt good to be dirty and tricked. She started to thrust slowly, giving the fact she didn't masturbated often and she was just getting used to the feeling of her own finger inside her tight pussy. But, for some reason and for the first time, it wasn't enough. She needed more, and she wanted more. Fuck, she just wanted you.

"God, this is so fucking tight..." You moaned, more to yourself than to your stream, which drove Jenna out of her thoughts. She looked at you, fucking that toy while sweat was dripping off your body, and your low moaning was captured through your microphone. You were the hottest person she has ever met in her entire life.

jenna2709: you were right, maybe this time around we do get to cum together.

Jenna typed, without feeling anxious or nervous like the previous times. She couldn't give a rat's ass anymore. She already touched herself, she gave you money for every little thing you did on stream, so why even bother? It felt good. Fuck, it felt so good and she didn't even knew why she deprived herself from that for so long. So, without thinking about it, she added a second finger inside of her, hoping it would fulfill her needs just as you would.

"Maybe next time, I get to cum in you." You were bold for saying that. But in your head, after your guys' private stream, you were both gonna fall madly in love and have a relationship that seemed right out of a movie screen. The last thing you would think about is the fact that the girl you've been thinking about for fhe past few days is, in fact, one of the actresses of a movie you're helping to produce. And one of the world's most famous and extraordinary actresses, actually. "And we both know how much you would enjoy that."

At that point, Jenna was the only one there, for all you cared. I mean, you had almost 2k people who watched you every single day, but sometimes it felt like you and her were the only ones existing in the world. I mean, your chat didn't seemed to mind, most of them were just voyeurs who got off by watching random people online, so what's the harm?

Unbeknownst to Jenna, you were already close to your orgasm. The tightness of the toy and all of the dirty talking you both have been sharing, it was getting pretty hard to hold it in any longer. So, without further notice, you decided to violently thrust your throbbing member inside of that silicone pussy, wanting to get to your high as quickly as possible. You slapped the toy's ass a couple of times, but you knew that if that was a real person (Jenna, you wanted it to be Jenna), you would be saying the most filthy things on her ear while slapping her ass until it became bruised. It killed you not being able to do that. And it killed Jenna too.

jenna2709: fuck, you look so beautiful like this.

And she wasn't any different either. Her hand was soaked by now and the two fingers weren't even close to being enough for her, but for now, they would have to do. With her spare hand, Jenna cupped one of her breasts in order to get closer and closer to her high, while her hand just aggressively thrusted inside of her tight hole. "F-Fuck, I'm almost..."

And you were almost there too, but this time, you wanted to make sure to give Jenna the best experience she could ever get. "Tell me, where do want me to cum?" You asked the whole chat, but in a way, you only wanted to hear Jenna's answer. The chat filled itself with loads of messages, some people wanting for you to come inside, other wanting for you to cum on your stomach.

jenna2709: inside of my pussy, please.

"Your wish is my command." And so you did, you came right into that toy's cunt with a loud and dragged moan, closing your eyes and thinking about how it would feel if you actually came inside of Jenna. You felt your hips spasm into the toy, while you rode out your high and tried your best not to moan any louder than you already did. Little did you know that, down the hallway, Jenna was also having her orgasm just by looking at you. She closed her eyes and thursted the hardest she could until she finally came, with a soft whimper of your name, feeling her juices oozing out of her cunt. She felt one or two tears stream down her face from that overwhelming feeling, riding out her high while looking at you, wishing you were there beside her. You pulled your cock out of that toy, your thick cum dripping down to the floor which made Jenna's mouth water again. She would commit crimes just to be able to lick your cum out of that toy.

And now, Jenna felt embarrassed again. Tomorrow at work, she would have to look at your face and act normally all over again, trying to hide the fact that you were the reason she had a mind blowing orgasm and cried while moaning your name. And also, she would have to think of a way to dodge your private stream, or face her fears and reveal her identity, risking to ruin your work environment for all of the next months that you guys would work together. Either way, she didn't wanted to do any of those two things.

Wow! "jenna2709" donated $1000 with the message: consider this as a thank you.

#scream #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #scream movies #jenna ortega smut #jenna ortega x you #you #the fallout #wednesday #wlw post #wlw love #wlw #wlw nsft #wlw ns/fw

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loveinhawkins · 11 months

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Once they’re far enough away from Angry Hicks Land, Erica rifles through the supplies before finding the bag she’s looking for. She throws it at Eddie, only for him to immediately fumble the catch.

“Wow,” she says. “You’d be immediately kicked off the basketball team.”

“Uh, my talents don’t exactly lie on the basketball court,” Eddie says—his tone is dry but his face is slightly flushed in embarrassment.

“Huh,” Erica says. “Guess Lucas is multi-talented.”

Steve chuckles in approval from the driver’s seat—hopefully not too loudly; yeah, she’d defend her brother to the hilt, but she doesn’t want to get too ridiculous and actually have him overhear her.

Thankfully he seems in a world of his own, sat with Max and Dustin at the back of the RV. His eyes keep flickering over Max and her Walkman headphones.

He’s frowning. He’s been doing that a lot—Erica’s sure he’s had a permanent crease in the middle of his forehead since the year began, probably before then, too.

She wants to iron it out. Doesn’t quite know how to.

The bag rustles as Eddie opens it up. “Um. What’s in—?”

“Essentials,” Erica says.

Eddie blinks. “Sinclair, this is a belt.”

“Your jeans are very sad,” Erica tells him pityingly.

Steve cackles. Eddie’s blush deepens, and he jabs the back of the driver’s seat with his elbow.

“You having fun over there, Harrington?”

“Oh, tons,” Steve says.

Erica laughs. Eddie sticks his tongue out at her.

Once they’re parked outside, she half-loses track of him while correcting Lucas’s abysmal attempt at spear-making. He’s there in the corner of her eye, rough-housing with Dustin, but her thoughts turn vague and distant as she double knots the rope.

A little while later, she’s lying on her back, stretched out in the grass. She can faintly hear Lucas and Max having an arm wrestling match, Dustin providing old-timey sports commentary.

A shadow falls over her.

Erica sits up.

Eddie’s standing there with his hands on his hips. He’s wearing the bullet belt, the metal glinting in the sun.

“Whaddya think?” he says.

Before she can reply, he actually does a full-blown twirl, and it’s maybe one of the most embarrassing things she’s ever seen—which is definitely saying something.

She can’t help the fond smile from breaking out as she rolls her eyes. “Well, at least you’re dressed for the part.”

“Coming from you, Lady Applejack, that’s the highest of compliments.”

Eddie flops down next to her. He leans across and picks up something: her spear. She’d actually forgotten about it, just for a moment.

“Not quite a kukri, huh?”

It’s meant to be a joke, Erica can tell—but she can still hear the tension in his voice. He tosses the spear aside.

A sinking feeling she’s been pushing back makes itself known again; she wishes this was all just a game.

Eddie’s eyes are unfocused, like he’s thinking something similar.

Erica nudges him. “What’s up?”

He shrugs. “Just thinkin’, Sinclair.”

“Hmm. Seems rare for you.”

Eddie snorts. “Shut up. S’just…” He sobers. “Had this whole… plan. I forgot.”

“About?”

A smile. “You. You were gonna, uh. Be it. If you wanted.”

Erica raises an eyebrow.

“Um. The, uh… the leader of Hellfire.”

Eddie’s fingers drum nervously on his knees. Erica takes pity on him.

“You do know I’m eleven, right?”

“Trust me, I’m painfully aware,” Eddie says with a fleeting grin. “Your introduction is seared into my memory goddamn permanently. No, I was gonna… there’d be stand-ins till you got to high school, like whoever wanted to try out… And you’d be the official, uh—”

“Next in line for the throne?” Erica says wryly.

Eddie laughs, but it’s short-lived—he soon turns thoughtful again.

“Sure. Now I’m thinking, what, eleven, twelve…” He counts on his fingers. “Yeah. By the time you start high school, maybe that’s just enough time for people to not lose their minds about…” He smiles weakly. “Hey, maybe don’t call it Hellfire under your reign.”

“Oh, so you think I’m chickenshit,” Erica says.

“No,” Eddie says softly, and suddenly he’s not half-joking; he sounds deadly serious. “Just don’t want you to—y’know, be mixed up with…” He trails off.

Erica’s not told him about what happened at the town hall, but from the way he’s talking she suspects he knows at least a little.

She wants to be able to snark back at him, you really think Hawkins will still be talking about you years later? Please, you’re not that important.

But the thing is, she can’t know that for sure. She doesn’t know what’s going to happen next.

And that scares her.

Something else mixes with the sinking feeling in her stomach. It’s cold and unstoppable: the righteous fury she felt in the hall, as grown adults condemned a boy they did not know, when she’d figured out within barely five minutes of meeting him that he was all bark and no bite.

“Was gonna give you an open invite to Hellfire, anyway,” Eddie’s saying—almost under his breath, as he twists blades of grass around his fingers. “Like, just whenever you could make a session. I was gonna ask you, obviously, but… Was gonna write up, like, solo adventures your character could be part of whenever you couldn’t come. Same for Lucas, if he—”

“Okay, did you actually tell Lucas that?” Erica asks knowingly. “Or did you just think it?”

Eddie shifts guiltily.

“You need to tell him,” Erica says—remembering the week before Christmas that she’d accidentally broken his mug; they’d fought, and Lucas had eventually slunk into her room, somehow convinced that he’d been completely at fault. “Otherwise he just gets all quiet and thinks he’s done something wrong.”

“Noted,” Eddie says quietly. Contrite.

He looks off into the distance at the ongoing arm wrestling match and sighs; falling onto his back, an arm flung over his eyes, he says, “Thought I had all of Spring Break to figure shit out.”

“And what’re you doing right now?” Erica says pointedly. “Get planning, Eddie The Banished.”

Eddie huffs. Smiles. “Okay, okay.”

He lapses into silence. It makes Erica think that he isn’t just dwelling on ideas for a campaign. There’s a crease between his eyes—and maybe it’s a different kind of frown than the one Lucas wears, but it’s a frown all the same.

She gives him a moment, then pulls out a blade of grass and pokes him in the cheek with it.

He lifts his arm off his face. “Hmm?”

Erica holds out her hand. “I’m making the arrangement official.”

“The arrange—oh.”

Eddie sits up, blinks, blinks, blinks.

Oh, honestly, Erica thinks. He’s one of the most soft-hearted people she’s ever met.

She waits until he takes her hand before saying firmly, “To the future of Hellfire.”

Eddie smiles again, and his lips shake just a little at the edges. “The future of Hellfire,” he murmurs.

They shake on it.

“Seems like a fair trade,” Erica adds. “You get a belt, I get your club.”

Eddie laughs, puts an arm around her shoulders and squeezes.

“Erica Sinclair,” he says, eyes bright with affection. “I’d give you the whole goddamn world, if I could.”

#erica sinclair fic #eddie and erica #lucas and erica #eddie and erica fic #eddie munson fic #eddie and erica ficlet #eddie munson ficlet #a tiny hint of pre steddie #erica sinclair #eddie munson #lucas sinclair #eddie and lucas #erica sinclair ficlet

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sailorblossoms · 14 days

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Baz's raised eyebrow:

(yet another "Simon identifies as 'Baz-sexual' for very good reasons' post)

few things have annoyed me more with these books than when people do not take Simon's "I don't know anything about anything but maybe I'm just a Baz-sexual" comments seriously (dismissing it with a combination of not paying attention to what he's putting down and good old confirmation bias). He even says it in less "goofy" ways with lines such as "he's the only person I have ever wanted" (in the context of thinking about having sex) (note the emphasis on ever) (yes, it's one of the clues saying he didn't want to have it with Agatha, in case it's not clear)

"Like Baz has only ever wanted Simon, Simon has only ever wanted Baz," is necessary to bring up before I get to my point here. I have seen Simon being read as in love or attracted to Agatha ("he must have been or else how they had sex?"... I mean, Simon tells you why it happened without attraction, but even if he didn't, we could make an alphabetized list of reasons it can happen without it, the desire to fit in is no joke) or the idea of Simon liking all sorts of girls, including the girl he pointedly doesn't notice despite her being obvious to others, for the sake of drama and conflict. I have wondered if they don't believe the characters, or if they find the highlighted sentence here boring. "It's boring if the characters only want each other," "in real life people want multiple people" – indeed, but not everyone is wired the same (and why are we stuck on "real life" so much anyway in stories about half-dragon and vampire boys falling in love). But it's not like this sentence is without conflict. Note Baz's eyebrow...

In CO, when Simon says Trixie is cute, Baz's reaction is a boyish "I'm going to puke" comment, which is likely part of how he dealt with jealousy and thinking Simon was straight for years: masking his feelings with "harsh" or sort of "edgy" jokes (probably not the right words to use, but getting too hung up on precise wording is the reason I never finish these posts). In awtwb, Simon calls Pippa cute, and Baz raises an eyebrow...

By those reactions, we could say the idea of Simon calling someone cute because he finds them attractive crosses Baz's mind – or is something he feels in some way, even if the thought doesn't explicitly cross his mind. It's something the reader might assume as well... however, I don't think the way Simon uses cute – which can be used in many different situations – says anything about attraction for him. I mean, a gay man can see a girl being cute or gorgeous as well – Baz certainly does! (attraction is portrayed in these books as thoughts derailed, repetition, sentences being cut off, fixating in a detail no one else notices like they do – you see it with Baz and Simon, Agatha and Niamh, Shepard and Penny. Shep doesn't just call Penny cute – he loses his entire goddamn mind for a whole page about her cuteness and her knees. It's not just a passing comment).

I don't think those scenes when Simon says "cute" is highlighting something about him, other than the fact that he's able to note cuteness. I think it's saying more about Baz's insecurities (I know I once posted something long about it somewhere...) Baz brings attention to it in a way with his reactions... because he's bothered by it. It's something that's sort of hidden and sort of contained, but it's there.

Baz doesn't find himself desirable, partly because of his vampiric nature. But part of it is also about the complicated and messy fear that perhaps... Simon has a problem with being with a man (I know I have unpacked this in other posts, finding them though...). Perhaps "a girl would be better" (It's messier with boys than with girls, it's a thought that comes out before he catches himself with "I don't actually know anything about being with boys or girls".... "I don't know anything about being in a relationship," he says, while still being able to catch there was something wrong with Agatha and Simon's relationship when Simon talks about – because Simon will process things he would rather avoid when it's about opening up to Baz, he wants Baz to know things that would help Baz understand him better, even if he himself would rather not understand... still Baz can't let go of the programming of all those years believing in the golden couple – he has spent a longer time believing that than dating Simon, after all) (Agatha is alive and beautiful, the sort of beauty that's used to "embody" "desirability".... and Baz is "not alive"...) (as a side note, have you noticed the idea – or the actual action – of sex with Agatha is used both with Simon and Baz to indicate a lack of desire toward women?)...

While Simon thinks of Baz as the only person he has ever wanted – Baz is as desirable as it gets for him – Baz struggles with feeling desirable at all. Baz doubts and wonders and has to catch himself – even if he doesn't notice he's doing that. Even if he doesn't conciously think "a beautiful girl who is alive is more preferable than me, a gay male vampire." That is a far more interesting conflict than Baz having legit reasons to be jealous, I think. The fact that he has truly nothing to feel jealous about, and yet... he just can’t help it. It's hard to go against years of programming, of going against the idea that everything about yourself is undesirable and it's better to hide it – another way he matches with Simon. They also match in their insecurities, with small differences: Baz is so amazing and attractive while Simon doesn't feel like he's good enough for him, he can do better than him, etc... while Baz clearly only has eyes for Simon, Simon feels like Baz is merely stuck with him. And the conflict here is that you think "they need to TALK and voice their thoughts for the love of god, what do you mean Baz doesn't know Simon sees him as the love of all his lives??"... talking is not enough. That Simon and Baz only have eyes for each other is not without conflict. Sometimes we need to keep hearing some things, and even then... the fears and insecurities don't go away. Especially when we have spent a really long time believing ourselves to be unwanted, undesirable, something to be hidden. When we have been exposed to things that confirmed those beliefs for longer than we have been exposed to things that challenge them

#this is an old post (that was in my drafts)#i have been feeling like letting this blog go but I'm hauted by the 30+ posts in my drafts i never finished #snowbaz #long and barely comprehensible as always #i might have lost the point along the way #simon snow #baz pitch #simon snow trilogy #carry on #baz grimm pitch #baz x simon #awtwb #wayward son

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hils79 · 6 months

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Finished the third(?) case of game 2!

Ooh look at her trying to rattle Wright by using his dead boyfriend’s name at the start of the trial

I’m headcanoning that is was an adult who yelled this

I’m trying not to talk too much about the actual murderers for those who haven’t played yet. I don’t want to spoil anything. But these screenshots are basically how I felt about this case

Wait, is he talking to…

There’s only one person who talks about Wright in a way where you can hear the heart eyes in a written line of dialogue

LOOK WHO IS VERY MUCH NOT DEAD AND HAS APPARENTLY BEEN HELPING HIS BOYFRIEND SECRETLY BEHIND THE SCENES. I AM LOSING MY GODDAMN MIND

#ace attorney #phoenix wright: ace attorney #phoenix wright #miles edgeworth #franziska von karma #dick gumshoe #wrightworth

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shegoesbyjoy · 10 months

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The final shot of Link Click's season 2 ending theme feels veeerrry reminiscent of the prop used in the 1960 movie The Time Machine (especially that red seat!) but interestingly enough, the actual plot being animated before us—screenshots below—seems to borrow elements from the 2002 release of The Time Machine, which is quite different from its predecessor.

In the 2002 movie, the main protagonist's motivation for building his time machine actually wasn't in the original story (both movies are based on an H. G. Wells novel published in 1895). Care to take a guess at what that motivation was?

His fiancée was murdered, so he travels back in time to find a way to save her.

While the motivations behind the character in Link Click's ED aren't really clear, it sure does imply that this man's (implied) wife is dead.

Now, if you haven't yet and really really want to see the 20+ year old movie I'm referencing entirely unspoiled, you should probably stop reading here. For everyone else...

In the 2002 movie, the time machine inventor travels back in time over and over again to try and save his wife, but no matter what he does...something always kills her in the end. She was destined to die. Hmm, sound familiar?

These are lines spoken by Lu Guang to Cheng Xiaoshi during the earthquake episode (s1 e5), while Cheng Xiaoshi was still in Chen Xiao's body.

SO. What does the fact that Link Click chose to reference this specific movie and this specific plot point from the movie mean for season 2??? I'm terrified excited to find out—all I know is that the implications here are making me lose my goddamn mind.

(Also the fact that this time machine is only revealed by making the figurines of the couple touch palms which directly mirrors how CXS and LG clap in order to time travel DOn'T tALk tO ME)

#link click #shi guang dai li ren #shiguang daili ren #link click s2 #link click season 2 #these parallels are making me feral #btw i saw the 2002 movie in theaters and it legitimately traumatized me as a child #i never thought i'd be talking about it in this way so many years later lmaoooo #cheng xiaoshi #lu guang #the time machine

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sixth-light · 1 year

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(tws ahead: discussion of food, diets and diet culture, eating disorders, calorie counts, and fatphobia in the context of pregnancy)

Truly one of the most bizarre things about being pregnant has been the official advice around food. Food and eating is difficult enough already when you're pregnant - there's excellent scientific evidence that it's advisable to moderate your caffeine intake and avoid alcohol, and an entire laundry list of stuff you're supposed to avoid for food safety/food poisoning risk reasons. (I am a nerd and I read the last scientific review of the linked advice from the NZ Ministry of Health, so I can say with confidence it's also pretty well supported.) Personally, I am largely indifferent to going without alcohol, but after half a year or so my brie cravings are getting pretty intense. That's going to be even tougher for people with food restriction issues. And then there's the potential nutrient deficiencies that come when a baby is sucking up all your available iron, calcium, etcetera.

But on top of all this...a couple of things are also true:

later pregnancy and breastfeeding require a higher calorie intake because you're, uh, feeding an entire baby with your body and those calories have to come from somewhere

healthy pregnancy also requires weight gain because of the aforementioned 'growing an entire person' thing

Western Anglophone society absolutely loses its goddamn mind at the thought of telling women (and other pregnant people, but they are clearly not thinking that far) that it's okay for them to eat more than normal, let alone gain weight

So there's reams and reams of official advice which has like one line saying "maybe don't diet when you're pregnant" quickly followed by "but it's OK! you can diet afterwards! you'll lose lots of weight when you breastfeed!" and then like. eight paragraphs on how while technically, they suppose you need some extra calories during some of your pregnancy, it is DEEPLY IMPORTANT that those calories only come from the most healthy and boring possible foods, because otherwise you might gain too much weight which is the worst possible thing that could happen. Try carrot sticks! Fat-free yoghurt! Dry toast! I have literally seen advice suggesting the extra calories you need can be gained from a "small snack". Maybe an apple. (Most of the estimates I've seen about extra calorie needs in later pregnancy are in the range of 3-400 extra calories a day. That apple would have to be the size of your head.) This is all followed up with dire warnings about gestational diabetes, which is lurking in the wings waiting for any pregnant person who dares use it as justification for eating that extra biscuit. There is clearly a really deep-seated belief at play that if you give them - us - an excuse to eat more we will gorge ourselves on, IDK, chips and ice cream, because the only thing holding us back from obesity is the constant reminder that gaining weight is BAD and that eating too much food is BAD (even though the reality is that weight gain and higher caloric needs are part of a healthy pregnancy). This reality has to be held at arms' length and hemmed in with restrictions and cautions lest all hell break loose. You are very literally advised to calculate your BMI, weigh yourself regularly, and have a target weight gain - i.e. implicitly to restrict your food intake if your weight gain is higher - which I'm sure is just chill and fabulous for people with a history or present of eating disorders.

(The cherry on top of this is that it's normal for pregnant people to have suppressed appetites in late pregnancy despite needing more food because, again, there is an entire baby in there squashing their organs. Add in all those foods that you can't eat, and it can actually be somewhat challenging to eat enough.)

The bit that haunts me is that we know that caloric restriction during pregnancy makes children more likely to have higher weights later on, and you know who is most targeted with this diet-but-don't-diet-but-actually-kinda-do rhetoric? Fat people, who are advised to gain at absolute most about the weight of a healthy full-term baby + amniotic fluid/placenta/etc - and that it's fine if they gain much less weight than that, barely more than the weight of a healthy baby, which would actually equate to total weight loss. During pregnancy. It feels like there could be a lot of self-fulfilling prophecy going on here vis a vis fat parents having fat kids. which is now sometimes characterised as a form of child abuse. FUN.

Anyway, I am sure I'm not the only person to have made these observations (and if you know good writing on this topic I'd love to be linked to it, because I'm way too chicken to try Googling) but man. As I said at the start: the level at which fatphobia and diet culture are institutionalised during pregnancy, to the detriment of actual health, is wild.

(For my money, sane advice would be 'healthy eating advice is the same during pregnancy as it is other times except for the specific foods you should avoid because of increased food poisoning risk, and you need to eat a bit more in later pregnancy. The end.')

#fwiw my midwife has never even asked to weigh me #and she only asks about food in the context of 'are you having any digestive issues' and monitoring of things like iron and B vitamins #so that's cool and good but oh boy #I wish I didn't feel grateful this was the case

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zahri-melitor · 5 months

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Why is it every time someone asks for a list of introductory comics for newbies to get hooked people lose their goddamn minds and start reccing: elaborate Elseworlds that contain triple strength Justice Leagues and which have NO obvious sequels; genre-interrogation pieces frequently written 30+ years ago (even Hush is now over 20); a list of things that very specifically insist they’re Graphic Novels not Comics; and things with Giant Genre Conceit in them that can be confronting to newbies.

Most of this list achieves nothing. ‘Acclaimed story’ usually means the fans love it or the industry loves it, neither of which are barometers for if a NEWBIE will love it.

(There’s also a feedback loop between ‘people who watch Batman movies being recced The Dark Knight Returns so people think that’s what comic and Batman movies should be and disparage a whole list of BASIC superhero concepts’ but I’m tired today)

A far simpler list of suggestions to finding a starter comic for someone:-

1. Something written after 2000. The art will be more accessible. I PROMISE you it will help. You want something with art the person will actually enjoy.

2. Unless you KNOW they’ll get a kick out of something heavily stylised, stick to stuff with clean lines, good colour, and normal human proportions.

3. Ask/think what this person’s favourite stories/TV shows/movies are and PICK A COMIC WITH SIMILAR THEMES.

4. A limited cast list oh my god. Solos or team books for teams with a max of 4 members.

5. Don’t fall into the trap of going ‘an anthology book would be a great sampler’ don’t DO IT, give them an anthology once they’re hooked. You are trying to form babby’s first blorbo, they need to spend exclusive time together.

6. Minis are honestly great in that they have self contained stories, but if possible pick a mini for a character who actually has OTHER real appearances nearbyish. I want to shove Hawkgirl into everyone’s hands but I also know that getting more amazing Kendra stories soon is…unlikely.

7. Alternatively a contained solo run with at least 24 issues. Long enough to hook someone, by the end of it they’re probably ready to to branch out.

8. Honestly, think of your ‘I don’t usually read X family/imprint but this was great’ list more than your all time faves list. Better density of titles that are actually accessible without needing backstory.

#brought to you by Twitter going stupid again #I know it would help if DC reprinted more trades of actual great intro stories #but we do what we can

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pipi-un-kaki-in-pipi-land · 1 year

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the knife i turn inside myself

summary: you get seriously injured when pursuing the hyde together with wednesday, and the aftermath of it takes a turn for the worse

Throat tight, heart racing against time, you were carrying your legs, desperately trying to get out of the vast forest which seemed never-ending. You clutched your wounded rib tightly, blood staining your torso and hand as the gash continued to overflow. It felt like your soul was slowly being sucked out of existence, and you were hopeless about it. Sweat enveloped your face as your tongue absorbed the taste, your mind slowly but effectively losing consciousness.

Before you knew, you had tumbled to the ground, completely knocked out.

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

“y/n,”

Your eyes slowly fluttered open to the call of your name. Mind foggy, eyes blurry, you painfully lifted up your head to see a cleanly stitched line along your rib area. When you averted your gaze to the girl who was right in front of you, your heart couldn’t help but thrum in anger.

“You should rest, your wound is beyond worse,” Wednesday said, packing up the med kit that she had entirely used on you.

“And expect me not to complain?” you scoffed at her, fingers gripping at the mattress beneath you. “I could’ve fucken died, Addams. If it weren’t for your sheer foolery, I wouldn’t be here right now, with a bloody horrendous wound on my ribs that would take a painstakingly long time to heal,” you ranted, tears filling your eyes. You didn’t completely hate Wednesday, you just loathed that she didn’t have the compassion to simply give a damn about others before going somewhere threatening.

The ravenette opened her mouth, but no words spilled out of it. “I-” she gulped, “I’m sorry, y/n. But you should know that this came with the purpose of finding out more about the Hyde, and you accepted the risks,” she said, not even showing a sign of pity for you.

“I didn’t know these ‘risks’ included getting gashed by a goddamn creature,” you answered, fury boiling in your veins. “Everything is always about you, Addams. You don’t care about anyone, or, in fact, anything at all. Had you known the actual ‘risks’, you wouldn’t have even brought me along, would you?” you seethed angrily, wincing as you tried to get off the bed.

“Don’t.” Even with rage twirling inside you, that command felt like a powerful wave as you sat back down on the bed for a split second before getting back on your exhausted feet. “Huh. So you actually do care after all,” you muttered bitterly, heading towards the door. You glanced at Wednesday. “I’m sorry we didn’t work out, Addams. I always thought that no matter what happens, I’ll go back to you, and you’ll go back to me. We were like opposite poles, Wednesday. But I can’t let this slip so easily,” you threw those meaningless words at her before heading out the door.

But deep down, you knew you meant it.

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

As the door shut behind her, Wednesday took a glance at her bed which was always overflowing with your presence. But now, her heart felt empty, as if something was missing from it. Her feelings were like a box, but now with your absence, the box had started leaking. If she had known finding more about the Hyde came with consequences like this, she wouldn’t have done it. Not for anything else in the world.

You were the light to her abyss.

You were the spring to her steps.

You were the hole in her head, you were the space in her bed, you were the silence between what she thought and what she said, you were her night time fear, you were the moments when it was clear.

She should’ve been the one with the wound, as she could never accept to lose you.

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

Back at your dorm, you plummeted down on your bed, tears flowing out uncontrollably onto the sheets. Now with Wednesday gone and your roommate heading back to her homeland, you had no one to catch your tears. You wallowed in regret and roughly kicked your bedframe, but that caused your neatly stitched wound to tear up slightly. You screeched in agony but was too exhausted to do anything about it.

Drowning in your own tears, you fell asleep, surely hating yourself tomorrow.

The sun shone into your puffy eyes as you jolted up, looking under your back to see a small pool of blood. You couldn’t help but be thankful that Wednesday was good at suturing wounds, or else your entire bed would’ve been a crime scene.

As you headed to the toilet, you noticed a piece of paper under the door through the corner of your eye. You carefully picked it up, and it was a sealed letter with the initials of W.A.

And you instantly knew who it was.

Y/n,

You and I are the prime love story destiny has ever scripted. When our gazes intertwine together, that is how our universes collide.

I will always treasure you, mon étoile.

I’m truly sorry.

Yours,

Wednesday Addams

You instantly teared up at this magnificent letter the ravenette wrote. With no hesitation, you ran to Wednesday’s dorm, ignoring the aching pain in your ribs. Once you saw the familiar figure standing outside her dorm, you leaned into her, wrapping your arms around her with no warning.

Her first instinct was to push you away, but knowing that it was actually you, she embraced you even tighter. Before you could utter anything, Wednesday apologized again, meeting your gaze.

“It’s my fault, Addams. I shouldn’t have said those things,” you swallowed, regret already building up in your gut.

“It’s fine, y/n. I just wanted to make sure we’d come back to each other,” she replied, muffling into your tear-stained shirt.

You embraced her even more tightly, and everything felt right in this moment of time.

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