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sister jordan please one chance just one

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Eden the Huntress

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mystery solved

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Never Serious

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English classs

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Vrelnir's QA Collection—Bailey and Eden 🌲🐻🐍

➡️ Vrelnir's QA collection about Bailey and Eden ⬅️

In the past year, Vrelnir has told us almost everything about Bailey and Eden's past. They used to be best friends!

It also includes Bailey's secret crush, they're an unnamed NPC, just for now.

Eden got that old fishing magazine from Bailey and kept it as a comfort thing. Bailey also kept photos of Eden and their crush.

They used to go fishing together, and the old fishing gear was stored by Bailey in the orphanage loft.

Whenever Vrelnir reveals something new about Bailey and Eden, I'll update it on AO3 and X!

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Sydney

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Smirnoff - f!Whitney/f!PC

18+ content warnings & tags: fluff, alcohol use, rough sex, established relationship, drunk sex

1558 words (i told y'all i could do soft whitney)

Whitney plopped down onto the disheveled orphanage bed, a pile of well-loved stuffed animals squashed under her weight. Pulling her ratty backpack up next to her, she gave you a devilish look.

“Fancy some fun, babe?” Your gaze trailed up from the journal you were scribbling in, tossing it off onto the scratchy wood floor. You pulled yourself to stand, snatching her backpack for yourself and emptying the contents onto your sheets. A cheap bottle of vodka (that almost certainly cost less than £10) nearly clattered to the floor. A soft chuckle left your lips, shoving her softly. 

“You’re so fucking predictable,” You slide the contents of her bag aside, sliding a leg over her waist to straddle her. “Just wanna get me all messed up and fuck me, yeah?” A scoff left Whitney’s lips as you nipped at her neck, pawing at her breasts over her shirt.

“Is that a complaint? Doesn’t exactly seem like you’re pushing me away, slut.” Her hands grabbed at your ass under your skirt, punctuating the word slut. You reached over her shoulder, tits pushed directly into her face, grabbed the bottle of liquor and flicked the cap off. Taking a swig, your face scrunched with disgust, nearly spitting up all over Whitney’s face. You managed to choke it down, handing the open container to her with shaking hands as you tried to control your coughing. 

“Jesus, you really can’t hold your liquor, can you?” you shot her a sour look, your glare like a dagger. Her eyes rolled, tilting the bottle to her lips. You study her mouth, the way it wrapped around the bottle, the way her lipstick was smudged just above her upper lip. She effortlessly swallows down the liquid, passing it back to you. A loud belch punctuates the quiet of the small orphanage room. 

“Ugh, do you have to be such a twat?” You frowned, taking another generous drink. You passed the bottle back and forth like this for several minutes. Whitney capped it off, shoving it back into her bag. You pouted, lacquered nails clawing at her backpack to retrieve the bottle. A quick swat to your hand made a scowl cross over your glossed lips. Whitney wordlessly shook her head. She didn’t need to say anything, you knew she didn’t like it when you got too drunk. The sips you’d shared had already begun loosening you up, blurring the edges of your vision.

Whitney leaned back against your headboard, hands roughly grabbing your arm and pulling you into her lap. You gazed up at her longingly, admiring the way the afternoon light hit her through the orphanage window. Tucking a stray blonde lock behind her ear, you lightly traced the curve of her jaw with your finger. 

“Lightweight.” she laughed softly, grabbing your hand and putting it on her chest. Immediately your palm slips beneath the hem, hovering over the padding of her bra. While one hand groped her breast, the other hand slipped into her bag to retrieve the vodka. Whitney’s eyes remained closed, chest heaving softly as you fondled her. Before she could realize what you were doing, you’d uncapped the vodka and were taking several generous gulps. Her eyes shot open as your touching ceased, snatching the open container from your mouth.

“You’re being a brat, pull that shit again and I’m leaving.” Whitney snaps, capping off the liquor and shoving it under your pillow. Your lips pursed, arms crossing as you glared out the window. Sure, you knew you had a drinking problem, but Whitney’s harsh remarks still hurt your feelings.

“Whatever, you’re such a dick,” You mumbled, deciding to climb off her lap and plop on the spot beside her. The weak metal bed frame creaked under your weight. A growl escapes her throat, several sad plush animals toppling off the bed as Whitney lurched forward, pinning you down. Soft whimpers left you as you struggled against her grasp, the extra drinks taking a toll on your strength. 

“I’m so fucking sick of your bullshit,” She tugs roughly at your lace trim tank top, ripping some of the delicate fabric in the process. It’s lifted over your head and discarded to the floor, her hands coming down to your chest, fingers digging into the soft flesh. Her mouth descended upon your neck, leaving a trail of hot, angry bites down your collarbone. You shivered under her touch, back arching against the unmade bed. She was one of your greatest weaknesses, you could never stay mad at her. Without preparation, she reached under your skirt, pushing your frilly panties to the side and plunging two digits into your core. 

“F-fuck! Whitney!” your teeth sunk into your lower lip, eyes rolling back into your head. She wasted no time building up a rhythm, fucking her fingers into you at an unrelenting pace as you clenched around her. Her thrusts were relentless, your hips meeting every curl of her movements. Her lips hovered centimeters from yours, eyelashes brushing your cheek.

“Your breath fucking reaks,” she leaned in, connecting her lips to yours in a kiss that tasted faintly of cigarettes and booze. Retreating her digits in a swift move that had you whining -  a flick of her wrist removed her already loose school tie, using it to bind your hands to the wire bed frame. Your heart pounded against the walls of your chest, head swimming with lust and alcohol. Her hips pinning you down at the waist, she reached into her backpack and pulled out the familiar blue strap-on. With practiced ease, she slipped it up her legs - a confident smirk gracing her lips. 

She positioned herself above you, cupping your cheek in her palm as the cool silicone prodded against your entrance.  She gazed up at you, chest heaving erratically as the appendage ground against your clit - eliciting a soft moan from your lips. You felt like a caged animal, gnawing at your bound arms for a chance to touch her back. Her greedy hands ran down your body, grasping at every curve. Wet kisses were peppered down your neck, a shiver running up your spine each time her lips connect to your skin. The tie digging into your wrists tormented you, building the ache in your core. An admittedly bratty mewl escaped your chest, your legs thrashing slightly in protest. 

She thrusted in all at once, your mouth falling open in a silent scream. If you weren’t subdued, your long nails would’ve been digging into the skin of her upper back. She grabbed onto the back of your leg, hoisting it over her shoulder to hit deeper within you. Stars spun behind your eyelids when she pounded into you, hitting your sweet spot instantly. Loving phrases were whispered under her breath, hardly loud enough for you to hear. A trail of sloppy pecks landed on your inner thigh where it met the crook of her neck. Each thrust sent a shockwave of pleasure through your abdomen. 

Her thrusts grew ragged, matching the irregular rise and fall of her chest as she panted above you. Back lifting off the raggedy covers, your brows knitted together as your mouth fell open. A string of drunken declarations of love spilled from your mouth, your walls pulsating around the toy as she collapsed on top of you. Deftly untying your wrists and rubbing them gently, she pressed a kiss to each palm. Both of you lay there for a moment, boozy breaths mingling together in the stale air of your cramped room. She nuzzled into the crook of your neck, arms tightening around your waist. 

“You really ought to listen better, slut.” She teased, fingers grazing your side gently. Your body tensed in response, eyes squeezing shut as a giggle forced itself from your lips. Your small spurt of laughter was all the encouragement she needed, hands diving under your shirt to tickle your soft stomach. Your body curled up, grasping at her hands and desperately trying to rip them off as you cackled loudly.

“S-STOP! STOP IT!” your squeal reverberated through the small room. She finally retracted her hands, leaning up to plant a chaste peck on your temple. She rolled off you, grabbing the vodka from under the pillow and taking a long swig, leaving you breathless. Sitting up, your eyebrows raised quizzically as you watched her. 

“Hey, that’s not fair!” you whined petulantly as she shrugged, capping it off and zipping it back up in her bag. It didn’t irritate you, not really, anyways. It showed that she cared. You laid back on the bed together once again. In the soft glow of the late afternoon, here with your girlfriend, your room felt less like a prison and more like a piece of heaven. Cuddling into her chest, your palm comes to rest on the side of her face, vision slightly blurry as you rub her cheek with your thumb.

“You’re so pretty…” your voice comes out a little more slurred than intended. Whitney’s eyes roll as she grabs your hand, holding it in hers and resting it on her torso. You swear you can see the faintest hint of blush creep up her neck. 

“Shut up.” she mutters quietly. The comfortable silence enveloped you both, and you listened to the quiet beating of her heart. For now, that was enough. 

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Kylar is obsessed with you

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SHE WOULD NOT SAY THAT

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First post of the year! I had to draw Whitney on this one Trisha Paytas meme I saw on Twitter-

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Kiran for KiranD0L 😺 (friend's PC) "cigarette aftersex"

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WAAAA IT CAME

thank you @chaossuta for the wonderful art!!

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Kylar

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JORDAN LET ME HIT PLEASEEE

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