#also this is not not at all a hint to the ending of tell me your lies

[sceletaflores]

SINK IN ME WITH YOUR DOG TEETH!

ೃ⁀➷ pair: logan howlett x fem!reader

ೃ⁀➷ wc: 7.0k

ೃ⁀➷ contains: 18+ SMUT MDNI, swearing, established relationship, feral nasty unhinged logan yes god, logan only slightly losing his humanity but like it’s a lot less sad than it sounds, maybe some toxic relationship dynamics but who cares it’s porn, predator/prey dynamics, p in v, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, HEAVY scent kink (like don’t make me say it…but beware of some very subtle armpit stuff), pain kink, biting is just another form of sexual penetration guys, blood, so much come and come talk, creampie, squirting, this is just gross, porn w/o plot, no use of y/n.

ೃ⁀➷ nat's note: hi…hi y’all…so here’s the winner of the poll and i need everyone to just hear me out for a second! walk with me! this is probably the most unhinged thing i’ve ever written, like omg those tags. this upsetting depravity was inspired by this post by @stupidfuckingwindow and this post by @monimccoythings which both altered the chemical balances of my brain so fiercely i blacked out for a while and when i came to this was in front of me. merry christmas and happy holidays! take this not at all christmas themed fic as my present to you my precious angels. kisses!

dividers by lovely @saradika-graphics!

you notice a strange shift in logan...

There’s something off with Logan.

The changes were subtle, but you’ve been with him long enough now to pick up on them. And while he's always had a raw, untamed edge to him, a sort of wildness simmering just beneath the surface, this feels different.

It started with the way he would go quiet for longer than usual, like his mind was too far away for you to reach—lost to somewhere distant.

Logan has always been quiet, but this was a different kind of silence. Conversations that used to flow with ease now hang in the air, unfinished. All of his responses reduced to nothing but low grunts and clipped words.

And he was more territorial over you, so much more.

His hand has started to linger at the small of your back or the curve of your waist for a lot longer when you’re in public, his strong grip firm enough to remind you—and anyone nearby—that you’re his.

He would fume at even the slightest hint of someone else's interest in you, a low warning growl escaping his throat to anyone who spared you a second glance.

It wasn’t just the physical closeness, though. It was also in the way Logan has started to watch you—his sharp gaze a never ending constant. An all imposing, heavily looming shadow.

There were even times late at night when you thought he was asleep, that you’d find him staring at you in the dark.

Not the usual, protective gaze he’d have when he thought you were vulnerable, but something deeper, more intense. His breathing would be slow, measured, but there was this energy, this tension that hummed between the two of you.

The nights he did manage to sleep, he’d hold you close to him, his grip iron-tight, his face buried in your hair. If you tried to shift away, even for a second, he’d stir, his arms pulling you back with a quiet, possessive growl that sent a shiver down your spine.

There were bite marks on your neck when you'd wake up, small enough to pass off as nothing—at least, that’s what you tried to tell yourself, but each one felt like a brand. They were deeper, more deliberate.

Then there was the scent—his scent.

You swear it’s gotten stronger, more potent. It clings to you like a second skin, lingering in your clothes, your sheets, even your hair. An intoxicating blend of leather and pine and musk that makes your head spin.

Each time you left the house without him, he’d pin you to the mattress and rub himself all over you before begrudgingly let you walk out the door. His hands or his face running along the delicate skin of your neck, of your stomach, of your wrists.

Everywhere.

He was claiming you in ways—new ways—that left you both exhilarated and confused.

There were other things too, smaller but no less odd things that were starting to add up.

More and more of your clothes have slowly started to go missing over the past few weeks. Each morning when you open any of your dresser drawers, it seems like there are less and less filling them.

Shirts, shorts, socks, bras, panties. All things you’ve found shoved under his side of the mattress or tucked under his pillow. The most memorable hiding place was the front pocket of his leather jacket, your favorite pair of panties haphazardly stuffed inside.

You haven’t said anything about it yet, unsure if you should be concerned or amused.

It isn’t like he’s truly hurting anyone.

He’s just acting…strange.

A part of you can’t help but be drawn to it—the new intensity, the new rawness. There was something undeniably magnetic about the way he clings to you, like you're his anchor in a world constantly shifting beneath his feet.

You’ve seen Logan at his worst—bloody, broken, and lost. But this? It’s never been like this before.

Whatever it is, it has its claws in him deep, and by extension, you.

You just got home from a run, barely walking through the door and kicking your shoes off when a call of your name rings out from the bedroom.

Logan’s tone stops you in your tracks—low and rough, like gravel crunching underfoot.

Your reaction is nearly instant, breath hitching in your chest, heart skipping a beat as a warmth that has nothing to do with the temperature outside starts to pulse through you steadily.

It’s like you’ve become reprogrammed to respond to him this way, your body reacting before your mind can even catch up as his deep, familiar voice rolls over the sweaty expanse of your skin.

You drop your bag at your feet and slowly make your way to the bedroom, a bead of sweat trailing down your temple as you push the door open.

All the curtains are closed, the only light in the room a yellow glow that shines from your bedside lamp. 

Logan is sitting on the edge of the bed, leaning back on his palms, but there’s nothing casual about his posture.

His gaze is locked on you, dark and intense, tracking every step you take, like a lion stalking a gazelle as it drinks from a watering hole.

“Didn’t tell me where you were going.” His eyes gleam as the lamp’s rays reflect off of them, his pupils dilated so he can see you better in the darkness that shrouds your room.

You swallow hard, trying to be as nonchalant as you can as your feet carry you to your dresser. “I went for a run,” you reply, your voice a little too steady, a little too casual.

You tug open the top drawer, rifling around for a clean shirt with a little more focus than necessary to distract yourself from the way his eyes burn a hole into your back.

“You didn’t tell me,” Logan repeats, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that sends a shiver down your spine. “You know I don’t like it when I don’t know where my girl is.”

There’s a sharp edge to his words, but it’s not anger—it’s something far more primal.

The energy in the room crackles like a storm about to break, and you feel it in your bones, in the way your skin prickles under his gaze.

"I was only gone for an hour," you say, your voice measured, careful. "You were still asleep when I left, I didn’t want to wake you." 

You chance a glance over your shoulder, and the sight of him steals the air from your lungs.

Logan hasn’t moved an inch from his perch on the edge of the bed, but the sheer force of his presence keeps you rooted in place, heart hammering in your chest.

“Hmm, that’s real sweet, baby,” he drawls, sitting up straighter now, leaning forward.

The motion makes him seem larger somehow, shoulders broad and imposing in the dim light. His tongue drags slowly across his bottom lip, and the way his gaze rakes over you feels like a physical touch, leaving a trail of heat in its wake.

Your fingers still in the drawer, fabric slipping from your grasp as your pulse pounds in your ears. You can’t bring yourself to look away from him, caught in the snare of his sharp, predatory focus.

You turn slowly, arms falling to hang limply at your sides. "I wasn't gone long."

Logan tilts his head, a low, amused sound rumbling in his chest as he rises to his feet with a fluid, deliberate ease that makes your stomach flip.

“Didn’t feel that way to me, darlin’.” His voice is a deep, gravelly purr. It sends a shiver down your spine. “Felt like forever.”

His eyes never leave yours as he crosses the room, the green completely swallowed by the dark black of his pupils as they seep into the color like oil spilling out over the surface of a lake.

You’ve never seen him like this before, so hungry.

"Logan," you say slowly, back pressed tightly against your dresser. "You're really starting to freak me out." 

Logan hums idly, head cocked to the side as he watches you. "I can hear your heartbeat." 

His tone is calmer now, but there’s still a dangerous edge to it, like a knife pressed just lightly enough against the skin not to break it.

Your pulse races, heat simmering in your stomach despite the slight edge of fear clawing its way through your chest.

He stops in front of you, so close that his scent invades your senses strong enough to make your knees feel like they’re about to buckle beneath you.

“There’s nothin’ to be scared of baby,” he mutters quietly, thick arms coming up to cage you against the dresser. 

Your hold on the wood tightens, your knuckles turning white with the strength of your grip.

It’s almost chemical, the way you can feel your body start to give in to him. The thought fills you with as much arousal as it does unease, a heady combination that churns in your stomach.

You muster up enough will to breathlessly nod in agreement, a quiet submission.

Logan’s lips quirk into the faintest smirk, his heavy gaze dipping to the curve of your neck, lingering on the rapid flutter of your pulse. “That’s my good girl.”

Any words you might say get caught in your throat as you stare up at Logan, wide eyed and steadily leaking wetness into the gusset of your panties. 

His nostrils flare, and a knowing sound rumbles from somewhere dark and low in his chest as his eyes flutter shut on a deep inhale.

Your thighs clench together instinctively, the overwhelming need to be filled wracking through your body like thunder.

When Logan opens his eyes again, there’s no trace of anything but pure animal need. The muscles in his jaw working furiously under his skin in time with the strain of his forearms still caging you in place.

“Yeah…” he trails off slowly, tone both condescending and soothing all at once. “I know you’re not all that scared, honey.”

He leans in, tearing a small whimper from your throat at the way his beard scrapes against your cheek as he crowds you.

His breath fans over the shell of your ear, hot and enticing as they brush against your skin when he speaks again. “I can smell how fuckin’ wet you are.”

Logan’s words send a sharp jolt through you, a broken moan falling from your parted lips as your cheeks heat up so fiercely it’s as if you’ve been slapped.

Your body moves without thinking, pressing up into his hard, unyielding frame like you can’t help it—and maybe you can’t.

“L–Logan…” Your voice trembles, a weak thing that dissolves in your throat as he noses along the skin of your neck.

His hands come down to rest on your waist, palms rough and possessive and warm and a perfect fit where they lay over your curves, anchoring you in place.

“Shhh.” His lips trail down your jaw, leaving wet kisses in their wake. “You don’t gotta say a thing, princess. I know what you need.”

Logan’s hands slip lower, cupping the backs of your thighs with ease before hoisting you onto the dresser like you weigh nothing. The sharp edge of the wood digs into your legs, but you can’t find it in yourself to care about the discomfort.

Your hands go to his shoulders without much of a second thought, nails digging into corded muscle as you try to keep your balance. 

Logan’s hands stay on your thighs, his grip strong enough for you to feel the power behind them without hurting you.

He noses along your sweaty skin like a hot-tempered hound, desperately inhaling greedy lungfuls of your scent wherever he can get it.

Behind your ear, in the crook of your neck, along your collarbone, the exposed swell of your breasts, dangerously close to your underarm.

He groans against your shoulder, a full body shiver jolting his frame. “Smell so fuckin’ good darlin’, drives me goddamn crazy.”

You can’t form a coherent thought, let alone a response. His mouth finally finds yours, claiming you with a ferocity that steals your breath.

Logan's tongue slides against yours, a messy, desperate kiss that has you moaning into his mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer.

It’s filthy, fueled by nothing but raw need and desperation. Spit drips from your chin to trail down the length of your throat until it gathers in the valley of your breasts. Whether it’s his or yours, it doesn’t matter.

It’s a perfect mix of the both of you, lewd and messy in the way it claims your skin.

Logan breaks the kiss with a low moan, his chest heaving the same as yours as you both inhale harsh lungfuls of air.

His lips are red and raw, swollen in a way that your own must mirror. A string of saliva keeps you connected, drooping thinner and thinner in the space between you until it breaks under the weight of gravity.

Logan doesn’t give you long to catch your breath. His lips trail down your jaw and latch onto the sensitive spot just below your ear, teeth scraping against skin before he sucks hard enough to leave a mark. 

Your head falls back against the wall as his mouth moves lower, dragging the strap of your sports bra down with his teeth.

The way he’s acting—like a man crazed, like he needs you more than he needs air—has you dizzy with need. But there's a part of you that’s still trying to hold onto some semblance of control, to hold onto something familiar in the chaos.

It’s only then that you realize this may be a bad idea. 

Whatever this is, is clearly an accumulation of all the things you’ve noticed over the last couple of weeks.

Maybe indulging Logan will only make things worse, like giving in to him when he’s in such a state could be the tipping point to a much deeper and all consuming issue buried somewhere inside of him.

It can’t possibly be healthy for him to act like this, and it can’t be healthy for you to bask in it as much as you are.

“W–wait.” Your thighs slip shut, hands coming up to push at Logan’s shoulders weakly.

There’s no real force behind your ministrations and you keep your neck bared to him all the while, but he stops anyway, rearing back with a displeased noise. 

His face hovers inches from yours, and for a moment, you swear he looks almost pained—his brows furrowing, jaw tightening as though reigning himself in is a Herculean effort.

His hands remain on your thighs, trembling slightly as he keeps himself rooted in place, clearly fighting every instinct roaring through him to just take what he wants.

“You don’t want me to stop, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice low and gravelly, a stark contrast to the restraint in his expression. His thumbs stroke idly against your skin, his touch soothing even as his words drip with pure, feral confidence. “I can smell the way your pussy’s achin’ for it. I can feel it. You’re shakin’ for me.”

You are—your whole body feels like it’s on the verge of unraveling under his touch, your resolve crumbling faster than you’d like to admit.

Everything you were going to say gets clogged in your brain on the way out, leaving you silent as you hold his gaze.

You don’t even have the capability to feel embarrassed at the way you blanch, lost in the way his scent attacks your senses, in the rough drag of his palms over your bare thighs, in the way your lips still tingle from his kiss.

Logan sighs, long and all suffering as his hands come to rest on both of your shut knees. The impatient raise of his brow paired with the dissatisfied curl of his lips is enough to shake you to the core.

“Now, you gonna show it to me?” His fingers drum along your knee, his patience thinning. “Or am I gonna have to make you.”

And it may sound like one, but you know it’s not a question. 

It’s a choice.

Your mind races, hands clenching and unclenching on Logan’s shoulders as you weigh your options. His own hands squeeze your knees, just hard enough to let you feel it in your bones.

You spread your legs.

Logan doesn’t waste a second, dropping to his knees in front of you with a satisfied rumble and a predatory gleam in his eyes. His hands grip your thighs, pushing them even wider. Wide enough to make you feel exposed, vulnerable in the best way. 

Your head dips, chin falling to your chest as you watch the way Logan takes up the space between your legs. Your shorts are soaked, fabric so drenched that it’s melded to the shape of your cunt, your puffy folds on display for his greedy eyes.

“Fuck,” Logan breathes, his voice cracking like a whip in the quiet room. His hands find your waistband, and the dull sound of fabric ripping rings out.

The sturdy cotton tears like tissue paper in his hands, the scraps of your shorts falling carelessly to the floor, leaving you in nothing but the light blue panties you slipped on before your run. 

The way he gazes at the space between your thighs is feral, unrestrained, like he’s a man starving for his next meal—and you’re it.

“Look at that…” Logan mutters, almost to himself as he runs his knuckle along the wet cotton of your panties. His touch is featherlight, barely any pressure at all, but it’s enough.

Your breath hitches, a sharp intake of air at the teasing touch, and your hips instinctively cant forward, silently begging for more. 

Logan's eyes flick up to yours, a dark smirk curling his lips like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you—and how much you're already falling apart.

“Eager fuckin’ thing,” he drawls, voice rough with arousal. He leans forward, his hot breath ghosting over your soaked panties, sending a shiver racing down your spine. “You want me to give your pussy some kisses, baby?”

You open your mouth to respond, but the words never make it out. Logan’s lips press against the damp fabric, placing a kiss right over where your covered clit throbs with need.

Your head falls back to rest on the wall behind you, a shocked moan bursting from your lips.

“Logan.” His name is pulled from your mouth like a plea, but he doesn’t let up, the sharp edge of his teeth scraping over the sensitive bundle of nerves hidden beneath the soaked barrier of your underwear.

“Hmm?” He hums against you, the vibration sending shockwaves through your core. “Thought you wanted me to stop?”

The taunt is maddening, the rasp of his voice and the teasing flicks of his tongue combining to unravel you piece by piece. 

You shake your head furiously, thighs trembling where they rest on his broad shoulders. “N-no—don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.”

Logan chuckles darkly, his hands sliding up your thighs to hook his fingers into the thin waistband of your panties. 

“That’s more like it,” he taunts. With a single, sharp tug, the ruined fabric joins the scraps of your shorts on the floor.

Logan groans at the sight of your bare cunt, slick with your juices and flushed with arousal. His mouth waters, his tongue running along the sharp points of his canines in anticipation.

You’re already so ready for him.

“You smell so fuckin’ good,” he growls, leaning in to drag his nose along the slick seam of your folds. The deep inhale he takes is obscene, sending a ripple of anticipation through your entire body. “Know that you taste even better.”

Logan licks a broad stripe through your folds, groaning like the taste of you is enough to satisfy him completely. His hands grip your thighs tighter, keeping you spread and utterly at his mercy as he begins to work in earnest.

He alternates between laving the tip of his tongue over your clit and dipping down to fuck into you, his beard scraping along the skin of your thighs in a way that’s almost too much. Your head falls back, hitting the wall with a soft thud as your vision blurs.

“God, Logan.” You squirm on the vanity, but he holds you steady, growling low and deep into your core like your moaning only spurs him on.

“That’s it,” he mutters between licks, his words unmistakably smug. “Make those pretty little sounds for me, baby.”

Logan circles your clit with the flat of his tongue, alternating between firm, deliberate strokes and light, teasing flicks that leave you gasping for air.

You cry out, fingers tangling in his thick, unruly hair as he repeats the motions, your thighs starting to tremble on either side of his head.

Every time your hips buck against him, he growls, the vibrations of it sinking into your skin and amplifying the pleasure coursing through your veins.

“Stay still,” he orders, his voice muffled against your dripping core but no less commanding. His hands tighten on your thighs, holding you in place with an unrelenting grip. “You’re not in charge, sweetheart.”

You whimper, your whole body trembling as you fight the urge to grind against his face. But it’s impossible to stay still when he’s licking into you like a man possessed, his mouth working you over with an intensity that has your vision going hazy.

“I know, you're just so damn needy, aren’t you, baby?” He drawls , pulling back just enough to speak, his lips glistening with your arousal. “You love this, hmm? Lettin’ me take care of you?”

You can only nod, words failing you as his fingers replace his mouth, sliding through your spit soaked cunt.

“You’re so goddamn pretty down here.” Logan mutters, almost to himself, spreading your puffy, abused folds obscenely wide. 

He teases your entrance, fingertips dipping into your warm heat only to retract a second later. You whine, high and embarrassing as your hips twitch with want.

Logan watches your face closely, his expression equal parts smug and adoring as he finally sinks one thick finger inside you, curling it just right.

“Fuck,” you breathe, your head lolling back he adds a second finger, stretching you in a way that has your toes curling. He pumps them slowly at first, each deliberate thrust sending waves of pleasure radiating through your body.

��Takin’ me so well,” Logan murmurs, his thumb brushes over your clit, drawing tight circles that make your thighs tremble. “So tight and wet for me. You’re makin’ me crazy, darlin’.”

Your moans grow louder, unrestrained, as he picks up the pace, his fingers plunging into you with a rhythm that has your skin burning hotter and hotter.

Logan’s mouth returns to you with renewed fervor, tongue and lips working in perfect tandem as he drags you closer to the edge. 

He shakes his head back and forth like an animal, his nose rubbing up against your clit deliciously as buries his tongue as deep in your cunt as it’ll go. The coarse hair of his beard scratches the sensitive skin of your inner thighs red and raw.

You can’t think, can’t breathe, your entire world narrowing down to the feel of his mouth on you. 

“Logan—” Your voice cracks, your head falling back against the wall as the spring of pleasure inside you winds tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment. “I’m—fuck—I’m so close—”

“Good,” he growls, pumping his fingers in time with the flicks of his tongue. “I can feel you squeezin’ me. I want you to come for me, baby. Wanna taste every fuckin’ drop.”

You’re powerless to resist.

You cry out, thighs clamping shut on either side of his head as you come on his tongue. Your body shakes so violently you knock a few things off the vanity, the distant sound of glass shattering hardly registers. 

Logan growls, low and dragged from the back of his throat in such a way that makes it reverberate in the space between your legs. His own arms come up, grip strong and encouraging as he forces your legs around his head even tighter than before.

He doesn’t stop, doesn’t let up, licking and sucking and pumping his fingers to drag you through the aftershocks like a man obsessed. 

When you finally come back to yourself, panting and trembling, Logan’s holding your shaking thighs apart, his mouth still pressed to you in soft, languid strokes.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he mutters, voice rough and gravelly as he presses a final kiss to your oversensitive clit. 

Logan’s hands slide up to your hips, gripping tight as he rises to his feet, towering over you with that same dark, predatory gleam in his eyes. 

His lips are even redder than before, swollen and slick with your juices. His beard is damp and shining in the low light, and the smug, satisfied smirk on his face sends another pulse of heat through your already spent body.

“Good girl,” he purrs, not even bothering to wipe his mouth before leaning in to capture your lips in a kiss that’s all heat and possession. 

You can taste yourself on his tongue, the salt and musk mingling with the raw hunger. It’s filthy and intoxicating, and it leaves you gasping for air when he finally pulls away.

But Logan’s far from finished.

His hands slide under your ass, lifting you off the dresser with ease. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively as he carries you to the bed and tosses you on it with little preamble.

Your back hits the mattress hard enough to have you bouncing on it once, twice, three times before Logan is crawling up to blanket your body with his. 

The heavy weight of his metal laced bones sink you into the soft plushness, keeping you stuck beneath him with nowhere to go.

Which you know is exactly where he wants you.

He slots his hips between yours, dragging the straining jut of his cock along your sensitive cunt. You can feel the warmth of him even through the thick material of his sweats, a scalding plane of heat that makes your cunt ache with need. 

You can feel the damp patch where his clothed tip nudges against your clit, and you know from that alone he’s already soaked through the cotton with pre-come. His cock leaking like a faucet in the harsh confines of his bottoms while he ate you out.

“Feel that?” Logan asks, voice hoarse as he buries his head in your neck. “That’s all ‘cause of you, baby. Got me drippin’ like I busted a damn pipe.”

The sharp intake of air you suck in at his words does nearly nothing to help your breathlessness, your desperation bleeding through as your frantic hands push at the waistband of his bottoms. “Off. Off.”

Logan huffs a rough laugh against your neck, his warm breath skating across your skin as his lips ghost over your pulse. “So fuckin’ bossy.”

He doesn’t move to help you, not right away, savoring the way your hands fumble and tug, your frustration bubbling over in breathy little gasps.

“You want it that bad, huh?” he teases, the rough timbre of his voice a stark contrast to the gentleness of his lips pressing along your jaw. “Look at you, so damn needy. Can’t even wait for me to get my cock out.”

You only tug harder, patience nonexistent as your fingers curl into the waistband. “Please, Logan. Don’t tease.”

“Alright, alright.” Logan finally gives in, sitting back just enough to push them over his hips, freeing his cock.

It springs free, slapping against his stomach heavy and slick with pre-come, the ruddy tip glistening in the low light.

The sight alone has you clenching around nothing, a devastatingly desperate noise falls from your lips as the ache between your thighs builds to an almost unbearable throb.

He makes quick work of ripping his shirt over his head, carelessly tossing it behind him before he’s back on you.

This time, when he bullies his hips in between yours, there's nothing separating you.

You feel every inch of his cock as it grinds along the seam of your cunt. The velvety skin is almost scalding as it drags against your own, the drool of pre-come only adding more to your own wetness.

Logan presses you into the mattress harder, rutting against your cunt almost desperately as he noses along your damp, overheated skin.

His mouth is everywhere. Sucking marks where the junction of your neck meets your shoulder, lapping up the sweat that pools in the valley of your breasts, licking a filthy stripe across the side of your face that has your cheeks burning.

He buries his nose in the sweaty skin of your underarm, whining and panting like a surly dog all over again. Each breath is hot and wet against you, and it only seems to make him hungrier, greedier. His cock blurts even more pre-come onto your skin with every inhale he takes.

It should gross you out. 

It should be utterly mortifying, but the sight of Logan like this only leaves you thrumming with want. 

His desperation, the raw, unfiltered way he takes you in—like he can’t get close enough, can’t have enough of you—has your pulse racing and your mind spinning out of control. 

You feel his nose press harder against your skin, the heat of his breath fanning over you as he groans, a deep, guttural sound that reverberates right through you. 

“Fuck,” he rasps, voice gravelly and broken. “You smell so goddamn good. Can’t help it. Can’t fuckin’—” His hips jerk, the weight of his cock sliding slickly against your cunt, bumping up against your clit in a way that makes you shiver. 

“Logan,” you whimper, your hands clutching at his broad shoulders, nails digging into his skin. Your hips lift instinctively, chasing the friction, the relief, the unbearable stretch you know only he can give you. “Please, I can’t take it anymore. I need you—need you so bad.”

He smirks, his lips curling against your skin as he nips at the curve of your jaw. “Need me, huh?” he murmurs, his tone dark and teasing. “Need my cock inside you, stretchin’ you open? Tell me, baby. Tell me how bad you need it.”

“So bad.” Your hips tilt up instinctively, desperate for him to push inside. The head of his cock catches at your entrance, the blunt pressure sending a jolt of electricity through your body. “Need you so bad it hurts. Please—please don’t make me wait.”

Logan growls, a feral sound. “Such a good girl when you beg for me.” he snarls, big hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise so he can flip you on your front, gently manhandling you until you're on all fours. “Gonna fill you up, princess.”

His hands knead the soft flesh of your ass as he lines himself up behind you. The weight of his cock presses against your entrance, slick and ready, and for a moment, he just stays there, teasing.

Your arms shake beneath you, elbows locked as you force yourself to stay still, patient.

The head of his cock nudges against you, spreading your slickness, and your body trembles in anticipation. He sinks himself into you in one deep, unrelenting thrust.

The stretch is instant, the burn delicious as he pushes inside, inch by inch, filling you in one fluid, devastating stroke. A choked gasp spills from your lips as he bottoms out, his cock seated so deep you swear you can feel him in your stomach.

“Fuck.” Logan stills, his cock pulsing inside you as he lets you adjust, but the restraint is fleeting. 

His hands glide up your back, palms rough and grounding as they map every curve, every quiver of your body. He starts grinding his hips in slow circles, pressing every inch of his cock along your velvety walls. 

Your head drops between your arms, brows pinched together as you take in greedy lungfuls of air. You’ll never get used to this, the way Logan fills you so perfectly, no matter how many times it’s been.

“Come on, baby.” Logan leans down to press a soft kiss between your shoulder blades, his lips fever hot. “You wanted to fuck me so bad you could hardly wait. Now’s your chance, fuck me.”

It takes a few long seconds for his words to cunt through the molasses clouding your mind, the small thrust of his hips hinting at what he wants you to do.

You let out a pitiful whimper, hands digging into your bed’s puffy comforter as you start rocking your hips. 

You start slow, letting yourself build up a nice, steady rhythm as Logan purrs words of encouragement from behind you. His hands never leave your hips, thumbs rubbing soft circles over your skin as you start to pick up the pace.

“That’s it,” he encourages darkly, giving the rippling muscle of your ass a sharp swat. “Find the fuckin’ spot, baby. Write your name on this cock, tell everyone who it belongs to.”

You cry out at the sting of his palm, bouncing yourself on his length impossibly faster. Your arms burn under the strain of your movements, but you can’t stop chasing the high of pleasure that shoots up your spine.

The sound of skin on skin fills the room, a lewd slap slap slap as you fuck yourself on Logan’s cock like he’s a replacement for the cheap suction cup dildo collecting dust in a box hidden away in your closet—like he’s nothing but a expertly shaped lump of silicon molded solely for your pleasure.

You can feel yourself getting close to the edge, and in nearly no time at all. The telltale coil buried deep in your belly winding tighter and tighter as you work yourself on Logan’s cock hard enough that the cheap frame of your bed thumps against the wall.

It might be embarrassing if you weren’t so far gone already, so fuck drunk that the too loud moans falling from your lips hardly phase you.

It's like there's nothing but the feel of Logan inside you, bumping against that spot inside you that has stars shining behind your closed eyes. 

“Close already?” Logan taunts from behind you, voice just the tiniest but breathless, but the way his cock pulses and jerks where it’s sheathed in your cunt lets you know he’s right there with you. “I know you are, honey. I can feel how she’s squeezin’ me, so damn tight.”

His hands dig into your hips, not even waiting for a response as he starts thrusting in time with your bounces. He pounds into you, hips snapping against your ass hard enough to sting.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come too baby,” he bites out, the rhythm of his hips getting sloppier. “Gonna come so fuckin’ hard, fill you up so good. Shit–”

Logan pulls out enough that only the thick tip of his cock stays sheathed in the warmth of your cunt, his body falling to hunch over yours as he pumps his come into you with a feral growl.

You whine at the feeling of his release filling you, painting your insides with spurt after spurt of thick come. It’s so much, it’s always so much. A rush of warmth that floods your insides each time without fail.

And just like that, the feeling alone has you coming.

Your back arches as your cunt gushes over the tip of his cock, drenching his thighs and the rest of his shaft in your essence. You think you may scream, but it’s hard to tell over the white noise rushing through your ears.

Your arms finally buckle under you as Logan helps you ride out the last few tremors of your orgasm with a few slow rocks of his hips, and your spent body collapses onto the mattress.

Logan’s low noises of pleasure barely register as your chest heaves almost violently, your lungs desperately trying to get as much air as they possibly can.

But you barely have time to catch your breath before Logan plants his knees back firmly on the mattress and starts thrusting, again. 

“Logan!” Your hands scramble for purchase on the mussed sheets of your bed, the overstimulation making your legs kick out frantically.

“You thought we were done?” Logan asks, his tone equal parts amused and mocking. “You popped twice already, baby. S’only fair that you let me catch up.”

With no warning, he takes you in his arms, pulling his cock out just long enough to flip you on your back. He throws your legs over his shoulders before plunging back inside your fucked open cunt with a filthy squelch. 

He feels even bigger like this, yet your body swallows his cock like it’s nothing. The spongy warmth of your walls melding to the shape of him like it’s what you were made for. 

The coarse hair of his happy trail drags across your clit each time he thrusts, adding to the blistering feeling where the knife's edge of too much too much too much meets not nearly enough.

His come stuffed in your trembling cunt only makes it all the more filthy, his cock plunging inside you and coming back out slick and wet on every thrust. 

Your lips fall open on a broken moan, eyes screwing shut as you work your cunt around him, feeling the way his release gets fucked deeper and deeper inside you.

Logan notices, of course he does.

A dark chuckle rumbles against your own as he leans down enough to whisper into your slack mouth. “You like havin’ someone come in your pussy, baby?”

You moan into his mouth unabashedly, loudly. Both of your eyes burning as tears threaten to fall down the flushed skin of your cheeks, your throat going dry and scratchy in the best way possible. 

“Shit–” Your hands claw at the rippling muscles of his back desperately, nails digging into his skin hard enough that you feel the unmistakable slickness of his blood coating the tips of your fingers.

The pain spurs him on, his head tips down on a low groan and his eyes squeezing together for a split second before he’s spewing filth again.

“You want some more?” Logan asks, tone going dark like he already knows the answer as his hips speed up impossible faster. “You want me to come again?”

You don’t respond, you can’t respond. You can barely make a coherent thought. 

All you can manage are whiny moans that fall from your slack lips, broken little uh uh uh’s that get punched out with each new thrust. Your nails rake down his back mercilessly, leaving behind deep red welts that heal as you go.

“Yeah, I know you do.” He turns his head to nip at the skin over the delicate bone of your ankle where it bounces near his head, sharp teeth digging in enough to have you whining pitifully. “You love havin’ a messy fuckin’ pussy, don’t you? Love being stuffed so full of my come you can’t even hold it all, huh?”

His words hit you like a physical blow, lighting up your body from the inside out. Your thighs shake where they’re wrapped around his hips, ankles locking over his lower back so he couldn’t pull out if he wanted to.

His come mixes with your juices to coat his cock, completely drenched all slick and shiny in the dull light of your bedroom. It drips down almost leisurely compared to the near feral snap of his hips, trailing all the way down his length to his heavy balls. 

“Yes.” He groans, reverent. “Give it to me, baby. Wanna feel you come on my cock again, feels so fuckin’ good. Can’t ever get enough—”

You’ve never heard him like this, so high of pleasure that his speech slurs and his words all meld together into one filthy stream of ramblings that has you sinking your nails even deeper into his back and coming on his cock with a loud wail.

Your cunt convulses around him, shaking with the force of your release, milking him. 

“Fuck, princess.” Logan pitches forward, his sweaty torso covering yours as he keeps fucking into your shaking body, desperately chasing his own release.

Finally, with a muted roar of your name, he sinks his teeth into the tender skin of your neck and comes for you.

You cry out at the sharp sting of his teeth bearing down hard enough to draw blood, your vision whiting out with the pleasure of being claimed in every way imaginable.

Logan’s hips only stop when he’s drained of every last drop, his body shaking where it lays over yours. He laps at the broken skin of your neck, a soft gesture that isn’t quite an apology for making you bleed—because you know that he isn’t sorry whatsoever—but it’s nice nonetheless.

Your arms come up to circle around his neck, eyes fluttering shut as the exhaustion hits you all at once. You get lost in the steady rhythm of Logan catching his breath, in the way his heart pounds against his ribcage where his chest is pressed to your own, in the way his fingers twitch and flex on your hips.

The last thing you hear as you drift off, his come starting to leak down your thighs in thick streams of white, is a hushed whisper of “I got you, baby. I’m right here, I’m always right here.”

It puts you at ease, all the worry you felt over the last few weeks slipping from your mind like grains of sand through your fingers.

Maybe, this new side of Logan isn’t so bad after all.

tags are now in the comments! if you want to get tagged for any of my works just fill out this form!

[1980shorrorfilm]

has it hit you?

click!!!

pairing…sam carpenter x gn!reader

in which…an argument causes sam to push you away; which she regrets when you end up under the mistletoe with someone else.

before you read…angst with comfort. alcohol usage. mentions of sex.

“whatever sam said, she didn’t mean— you know she gets like that sometimes!”

tara follows you around the frat house that was lazily decked out with flashy christmas decor, like a child being led by her parent. fitting, considering she’s taking your fight with sam to the heart. 

it was sudden, so sudden yet something you should’ve been entirely prepared for. 

you made the mistake of taking a step in a direction she’s repeated several times she didn’t want to go down. emotional intimacy. a hint at a relationship. dinner with your family for the holidays. 

you had invited her and tara, having believed you were close enough with them to do so, but specifically sam. the woman you’ve spent most of your nights with, wrapped in her arms, skin to skin. 

it wasn’t just sex with her. when she was vulnerable enough, she’d trust you with some of her lighter secrets, still unable to tell you everything that goes on her mind. 

you were okay with that, though, always so patient with her. that’s why you accepted what you two were…nothing and everything at the same time.

not dating, no, she wouldn’t say that. she wouldn’t call you her partner. she wouldn’t even call you her best friend. you were just…you. someone she liked enough to occupy her time with, and she assumed that’s all she was to you.

not someone to bring home to your parents, sam did not think she had the title. she thought she didn’t want it, imagining the judgmental faces from your beloved family members, as if you brought home a mistake. 

a mistake. that’s what she called your whatever-ship.

something that should’ve never happened, she told you. you’re too clingy, she said. just leave me the fuck alone, she begged.

you listened. you always listen to sam. 

leading you to a frat party, being followed by her little sister, a constant reminder of what you’re trying to escape. 

“maybe we should go home— she’s probably waiting for you,” tara tries again, watching you grab a beer from the fridge. you sigh her name, not wanting to scold her, but really tired of hearing about sam. tara gets the hint, and the obvious annoyance in your tone, deciding to back off. for now.

your mind can ease somewhat without having tara’s shadow, actually talking to your friends while the alcohol works its way into your system. 

you find yourself playing beer pong against some faces you occasionally see in class, laughing at just how bad you were— then remembering how good sam is. her aim is amazing, sam knows the right angles and how delicate or hard the pressure should be. you learned that a long time ago, though. 

why are you thinking about her? when you’re just her mistake?

you shake your head, bringing the red solo cup to your lips and downing the alcohol while the opposite team celebrates their win. your partner, a tall blonde who leaned in very close to you the entire time, now trying to hold a regular conversation. 

“aren’t you seeing that carpenter chick?” they had asked, and your head snapped toward them, brows knitting at the comment. you hadn’t known your association with her seemed to others what you also had viewed it as. romantic. 

it’s slightly comforting, knowing it wasn’t entirely in your head, the way samantha tried telling you it was. maybe she was lying more to herself, than you, or so that’s what you hope for. 

“nope,” you tell them, “not seeing anyone.”

the bitterness of your words goes unnoticed, and is taken as an invitation; which it sorta is. you came here to forget her, to make yourself feel better. and if that’s with some blonde that lost beer pong with you, you’re okay with that. you think.

you’re honestly not doing a lot of thinking right now. you’re fake laughing at their stupid jokes. you’re repeating ‘right,’ at their never-ending stories. 

you’re being reminded why you picked sam over everyone else. this is draining, a chore to pretend to be interested. there was no pretending with her. her. her. 

holy fuck, you need another drink. 

you excuse yourself, but they follow, still talking to you. they cut themselves off, an enthusiastic ‘hey,’ as their palm on your wrist halts you in the doorway. 

“wh—”

they point up, and you glance. mistletoe. you see it more in movies than in reality, you’re almost amazed by the sight of the small green and red shrubs. to be beneath it with the love of your life— to be beneath it with sam. 

sam isn’t here.

but you are, and so is the blonde.

because why the fuck not, you close the space between you two, a peck on their lips that goes as quickly as it came. but it lasts long enough for her to see it.

the heat rushes to her cheeks, tara not telling her you were occupied with someone else in the urgent message she had sent her. just the fact that you were drinking, and she’s taking your recklessness as confirmation. 

sam ignores the stares as she pushes past the drunken partygoers, remembering exactly why she didn’t come to shit like this. if she wanted to feel judged she would’ve searched her name online, a habit you’ve tried to stop her from doing.

“y/n.”

her voice cuts through the music and chatter, your eyes falling on her in the doorway of the kitchen. you’re leaning against the counter, the blonde in front of you, looking between you two. sam is only looking at them. 

“can you leave us?” it comes out as a demand when she says it, and they don’t protest, both of you now alone when they scurry away.

you gulp at whatever she has to say to you, probably to get scolded for having fun without her. with someone else. despite her harsh words making it seem like that’s what she wanted from you; to find someone else and stop bothering her. 

you laugh dryly to yourself at the thought.

“what was that?”

“what was what?” 

sam exhales through her nose, trying to be patient in a moment she absolutely did not want to be. she will show you some grace due to being buzzed and not entirely there, but that doesn’t change how she feels.

bitter. annoyed. mad, very mad, at you. 

“so we have one argument and that’s it?” she begins to walk toward you, making you feel extremely small the closer she got, and the louder her voice became.

you dare to bite back, “thought that’s what you wanted.”

“why would i want that?”

“because you fucking said so, sam,” you tell her, the woman not realizing the weight of the things she had said until this moment. 

sure, they weren’t the kindest words that had left her mouth, but they were spoken out of fear rather than honesty. unfortunately, you’re not a mind reader, and you have feelings that sam has obliterated. 

“i don’t…” she trails off, a roar from the crowd in the next room causing her to squeeze her eyes in annoyance. “let’s go home. talk there,” sam tells you, hand gently grabbing at yours, but you pull away. 

“you can go home.”

“y/n.”

“im staying, sam. don’t wait up for me,” you push past her, to the fridge you had originally come into the kitchen for. to your luck, there’s one more beer, but it leaves your hands as soon as you grab it. 

sam walks away with the drink, practically shoving it into someone’s welcoming hands, a tight-lipped smile on her face that drops when she faces you again. “guess i am too, then.”

the audacity.

making you feel like shit, pushing you away, then pulling you back in when you find happiness without her. even if it’s stupid decisions like kissing strangers and drinking until your head hurts. it’s a better feeling than being told you’re not wanted by the woman you love the most. 

“fuck you, sam.”

with that, you storm out of the room, out of the house entirely, the freezing december air hitting you at once. you hug yourself, your ugly holiday sweater not providing you the warmth that the frat home had, and drag your feet to the sidewalk. 

you hear her behind you before she makes her presence known. 

“where are you going?” 

“why? gonna follow me?”

once more, her hand finds your arm, a firm grip holding you in place, and a hard stare that goes through you. it causes your attitude retreat, and your confidence to die completely. 

“if you want to be mad at me, fine, but i’m not leaving you alone like this.”

you remain still, eyes falling to your feet because holding her gaze is too overwhelming. she sees through you, gets to you easily like she is now, and why you’re accepting defeat. 

“fine, whatever. let’s go.”

she lets out of a sigh of relief, thankful this wasn’t going to be another argument. she’s too drained for that. her grip on you softens, along with her eyes that scan your face momentarily, like she was taking you in for the first time tonight. red eyes and a cute frown on your face that she wishes she wasn’t the reasoning for.

sam leads you to her car, making sure tara is okay before she leaves, the ride is quiet and uncomfortable. she taps her fingers on the steering wheel, occasionally glancing at you, your head facing the window, watching the snow begin to fall.

you look at peace, probably the most calm you’ve been since the fight. since she wiped the smile off of your face, replacing your joyful eyes with eyes of pain. her heart begins to hurt.

at a red light, she peels off her jacket, handing it to you without saying anything. you don’t put it on, but you use it as a blanket, inhaling the scent of the cinnamon and sandalwood perfume she drowns herself in. a comforting scent that makes you feel warmer than the jacket itself. 

when you arrive at her place, you’re still clinging to the piece of clothing, sitting on the couch while she makes sure all the locks on the door are secure. you’re mindlessly watching whatever channel on the tv she previously had on, hearing her shuffle in the kitchen.

it’s a few minutes later that she enters the room with two mugs, placing one in your hands. you smell the hot chocolate before she informs you that’s what it is, thanking her before sipping on the sweet drink. 

she sits beside you, leaning forward to grab the remote and mute the television. damn it. 

“can we talk?”

“go ahead,” you mumble, but sam is not as bothered by your subtle attitude. she gets it. she may have acted like it was unwarranted earlier, but you’ve made it very clear she had hurt you. and she deserves the absolute worst for that. 

“what i said to you…i didn’t mean any of it. i was upset— and that’s not an excuse, i know,” she begins, brown eyes trained on her drink, “i just…haven’t loved anyone like this since…”

sam goes quiet, unable to finish that sentence, before speaking again, “and it’s a lot…you’re a lot for me— not in a bad way —it’s just new. and i’m scared im gonna fuck up. i mean i already did.”

she dryly laughs at herself, at the thought of shutting you out to avoid getting hurt and ending up in a much worse position. how she had someone so caring and beyond understanding, and made them feel bad about it. a villain simply for loving her as much as you do— but you’re not one, and you never will be to her.

even now, you have nothing unkind to say to her. you have no desire to even talk about the argument that had taken place. your patience runs deep with samantha, your sympathy outweighing your frustrations.

sam is hurting even more than you, trauma that you couldn’t even begin to understand, insecurities that taint her mindset and your relationship. it’s a problem, you both know this, and you’re still valid for being upset with the words she had spoken due to her own personal complications. words that aren’t true or reflect you at all.

sam will do better for you.

there’s a beat of silence, not nearly as uncomfortable the ride here. the tension is somewhat fleeting, replaced with something else, vulnerability when you both need it.

“so…” you begin, “you love me?”

her head snaps to you, shocked you’re even asking, and that you’re not addressing anything she had said. she doesn’t mind it, though, and answers you.

“so fucking much.”

your cheeks go red at her words, how she means it. sam loves you hard. it is the only reason why you had a fight in the first place.

sam understands it now.

in that part of her brain that is kind to her, in the part that allows her to be in love with you, freely, deeply, openly, like she deserves, ignoring the cruel self-deprecating voices in the back of her mind. 

you end the night with your head on her chest, listening to the rhythm of her heartbeat as you fall asleep cuddled into her body.

[stormz369]

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 35

Jason Todd x (f)Chubby!Reader

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, NSFW, MDNI, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings/labels: rude bitches, rich people being wildly out of touch with the modern era, vague hints of body image issues, comfort, and lots of holiday fluff

wc: 3.6k

A/N: Happy holidays all! I had hoped to have this chapter up yesterday, but the characters stopped talking to me for a few days so ... here we are. 😅

Chapter Selection

Jason healed fast, when he bothered to get medical attention. By the end of the week he was back to his standard training regiment, the arm wound was already shaping up to be one of his less pronounced scars, and Bruce insisted he couldn't use the incident to get out of the Wayne Foundation Christmas Gala. So, the Friday before Christmas I found myself back in my red dress, this time paired with a white faux fur wrap draped across my shoulders. Jason bit back a grin when I held out the necklace he'd given me, eagerly taking it. I held my hair out of the way while he clasped it around my neck, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of my neck.

“Stunning~” he purred softly, wrapping his arms around my waist.

I giggled softly, leaning against him. “Thank you~”

Damian cleared his throat behind us and I turned toward him. He looked downright regal in his suit; it was perfectly tailored, and the vibrant green tie matched his eyes beautifully.

“Oh my god, Damian! You look incredible, sweetie!” I squealed a bit, clenching my fists by my cheeks.

He flushed, looking away awkwardly. “Calm down, sister.”

I bit back the coo’s that threatened to pour out of my mouth. Damian rolled his eyes at the face I was making, and Jason laughed softly; “You might want to let her get it out, demon brat. Wouldn't want her squealing like that when the socialites get here.”

Damian frowned, staring up at me before holding his arms out for a hug. “... Proceed.”

I squealed and pulled him in, kissing the top of his head. “My handsome baby!”

He allowed my babbling for several minutes before gently pulling away. “Alright, alright, that's enough.”

I took a deep breath, getting myself under control again. “Sorry, sorry ... Who else will be there tonight?”

“Cain and Thomas will be around. And Father and Grayson are on Bat-duty.”

“Ok, cool.” I nodded. “... Where's Tim?”

“He’s needed at a Drake Industries event tonight. But he'll be here tomorrow for the holiday.” Jason rolled his eyes, but couldn't help the smile on his face.

Damian stayed glued to my side throughout the evening. Since Bruce was ‘inescapably occupied', the Gotham social scene had their eyes on those of us who were present. The WE board was also at the gala, so we were fortunately not accosted with requests to meet with Bruce at the office, but we were left on our own to deal with the social aspect.

An older woman approached us on the side of the dance floor, an insincere smile plastered to her face. “Now you must be Jason Todd. And young Damian Wayne, ah, such a pleasure to meet you both! Mr. Wayne has told us so much about you!”

Jason raised an eyebrow; “oh, has he?”

“Of course! He's terribly proud of his boys, you know. Oh, we were just devastated when we heard he was busy tonight. Perhaps you could tell your father we spoke?” She smiled brightly down at Damian; “it is getting to be about that time, isn't it? And our Maria would just love to meet you, young man.”

Damian pressed closer to me, reaching for my hand. I frowned, gently squeezing back. “... Sorry, it's getting to be what time?”

The woman tittered; “well, young men of status must be introduced to their social equals, mustn't they? Mr. Wayne will want to secure a good match for his son.”

I blinked a bit, wrapping an arm protectively around Damian's shoulders as I turned toward Jason; “what year is it? Have we fallen through a wormhole to the Regency period?”

Jason laughed as the woman's expression soured. “Perhaps we should call Mr. Wayne directly...”

“I'd love to hear that. When are you going to call? I'll make sure we're visiting.” Jason snorted.

The woman scurried away, huffing softly. Damian frowned deeply, staying close. I gently stroked his hair. “... Do you want to go up to your room, sweetheart? We can say you got tired.”

He slowly shook his head. “No, not yet, I'll be ok.”

Cass came over, looking at me as she held a hand out to Jason; “I need to borrow him for a minute.”

Jason rolled his eyes; “why?”

“I told the VP I couldn't dance with him because I promised you this one.”

He sighed, taking her hand. “Why me? Why not Duke?”

They made their way onto the dance floor, and Damian looked up at me, offering me his hand. “... Sister, shall we dance?”

I chuckled softly, taking it. “Such a little gentleman~”

He smirked a bit, leading me onto the floor after Cass and Jason. Damian was a surprisingly good dancer, and we spun around the dance floor a few times. Eventually, we ended up at the buffet table for some punch. A group of women were giggling amongst themselves nearby, and I caught just a bit of their conversation.

“It's just a shame about his face, you know?”

“Ugh, tragic. He was such a cute kid.”

“I know! I could have gotten past his poor upbringing, but that scar … that’s a deal breaker.”

“Didn't he have to find a girl from the bad side of town?”

“Yeah, he did! And I heard she's pretty f-”

Damian snapped; “yes, my new sister is very pretty. She's also clever, and kind, and we're all very pleased to call her family.”

The girls gasped softly, eyes darting toward us; “... This is a private conversation.”

“Is it? You weren't doing a very good job of keeping it to yourselves.”

I gently placed a hand on Damian's shoulder; “ignore them kiddo, they're not important.”

“Excuse you?” One of the girls shrieked; “my daddy could buy and sell you!”

“And yet he can't buy you some manners?” I sipped my punch, rolling my eyes as she sputtered.

I felt a familiar hand on my back as Jason slid in next to me. “Princess? Is everything alright?”

I smiled softly, leaning against him slightly; “hello, handsome~”

“These imbeciles are under the incredibly flawed impression that their opinions on our family are worth listening to.” Damian growled softly.

Jason's arm tightened around my waist. “I see … Well, which of us is the star of tonight's gossip?”

One of the girls cleared her throat; “n- nothing like that, Mr. Todd. These two misheard…”

“I highly doubt that. Come on, say it to our faces.” Jay raised an eyebrow.

“... Really, there's nothing to say-”

“They were commenting on your scars, Todd.”

The girls paled, clearing their throats awkwardly. “N- now that's just not true. None of us said anything about you…”

“My brother is a lot of things, but a liar isn't one of them. Tell the truth now, you don't have any vapid comments for me, maybe about this one?” He gestured toward the J branded onto his cheek. “Everyone's always so curious about it. If you want to talk, talk. Don't let me stop you.”

I gently squeezed his hand. “Jace, they're not worth it. Come on, let's get some air, yeah?”

He slowly nodded, frowning. “... Yeah, alright baby.”

I nodded, letting him lead the way. As we passed the girls, I leaned in to whisper; “it's Christmas, so I'm going to be nice to you today. But if I hear one more unkind word about my man tonight I will find you, and I will show you exactly how we handle these things on the ‘bad side of town'. Got it?”

The ringleader of their group sneered at me; “what are you gonna do, sweetheart?”

I looked her over; “... Let's just say you'll look more interesting when I'm done.”

“Is that a threat?!” She growled.

“Of course not. It's a guarantee.” I smirked, rejoining my boys as they stepped into the gardens.

The snow swirled lazily around us, and Jason leaned against a stone railing. I gently stroked his back, and he sighed softly, holding me close. “... You weren't particularly subtle. Someone will have heard what you said to them.”

“Fine, they can share the story far and wide for all I care. It will spare me from having to repeat myself.”

He chuckled softly, looking over at me. “... It's supposed to be my job to defend your honor…”

“How exactly will you do that, Todd? Shoot the trollops?” Damian smirked a bit. “That will be even less subtle than her threats.”

“... Did they say something?” He frowned.

“Damian didn't let them.”

He smirked; “I was not about to let them speak unkindly of my favorite sister.”

Jason chuckled, ruffling his hair a bit. “Good.”

I smiled softly, kissing Jason's cheek. “You feel alright?”

He leaned in, nodding slowly. “Yeah … I just … I'd almost forgotten what that was like.” He leaned against me, and I held him close. “... At least they don't know about the rest of them though.”

I cupped his cheeks, kissing his forehead. “They’re nothing. They’re insects taking cheap shots at a king because it makes them feel better about how insignificant they are. It lets them pretend they don’t burn with jealousy every time they see you.”

He chuckled weakly, cupping my cheek and pulling me into a kiss. “A king, huh? Does that make you my queen?”

“I suppose that's for you to decide, my king~” I giggled softly.

Damian gagged a bit. “Ok, both of you need to stop, or I'll have to follow Thomas around for a while.”

I woke on Christmas Eve to an insistent knocking. Jason's arms tightened around me and he groaned softly. “... Whaaat?”

“Snowball fight!!!” Duke roared from the other side of the door.

Jason shot out of bed, stumbling for the closet.

“Woah!” I blinked a bit. “What's going on?”

“Snowball fight! Get dressed!” He grinned, tossing some warm clothes onto the bed for me. I chuckled softly, pulling them on. Jay grabbed my hand as soon as I was dressed, pulling me toward the door.

We met Duke, Tim, and Steph in the foyer. Tim grinned, leading us all outside. The grounds were blanketed in pristine white, with more flakes fluttering down around us. “Come on, we gotta make a base!”

We ran for the yard. Dick and Bruce were already building a shelter while Damian and Cass made snowballs. We hunkered down a good distance from them.

“Duke, Steph, you're on snowballs!” Tim announced. They got started, and the rest of us began creating a snow hill to hide behind.

“Sister! It's not too late, you can join the winning side!” Damian called across the yard.

“Funny, I was going to say the same thing to you!” I laughed. “Join us, baby brother, and our victory will be glorious!”

“I will not betray my father!” He roared, laughing. “If you will not join us, you are the enemy! There will be no mercy, sister! Reconsider your loyalties!”

“You reconsider yours, little one!”

Jason laughed, offering me a snowball. “Ladies first?”

I grinned, kissing his cheek, and threw. The ball burst against Bruce's back, and the game was on. Soon I could barely make out Tim's attempts to shout instructions to our team over the sounds of laughter and snowballs bursting all around us.

We must have spent hours out there. Duke snuck away at one point, bringing back donuts and thermoses of coffee. After a long while, a taxi van came up the driveway. Bruce called time out as Bernard hopped out. The driver lowered a ramp, and Babs rolled out as well.

Tim beamed, running over to greet his boyfriend, and Dick ran over to give Babs a hug. Everyone gravitated toward the house to say hi, and Alfred called us all in for hot chocolates. Jay wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into a couch to cuddle and warm up.

“Should we do first presents now?” Dick grinned.

“First presents?”

“On Christmas Eve everyone gets to open one present!” Steph grinned, pressing a box into Cass's hand. “Open this one, Cass!”

Everyone took turns opening gifts. Jason tried to give me one, but Tim shouted; “wait!”

I jumped, looking over to him. “... Tim, we had an agreement. You got me jewelry for my first gala, that was my Christmas present from you.”

He grinned, holding out a box. It had blue wrapping paper with a big silver bow. “Yes, but this isn't a Christmas present. This is a Christmas Eve present. … And if you don't buy that, it's a Hanukkah present.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “... Are you Jewish?”

“Bruce is.”

“... Do you celebrate Hanukkah, or are you using it to make me accept your gift?”

“Sometimes we do, when his cousin visits. But otherwise, it’s hard enough to get him to do a one day holiday.” He shrugged, pressing the box into my hands.

“... Ok, fine. Thank you, Tim.” I chuckled, rolling my eyes affectionately as I took the box. I carefully unwrapped it, blinking in shock; Tim had put together an assortment of rare and luxurious spices, including saffron, Tahitian vanilla beans, and several things I'd never even heard of. “... Woah! Tim, this is so much…”

He grinned. “You like it? I figured you probably haven't had a chance to cook with some of these before.”

“You'd be right. Thank you so much!” I gave Tim a quick hug, and Damian peered at the spices.

“Sister, we must make saffron cookies. Please?”

I grinned. “Sounds good, kiddo! Next weekend?”

He beamed and nodded, leaning against me a bit. I stroked his hair, holding him close as Bruce and Dick brought out some games. The rest of the day was spent playing and eating. Bruce surprised me with how enthusiastic he was; given how Dick and Tim spoke about it, I had assumed he would participate in a little bit, then disappear for a while. Instead, he spent the whole day with us, and he even seemed to be having fun.

Bernard and Babs stayed for dinner before heading back home, sharing a cab into the city again. At bedtime Damian had me go up with him to tuck him in. I sat on the side of his bed as he got situated, smiling softly as I offered him a small red box. “I have a present for you, baby brother.”

He tilted his head, curious; “not tomorrow?”

“You'll get a present tomorrow too, but I thought you'd want to receive this one in private.” He opened it slowly, sliding my old ipod into his hand. “I recorded something special for you.”

He looked up at me, sliding an earbud into his ear before pushing play. His face lit up as the song started. “... You recorded my lullabies?”

I nodded, grinning; “so that you can listen to them even if I can't sing for you myself.”

He grinned, hugging me tight. “... Thank you, sister.”

I stroked his back gently, kissing the top of his head. “You're welcome, baby.”

I set the ipod on his bedside table for him, tucking him in. Once he was comfy I cleared my throat and began to sing. The words flowed, almost effortlessly, and I silently thanked the grandma's who'd spent so much time helping me practice at the Arab Cultural Center. Damian's eyes stayed glued to my face as I sang, a look of shock and wonder frozen on his face.

As I finished the song, he whispered; “... You … you learned an Arabic lullaby … for me?”

I nodded, smiling softly; “I know my accent is very American, but the ladies at the cultural center said it was coming along. What do you think?”

“... It is very American, … but it's perfect. … Can … Can you do it again?”

I nodded, singing the song again. He curled up and I gently trailed a finger down the bridge of his nose, lulling him to sleep. His eyes fluttered shut, and soon he was snoring softly.

In the morning I woke to Jason's fingers delicately tracing designs on my shoulder. I smiled softly, leaning in to kiss his chest. “Morning~”

“Morning, doll~ … merry Christmas~”

“Merry Christmas~ … ready for your present?”

He chuckled softly. “I don't know, am I?”

“Not that kind of present, silly.” I chuckled, stretching as I sat up and grabbed a big bag of presents. I found Jason's, offering him the red and gold wrapping. He kissed me gently before carefully popping it open. He slowly smiled, looking over the handmade book inside. The cover was a watercolor painting of the pair of us, Jason cupping my chin about to kiss me. It was a perfect mirror of the kiss scene in the 2005 adaptation of Pride and Prejudice. He carefully opened the book, reading the scenes I had dutifully transcribed; scenes that reminded me of us.

“It's beautiful, baby girl, thank you.” he smiled softly, pulling me into a kiss. “I love you~”

I grinned, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I love you too~”

He smiled softly, offering me a silver wrapped gift. “Your turn.” I grinned, opening it to find a book; ‘Love in Prose: An Annotator's Book of Love Poems'. “I was going to write something for you, but … well, you know I struggle with words. I try, but they don't come to me the way they come to you, you always know what to say. ... I did find some of my own words; they're not very pretty, but I can promise you that they are true. But, mostly I found myself quoting the experts. ... So, I thought it best to just … give you the experts.”

I flipped open the book, reading the first poem; Annabel Lee by Edgar Allan Poe.

“Oh, Jason … it's perfect.” I swallowed the lump forming in my throat, hugging him tight. “I love it! Thank you~”

He hugged back, kissing my temple. We cuddled like that for a little while, until a soft knock on the door interrupted the quiet.

“Todd? Sister?”

“Morning, kiddo~”

He popped the door open, still wearing his pj's. “Hi. Breakfast is ready.”

I nodded, getting up. “Thanks Damian!”

Jason stretched, popping his back, and picked up the presents. “Ok, let's go!”

We met everyone in the family room, and Jason set the presents out. I passed out hand painted snowflake shaped platters loaded with cookies, brownies, and fudge. Damian's platter had extra ma'amoul, but everyone got a selection. Jason passed out mugs filled with hot chocolate packets, candy canes, and marshmallow toppers.

“So cute! Did you guys paint these yourselves?” Steph grinned.

I nodded, beaming. “We went to the place in the mall! Jay did the mugs, and I did the platters! And we made the treats ourselves!”

Everyone got comfy, and more presents were passed out. Bruce gave everyone gift cards for a bunch of fun things around Gotham; mine included several coffee shops and restaurants near Gotham University, as well as craft stores, and book stores. Jason, Damian and I all also received year passes to the Gotham Zoo. Dick had opted for practical gifts; lots of cozy slippers, favorite snacks, and upgrades for people's home goods. Tim gave high tech presents; lots of hologram art and smart devices. Steph passed around self care items, all luxury brands. Finally, it was my turn. I gave everyone their gifts, chewing my lower lip a bit. I really hoped they liked them.

For Dick, I had embroidered an elephant head onto a royal blue scarf. Elephants are clever, and friendly, and many have a surprising sense of humor, much like Dick. Tim received a handmade journal; the cover had a watercolor painting of a dragon guarding his forest. For Babs, I painted a cityscape, with heavenly sunbeams peaking between the buildings, illuminating otherwise dark corners of the city, just like she did for all of us. For Steph, a purple beanie with green vines and a large white dahlia embroidered on - the flower of kindness.

Damian received an emerald green scarf with a black and gray wolf cub and a silver crescent moon. Wolves are loyal, and even a young pup is fiercely protective of their family. Perfect for my baby brother. Cass's black beanie was embroidered with lavender and rosemary - herbs said to foster clarity, something she seemed to bring to every situation. For Duke, I had embroidered solar motifs in gold on a white scarf. Alfred received a watercolor painting of a fjord; a peaceful, but defensibly sound landscape. And finally, for Bruce, a black scarf with colorful fringe and embroidered stripes representing each of his children.

Dick and Steph put their presents on immediately, complimenting my choices, and Damian shot up to run to the tree. He pulled a large flat rectangle wrapped in green out from behind the tree, bringing it over to me.

“Open this next.”

I nodded, grinning, and carefully peeled the paper away. As soon as I realized what he was giving me, I felt tears threaten to fill my eyes. “Damian, you're giving me the painting?”

He nodded. “You said it made you feel beautiful.”

I nodded quickly, sliding the paper away. The portrait he'd painted of the three of us on my couch was even more beautiful than I'd remembered. “It does. It's incredible. Thank you, baby brother.”

“I haven't seen this painting, what did he do?” Dick craned his neck to look over my shoulder, and I turned the painting around for everyone to see.

“Woah … you're getting so good, Damian!” Steph grinned.

He flushed a bit, clearly pleased. “Thank you…”

Bruce nodded. “It's remarkable.”

Damian smiled, taking his seat again. Jay wrapped an arm around my shoulders, and Duke took his turn passing out gifts.

Divider by: @saradika-graphics

Fanart in the header by: @crowkip

Taglist (open):

@jawdropforkpop @krys0210 @snowy-violet @superthoughts @wordsfromshona @mystic60 @iwannabealocalcryptid @morstuavitamea-a @frosty--giants @arisa191 @prized-jules @phoenix666stuff @dinonuggysandhuggus @anuttellaa @whore-of-many-hot-men @cottage-worm @v1ckycheesue @roastyyytoastyyy @sarakmec @thestarcatcher7297 @stupidlyunhinged @mishkapi @mermaidgirl-11 @bunniboo0015 @bibibusinessman @iimichie

[uhreo]

"rivius?"

the tiny voice of a young girl that held a hint of vulnerability behind it bounced around the walls of the empty room, it was devoid of any life except for the two kids who were inside hiding from the boisterous voices of other nobles outside.

despite the thunderous music that went on just outside of this little room the young demon still heard her voice that meekly called for him, his attention leaving the toys that he was tinkering with. "what is it? is something bothering you?" his voice was sharp and authoritative—as always—but there was an underlying softness and a veiled fondness whenever he addresses you but you don't seem to pick up on it. "I heard some of the adults talking– and i wasn't eavesdropping! I was just passing by and–...uhm.."

your face burned with shame but also with an emotion that you were scared to put a name on, your mouth couldn't seem to form the next words and rivius immediately picked up on your discomfort as his long ears twitched— a sign that he was listening and waiting for you to continue your words.

"I heard them saying something about how my family would be moving away from here and relocating in the human realm."

your mouth moved quickly to spout those words that you've been dreading to tell him about and receiving no reaction from him made you think that perhaps he had not heard what you had said.

but then his movements suddenly ceased and so was his tinkering, he looked to be frozen and you were scared that maybe you had offended him with your words.

"I'm still unsure though since my parents haven't told me any news about moving away and hey! maybe it isn't true and then we could just, you know, forget about what I just said–" your lips quivered as you desperately spewed out whatever came to your mind to try and comfort the boy in front of you that was still frozen, you didn't want him to think you were abandoning him—

"you're leaving?"

your train of thoughts was interrupted by the tense and irritated voice that thinly shrouded the immense anger and sadness boiling inside rivius' small body that made his ears twitch and his tail swish side to side in a distraught manner.

"w-well as I said before–" you were beginning to feel uneasy now with the way his head suddenly snapped in your direction and as you stared at his eyes, you couldn't deny that the emotional storm that was welling deep inside him that reflected through his eye made your hands start to feel clammy with sweat as you clenched your hands into a fist to control its shaking.

“you're not going to leave, I refuse to let you leave me. you simply can't just leave me all alone here.”

he stood up.

and you suddenly felt so small under his looming figure despite him being short— his dark eyes stared at you with such intense emotions that it made your heart beat faster.

you feel nervous—

no.

you were scared.

why did you suddenly start feeling so scared of him? of rivius? he was your bestfriend! he wouldn't harm you so why were you afraid to avert your gaze from his scrutinizing eyes that felt like it belonged to a predator and you were starting to feel like a defenseless prey that was about to meet its end once you take your eyes off him.

his slow deliberate footsteps echoed and not once did his eyes leave your own for a second, it felt like you were getting stalked by a predator and you just stood there frozen as cold sweat started dripping from your forehead.

“why did you suddenly go quiet? I'm not scaring you am I? no, that would make you want to leave me even more.”

... tbc?

@ backstage notes— this is going to be so long if i continue and it was just supposed to be a little short blurb to get me out of writer's block and I love rivius so much hahaha. this is going to be a full blown oneshot in the future, plot is supposed to be rivius having his childhood friend (you / reader) leave him > them meeting when they're adults > him finally having you by his side again by being his assistant. this is purely self-indulgent!! meaning none of this is canon to the oc's ( rivius ) story, rivius belongs to @2-dsimp !! also, both are kids / children in here hence why reader / you is easily intimidated by rivius but i tried to keep his fancy speech style but still make it fitting for a child.

[jessamine-rose]

⋆*•̩̩͙❅*̩̩͙‧͙˚  Mistletoe  ˚‧͙*̩̩͙❆•̩̩͙*⋆

Read my Yandere! Capitano fics first (੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭

Belated Merry Christmas, everyone!! Guess who got hit with Yandere! Capitano x Damsel! Darling inspiration on the night of Christmas and decided to write a late drabble…….I hope you all enjoy this fluffy gift ヽ(；▽；)ノ

Note:: Fem reader, this is not a dark fic but it is connected to a yandere series

♡ 0.5k words under the cut ♡

On the last day of the winter holidays, you ask Capitano if he would like to see your flower collection.

At first, Capitano thinks this is no different from his wife’s daily routine. When you aren’t pressing fresh flowers in your notebook, you are flipping through the previous pages to check on your collection.

In both scenarios, Capitano likes to observe you. Most enjoyable is when you go out of your way to invite him—those sessions always end in nostalgic conversations and a batch of newly preserved flowers given to him.

As such, he predicts a similar gift for this holiday.

The bedroom is silent, save for hushed voices and the rustling of paper.

It is a rare moment of peace after weeks of Fatui meetings and festivities. Once again, you are seated on your husband’s lap. As you turn the pages of your notebook, Capitano takes note of certain flowers.

Dandelions, dendrobium, Sumeru roses, forget-me-nots, astilbe, laurestine…

And so on. Each flower invokes a shared memory, a precious moment frozen in time. But you don’t reach the end of your collection.

Rather, you stop at a page of yellowish-green flower clusters. Before you can read out the name of the plant, Capitano has already recognized it.

Mistletoe.

“Do you remember this?” you ask him.

“...Yes,” he replies. Beneath his mask, his eyes widen with understanding. “Mistletoe, acquired during our trip to Fontaine. It had fed on the branches of the trees growing behind the House of the Hearth.”

Your voice takes on a playful tone. “I’m glad that Arlecchino allowed us to pick a few flowers. The mistletoe that grows in Fontaine is quite similar to Mondstadt’s.”

One sprig of mistletoe has not been glued to the page. You pick it up by the stem, twirling it between your fingers.

“At this time of the year,” you whisper, “I’d see this plant everywhere in Mondstadt, hanging over doorways and ceilings. The berries are quite pretty…have you heard of this tradition?”

So this was your strategy.

His thumb traces circles on your waist. “I have. Including other details.”

You turn to face him, a faint twinkle in your eye. “Is that so?”

The preserved mistletoe is placed on the desk, next to your closed notebook.

“I hope you like it,” you tell him. A small smile makes its way to your face as you straddle his lap. “I’ll give you your other gifts later.”

He pulls you closer, caressing your cheek. “I sincerely appreciate it.”

Capitano bows his head and you take the hint, placing your hands on either side of his mask to take it off. It joins the flowers on the desk.

And in the kisses that follow, a wish is shared.

“May we enjoy many more holidays together, my beloved flower.”

♡

Craving more Capitano and mistletoe?? (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)

Fun fact, my first brainrot of 2024 was this New Year’s post so I rlly wanted my last one to also be Capitano x Damsel. Starting and ending the year with CapiDamsel kisses <3

Special thanks to @diodellet for beta-reading this!! I also want to take this moment to thank my mutuals and everyone who read my work this year!! I hope you all enjoyed my last fic of 2024, and happy holidays╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

Tag a Capitano enjoyer!! @leftdestiny-posts @brynn-lear @harmonysanreads @naraven @mochinon-yah @pranabefall @euniveve @zhongrin @jymwahuwu @silentmoths @stickyspeckledlight @teabutmakeitazure @nicebonescomrades

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Some James, Lily, and Sirius notes

I needed to figure out for my fic what Sirius was doing after graduation and before Azkaban. Like, what James, Lily, and Sirius were doing for a living, you know. The common fanon consensus is that Sirius and James were Aurors, but I found an interview that gave the closest to canon answer that we have:

Q: Harry often wondered about his parents lives before he died. What did Lily, James, Remus, Lupin and Sirius do after Hogwarts? JKR: To take Remus first, Remus was unemployable. Poor Lupin, prior to Dumbledore taking him in, led a really impoverished life because no one wanted to employ a werewolf. The other three were full-time members of the Order of the Phoenix. If you remember when Lily, James and co. were at school, the first war was raging. It never reached the heights that the second war reached, because the Ministry was never infiltrated to that extent but it was a very bad time, the same disappearances, the same deaths. So that’s what they did, they left school. James has gold, enough to support Sirius and Lily. So I suppose they lived off a private income. But they were full-time fighters, that’s what they did, until Lily fell pregnant with Harry. So then they went into hiding.

(Interview)

And I found this answer hilarious and it implies 2 things:

That my assumption that James and Lily went into hiding prior to Harry's birth when the prophecy was made is likely what the intention was.

And that there is a nonzero chance Sirius lived with James and Lily at least part-time. He was, after all, living off of James' inheritance (while Remus didn't). JKR stated James supported Sirius and Lily, not Remus who was suspected to be a traitor at the time.

The mental image of a married James and Lily with an infant Harry and Sirius all in the same house is hilarious and I just wanted to share it.

We know how close James and Sirius were:

“Naturally,” said Madam Rosmerta, with a small laugh. “Never saw one without the other, did you? The number of times I had them in here — ooh, they used to make me laugh. Quite the double act, Sirius Black and James Potter!”

(PoA, Ch10)

They were so co-dependant they enchanted the two-way mirrors becouse they couldn't bear to stay in separate detentions from each other. James and Sirius' friendship was insane.

And Lily's letter to Sirius actually hints the situation wasn't far off from what JKR said in the above interview:

We were so sorry you couldn’t come, but the Order’s got to come first, and Harry’s not old enough to know it’s his birthday anyway! James is getting a bit frustrated shut up here, he tries not to show it but I can tell—also Dumbledore’s still got his Invisibility Cloak, so no chance of little excursions. If you could visit, it would cheer him up so much. Wormy was here last weekend.

(DH, Ch10)

It's made clear Lily wrote to Sirius outside of her relationship with James, that she and Sirius were close by that point, and that Sirius came by whenever he could. I don't know, I just find these three and their potential dynamic in these few years between graduation and the end of the war super interesting.

like Lily and James are married, James and Sirius are best-best friends, and Lily is clearly very close to Sirius by her death. He's probably her closest friend (or one of them) when she dies. And, like, these three are raising baby Harry between them.

Like, Lily asking Sirius to come over to cheer up James... idk... it makes me feel things.

[spacejip]

"okay so tell me about yourself"

"it kinda sounds like a job interview" you laugh. "you are right" he shrugs as he eats one of the fruits you cut and put in a bowl before sitting down on the couch.

you and chenle have been going on dates for a couple of months now. but almost every time, you guys ended up doing other things instead of actually getting to know each other. it's not as if you two were avoiding conversations, it just happened to be like that.

"but I really mean it, tell me anything... or everything, in fact" he nods encouraging you to talk.

when he said that, your eyes lit up. your face full of enthusiasm. you didn't want to show that you were that excited to have this kind of conversations, but you really were. and he knew it as soon as your face changed, so there was no point in hiding it anymore.

"it might sound silly, but I really love this part of 'getting to know each other'. it's just so fun to listen about whatever the other person likes and the little details" you say happily.

you didn't notice of course, but while you talked, he was looking at you with so much adoration in his eyes. chenle knew he was in love with you, but didn't want to say anything until he had at least a minimal hint about it being reciprocated. he knew you too. not the oddly specific things, but the exact amount to already fall in love.

how many times had he thought about what would you say if he confessed so early? he imagined you saying "you don't even know my favorite color, chenle" so that's why he was determined to learn every detail about you today.

"i love it too, it's a shame we didn't have the time to do it before" he shakes his head. "now, tell me" you giggle at his eagerness.

you look at him one more time, to be sure he actually wanted to. he nods and you finally start.

"i love the color red and purple. i love cats. also, i love listening to music. it might sound weird, but i love studying because it's the perfect excuse to listen to my favorite songs without being interrupted. i like to draw, but i'm not really good at it. i love the 'oversized pants and tiny tops' combination. i love the stars and planets- actually, did you know i wanted to be an astronaut?" he chuckled when you interrupted yourself. "...but I decided to switch paths because i want to have a family one day, and i couldn't be there for my kids and husband if i'm in space, right?"

you looked like you had a million other things to say, but you wanted to listen about his own stuff too. "it's your turn now" you say this time, a hint of shyness showing in your face because of how much you managed to say in two minutes.

he, again, noticed it. "it's alright, i really enjoy listening to you" at this point you were all red because of his confession.

chenle could listen to you for hours non stop. even though he was the type to talk... the type to be listened to.

“maybe today i’ll finally tell her" he thought.

[pastorfutureletthembe]

Lu Guang is about to enter the stage. It's not the first night of the representation, he knows his lines perfectly. As a comedian, he has some liberty, he can improve, he can give his own interpretation of the character through emotions and gesture, but ultimately he has to stick to the plot. I also think the curtain has strong connotations. First, he knows what's on both sides. What the audience sees, must see, the fact the show must go on whatever happens behind the scenes. Second, here, the curtain has the 4th wall role, when the boundaries between reality and fiction/fantasy blur. The curtain's motif is a starry sky, and we all know by now that stars are often seen on merch. I personally believe it also gives Lu Guang a godly role, as the "man in the sky" or "who can rip the fabric of the universe." He has great powers, great responsibilities as well, and the fact he's the only one who the countdown posters hint on his powers (the blue eye hidden in the darkness of the curtains), underlines that idea. I'll always refer to Odin whenever Lu Guang's eyes shine in official artworks, so I don't want to be redundant but there it is:

Behind him, behind the scenes, a real starry sky exists. Does it mean a fake universe is only hiding a real, more complex, one? Does it mean that Lu Guang is playing a fictional character in an ersatz of what was/is, but the reality of tragic and traumatic events still weight on him? Truth be told, Lu Guang thinks he has control over this world, because it exists in a bubble, in a timeloop. In actuality, Lu Guang is playing a game he doesn't know the rules of, but soon enough, the pros are going to show him how it's done. He's in kindergarten, guys.

Is Cheng Xiaoshi banned from the theater or is he the main character of the play? His poster is one we could regard as the play's poster, it involves mystery to be uncovered, and the only way he can do it is through a photograph. There is the banner, telling us it's forbidden to go there. The manor is behind him. It reminds me of SKYFALL in James Bond haha. Going back to the origins. He's truly going through the Fool's journey towards his end.

I'm just going to put this here, no further comment needed:

I also think it's interesting that Cheng Xiaoshi and Liu Xiao are fully facing us.

Qiao Ling seems to be aware to be both a character and a performer. She is in transition, in contemplation. She has an award for her performance but she seems to be troubled. It's only natural that my mind goes to the portrait of Dorian Gray looking at this artwork. “The portrait” becomes an autonomous, independent entity through mirrors, in which Dorian meets his distorted self: all that is irrational, instinctive and hidden in his own psyche. Through Oscar Wilde's masterpiece, we witness the interplay between self-perception, the fear of aging, and the pursuit of eternal youth. Even though the obvious parallel would be with Narcissus, I do think it echoes Qiao Ling's flower, hyacinth, in the young and fragile existence except in her case, you can add mourning into the mix. The theme also relates to obsession. Qiao Ling is known to put things under the rug, not facing the issues of her shortcomings, but she obviously wants to change that. The "connecting dots" imagery we saw in the PV released lately shows she's on a journey herself.

I still think Xia Fei's role this season is to be only a tool, a face and body to be borrowed, a playable character. He is the star of the show, and his position looks a bit like the Mona Lisa. Meaning, he is and is supposed to be beautiful, perfect, iconic. He is mysterious because we know nothing of him and can only theorize. He personifies whatever we want. That's who he is as well: a mirror to our desires, subjects to interpretation. That is what struck me at first sight, though. Mona Lisa. We also see his shadow and I think it is an important clue. Presenting as a white piece, a pawn, could it be that his dark side is the most overlooked warning of death?

As I mentioned before, Liu Xiao is there to meet his favorite performer, Lu Guang. There is a hint of parasocial relationship there; delusion and obsession. In 2024, being part of the audience is powerful. A spectator has a voice and the mass community, a fandom for example, can influence production and representation. It is an external force and you better want it in your corner. He also could be a producer. Either way, the goal is to impress, please him, and you are probably nothing without him. He has all the access behind the scenes, he can try and recruit, he's here for his own profit and he has the power to destroy careers. Through him, though, it is easier to reach a goal.

Vein, I have little to say. He's shown as wealthy and I think that's a way to tell us he is powerful and takes his power and influence for granted. People like this, they don't like when their authority is challenged. Maybe there is some chinese culture at play that I don't know about. We often forget Link Click is a chinese media but social and cultural context bleed into the story more often than not so I'll be happy to know a chinese myth is hidden in plain sight there.

Lu Guang about to pass through the curtains [and step onto the stage].

Cheng Xiaoshi is outside with his camera, banned from entering the theatre.

Qiao Ling looking into the vanity mirror but not getting ready in any way

Xia Fei looking like a big star with his team of assistants helping him prepare

Liu Xiao sitting at the front and carrying a bouquet [for his favorite performer]

Finally, Vein, in his own private VIP booth or something

[meeinthesea]

THE COUNTDOWN TO FERVOUR — gojo satoru

outline — who knew a new year’s party would have you and satoru ending the year in a more than unforgettable manner?

contains — gojo x afab!reader, established relationship, fluff, smut, oral (blowjob), fingering, hints at top!satoru (?), a bit of plot (not that much honestly :/), let me know if i forget anything !

wc — 2.9k

a/n — my first time writing smut, i hope it's not that awkward... also sorry for any typos :>

“we don’t have to do this...” satoru says, his voice low, almost a plea. he leans back against the couch, restless gaze flickering between you and the carpet, “it's fine, really.”

no, it isn't. his pants feel way too tight, rough fabric stretching taut on his lean muscles, and not to mention the painful throbbing pulsing down his thighs makes it hard to breathe, to think but he still holds himself back — for you.

he doesn't want to lose control, doesn't want to pressure you into doing something that might be uncomfortable for you — something you might regret later on.

he swallows and puts his hands on your shoulders, pushing you back when your hands brush against his belt — your touch a bolt of electricity spreading through the nerves in his system.

satoru shakes his head, catching your hands in his, feeling you squeeze him gently, a low apology on the tip of your tongue, “it's okay, baby...”

he can't even breathe properly not when you're this close to him, your voice dripping with the same emotion that has plagued every cell of his brain, sweet floral perfume infiltrating his nostrils, travelling straight to his lower body, leaving it all tingly and almost numb, “not your fault...”

and it really isn't. no one knows how things accelerated to something like this — a situation both you and satoru don't know how to handle.

but the nagging voice in his mind tells him that it was indeed your fault.

the moment you stepped out of the door hand in hand with satoru was the moment the downfall of his self-control began.

a few hours ago, the two of you set off to a new year's party, you were oh so graciously invited to by one of your close friends. and as a respectful friend, you couldn't miss attenting, so you just had to drag satoru with you, knowing he would definitely not mind some time off from his duties.

the party was a blast. the moment you entered, everything and everyone was full of life. energy bubbling in every corner, loud music blaring from the speakers accompanies the continuous chatter of what seemed like a hundred people — all smushed together in a small beach side villa.

just your typical and boring year end get together that satoru was getting tired of fast.

though he certainly wasn't disappointed, dashing straight to the sweets and snacks counter the moment you both exchanged greetings with the host, “this tastes so so good,” he nearly moaned at the sweet and vanilla flavour bursting on his taste buds as he chewed onto the soft bread, gobbling down the entire piece of pastry in one go, “easy there toru, we still need to eat dinner.”

the massive buffet arranged for dinner was truly a sight out of this world. the numerous delicacies from around the globe decorating the long table along with the fresh and delicious aroma of the spices and the condiments heavy in the air had his mouth watering even before he made it to the first serving.

by the time dinner ended, satoru was struggling to walk with how full his belly was. gods, but he really didn’t want to say goodbye to the dishes delivered straight from the kitchens of heaven itself, “can we please ask them to pack some for us?” you only looked at him blankly before hitting him on his head, which immediately has him slapping your rear in front of everyone.

aside from catching up with your long-lost friends and co-workers, you and satoru were waiting for a year-end surprise, and here's the problem. sure, they must have served something (satoru reckons it was definitely alcohol) while both of you were lounging on the balcony outside, you must have drank maybe a couple of glasses or perhaps it was him snatching every cup from the server's tray.

though you reckon it was him, wrapping his arm around you, tracing his hand up and down your back, which lingered dangerously close to your lower body. or maybe it was the way you looked at him — hooded eyes staring at him with your plump cheeks reflecting off the red from the fairy lights, lips puckered slightly as if anticipating something — the one look he had never seen on you before. but he knows that it was your fingers curling in his collar, slotting your lips against his the moment the countdown hit zero. fireworks erupted in the background, and he swore some ignited in his chest, too.

yeah, it was definitely you blowing the fire that had begun to flicker in his body. naughty girl.

no one knows what happened after that. through hazy vision, he stirred you both out of the hordes of now drunk and wasted people, eager to get you away from any prying eyes, not wanting anyone to see you in such state. something so carnal, lecherous jumps in his heart, the heat between you surged, raw and unrelenting, leaving him trembling with the need to hold on — or to give in.

the apartment is silent except for the low humming of the heater and whirlwind of snow hitting the glass of the windows. the silence stretches between you and satoru, thick with tension neither of you knows how to break it. his hands are still on yours, holding them tight, though his grip falters when your eyes meet, “satoru... please?”

your words almost have him choking on air. his chest rises and falls with uneven breaths. he is trying to think — trying to be rational — but it doesn't help when you're thinking with something else rather than your brain. he trembles when he sees the way you're looking at him, like he's the only thing in this world.

“are you sure?” satoru croaks out, hands moving to rest on your hips, giving them a gentle squeeze. he wants to hear it properly — wants to hear you say it that you want him too as much as he wants you right now.

“yes,” your reply is instantaneous, and the flickering flame flares into something akin to a conflagration, successfully destroying what little was left of his self-control.

it's all satoru needs as he slumps back against the leather. his hand cups your cheek, softly grazing his thumb against your flushed skin before dropping down to your parted lips, pushing the limb into your mouth, “suck.”

it's not a request but an order, one that you're more than willing to abide by. you take no time in dropping to your knees, settling in between his spread legs. satoru watches with droopy eyes as your tongue peeks out, slowly tracing his skin before taking his thumb deeper. you feel so wet and so warm as he pushes on your tongue that has him wondering how good it will feel when he has your mouth wrapped around something else.

satoru pulls back his thumb, grazing against your wet lips, “go on, show me how much you want me.” his hands move up to your head, pulling your hair together and tying them in a not so clean ponytail (you wonder where he got that hair tie from), “it's all yours, baby.”

you shuffle closer towards the edge, running your hands up and down his thighs, “is it?” looking up at him with a small teasing smirk, eyelashes fluttering at his lovesick expression.

oh god, you didn't know that the blood pumping in his heart is all because of you, that all of his eyes exist with the sole purpose of seeing you — observing you, that everything which made up gojo satoru belonged to you.

satoru wants you to know the effect you had on him, wants you to know how much you got him running, “feel that?” one of his hands holds your own over the throbbing mess in his pants. it twitches to life as you rub your palm against the hardness, “it's all you baby.” and it is because no one else could have satoru moaning out loud like a fucking porn star upon the simplest of touches.

“can i...?” you whisper soflty, meeting his lustful gaze.

the meaning behind your question is not lost to him as he nods his head, eager for you to take him. he feels dizzy just by watching you open his belt, clinking sounds ringing in his ears, shooting pleasure down his body. his heart melts a little as you press a soft kiss right on the bulge in his pants.

you motion for him to lift himself, and he does so finally revealing himself, as you effortlessly slide off his pants and his boxers in one go, leaving nothing to hide his ever-growing desire for you.

he's so beautiful, standing tall and proud, tip flushed with deep red. you give it an experimental lick along the slit collecting the remnants of ooze before kissing it softly. satoru gasps above you, your name falling in a soft plea.

your kisses move across his thighs, decorating the pale milky skin with splotches of red and purple, marking him as yours. he looks so divine sitting in front of you — like a god whom you're yearning for, whose praise you want to drown yourself in.

when you fully take him in, tip hitting the end of your throat, satoru swears he sees the pearly gates looming over him, and god does he feel so close to cumming, “e-easy baby fuck, or you're gonna have m-me haa coming in no time,” his hand comes up to rest on your head, giving it a soft squeeze.

he feels you giggle around him before resuming your previous ministrations to get him closer to the sweet, sweet release. your tongue flicks around the tip, which immediately results in him clenching his thighs, a low guttural sound escaping him.

god, he sounds so hot, looks so hot— dishevelled hair with sweat beading to the tips, his ironed shirt is all crumpled with a few missing buttons giving way to his soaked chest — so masculine. a perfect picture rivalling that of a statue of some greek deity.

“just like that baby fuck!” you hum upon his praise, vibrations shooting up his spine, mingling with the tight knot forming in his abdomen, “so perfect for me, aren't y-you sweetheart?”

yes, you are. his sweet baby, his angel who is always ready to pleasure him, to put him first — your lord. nothing exists in the world right now. it's only you and him — a god and his worshipper.

all his senses are overloaded with you. all he sees is you looking so perfect under him. all he hears is the loud, wet sounds as you work your mouth down his length to his balls, sucking each one of them while fondling with the other. golden nectar seeps through the slit, coating your mouth. he feels so heavy, twitching violently with the need to cum — to paint you white with his essence.

“oh god, b-baby i'm—” satoru is so close that he can almosy taste the sweet heavenly release, and god does your mouth do wonders on him. he's panting, one hand clawing at the couch while the other holds your head in place, right where you belong.

it's so hot... you are so hot.

when you lock eyes with him, all the while he's throbbing in your mouth, satoru tips over the edge, falling straight into the ocean of unadulterated bliss. he swears he almost goes blind, his body numb with how hard he's coming down your throat. shocks and shocks of pleasure travel through his body, heart drumming against his ribcage with each wave. he grips on your head, tight not wanting to let you go.

a loud, broken whimper of your name echoes around the space as he comes down from the thrill of the earth-shattering orgasm. you suck him through it, not wanting to waste any drop of the precious liquid.

you place a final kiss right at the base, separating with wet pop, leaving behind a string of saliva connecting your parted lips with his tip that has his stomach churning again.

“how was it?” you whisper, hands still kneeding at the flesh of his thighs. satoru barely has any energy left, heaving above you, trying to form some coherent sentences, “so good baby—so good.” a blissed out expression paints his face with little sighs leaving his mouth as he thumbs again at your now wet mouth, “c'mere...”

he pulls you up by your elbows, placing you on his lap now, “so good f'me...” he presses his mouth on yours, swallowing the sudden gasp upon your surprise. the slow calculated pecks quickly turn into open-mouthed kisses, his tongue curling with yours, moaning into you as he tastes himself on you.

satoru is touchy and so clingy, groping and squeezing your flesh so hard you're sure he must be leaving marks underneath your shirt. his hands hold you tight, close to his body as if you'd disappear right before his very eyes. he separates from you, moving to suck down your neck all the way to your ear, smudging red against your soft skin.

“lay down for me, yeah?” he whispers in your ear before taking your ear lobe between his teeth, biting it softly. you hum, and he swings you around, laying you carefully on the couch, “there we go... such a pretty, baby.”

satoru's mind is reeling, unable to believe his eyes. he finally has you underneath him, flushed, embarrassed because of him — all ready for him. his fingers tug at your pants, nicely trimmed nails catching onto the hidden skin, “let's get this off...”

he helps you shimmy off your pants, along with your embarrassingly drenched underwear which he sneakily pockets somewhere you don't know, “i barely touched you there, baby...” he slides a finger up your drenched folds, spreading them apart, “god so wet, tell me who got you this wet?”

and god, he is falling in love with the way you look right now — mouth gaping trying to respond, drooling trickling from the side of your mouth — his precious angel, so so pretty.

“answer me, baby...” he leans closer to your heat, taking a strong whiff of the arousal seeping through. “it's—ahh you, all you fuck.” you whisper as his hot breath fans against your wetness.

yeah he knows it's him — the only one who got you needy like a bitch in heat, “show me how to pleasure you, yeah?” he sits up spreading your thighs wider, situating between them, wrapping your legs around his waist. you nod, holding his hand and guiding it towards the ache between your legs, “right here?”

“need your mhm,” he knows you're struggling, trying to think past the lust ridden haze in your mind, but it's just so fun, seeing you get frustrated. “my what?” his fingers circle around the pulsing nub, feather soft touch testing your limits.

you are quickly surrendering to the faint sparks of pleasure stemming from where his finger rubs you, “y-your hah fingers...please,” satoru hums as he quickly shoves one inside your weeping hole.

both of you moan out as your walls clench around the digit, slowly sucking him in deeper, “m-more please ahh,” he follows, rubbing his ring finger around your opening before it's joining his middle finger.

satoru's mind is running in circles. god, you are barely coherent with just his fingers pumping inside of you. how are you gonna take him? maybe you'll yield, pretty pussy splitting open to accomodate him, always so eager to please him — welcome him. you're gonna make him cum untouched now.

“t-toru just like that baby—oh!” satoru hums encouragingly, keeping up the pace, rubbing against the rough spot deep in your walls, “you’re gonna cum f'me?” he whispers against your lips, before pulling you into a deep and messy kiss.

he knows you're close, tell tale sings of orgasm showing up in your features. your nails graze against his nape, electricity buzzing through his undercut, “please toru—” he shushes you, his free hand holding your head against his chest, “i got you baby.”

satoru watches as you come undone in front of him, spraying all over his abdomen with a loud moan ripping from your throat. he eases you through the orgasm, placing gentle kisses on your watery eyes, a stark contrast to the relentless pace of his fingers working your walls.

he slumps against you, pulling his now absolutely sopping fingers from your gaping hole, “mhm—”

he pushes his fingers in his mouth all the while maintaing eye contact with you, heavenly exilir hydrating his parched mouth, “tastes so good fuck,” he mutters removing them before bending down to capture your lips again, letting you taste yourself.

satoru pulls away, pressing his forehead against yours. his cerulean eyes maps the route of your face, watching you as you struggle to keep your eyes open. he nuzzles his nose against yours, “come now, don't go sleeping on me...”

his weight leans on his knees as he sits up above you, fingers fiddling with his now crumpled shirt, a devious grin adoring his face, “after all, i'm not done with you just yet.”

oh, he can't wait to have you writhing, screaming in pleasure — to have you fully.

what a banger way to kick off the new year, he thinks as he pushes in you, never to leave you ever again.

[osmanthus-wine-addiction]

Fresh Snow and Twinkling Lights

Zhongli x Reader / SFW / Reverse Isekai / Ending is open and up to interpretation / I'm a slowpoke so this is late T_T

You had left the login screen of the game open on the monitor of your computer. A sudden sound downstairs distracted you, forcing you to leave your bedroom to investigate. You never found out what the sound was, but when you returned, you froze in your doorway. The initial shock and confusion eventually wore off. If this was simply a dream, then so be it, you thought. It wasn't everyday that you get to dream about him. "The way the streets are decorated reminds me of Liyue Harbor during Lantern Rite. It's quite a beautiful sight." Zhongli remarks as the two of you take a stroll around the block. "Are you perhaps celebrating something?"

You jumped at the opportunity to tell him about the holiday that has the whole city decked out with multicolored lights, tinsel garlands, and ornamented trees. In the game, it was always Zhongli spewing stories and random trivia about every little thing you passed by. You finally had the chance to introduce him to traditions and history that he had never seen or heard of before. Along the way, you insisted on purchasing a little gem-encrusted brooch for him. He stood still while you fastened it to his lapel for him. Of course, you also filled him in on the tradition of gift-giving on Christmas as well. He listened intently to your every word, etching it carefully into his memories. "This is hot chocolate." You handed him his cup as soon as the street-side vendor had placed it on the counter.

"I can see why you enjoy this in the winter." He remarked after trying the drink. "The sweetness of the chocolate coupled with the frothy whipped cream makes for a comforting sip."

"Mines is eggnog. Do you want a taste?" You offered, holding out your cup to him.

He eyed the straw your lips had been wrapped around just a moment ago. You did not appear to mind, so he took the eggnog from your hand, giving it a try. Unlike the hot chocolate, this drink was chilled, creamy, and rich. There was a hint of alcohol in it as well.

"This one is also quite good." He smiled appreciatively.

"This is the best Christmas gift I could ask for. Thank you Zhongli." You said with a fond smile on your lips as the two of you walked along the lighted path. A Christmas date with your favorite character, even if it was just for a few hours, was enough for you to reminisce over for a good while. You just hoped you wouldn't forget everything that happened as soon as you wake up from this dream.

"You give me unearned credit, dear. Though now that you mention it, I may indeed have something I can gift you." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a flower.

It's delicate golden petals appeared to be sculped from a smooth stone. You immediately recognized it to be the Flower of Creviced Cliff, part of the Archaic Petra artifact set that you had spent weeks farming at the Guyun Stone Forest for. It felt strange, holding something from the game in the palm of your hands.

"I'll cherish it." You assured him.

This gift would disappear like morning dew, but at least you would always remember how it felt in your hands. You would also remember the feel of his hands against yours as the two of you walked side by side under the string light canopy as snowflakes fluttered to the ground around you. Zhongli had taken off one of his gloves and given it to you to wear on the hand he was not holding. All around you were strangers, but he was the only one in your eyes.

"Wait, Zhongli!" You tugged his hand.

He followed your eyes up to the curious bundle of leaves and little red berries overhead. Before he could ask you what it was, you spoke up.

"Can you close your eyes for me?"

He chuckled, taking notice of the nervous flush on your face. "Sure."

You took a step towards him, heart racing as you lifted your heel off the ground. If this was all just an indulgent dream, then surely he wouldn't mind fulfilling this little wish of yours too, right? Your lips pressed against his. As soon as he felt the touch, his eyelids fluttered open. You could hear Zhongli draw in a startled breath, but what happened next exceeded your boldest imagination. His arms circled around your waist and brought you closer. The timid ministrations of your lips against his was emboldened by his reciprocation. He held you gingerly in his arms, like the precious gift you were. Ever since he had met you, he had wondered what kind of soul was behind those starlight eyes. Now that he had truly met you, he would never allow himself to forget this magical night.

"Now will you enlighten me on the reason you've decided to kiss me?" Zhongli asks you, a gentle but obviously amused smile on his lips.

"There's a tradition..." You began explaining. Heat blossomed over your cheeks yet again. "Two people standing under a mistletoe have to kiss."

"So you wouldn't have done so if not for that plant hanging above our heads?" He asked you, although he already knew the answer.

"No! I wouldn't mind kissing you even if it wasn't there." You said all in one breath.

"I see..." He stroked his chin in contemplation. "I suppose I would not mind it either."

"You what?" It was your turn to be speechless. Even if you knew this was all just a dream, it still managed to feel unreal.

"We should head back." He simply said, reaching out to catch a handful of snowflakes. "Liyue does not experience such frigid weather. It's beautiful to behold, fresh snow and twinkling lights. Nevertheless, I would hate for you to catch a cold."

You return to your home. Your eyes drifted over to the clock on the wall. Zhongli sat on your bed, thumbing through a photo album of yours as you took a shower. When you stepped out of the bathroom, changed into a comfortable pair of pajamas, all trace of the man who had been keeping you company all evening had disappeared. Your heart fell, but it was nothing unexpected.

The fans on your computer hummed softly, indicating that it was still on. You had forgotten to shut it down before leaving the house. With a yawn, you woke up the monitor. There was Genshin, looping endlessly through the login screen, a familiar door at the center. You clicked into it.

As soon as the white screen cleared, you could see the familiar backside of Zhongli. It was expected. He was your favorite character so it was natural that you parked the game while he was the active character. You still had one daily to finish before you could log off again. Another yawn escaped you as you finished the simple task, teleporting back to the wayport closest to Katheryne. Just as you were about to exit out of the game, a glint on Zhongli's lapel caught your eye. Your heart skipped a beat. No, it can't be. You had to rub your eyes to make sure you weren't hallucinating.

There, on his lapel, was the pin you had gifted him hours ago. You had fastened it to his lapel with your own hands.

You refused to blink, afraid that the pixels your eyes were seeing would disappear the moment your eyelids closed. Maybe you had too much eggnog earlier. Or you had to still be in a dream somehow. Right, none of this had actually happened. It was time to go to sleep. You would turn on the computer and open the game as soon as you woke up in the morning. Surely everything would just go back to normal.

[sagesskies]

ʟᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ʀᴏᴏᴋᴍɪɴꜱᴛᴇʀ!

The farm is practically buried in snow. Everywhere I look, it's all white. Dad said he's worried about the animals. Richard told me he's more concerned about how we're going to shovel all that snow. We've made bet on how long it'll take. Richard thinks it'll only take two days. He's too confident. I'd say we'll need more than four. Though, I'm screwed if the farmhands are around… I wonder if it's too late to change my wager…

To [Name],

Anyways, how are you? I've heard that you're in law school right now. Good job! I think Richard was planning to do law too— that, or business. I could never tell what exactly the guy wanted to do. He just wanted to have more, and more.

Right now I'm still working at the farm. Though, I'll be honest- I'm kind of sick of the place. I love dad, and Richard is okay. But it's just the town that's the problem. I can never go outside without people staring at me.

You probably think I deserve it. You're right. But don't I also deserve to be able to go outside without having eyes on me at all times?

It's Christmas soon! Dad sent the rest of our family presents. All Richard and I got were new boots— Same thing he got us last year. No problem with a new pair. I just wish dad knew we'd like something else like, I don't know, maybe a new car? I've had my truck since high school, and it's a miracle it hasn't gone kaboom.

I've sent something along with the letter. Though, you probably already knew that. I'm not gonna say what it is (That'd ruin the surprise!!) but you'll definitely thank me when you see what it is. Or at least, feel some degree of appreciation.

Hope you have a happy holiday. Stay safe, and know I'll love you always. No matter how long it's been. Or what we've both done (And yes. Both. Don't pretend like you played no part in what happened.)

Yours,

Gabe

A very merry christmas to all of you! Apologies for my absence. There's really no excuse. I'm still accepting requests, though requests for sequels are up for debate.

On the subject of sequels- Will there be one for Gabe? I know I had the first one labelled as Part 1, and I do plan to provide it a Part 2, and I already have an ending in mind (As hinted in the letter) but I'm still trying to figure out a way to get there.

Again-- Merry Christmas to you all 💚

credits to @cafekitsune for the divider!

[youngpettyqueen]

I know the decision to have Julian's parents have him augmented was made on the fly but imo its pretty obvious from early on that Julian has Family Issues because he avoids talking about his family like the plague and I think they should've incorporated this into the Julian and Sisko dynamic right from early on because I think it would've made for some really compelling stories and moments and could've set up a REALLY interesting Julian and Jake dynamic which they kinda started to do but never fully went for

[savethepinecones]

idk i think the thing that amazes me the most about buck is that hes so full of love that even when hes feeling his insecurities about being too much or whatever he still puts his whole pussy into it

[peniscat]

i know that jesse armstrong is more than capable of knowing when to end a series but the way it was announced that season 4 is going to be the last one kind of made me feel like the whole process behind it is a bit sketchy. they only revealed that s4 is the last one only a month before the premiere, even after posting teaser trailers that never even hinted at the season being the last, and even the cast got the news only during the table read for the final episode. the promotion of season 4 has been disappointing especially when compared to season three. while the actors are not the ones writing the show, most of them have been very clear that they could have seen the show go on for another season and their disappointment over the show ending has been clear as day. while an ambiguous ending will be a very fitting end to succession and i am not against it, i am definitely wondering if the decision to finish with season 4 was something that developed during the filming process instead of it being a clear guideline throughout the creative process of season 4.

[myatlantispoets]

Ik i sound like such a stereotypical straight woman rn but. How do i ask my bf for flowers without asking my bf for flowers

[emmaspolaroid]

i will explode this man with my mind mark my fucking words