#Because it's weird self indulgent and old
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kakusu-shipping · 2 years ago
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Ginko with 3, 4, 9, 14, 18, 20, and 22? If that’s too many, feel free to pick and choose instead!
@sabosweetheart
@sabosweetheart Gink ask!! Very cool!! Much Gink..
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3. What about public displays of affection? Are you open about your relationship or do you prefer not to be? How many people know about it?
We're open about it, sure, but there's not a lot of people to be open about it to. Ginko has other partners, I think, but he doesn't talk about them much when he visits. They probably know as much about me as I know about them.
PDA is hard to achieve when your an artist living alone on a mountain and your maybe(?) boyfriend just kind of shows up about twice a year to check in and let you know he's still alive and kicking.
4. What is your love language? What is theirs?
Quality time, same as Ginko. Just being around him, knowing he finds my home to be a safe spot to stop and unwind for a few days is enough, and he seems to think so too.
9. Do you guys like to cuddle? Handhold? Hug? Kiss?
Uhm... No? I mean I do but Ginko.. Doesn't, I don't think. He hasn't made an advancements in any of these. I suppose I've held his hand once or twice, walking the snow mountain paths around my home. Hugging and snuggling... No no, nothing like that. Kissing? I.. Wouldn't mind, I suppose, if he wanted to..
14. Would you consider yourself a romantic person? Is your f/o one?
Yes! I can't imagine how someone could be an artist without being a little bit of a romantic. My short stories are full of love and romance and tragedy! Ginko on the other hand... I suppose he is, in his own ways.
18. How do you guys handle jealousy?
I've never felt jealous in that sense... I suppose I am jealous of Ginko, though, traveling all over the country, seeing all sorts of Mushi, helping all kinds of people.. his stories are amazing, and maybe I'm a little jealous but... He comes back to see me, despite all the amazing things he experiences, so there must be something rather amazing about me too.
20. How do you guys fluster each other? Are either of you prone to blushing?
I HAVE gotten Ginko to blush! Only a few times, and over silly things. He's rather easy to tease if you target some silly mistakes he'd made in his travels. His face flushes when he laughs. As for me, I'm sure my face is red from the moment he enters my home...
22. How was your first kiss with your f/o like?
First kiss... That would be rather nice... Perhaps I'll ask about it the next time he drops by...
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i-really-like-phrogs · 9 months ago
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Re-design of my un-named Beetlejuice OC from back when I was thirteen
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Original Reference under the cut:
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#my art#beetlejuice#toonjuice#beetlejuice cartoon#beetlejuice fanart#beetlejuice movie#procreate#I don’t really make OC’s for fanwork anymore… but the ones I had when I was younger almost never got named 🥲#When I first made her I really really liked her- and her story was very self indulgent#Looking at it now is almost way too weird for me… (and honestly a little unintentionally homophobic???)#Basically she was one of the girls from Dante’s inferno… except she got kicked out because she only had attraction to girls#(This was BEFORE I suspected that I was a lesbian— mind you.)#Yeah but anyway she went to the Deetz/Maitland house looking for a place to stay but drove everybody crazy#She was super flamboyant- loved everything pink n fluffy- and was well meaning but did more harm than good trying to do nice things for the#She had this one sided crush on Delia??? Like musical Beej and Adam except less perverted and more flirty/sappy? I was an odd kid- okay? 🥲#Anyway… the old design didn’t really do much to show off her personality… so I ended up upheaving the whole thing#It was okay for what I knew at the time- but I know what I was trying to say then and now I have the knowledge to say it better#Also— the reason I gave her horns here is so silly.#When I was younger I was in a Christian school where I wasn’t allowed to draw witches-ghosts-demons-etc.#So even though I based her on the Dante girls… I refused to give her horns because I thought that was ‘too sinful’#I even remember having so much guilt while looking for references of the Dante workers#I couldn’t even look for more than five seconds!#Anyways… she really pushed the boundaries for me at the time and it’s fun to see how I’ve changed and grown since then.
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quinn-pop · 1 year ago
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sorry for the metadede flood lately um. anyway i think dedede officiates waddle weddings. if they even have them lol. it’d be funny and cute
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foxmulderautism · 1 year ago
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lover boy era felix pov like a worm in my brain i dont know if there's enough to actually turn it into a story instead of random writing bursts but i just wanna write him being silly and whimsical and bisexual
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our-reality · 2 years ago
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ok achievement got i'm brainrotting about c+ so hard
#SEE CUZ CALLING HIM C+ IS WEIRD TO ME NOW but anyways#i think he's so so silly but he's also profoundly sad but like. in a new way#his story is like. weirdly the inverse of python's???? like they left their families and began to indulge in new identities#so as to not be found#but. ohhhh my god okay buckle in#python did so because he didn't want his old family to find him. c+ did so because he'd be jailed for working age restrictied jobs#python hates its old family. everything c+ does is for his family#in taking on a 'fake' identity python discovered his real self separate from from its identity as a god and as a part of his old family#meanwhile c+ so frequently loses himself in the fake identity he has to wear in order to help who he loves#that he genuinely forgets his real name sometimes#and it crushes him so much when it happens. it crushes him that java's friends with a stranger instead of him#because he connects with java so much. they're just two kids who lost their way and now they're here when they don't even want to be#and it crushes him that he can't embrace who he is because if he gets too comfortable if he tells the wrong people the wrong things#the fragile web he's built under himself will collapse#and yet. he's more himself than he knows. and he finds new things that he works into both his c+ persona and the person underneath#and by opening up to his best friend about all of this he finds out that c+ and him aren't really that different after all#and while he's ready to start embracing the real him with more people... he doesn't regret his time as c+.#after all. he wouldn't be the real valentino without him.#(valentino is his real name)#AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA#I LOVE YOU PARALLELS I LOVE YOU ACCIDENTAL FOILS ILY ILY ILY#anyways#<- i wanna experiment with calling him c+ but until i make a final decision i'm keeping his tag as c4#c+
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tojisun · 2 months ago
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the hand that feeds you
— “i take care of her, s’all.”
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johnny mactavish x f!reader
cw: 18+ work - minors dni; age difference; daddy issues (kinda the central plot); cooking as a love language; slow burn but in high speed; a breath of angst; power imbalance; canon divergence - regular/non-military life au // amazing divider by @gildui! // 6.5k words
extra notes: this is a very self-indulgent work. there are holes in the plot, 100%, so ignore those holes pretty pls </3 also ik this is more of a captain johnny-verse but midway through, i started projecting so i might’ve written him incorrectly and im really sorry for that!!
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being roommates with johnny is not as weird as it is; he’s amicable, at first, then full blown nice when days passed. he’s not loud, per se, but there’s always a constant chatter streaming from his space, like he physically can’t sit still through the silence which is great because you don’t fare any better with the stillness too, so reminiscent of how it was in the suburbs.
you moved to a neighbourhood just skirting past the inner city just because it’s a lot cheaper. but even then, rent was always high and your little box in a rundown complex wasn’t going to sustain you forever even if you wished it would. then, an opening in johnny’s townhouse was posted, almost half-price than whatever is up in the market, and it’s great despite your skepticism. hell, it’s more than great — it’s lifesaving.
your shitty job at the bookstore really can’t cover much of your expenses anymore, and sure student loans and the grant is great, but the growing debt makes you wince so it’s whatever at this point. you’re about to graduate soon anyway, pooling work experience from volunteering and club organizations, and it’s not like you can even go back to how it was.
(underway to law school, primed up before your father’s scrutiny but the burnout got to you before you could even write the LNAT. you realized that being a barrister wasn’t really what you wanted so you changed programs, midway, and switched to children’s education.
god, the disappointment in your pa’s eyes was so big, you knew to pack your shit before he could even kick you out.)
it’s… tough.
god, is it tough. none of your old friends and colleagues could stay in contact, which you don’t hold against them because most of them, by now, have graduated and entered law school. you’re straggling about two years back because of the switch in programs, and everything’s gone too tight. your budget. your social life.
your dating life.
johnny often distracts you from it all — he works in downtown, in one of those high-rise buildings often reserved for limiteds or holding companies, and has to travel off the city every three months. he makes good money, he said jovially, and you know it’s a nudge as to why your portion of the rent is cheap in the first place.
when you finally bit the bullet and asked why he put up one of the rooms in the market, johnny just shrugged and said he needed someone to house sit but sort off permanently. said something like last time he left, the pipes bursted and he couldn’t really fly back to help with the repairs.
it’s great being with him. he’s bright and bubbly, but also dependable in ways you never really thought about. like—
well, it’s all mundane things so listing them feels embarrassing, and it makes you feel as though you’re a touch-starved damsel and johnny just so happened to be the next older man to give you any attention and his time. but you can’t help it. god, you can’t help preen at the way he exists beside you.
he’s just so… beautiful, is what it is.
rugged and charming and loud and filling. the townhouse is too big for the two of you, but johnny makes it work. makes it feel like the two of you just fit into each other’s spaces.
early mornings are spent with him lilting between english and scottish, his exhaustion plastered onto him even after he’s downed two cups of coffee. he bumps his hip onto yours when he ambles out to prepare for his work, grumbling something like good morning and how’re you. afternoons are more lively and productive; it’s of you coming back from campus at six in the evening only to find him in the kitchen, fixing up dinner. it’s always something fancy and rich in flavour; something he always eats with wine on the side.
you, uh, you never thought he could actually cook, let alone feed himself well, but there he was, always a plate ready for you too like it’s expected that you’ll eat dinner with him. like spending time with him was just natural — the sky is blue, the ocean’s deep, and you and johnny fall into each other like there is an invisible string pulling you close to him.
it’s a beautiful change of pace, and there are more days now when you can breathe in a little easier, and you know it’s all because of johnny. it’s all him who pulled you out of your slump and out of that darkness and gave you the room, literally, to grow.
he’s beautiful, but you’ve said that already, haven’t you? he’s just… so good to be with.
then, johnny began picking up and bringing some home.
.
the first time it happened was shocking, really.
you had an early morning, something that’s so murky now in your memories so you’re unsure if it was anything uni related or work related, just that it was five in the morning and you were clambering downstairs as quietly as you could. you rounded the length of the hallway from the platform to the kitchen when you ran into someone.
“steady,” she’d said, voice hoarse and loud in her shock too.
you yelled, jumping, arms swinging because was there an intruder, and it took johnny physically subduing you for you to calm down. looking back now, you burn in embarrassment, but then you had been so worried, your body wound up so tightly in your fear.
“shh,” johnny had murmured with that wry grin. “s’just me, lass.”
your eyes danced between him and the brunette — pretty even in her rumpled shirt, with long legs and a small waist — trying to understand what was going on. you are sure johnny had told you before that he wasn’t seeing anyone so who—
“your girlfriend?” she asked johnny, turning to him with her lips pursed and her brow cocked up.
the question settled in your stomach, doing wonders to your already-fragile psyche. you’d just spent hours thinking about johnny and what he meant to you; what living with him meant. how it eased up something carved within the trenches of your being, like you’d always been waiting for someone like him.
the question was a reminder, like prickling you with icicles, leaving you to navigate the swoop. but johnny had laughed, nothing mean but so dismissive that you felt the curl of shame brandishing from the base of your spine like johnny was laughing at you.
“oh, nah,” he replied, arm still slung over your shoulders. “she’s sorta my ward, yes? i take care of her, s’all.”
that’s all. you’re nothing more to him but a ward. a tenant. not even a friend—
she hummed, then leaned over to kiss johnny, her eyes still drawn to you like she’s watching, waiting for a reaction, and when she got none, she trudged to the door. you and johnny watched as she bent down to slip in her shoes, some stilettos with red bottoms, before wordlessly disappearing into the darkened morning.
“pretty,” you chirped, trying to break the tension of whatever that was.
johnny laughed in that way that surely crinkled his eyes, only to steer the conversation away by asking why you were up early. you remembered what you had to do and you dived to the kitchen in a flurry, chatting about the deadlines and due dates — so it was a school thing — and johnny just watched, silent, humming, eyes still curved in his glee.
you left no sooner than his… paramour did and, for a while, that was that.
but your semester is coming to a close and your schedule is changing, but so is johnny’s. he’s coming home later and later, but always seemed to offer apologies in the form of easy-to-microwave meals for your dinner. they’re still homemade, probably cooked up in the morning before he left for work, and you’d messaged him to say that he didn’t need to worry about you. that, sure, you came to him amidst financial struggle, juggling work and school, and trying to decide if you would have to starve this month because of rent, but you can cook. for yourself and for him too.
johnny’s face did a terrible thing when you mentioned that in person, the first in a while after things got hectic.
“what,” you bit out, embarrassed.
“nothing,” he said, blinking like he was realizing things he shouldn’t. “s’fun doing things f’r you.”
then he clamped up, spooning soup into his mouth, some of it messily dribbling into his chin. it’s not like you were doing any better, with how your throat closed up at his words, eyes going wide.
it’s been a thing, is what it is, but neither of you two have ever acknowledged that it’s a thing. it’s been a wordless experience — of johnny taking over things when it comes to the house because of course he will, it’s his home, but he always covers things for you too. things you’re sure normal landlords don’t really worry about, but not johnny.
there’s always extra food in the kitchen, extra blankets when the weather dips. there’s even a new cooling machine for the summer even though you know johnny’s room already has an installed air conditioning. he’s even changed the seats in the dining room because he caught you once hitting your hip after an all-nighter on a project.
then, he refurbished the den to make it your office.
“you didn’t have to,” you told him, mind racing at your savings, wondering if he was going to increase your rent.
johnny just shook his head with an almost fond roll of his eyes and clapped your back, arm hovering there. “s’all yers, hen.”
everything he did always accounted for you. so why the women?
they’re all long limbed and trimmed waist, with eyes that sparkled even when all you’ve seen of them is always within the poorly-lit hallway. they have voices that curl teasingly, breathy like they’re enticing johnny for one more night. and they’ve always, always, treated you like a—
like a kid.
a burden, almost, of johnny’s.
and, hell, maybe you are. johnny’s almost twice your age; he’s also already well-established in his career, some senior position that you can’t really follow but one he talks about with fondness. he’s got land rover-money, the car in his garage big and black and almost military grade, and it looks so expensive especially beside the crappy civic you were able to snag for a cheap price because it’s got about three-hundred-thousand mileage already.
you’ve got nothing to give him, other than the lousy rent payment that he doesn’t even really need but is just asking for courtesy because it’d be so weird for him to offer a room, or two now given you have the den too, for free. you’ve got nothing on your name, and if it isn’t pity that makes johnny care for you, then you don’t know what.
maybe his string of one-night stands are right — you are just a kid.
that maybe you really are still too wet behind the ears for the real world that you go running to the next person that could protect you from it, stumbling into his life and licking up every drop of his attention, mistaking his kindness for devotion. his care for love.
.
you should have known, then, that the thoughts would ripple, leaving you to feel like the days are unnavigable. obsession quickly took root, growing fangs, and it ensnared you; a vice noose at what had been a pleasant coexistence.
hell, you can barely stand being with johnny because of the jealousy. it’s a shameful thing, but a part of you thinks you deserve johnny more than the others do.
you tell yourself that nobody knows about johnny’s nightmares and the horrors that spill from his lips when it’s twelve in the morning and the two of you have hit the bourbon. you tell yourself that nobody knows about johnny’s aversion to the windows in the living room; that the reason why the curtains are a deep green is not to match the new plants he’s allowed you to fill up his home but because they shroud the panels more than the cream ones had. you tell yourself that nobody knows that johnny can sing; that he can cook a mean tomahawk; that he likes reading; that his wrists were hurting so he’s currently scheduled for a surgery; that he’s soft to you.
the women don’t know this johnny, you tell yourself, nails clawing at the hems of your chest. they don’t know him the way i do.
it’s a pathetic whisper. it’s so laughable. so juvenile.
they’re right. they’re right.
(you’re just a—)
“i don’t see you anymore,” johnny murmured one morning, when things have gone quiet again, a cup of coffee sitting on the counter while he watches you throw orange peels into the garburator.
he just got back from a work trip in aberdeen, his exhaustion loud on his face. his hair is overgrown, the bottom ends of his mohawk curling along his nape. he was there for over three weeks, skirting almost close to a month — the longest he’s ever been away — and you had tried so hard not to message. not to drop casual check-ins because you’re sure no tenant ever does that to their landlord, but johnny had remained just as friendly; asking things like if you wanted another potted plant, a monstera or a dragon tree, or if you still had that swiss chocolate he brought home as a gift, or—
the list of his questions grew, but you’ve given him clipped replies, not knowing how to act right anymore since your quiet realization. even the “thing” that you thought you shared with him had fizzled at the drop of the women coming-and-leaving, and you are left to pick up the pieces.
it’s not like you’re broken or ruined or angry. god, no you aren’t.
but you feel unsteady, like now that you know that you liked him more than he liked you, you forgot how to breathe. how to live without that looming burden because your affection is nothing but a burden.
what will johnny do if he finds out? you can’t afford a new place to move into, not when you’re so close to graduating, the finish line just about to graze your very fingertips with how near it is. money is still tight, and johnny has already spoiled you rotten. has shown you how it is to live a comfortable life. and if he learns of your feelings, you would lose this. more than anything, you would lose him.
so you detached yourself from the noose, curling into yourself and using his work trip as a way to move on.
jesus — move on, huh? like there was a ‘you and johnny’ to even move on from. like there was anything there to read. like there was anything there to pull away from; twitching fingers drawing back into the spaces of your ribs, tucking yourself away from his warmth.
“i’ve been so busy, john,” you muttered, just as tired.
“yeah?” he said, still light. still jovial. “let me cook something nice for ye, huh? reward yer hard work and all.”
“i can’t.” you swallowed down the prickle lodged in your throat, eyes ducking away to avoid seeing his. “i’ve got a meeting with the club.”
(you missed the way johnny’s smile dipped.)
“oh,” he said.
you shrugged, internally wincing at your weak attempt at being normal, before gathering your thermos and your messily-wrapped sandwich. johnny was still standing by the counters when you turned around from the sink, his bulk so close to yours in ages. it had been so long since you could just reach over and feel his warmth; feel the soft pudge of what once were hardened muscles.
he’s looking at you with such sad eyes that it’s jarring to truly see because he’s looking at you like—
like he’s losing you.
“i’m gonna…” you trailed off, not really knowing how to end this truly awkward interaction.
“yeah, f’course,” he croaked out. “take care of yerself huh, lass?”
“thanks.” the smile on your face felt more like a grimace. “see you.”
he said nothing more after that, his eyes still searching; still furrowed like something’s changed and something’s happening, and it made your stomach drop because please. please don’t let him notice.
but johnny just watched as you went, his coffee all forgotten.
(something bloomed in the soft press of your heart, flickering like a young ember. you’ve never realized how longing could feel like your mouth is stuffed with cotton.)
.
johnny hasn't picked up since his return from aberdeen.
they’re getting a new firm so the shuffling has been brutal, leaving johnny to clamber out at five in the morning before coming back home when it’s pushing 11pm. the scruff on his face is becoming more unkempt, salt and pepper becoming more intense, but even then, he’s never looked more ruggedly beautiful as he is now.
it’s like he’s aged years and you shouldn’t be reacting so strongly to the change, but looking at johnny now makes you ache in a different way — core throbbing, throat parched and eyes stinging as you watch him. you’re so drawn to his gravitational pull, unable to detangle yourself now that it feels like he’s more back in your life than he ever was.
and you know it’ll end up hurting you. that you’ll go back to isolating yourself at the drop of a new girl in the house, the smell of her chanel or bvlgari perfume filling up the crevices that you’ve dutifully dusted every saturday morning while johnny’s out for a run. he’s made having casual lovers a cycle, one that you cannot blame him for because johnny doesn’t like you back.
but johnny’s been so attentive to you these days. he’s been a hovering presence even when he looks like he’s one blown wind away from passing out in his exhaustion, his warm hand always on the small of your back as he walks you to the door before chirping a hearty, “kick ass, bon!”
he’s back to fixing up food for you, like that blip in your schedule got him all creative because now, it’s not even just dinner. you’ve got breakfast waiting for you in the microwave, and packed lunch already in your bag, carefully tucked beside the manila folders and plastic envelopes for your capstone. it’s like he’s making up for something which is dumb and wrong because now, you’re all swooping stomach and prickling lungs.
“yummy?” johnny asked, catching you wriggling in excitement at the flavour bursting into your tongue.
your cheeks tingled, feverish, before giving him a shy nod.
he huffed, something so achingly fond, and rested his chin atop his crossed arms. you didn’t know what to focus on — the scruff on his face or the hard lines of webbing veins spilling from beneath his folded sleeves. then, he crooned, “good. that’s good.”
you ran upstairs to your room, throwing an excuse about finishing up your paper, before locking the door, and feeding your cunt two fingers to satiate the burn. the stretch was delicious, raw and sweet, and you humped your wrist, trying to douse the flames burning you up.
you thought of johnny, of the way he looked and how much nicer he’s been; of johnny and the way he was so kind to you, so caring like you’re up in his priority list again, overtaking his busy schedule and the firm restructuring, and his needs.
your orgasm felt like a ripping of reality, your mind splintering at the edges as you’re stretched thin. it felt like you’ve been pulled taut, then released with a resounding snap. it felt euphoric, like the explosion of something intoxicating. something wickedly addicting.
you knew that this could never be unmade. your affections had grown their tendrils, curling past the quiet admiration and spiralling into something unforgiving. into something greater than yourself.
“fuck,” you had rasped out, eyes prickling with tears as shame rushed into your chest. “fuck.”
you didn’t need this. you didn’t need any of this.
but it becomes a cycle — wash, rinse, repeat.
johnny continues to go unshaven; continues to pour his attention to you. and you soak it up, needy and soft, unable to turn away with your tail tucked between your legs. you fall back to the ease of how it had been, hip bumping his, morning coffee shared in the silence, dinner a filling affair once more. all that’s changed are the lingering looks, the resonating touches.
how johnny’s wide hand falls to the small of your back more often; how his fingers just slots against yours every time he passes you your cup; how his eyes rove over your face, always searching for something you dare not hope for.
the last time he flicked his eyes down to watch the way your tongue lapped at your lips, swiping away at the extra cream, johnny’s pupils had constricted before a quiet groan rumbled from his throat. your thighs had quickly clenched close as heat exploded in the pit of your belly, spreading like wildfire through your veins. the pressure on your nub made you hiccup, like a whine dragging itself from your trachea, and johnny had snapped his eyes back to yours so quickly, it made you heady.
“bon–”
“i have to go,” you murmured, clamouring to shaky legs.
you fucked yourself to a deafening point once more, ears ringing as you squirted, the gush of your slick pushing past your fingers. you had to gnash your pillow cover to muffle the moan rumbling from the base of your throat, trying desperately to be good. to not be heard. to be better.
but johnny’s burning gaze on your lips was seared into your memory, blazing on top of everything, and you imagined—
god, you imagined.
the way he’ll take you — beard rough on your chin, thicker fingers spreading you wider, reaching deeper, before finally filling you up with all of him, bullying the whole length of his cock until he bottoms out.
you pressed on your stomach, dizzy, thinking about how johnny would hit that far. you know he would. the women he’s slept with have told you, anyway, in passing, describing how he was in bed with dreamy sighs like they weren’t still reeking of sex and johnny’s aftershave.
(you still wonder why so many of them were mean, their noses tipped up every time they saw you. they were the ones that johnny chose, the ones who were fortunate enough to have been his lover, so you wonder why they still sought you out like you were competition.)
“johnnyyyy!” you moaned, loud and long, your fingers prodding at your walls, and you knew that you’d regret the wrangled cry later, but you didn’t care then, too busy swimming in the aftermath of your orgasm.
.
but johnny heard it anyway.
he told you that he had heard you. 
it happened so quickly — one moment you were bent over the espresso machine, fiddling with the levers with bleary-eyed attempts, then the next thing you knew was that johnny was crowding you, trapping you between the warm bulk of his body and the counter, his eyes furrowed so deeply which made the lines on his forehead run much deeper.
“whu’?” you asked, blinking tiredly at him.
johnny just did this shaky breath that rattled his whole body, like he was propped up by a couple of sticks instead of his whole mass. the mood shifted with that weak inhale though, and you turned to fully face him, ignoring the beeping machine because johnny was still looking at you with those eyes.
the ones that made you feel seen, read, and laid bare before him. like he could weave his eyes past the fabrics of your shirt to peek into the very jagged shards of your heart and see the cross that you’ve been carrying. like he knew things about you that he shouldn’t.
“johnny?” you prodded again, finding his silence alarming.
“yer too young for me, m’eudail,” johnny finally rumbled out, voice thick and deep.
and it’s—
what.
your mind was pressing into your skull, trying desperately to link your synapses together; for the fog to clear and for your coherence to rise above the pull of drowsiness, but johnny was faster. like now that he’s said the first words, the rest just follow, unstoppable in their force and in their meaning.
“i told myself i couldn’t,” he murmured, still breathing shakily; gaze still too fragile. “that yer lookin’ for nothin’ like me, and that yer just tryin’ to get out there with yer career.”
he lifted a hand, fingers twitching, before balling it back down to a fist.
“told myself i’ve gotta let go. found a way to cope and shit.”
johnny took another ragged breath in, and it startled you into gulping one of your own — you didn’t even realize that you’ve held your breath as he spoke to you, your chest clenching tightly as your mind began to link the passageways together, filling you in on what he wasn’t really saying.
“but carin’ f’you was so easy. christ, it was even delightful, hen.” he chuckled, something that was somewhat raw and pained.
you licked at your lips, blinking wide eyes open. johnny tracked the movement, his nose flaring like you’ve done something more than a subconscious thing, his shoulders going taut.
“i like doing all sorta things for you. liked seeing y’eat what i cooked; liked seeing y’use what i got f’you. liked watching y’come home to me. to me.”
a soft sound echoed between the two of you, and it took you an embarrassingly long time to realize that it was a breathless whimper that petered out from the base of your throat. you didn’t even realize that you’ve curled into yourself, almost like you’re trying your best to shrink before johnny, and johnny crooned.
callused palm cupped the round of your cheek, his thumb swiping just underneath your eye. “told myself yer too young; that surely yer looking for someone closer to yer age, but bon, i heard y’last night.”
you startled in his hold, a quiet gasp piercing through the heat. johnny’s lips danced with mirth.
“s’right. heard a loud thump against the wall and ran upstairs, all worried, but guess my surprise, yes? y’were moanin’ my name so loudly, it’s like y’left yer door open.”
“johnny, i–”
“tell me,” he said, moving closer, his chest pressing against yours. “tell me t’stop, bon, an’ i will. but y’ve got to tell me. y’ve got to push me away.”
you looked at him, your eyes trembling at what he was laying out thickly, and your throat going parched at the blanketing desire rippling from him. there were so many things you wanted to ask, but his breath was tickling the bridge of your nose, dancing so close to the bow of your lips, and your heart ached.
desire coursed through you in waves, dribbling from the cup, and you lurched forward, chasing after his lips.
johnny melted into you. his hesitant touch turned greedier, more possessive, mapping your body and pulling you closer into him. his mouth devoured your own, gulping down the pleased little sighs and keens spilling from your lips. he kissed like a man starved, but you weren’t any softer; all nippy and desperate, fingers digging into his hair and fisting at the thin strands.
it was feverish, almost to a boiling point, and you needed more.
god, you needed more.
“johnny,” you mewled when he pulled away just enough to slide his damp lips along the cut of your jaw. “johnny, need you.”
“christ,” johnny sounded so wrecked, his voice rumbling deeply from where his lips were suckling on the soft curve of your neck. “i’ve been dreaming of this, mo luaidh. i knew i shouldn’t but yer so sweet to me and i– i wanted.” he said that word like it was dirty; like he’d been fighting tooth-and-nail to suppress it.
it made you tremble to hear how johnny desired you just as much. he had always felt unobtainable; always danced too far from your grasp and was always bigger than what you knew you could handle — his lovers had always looked divinely; pretty, yes, but fierce in their own right like they knew how to live without johnny; and you know they could, because they didn’t need johnny the way you do. they didn’t look at johnny like you do, like he hung the stars with those thick and aged hands of his.
but as you stood there, feeling every word punctured onto your skin, you couldn’t help but begin to cry, the tears springing from your eyes to slip down your cheeks. johnny rubbed your back, soothing and gentle. 
“i wanted t’take you – make y’all mine,” he whispered. 
you hiccuped, shaky from the weight of your hunger, and nuzzled close. your hands fell from fisting his hair so you could claw at the sharp corners of his shoulder blades, feeling the muscles there rippling, all taut when he bent forward and kissed you.
“please,” you began, feeling your mind thinning because you wanted more. more. more. more. “i can be– johnny, s’always been you. nobody else but you.”
you tugged him away, cupping his jaw and forcing him to look at you. and god, johnny looked so devastatingly beautiful, his eyes all furrowed and his cheeks all flushed, and his lips spit-sheened.
“fuck me,” you whispered, tired of dancing around.
he groaned, something that sounded so pained, before he was tugging you with him, up the stairs and skirting past your room and into his. 
you’ve never been in johnny’s room before, just as he had never been in yours since you moved in, and until now you still don’t know what you had been expecting upon walking in, but the smell of johnny wafting through was almost gut-punching. he smelled so close, like he was everywhere — surrounding you from the ground-up, dousing every pore with him until even your mouth felt full.
and johnny, he smelt like home. 
there were no more words uttered as he stripped you off your pyjamas, sure fingers making their way down the buttons, unlatching them from the hemmed slits. you watched with heavy eyes, blinking slowly like everything had been wrung out of you, leaving you pliant and soft. johnny hummed, appreciative, and mapped kisses from your heaving chest, teeth nipping at the fat, before moving on, sprinkling every expanse of your skin with such reverence. 
your hands were balled to your chest when he reached the jut of your belly, his chin hovering just above your crotch. johnny flicked up his darkened eyes at you, asking silently.
you gave him a nod, not trusting your own voice too.
johnny’s eyes had turned into slits, pleased, and hefted himself up just enough to be able to fit his hands on your hips and tugged your pants down. you shivered, the warmth in his room not enough to suppress the winter chill, and it made you buck into him. johnny comforted you with a quiet shh, rubbing his palm on the pudge of your thigh in soothing circles.
you don’t know why that touch was what did it for you, but soft sobs finally spilled from your mouth, scrunching up the desire into something undeniably frail. johnny didn’t startle though, like he knew that you had been wounding up to this tipping point, and instead continued to touch you tenderly, almost like if he could, he would cradle you close. 
“i love you,” you said, sniffling, because that was the crux of your vulnerability, right?
you love him. god, you love him. 
you’ve loved him since the day he sat you down for dinner and told you that you’ve got nothing to worry about, not anymore and not with him around. you’ve loved him since the day he flipped the den so you can have your own space for work; don’t mind the fact that he didn’t know if you were going to even stay, just that he insisted that you deserved that room either way. you’ve loved him since that swiss chocolate, since that cup of coffee, since he’s begun filling your painfully lonely days with his care. 
you’ve loved him since and now—
“oh, mo graidh,” johnny breathed out. “i love you too.” he kissed your thigh, scruff ticklish. “gu siorraidh is gu brath.”
you wanted to ask what that meant but johnny was already moving, sitting back up to strip out of his own shirt. you trailed your eyes down his body, capturing your trembling lips between your teeth at how breathtaking he was — soft with fat but still heavy with muscles, fuzzy with hair with the smattering pooling just underneath his belly button before trailing down to where they were hidden underneath his pants. 
you twitched before finally braving enough to reach out and brush your knuckle over the indents of his softened abs. johnny hummed, something that curled with appreciation, before covering your hand with his and holding it there. 
“all of me s’yers, hen,” he said with such finality that you felt it settle deep within the marrows of your bones. 
you nodded, emotionally spent and johnny lilted something else in scottish, so soft that it was almost a croon. you let him manhandle you — pushing your hips up so he could slot a pillow under for your back; you were so malleable to his touch as he took over, bending once again for a kiss while his fingers danced past the laces of your panties and into the damp heat of your pussy. 
you moaned, eyelashes fluttering when he pressed one in, so careful and slow, but you were so wet that it slid in with no resistance, gobbling it up knuckle-deep. johnny had groaned like he could feel your rising euphoria, before nosing along your temple as he wiggled the finger around, stroking at your walls. you wondered if he was going to tease but then he was pulling it out, only to plunge two in the next thrust, curling and stretching, and oh—
oh, ssss’good.
you don’t even remember how long he’d been spearing you with his thicker fingers, rough and long and reaching far, far deeper than you could with your own, but you laid there, sobbing, feeling your slick slip out, pooling, making a mess of your thighs and his sheets. johnny had moved from suckling on your neck to taking a nipple in his mouth, teeth softly gnashing at the bud. you felt like you were on fire, burning from your core, aching for a release. 
“cum f’me, m’eudail,” johnny groaned, breathless himself, his cock poking underneath his boxers, the fabric all wet from where his tip was, leaking pearled pre-. “let me see you.”
“johnny, i’m gonna– i’m–!” you squealed, legs jumping, squeezing johnny’s sides as you jolted, hips twitching at the bloating ecstasy. johnny just pushed down on your thigh, not letting up with the pace of his fingers. he was fucking you so hard that his hand’s slapping against your skin, his palm grinding down on your clit just right, and the pleasure sizzled into something biting. into something that was almost painful.
it was catastrophic, pulling you into two directions. johnny’s everywhere — his scent in your lungs, his fingers deep in your pussy, his mouth hot and wet on your tits, and like this, like this, you felt yourself breaking. 
ripping—
then, your orgasm was punched out of you. 
your senses had gone awry — throat throbbing as you cried out, your eyes going blind as they rolled into your skull at the final curl of johnny’s fingers. white noise filled your ears, and it was like you were submerged underneath water, wading through the crashing tides of your climax.
you came back to johnny peppering your face with soft kisses, whispering something you couldn’t decipher past the croon of your name and something like you did good and so beautiful. he’d already pulled his fingers out, and used both arms to cradle you close. you felt so empty — god, that wasn’t even his cock, yet — but your body thrummed pleasantly, almost like the itch was finally scratched. 
“johnny?” you puffed out, voice all scratchy and weak. 
“i’m here, bon. i’m here.”
you hummed, curling into his chest, head pillowed by his arm. you wanted to ask what about his own euphoria, but johnny seemed so content just laying there with you, not really desperate or needy, so you let it go, losing the battle against your drowsiness before finally slipping into a quiet sleep. 
.
johnny’s there for your graduation, carrying a big bouquet of only eden roses. you didn’t even know that those particular ones were expensive until someone from the graduation party oohed and aahed to their friend. 
your cheeks burned when their friend chirped, “well someone’s clearly loved.”
you know that what they said would have had johnny agreeing loudly if he was allowed in the lineup because he is never one to be shy about what he feels; or not anymore, anyway. he loves so fully and openly that you still wonder why it took the two of you so long to get together, but the days since then had just been kind and filling that you have long forgotten how it was to not be with him. 
they’re going to call your name soon, and your stomach swoops, excitement and anxiety mixing in a dizzying tandem. 
you’re graduating with a bachelor’s degree in psychology and a diploma in early childhood education, and this is not where you thought you would be when you first started university, but it’s the happiest you have ever been. and sure much of your poli-sci courses were scrapped when you changed majors, and that’s also a lot of money wasted, but you have three job opportunities lined up already and it’s like the seismic shift in your life had finally corrected itself. 
(your mom said she’s sorry that she and your pa couldn’t come, but you’ve stopped longing for their acceptance and told her it was fine.
there’s a date saved in your calendar, though, for a brunch with her and that was enough.)
you ducked into johnny’s arms when the graduation ceremony ended, careful of the bouquet he’s holding. 
“congratulations, bonnie,” he says, a hearty laugh rumbling from his chest. “christ, i’m so, so proud of you.”
you never pegged yourself for a crybaby, but tears begin to pool in the corners of your eyes at the weight of his words. 
“thank you,” you reply, soft and raw, and honest. 
johnny pulls you in, his lips warm as they’re pressed on your forehead. 
and this, just like this, you know things will only get better from here on out. 
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luveline · 4 months ago
Note
Hotch request w Jack and new baby!!! Coming back from the hospital and reader is in bed with new baby and Jack while Aaron is in another part of the house (maybe making food in the kitchen) and reader starts crying because she’s in pain and jack is all concerned and sweet and goes to get Aaron??
thank you for requesting, sorry I messed up where everyone was! fem, 1.3k
“He’s gonna stab him!” 
You blink from the spot you’d been staring at, pain momentarily forgotten. “What! Where’d you learn that word?” you ask in surprise. 
Jack leans back against his big velvet pillow, blue with silver stars, looking as though he’s in the lap of luxury. “At school.” 
The cartoon mouse on the TV raises his fencing sword high in the air. 
“He’s not stabbing anyone, they’re fencing,” you say, reaching for his hand to hold. “Stabbing… that’s pretty scary. How did that make you feel?” 
“Well, I’m not gonna stab anyone,” Jack says. 
He’s confused that you’re making a fuss, just old enough to realise you’re poking around for his feelings. You worry lately that you aren’t paying him enough attention because of his new brother, and the word stab isn’t exactly age appropriate. 
But maybe that’s what the boys his age are talking about? You frown more, your hand slipping along his arm to curl behind him. You pull him toward you. “Come on, handsome. Cuddle me.” 
You’re too sore to move, so Jack has to come to you. He crawls across the couch until his arms can wrap around you and his cheek can rest against your chest. Stab is an apt word for the feeling in your stomach. Jack’s arm squeezes at you and the pain worsens, so you move it up your front and curl your arm around him. 
“Is it a bad word?” he asks. 
“No, it’s just like hit or slap, I guess. And I know you’re not gonna do any of that to anyone. You’re too gentle.” 
“Gentle is a good word.” 
“Yeah.” You kiss his forehead, a moment of self indulgence. You love your stepson, and he is oh so kissable. “Oh no, look at the mouse.” 
Charlie sleeps in his swing seat, the soft whirring of its constant motion almost as comforting as the sound of his soft breaths. You watch him for a while, Jack climbing up at your side to press his face to your neck, leg on your thigh, slowly pressing against the tenderness that is your abdomen. “Uh, Jack,” you breathe, trying to pick him up, “you’re gonna have to climb off of me, my tummy hurts too much.” 
“Sorry,” he says quickly, slipping off of you and onto the couch cushion. His foot kicks out as he rights himself, a jamming of his toes against the pain like a spike. 
You take a deep breath. Ouch. 
“It’s okay,” you say, groaning softly as the pain thrums, hand on your stomach as though your touch can make it stop, “just a tummy ache. I– I’m okay.” 
“You got little tears?” he says, his voice going wobbly. You try to blink away tears and end up with a straggler curving down the slope of your cheek. “I’ll go get dad!” 
“Jack, I’m okay,” you say. 
Too late. Jack scrambles from the couch and away from you, up the stairs to find his father. You’re not sure what Aaron’s up to, he’d only said, “I’ll be right back,” twenty minutes ago. You’d guessed laundry. 
You’re glad Jack’s run upstairs when you realise the pain isn’t going away. It’s not bad, not half as bad as your contractions had been, but the whole labour process has sapped you, and you feel weak as a willow branch in bad weather. You shift heavily onto one leg and cross them, uncross them when the pain spikes again, letting out a weird and breathless whine as it turns to a full blown cramp. 
Jack returns with Aaron in tow. His hair is dripping wet, soap suds on his neck and his shirt stuck to his chest. He’s rushed out of the shower to see you. 
“What’s wrong?” he asks as he rounds the couch. “Jack told me you’re not feeling well.” 
You hold your arms out for a hug. He doesn’t falter, simply does as you want, his hair wringing wet and dripping onto your shoulder as he gathers you in his arms. 
You hold onto him like a lifeline. The cramp curls, and tightens, has you seizing up against him. 
“What is it?” he asks softly. “Stomach pains again?” 
The nurse said it’s your uterus shrinking. Whatever it is, it’s sudden agony. You shudder into Aaron’s shoulder until the pain pangs and fades, leaving your stomach a tense mess. It hurts to move, so you stay clinging to your husband and let him hover over you. 
“Are you okay?” Jack asks.
You sniff. 
Aaron pulls away to take your face into his hands. He holds you with care, his thumbs under your jaw, index fingers running diagonally under each eye, tips at your brows. Just a stolen few seconds for him to check you over. No tears to be wiped away. 
“Still hurting?” 
You shake your head, eyebrows pulled down in a bad frown. 
“Okay. Alright. Motrin?” he asks. 
“No,” you whisper, “can you just stay here?” 
Jack says your name. 
You peek past Aaron’s body. “Jack, sorry.” 
“Are you okay now?” 
You grimace, “I’m gonna be fine, it just hurts sometimes and I didn’t have any medicine today. That’s all. Sorry, I scared you.” 
“You didn’t scare me,” he denies. 
You can’t help smiling, then. “Okay, I didn’t. Thanks for getting dad for me.” 
“He’s our hero,” Aaron says. He sits down beside you carefully, his voice quiet and his hand gentle as he holds your thigh. “I’m glad he did.” 
Jack climbs into his dad’s lap. Aaron wraps an arm around him, the other at your side, fingers tapping at you. 
You rub your forehead. Tip your head back and take a deep breath. 
“Jack,” you whisper, breathing out, “I’m sorry if I startled you. It doesn’t hurt anymore.” 
“It wasn’t scary, I said that already.” 
“Oh, you did?” Aaron teases. 
“It was okay, I just don’t want you to hurt.” 
“Only baby pains,” you say. 
For a few minutes, you and your small family sit there in silence. Aaron works a hand behind your back to hug you, Jack snuggles into his chest, and Charlie stirs in his swing seat. The quiet calms him, and he goes back to his soft snoring seconds later. 
“I’m sorry about your shower,” you whisper. 
“It’s okay. I’m sorry about my baby,” Aaron whispers back, drawing circles into your lower back, “he didn’t mean to chew you up.” 
“Ugh, I know.” 
Jack raises his nose. “What? Chew? Do babies bite?” 
“It’s an expression, babe.” 
“Oh.” He looks at his baby brother with suspicion anyways. “He doesn’t even have teeth?” 
“Buddy, it’s just a joke,” Aaron says, laughing as Jack slips out of his lap to go and look at Charlie in the seat. 
“Maybe he did have teeth,” you say. 
Aaron ushers you toward him, rests his cheek on your forehead. “It’ll feel better soon. You need to rest, that’s all.” 
“Your hair is so wet.” 
“I was in the shower.” 
“Sorry…” 
“Don’t be,” he says. “Don’t be.” 
You reach up to tousle his wet hair. “Miss showering with you.” 
“We showered last night.” 
“No, I stood there and you helped me wash my back, that’s not the same.” 
“Well, I enjoyed it.” 
“I bet you did.” 
Your fondness attracts many, many kisses, his nose nuzzling your cheek. You settle under the weight of him and watch Jack where he frowns at Charlie, big brown eyes squinted, waiting for a show of teeth that won’t happen. Aaron brings a hand to your tense stomach, waiting for you to lean back before he begins massaging the tensed muscle there with a slowness that borders unmoving. 
“Tell me if it hurts too much,” he says. 
“You can go finish your shower.” 
“I was finished. M’gonna start pressing in, okay?” 
You wince as Aaron begins, but slowly, slowly, the tenseness from your cramp softens. It still hurts, but he makes it manageable. Jack delivered your rescuer, and your rescuer loves a soft touch.
1K notes · View notes
gladiatorcunt · 5 months ago
Text
- # LEMON SUGAR !
flew like a moth to you (sunlight)
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cw: weird pet play, reader has a vagina, large age gap (reader early 20’s & logan is…. not), HEAVY PISS KINK, dirty yucky icky gross vibes, xmen 2 coded logan, dad (father figure) bf talk and behaviors (old man, kiddo, dad, essentially lifestyle dom-ing you) anal plug mention, praise kink but one usage of ‘bitch’ and ‘toilet’, reference to a canon scene with jean but in this au she was just clowning on him as a friend, scogan crumbs, mentally ill & unhinged!reader, self objectification/dehumanization (?), reader: “i wish a/b/o was real :(”, pt.2 to . bc the dynamic might be confusing, implied unaware mutant!reader
do not copy, translate, or feed this work to ai
1k event. / please consider commissioning me
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Logan doesn’t slap his tip against your cheek more than a quick initial love tap (if a tight awkward handshake from a man decades older than you was a sexual act) but he loves to force your head against his crotch and really massage it into your skin. His other hand holds his dick like he’s aiming to piss, a slight scowl twisting his lips because he’s trying to concentrate. His cigar hangs out of his mouth and his bulky hips swivel as he grinds his precum into your face, cheeks, around your eyes, lips, check check check.
He doesn’t even necessarily want you to suck him off that bad and he’s not even trying to cum. orgasming is a slower pursuit for him these days anyway. He just wants to dirty his puppy up a little, enrichment and whatever the fuck. Maybe you can make a game of trying to catch the salty droplets on your tongue, see if you can spot them when they’re about to gush out and trickle down.
An activity can both be a perverted parlor trick and a form of indulgent self care that trivial things like ice rollers or under eye patches couldn’t replace.
“There we go, atta puppy.” Logan chuckles and ruffles your hair when you manage to lick away a bead of precum before it can drip down out of your reach.
“Daddy, don’t tease. ‘m trying to focus, that’s rude.” You give him a good shake, smiling wildly.
You’re already drunk and loopy just huffing the pure musk emanating from his uncut cock. You hum as the salty tang of his juices taint your tastebuds, luxuriating in the aftertaste like you were chowing down on a dainty macarron. He doesn’t really believe in eating or drinking anything special to make his crotch and the things it produces taste better. You couldn’t be more happy about that, the whiskey sour twang riding on the flavor notes were much more preferable than some biblical concoction of milk and honey. If only it was more acidic, that way it could burn a hole through your tongue and your cervix. Marking you so thoroughly from the deepest parts of your soul, you’d always be empty and every pang of pain would call for the man that caused it to soothe your burns with his saliva.
Intimacy with Logan feels like you’re reconnecting in whatever version of the garden of Eden can exist on Earth. Why can’t it be here? With you on your knees so close to barking into the skin of your old man’s cock, a fancy cushion settled under you with little golden tassels hanging off the corners. You are always so willing to be the best you can be for him, but he’ll never allow your service to come at the price of individual pain. Your eyes flutter and you take one of your many breaks to plunge your nostrils into his thick bush.
Wooden and spicy, your favorite perfume that is undeniably raunchy yet sensuous and romantic. Natural. You never thought you could be so in love with how a man’s pubes smell, but you can’t say that you thought that any part of this would have become your life’s purpose in more ways than not. Logan chuckles and pats your cheek, enamored with how clearly you seem to be enjoying suffocating yourself in his groin. He sharply inhales through his nose when you move up to trail your tongue along his happy trail, lapping at the thinner hairs because you adore each one just as much as every part of him.
“Bet you wish you could live off my dick, don’t ya, bunny?”
Of course you nod and moan as you let yourself be pulled back to where you’re supposed to be, the mothership calls you home and you answer happily with your phantom tail wagging all the way.
You pant, digging your nose bridge into the crease where his hip bleeds into his inner thigh, “Mmfh- hah… tastes good, Daddy. I could die here…”
You wanted to cut your voice break of ‘Daddy’ short, but you haven’t arrived at that particular station in your subconscious to shed your skin entirely. You’re having trouble forming a coherent line of thought and finishing your sentences now, but you feel sheepish about how easily he can box you into going nonverbal, so you clamor to stay afloat.
You forget that Logan knows your game by now, every step and caveat and every miniscule and complicated rule. It’s cute how you’re still ashamed of letting your dear old dad see you in all of your bunny-puppy-deer-kitty pet glory, when he clocked that shit the minute your shaky eyes fixated on his truck’s glove box rather than make a second of eye contact with him. You’re fucked up, there’s something fractured deeper in you that you keep under a diary shaped lock and key, but all these jagged edges have bows teetering on their precipices.
You’ve let him put them there, with a fond eyeroll and heaps of head pats. Thank your lucky stars that there’s something fucked up with his psyche too, buried under all his other baggage, because that first ride home with you didn’t end in tears and your nipples caught in his canines. You got to be a bunny settling down in their deserved cozy den instead of a rabbit relying on their prey instincts to throw the predator chasing them off their twitching fuzzy cotton tail.
You don’t get to hide and shrink in yourself. Not when the curled up needy angel hidden under the layers of you makes his jaw ache so ferociously that it’s borderline bestial.
Baby, you’ve gotta know that if he could, he’d pick you up with his teeth by your scruff so your feet would never have to touch the ground and grow ripe with callouses.
He takes a puff from his cigar and shakes the excess ash over your shoulder, out of your view because he also knows that you’d try to swallow the unhealthy specks down too. It’s a constant thing on his mind, the never ending job of pulling your leash enough to wean you off of engulfing whatever weird shit into your mouth you can see out of the corner of your eye. And if it comes from him or was in contact with him? Hell, the stuff might as well be damn catnip to you.
He thinks he feels the same way about you, that’s what he gets for being stupid enough to have an inch of his heart unguarded. You found a way and wormed your way through his arteries, and now he’d rather go sober cold turkey than let you squirm away. Which is what you try to do by pulling back and settling soft hands on his hairy and beefy thighs.
He’s got you hook, line, and sinker when he clasps a burly hand around the base of his thick cock in the poor imitation of a knot. He even squeezes in short pulses, bringing to mind what it would look like swelling up and pumping you full of potent cum. Breeding you with all the love of a man who wants more of you in the world because that might make him believe in it again. He wags his length in his hand to you, wordlessly offering you your favorite snack because you’ve been so very good for your old man.
“Come on, hun, want your treat? I know my puppy wants this big dick in their cute fuckin’ mouth.” He grumbles, stubbing his cigar out on his arms without even flinching or gritting his teeth and tossing it on the floor.
The burn’s already healed by the time you’ve gotten yourself and obediently let your tongue hang out of your mouth. He grunts, pleased, and dabs his sticky tip on the center of your tongue. It gives you the taste you crave while simultaneously depriving you of having your mouth filled like you desperately need to be able to get through the day.
You whine, Logan’s lips split on a wry smile but he doesn’t laugh this time. Nah, he’s too busy feeding his throbbing cock into your mouth, cutting off your whining and reducing a thunderous sound to a muffled crack of lightning.
“Theeeeeeeeere we go, kiddo, relax.” He says a few inches in, because your gag reflex is already tickling the back of your throat.
You breathe through your nose and distract yourself by playing with the hairs on his legs, drawing little hearts and stars as you take more of his length. Tears well up in your pitiful eyes but you brave through it. They eventually bubble over as your lips are forced to stretch, but Logan’s rough thumb dutifully wipes them away just like how you’d attentively cleaned his tip.
His head falls back with a slight crack and his sweaty pecs heave, “Drank a whole lot for you today, ‘m all nice and backed up just waitin’ for a pretty lil’ thing to relieve myself with.”
Suddenly you’re a bunny hopping off on a mission, no god could pull you off of Logan’s musky cock as you swallow around him. You don’t really feel like bobbing your head and humming today, you’re tuckered out from how late he kept you up late last night. He’s not going to just fuck your mouth without being asked, as much as he cares about you, you’re impossibly cute when you’re forced to do the tiniest bit of work.
If your mouth wasn’t so stuffed full of dick you’d pout, and the raised eyebrow Logan gives you means he knows that. You’re a good pet though, so you work yourself off of his length, take a deep breath, and immediately slide back down to the hilt. His full balls press against your chin and you rub the heavy sacks with both hands.
“Oh, fuck.” Logan groans, his fingernails dig into your scalp like he’s the one that needs to stay grounded. “Your gonna make your old man jizz his pants too quick if you keep fuckin’ playin’ with my balls like that.”
You don’t mind that at all, but there's still something else you’re after. You didn’t think much of how many bottles of water and glasses of alcohol he had thrown back today, maybe it was some sort of mutant thing that you just didn’t understand. Super dehydration or whatever, but the fact that he had been preparing a little surprise for his piss thirsty puppy made you want to give him your bloody heart right out of your chest.
His moans and growled promises of rewards and declarations of the rawest form of love a person could feel fade into the background. You hollow your cheeks and go for gold, wet ‘schlop!’-ing sounds bounce off the walls as you fuck your throat with his girthy cock. Not the longest in the world, another one of your blessings (you’ve heard mutterings about mission showers and some guy that shoots lasers out of his eyes taking that prize), but the way it fills up the space in your mouth to the point it could burst gives your clit tachycardia.
“Yeah, fuck, are you ready to drink up, bitch? ‘m gonna use you like a toilet, gonna cum too- god fuckin’ damn-”
You give his balls a solid squeeze as the golden shower pours down your throat and past the seam of your lips to the floor. You don’t stop your ministrations, you actually speed up your pace and bring your wrists into it. Your hands bumping against his imitation knot-hand as you move them in circles, jacking him off while your plush lips glide up and down his cock.
You’re rubbing your pussy against the cushion, it has corduroy buttons that send a tingle down your spine when they catch your clit. The emerald green fabric drags and moves as you hump it while you put your all into making your dad-boyfriend-everything cum. You’re outright bouncing his heavy balls in your hands now, they’re so full you know that one load isn’t going to be nearly enough. So you tell yourself to lock in and hum, sending vibrations down his dick.
Determined puppies get extra treats, and you’ve never gone without them. So you push yourself to make eye contact, flicking your eyes up to stare at Logan as you ruin your own throat via his dick like it was nothing more than your toy. You think it’s the sheer and essentially licentious mannerisms and the glaringly obvious truth that there are men who are not immune to watching a pretty pet posturize themselves on an altar of their own making just to paw at their owner’s legs.
“My baby bunny, too damn sweet to me, yessssss-” His mouth wrenches up almost in pain as he clings to the back of your head and pounds your throat on his own for the next minute.
“Drink it all up, let me feel you swallow it down f’r me.”
You purposefully yank yourself off of his mid stream and duck down to bob his balls on your tongue, lathering them in that pungent scent. You rotate your wrist around his tip, coaxing him to empty everything he has in him and give it all to you. Your hand becomes just as scent marked as his balls and the divots in your collarbone where drops of his piss and cum are forming tiny pools.
He groans at the sight, “Doing so fuckin’ well, collectin’ Daddy’s juices and hoardin’ ‘em all for yourself.”
Your mouth envelops his twitch dick once more, most of what Logan keeps cooped up for you belongs in your growling tummy.
“You better not hiss at me when I have to wash your mouth out later, baby.”
Thus, your perfect record remains intact, you beam around his still hard dick as you float in a starless sea of white and yellow. A coat rack for cock fulfilling its duties.
His piss isn’t too orange-y, you’re glad you don’t have to nag him about cutting back on the booze this time.
Sadly there’s no blood sticking to your scalp from his nails, but you embrace the sting their indents leave behind. They’re almost as breathtaking as the plug buried in your ass, Dad always likes to keep your holes stretched out and ready.
—————————————————————————
“Girls flirt with the dangerous guy, Logan. They don’t bring him home. They marry the good guy.”
With you, he was that good guy. Whatever it meant to be one after all these years and invisible scars. It’s indescribable, how much meaning you can find in having to gain the strength to take care of someone else completely. Be their Atlas and shoulder the world so they can waltz around you, their wings spread wide. He’s glad, deep down, that your wings don’t extend past the small house he’s stuffed you in.
Logan Howlett deserves a nice thing or two every once in a while, and he already got a bottle of scotch from Scott. Fucker thinks he’s so clever. You’d do just fine being the second nice thing. A shame that the nicest thing you probably have is that slick stained cushion, he’s not anybody to write home about. But you seem to have stitched your sides together when he wasn’t looking, sewn your identity into his until you had emotionally fused into one being.
It happened way too fast and when he thought he wasn’t meant for loving a little pup like you, but he’s tired of being some old grump about it. You’d probably snap and try to beat him to a pulp with the bats he keeps in the closet (for you to use in emergencies since you don’t leave), and he’d have to hunt you down through the
Anything else other than you meant about as much to him as a pile of cigarette butts.
And some time later when the dam bursts for the first time and you’re trying not to fall off that cliff, sisyphus-esque struggling through recurring hoarse sobs because Logan is uncomfortably stroking your back gently as if you were a person and not a corpse, you’ll start to feel the molten hot gold seeping in and filling the cracks.
Maybe one day you can tell him about the v-shaped scars on your back, the ones that look like they were created when something was ripped away from you. They’re slanted craters, almost, hard material resembling bone jutting out from your back. Hooks lacking their ornaments.
Hell snatch up your old fashioned grocery list (written with an almost completely dried out ink pen from the bank on a flimsy college ruled sheet of paper) and make a quick run while you heal more than just your body, submerged in another acid trip of a dream.
You wanted to make a lemon cake before the summer ended, it’s always been your favorite.
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inupibaldspot · 11 months ago
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Even 12 years laters,your soul was in a color of kindness.
Pairing : Gojo Satoru x Reader
Note ₊˚⊹♡ : purely self indulgent which I wrote when I was drunk so— some stuffs are funky
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Gojo first met you when you where four.
He was five years old at that time too and was being escorted by a maid to go to the clan head meeting; he assumes you were also part of a clan brought by elders.
Normally, the white haired boy never really cared for other people. Why should he? He is the chosen one. He has the limitless technique plus the six eyes of the Gojo clan. He was the closest thing to God at this age. But today it was different.
He watched you turn your head around and stare at him, he could vividly remember the way your eyes shone with amazement either for something as superficial like his white hair or the fact he was recognized as The ‘Gojo Satoru.’
But after that amazement, you smiled. You smiled at him so bright, with the evening glow of sunlights made you so—so ethereal. Your smile was childish and that’s why it was simply pure; the white haired kid’s eyes silhouetted with the sunlight shone with surprise for he found you beautiful in ways he couldn’t describe.
Gojo looks away— he beat himself for looking away as that made him look standoffish. When he looks back, you were staring at him confused for why he didn’t greet you back.
The maid beside you turns and says something, as you nod and then walk away. Was it weird for Gojo to wish you would simply turn to him and introduce yourself? For years to come, he prayed that he’d love to hear your name; for your soul was in a color of kindness.
That chance came in twelve years later when he was a second year of his Jujutsu Tech. Him and his friends, Geto and Shoko wanted to meet the new first years. There is Nanami Kento, had a huge stick up his ass but that it self made him to be forever victim to Gojo’s pranks. Next was Haibara Yū, a bright eyed kid but Gojo found him to be a bit too— energetic for his taste.
And then you. I didn’t really need to describe Nanami and Haibara first because the first and only person he saw ever since he entered the first year’s classroom was you. Simply you. You sitting on the chair smiling bashfully at them. At him.
Ever since, every day. Without fail would rush to your side. At first you were confused as that is not the Gojo you remembered l; the one you saw and described to you by others were not this.
Nevertheless it warmed you up like a cool evening sun.
Gojo released quite early was you were kind, the type that would help others despite of her time , the type who would help every elderly by the street, the type who would feed strays and yada-yada-flowers and rainbows.
But that led to another realization. Had you truly different been treated differently?
Gojo's body tensed up. Any comfortable vibe he had felt before vanishing in an instant. He had known very well that you were a kind-hearted human being. Welcoming and warm. That made you so interesting. Your soul was so calm and simple and nice.
And even though he had observed you so closely before he wasn't able to recall any moment anymore where your own feelings had been obvious. You didn't stutter around boys.
You didn't blush. You didn't hesitate in a way which could be trailed back to her personal feelings.
Were you treating him like everyone else after all?
“Gojo?”
Your voice brought him back to sense, you were blinking curious, leaned close—so close.”what’s wrong?”
“Bring out your hand.” He smiles, as you did without question. “Guess the word I’m writing on your hand.” He smiles when the warmth from your hand soothe his nervous heartbeat.
“Eh—I’m not good at kanji!”
“That’s just too bad—!”
From then when ever Gojo feels anxious of everything—everything in this world he would play this game, with your fingers and her palm because his focus on you was more gravitating rather than that as you were simply too calming.
Geto felt slightly hesitant when he saw the type of Gojo he would become when he was by your side, he was a tad abit careless as if all of his six eyes were simply focused on you, he would be a tad bit kinder to the point Nanami gets the ick.
Where as Shoko had a blast!
She would make way towards you, give kisses on your cheeks gushing on how cute you were, wrapping her arms around you as she then sends a condescending look towards Gojo who was literally drowning in jealousy.
Shoko and you got close early on and more so because you two were the only two girls in those years. To the point where even a shy person like you was influenced to sneaking into a party with Shoko.
“Please don’t mess with my hair curler, Gojo.” You say as you look into the mirror, fixing your earring and from the corner of your eyes you could see Gojo holding up a lick of his hair into the hot iron.
Gojo peers over and immediately regrets it, you were in a short dress and high heel, hair curled so—cutely and boy, your face.
He looks away.
No, too cute.
He thought as he lets down the curling iron. Shoko peers out as she lets out a puff of smoke before passing it to Geto, who takes the cigarette in his hands. “Don’t tell me you want to come Gojo.” Shoko says. “I want a girls night.”
Gojo remember almost comically crying into his pillows as Geto nags him on ‘how woman don’t like clingy guys.’ He decides to forget Shoko and join you guys anyways.
He remembers being strangled by Shoko while you him a nervous smile trying to diffuse the situation.
Your nervous smile which made the world freeze to him, Geto sighs at the love sick look his white haired friend was giving you, who seemed so obvious to.
But don’t you remember when I said you were kind. You were kind like to help the cornered kid, the type who would volunteer to be with the loner kid, the type that picked Geto Suguru’s side.
Gojo sighs when when remembers Shoko saying you said something along the lines of ‘I don’t want Geto to be lonely along the path he takes…’
How stupid!
Gojo Satoru where ever he went would go around town mentally keeping sense of any cursed energy which could relay you back to him.
He meets you again though.
12 years later, while him and now—principle Yaga were walking along the hallways they sense a breach in security. He rushes over to first, see his once best-friend Geto Suguru by his current first year Okkotsu Yuta and secondly, you. Your eyes we’re nervously flying around before it lands on him and once again he was yours; Geto scoffs at the sight of Gojo’s expression when he was looking at you. He was almost worried that if you said ‘let’s join Geto’ with a plea—se, he just might. You just had that effect on Gojo.
But too bad, Geto was here to request war upon the Jujutsu Tech. On the 24 December, Night Parade of a Hundred Demons.
Gojo rushes through curses as he makes his way towards you; and when he does, he feels as if he can’t breath. “Can you come back…?” He takes a step closer.
You smile nervously,shaking your head as you watch him take another step closer to you, you felt his hands reach out and cup your face. His face was so close to yours, you could feel the warmth radiate off him in the cold winter air. “Don’t kill me for doing this.” You we’re reminded that you guys were enemies and in a battlefield.
His face was closer now, his blue—beautiful blue eyes were slightly closed. You breath out. “I can’t kill you through your ‘Limitless’ Satoru…”
“Say it again.”
“Huh…?”
“My name. Satoru…”
You breath out. “Satoru…” The name you accidentally let out, felt so right.
“Fuck… say it a million time more, love.” Gojo laughs, slightly hoarse. “My limitless is never activated when I’m with you…”
before you realize his lips were on yours. The kiss was soft, as you hands were tentatively placed on his chest, as his hand trails along to your waist you parts your lips for him, sighs in his mouth, and that small sound of pleasure drives him crazy, floods his body with heat and desire so intense the strongest sorcerer can hardly stand.
Your are pulled away from him, when a darker and tall man goes by. “Miguel!” Gojo listened to you say.
“I need you to focus.” The man says smiling, before he takes a stance to fight Gojo. And to Miguel credit, he does fend off Gojo well, so— well that he was ‘recruited’ by him.
The day ends with Gojo losing two of his best friends in different ways. Geto would be gone, into the afterlife ended by his own hands.
But you?
Where were you? Would he meet you again 12 years later? Love?
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hannieoftheyear · 4 months ago
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after all this time (kmg) TEASER
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When you get asked to be on the wedding party of a long-lost friend, you get the chance to reconnect with former classmate Mingyu, but not without your old feelings and struggles resurfacing.
Posted! find it here
pairing: groomsman!mingyu x bridesmaid!reader
w.c: 1,2k (teaser), full au will probably be around ~15k
genre: friends to lovers, fluff (teaser), smut, angst (full work)
warnings for the full work: it's another self-indulgent 'running away from your high school past' story from me, dealing with insecurities, a lot of not standing up for oneself, will probably add more as i keep writing :p
note: don't know when exactly i'll post this one, but i'll try to do it before september ends!! comment on this post if you want to be on the taglist ♥
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It is said that changing your usual routine helps improving your mood, taking another path home, shopping at a new place, sitting down at a different park, changing your coffee order, changing the little things to feel more energized and be more productive. You wouldn’t know, because every task you complete as fast as possible to be back home quickly. So, after days of not being to think about anything else but the upcoming wedding, it’s your only option left. 
The sky lit up with golden light, the grass and trees as green as ever, and a light breeze that prevents you from getting too hot, you walk around a park you’ve never been to before with your new ‘hot girl walk’ playlist as a soundtrack. The kids playing on the playground are the only sounds that get through your ears besides the music, maybe a bark or two as well, and the sun against your skin soothes all your worries. Damn. Going on a walk does fix your mood. 
A hand grabbing your arm softly startles you, and you’re about to punch the mystery person when you recognize his face. 
“Mingyu?” 
His eyes are focused on your fist that was ready to hit him and you lower it down, beginning to take out your airpods. 
“Sorry! You scared me!” You erupt in a nervous laughter. 
“I’m sorry! I called your name but you didn’t hear me.” 
He stands apologetic in front of you, looking down at his feet before daring to look back up at you. 
“How are you doing? We didn’t get to talk the other day.” 
“Yeah! It’s good to see you! I didn’t expect you to be there, it was a nice surprise.” 
Is it too weird to say that? Well, it’s already done. 
You notice a bike by his side, a cute pink helmet with glittery heart stickers hanging by the handle. He must’ve been biking when he saw you and took it off before calling your name. 
He gets the tiniest bit shy at your words, his ears turning a light shade of pink before disappearing quickly. 
“It’s been so long...” 
“I didn’t know if you were still friends with Olivia, I didn’t know if I was going to see you.” 
“Oh, we’re not really that close anymore.” 
You fixate on the first part of his last sentence, ignoring your body’s reaction to him implying he wanted to see you. There’s a silence as you finish your words, as it wasn’t the reply he was expecting. 
“Life, you know? We just grew apart.” 
It was you who stopped making an effort to talk to them, but even if it was still for your own good, you’re a little ashamed to admit it to Mingyu. 
“She still asked you to be her bridesmaid, that must mean something.” 
Ever the positive guy, he tries to make you feel better after the sour comment. 
“Yeah, it’s really nice of her.” 
The sun shining so bright prevents you from looking up at him, but you smile hoping he notices. 
The slow steps you’ve been taking side by side turn awkward with silence. You wanted so badly to talk to him after the other day, but now that he’s here, in front of you, your mind goes blank. 
“It’s good that you still hang out with the guys.” 
You don’t know what else to say, and the words spill out of your mouth. He doesn’t seem to notice the awkward atmosphere, his body as comfortable as ever walking by your side. 
“Yeah, even though not as often as I’d like.” A regretful smile forms across his lips, “Our schedules haven’t been lining up, I just met Olivia in person for the first time yesterday actually.” 
“What? There’s no way, you didn’t share any classes in school?” 
He shakes his head, chuckling at your surprise. 
“I think I only ever shared one class with her, but I didn’t really care much about her crowd back then.” 
“Wow, thanks for that.” 
He means all the popular guys your friends would hang out with, and you know it, but there was always something so fun in teasing him and seeing him get so pouty. 
"You know I don’t mean you.” 
His shoulder pushes your body lightly to the side and you chuckle together. It’s hard to prevent the red to rush to your cheeks, maybe he’ll mistake it for a faint sunburn. 
“That’s a cute helmet you got there.” 
Your eyes point to it as a way to distract him. 
“Oh, that?” 
He picks it up with what seems to be an embarrassed voice tone, but his actions quickly override it. He puts it on proudly and looks at you with his eyebrows raised, “my sister gave it to me when I bought the bike, gets all the ladies.” 
“I'm sure it does.” 
Attention from women he for sure gets, but probably not because of that thing. You didn’t get a proper look at him the other day, and now, standing next to him in broad daylight, you almost wish you could still live in the ignorance bliss of not knowing the exact height difference between you two. His tall, muscular, body is only enhanced by his tight blue t-shirt.  
“So, what are you doing around here?” 
His words make you realize you’ve been staring for a few seconds, and you look ahead hoping he didn’t notice. He forgets to remove the helmet, making you chuckle quietly before answering. 
“I just got off from work and thought it would be nice to take a different route home.” 
“That’s such a coincidence! I come here, like, almost every week to bike around.”  
“Wow, It really is.” 
For how long have you been avoiding this specific park for no reason? Pushing away your chance of meeting the one and only person you would’ve wanted to? 
A ping from his phone alerts the both of you, taking you out of your little bubble. 
“Sorry I-" His expression falls as he reads the new text, “I have to get going, but it was really nice seeing you!” 
"Oh, sure! I didn’t mean to hold you back.” It comes out quieter than you’d like. “Goodbye!” With a simple smile a tiny wave at him, you turn around. 
Right when he gets on his bike again, before he starts pedaling, he looks back at you, taking your first step in the opposite direction. 
“Wait!” When you turn around, he’s taking his phone out of his front pocket, “Can I get your number?” 
The both of you blush at his words, and you look up at him cautiously. 
“So we can catch up and, you know, get comfortable with each other for the wedding.” 
You had already forgot about that. The reason you even ran into him in the first place. 
“Sure!” 
Your hand trembles slightly when you take his phone and you beat yourself up for it. It’s just your number! It could mean nothing. 
“I’ll text you later so you can save mine.” 
And with a wink, he’s off to whatever he was late to. 
Great. Now you’re not only re-living your high-school anxieties, but also your high-school crushes. 
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sundrop-writes · 6 months ago
Note
would you be willing to do a follow up to the teen wolf pregnancy hcs? something with the characters interacting with their kid - can be as a baby or older - just them being parents and adjusting to being young parents.
i love your writing 💗💗💗
Fyi, I was not even planning on working on requests tonight, but this caught my attention so much and gave me such a good idea that I had to do it. I decided to do it with the same characters from the first part, but if you want to see this prompt with other characters, then I would do the 'how they react to finding out that you're pregnant' part first with different characters
My requests for Teen Wolf are OPEN, but please read my Rules before sending in a request.
Part One - How would they react to finding out that you're pregnant with their baby?
How would the pack act as parents?
Included: Stiles Stilinski, Isaac Lahey, Lydia Martin, and Derek Hale.
Warnings: fem reader - uses she/her pronouns and has the ability to get pregnant (she is the one who gave birth to the baby, as in the previous part); Stiles's part is extremely self indulgent and something I have been thinking about since I wrote the last part so bear with me; mentions of breastfeeding, giving birth, teething, and other parenting/baby topics; the baby is a different age and has a different name in each section just for funsies; mention of Lydia and reader's baby having red hair - but I did this to drive home the baby's genetic relation to Lydia and I don't think it has to specify the reader's race (someone with darker skin can still have naturally red hair); Lydia calls the reader 'Mama'; mention of the reader being a werewolf in Derek's part because there is a weird continuity in these reactions (and I should write a full fic about Derek and this reader character cause I am slowly becoming addicted to their story, ngl); I believe that's finally it.
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Stiles was panicking. He was officially the worst parent ever - everything his dad said was right. He wasn't ready for this, nobody should be a teen parent, he was a failure. God, his whole life was crumbling around him...
You were out of town because your sister was getting married. You had been incredibly hesitant to leave the baby - sweet, adorable, nine-month-old Lila Stilinski - but Stiles had insisted that you go on a weekend getaway to your sister's bachelorette party. You deserved it. You had spent nine whole months growing his baby and then you had given birth to her (a bloody, messy affair that made him faint - to nobody's surprise), and you had spent the last nine months nursing her and getting your degree from home after you had fought through your pregnancy taking double courses to graduate high school early. You were a gem, a beautiful, shining gem of a woman and a mother, and somehow - while you were off getting your much needed rest and having fun - Stiles had lost your baby.
His baby - his baby that he loved very, very much.
He had woken up that morning, late, having forgotten to set the alarm, and rushed around the apartment like a chicken with his head cut off rushing to get Lila ready for day care and himself ready for school, and he dropped her off as usual, with a smile and kiss on her big beautiful forehead. And when he went to pick her up that afternoon - she was gone. The day care worker couldn't give him any other news than the fact that she had been 'signed out already', and it left Stiles panicking, thinking about that cult that sacrifices babies every single day.
In his rush that morning, he had forgotten to charge his phone, so he couldn't get his dad on the line - and he was currently running at top, lung-crushing speed toward the police station, running past the deputy on duty at the front desk, who simply shrugged and buzzed him in when she saw his bright red face and his clear desperation.
"Dad, D-dad, you have to-!" He was going to ask his father to put out an amber alert, to call every single one of his deputies back to get them looking, but when his father turned around - that sweet girl with the bright purple bow in her hair was in his arms.
Then, Stiles shifted on a dime from panic to anger.
"Dad, what the hell?" He barked out, struggling to sound as pissed off as he was while still trying to catch his breath.
"What?" The Sheriff shrugged, kissing his granddaughter on the forehead before cooing brightly at her, smiling at her with all the brightness in the world, paying Stiles absolutely no mind.
"You took her out of day care without telling me first?" Stiles gaped, absolutely angered that his father had let him believe for even a moment that his girl was missing.
He knew it was a cruel irony - a blunt kind of karma. All the times he had come home late, all the nights he had snuck out believing that his dad was simply being too hard on him for giving him such an early curfew. Now, in a single crashing moment, he instantly understood why his father had worried so much - why he was so angry every single time Stiles was out of his sight, especially when there was danger around.
"Your phone was off." Noah shrugged, rocking Lila back and forth in his arms, giving her another kiss on the forehead as he began to hum the tune of a lullaby under his breath. "I got bored on my lunch break, and I wanted to see my baby, so what?"
It was the usual for him - any time he was within ten feet of her, she didn't have a moment in your arms or Stiles's. On the day she had been born, he had brought a giant gift basket to the hospital, grumbling under his breath about how he still thought it was 'irresponsible' of Stiles, but demanding to see 'his baby'.
He had burst into tears upon seeing Lila for the first time, and was deeply aggressive about who was allowed to visit and for how long. When she came home, he stood watch over her crib with his gun in hand for multiple days before he finally gave up and went to sleep (and according to you, he admitted quietly that he had done the same thing for Stiles when he first came home from the hospital).
"My phone died." Stiles stressed. "You could have left a note for me at the school or something. You gave me a freakin' heart attack."
"Be more responsible and charge it next time." The Sheriff grinned at him.
"Just - don't kidnap my daughter again!" Stiles snapped. "She is my daughter-" He argued, taking a possessive, protective stance.
"Yeah, well I made you, so I have certain rights when it comes to this little sweet girl." His father said, trailing off into a cooing baby voice as he began fawning over Lila once again. Stiles rolled his eyes. "Besides, ever since the three of you moved out, I hardly get to see my babygirl anymore."
Stiles felt a twinge of guilt at this, but wanted to argue. The three of you needed your own space, and you had moved into an apartment that was less than twenty minutes away from his father's house. He still saw Lila at least once every single day of the week, unless he was busy working.
"Dad-"
"Besides, it's not kidnapping if I'm the Sheriff."
"It is so kidnapping! It's kidnapping if I report you."
"Is it still considered an abortion if I terminate you now?" His father glared at him.
Stiles let out a huff.
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Isaac was tired. He knew that being a parent was going to be tiring, but in the six months since baby Leon had been born, this was his first full night alone with his son. His son who was teething, crying incredibly loudly, and in pain because of his little teeth coming in. He wasn't nearly as upset about the fact that he hadn't slept as he was about the fact that his son was in pain and he could do little about it.
He had considered calling you a few times throughout the night when Leon was letting out particularly harrowing cries and Isaac was on the verge of tears himself (especially considering with his heightened werewolf senses, the pain of those cries seemed to pierce through him even more) - but he had agreed to take care of Leon by himself to get him out of the house that you and your mother shared because you had been studying for the SATs and you needed sleep the night before your big exam. So as much as it pained him, he endured alone and ended up crying with his son while he sucked on a frozen teething toy with tears still running down his chubby cheeks.
The sun had come up a while ago and Leon had just fallen asleep, his portable crib set up in the middle of the loft so that Isaac could watch over him - his hair messy and his eyes bloodshot red as he stood at the counter, chugging down a cup of black coffee, trying his hardest to stay away until after your exam was over so that you could take Leon and he could have a nap.
He was not at all pleased when the door creaked open, seeming like the loudest thing ever - alerting him to the presence of Boyd entering the apartment.
"Hey, man-" Boyd greeted him in a usual bright tone, and Isaac cut him off with an abrupt hush. He put a finger to his lips and then motioned to the crib, and Boyd peeked over, nodding once he saw the baby. "You're on Daddy duty again?"
"It's not like it's a hobby or something," Isaac told him tiredly in a hushed tone. "I am a father now." Even with the tense whispering and the tired droop of his shoulders, there was a certain sense of pride in the way he said this.
"Well you-"
Isaac shushed him again, as Boyd speaking in his usual tone was far too loud for Isaac's liking.
"You know, he's gonna have to get adjusted to noise sooner or later." Derek piped up from his place on the couch, where Isaac had convinced him to sit and read a book until Leon had settled to sleep.
"Shh!" Isaac tried to hush Derek into silence, but he glared at Isaac and kept talking at his usual volume.
"Babies born into pack families are brought up co-sleeping, so they sleep through the noise of a dozen family members-"
Isaac crossed the room and put a hand against Derek's mouth, forcing him quiet this time.
"I don't care." Isaac insisted. "Nobody is going to wake up my son now that he is asleep."
"Stop touching me." Derek said, muffled against Isaac's hand.
Isaac backed off, and before Derek could speak up again, Leon woke with a high pitched wail.
"You guys have fun with that." Boyd said, taking this as his queue to leave.
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Lydia was overjoyed. Telling her parents about everything had been nothing short of a confusing nightmare, and after a lot of convincing from Melissa and Noah and a lot of questions without a lot of answers, they had both still been sceptical right up until you had given birth.
The moment they had laid eyes on a sweet newborn baby girl with bright red hair - they were convinced that against all odds, you and Lydia had made a baby together.
That was an entire year ago - and now, Lydia was having the utter pleasure of planning her beautiful Luna Harmony Martin's first birthday party. She was so perfectly in her element - picking out decorations, designing an utterly epic and fabulous birthday cake (including a separate, smaller smash cake that only her daughter would get to touch, because it was only the best for Luna), planning entertainment - a professional princess performer and some magicians (no clowns - Luna didn't need those kind of memories implanted in her psyche this early on), and the best part: picking out cute little dresses for the birthday girl to wear.
Much like her mother, she was a fashion icon, and she would likely need multiple outfit changes for her party - not just with the fact that she would get covered in cake or her own spit-up, but because a proper birthday girl should always be photographed in more than one ensemble.
You weren't surprised when Lydia came home with two large armfuls of shopping bags. You wanted to protest, to tell her that a one-year-old didn't need that many clothes that she wasn't even going to wear, but you knew that Lydia's parents weren't going to take away her credit card anytime soon (and when it came to spoiling the baby, they were even worse) and you also knew that this was one of her ways of showing your daughter love.
So when she came to sit on the cushy foam playmat with you and Luna, dropping the many shopping bags on the cough behind the two of you, you simply let it happen.
"Hello my sweet girl," Lydia said, greeting your daughter in a sweet voice as she kissed her chubby cheeks and pulled her into her lap. "And hello to you, Mama."
Mama. The nickname still made your stomach churn with heat - something that Lydia had gotten into calling you more lately after some rant about how Luna's 'speech centre' was 'rapidly developing' and she wanted to influence what the baby would call you.
You couldn't help but to grin as you kissed her too.
"I see you've been shopping." You said, motioning toward the bags.
"A bit." Lydia shrugged. "After I booked the carousel-"
"A carousel?" You questioned. "Lydia, she's a year old. She can't even ride carnival rides - she's not even going to remember any of this."
"It's for the photos. Obviously." Lydia sighed in return, rolling her eyes at you. "The theme of the party is Cotton Candy Princess, what kind of idiot would I be if I didn't include at least one classic carnival ride in my photos?"
"At this rate, she's gonna want a golden pony by the time she's five."
"Then she'll get one." Lydia cooed at Luna, kissing her cheeks again, smearing pink lipstick on her.
You couldn't help but to smile - you knew that this was Lydia's way of showing your daughter that to her, she was the most important little girl in the world.
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Derek was annoyed - not with his son, with you.
Since the moment he had found out that you were pregnant, Derek loved his son more than anything in the world. He loved you just as much, he had right from the moment he had slashed Peter's throat and then turned you where you were dying, bleeding out, and used his newfound Alpha powers to turn you in order to save your life. Because that was the moment he knew he would risk anything and everything in order to keep you alive.
He loved you very much, but he was still annoyed with you.
You were determined not to let Derek sleep with his son - a tradition as old as pack life itself, now being marred by you shoving articles in Derek's face about how co-sleeping was 'dangerous' and how the baby should have his own crib. A baby of only three months old should not be damned to isolation. It made Derek's heart ache just thinking about it. He was used to the comfort of your body - he was used to the sync of your heartbeat, the sound of his voice and Derek's constantly nearby. He shouldn't be off in the corner by himself. You had made Derek feel like some criminal, sneaking out of bed at one in the morning to pluck his son out of that damned crib in order to spend some time with him.
And now, Alexander was sleeping peacefully on his bare chest, skin to skin as nature intended, feeling the peace of his father's heartbeat as Derek dozed into a gentle sleep himself on the sofa himself. He was - until he heard the distinct squeak of the bed springs on your side, a distinct huff from you as you got out of bed.
"Derek," You sighed when you saw what he had done, crossing your arms over your chest - it was an entirely appealing sight; the incredibly small baby perched in the middle of his bare chest, so tiny against Derek's large, muscled frame. But it did make you worry - Alexander wasn't secured in any way - he could fall, he could roll off. Even though Derek was an incredibly capable, loving parent, even in the haze of sleep, he could roll over and crush the baby.
It scared you.
"What - are you gonna take him from me?" He glared at you, deep betrayal in his voice. It was clear that the only thing keeping him from raising his voice further was the restraint not to yell so close to the baby's ear. "Do you honestly think that I would hurt my son?"
You held back tears, hating how much the insinuation clearly pained Derek.
"Never." You told him, your own tears choking your throat. "Derek, I know that you would never hurt him intentionally. But-"
"Exactly." He replied, cutting you off. "And there is nothing that will harm him. I am not going to let it happen."
You sighed, putting a hand to your forehead in frustration.
Derek shook his head, sitting up, putting a hand against Alexander's diapered bum to support him - able to hold nearly the entirety of his tiny body with one hand.
"Didn't you notice that all of those articles you read are written by humans?" He pointed out. "This is something that my family has done for generations. Our senses are honed for stuff like this. The moment that a baby is born, we sleep differently. Haven't you noticed?"
You had noticed - you felt like you had been sleeping with only half your brain, like a shark. You thought it was something your mother had warned you about, how you would never get a full night's rest again after having a baby. But it felt different. You did wake up rested, but you didn't dream anymore. You felt conscious nearly the entire time you were asleep - hyper aware of everything, your body responsive to every single coo, every little noise the baby made. You became hyper aware of the rhythm of his heartbeat while you slept, often using it as a white noise machine while you laid there.
"Yeah." You admitted - Derek gave you a subtle smug grin, and nodded.
"I'm not going to hurt him, not even by accident - because I can't." Derek told you firmly. "I will wake up the minute he cries, and I won't shift in my sleep. And this is healthy for us. Our heartbeats will sync up and this will help him sleep better. Please, just trust me on this."
Derek rarely pleaded with you about things, rather than outright telling you - so you knew that this mattered to him greatly.
"Yes. I trust you." You told him. "Come back to bed?" You posed. "All of us in the same bed."
He smiled, and leaned in to kiss you before he got up off the couch, bringing your son with him.
(When you woke up the next morning, the crib was smashed to pieces, and Derek - who was in the kitchen making breakfast with Alexander still pressed to one shoulder - claimed that he had no idea how it happened.)
...
Teen Wolf Masterlist
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mattykay · 7 months ago
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Five Hargreeves x M/GNReader Headcanons
(that no one asked for but in honor of the trailer!)
We got both smut and the works in here so yk the drill
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~ General Hc ~
- Honestly, when Five meets you he's a little surprised. During the apocalypse he had Delores so he didn't really think to entertain any ideas of liking men, until you.
- He's honestly a pretty firm bisexual. He prefers to be dominant in his relationships and do the more care. He will melt into you the first time he lets you take care of him though.
- Very big on gifts and gentle words. He'll whisper compliments to you if his siblings are around, to save himself the teasing.
- Skin care freak. I'm strong on this. He takes really good care of not only his skin but his hair and his body. He spent forty five years all dirty in the apacolypse and will always make you wash your face. Morning and night.
- He has a hidden love for babies. He knows he can't have one because he'll be too old mentally when his body can have one but he likes taking care of them. He will say they're weird if asked though.
- Everything about Five is generally very pristine. His pajamas always match, his clothes are always nicely hung and ironed.
- On that topic, he does that for you too. Suddenly your closets full of nicely ironed and lint rolled clothes.
- A big time cat guy. He didn't really understand them for a while because they didn't have used like dogs. But when he finds one to love himself.. game over.
~ Smut ~
- For M readers: Honestly, he's a switch. He will say he's a top but once, a very rare once in a while, he will let you top. He's nervous about being penetrated but when he learns to relinquish control, he's down bad.
- He won't let you degrade him or call you daddy but he will let you fuck him nearly into another time line. He's the kind of guy to just start making those "Uh- Uh- Uh-" Sounds with every thrust. Cock or strap too, he doesn't care.
- Okay, back to more GN stuff: He will degrade you. No questions asked.
- He can fuck. It's the only way to say it, he just can. He can and he will. Fast and hard or slow and intimate. He'll go and go.
- He really does strive for your pleasure. Even when he claims that he's just fucking you to use you, you're his everything and he'll care for you hours after.
I hope you guys like this- could be totally self indulgent butttt it don't matter
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tthoughtdaughter · 10 months ago
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bad habits.
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pairing: dealer!ellie x reader.
summary: when you were a kid you had always put a pillow or a big stuffed animal between your legs, you honestly felt comfort by it. but tonight you decided it was going to be somebodies head.
warnings: uh widely ellie giving head?, use of drugs, girls kissing 🤯, swearing, a little bit of dacryphilia, pretty self-indulgent i know its weird im sorry — MINORS DNI !!
a/n: just because the strikes ended does not mean you shouldnt stop posting about palestine!
———————
you were helpless, depressed even. being locked up in your dorm for god knows how long. your friends had been nagging you about various parties on campus, you simply just left them on read, not wanting to deal with the aftermath of the party.
it wasnt until now that you had decided to go. not because you wanted to, you were going against your own will.
your friends, isabella, mattie and thea were forcing you out of your dorm because the state you were in right now was just honestly disgusting.
you were packing a bag to go over to isabellas house because they werent letting you stay in that dorm for a minute more, when thea said. “youve been stuck in here for forever, we havent seen you in awhile, we miss you girl.”
you sighed, reaching over to your closet to find an outfit appropriate for tonight. “look i know, things just havent been the best right now.” you didnt bother to look back because you know all thats going to be written on their faces will be pity.
“can you guys help me pick an outfit atleast?” they squeal, marching over to you before yanking you out of their ways.
mattie held up a dress, it was pink, delicate, something you would were on a picnic.
“dude, thats so basic.” isabella called out from the side, rolling her eyes at matties choice.
“i dont wear stuff like this— how would i fucking know?” she huffed.
“calm down guys, why dont we let ms depresso give us an idea of what she wants?” thea shouts over the teo annoyingly loud girls.
“i— depresso? seriously? not even funny.” you roll your eyes before pulling up pinterest on your phone, you always managed to find decent outfits off of the app.
you typed in ‘party outfits aesthetic.’ before you landed on something similar you had in your closet.
the outfit had a mini, mini, mini, mini black skirt paired with a black lettuce-cut, corset bralette looking thingy and just below that, knee-high boots. you admit it, you looked hot as fuck.
“damn girl, if i were gay id definitely hit you up.” way to go isabella, way to go.
“oh please youre totally into girls, youre acting like you dont eye that dina girl everytime we walk around her area on campus.” mattie adds.
isabella did everything in her will power to ignore the comment, but she couldnt help but blush.
the look of approval shot around the room was hilarious and you all burst out into laughter. you really havent felt this good in awhile.
quickly memorising the girl mattie had mentioned before, you could remember she would always be hanging around with someone else.
“hey, any of you know the girl dina hangs with? i cant think of her name.” you think hard, like really hard, you knew the girl was attractive from all the times you had seen her since isabella coincidentally hung there too.
“yeah, her names ellie, i buy from her sometimes. why, you got the hots for her?” thea teases.
“just shut up and give me her insta.” you roll your eyes, playfully shoving the girl as the two others made ‘oooooh’ sounds.
“fine, just give me a second.” thea whips out her phone and starts going through her following. she clicks on a profile and holds the phone up to you so you could get a good look.
her account was private, by the looks of it she had a batman smoking weed profile picture? interesting.. her user was ‘@ellieisawesome327.’
sounds like a name some 5 year old would put on secretly. “oh, interesting.” you couldnt help but giggle, she obviously wasnt the best at using this stuff.”
you pulled out your phone and searched for her user, you didnt follow it just yet, you thought it would be creepy since she didnt know you at all. you simply just kept the name in the search bar, ready for when you actually want to follow her.
———————
a few hours had passed and you all had gotten done up, makeup, hair, outfits, everything you would do before a party.
“whos car we taken’?” mattie asked. you and the others looked at her like she was some idiot.
“theres only one car in the driveway, take a guess numbskull?” thea pointed out, mattie pouted.
“rude.” she huffed. turning around to scroll on tiktok.
you were sitting on the bed, getting comfy since the party wasnt for another hour, when you spotted one of isabellas pillow. you had put it between your legs, you found some comfort in doing that ever since you were a kid, it was a weird and bad habit.
“whatre ya’ doin silly?” isabella pointed out, she sort of new you had this weird habit of putting things between your legs.
“getting comfy, what does it look like?” you roll your eyes, scrolling through your instagram feed.
“if you actually want something between your legs, try and get head tonight.” isabella added. it was a harmless joke, your group had always joked like this. you toned out the muffled giggles in the back thinking if you should actually get laid tonight.
it had been awhile since you had had sex, and it was getting annoying hearing everyones ‘wild’ stories.
you tool the pillow out from between your legs and threw it back into its position it was in before.
“you guys think we should get going? the parties in twenty minutes.” thea said. you all nodded and got up from your positions to march off to the car.
the drive was ten minutes, you put on your group playlist, it was made for roadtrips you guys took every once and awhile. but tonight you just needed to hear something other then their voices.
you were all vibing to the music when it eventually came to a stop. you sighed and got out of the car, shivering as the cold wind hit your very exposed body.
everyone walked in, it wasnt exactly packed, but you hesitated and mattie noticed that.
mattie was the average femme grouped masc. the one to carry around the shopping bags when you went shopping kind of girl. she was sweet, there were times where you had found yourself harmlessly crushing over her. she knew you had a bit of anxiety and offered you some of her meds before leaving but you kindly declined.
now obviously regretting your decision, she gripped onto your hand and squeezed it tight, for reassurance. you smiled and walked in with the others.
———————
it had been 2 hours and the group had split, isa probably off eating dinas face off, mattie chatting with some of the guys from a basketball team she had played against when faking being a guy as a dare, and thea off buying or even selling drugs. you were sat on a dusty old couch, not exactly wasted but definitely not sober.
you hadnt noticed you were sitting next to the girl whos instagram you were stalking earlier. but the realisation hit when you smelt weed from her direction.
she was very obviously eye fucking you, she wasnt even shy about it, it couldve been the weed that was in her system or she was wildly bold.
“hey?” you started off your soon long to be conversation.
“hi.” she was caught off guard when she realised you were talking to her.
“ellie right?” she nodded and you exchanged your name to her, along with numbers. you sat back further into the couch, parting your legs a little giving her a slight view of what was under you skirt. you enjoyed the fact that she was looking. a little smirk appeared on your face and she didnt notice it.
“my friend thea buys from you right?” she snapped her head up to look into your eyes. you noticed the green in her eyes under the blue hue of the lights in the room. she nodded,
“yeah why? wanna buy from me?” you shook your head.
“kinda tight on money right now, i would though.” you sighed, resting your head on your hand.
she thought for a minute. “ill share a blunt with you, only coz’ youre cute.” she winked and you blushed.
“oh, thanks..” you stare off awkwardly waiting for her to light it, she was wondering if she made you uncomfortable.
“s—sorry, didnt mean to make you uncomfortable.” you shook your head a smiled before she handed you the joint.
you took a puff and handed it back to her, waiting a bit before exhaling. you noticed she was manspreading. then you noticed she didnt quite look like any other girls that were at the party, very masculine. is she lesbian? no surely not, maybe she just likes being comfortable.
ellie was wearing a worn-out jacket, joels. she wore it everywhere she went.
she caught you staring at the position she was in, fighting the urge to spread them further. you noticed she was holding back from something and looked up at her, oh shit she caught you.
a shit eating grin was plastered on her face. “you ‘kay?” she asked, the same smug expression written all over her face.
you nodded and took the blunt out of her hand. you were blushing under the dim lights in the corner, the rest of the place was filled with colourful lights changing every second.
she started blushing too, she didnt know why. you looked up to her with parted lips. the high kind of kicking in now.
“can i.. kiss you?” you asked softly. you regretted that so hard, fuck fuck fuck she probably doesnt like girls..
she moved closer, draping a hand over your shoulder. “thought youd never ask.” she smirked before smashing her lips onto yours.
the kiss was hungry, like she was desperate for something, you couldnt quite place your tongue on it. the only thing placed on your tongue right now was hers. you kissed her back with just as much passion.
the moans you let out were absolutely pornographic. ellie knew she had to do something about this, stopping the kiss whilst you let out a whine from the lack of attention.
you were borderline wet, like waterpark wet, and it wasnt helping that you were wearing a flimsy skirt that had rode up in the process.
“cmon’ princess.” she took your hand, you felt a bit clumsy for some reason, dizzy, your head was foggy, only thinking about how good she tasted.
you followed her around as she knocked on various locked rooms. finally breaking one open, she slammed it shut, locking it and pressing you up against it. not to hard though, wouldnt wanna hurt your pretty little head.
“fuck, youre so goddamn hot.” she mumbled between kisses. you couldnt help but moan at how turned on she made you feel.
she pushed her knee up between your thighs and you shivered, grinding down onto it. chasing the very needed friction.
you wondered how such an innocent question like ‘can i kiss you?’ turned into you riding on her knee.
“els’, please..” that shit eating grin reappeared on her face and you just wanted to smack it right off, you rolled your eyes. your words and wetness only boosted her ego more.
“please what baby?” she teased. why was she teasing you? you couldnt take it. tears started bubbling in your eyes.
“please just— fuck me.” you mumble out. she liked the sight of you crying, so desperate for her. she was going to tease you more before you actually got what you wanted.
“what was that?” she smirked.
you looked up at her through teary eyes. “can you, uh— go down on me? please?” you were begging, that was a sight.
she pulled you over to the bed, through the dimly light room. “strip.”
you did as she said, it wasnt hard to take off your clothes since there was barely anything on you. first your top, leaving you in a skimpy black lacy bra to match your underwear. then came the boots and skirt.
finally, leaving you in a two piece set. she was waiting patiently for you to take them off. you dont know why you were so hesitant, maybe it was because you hadnt done this in awhile, or maybe it was because her stare was so intense it made your stomach do flips, distracting you from the easy task.
she walked over to help you since you couldnt finish what you had started. “d’ you want this?” you nodded painfully slow.
she peeled off your underwear, holding them up to get a good look before back down to your now bare cunt. it was dripping at the sight of her.
“s’ wet for me princess.” she smirked once more, if she smirked anymore her face would probably get stuck like that.
then came the bra, she asked you to turn around so she could unclip it, she was slightly struggling since she wasnt used to these fancy bras, only because she wears a sports bra.
you giggled and reached your arms behind you to take it off, turning around to leave her ogling at the sight of you.
“youre so beautiful.” you blushed, hard. she looked up at you for some sort of reassurance and you nodded.
a minute ago she was so dominant and now shes sweeter than a cookie. you adored that.
she reached her hands out to cup your tits, so soft, she thought. squeezing them and pinching your now hardened, pebbled nipples.
she elicited a moan out of you. you sat back on the bed for comfort and she dived into them. sucking harshly on your tits.
you couldnt tell if you hated it or loved it, your monas were telling her otherwise.
she left purple marks all over your neck, tits, stomach, anywhere she could mark really. you were huffing, all you needed her to do was touch you down there.
“patience baby.” she replied to your subtle huffs. you rolled your eyes, pleading with your body language as you rolled your hips into nothing.
her head moved down slowly, taking time with your body as if you werent some one night stand. did she actually like you?
she kissed all over your stomach and you felt giddy, you were giggling at how it tickled.
the she dipped her head low, taking in how soaked you were. the whole time you had been rubbing your thighs together. any subtle touch made you go crazy.
she fully dived in, and you moaned her name out, loud enough to here over the booming music. “e-els!” she teased your clit with her tongue, licking a stripe down, giving your clit kitten kisses.
her tongue reached places your fingers couldn’t surprisingly. you couldnt stop panting. it felt like heaven.
your vision was going blurry, white, if the coil in your belly bubbled anymore it was going to snap. “ellie.. i—im gonna!..” she moaned into your pussy, sending hypnotising vibrations into it.
“i know baby, come for me.” those words was the thing that snapped the bubbling coil.
you felt hot slick pool out of you, she lapped up all she could, almost overstimulating you. you were panting.
she got up and laid beside you, toying with your plush tits. you could almost fall asleep right then and there.
“alright,” she patted your thigh. “i gotta get going, heres my number though.” she pulled out a random piece of paper from her pocket and a pen. had she been preparing for this? you thought. she handed you the note like a little kindergartener and put her shirt back on.
you had the sudden urge to shove a pillow between your legs, whining from the loss. you fought back everything in you to shove the pillow that was staring at you between your legs. you watched ellie leave,
she left you on the bed looking back at you to smile before closing the door behind you. you eventually got up and put your clothes on, walking over to the bathroom that was in the small room to fix up your hair and makeup.
you realised your hand was still clutching that little piece of paper. you looked at it and read it slowly, still regaining composure.
‘**** **** **** **** message me ;) x’
you probably werent going to message her, but just incase, you slipped the note into your purse and walked out of the room going to look for you friends to take them home, luckily ellie had sobered you up.
———————
a/n: im sorry the ending actually sucks i was getting sick of this and i needed to get it out of my drafts. should i turn it into a series were reader actually messages ellie? idk.
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spinji · 3 months ago
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It's weird to me seeing so many people surprised over Billdip shippers that liked/made young twink Bill art are now the same ones shipping Billford and liking and making art of Bill as an old man. Literally the definition of "growing up with your tastes".
Billford is everything i wanted from Billdip but more canonized (and old), basically. I still have a lot of fondness from that time.
I do agree with the people that consider shipping Billdip in the early days as self indulgent and self insertive. I was also one of those people that was first exposed to the series around Dipper's age and I would be lying if my affinity for the pairing didn't have some element of self shipping with Bill. This is why a lot of people made this jump to a pairing that better reflects their maturity level while maintaining that enjoyment of Bill. I think that's part of the secret sauce that makes the new Billford content to compelling to long-term fans; on top of it being chillingly well written.
Where I chafe against this discussion is how dismissive the tone tends to be when bringing this up. People say they used to ship Billdip as if they're talking to a pastor about their sins in order to cover their ass and sound more desirable to the greater internet.
To me Billdip and Billford have very similar but distinct energies, one holding a lot more weight and tragedy while the other is chaotic and tense. There might be a lot in common with your new best worst thing and your old toxic ex but they're still different experiences and they're facinating dynamics in both cases.
My whole point in comparing the two is that you don't have to be scared of what you did in fandom a decade ago. If your tastes have changed, that's fine, and very normal, but a quick turn that anyone still drawn to Billdip is a disgusting predator is just cowardice. As if the crazy people will care if it's older because it's still an unhealthy and unbalanced dynamic with an immortal, immoral monster.
Do I prefer Billford to Billdip now? Yes! But I shipped them both back then and I ship them both now.
Do I prefer the Billford fandom to the Billdip fandom? Hell no. Because some of you really can't pull the stick out of your ass and realize that you are living proof that fiction doesn't directly mirror your personality. You shipped Billdip and you're fine, so quit lying and saying everyone else is a monster for doing the same.
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maxislvt · 1 year ago
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Succubus Season
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pairing(s): succubus! wanda maximoff x reader, brief natasha romanoff x reader
summary: Just when your life starts to come together, life throws another curve ball at you. Except this time it isn't a bully or a shitty English teacher. This curve ball is seven feet tall with horns and a lot of pent-up sexual energy.
warnings: jealousy, possessive thoughts/behavior, AMAB!Reader, dom!Wanda, sub!Reader, anal sex, anal fingering, prostate milking, overstimulation, cum eating, size kink (she's 7 feet tall)
a/n: Idk this is a tad self indulgent but it's Fine because it's sexy
Event Masterlist
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
Adulthood came with many struggles. You made it through high school, your poor budgeting habits, and you're currently pushing your way through medical school. It wasn't easy, but your determination and pride got you through it. Now you were one step further into adulthood by owning a house. No more roommates or weird landlords. Just your own space with no one else in it.
However, you hit an unexpected bump in the road.
Moving in seemed harder than doing all the paperwork. At first, you blamed it on how far you were moving. Some of your friends were kind enough to drive anywhere from 2 to 15 hours to help you move. It was possible they were tired and didn't consider how strenuous moving was. Then things got a little bit odd. You couldn't leave a room unattended for more than half an hour without someone getting some sort of freak injury. Luckily it was nothing worse than little cuts or bruises.
Oddly, fixing up the garage proved to be the hardest part. Bucky got sent to the hospital over a spider bite. Steve's asthma suddenly kicked up — though part of that was his fault considering everyone told him it'd be a bad idea to clean a dusty room without an inhaler. A lot of them had been overcome with mysterious illnesses and your team was getting smaller and smaller.
Eventually, it was down to just you and Tony.
All that was left to do was fix your janky garage door and the god-awful cabinets. It should've been a simple job. Replacing a few doors and fixing up some gears. Unfortunately, it turned out to be nearly impossible.
"God, this stupid fucking drill." You grumbled while trying to loosen the screws holding the cabinet door together. Tool malfunctions were another thing hindering your progress. One toolbox to fix the whole house wasn't entirely effective, but the finicky handles and rather disagreeable drill bits weren't making it any better. "Son of a bitch, these cabinet doors are hideous anyways!" After another failed attempt at removing the screw, you slam the tool on the countertop with a frustrated grunt. You slammed it a bit too hard against the counter because the sound shook the whole garage.
The old gears in your garage door creaked and shook before suddenly turning to drop the door.
"Tony, look out!" You shouted before running over to catch the door. The metal door slammed down hard on your shoulder blades. "Ah, shit!" You hissed out. It took all your strength to push the door back up. "Fuck, are you okay?" You asked Tony while rubbing your bruising shoulder blades.
Tony stared up at the garage door before getting up. He anxiously cleared his throat. "Well, if that doesn't open my eyes to my old age, I don't know what will." His shaky hands smooth out his shirt before grabbing his tools. "Yeah kid, I think I'm gonna call it a day after that." An unusually shaky sigh fell from his lips as he hugged you.
You looked up at the garage door. It needed to be fixed, but nothing physical was worth the life of a friend. "Um..yeah you do that. I'll just fix it my-"
"Don't do that," Tony interrupted, knowing your history with home repair.
A grimace overtook your features, but you knew Tony was right. "Okay, I won't fix it myself. I'll try and find some company to do it." You patted Tony on the back. He wasn’t the most tan friend you had, but you'd never seen him so pale before. "We should get you a drink before letting you head home."
With that, you were down to just yourself.
Your shoulders were in too much pain for you to keep working so you called it a day. Eight o'clock was a bit early for you, but you were much too shaky to do anything else. After a quick shower and some pain cream on your shoulder blades, you called it a day. Pain and warm water turned out to be the perfect combination for sleep.
"Release me…"
You shot up and immediately looked around the room. No one else was in your room. You weren't sure if it was real, but there were goosebumps on your skin and the hairs on your neck wouldn't lay down. As scary as it was, you decided you must've left the TV on up front and ignored it.
The next morning you're a bit jarred but ready to spend the weekend cleaning.
You looked around the garage to see what you had left to do. The garage door was off-limits and you were beyond frustrated with the cabinets in there. Just when you thought it'd be a simple work day, you noticed a hatch on the roof. Odd, you don't remember there being an attic on the room list when you bought the house.
You shrugged and jumped up to bring down the step ladder. The creaking underneath your feet meant it was time for the wood to be replaced, but you decided to prioritize exploration. Which turned out not to be the best idea.
"What the fuck!?" The words slipped out before you could even think. You looked around the attic. Chalk lines drawn out to make a magical symbol that you weren't even going to pretend you understood. There were more symbols carved into the wall. In the middle of it all, there was a small table. You weren't crazy enough to step towards it but you could see a jar filled with some mysterious liquid surrounded by other magical trinkets you didn't want to touch. "...Well, I guess that's what I get for buying a three-bedroom house for less than 100,000," You whispered as you climbed down the ladder.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
Now that you were terrified of your garage, you decided to focus on the less haunted part of your house.
It was a pain in the ass to move furniture and boxes by yourself, but better than a bunch of mysterious dead friends. After about a month or so, you were finally satisfied with the state of your house. The once barren walls were now filled with photographs and pairings. Long gone was the feeling of emptiness. It was your space now.
"Let me out, detka, please."
Oh, and the space of whatever freaky demon that was occupying that jar in your attic. Ignoring it was becoming harder. What started as the occasional whisper in your sleep turned into uncomfortably realistic wet dreams and a lot of ruined underwear. Now you could feel it hovering over you.
Tonight was the worst of it. Sensual kisses along the column of your neck pulled you in and out of sleep. Its hands were abnormally adventurous too. A less sleep-deprived version of yourself would've questioned the kisses on your neck, but your lack of sleep had left you a tiny bit delusional. One particular rough kiss finally woke you up properly.
The pain made you jolt up. "Fuck, you're having fun with this." You whisper despite the fact you're not sure it was listening. Your sleep shorts are stained with precum and you're painfully erect. A heavy sigh fell from your lips. "God, I hope you don't turn out to be some evil murder demon." The walk to your garage felt incredibly long. Each step added to the knot in your stomach. It was a miracle you didn't vomit by the time you stood underneath the hatch.
Your body moved as if it weren't your own. Awkward and clunky, but desperate to reach a goal you weren't too keen on. Once the ladder dropped back down your fate was sealed. You climbed up into the attic and stumbled towards the table.
For a moment just looked at the jar. Then you started laughing. "God, I am losing my mind. What is this stuff anyways, some disgusting old jam?" You scuffed with unwarranted confidence as you opened the jar.
It was not jam. Nor was it jelly or some other kind of preserve.
It was a seven-foot-tall demon. She had tinted red skin and two sets of horns sticking out of her head. You could see serrated teeth and an uncomfortably long tongue behind plum lips. You couldn't see them since they were above your head and you weren't going to risk looking away from it, but you could tell that it had claws.
The only thing keeping you from screaming your head off was not wanting to deal with a noise complaint in the morning.
"So um, can you put in on rent or are you just gonna bum out in my attic?"
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
Wanda lived on Earth for thousands of years and never had she met a human more determined than you were. At first, she blamed your disinterest on her demonic form, but not even her human form could take your eyes off whatever project had taken up your time. Your focus was admirable, but Wanda was starting to get hungry.
So she decided to be more upfront about her needs.
Today, the only thing between her and a proper meal was a book. One you'd been reading for nearly an hour, but it was easier to take your attention away from that than it was from work.
Wanda laid down on your stomach and looked up at you with the softest, most desperate eyes she could muster. "I know this might come off as too much, but I'm really hungry...I just need a little something to get me through the day." Her eyes carefully watched your facial expression. Your eyebrows furrowed and your lips turned down.
"Oh, you must be starving."
Wanda was expecting a more sympathetic tone, but you said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
You quickly marked your page in the book and laid it down on the coffee table. "Wait right here, I'll make you something good." Part of you felt like one of those evil landlords on Reddit. You were making her pay rent but she didn't feel comfortable eating. "I have some snacks in the cabinets if you're really hungry. Help yourself to whatever."
Her fingers twitch. It's not what she wanted, but she found herself tempted. "It's fine, I can wait," She whispered. Succubi shouldn't get nervous. Wanda's hands reached out and held your waist. The benefit of being a succubus is that Wanda knows you won't deny her. Her fingers slipped underneath your shirt just to feel the softness of your skin. "What are you cooking?"
The question confused Wanda. She'd never cared about a human beyond a desire to feed off of them, but you were different. She was desperate to know more about you. Wanda wanted you in a way that she'd never wanted a human before. Thoughts of jealousy began stirring in her heart. As her fingertips explored the softness of your skin.
It didn't take long for that desire to evolve into something more deviant. Wanda found herself hating the physical space between you and her. She found herself disappointed she couldn't be inside you. As adorable as human fragility was, she couldn't stand the fact she couldn't be closer. Wanda needed to be under your skin and next to your still-beating heart. A hoodie could only make up for that half the time.
It wouldn't be much longer before she'd have to feed from you. Only you.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
It was embarrassing to admit as a succubus, but Wanda had officially gone multiple months without feeding from anyone. To rub salt in the wound, the one person she wanted to feed from seemingly had no issue sleeping around.
You were always talking up some girl and brought a new one home every other week. That was bad enough on its own, but you were always kind enough to make them breakfast or wash their clothes before sending them off. And once they were gone, you were right back by Wanda's side like nothing happened. Like you didn't just manage to play with the feelings of a succubus and send her into a jealous spiral.
Your latest adventure seemed to get under her skin like no one else before. This mysterious redhead had done quite a number on you. Dark red and purple bruises littered your neck and shoulders and you could barely stand upright. If you hadn't bashfully shooed her away, Wanda wouldn't have had a problem helping. Of course, your little fling was there to save the day.
"I didn't think you'd be able to walk after all that," The woman said with an amused tone. She sauntered up behind you and wrapped her arms around your waist. Her chin rested on top of your head. "You sure you don't want me to finish those up for you? I'm a little worried you're gonna collapse on me."
You squirmed in Natasha's grasp as her fingers traced along the top of your waistband. "Y-yeah, it's fine Natasha. Just go watch TV or something…" The blush on your face is almost hot enough to cook the eggs. You don't even remember the last time someone made you this bashful. It was new. "I appreciate your offer though," You mumbled, unsure how to carry on the conversation.
"You're still shy even after last night?" Natasha asked teasingly. Her fingertips slipped into your boxers but didn't move much further past the waistband. She pushed her hips against your ass just enough for you to feel the pressure. "I think I like being right here, just like this." She whispered into your ear. Her eyes looked off to the side with a knowing smirk.
The whole scene made Wanda sick with jealousy. Her stomach churned every time you laughed at one of Natasha's jokes. Succubus couldn't throw up, but she. would've already. You were hers even if you didn't know it yet.
⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆
You felt like you were going mad.
It was getting harder to suppress your attraction to Wanda. You wish you could blame it on her interest in human clothes or all the cuddling, but neither of those was the problem. It was all your perverted tendencies. Every time Wanda crossed your mind it was always something sexual. These thoughts weren't brief either. Once you started one of your sick little fantasies, it was hard to stop. You were washing 20 pairs of underwear a week with how much precum you were leaving.
Your growing relationship with the demon only made things more complicated. Wanda seemed to become more physically affectionate by the day. Her human form was cute but it was her natural form that seemed to be giving you the most trouble. The shock of meeting a demon for the first time had worn off and you began to notice the small details. If your dick would appreciate them as well.
The only thing it seemed to care about was how big Wanda was. Especially when she was using you as her body pillow. The softness of her breast pressed against your chest and it was driving you mad. You were so focused on not getting a boner that you completely drowned out the noise from the movie.
As fun as watching you squirm and wiggle, Wanda had waited long enough.
She sat up on your lap, straddling your hips with her thighs. Wanda's hand slipped underneath your shirt to keep you pinned to the couch. Her claws lightly scratched at the sensitive skin. "It's cute you think I can't tell how turned on you are right now." A satisfied chuckle escaped her lips as you sucked your breath. "Don't think I haven't heard all those nasty little thoughts in your heads."
Your eyes followed Wanda's fingers nervously. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me!" She toyed with the hem of your shorts. You were at a loss for words. It wasn't like you could deny your feelings with your dick hard as a rock. “I know we’re like roommates, but we don’t have to do anything!” Embarrassment wasn't good enough to describe how you were feeling. You wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and disappear.
Wanda ripped off your shorts in one swift motion. “Oh detka, I want to be something more than just roommates.” Her long tongue licked the precum oozing from your neglected tip. It left a savory taste in her mouth that she couldn't help but enjoy. “God you don’t know how hard it was to live knowing you were wasting this stuff on girls who couldn’t make you feel half as good as I do.” Her free hand massaged your balls as she took your length inside her mouth. They weren’t as full as she would’ve liked them to be, but Wanda knew she would have access to them whenever she wanted them. Self-control was quickly flying out the window. Her hunger was starting to take over and she no longer had it in her to go slow for your sake. Wanda needed your cum and she needed a lot of it. “Do you know the best part of having sex with a succubus?”
The pleasure alone had your head spinning. “W-what?” It wasn’t a response to her question, but rather a moment of shock at Wanda’s confession. You weren’t well versed in the land of demons, but you didn’t think Wanda was anything like that. Was she gonna eat you? Maybe you should’ve asked more questions rather than worrying about her paying rent.
Her hand wrapped around your dick and began stroking slowly. She leaned forward to whisper in your ear. “I know exactly how to fuck you senseless.” Wanda hooked your legs over her shoulders. This time, Wanda's tongue went straight for your asshole. She watched your eyes roll to the back of your head with a satisfied smirk. No one's ever fucked you this way. It's almost impossible for her tongue fuck you the way she'd like but your whining makes up for it.
You're a mess. It felt like your insides were melting, but you were too overstimulated to even consider pushing back. You were usually the one on top and doing all the teasing. Now it was near impossible for you to speak without moaning and stumbling over your own words. "F-fuck, I'm close. Please don't stop, I'm gonna cum!" Your hands grabbed Wanda by her horns and pulled her closer to your ass.
Wanda hummed against you. You looked so cute when you were desperate to cum. She pushed your shirt up to your chest and signaled for you to hold it up. Of course, you do it without question. That mindless obedience would get you far. Wanda's tongue pressed down against your prostate. Milking you was a bit much for your first time doing anal, but Wanda wasn't going to hold back.
You couldn't even speak. It was just a string of desperate moans in place of words. The knot in your stomach bubbled up and snapped suddenly. Cum shot out of you in sticky, hot ropes. Your orgasm was almost never ending. Every time you thought it was over, she'd keep pushing you.
Wanda kept milking you until you'd gone soft. Her tongue slipped out of your hole. She wasted no time licking up the cum dripping down your chest and stomach. A deep, guttural moan escaped her lips at the taste of your cum. Her eyes glowed a deep red for a brief second. Wanda looked into your eyes and smirked. "I never want to see you with anyone else. Got it?"
You looked into her eyes and suddenly felt so tired. It was like a trance. There were a lot of questions going through your mind but you were too weak to ask any of them. "Got it." Was the only thing you could manage to say.
Wanda affectionately scratched your head. You were like a pet to her. "Let's get you cleaned up," She kissed your cheek before lifting you up and taking you to your bedroom.
You were grateful for her immense strength and gentleness. There was no way you'd be able to walk all the way to your room after that. You only vaguely heard Wanda's request that you not fall asleep while she prepared a bath for you. As tired as you were, there was something subconsciously urging you to stay awake as she requested. You rolled over slowly when Wanda returned from the bathroom. "Are you like…in my head forever now?" You asked sleepily.
Your question caught Wanda off guard. She didn't answer your question at first. Instead, she rolled you onto your stomach. It was only then that she had the answer to your question. "It appears so." She said calmly. Her fingers traced the tattoo now permanently etched into your skin. "Don't worry, I'll be kind to you..if you behave."
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starsworldd · 11 months ago
Text
Solar Observations pt. 7
readings are open! ⛓️
please take with a grain of salt ⛓️
I used orbs of 3 degrees for aspects from whole signs ⛓️
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👾 some of my best sr years have been the years where i’ve had the same sr venus as my natal
👾 looking at the persona chart of your profected year lord can give you a lot of insights for the year ahead i’ve found
👾 chiron on the mc (both solar or natal x solar) shows a year of yearning for something very badly (most likely to be career/goal/experience related)
👾 having positive mercury-saturn aspects (including conjunction depending on sign) is a year where you are on top of your shit, maybe you feel like you conversations with others are thwarted in some way but better than most you’re preparing for something bigger, plans, plans, PLANS!!
👾 saturn conjunct mercury is a really interesting aspect actually for a solar return. it maybe harder to categorize and to process the world around you in a productive way, but you may also learn new subjects/wisdom.
👾 having venus at 28 degrees can indicate an exciting love/crush/relationship happening for that year
👾 moon at 29 degrees can show that from that year on out you will approach life from a very different mindset to what you had before. this mindset can last for a year or your entire life but either way it’s an anaretic degree so BIG STUFF! the sign can show what mindset you’re “ending” (ex: i had moon at 29 degrees in taurus in 2020 and from that year on out i really prioritized productivity and worked to stop my lazy/indulgent habits)
👾 planets at 20 degrees and what house those planets are in can show what themes/events prove to be very mystical or witchy that year. (ex: i had mars and neptune at 20 degrees with mars in the 7th and neptune in the 11th and that year i got back with my old friend group out of random chance and went on my first date with someone from that group😭😭 not me telling you guys my life tea. dating within friend groups is weird and would not recommend btw! but to each their own🩷)
👾 planets at the 1st degree + their houses show where you’re ambitious and what you desire, expect lots of action in these areas
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👾 1st house ruler in 1st (aka your chart ruler in one of its domicile places) may mean that your by yourself or more alone, but most likely NOT in a bad way!! (self-care, self-improvement, reflection, etc…). check other houses that the planet rules to see what other important themes are emphasized that year (ex: libra venus in 1st house —> 8th house themes are important as well because taurus rules over the 8th)
👾 going off from the previous observation, planets in angular houses (1, 4, 7, 10) will ALWAYS be prominent throughout your year especially if they’re in domicile/exaltation/detriment/fall.
👾 a lot of celebrities have gotten big time famous the year where they had their 11th house in their 11th (ex: megan thee stallion, doja cat, billie eilish, etc…)
👾 just a tip, but make persona charts of your solar planets! if you don’t know how, go to astro.com, charts and calculations, extended chart selection, blue plus sign in the top right corner then fill out info from your solar return chart. after making this, click the “natal chart” tab, scroll down to “persona chart” :)
👾 jupiter/sagittarius in the 3rd or jupiter-mercury aspects show a lot of activity for the year ahead. fire/air = adventurous/fun activity, water/earth = self-growth/learning related (but arguably the themes can overlap), mercury in the third house is also indicative of a busy year!
👾 when i had mars in my natal 12th house last year i stayed up souper late almost every night regardless of weekend/weekday
👾 planets at 5 degrees show where there’s a lot of exciting things happening (ex: venus at 5 degrees -> lots of interesting meetups with friends, starting new hobbies, etc…, juno at 5 degrees -> partnerships open up new feelings of happiness, feeling loved, etc…). creds to @astrosky33 for this one!
👾 pay attention to the aspects made to your vertex for the year! and also what house the vertex falls in in your natal house. a couple years ago i had venus in my solar 4th trine my solar vertex in 8th conjunc turanus and was able to spend more time resting and doing fun things at home because unexpectedly (uranus) responsibilities/burdens placed upon me were lifted
👾 mars in the 12th house (including solar x natal) can show that you’re trying to break out of bad habits
👾 moon in fire signs can show a time of unrest or lots of physical activity at home, you have a lot of energy to do activities whether they’re serious activities or not
💜🤍💜🖤💜🤍💜🖤💜🤍💜🖤💜
hope you enjoyed!
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