#best of minimal wave

[tthelady]

After playing wuthering waves for the past few days, I have to say I do like the game. The story is very intriguing so far. The game looks really beautiful, the characters look amazing too, and even the npcs look good. The jumping, flying, and running graphics are really smooth and cool.

But the game does seem to still have issues with it, and from what I'm reading a lot, these issues were present even in the second beta testing. For me, I found issues with the controls. I would be going in one direction, and suddenly, my character would turn towards another. There's also an issue with being blocked by invisible objects. Then there's the problem with overheating, I'm like 20 mins into the game, and I can feel my phone heating up. I tried to download the game on my iPad, but it wouldn't even go past the opening screen. I heard a lot of people were having the same issue with not being able to enter the game.

Overall, this game is nice, and I can see myself playing it I the future, but I don't think it should have come out yet. It feels too soon. A lot of the issues showing up in the game were also present during beta testing but it seems like they were never addressed or the company simply rushed the devs into releasing the game before they could get the chance to fix them. The game definitely needed a couple more months or maybe even a year before it released.

[skyplayssplatoon3]

Dearest Big Run Allies:

PLEASE STOP SPAMMING "THIS WAY" 15 TIMES A WAVE

ESPECIALLY WHEN YOUR STATS END UP THE WORST

YOU ARE DISTRACTING THE ENTIRE TEAM AND BREAKING OUR FOCUS, USE IT ONCE, MAYBE TWICE, IF IT'S -CRUCIAL- OR YOU WILL BE IGNORED EVENTUALLY

Signed, an incredibly Salty Sailor!

[teaboot]

Wait why were you in israel/palestine? Aren’t you canadian?

I am. A friend of my family was traveling from Egypt to Jerusalem on pilgrimage and someone who had reserved a spot in the group had to drop out, so there was a last-minute seat available and they asked me if I was interested.

Life is short, and it wasn't the sort of trip I'd be able to afford on my own in a million years, so I tagged along as the token agnostic.

And I'm glad I did, because a few months later some of the places we'd visited were leveled flat.

A lot of beautiful, rolling green hillsides are charred dust now, and good, kind people are dead.

Buildings we slept in are gone. Children who waved to us in the street are gone. Small shops and vendors and houses are gone. Old men gathered together to smoke and chat in little rooms by the streetside are gone.

Passing from Israel into Palestine was a visible, abrupt switch from a modern city not unlike Vancouver to a slum. Like some of the reservations I've been to here up north that go to shit sometimes, where the Chief and his family all have brand new BMW's and nobody else has had their plumbing fixed.

Buildings were repaired with minimal supplies, trash was gathered in the streets, and the roads were bare dirt for long stretches at a time. You could tell that this wasn't a place being treated kindly, but people were doing their best. Everyone we met treated us well. Everyone we met was kind, and welcoming, and generous.

One man I spoke with said he was hoping to come to Canada someday. Take his family and live here. He asked how cold it got.

I told him that their winter was like our summer. He didn't like that- said he didn't like being cold.

I told him to wait for summer, then, and he could visit with me. Told him everywhere he'd have to see when he arrived, all the best landmarks and museums.

The first bombs dropped before winter.

I don't know if he waited.

[itostea]

the strongest (gojo x wife! reader)

gojo can't help but feel annoyed that he feels concern for the wife he swears he doesn't care for.

warnings: arranged marriage au, gojo refers to you as his wife, enemies to lovers (?), gojo tells you to lift up your top, slight angst, he's really bad at feelings okay, image from loving yamada-kun at lv999 (part of gojo’s wife series)

The lines of intrigue and fear are often blurred. It explains why we admire fire from afar, careful not to get too close in hopes of not getting burned. It explains why we find peace in parts of the ocean and tense up in deeper parts. It also explains why Gojo Satoru seeks your presence yet pushes you away the moment he finds himself feeling something other than indifference or vexation–it’s never hatred though. The strongest can’t envision himself ever hating his wife and it scares him. 

He’s not sure that can be said about you. Gojo wouldn’t be surprised if you grew to hate him after the treatment you put up with. 

Your marriage is what you call a “marriage of convenience” and Gojo made sure you remembered that. He wasn’t always so distant with you. Back then, you might’ve considered him a friend but time did its bidding and you two drifted apart, your time together merely a memory. Now fast forward a few years and you were wedded to him, taking up his surname and sleeping in the same house as him–in separate rooms of course. 

Your steps on the wooden floors were silent as you intended not to make a single noise at such a late hour. You sighed, feeling the weight of your heavy shoulders drag you down. 

Gojo might be considered cruel to you but the elders were on a different level. They knew this mission would be too much for you yet they sent you on it as punishment for speaking your mind the last time everyone gathered. 

At that time, your husband had an unfamiliar gleam in your eyes as you voiced your thoughts on the matter of Itadori. He’s a nice kid, you thought when you first saw the pink-haired boy. 

Taking away his youth wouldn’t be fair. After all, he didn’t choose to have the Ryomen Sukuna use him as a vessel. Yet, sentiment doesn’t do well with the higher ups and they made sure you knew your place with the mission they sent you on. 

You inhaled sharply, wincing as you felt the bruise on your rib with your palm. There was blood soaking your tights, little cuts littering your legs. You’re so tired you can’t find it in yourself to even eat. Then again, you needed to be in your best condition tomorrow since another mission was sent out of you and specifically you. Those in power always make sure it’s clear that they are in power. Your voice of opinion meant nothing to their beliefs in tradition or what you liked to call, “backward thinking.” That’s one thing you and your husband could agree on. 

“Ow,” you wince for the nth time as you open the fridge, scanning the items. Mochi. Ice-cream. Leftover cake. Perhaps it would’ve been wiser to go grocery shopping a day prior so you could have a proper meal. This was the kind of stuff Gojo could live on but you couldn’t. Closing the fridge, you opt for instant ramen instead. Not the best choice in regards to healthiness but cracking an egg in there meant more protein and it also minimized the spice levels. 

You’re halfway in between preparing the noodles when you feel a presence right beside you and soft breathing besides your ears. “You’re home,” your ‘husband’ mumbles, his eyes half-lidded from just having woken up. 

“God! Satoru!” You gasp, flinching away from and only realizing how close he was. For someone who claimed he wasn’t interested in you, he didn’t know what personal space was. “How did you know I was home?”

“Your cursed energy leaked in,” he shrugs his shoulders, peering down at you without the constraints of his blindfold or shades. You gulp as his eyes flit up and down your appearance, causing your insides to tense up in a sudden wave of self-consciousness. Being scrutinized by the six-eyes himself wasn’t much fun and you’re suddenly aware of the fact that your hair is disheveled and your face is sweaty from just having come home from a grueling mission. 

You don’t even notice the glint of rage that crosses his hues before he masks it. “Who did this to you?”

“Huh?” You blink, coming to your senses that your body was bloodied up and battered from having fought a curse. “Oh it was just a mission. It’s normal to be hurt on missions.” 

Gojo’s been living with you for nearly half a year now and he knows you’re more than competent when it comes to shaman duties (not that he’d ever tell you). He knows you return home by 7 p.m.., and never at hours well past midnight. He knows that you usually only get injuries on your back because you get careless at times. But now, he sees cuts everywhere and he’s not sure if you’re running on adrenaline or if you’re too tired to notice. 

His eyes glance at the way you press a palm on your rib, subconsciously squeezing the area as if hiding it from him. “Let me see.”

Your surprise is immediate and he would’ve felt a strange fluttering in his stomach if not for this concern he was experiencing for you. You smile. “See what?”

“Your injury. Let me see it,” he says again, pressing on the hand you hold close to your ribs, narrowing his eyes as you hiss in pain. “Don’t be stubborn (Name).” 

His voice is different from the cheery one he often uses and you’re left leaning further into the kitchen counter, acutely aware of the fact that his taller frame wasn’t allowing you to escape. His eyes widen the slightest once he gets a glimpse of your flustered expression as you peer up at him and he only realizes what he was asking from you. Part of him tells him to ignore this and pretend his concern for you was brief. Yet, part of him screams at him that he was your husband, so he should feel the right to be worried–even if he was months late. 

He sighs, tilting his head. “I’m just going to look. I promise I won’t do anything else,” his voice is oddly tender as he speaks to you, a contrast to the usual nonchalance you’re used to. 

You gulp and let out a shaky sigh, giving in when your fingers reach to pull your top up for him to see the bare skin that you can’t even say is spotless or void of marks. Multiple wounds litter your skin–some faded, some new. You’re scared his gaze would show some signs of judgment or disgust but you’re left bemused when you see how his eyebrows furrow and his lips purse. For a second, you allow yourself to be deluded by the fact that he might be worried but you quickly abandon that thought, averting your eyes from him.

You can see how he pieces everything together. From the way you rebelled against the elders and how they saw it as a means to punish you. He does it so quickly that you can only blink when his blank expression morphs into something different. You almost feel relieved from the fact that his expression of pure anger wasn’t directed at you and rather those who sent you on the mission.

It’s almost natural how he slides the top further up, mapping the extent of the bruise with his eyes. His hands are warm and calloused. They’re also gentle, tracing the bruise carefully to not hurt you. “I’ll kill those old bastards,” he chuckles with a sneer. “They have some nerve letting my wife take this mission without me.”

You frown as you see his anger first-hand. “Satoru–”

“Why didn’t you go to Shoko?” He interrupts, gently holding on your waist to prop you on the counter while he stands in between your legs. He watches you intently, in search of answers.

You feel somewhat embarrassed as his hand still lifts your top up to see the bare skin but don’t comment on it. “I didn’t want to bother her so late at night…”

For the first time since today, you see him flash a genuine smile, as if exasperated by your reasoning. “But you’re fine with bothering me?” 

“That’s different!” You say, a pout slowly forming on your lips and he can’t help but feel drawn to you even if he doesn’t want to. 

He laughs as you pull your top down with a huff, finding it cute that you were so bashful. “Because I’m your husband?” 

You go silent and for a second, Gojo thinks he’s messed up for mentioning that. Despite being your husband, he’s not the greatest at doing his job. He’s not callous or spiteful towards you, instead taking on more of a cold and aloof attitude towards you. Even so, he thinks that hurts just as much as a few insults. 

He’s about to pull back but your voice draws him back to you. “Yeah. It’s because you’re my husband.”

Gojo can’t stop himself from glancing at your lips at that single statement. He was today years old when he realized he was a man of simple tastes. All you had to do was tell him that he was your husband and he’d want to kiss you until your lips turned red. He considers himself lucky that you didn’t see that slip-up of his–though he wouldn’t have minded if you did.

He breathes out a sigh, propping his chin atop your head while his fingers draw circles around your hips. “I won’t let them hurt you.”

It’s a vow he swears to keep. 

“I know,” you whisper quietly enough for him to hear. “You’re the strongest after all.”

He thinks it’s funny that even as the strongest, he feels weak when he feels your fingers play with his sleeves. No words are said after that and a comfortable silence drifts between you two. It’s like the barrier between the two of you is cracking once you feel his lips press gently against your forehead and you think it's his way of sealing the promise. 

Gojo Satoru thinks–or rather he knows that he wouldn’t mind living the rest of his life with you. And he knows that he should fix his behavior around you and stop running away. That way, instead of a kiss to the forehead, he can finally give you one on your lips. 

[illyrianbitch]

Accidental

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: Azriel accidentally likes an old photo while stalking your profile. A spiral into mortification follows.

Warnings: modern! prythian aka everything is the same except social media exists. az sucks at social media and is a loverboy and mortified stalker. sassy shadows and matchmaking. basically fluff and crushes

Word Count: 1.8k

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

Azriel barely used Instagram. 

His account was a placeholder at best—a profile photo of him, Rhys, and Cassian from some formal court trip, no posts, and a follower count so small it seemed like he was actively trying to be cool. Hundreds of follow requests sat ignored, mostly Mor’s friends or Cassian’s buddies.  

Azriel had only downloaded the app for Rhysand. It had been part of the public rebranding of their ruling, a way for the Night Court citizens to feel closer to the individuals they relied on for the proper functioning of their court. Rhys had insisted that having a social media presence—however minimal, as he’d said with that plastered grin of his—was good for their image. Cassian and Mor had jumped in with no hesitation. Azriel, on the other hand, had never felt a more intense, animalistic rage than when Cassian managed to flood his phone with ridiculous memes and videos that only elderly fae could find funny.

Well, elderly fae and Cassian, it seemed.

So Azriel had gone along with it, sitting next to Mor as she set up his lackluster account. He hadn’t bothered to edit it since. In truth, he only opened the app when he was completely, mind-numbingly bored. Or, like tonight, when the house was too quiet, and he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

The search bar remembered your name. One tap, and there it was—your profile, a perfectly curated grid of moments that always seemed so effortlessly you. 

Azriel made sure he was on his second account. While he never intended to use the app for anything other than the occasional check-in, he liked knowing he had the option to interact with his family if he ever chose to. To ensure that safety net, for whenever it might be needed, Azriel had created a second, more private account. No identifiable name, no picture. His only followers were his family, their close friends, and you.

His shadows shifted lazily around him, one curling near his ear, ready to whisper. Others lingered by his shoulders. He could feel their silent critique, like they were collectively arching a brow.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he muttered, brushing one of them away with a flick of his fingers. It didn’t retreat far, still coiled in the corner of his vision like it was waiting for him to come to his senses.

He ignored them and clicked on your profile.

The first photo caught his attention immediately. You, smiling at the camera, holding a drink with two cherries hanging off the glass. He wondered what it was, what you preferred your liquor to be mixed with. Mor was in the background, her arm slung around your shoulder, laughing at something out of frame. He bit back a snicker at Mor’s comments under the photo, at the way she jokingly groveled and thirsted for you like a stereotypical, horny, young fae. 

Darker thoughts crept in. The idea that there might be others—men, strangers—leaving similar comments, but in all seriousness, made his stomach churn. A wave of unease rolled over him. He scowled and willed himself to scroll past, deliberately avoiding the remaining 20 comments.

He scrolled. Another photo—this one from a trip to the Summer Court, your legs stretched out on the sand, a book propped against your knees. The sunlight hit your skin just right, your sunglasses reflecting the waves.  

And then he kept scrolling. He couldn’t stop. Posts from weeks ago turned into months, then years. He stopped on one from a themed birthday party, your costume half-hidden by a cluster of friends. The blurry quality didn’t matter—his gaze zeroed in on you, on the way your smile lit up the frame.  He leaned closer to the screen to get a better look.

But he wasn’t the only one curious for a detailed glance, it seemed. His shadows around him moved suddenly, as erratic and fast as they could be, and the motion startled him— pushed his arm just enough. Almost instantaneously, Azriel’s thumb brushed against the screen.

No, no, no, he thought. He tried to pull back, but it was too late.

The red heart bloomed on the screen.

“No,” Azriel muttered, out loud this time. He sat up so fast his phone almost slipped from his hands. “No,” he repeated in horror, as his wings curled tight against his back, the sharp movement almost painful.

The heart lingered there, mocking him. A post from three years ago, a photo you probably hadn’t even remembered. And now your notifications would light up with his name. He’d be exposed in all of his stalker glory. 

He jammed his thumb into the screen, unliking the post, but it didn’t matter. The damage was done. He couldn’t undo it. The guilt, the horror—he hadn’t felt this mortified in centuries. His shadows hovered near him, drifting around his head like little mischievous wraiths. Watching him. Waiting for the fallout.

Azriel cursed under his breath. “You made me do this.”

They flicked in response—teasing. An amused dance. Keep. Wait.

A strangled noise left him. He tossed his phone onto the bed next to him, face down, trying to escape the embarrassment of what he’d just done. His shadows were quick, though, swarming toward the phone. Tendrils grasped it and brought it back to his chest, setting it down with a soft thud.

“Really?” he hissed at them.

The shadows responded with an amused flicker, their tendrils writhing in a way that felt like they were laughing. They were laughing. Azriel knew this. They were loving this, basking in his mortification.

Maybe they’d been too bored recently, he thought bitterly. After all, they were used to the adrenaline of constant threats, the thrill of danger lurking at every corner. To be honest, so was he. It had been a learning curve for all of them to adjust to… peace. But he would’ve never expected them to stoop so low—to find this, his embarrassment, so entertaining.

They used to protect him. Used to care for him. Traitors. Mischievous, conniving traitors.

They’d painted him as a stalker without even realizing it, and worse, they seemed proud of it.

Azriel groaned, dragging a hand over his face. 

Social media sucked.

Azriel groaned in frustration and leaned back against the wall behind his bed. His wings were still tight against his back, every muscle tense. If he ignored it, maybe it would just never come up again—maybe the world would stop spinning long enough for this nightmare to pass. Why was he so embarrassed, anyway? 

Master with slippery fingers. Funny. Spy now seen. Funny.

Then, his phone buzzed.

Azriel froze. His blood ran cold, and he picked it up slowly, like it was a trap. He glanced at the notification, and his stomach flipped.

Your name. In a godsdamned text. 

He almost dropped the phone again.

Did you just like a photo from three years ago? 👀

His eyes darted to the next message.

Deep dive, huh?

A long beat of silence stretched. His shadows circled around him, pressing close like nosy little imps, smirking in their own way. Azriel couldn’t decide whether to laugh or die from embarrassment.

Sorry, accident.

He grimaced the second he watched the message send. Shadows pressed in closer. More. More. He ran his tongue along his teeth before letting out another sigh. Nothing to lose at this point. 

I was feeling nostalgic.

Azriel hit send before he could stop himself. 

And then immediately regretted it. He flopped back on his bed with an aggravated groan. This. Was. A. Disaster. And he’d just made it worse. He had yet to understand why his common sense tended to disappear when it came to you. It was humbling, to say the least. 

His family wouldn’t let this go. Not in a million years. He could already hear Cassian’s booming laugh, the bastard cringing with mock horror despite being the least shameful person Azriel knew. Cass had done the same thing once—accidentally liking someone’s post—and he’d turned redder than Rhys’s favorite wine.

Then there were the times Mor had complained about people lurking on her profile, her nose wrinkling as she muttered about how gross it was. If she found out about this? She’d never let him hear the end of it.

And you. He didn’t even want to imagine how you’d respond if you found out. Would you laugh it off? Would you be creeped out, knowing he hadn’t managed to hold a proper conversation with you, but here he was… lurking? He was never beating the strange, stalker allegations now.

Shrouded in shadow, Night Court’s spymaster secretly loves creeping on his family’s friends on social media. Oh yes, that’d be wonderful for their polished image.

He shook his head, hating how the mortifying narrative practically wrote itself. Of course, he was overreacting—he knew that much. Liking a post wasn’t some cardinal sin. But it didn’t help his embarrassment.

And it definitely didn’t help that his shadows were snickering in his ears.

Another buzz. He grabbed his phone with impressive speed.

Nostalgic? For a party you weren’t even at? Interesting.

In a matter of seconds, Azriel typed out a dozen responses—short, curt, defensive—before erasing them all. Shadows around him fluttered, restless with amusement. Even they understood just how thoroughly he’d boxed himself in. They whispered ideas he promptly ignored. He was already in enough trouble. Finally, he settled on something somewhat believable:

Mor told me about your great costume from a few years back. I wanted to appreciate it.

His thumb hovered over the send button before he hit it, the message firing off into the void. Three dots appeared almost instantly. Then disappeared. Then reappeared.

He swore under his breath.

The reply came a moment later: Sure. If it’s my costume you’re appreciating, just say that.

Azriel blinked. He stared at the screen, torn between mortification and something sharper—something dangerously close to hope.

Before he could stop himself, he typed: Maybe I was.

And then he tossed the phone onto the bed once more. The shadows followed the device, swarming it as it buzzed again almost immediately.

He hesitated. A long moment passed before he finally picked it up.

Well, for the record, I appreciated your deep dive. Very endearing.

His heart stuttered. Endearing. You thought it was endearing. He could work with this. 

For once, he didn’t overthink it.

For the record,  he replied, I appreciated the costume.

When he set the phone down this time, he couldn’t help the small, reluctant smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. A swarm of black swirled around him. Their presence was almost smug now, wrapping him in their knowing energy. 

“Not a word,” Azriel muttered, narrowing his eyes at the nearest wisp as it curled around his wrist.

To his surprise, they listened. They settled, their tendrils spreading out and draping across him like a heavy blanket. Relaxed. Content. Slow, despite the erratic pattering of his heart beneath them.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

if you saw any typos…no you didn’t. @writingcroissant dictatori was pressuring me to post 😔. thank you for reading 🫶🏻🫶🏻

im sorry but the idea of az, who is so good at hiding everything, freaking the FUCK out bc he doesnt understand social media cracks me uppppp

canon-typical prythian but with social media has been on my mind so much. you may see some more of this world im ngl

permanent tag list 🫶🏻: 

@rhysandorian @itsswritten @milswrites @lilah-asteria @georgiadixon 

@glam-targaryen @cheneyq @darkbloodsly @pit-and-the-pen @azrielsbbg

@evergreenlark @marina468 @azriels-human @book-obsessed124 @bubybubsters 

@starswholistenanddreamsanswered @feyretopia  @ninthcircleofprythian @velariscalling @azrielrot

@justyouraveragekleemain @marigold-morelli @mrsjna @anarchiii @alittlelostalittlefound

@melissat1254

@secretsicanthideanymore

@m4tthewmurd0ck @beardburnsupersoldiers @isnotwhatyourethinking @tothestarsandwhateverend @raginghellfire

@angel-graces-world-of-chaos @acoazlove @paradisebabey @inkedinshadows

azriel tag list 🫶🏻:@thisiskaylin @serrendiipty @acourtofsteelandthunder  @mortqlprojections @ushijima-stits @honethatty12

[mayanneaa]

hits different - ᴊᴊ ᴍᴀʏʙᴀɴᴋ.

PAIRING : jj maybank x ex!reader

SUMMARY : jj broke up with you two months ago, but this one party makes him truly realize what he’s done.

WARNING(S) : swearing, jealous and super drunk jj, a little angst, fluff, minimal use of y/n (like once), might have some grammar errors, english is not my first language

A/N : first fic on here heheh obv inspired by 'hits different' by taylor swift. i recommend listening to it while reading :) dividers by @roseraris !! not proofread dont kill me

WC : 1.7k

masterlist.

After a fourth beer, the party got too loud and the lights too bright. Normally, in a moment like this, he would run to you, wrap his arms around you, and inhale your sweet, calming scent. Just as he’s about to do it, the realization hits him like one of the waves nearby.

You aren’t together anymore.

He sharply inhales and looks around. His vision is softly spinning, but it’s no problem for him. JJ spots you in a second. With another boy.

You two are just talking. You don’t even know this guy, he came up to you to ask about something so random it got lost in your chat long ago. You give him one of those kind smiles, and JJ feels his fists clench. “Fuck.”

The music changes. As if he wasn’t already miserable, the speakers let out the first notes of your song. The one he first kissed you to. The one you two always played, alone at the chateau dancing on the back porch.

The memories flood his mind, and he can’t take it anymore. Jj feels his heartbeat loud in his ears, and he wants to leave. To go to any of the pogues, or, even better, drive away in the Twinkie. But his eyes cannot move from your face, and his legs just don’t work.

It baffles him. Not once in his life, he couldn’t move on. But this time, with you, it's different. It hits different.

You finally catch him. The guy is still talking to you, but your attention is on the other side of the beach. Before you can interrupt, you see John B. coming up to JJ. He tells him something, grabs his arm, and leads his best friend somewhere. You feel your heart sink. “Are you okay?” you hear the guy ask, making you turn your head.

“I’m so sorry, I have to go,” you quickly say, leaving him alone. You have to find JJ.

“Dude, stop this shit right now,” John B.’s holding the steering wheel, making his way to the Chateau. JJ's taken the passenger seat, shoulders slumped, and he runs his hand through the blonde strands.

"Yeah, easy for you to talk." he snarls, "You and Sarah are all happy together, you don't know how it's like-"

"I don't know because I don't just randomly break up with my girl over a bad day I had." John B. cuts him off and lets out a deep sigh. "JJ, you should talk to her. Everyone's done. You are constantly miserable."

JJ doesn't say anything. The words hit him like a slap, unnecessarily hurtful. Outside the window he sees the familiar place - they are at the Chateau.

"Get some rest, okay?" John B opens the door and helps JJ get in the house. "Call me in case something happens."

The blonde nods his head and plops on the couch, legs stretched out. Minutes pass, and he finds himself whispering your name, over and over again, as if he's scared he'll forget it.

His mind still replays that cold May night.

You two agreed to meet at the dock. The wind softly overflowed your face as you were waiting for him. When he finally came, you felt something was wrong. His usual smile was gone, and he didn't even look at you. You hugged yourself in your hoodie, "JJ? Is everything alright?"

He let out a shaky breath, leaning over the railings. "I think we should break up."

You blinked in surprise, your heart feeling heavy. "What?"

Your voice sounded smaller than you intended. You reached out for his hand, your own shaking.

"It will be better for both of us." JJ dismissively said, swallowing hard. A shiver ran down his body, and his throat tightened, but he brushed it off.

You felt so much hitting you. Tears burned under your eyelids, and anger started to bubble up. Did you do something? Or maybe he just decided you weren't good enough for him anymore?

"No," you whispered at first, but your voice was growing louder, "You don't get to just... just decide on my behalf!"

The moonlight fell on his face, and you tried to find any answers in his eyes. He stiffened, shaking his head before he repeated, "It will be better if we end it now."

You opened your mouth, but not a word came out. The tears threatening to fall finally flooded your face, a quiet scoff escaping your lips. "I can't believe this. This is how much it meant for you?"

You were met with silence. The atmosphere on the dock could be cut with a knife, and you couldn't just stand here. Before you registered it, your legs led you down, far from your boy- well... ex-boyfriend. JJ's eyes followed your every step. He wanted to run after you, to wrap you in his arms and never let you go. But he didn't.

It wasn't just a one-day whim he had. It stuck with him ever since you two decided to make it official. It grew with every late night you spent not on something you like, but on cleaning him up after another fight. You didn’t say anything—but he knew. He knew that sooner or later, it will be too much. He will be too much to handle.

The sweetest girl walking on the earth, a literal angel and him. A failure, a Pogue whose fate it was to end up just like his father—always drunk, always angry.

His heart ached at this thought. You had so many opportunities, and if you decided to let it go because of him, he would never forgive himself.

Breaking up before he got even more attached was for the better. It had to be. Right?

JJ doesn’t know how long he’s been lying like this. His breathing is now steady and slow, and he has to remind himself to breath in again.

He closes his eyes, but can’t escape you. The memories come fast—not giving him much time for defense.

Your face. Always in the sun, glowing as if you were a goddess. The lips glossed from the cherries you’ve been eating. Your eyes, the creases forming in the corners almost constantly from smiling.

Your touch. All these quick brushes, the way you traced your soft fingertips over his forearm every time you sat nearby. The long, tight hugs during which JJ’s hands wrapped your waist, him hungrily inhaling your perfume.

His breath hitches. Is it truly the best this way?

Before he can answer, the quiet crack of a key opens the door. He darts up and immediately regrets it, as the whole room starts spinning.

“JJ?” he hears a soft whisper, and his heart skips a beat.

The warm lights of the Chateau reveal your face. He feels the heat rising to his cheeks, “What are you doing here?”

His voice is quiet, almost as if he’s scared you’ll disappear. You step closer, with a cautiousness that kills something inside him. He avoids your gaze, staring at the suddenly interesting floor.

“You’re not doing great, huh?” you say, but there’s no mockery or anger in your voice. There’s just… worry.

JJ turns around on his heels and sits down on couch, fearing that if he stands for a minute longer, he might just fall. He runs a hand through his hair, a habit that intensified over the two months.

“Stop it, Y/N.” he finally replies looking at you for the first time. The light reflects of his watery eyes, and his voice breaks when he continues, “Go back to the party and your new stupid little boyfriend.”

Your eyes widen. “Are you fussing over me talking to a guy after you broke up with me?”

JJ shakes his head, looking at the floor again, “Doesn’t matter. Not anymore, I guess. You really should go—”

“Why did you end this?”

The question feels like an arrow through his heart. You’re standing with your hands crossed, not planning on going anywhere. “Why, J? We were happy. Did I do something…?”

“It wasn’t you.” In the response, he hears a snort.

Your gaze is heavy, with your eyebrows arched up. “Classic. Then what was it, JJ?” The tone of your voice is pushing, and you don’t even try to control it, “What happened that you decided to just leave me?”

“I was scared!” he snaps before he can think of anything better to say. “How do you imagine it? You… you can’t suffer with me forever. It’ll break you one day and—”

“JJ.”

The way you say his name pulls him out of the spiral. It slips off your tongue smoothly, just like it used to. You grip his arm, and JJ forgets what he was even talking about.

“You don’t get to make this decision without talking to me. Did you ever asked me how I feel about this?”

A blush creeps up on his cheeks, and whether you want it or not, the corners of your lips rise.

He tries to make any sense, the tears dangerously close to falling. “I mean— You deserve someone better. Someone who will keep you safe and… I’m not that person. And I don’t think I’ll ever be.”

You sigh. “Maybe. But I don’t want anyone better, baby. I want you. That’s my decision.”

With these words, with what you called him, his walls crash. You pull him closer, your bodies touching and he can’t take it anymore. JJ lets out a muffled sob into the crook of your neck, gripping you like he’s never letting you go.

Your fingers find their way up to his hair, running through the golden strands as he’s shaking.

“I’m sorry.” he whispers, his voice barely audible. “I’m so sorry. So sorry—”

“Shhh,” You draw small circles on his back, and his breath slows down after some time. “We will talk about it tomorrow, ’kay? You’re super drunk right now.”

“Promise you won’t leave.” JJ sniffles, the tip of his nose pink. You giggle, but he pulls away to look at you, a serious expression on his face. “I’m not joking! Promise me you’ll still be here in the morning. Please.”

You gently squeeze his shaking hand and can’t help but smile. “I promise.”

[nap-thym3]

Sebastian Solace(Pressure) x Reader/Self-Insert 🌊

Part-One /Fluff/1,886 Words

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Synopsis: In which when I first played pressure I just stood and stared at Sebastian’s character model for a solid five minutes. So this was born. yayayaya

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Army crawling on your knees and elbows, your chest rattles with your wheezing breaths. Truth was, you’d never been an active person. The most legwork you’d gotten in a day was typically at work, and even then, that was minimal. Suffice to say, being thrust into this shitshow of a scenario where running from constant threats was the norm, the situation couldn’t be anymore dire.

You wave a hand about in front of yourself, fanning away the disrupted layers of dust that fluttered in the cramped ventilation shaft as your rasping coughs bounce off the walls and create a cacophony of god-awful racket. You mutter a slew of curses to yourself, clapping your palm over your nose and mouth in a pitiful attempt to stifle your coughing fit. It would be just your luck for a nearby eldritch-horror to overhear your pathetic, asthmatic-self in the vents and drag you out by the ankles. The thought alone brings an electrifying jolt of anxiety through your person, and if you had the space you’d be looking over your shoulder in paranoia. Alas, the best you could do was put your jittering nerves to use and crawl just that little bit faster. Honestly, it was an accomplishment in of itself that you managed to shimmy-shammy your adult self into such a claustrophobic passage in the first place. If you hadn’t known any better, you would’ve just marched straight past the most convenient and inviting looking vent in the world. Probably assuming it to be a blatant trap. Except, you did know better. Just a few feet ahead lay maybe the only place in the entire bowels of this hellscape where you felt you were well and truly safe.

Crawling out of the shaft like an NYC subway rat, you’re finally free to hack up your lungs in peace without fear of death by angler. At least, no death from this one in particular. Blindly you lean back to sit on your haunches, eyes straining to pick up any movement in the darkness.

“Oh. It’s you.” Your shoulder’s jump as a voice drawls from the far-side of the room. Soon after, a gentle glow begins to illuminate the occupied space.

Now with your gracious host offering you visibility, you blink your adjusting vision over to watch as Sebastian seemingly just wraps up whatever file he’d been perusing in the dark. Before you can even attempt to try and sneak a peek at whatever he’d been reading, said folder closes shut with a swift snap. The merchant then carefully tucks the item away into his inner-coat’s pocket. A shame, your snooping has been so swiftly shut down before it ever had a chance to begin- you pout at the missed opportunity. Sebastian catches your longing gaze fixated on his coat, and gives a condescending little pat to the area where you know the concealed document is to be hiding. Wordlessly daring you to even try. Cheeky fish.

“Not even a ‘Hello’ or ‘How are you’? I could’ve been dying in there!” You bemoan in a familiar way of greeting, gesticulating between yourselves wildly as you saunter forward. Sebastian, unphased by your usual eccentricities, drags an unimpressed eye over your much smaller form. Analyzing. Probably looking at your absolutely filthy diving suit- sweat-drenched and caked in dust, grime, and maybe even a little bit of blood as it was. At least you assumed so, if the distaste visibly evident in his features was anything to go by.

“I was hoping whoever it was would die a little more quickly.” Was his dry response, before turning his head in indifference; seeming to have found whatever it was he was looking for on your person.

You scoff, “I see chivalry really is dead.” You gripe without any real bite in your voice. Already beginning to survey the merchant’s wares. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch him as he begins to preen over his nails, pretending to be checking for dirt. Or blood, you didn’t know the guy well enough to say for certain what he did in his free-time. Your attention travels upwards, from his large hands up to his round face. The light emanating from his angler’s bulb casts an almost ethereal glow to his features. Especially with the way his eyes gleam that cerulean blue that’s quickly becoming a favorite color of yours. In addition to these qualities, there’s a very light sprinkling of bioluminescent freckles smattered across his cheeks. Sort of reminiscent to that of stars. Idly your fingers twitch, the sudden urge to reach up and map them like constellations startlingly strong. All these qualities make Sebastian feel so surreal, so out of this world. In juxtaposition to all of that, you’re confident to say that if he had the means, he’d be snobbishly turning his nose up at you right about now. The mental image brings a small, secretive smile to your face.

Sebastian rolls his eyes- or at least, you get the impression that he does. His lack of distinctive pupils makes it hard to tell.

“Are you going to actually buy something today?” He snips, cocking out a hip. “Or are you just going to keep gawking at me?” The merchant sneers through grit teeth(or maybe that was just his face?).

Snapping out of your reverie, caught with your hand in the proverbial cookie-jar, blood rushes to your head as you grin sheepishly up at his accusatory glare.

“Sorry, you’re just…” you wave a hand up beside yourself, willing the right words to come to you. Sebastian, amused by your silent floundering, quirks a knowing eyebrow at you. As if saying ‘Go on?’ The soundless goading sends you into a mental spiral- what did that mean? What did he think you were going to say? God- you don’t want to accidentally offend him, but you also don’t want to sound like a complete idiot. You gulp, mouth opening and closing a few times as you attempt to formulate words that will appease him.

Seemingly tired of you embarrassing yourself, Sebastian moved to speak, assumedly in an act of mercy from this sad display. Quickly, you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind, before he could beat you to the punch.

“You’re just really pretty.” Mortified, you clap your hands over your mouth. Yup. Those are. Definitely words that you just said. To his face.

Muscles tensing, you brace for his reaction. You’re not sure what you’re expecting, disgust, maybe? Mocking laughter, most probably. Any and all situations your brain can conjure up are absolutely humiliating in equal measure. However, as one moment drags into two, and the silence has still yet to be breached, you cautiously look Sebastian’s way. The sight that greets you is a rare one. The infamous Z-13, Sebastian Solace, is left speechless.

The Merchant’s smug expression falters, a look of genuine astonishment crossing his face. The dim light cast by his lure does little to mask the way his stature curls inwards slightly. A slight too much, in your opinion. You can see the muscles in his jaw clenching and unclenching- as though internally wrestling with a response. Just as you had been a moment prior. The knowledge that he was just as at a loss for words as you were eases the tension in your shoulders, if only by a hair. Miser so does love its company, after-all. There’s a brief pause, heavy and awkward, until he finally speaks, his voice softer than usual.

“Pretty?” he echoes, almost disbelievingly. He then swallows, visibly thrown off-kilter.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been called… At-At least- that is to say, not in a good long while.” The second half of his sentence is murmured, as if mostly said to himself. But you had overheard, and he looks as if to have noticed the way your brows pinch in a confusing whirlpool of emotions. Mostly sympathy, pity, among other emotions neither of you were too entirely ready to put out on the table. God forbid you two express emotional maturity and speak plainly like adults. Sebastian flexes his long tail, the serpentine appendage looking as if it were going to either pull or push you away. However, before it can make any progress in either endeavor, Sebastian, -noticeably uncomfortable- clears his throat.

“Silly little thing.” He croons, swooping down from his towering height to give you a patronizing pinch to the cheek with his clawed index and thumb. “You should be mindful of your tongue, hmmm?” As he speaks, his usual edge returns to his voice. Your head helplessly tilts side-to-side with the motion of his ‘affection’. Affronted, and a little whip-lashed with his quick recovery, you swat the offending hand away from your face.

“Jerk! I was trying to be nice!” Despite the biting words, you can’t help but feel relieved to be set back on familiar ground. Whatever emotional vulnerability present in the moment prior was slowly ebbing away, returning to your regularly scheduled squabbling. Sebastian chuckles, bodily retreating to his previous stature and re-clasping his hands before himself with an echoing ‘clap’. You rub at your reddened cheeks, whether their heat was due to Sebastian’s rough treatment or from an entirely other emotion, was only for you to know.

Sebastian continues on distractedly, seeming to have already recollected his composure. “Flattery will get you nowhere here, you know. But… thanks.” You think you see his eyes dart away for a brief moment, before locking onto yours again. A curl of his typical smirk splaying across his lips.

You gasp dramatically, a goofy smile erupting on your face. “The mighty Sebastian? Saying thanks?” You tease.

Sebastian waves a hand about in the air dismissively. “Yeah yeah, just don’t let it get to your head.” He says, crossing his arms defensively. He steamrolls on before you get anymore wise ideas to- eugh, compliment him. “Now hurry up and buy something already!” He snaps, motioning to the various goodies strapped to his person. Not having to be told thrice now, you hurry and make your selections. Eager to move on from everything and anything to do with word ‘cute’. Nothing major, just a few batteries for the road and a mobile hacker or two. Sebastian seems to approve of your choices, and if the price he demands of you seems a little cheaper than the usual- well. You certainly weren’t going to complain.

Getting everything tucked neatly away and ready to go, you begin to trek back towards the vent before being stopped once more by Sebastian.

“Oh! And Traveller?” He calls. With an answering hum, you look back to maybe your only friend down here. The merchant in question seems to look like he’s turning something over in his head, before continuing with a withering sigh.

“Try not to get yourself killed out there, alright? I’d hate to lose such a profitable costumer.” He sing-songs grimly. Despite the harsh words, you can’t help but notice a slight undertone of warm endearment. Feeling like a certified Sebastian-whisperer, you pride swells in your chest at being able to read between the lines. With a barely concealed snicker at his thinly-veiled concern, you toss a final farewell his way before retreating. All throughout the next dozen or so rooms, you journey forward with a skip in your step. Feeling invigorated with newfound determination knowing that a certain merchant was counting on your safe return.

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eeeughh I’m so rusty with writing. Like. It’s not even funny how long this took me for just a one-shot? Idk I might continue this, I just suck so bad at staying motivated for fanfics. Anywho, hope any fellow Sebastian enjoyers out there liked this, there’s not enough content out there of him👍 please make more content guys pls I’m starved for the fics puh-LEASEE

[irndad]

here I lay me down - s.r.

a/n: ex!spencer gets shot, and you show up at the hospital to see if he's okay. spencer is still desperately in love with you. based on this post wc: 2.3k (she is LONG)

Spencer wakes to a cacophony of sounds, others breathing and various beeps and hums from a variety of medical machines. He hates the noise of the hospital, as he knows what always follows. It’s pain, and ever since he kicked dilaudid, he doesn’t get the relief that people are always pushing on him here. 

The last thing Spencer remembers, he was in front of Morgan, who was about to get shot- it was a piercing memory, one that even the anesthetic wearing off slowly couldn’t numb. He’d jumped in front of it, and the pieces of Morgan pacing around his room and the whole being in a hospital thing click into place. 

When he blinks his eyes open, he sees Hotch speaking to the doctor with his endearingly concerned eyebrow scrunch and it’s then that he notices a familiar scent in the air. 

It’s perfume- he knows because he’d bought it- a mixture of jasmine and lilies, and the memory of the night he gave it to her bursts into technicolor when he closes his eyes. It had been her birthday, and he’d gone with Penelope and Emily to pick out a gift for her. 

He remembers how she’d lit up, her warm doe eyes brightening with fondness that he’d earned, and the way his heart had flipped in his chest- the memory is in crisp detail. He remembers the way she’d kissed him, equal measure in thanks and in adoration, and it’s comforting to remember right now. He tries to think of her often, especially when waves of pain crash over him like an unruly ocean that threatens to drown him. There was someone who loved him at one point, he tries to remember. 

He wants to compliment the nurse wearing it, but even as limited as his social skills are in this state, he knows that telling the nurse you like her perfume because your ex wore it is probably inappropriate. 

A roar of desire presents itself in his chest- he has no desire to want her here, but Spencer can’t help but fantasize about her presence. Her nimble fingers running through his hair, her soft voice cooing at his injuries. It was always nice to come home to her after a rough day- her disposition warm and kind and good. It’s his fault he doesn’t have it- his fault that she doesn’t love him anymore. 

It’s as if he conjured her, when she walks in the door. 

He literally cannot believe that she is here, in his hospital room- he drinks in the sight of her like a man starved. She’s beautiful- he’d never forget this but it’s been so long since he’s seen her. The curve of her cheek, her cupid’s bow, the slope of her neck- the details he spent the best year of his life memorizing under careful touch. 

Her body language is protective, one arm wrapped around her waist and the other at her mouth, her delicate fingers holding a tissue. Had she been crying?

Before he can think of what to say to her, she speaks to him. 

“How are you feeling?”

He’d forgotten just how her voice sounded. Or rather, how it sounded when she was concerned for him. It’s addicting, hedonistic in the ways of wine and drugs and everything else you should have in moderation but had to give up. It’s just so comforting, her lovely doe eyes looking at him with warmth and concern. 

“Hey,” he replies, not answering her question. He might be imagining her. They might have given him drugs. There’s no way she came and see him of her own volition. 

She pauses for a moment, biting her lip in an incredibly endearing way (and god, he’d missed looking at her) before she makes the decision to walk over to the side of his bed. He tries to crane his neck to look at her and she scolds him, and this doesn’t make any sense. 

“You got shot,” she says, voice warm and concerned, and if he squinted he could hear love in her voice. 

“I’m okay,” he tries to reply. 

“You got shot,” she says, eyes flaring with emotion. She always hated that he minimized his pain. 

“You came,” he says, after a beat of silence. Her fingers are running through his hair and he tries to commit this to memory. It doesn’t mean she loves him. She’s the kind of person who stops on the street to give someone the last dollar in her wallet, of course she would visit her ex-boyfriend in the hospital after he got shot.

It doesn’t mean anything. 

“Of course I came, Spence,” she says, intentionality in her tone, “You got hurt.”

It’s selfish to lean into her touch, but she smells like home and he doesn’t know if he will ever be held like this again by her. And he doesn’t care to be held by anyone else. 

Hotch comes in, and if he’s surprised to see the two of them together, it doesn’t show on his face. He tells Spencer that the. Bullet had been clean through, and that he’d been lucky. He’d avoided internal bleeding and would need to stay at home for a week. 

When Hotch leaves to ‘give him some space to process’, the silence lingers.

“Thank you for coming.”

It’s kind of worse, actually. The reality where she’s still his girlfriend is superimposed on top of this one, and he can feel the ghost of the kisses she’d pepper his cheeks with. If she still loved him, then she’d hug him and tell him that she loves him, tell him how angry she is for jumping in front of a stray bullet. 

It’s my fault, he thinks to himself, eyes raking over her. She’d definitely been crying, he realizes. Her makeup had run and he think she might have slept here. How had he ever gotten someone like her to fall in love with him? 

It’s his fault she doesn’t love him anymore.

When the doctor tells him that he needs someone to stay with him for the next few days, and she volunteers, he agrees.

It’s a nice kind of pain, he thinks. Any piece of her is more than he wants of anything else.

_______________________________________

It turns out that she is a wonderful caregiver. 

Penelope had been incredibly supportive of this idea, somehow convinced that the proximity would bring them back together. This is a hope that Spencer does not engage in, but still- it’s nice to have her around. 

She knows her way around his apartment- knows how he organizes her things. Half her things used to be there too. 

Memory is a funny thing. The worst part by far of eidetic memory is the lack of forgetting, and up until now, this was best seen in the horrors of his work. Now, it’s all her.

Taking care of him when he got shot is not the same thing as loving him. 

When she makes them dinner (which is so kind of her- he offered to buy takeout and she’d insisted on recreating his mother’s soup recipe. She’d kept a copy of it in her phone. Spencer had almost died of flattery), she sits next to him on his couch

It’s funny how the best memories of his life are so colored now- their trip to Europe, their first kiss, the first time he’d cooked her dinner and she’d watched Doctor Who with him. Ghosts of memory linger through the place, and it hurts to see her sit next to him on the couch with a foot between them. 

“Thank you for being here,” he says after a beat of silence. She looks beautiful, and he always thinks this. She’s wearing his t-shirt which is just an awfully tempting view. 

It’s his fault he can’t have what he wants. 

“I told you I still wanted us to be friends,” she says, looking down at her bowl, “You’re my friend. I’m happy to do this.”

He can tell she means it as an olive branch but it cuts like a knife. Because he never wanted to be her friend. She was the first thing he even wanted enough to ask for it. He still remembers when he’d asked her out the first time, the stuttering and the way she’d looked, how impossible her liking him back had felt. 

And then he’d managed to make her fall in love with him. It didn’t even take much- he just had to be himself, the way she says it, and he’d give anything to have that back. 

“You’re a good friend,” he replies, instead of everything he’s thinking. 

“Hotch thinks so,” she muses, not looking at him, “He was surprised I’d come here after you broke up with me.”

It’s a slight lash out, and it’s fair. It’s not fair that she’s here, wearing his fucking t-shirt, her collarbones exposed under the fabric. He know what her skin feels like under his lips, and now she make veiled comment on his couch. 

“Why did you?”

He can’t figure it out. They’d broken up two months ago. He’d done it to protect her- after the anthrax case he’d been fucking fixated on her getting hurt. Because this is the stuff he can’t protect her from. Can’t help if biomedical hazards end up on his clothes,  and if he comes home shot. 

He got shot. He’s the kind of person who doesn’t get forever with the woman he loves, because he can’t keep her safe. Even if he quit just then- enough people have made an enemy of him. She’d never be safe.

So he made a choice to cut his ties and let her go, and yes, every fucking night since he’s had at least one nightmare about what she looks like crying and asking him to stay. He never, ever wanted to see her like that, but he also never ever wanted her to be a widow. 

She’d find someone else. She’s so easy to love- he doesn’t like to think about someone else loving her, but he’s sure she won’t be alone. 

His voice catches in his throat.

“It is nice of you,” Spencer chokes out, “I never wanted you to have to do that.”

“Let’s not talk about this now,” she says, getting up to get him another serving, and he grabs her wrist.

“Ba- Hey, please. Talk to me.”

“What do you want me to say?” she says at him, but she doesn’t pull her wrist back. 

“I just-“ he stammers, but it’s heavy and something he can’t give up, the combination of her gaze under his and her soft skin in his grasp, “I can’t have you here and hate me. I just can’t take you hating me. I know- I know what I did. I know it’s not fair to ask and I know that we’re not together and I know it’s my fault but god, you can’t hate me. I can’t take it.”

“You think I hate you?”

“Why wouldn’t you?”

“You think I came to the hospital in the middle of the night, slept in a waiting room, cooked you soup and slept on your couch because I hate you?”

He doesn’t know what to say. How could she still love him? 

“It’s you,” he replies. “You’d always do that for me.”

She’s closer now, moving into his space more and more and he can smell his own body soap on her because she showered here, and he’s overcome with a desire to hold her. 

“Why do you think that is?”

She’s almost in his lap now, and there’s a greed to this now, the way he pulls her a little bit closer. She tips her head back in a bitter, tinny laugh that he doesn’t like the sound of. 

“I mean, Spencer- I love you so much that I don’t even care if you love me back.”

“You still love me?”

“I’m working on it,” she says, a bitter smile on her face, “You’re hard to get over.”

“Don’t get over me.”

It’s not the smoothest thing he could’ve sid, and he kind of regrets the implication on her face, sees her gorgeous features crumple. 

“That’s mean, Spence.” 

“No! No. Don’t. Don’t-don’t do that. Don’t move on with your life and find someone else because this is the lightest I’ve felt in fucking weeks.”

Her eyes widen into saucers, and her grip tightens on his hands, and Spencer feels like he could fly. 

“I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have made you go and I should’ve let you be the person who picks me up at the hospital and I know, I know how lucky I am that you’re still here, that you cared enough. Please, please don’t get over me. I know it’s not far to ask.”

She blinks a few times at him before opening her arms for a hug, of which he flies into at breakneck speed. His ribs hurt but he’d forgotten what it was like to hold her. And yes, maybe wanting this makes himself selfish, but he wants this. Maybe this can the one thing he lets himself have. 

“I do love you. ” he speaks into her collarbone, and she shushes him. 

“No, no,” he says, looking up at her, her gorgeous doe eyes shaky with uncertainty he knows is his fault, “If you’ll still have me, I’d like to-I’d like to try again. And I know that you probably can’t trust me and I have so much to make up for and-“

“Spencer,” she says warmly, twining their fingers, “I’d like to kiss you now. Okay?”

He nods a bit fervently, shaking as he does, but when she kisses him-

It’s just as he remembers. She leans into him, her delicate fingers cupping his jaw and he wraps his spindles arms around the curve of her waist, pinning her to him like she might float away if untethered. 

When Spencer gets back to the office, he it’s not just his wounds that have healed. 

[lqveharrington]

steve harrington - you are in love <3

congrats on 2k!

You Are In Love | S.H.

summary: you and steve have been best friends forever, but overtime, you both realize that there's something more to your friendship than you both thought there was.

pairing: steve harrington x hopper!reader

includes: fluff, minimal usage of Y/N, oblivious idiots, kissing, el and reader are siblings, robin and max play match maker

a/n: cutie patootie stevie! (rules for celebration here!)

Steve Harrington was the type of man girls would go crazy over. From the way he behaved to the way he dressed, they would do anything to get his attention. Luckily for you, he deemed you to be his best friend since childhood. When Tommy and Carol whined about you always hanging around them in high school, Steve would swiftly change the subject. He really only liked hanging out with you anyway.

When you both graduated, something shifted between the two of you. Without the hindrance of Tommy and Carol, you and Steve were free to do whatever you wanted. Whenever you would hang around him, it felt like time would stop. He kept you on your toes despite knowing him for so long.

Weekly dinners around Hawkins during the year would soon become a tradition between the two of you. In your eyes they were friendly dates, but to the kids, you were practically dating. From the whispers as you hung back with him when taking the kids around the mall to the silver necklace he bought you during the summer — they saw something you and Steve couldn't.

They had to do something about it. Fortunately for them, you both made it quite easy.

"Harrington, are you taking me to dinner today or should we reschedule?" You hop onto the counter of Family Video, crossing your legs and smiling brightly at him. "Henderson told me you might have to drive him home after his DND thing or whatever."

"First of all," He started and pulled your legs to the side, sending you a bored look. "I'm at work and you can't bother me." You jokingly pout and follow his movements, watching him restock the bowl of candies at the front. "Secondly, we're still on for dinner. Dustin can get a ride from Munson."

You throw your head back and laugh, "Ah yes, the shared custody of your child."

He rolled his eyes and looked past your head, narrowing his eyes at Max and Eleven. "Why did the girls want to come here again?"

"Uhm, they said they were checking out a new movie that came out." You shrug and slide off the counter. You look in their direction to find them giggling and whispering about something you almost wanted to know about. Almost. "Anyway, don't miss me too much. I'll see you in a few hours, Harrington."

Steve pressed a kiss to the side of your head and pushed a stray piece of hair away from your face. "I'll see you in a bit, Hopper."

You grinned at him and sent him one last wave before rounding up the girls, dragging them back to your car. Before you could even ask them to buckle up, they began hounding you with questions you never expected them to ask. One of the more odd questions sticking out the most.

"Have you ever slept with Steve?" Eleven asked, making you whip around with wide eyes and mouth agape. Her own eyes widened in fear and looked at you with concern. "What?"

Your face flushed a dark red and you began to stutter over your words, unsure of where the question even originated from. "Well, I— No, I haven't but I'm— I'm sorry? What's happening? Do you even know what that means?"

"That you sleep in the same bed as him." She tilted her head and giggled at your red face. "Is that not what that means?"

Max shook her head but found it all amusing, crossing her arms and raising her eyebrows at you. "You seem a little flustered, Hopper. What's up with that?"

"Nothing." You glare at her from your rear view as you pull out of the parking and begin the drive to her house. When Eleven still stared in confusion, you sighed and ran your fingers through your hair. "Yes, I have slept in the same bed as Steve before. And not like that, Mayfield."

"What?"

You shake your head and follow the road down, eyes occasionally flickering up to look at the girls who were still giggling. You didn't understand what they were trying to get at. You've always been able to sleep in the same bed as Steve since an incident years ago, but that was the extent of it all. Sure, you would occasionally sleep in one of his shirts and he would make you breakfast in the mornings, but that was it.

"Have you ever been on a date, Y/N?" Eleven asked again and fiddled with the ends of her sweater, eyes meeting yours in the mirror. "Like the ones me and Mike go on?"

"Uh," You signal and stop at a red light, fingers tapping the steering wheel in an effort to keep your cool. "I have, but it's been a while since I've been on a date."

As you turn, Eleven makes another comment that nearly makes you swerve right off the road. "I thought you and Steve were dating."

You choke on your spit and grip the wheel harder, face redder than Max's hair. Although you knew your sister's words were somewhat innocent, you knew the other girl was behind all the questioning. Steve was nothing but a friend to you. Your best friend. It would be weird to think of him as anything other than that, right?

Since childhood, he was nothing but your best friend. Sometimes you couldn’t help but think what would happen if anything else came out of it, but only in your dreams. When you realized how quiet you were, you silently cursed yourself for staying silent for too long as the girls came to their own conclusion.

"He kisses you a lot." Max drawled and bit back a smirk when your face reddens again, the sight nearly making her laugh once more. "Like more than you study for your exams in college—"

"What will it take for you two to be quiet for the rest of the ride?" You continue to glare at the red-head in the backseat and squint when she opened her mouth. "And your answer will not be money."

Max sighed and looked at Eleven, their eyes meeting and silently communicating with each other. They grinned wickedly and looked over at you, tone overly sweet when they answered your question.

"Admit you're in love with Steve Harrington."

"Oh, Stevie!" Robin grinned widely as she sauntered back in from the break room, leaning back against the counter. She met his confused eyes and tilted her head, still wearing a mischievous grin. "I have a tiny, little question for you."

Steve dug through the boxes underneath the table and waved his hand, barely listening to the girl. "Which is?"

"Could I just — I dunno — take a peek at your wallet?” She asked and pursed her lips to stop from laughing when she saw his incredulous expression peek from underneath the counter. “I just want to make sure my assumptions are right.”

"About what?" Steve sighed in exasperation and ran his fingers through his hair, praying that his hair still looked perfect after how many times he had done it.

"Just give me your stupid wallet." Robin huffed and snatched the leather from his hands. She scrunched her nose at him before opening the wallet, gasping when she found what she was looking for. "Oh my gosh."

Steve creased his brows and looked at the contents of his wallet. There was nothing but cash, his license, cards, and picture he’s had since high school. If Robin was planning on stealing, she picked the wrong day.

"What?"

"You do have a picture of Y/N in your wallet!" Robin all but squealed like a child, causing the customers in the store to look over at the commotion.

Steve sent them a strained smile before grabbing his wallet back from Robin and tucking it away, muttering quiet obscenities to the girl. Robin rolled her eyes, but the smirk that curled her lips overtook her emotions. He knew that some kind of electricity between the two oblivious idiots.

"You like her!" She spoke in a sing-song voice, lightly punching his shoulder. Robin laughed in excitement and shook her head before pausing, turning to look at Steve like a behavioral analyst. "Unless it's something more."

He looked to his left and to his right before raising a brow at her. He would never admit it out loud, but somewhere along the line he fell for you. Hard. From summer car drives to coffee at midnight — you were the one for him. Yet he didn’t want to ruin what the two of you had.

When Steve stayed silent for too long, she started to punch his shoulder in excitement again. It was the silence between asking about love that seemed to trigger everyone today.

"Oh, you're in love! Steve 'the hair' Harrington finally falls in love with his one true love!" She dramatically put a hand to her forehead and leaned back on the counter again. "I thought I would never live to see the day that happens."

He huffed and lightly shoved her, rubbing his hand over his face. "She's my best friend."

"And?" Robin pushed him back and continued to smile, clearly finding his reaction amusing. It wasn’t rare for her to tease him about his dates, but knowing that he was deeply in love with you made it so much more fun. "She clearly likes you too."

"She does?" Steve perked up and rolled his eyes when she winked at him. He flipped her off and pretended to be busy again. “You’re so annoying.”

"Stevie is in love!" She laughed again and sighed softly, tapping her fingers against the counter. "You're going to dinner with her tonight, right?"

He sent her an odd look and nodded, brows furrowing in confusion. "Yeah, what does that—?"

"Confess tonight! I'm sure she loves you too, Harrington." She slammed her palms down onto the counter, once again attracting the customers in the store. Steve sent them another apologetic look before turning his head to glare at the girl. By the end of the day, he swore that they would get a complaint about Robin.

Robin put a hand up to his face when she saw he was going to speak. “And before you back out, the girls and I already made a plan so nothing becomes awkward between the two of you if it fails."

Steve’s eyes widened and pushed her hand out of the way, mind reeling at all the knew information. "Wait what?"

"Nothing!"

After dinner, you both decided to take a walk around the neighborhood. The temperature was perfect and you and Steve had plenty of calories to kill before heading to bed. Besides, you both had unspoken words to say to one another.

"Are you okay? You've been acting strange since you picked me up." You nudged your shoulder with his and tilted your head, eyes worried with concern.

As you walked through the neighborhood, the orange lights from the posts began to flicker on as the sun set in front of you. On instinct, you moved closer to Steve, accommodating to the warmth you were losing. He hid a small smile and pulled you close by the shoulders.

Steve shrugged and kissed the side of your head again. The gears in his head were loudly turning and he wasn’t sure how to make them stop. He met your eyes and smiled softly when you smiled up at him.

"On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate the new diner?" He nudged his head back toward the diner.

You hummed and tapped your chin in thought, snapping your fingers when you figured out how to put it. "A solid six and a half. They threw us a dirty glare for being too loud, but their milkshakes were perfect."

He raised his brows and chuckled softly when you rolled your eyes at him. You were always such a sucker for strawberry milkshakes. "Yeah?"

"Yes, Harrington.” You send him a teasing smile before extending your arm and flashing him your left hand adorned with the wrapping from the straw wrapper. “I even got to make us our paper rings."

You turned to face him properly and grabbed his left hand, lacing them together to show the matching rings. You went to say something else when you found him already staring at you, making your mind instantly blank.

Steve swallowed and squeezed your hand, taking a step closer to you. "Y/N?"

"Yeah?" You murmur and take your own step closer until you were chest to chest.

His gaze dropped to your lips before looking back into your eyes, eyes filled with so much emotion. You gave him a curt nod and let him cup your cheek, shutting your eyes when he leaned in.

Your lips met and for the first time, you really believed time truly stopped. It was just you and him on the sidewalk of Hawkins, Indiana. Your own hands came up to grab the lapels of his denim jacket, deepening the kiss when he pulled you impossibly closer.

When you finally pulled away, your mind was still blanking and the first thing you could say was —

"Oh, my strawberry milkshake." You whisper out before groaning, hiding your face in his shoulder. "Now the thing I say after we first kiss will always be strawberry milkshake!"

Steve kisses the top of your head and gently squeezed your waist. "You're cute."

You scoff before looking up, playing with the buttons on his jacket. "Did Robin put you up to this?"

"Yep." He chuckled and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, narrowing his eyes at you when he realized what Robin meant. "Did the girls?"

"Yep." You sigh and push up on your toes to give him a quick peck. You tilt your head when he smiles, "We're not going to tell them about this and make them feel bad, right?"

"Of course not.” He laced his hands with yours and began the trek back to his car. "We're only best friends after all."

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[urlocal-limitesshbic]

*.˗ˏˋ DEILD- The Quickest And Easiest Method To Lucid Dream That I know ´ˎ˗.*

Listennnn, I love the lucid dream method down. It is AND ALWAYS WILL BE my favorite way to shift, apart from the void state.

BUT I know I cannot be the only one struggling to get lucid😩😭 At least I used to struggle before I found DEILD. I found other techniques tedious, having to do constant reality checks during the day felt like a chore and lying completely still in bed for 30+ minutes waiting for my body to fall asleep was quite literally torture to me. IF I could stay awake through it because most times I couldn’t or just rolled over and gave up because nothing was happening and I was très uncomfortable.

I’ve tried mild, SSILD, fild, ALL THE “ILDS” every single one and while they are effective, I’ve finally found the technique that works best for me and takes the least amount of time so I thought I would share, just in case it may help someone else!

With this technique you…..

Go from being awake directly into a lucid dream without falling asleep (this is called a wake initiated lucid dream and in my experience I feel more aware and in control with these vs when I randomly become aware in the middle of my dream. They are also easier to remember if you have poor dream recall. )

Are able to start the lucid dream scene in the privacy of your own room so you don’t have to worry about trying to shift in the middle of distracting dream scenes or dealing with distracting dream characters

You can save a Lucid dream that’s been cut short or even have several lucid dreams in one night using this method

Don’t need to do reality checks during the day if you don’t want to or do any other daytime prep

The whole thing takes 10-30 seconds START TO FINISH!

The technique…

*.˗ˏˋ DEILD ´ˎ˗.*

Dream Exit Initiated Lucid dream

Steps…

Before bed set the intention that when you wake up you will immediately remember to perform DEILD

Set a touchless alarm to wake you up anywhere from 3-6 hours after falling asleep. I like this one! Maybe put it in a playlist with a lucid dreaming subliminal or theta waves set to play after the alarm goes off to boost your chances of becoming Lucid🌙

Go to bed as normal. As I fall asleep I like to imagine myself waking up to the alarm and successfully performing DEILD. Then I imagine myself successfully entering the void from the LD and then successfully waking up in my wr. I loop this sequence until I fall asleep. I do this to help me remember to do the technique the second I wake up, but it is not at all necessary.

Immediately upon waking and hearing the alarm, I try to remember to stay still and not open my eyes. Minimal movement is fine, but we’re trying to convince our body that we’re still asleep! The alarm will shut off on its own.

Wait for what feels like 10 seconds without actually counting (Again, you don’t want to activate your Brain and wake yourself up too much )

After it feels like 10 seconds have gone by, do a reality check like the nose pinch test EVEN IF YOU FEEL WIDE AWAKE and don’t think you could possibly already be back asleep in only 10 seconds. Most of the time you’ll already be in what is called a false awakening-when you think you’re awake in bed but you’re actually dreaming

If you were able to breathe through your closed nose you are now in a lucid dream starting out in your room. You can proceed to shift to your dr in any way you like-some of my go to’s are:

-creating a portal

-entering the void and shifting from there

-entering the astral realm and shifting from there

-waking myself up from the dream but intending to wake up in my dr not my cr

Editors note:

If when you do the nose pinch test, you are still awake, repeat step 6 up to 2 more times. If by this point, you still have not entered a lucid dream, it is best to go back to bed and try again the next time you wake up. This method is very effective but fragile, as it is best performed in that very small hypnopompic window right when you are teetering on the edge of awake and asleep.

Why this method works…

When you wake up from sleep and don’t move or open your eyes, it tricks your body into thinking that you’re still asleep and it puts you back in a dream, even though your mind is actually awake! This is why a touchless alarm is helpful, or you can use natural awakenings.

Troubleshooting the method…

The hardest part about this method is remembering to stay still as soon as you wake up.

You can set the intention to remember to do so before bed

You can also use prospective memory training during the day (every time you look in a mirror/ drink something/ plug in your phone/ enter a different room etc you can affirm “the next time I wake up I will immediately remember to perform DEILD” )

And if you move by mistake or have to use an alarm that needs manually turned off, all is not necessarily lost. it’s still worth trying anyway as long as you think you’ll be able to fall back asleep! Just wait 30 seconds instead of 10 before doing a reality check and consider using an anchor to help keep you focused and awake (could be focusing on the sound of the subliminal if you made a playlist, or the sound of a fan etc)

TLDR OF THE TECHNIQUE:

Wake up either naturally or to a touch-less alarm. If you must use a manual alarm, keep movement minimal as to not activate your brain too much.

Lie still with your eyes closed and keep a blank mind for 10-30 seconds

Do a reality check to see if you are lucid dreaming

Shift from the lucid dream

Videos explaining the technique….

“Use this simple technique for more lucid dreams. Please.” -Tiger123

“Lucid dreaming techniques shouldn’t be this easy!” - Daniel Love

“Dream exit induced lucid dreams-DEILD tutorial”- Tipharot

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Just A Little Bit Jealous - Logan Howlett X GN Reader

Title: Just A Little Bit Jealous

Logan Howlett X GN Reader

Additional Characters: Charles (Mentioned), Hank, Co-workers, Scott (Mentioned), Random bar people, and Rogue (Mentioned)

Requested by: Anon!

WC: 4,927

Warnings: Jealousy, slight violence, slight suggestiveness, nicknames, teasing, banter, flirting, bars, alcohol (beer) mentioned, unwanted flirting and physical touch (nothing major), Reader has Telekinesis (and other unspecified mutations), minimal cursing, men being jerks, blood briefly mentioned, angst, and fluff

Logan wasn't the best with emotions. Or at expressing them really. However, in certain situations, the emotions that did seem to shine through were not the most positive ones. Especially as Logan found himself standing at the entrance of the X-Mansion kitchen; raging, for a lack of better words.

His vision was green. A dark haze settled over his eyes. It was a look that only Logan could achieve. The anger in his gut was beginning to bowl over. He needed to calm down, but how? 

Seeing you, looking the way you did, absolutely gorgeous in that outfit - the one that made you feel confident - it wasn’t even anything fancy, just your usual attire; something more laidback for the weekend. The way that you seemed to be oblivious to the way that Hank was looking at you. Logan understood. You looked stunning, as always. 

Even though Logan knew that he shouldn't be feeling such... Well, jealousy. Hank was a long-time friend of both of yours, and you and Logan had been together for well over a year at this point. But, he couldn't help it. It was like an itch under his skin that he couldn’t reach to scratch. Logan felt protective. As he usually felt for those he truly cared about. And even though he knew that he didn't need to worry, again, he couldn't help it. Logan knew Hank, and he knew him long enough to know that he was a good guy. Hank wouldn't try and steal you from him, not that you were something to steal. Logan didn't own you, if you so wished, you could leave him. You could do whatever you wanted. You could leave and forget all about him.

Though, that just might've been Logan's insecurities talking. 

At some point, while Logan was stuck in his head, his eyes still glaring holes into the side of Hank's head. Logan was not paying much attention to your conversation, but whatever it was about, Hank made you laugh. Another wave of jealousy rippled out of Logan. But, thankfully for Logan - and Hank - the conversation between you and Hank ended.

"Have a good night, Y/N," Hank spoke, grabbing his coke can from the kitchen counter.

"Goodnight, Hank." You replied, noticing Logan at the kitchen entrance, leaning against the wall; his arms crossed. 

Hank turned and paused, also noticing Logan, giving the man a grin. "Good evening, Logan."

"Evening," Logan grumbled, eyeing the man as Hank awkwardly passed him and left the room; escaping down the hall. 

You huffed, turning to lean against the kitchen counter, pressing the palms of your hands against the edge of it. You stared at Logan, inspecting his body language, trying to get a feel for how he was feeling, and Logan stared right back at you. You mimicked him, moving your arms to cross them over your chest, and at his eyebrow raise, you raised yours. His frown slowly slipped into a small grin at your actions, making your lips tug upwards in response. You moved towards him. "Hey..." Your voice was soft, yet full of curiosity. You looked up at him, taking him in fully once again.

Logan leaned forward slightly, his crossed arms dropping, and his hands coming to rest on your waist, "Hey..." He mimicked your greeting, making you huff again.

Raising your hands, you placed them on his own waist, your pointer fingers looping into his blue Jeans belt loops. "What's up with you?" You asked, tilting your head back a bit to look up at him. "Something on your mind?" You pressed on, pulling yourself closer to him.

"Hmm..." Logan hummed softly, gazing down at you for a moment - just admiring you, your eyes shining as bright as ever, looking up at him with such love and admiration - before lowering his face to meet yours, capturing your lips in a kiss. The kiss was slow but passionate. It sent shivers down your spine. One of your hands left his waist, cupping the back of his neck, the tips of your fingers running through the soft, brown hair at the nape of his neck. Your head was in the clouds, lost in Logan’s lips against yours. Logan felt all the anger and jealousy just wash away, leaving nothing but the love he felt for you burning inside of him. With each kiss and every touch, he felt a little bit lighter. 

You slowly pulled away from the intoxicating kiss, your eyes feeling heavy and your heart full, you couldn't stop your smile from growing as your whole body felt warm. You bit your bottom lip as you watched Logan chase your lips, before gently pressing his forehead against yours. 

You sighed, shutting your eyes once more, "I hope you didn't think that kissing me would get you out of answering." You lightly teased, feeling Logan's warm breath waft against your face as he let out a sigh of his own.

Logan's hands tightened around your waist, the warmth from his hands seeping through your shirt and onto your flesh. “Nothin' much on my mind, bub," Logan spoke, letting out one more sigh before letting his shoulders fall slightly, "Jus' a bit tired."

You hummed, nudging your nose gently against his before pulling your forehead from his, glancing at the kitchen clock on the wall. "It is almost seven." You turned to look back up at him, seeing that he was already looking right back down at you. "Kind of early to be tired, eh, old man?" You continued to tease, though Logan gave you a look and a small chuckle, you know that something else was swimming in that head of his; and you decided to let him just tell you whatever it was when he was ready.

Logan's grin turned into a smirk, blinking down at you tiredly, his hands on your waist tugging you back into him; your hands coming up to rest against his chest. "I put the 'grand' in 'grandpa'." He spoke. 

At that, you let out a snort, and the two of you started laughing quietly. It took a few moments before you quieted down, your hand coming up to your mouth as you looked at Logan; your eyes squinted slightly, trying to contain your giggles. "Either, you've been spending way too much time with Charles, or you really are tired." You giggled out, your laughter slowly subsiding.

Logan's chest heaved lightly as he chuckled once more, "Maybe both." 

As the both of you started to head up to your shared bedroom, Logan almost forgot what he was all upset over. Almost. 

~~~

Logan had once again found himself watching from afar as some guy - a co-worker - talked to you. You somehow convinced Logan to be your plus one for a work party that your job was hosting. Logan didn't want to go, but with your little pout - and Puss In Boots eyes - he caved, knowing that he wouldn’t win against you. You even convinced him to dress somewhat rather nicely, in black slacks, his boots, and his red flannel rolled up past his elbows. Yes, he looked nice, but he really wanted to wear his Jeans.

Logan disliked parties. Parties were different from bars though, you didn't have to interact with others. And with most parties, there was an expectation to mingle with others. Logan, however, did not want to mingle with others. He was a loner after all. 

He stood next to the table of snacks and refreshments, holding a small red solo cup of fruit punch for you; sadly for Logan, the party didn't have any alcohol. He could've really gone for a beer or two, but no. No, instead he had to stick to his own cup of fruit punch that he held in his other hand. 

But he watched, watched as you spoke to that co-worker of yours. Again, similar to Hank, the man said something to make you laugh - though, Logan knew you incredibly well enough to know that it was not a genuine laugh; the man even had the gall to reach out with his free hand to hold your upper arm for a moment. And Logan did what he could to push the jealousy that he was feeling down. Walking over, he skillfully maneuvered around some other people, making his way over to you. 

You nodded your head, letting out another fake laugh before you noticed Logan walking towards you in the corner of your eye. Turning your head, a real smile graced your features as you waved him over. "Logan! This is Henri."

"With an 'I'," Henri raised his cup in the air slightly with the inflection, giving Logan a grin, and offering his free hand out to the Wolverine. "Henri French."

Logan stared at him, with a hardened look, handing you your cup of punch without even looking at you. Taking Henri's offered hand, he shook it firmly - possibly enough to warn the guy to keep his fingers off of you. "Logan." He spoke simply, his voice gruff and low; letting go of Henri's hand, stuffing it into his slack's pocket. He turned his gaze back towards you, seeing your eyebrows knit together, and the confusion written across your face, your eyes searching his, though you quickly turned to look back at Henri with a smile; your hand curling around Logan's upper arm, the tips of your fingers brushing under the rolled sleeve of his flannel. At the touch of your chilled skin on his, Logan felt himself breathing out a deep sigh from his nose, you always knew how to calm him.

At Logan's nothing-but-short introduction, Henri let out a small laugh, "I know, Y/N said that was your name." He joked. "They seem to never shut up about you." Though Logan felt a sense of pride wash over him - making the corner of his lips twitch at the thought of you rambling about him to your co-workers - he also felt slightly off when Henri said that, the tone unnerved him. 

You huffed, rolling your eyes before you turned to look up at Logan with a sweet smile. "Lo, honey, could you hold my drink for me, please? I spotted Anna. I'll be back in a jiffy." And with that, your punch cup was back in his hand, and he was left alone to deal with Henri all by himself. 

Logan watched as you left, seeing you weave around a few people, waving to another co-worker of yours; an older woman with black hair and large glasses. Turning to look back at Henri, he noticed his gaze on you. And, in fact, Logan didn't like how Henri was looking at you. He was staring at you like he wanted you - the guy was even biting his lip, his eyes trailing up and down your body - Logan didn't like that one bit.

Letting out a small chuckle, Henri turned back to Logan, taking a sip of his punch. "You got a fine piece of ace there." Logan's brows furrowed, he wasn't exactly fond of how this conversation was going. 

"Excuse me?" Logan's voice deepened - a growl almost leaving his throat - as if he was warning Henri, feeling a burning feeling bubbling up inside him, but Henri just raised an eyebrow, brushing his short, blonde curls away from his forehead.

"Can't help a guy for being a bit curious, can you?" Logan pursed his lips, and Henri took the chance to continue, "So, how did you catch them? I've worked with them for three years now, and they never took me up on anything. I mean, come on, give a guy a break. What’s a guy gotta do to get some action around here?" He chuckled, and Logan felt his hands grip the cups of punch a bit tighter, the plastic of the cups crinkling slightly as the pressure. "You've got to tell me how you won them over. Did they play hard to get with you too?"

Logan wanted to lash out, but he knew how important this was for you, and he didn’t want to cause a scene in front of you and all of your co-workers… But, Logan was pretty close to punching this guy’s teeth in. "I don't have to tell ya nothin'," Logan finally growled, making Henri raise his hands in defense as he chuckled lightly. 

"Okay! Relax, buddy! Don't have to be so hostile, man, I'm just curious how good they are in-" Suddenly, Henri paused mid sentence, his own hand holding his cup of punch moving up in a swift motion. In confusion - and bewilderment - Logan watched as Henri moved the cup above his head, his body seemingly moving involuntarily. All the while, Henri's eyes were wide, his mouth agape as he blabbered nonsense in horror and confusion, before the cup flipped upside down, drenching himself in his own punch. The couple of people around both men stopped their conversations, turning to witness Henri as he slowly brought his hand down, his mouth opening and closing; his blonde curls wet and sticking to his forehead. "I- uh," He stammered out, "I- I don't know why I did that." He spoke out, sounding incredibly embarrassed.

Turning his head to look over in your direction, seeing you already looking over at him, a small, mischievous grin and a knowing look in your eyes. He matched your grin, knowing full well that this was your doing. 

~~~

When Logan said that he was going to go out on his bike, he wasn't expecting you to ask to come along. He was just going to a bar that was a couple of miles away, but the more the merrier; and Logan was actually meaning to show you the bar - that surprisingly didn't sell crap beer, at some point. When the world let the both of you, you and Logan would just ride around, sometimes for hours, just enjoying each other's company; the wind blowing through your hair, and the scenic views.

So, you and Logan drove off on his - Scott's - motorcycle, heading off to that bar that he told you all about. You weren’t all for bars, finding them a bit too loud and the lights a bit too dim. But, you had been curious ever since the many times Logan spoke about it when he got back to the Mansion. And even though Logan couldn't get drunk, you convinced him to let you drive the both of you home. Which was always fun for you. So, this was technically a win-win for both of you. Logan got to go to his bar, you got to drive home, and you both got to spend some quality time together.

When you pulled up to the bar, you slipped off of the bike, looking at the bar with your hands on your hips as Logan kicked the kickstand and slid off the bike. Looking around the exterior of the place, you noted how loud it seemed, even from the outside. You were in for a headache in the morning, and it wasn't going to be from the alcohol. 

"Ya good, bub?" Logan asked, his hand pressing the small of your back, his words breaking you out of your thoughts. 

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, I am," You nodded your head, glancing up at him, "I will admit, I am slightly nervous."

Logan nodded, turning his head to look at the bar, "I get it, but don't worry. I ain't gonna leave your side." Pulling you into his side, he gave you his signature grin, "Plus, they got the best fries."

"I like fries." You grinned right back up at him, "Lead the way."

"Sure thin', darlin'."

As Logan pushed the door open for you, you were immediately greeted by the smell of beer, sweat, and smoke; and the loud music that you heard outside, blasting overhead.

Logan’s hand was protectively placed on your lower back as he led you to the bar at the far end of the room. As you both walked, you took the time to look around and spied a couple of men playing pool to the right, and a handful of tables filled with all sorts of people to your left; drinking, smoking, and talking. At the far end of the bar, you found several men sitting on the bar's stools, watching the TV in the corner of the room; a football game was on. You were thankful that the bar wasn't full of just men, having spotted a couple of women here and there; with their partners, friends, etcetera. 

Finding a couple of empty stools at the bar, you and Logan took your seats, the bartender sliding over from behind the bar; cleaning a glass with a cloth. He was a burly man, with a well-trimmed beard and mustache - and a bunch of tattoos littering his arms. He gave Logan a nod, glancing at you before speaking.

"What can I get you two?" He asked, raising his voice slightly to be heard over the music. His voice was deeper than what you had thought it was going to be, as he sat the glass and cloth down.

"Beer," Logan answered, and the bartender nodded, then turned to you.

You waved a dismissive hand, letting out an awkward chuckle, "I'll just take some fries. Thanks!" 

"Yeah," Logan spoke up, "Thanks, Charlie." And this Charlie nodded once more, leaving to get Logan's beer and your fries. 

Turning in his seat, Logan leaned his arm against the bar - close enough for you to be able to hear him over everything - giving you a grin, amusement in his eyes, "Well, wha' d'ya think?" 

"What do I think?" You asked, resting your own elbow against the bartop, leaning your cheek against your hand, "It’s not too bad. Honestly, it's a bit loud."

Logan chuckled, "All bars are loud, bub." 

You huffed, playfully rolling your eyes, "Well, it's certainly not the worst."

For the next thirty minutes or so, you and Logan talked, about everything and anything as you ate your fries and Logan drank his second beer. It was very enjoyable, really. You were honestly impressed by the bar, its fries were amazing; crisp outside that was sprinkled with cinnamon and paprika; it was interesting, but you liked it. When Charlie came out of the kitchen with a plate full of stacked fries. The sight of all that food made you salivate slightly, your stomach growling in hunger.

As Logan finished off his tall glass of beer, he gained your attention, "I gotta piss, I'll be righ' back."

You felt a slight rush of nervousness but nodded anyway. With a gentle squeeze of your thigh, Logan slid off of the bar stool and over to the far left corner where you supposed the bathroom was located. Turning back to the bar, you picked up a fry from your plate, twisting it between your fingers before plopping it in your mouth. Chewing, you glanced at the many drinks lining a shelf behind the bar. You were quickly growing bored, and you soon found yourself reading the labels of the alcoholic bottles; well, the ones that you could make out.

"What's someone like you doing in a beat-up place like this?" You heard a voice from beside you, where Logan used to be. Huffing, you mentally rolled your eyes. Ignoring the voice, you continued to stare straight ahead, and continued to eat your fries; maybe the guy would just go away, if you were lucky. "Come on, sweet thing, give me your name?" The guy spoke again, this time, much closer to you.

"Not interested." You answered plainly, becoming irritated. 

"Awe, don't be like that!" The guy exclaimed, taking the stool that Logan had occupied. "I just want to get to know you, sweet cheeks."

You didn't even glance at him as you answered with the same tone, "I got a boyfriend."

"A boyfriend?" The man asked, scoffing, seemingly thinking that your answer was ridiculous. "If I was your boyfriend, I'd never leave you all alone in some bar." He tilted his head slightly, his smirk growing, "I don't think I could keep my eyes off you - much less my hands." 

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. How typical. "Look, if you're done being creepy, I’d like you to leave me be - I'd like to eat my fries in peace while I wait for my boyfriend." You were this close to just using part of your mutation to physically make him leave you alone, but you didn’t want to bring much attention to yourself. “And, honestly, I’m doing you a favor. You won’t like whatever happens when he gets back.”

"Hmph," The man hummed, narrowing his eyes playfully - he liked a challenge - "Then why don’t you and I leave now before he gets back?" You then felt pressure on your thigh, making you snap your gaze from in front of you, to your thigh, and finally to the man. "I can show you a good time."

And before you could do anything, you heard his voice, "Hands. Off. Of. Them." And thankfully, at Logan's growl, the man took his hand from off of your thigh; as if you had burned him. 

Letting out a deep breath of relief, you looked up at Logan - who stood tall beside you, his dark eyes almost glowing with anger - his face showing pure fury, and his fists balled at his sides; his claws just threatening to escape his knuckles. 

"I was just fooling around, dude," The guy brought up the courage to speak, reaching out to steal a fry from off of your plate, "Just having some fun." But as he began to pull the fry from your plate, a metal claw suddenly stabbed the fry down, pinning it to the table with a loud ‘thud.’ The man froze, staring at the three claws as they pierced the wooden bartop. He gulped, obvious by his Adam's apple bobbing as he dropped the fry, his fingers only centimeters from the sharp claws. 

You chuckled, narrowing your eyes as you smirked, “I told you.” You taunted as the man slowly looked up at Logan, who continued to glare daggers at him; the man's eyes widened before he quickly stumbled off of the bar stool and ran away. Logan watched him go, slowly retracting his claws back into his knuckles, his blood staining them before they quickly healed. You huffed as Logan continued to watch until the man was out the bar door; your hand coming up to grab his arm. "Lo," You spoke up, gaining his attention, his head turning. You gave him a soft grin, gesturing to the bar stool, "Sit, hon." And he did, taking his seat, you could tell that he was still seething, though, less so than moments before. Taking his hand in yours, you curled his hand back into a fist, shutting your eyes as you pressed a couple of light kisses to his bloody knuckles. Pressing a last kiss to his knuckles, you sighed, opening your eyes; your eyes meeting his brown ones. "Thank you," You whispered quietly. He let out a long sigh, nodding as he looked away, but you reached out with your free hand, cupping his chin, and turning his head to face you. "Want to go home?"

He stared at you, a frown still on his face as he nodded. And so, you and Logan left the bar - leaving a couple of dollars for the drinks and fries - and then some for the slightly damaged bartop. Hopping onto the bike, you held onto the handles, feeling Logan's hands slip around your waist - protectively, his face digging into the side of your neck as you started the bike up. 

Driving down the road, you felt yourself smile as Logan's lips pressed gently against your skin, feeling his beard scratch lightly across your throat as he kissed your skin; instant goosebumps. The chill breeze was welcoming as the bike sped along the slightly bumpy roads, and you were excited to get home and sleep. And you could tell that Logan was tired too; mentally and emotionally. It wasn't until the bike pulled into the X-Mansion garage that you and Logan could finally let out a sigh. 

"Home sweet home," You said, the both of you slipping off of the bike. "I'm exhausted."

Logan only grumbled as the both of you headed into the Mansion. 

You hummed tiredly, looking down at the watch on your wrist, "It's almost seven." You took Logan's hand, interlacing your fingers with his as you walked down the Mansion halls, "Kind of early to be tired, eh, old man?"

You asked the same question from more than a week ago, your smile widened as you saw Logan's tired frown turn into a slight smile, "Yeah, yeah," Logan grumbled, amused, "Let's jus' get ta bed."

You nodded, chuckling, "You don't have to tell me twice."

~~~

Finally, some peace, and quiet; alone with you. With your head on his shoulder, and his arm wrapped around you, Logan finally felt content. Content with just spending a quiet night in with you. No missions, no work parties, no bars - though Logan did have a beer on the coffee table - or waiting for you to get done with teaching. Just the both of you, watching a movie. And it was some fantasy movie that you got the VHS tape for. It was interesting, enough to keep Logan somewhat entertained, but not a lot. He kept finding himself looking at you for most of the movie. 

In fact, he was doing just that. The TV illuminated your face, perfectly highlighting your features. He found himself unable to focus on the movie at hand - he was too focused on you. His eyes followed your every movement - watching every little detail as you shifted. You wore a slight smile on your lips; your hand laying softly on his thigh, rubbing soothing circles onto the material of his jeans. Logan found himself smiling as he watched your actions. His own fingers absentmindedly played with the soft strands of your hair, occasionally scratching your scalp. His chest felt warm - fuzzy. 

But, then Logan noticed something. The expression on your face changed... Changed into one that you only gave him. Logan's eyebrows furrowed, watching as you let out a soft sigh, your eyes glued to the screen. Turning his head, he spotted the reason for your dreamy sigh and love-sick eyes. The man on the screen, dressed in the attire that was appropriate for the type of movie he was in, was dancing gracefully around a crowded ballroom of masked masqueraders. The man was beautiful, Logan had to admit. Beautiful, graceful, and ethereal. 

And you seemed to have thought so too, as you let out another dreamy sigh. 

Turning to look back at you, you glanced up at him, at the screen, and back at him. "What?" You asked, smiling lightly, noticing the odd look on his face.

"You're sighin,'" Logan spoke simply, making you frown slightly and raise an eyebrow.

"I'm sighing?" You asked, blindly grabbing the TV remote and pausing the movie.

Logan tilted his head slightly, raising his own eyebrow as his chocolate eyes stared into yours, "You did the same sigh when you first met me." He recalled, making you huff out a little laugh, incredulously. 

"What are you talking about?" You asked, turning your body slightly towards him.

"Rogue said that ya sighed, just like that, when ya firs' met me." Logan pointed out, teasing lightly - his chest feeling warm in the process. "She said ya were starstruck."

You snorted, "Of course I was starstruck, I mean, look at you! You're gorgeous! You're tall, dark, and handsome!" You explained, pausing for a moment. "And you do have a nice butt." You added, as if it was common knowledge at this point, and it was - you praised his behind often.

Your flattery made Logan grin mischievously, "That's all ya like me fo’? My looks?" He joked, making you lightly slap his thigh in response. 

"Lo, of course not, you know that!" You spoke before becoming a bit serious as you made eye contact - Logan gulped lightly - "When I first met you, aside from your dashingly good looks, Logan, I fell for your character.” You glanced away briefly, the memories filling your mind, “You’re funny, fiercely loyal, passionate, intelligent, and a very strong-willed man." You found yourself rambling, "There's a whole lot more I could say, but it would take hours." You breathed out a small chuckle, running a hand through your hair.

Logan couldn't fight the blush that crept up his cheeks, a smile pulling at the corners of his lips as you spoke; his eyes softening. "I could say the same 'bout you." He spoke honestly - fondly - his voice low and husky; almost speechless.

You hummed, leaning up with the hand on his thigh to press a quick peck to his cheek before turning back to the movie with one last tap to his leg. “I know these past months have been crazy. Work parties and loud bars… But, you don't have to worry. My fictional crush doesn't hold a candle to you."

"Fictional crush?" He muttered, glancing at the TV screen as you unpaused your movie.

 A smirk played on your lips as you turned your attention back on the TV, "I can smell the jealousy rolling off of you, hon,"

"Jealousy? I ain't jealous, bub." Logan shook his head, his arm returning to wrap around you. "Just… Surprised is all."

"Suit yourself."

---

Main Masterlist | X-Men Masterlist

[unriding]

CAN’T WE JUST PRETEND? hayato suo x f!reader ﾉ nsfw ﾉ kinktober day 25 — camgirl + streaming ﾉ 3520 words

you always do what the highest tipper says, but looks like that’s backfired tonight. “bring someone to fuck you raw on your next stream” they said, but oh. you don’t have a boyfriend, do you? so the next best option would be to swallow your pride and ask one of your friends to play the part.

CONTAINS ﾉ explicit smut, camgirl!reader, creampie, dry humping, little plot - smut heavy, multiple orgasms, pet names, streaming + audience, traces of possessiveness (suo), virginity loss (reader), this is a minimally edited old draft but i hope you like it regardless! ^ ^

“You want me to join one of your streams?” Suo tilts his head to the side, gently placing his cup back onto your desk. He swivels around in your chair to face you, and you suddenly feel like a guest in your own room.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” your head hangs low. “So.. you would be the closest person to that, I think.”

“Am I?” His lips tug into a small smile, and it dawns on you that you’ve just outed your inexperience to him. Your face burns a little more, this time spreading to the tips of your ears, but you fight it off with a quick shake of your head. “Well, you don’t necessarily need to have a boyfriend, right? The comment you showed me said it could be anyone.”

You think he might just be poking fun at you the way he always does. Egging you on to make you admit something embarrassing again.

It was already over for you years ago when he learned that you get flustered easily- and he’s never given you a break since. Always leaning in a bit too close for comfort and saying things he knows will come off the wrong way. Flirtatious, even. “I-I know,” you stammer. “But I want it to be someone I’m close to.”

“Why’s that? You’re such a pretty girl. You wouldn’t have trouble finding someone, right?”

He probably just wants to hear you say that you picked him because you like him, you tell yourself, but it’s not like you have any other options.

You fiddle with the hem of your skirt. “Well, I’ve never done it before. So I don’t wanna… lose it.. to a stranger. Literally anyone else would be fine, I think.”

Suo’s eyes widen at your confession. “Oh. You’ve never done it before?”

“No.” You tear your gaze to the side. “I stream stuff, but I’ve never done it with an actual person. Only… by myself. With toys… it shouldn't matter!” You wave your hands back and forth. “I’m good at pretending. They won’t be able to tell it’s my first time, so don’t worry, okay?”

He agrees with a cheerful nod. As if he would ever even dream of passing up a chance like this.

Suo feels awfully at peace with himself when he follows you to your room. It’s exactly the way it looks in your streams, and reality starts to dawn on him. You trust him enough to be your first, and to be your first visitor on your streams? How sweet of you.

Suo’s always been around you, just a breath’s away, but never this close. No one approaches you when you're with him because everyone has already started to assume that the two of you have been dating since long ago, and he was content with that. Being close to you was good enough. For now.

A part of him wonders if this thinking will change after today.

He helps you move some of your things out of frame. You’ve fallen awfully quiet, and he chalks it up to your nervousness kicking in. You’ve always had a habit of getting quiet whenever you were trying to focus and needed to push down your nerves.

“I think we’re ready.”

“Ah.” Suo smiles when he takes a seat beside you.“You’re sure you’re ready?”

You visibly tense when his thigh brushes against your own. Cute.

“M..mhm. It’s gonna start recording in….” you lean over your bed to fiddle with your camera, and his eyes linger over the curve of your back, “ten seconds.”

Nine.

Eight.

His hand comes to pat your head, and you shoot him a glare. He chuckles. Seven.

“Sorry. I couldn’t help myself. You look cute all nervous.”

Six.

“I am not nervous,” you huff, and his smile doesn’t falter. “And don’t tease me when it starts!”

Five.

“We’re supposed to not know each other,” you add, “so you’re supposed to act like you’re just one of my followers.”

Four. Oh, if only you knew. Who do you think sent you this request in the first place?

Three. Two.

He settles a little more comfortably on your bed, and you smile brightly.

One.

“Ah! Hello everyone.” Suo turns to you, and heat rushes to your cheeks almost immediately after. He’s taking the initiative? “The video is working fine, I assume? I’ll be her…” his fingers hook underneath your chin, and you stiffen. “..First guest tonight.”

“Yea…m..mhm!” A sharp inhale through your nose helps you regain your focus. Bubbly and cute- that was how you wanted to be perceived while on stream. “I brought him on to join us today!” You wrap your arms around him, moving behind him to rest your chin on his shoulder. “This was what you all wanted to see, right?”

The comments start flooding in almost immediately. Some seem to like Suo, and some don’t. Others are wishing it was them instead- but that’s to be expected. Suo reads them all with a kind smile, and a part of you is glad that it’s him who was here with you tonight. He seems to be a natural. “Let’s give everybody what they want and make good use of their time. Doesn’t that sound good?”

The hesitant nod you give him is a little out of character for you, but you’re sure no one would be able to notice your sudden shyness. You make a mental note to try and do a better job at hiding your nerves going forward, though it’s a bit challenging when Suo smiles at you like he knows what you’re thinking. His gaze is strong.

It makes you feel shy. Like he’s uncovered some secret of yours that you didn’t even know you had.

Just ignore it. Ignore the hands that guide your hips when you slowly climb onto his lap, making sure your audience gets a good view of your ass when you do. Suo angles himself a bit, runs his hands up and down your sides and it’s pathetic how hard you shiver from such a light touch. “H-hey,” your voice drops to a low whisper, “quit making me all blushy..”

“Am I?” The way he innocently cocks his head to the side is infuriating. “I haven’t done anything, princess. You’re welcome to use me how you wish so you can please your audience.”

“I-I know.”

You hover above him for a moment, and just how pretty your best friend is finally starts to sink in. His hair looks soft. His lips look soft too. Another curious tilt of his head snaps you out of your daze, and you close the distance the next second– lips meeting his own in a sensual kiss. He’s angled you in such a way that your cam doesn’t quite catch the kiss itself. It’s focused on the back of your body, so he takes advantage of that- moves his lips against yours softly and slowly.

He wants to take his time with you. Make the most of this. Your viewers can wait. He would give them what they want later.

All they care about is seeing you get fucked dumb, right? He will.

He’ll take his time ruining you thoroughly– just has to admire every bit of you first. It’s your first time after all.

“You’re so cute,” he smiles between kisses, his exhale trailing into a soft laughter when you visibly tense at the compliment. “Oh? Getting nervous on your own stream? That’s not like you.”

You can only muster a shaky noise of protest. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to bring him on camera after all.

His eyes shift behind you, glancing at the comments, and he suddenly perks up at one in specific. “Oh dear, you already have a request, dove. They want to see you spread in front of them.”

Of all the reactions he had expected from you, the last thing he would have expected is for you to pout at him pulling away. “T-the kiss…” your voice trails off into a huff, and the amused laugh that leaves his lips surprises him too. Oh, how cute. “All you had to do was ask, my dear. Come back here.”

You practically melt into his touch. He kisses you a little more intensely this time. Kisses you with the intention of claiming you as his. You’re moaning into it, and the jitters in your stomach fills you with so much want.

You need him so bad- why does kissing him feel so good?

You’ve never looked at him in this way. Were you always hiding this somewhere in your heart? It feels so natural, feels so good that you’re certain no toy could possibly replicate how good Suo is making you feel with just a kiss. You shut your eyes a little harder when you feel him run his fingers and down your sides again, heartbeat pounding against your chest and you swear it’s making you feel dizzy.

He’s exploring your body. That’s what he’s doing, right? Why does it feel like he already knows your body so well?

His fingers brush over all your sensitive spots. It sends shivers shooting down your spine, and he seems to already know this by the way he smiles against your lips.

You’re on your back before you even realize it. Oh- that’s right. He’s good with his hands from what you’ve heard. He has that unique fighting style… though you’ve never seen it yourself.

Suo’s hands rest on either side of your head, and he looks down at you with that all too knowing smile that heats your face up all over again.

“Spread.”

Your lips tremble from the searing warmth that spreads to your ears. Has.. has he always been like this? You give him a shaky nod- force yourself to stay focused. His gaze feels as if it’s been intensifying with each passing second and it’s flustering you. Suo’s eyes are locked on your body when you shyly spread your thighs apart, leaving your cunt fully exposed for him and your audience to see. “Mmm. Good. And how do you all feel about this?”

He turns to the camera. He’s talking to them- wants their confirmation that you did good. You look at them too, not realizing the shy expression you’re giving them until someone points it out.

User156: she looks soaked

User32: Hurry and touch her

User98: Try and make her wetter

User112: She looks cute today. Like she’s nervous?

“Hmmm..” his eyes scan over the comments. “I can do that. Watch her carefully, okay?”

He moves back on top of you, lowering himself onto his elbows to hover just above you. “Your viewers want to see you get all needy for me,” he whispers against the shell of your ear, and you tense. “So let’s get you nice and soaked for them, okay?”

He lets his lower body rest on yours, and that’s when you feel it press against you. “Ahh.. you feel it?” He whispers into your ear, and your mouth falls open in a shaky moan. “See what you do to me? It’s driving me a little crazy.”

He smiles at the way your lips press into a shaky line. You really didn’t know? Did you not expect him to get hard from kissing you?

He presses into you a little harder, smiling when you gasp. He feels big, doesn’t he? The comments start flooding in as soon as he starts moving his hips against yours, the friction only making you dizzier and needier for him to finally fill you up.

“That feels…. ah… feels….” your arms come to wrap around his back, pulling him a little closer to you. The way his breath fans against your neck only makes you melt into him more. His breath makes you shiver– and oh, he smells so good. His hair is soft when your fingers rake through it. You feel him smile into your neck this time, and it sends a wave of pleasure straight to your cunt.

You want him so bad that it’s pathetic.

He knows how to perfectly grind against you to hit your clit with each roll of his hips. It’s just enough pressure to have your mouth falling open in a moan, but not enough to where you’re jerking. Your reactions are fully under his control- your viewers feel the same too.

User990: Her eyes are rolling back from that

USer4456: Gotta see her take him inside soon.

User12: fuck her dumb already

“Feeling good? I can see that you are… you’re so cute.” He wonders if it would be too mean to mention that you’re pulling him closer to you by wrapping your legs around his waist, but ultimately decides against it. “Want more kisses?”

“Yes!”

That was fast.

He gives you one peck before he’s tilting your head to the side, planting sloppy kisses along your jaw and behind your ear. You’re latched onto him like a koala now, gasping into his chest each time he brushes against your clit. The friction is numbing, and it feels so good that you can’t tell if you’re cumming.

It all feels equally good– pleasure blurring together and it’s almost scary how desperate you’re feeling.

“You’re making quite the mess..” Suo laughs, and your cheeks burn with embarrassment. “You didn’t feel it running down your thighs? It’s everywhere.” Your eyes widen, because you really didn’t feel it. “Too busy thinking about my cock? I’ll put it inside you if the viewers ask me too.”

The viewers. That’s right.

“Please…” the change in your volume makes it clear that you’re speaking to your audience, “please let him fuck me. I need it so bad… I…”

He only smiles at you.

User46: Do it already

User39: She’s gonna cry at this rate

User125: He’s pretty mean, isnt he?

User80: He’s having fun with it, clearly. I like her like this though

You hate how visibly happy you get after reading the first comment. He’ll finally give it to you now that they’ve asked, won’t he? “Hey..” you gesture towards Suo when he grinds against your clit once more, “they said…”

“I know.”

A strong hand comes to keep your hips planted on the mattress when you instinctively push back against him. “There’s no rush,” he smiles, “I just needed to make sure you were ready.”

A light chuckle leaves his lips when he catches your brows furrowing. He’d have to teach you patience another time maybe. If you’ll let him, that is.

“I’m ready,” you latch onto him again, arms wrapped around his neck.

“Are you sure?”

Teasing. That jerk.

“I am. I’m—”

You’re silenced by the gentle way his hand comes to cradle the back of your head against his chest before he finally pushes in. It feels good- how does it feel better than your toys? You’ve never felt like this– it’s numbing. It feels so good that you’re not sure you can handle more. “W-whoa… ah— S-suo-”

“Relax.” His voice makes your walls flutter, and you seem to finally understand just how badly your body has been craving Suo. “Relax and let me inside, okay? I know your body.” Your body heats up, and yourself turn to mush. “I know your limits. Trust me and ease up, okay?”

You try to listen. He pushes the rest of his length inside in one swift movement, and your head falls back in a silent scream– legs trembling and even Suo’s mouth falls open in a subtle gasp. Fuck- you realize you’re cumming, and you’re cumming hard.

User99: Did she just cum?

User106: she came from him bottoming out.. No way

User54: If it was me, she would have cum just from the tip.

The grip you have around Suo’s back is painful to say the least. You’re still fluttering around his length, chest rising up and down in loud gasps. “Now… are you still feeling okay?” His body covers your own entirely when he lays you on your back, resting on both elbows that cage your head on either side. It makes you feel safe, even with an orgasm that was so intense you almost feel scared. You briefly wonder how he’ll make you feel when he finally moves.

“M-mhm… I’m o-okay,” your face feels hot, and the stutter in your own voice betrays you.

“Looks like you’re feeling really good.” He catches on immediately. “Then, I’ll start moving….”

Already? Wait. You’re still sensitive—

User2663: oh wow

User919: this is more like it

User152: Finally at the good part

“Ahh… you’re squeezing really hard, aren’t you? Ease up for me.”

He feels so good that you can barely hear him. Even if you try to ease up— you’re not sure if you can. Not with how good he’s stretching you out. But you try anyway, try and be good for him so he’ll give you kisses all over your face again, and he seems to be content with your efforts. “There you go. Just like that. Relax and trust me.”

You’ve never felt this way towards your best friend. It feels good. Everything about him feels good. Each roll of his hips fills you perfectly— hits against a spot inside you that sends pleasure coursing through your body.

He’s everywhere. Kissing your neck, whispering in your ear— his hands run up and down your sides and you’re so hot you think you might actually be melting. Your second high approaches you faster than ever before, and he smiles against your skin.

“You’re getting close, aren’t you? I can tell. Don’t hide it from me. Let it out. Show me how good you feel.”

You’re getting close. So close. So close that you could already feel it– feel the way your mind blanks and your body tenses. Suo’s all over you- and you can feel each drag of his cock, each kiss he plants on your neck, you can feel the way his lips move when he laughs against your neck–

Your eyes shoot open when it finally hits you like a wave, vision dotting white. You let out a piercing shriek when hot flashes wash over you all at once, walls spasming around his cock and he only seems to fuck you better when he picks up on it. “Oh? Cumming again? What a good girl you are,” his voice carries a hint of breathlessness in it from how tightly you’re squeezing him. “It’s an intense one, isn’t it? Your eyes never roll back like this.”

Even when you feel like you’re about to pass out with pleasure, it clicks in your head. “E-eh? What do you mean..? A-ah…. feels good.. feels..” your head falls back against the pillow, body rocking up and down each time he pushes against you.

“Hm? Nothing you need to worry about, dove,” you feel him follow you, lean down and his teeth brush over your neck. You stifle a moan. “So, my pretty girl…”

“Inside..” he raises his voice to address the viewers, “or somewhere else?”

You choke out a moan when he abruptly grabs your tits, giving them one squeeze. Then two. Then a third one, a little gentler than the first two. “Maybe here?”

“Or…” he takes a fistful of your ass in his hands next, chuckling when you gasp. “Here?”

It sounds like he’s addressing the viewers, but he’s not looking at their responses- eyes on you only. “S-Suo…” your voice is barely audible at this point, body too fucked out and tired to try moving, so you just lay there and take everything he has to offer. “Inside.. please..”

“Oh. Inside? What a good girl,” he’s whispering so low that you’re certain they can’t hear him.

“You knew I was talking to you. Very well,” he sets a rougher pace against you, and you can only cling onto him for dear life. “Then I’ll dump it all inside you.”

“You’ll take all of it, won’t you? You’re such a good girl for me.”

“Mhm– yes, yes, I will! Please give it to me…”

It’s cute how needy you are even in your current state. It only takes a couple more thrusts before his face contorts, only for a second before he regains his composure, and he pushes deep inside, cock shooting ropes of cum against your cervix as you let out a whine.

He pumps you full of cum, fills you to the brim and a part of him is content that he’s claimed you for all of your viewers to watch with jealousy. He’s the only one who’s done this with you.

And he’s intent on keeping it that way.

User278: show us the creampie!!

User9293: we want to see

He gives them a warm smile before abruptly shutting off the stream. Enough of that. He was starting to get tired of their comments anyway. As if he’d be willing to show them such an intimate sight.

“So,” he turns back to you again, expression softening ever so slightly when his eyes land on you again. “Are you going to show me your real expressions now?”

lace dividers from @adornedwithlight