#invisible box challenge

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

...ready for it? - j.l. howlett

a/n: hi! here's a full version of a blurb i wrote a few days ago that got so much love so quick that i wanted to give yall a full version! the beginning is literally just the blurb but after that it's all new! like many of you wolverine brainrot has hit me hard, so here's graphic smut about him. leave a comment or a reblog if you enjoyed :) warnings: SMUT!!!!! some dumbification, use of pet names, reader is fem, reader is a mutant and able to control plants, lots of cursing, lots of grotesque fliritng/fantasies, some soft moments, some sort of primal sex, oral (fem receiving), some of the setting is probs inaccurate but whatever. let me know if i missed any big ones!! word count: 4.9 k summary: well, you had to find some way of entertaining yourself at charles xavier's school for gifted youngsters. and you have always liked an emotionally unavailable, absolutely hung, challenge. pairing: logan howlett x mutant!reader now playing: ...ready for it? - taylor swift "in the middle of the night, in my dreams/you should see the things we do, baby/in the middle of the night in my dreams/i know i'm gonna be with you, so i take my time"

You are absolutely enthralled with him. It’s actually sort of pathetic how your fingers twitch at the sight of him, at how the mention of his name or god forbid the sound of his voice makes your head snap up, attention deficit disorders be damned!

Funnily enough, you had no damn interest in Xavier’s stupid mutant school, because to you, you’re not an outsider because of your mutant abilities (that don’t have much of a physical apparition, at least one that you can’t hide) but because there’s never been much of a place for you to fit in.

But, you were behind on rent and of course, you fucking hate your job, so why not? You’d be able to be slightly less of a freak, and you’d get free room and board in the process! (Where Charles gets all of his money, you do not know.)

And because you’re a little older, Charles doesn’t force you to sit in a class room to learn about basic arithmetic and grammar lessons, so you really only do some training around three times a day, you have your own room (with a dusty box under the other bed, you also suspect your room used to be the ‘sex’ room) and you have the weekends off.

So for a twenty something year old with few ambitions, the social skills of a Martian with autism, and a huge crush on every older emotionally unavailable man you meet, it’s a pretty good set-up.

You’re waiting for time to pass in the garden, just reading a rather interesting book that Charles had recommended after he noticed you needed something to pass time before you started making bad decisions.

You hear his heavy footsteps on the gravel before you see him. Your heart beats faster, but you will yourself, do everything in your power not to glance up at him. And you let out a breath as you succeed, keeping your head down.

“In your natural habitat, are you, spitfire?” Your head darts up to him—There’s no way he isn’t talking to you, you know you’re the only one in this garden. And you can see his lips twitch up and you want to crawl out of your skin!

“My-My natural habitat?” You laugh, closing the book you’re reading because your attention is locked to him now.

“Yeah, seems like it.” He saunters on up to you and sits on the bench next to you.

And let’s make something very clear—

Logan Howlett does not sit.

This man poses, as if there’s always some invisible camera capturing every frame of movement, from the way his legs spread out, to the way his chest lifts when he inhales.

Fuck, you think you might die if you can’t suck him off right now.

“And what exactly is my uh.. habitat?” You question.

He takes out his lighter and a cigar, placing the cigar in his mouth as he gestures to the space around the two of you, lighter in hand.

“A garden.” He says, matter of facility, as his voice is muffled only the slightest bit by the cigar.

And you just sort of look at him before asking,

“Oh, you enjoy being boiled down to your mutations, Claws?” You question, and as he goes to light the cigar, he smirks.

“Alright, you gotta admit though, it is cliché!”

You are absolutely in agreement, there is zero doubt you are as much of a walking, breathing, real life living, stereotype.

“It is not!” And the pair of you give each other this look, like you’re both shocked at how whiney that statement is!

“Uh-huh, sure, Spitfire.” It sounds almost like he’s purring at you.

When he lights his cigar, he’s sort of eying you for your reaction, whatever you might say.

“You know, smoking is not only bad for you, it’s awful for the environment.”

“You’re probably the most cliché little freak around here.” Which.. honestly..? Shouldn’t possibly turn you on as much as it does.

You just stare at him for a minute, and he smirks.

“Cat got your tongue?’

And maybe it’s stupid and maybe it’s immature but your hand just comes over to fiddle with the pointed part of his hair.

“We’ll you certainly look the part.” He just looks at you, and honestly? The way he’s looking at you, it’s like he’s proud of you for teasing him.

“Aw, there’s my little spitfire,” He teases, just to see how red you get. And red you are— it’s embarrassing. And here’s the kicker—You are young. Exceptionally young, and what’s insane about that? How horny it makes both you and Logan.

The idea of fucking your innocent cunt, tight and all his, drives him genuinely mad. And you are, quite literally, a whore for the idea of riding this older man’s dick. You know he’s big—sometimes you see the outerline of it when he walks away from you all huffy and puffy.

“You’re a tease, Claws.” You respond, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Says you,” he raises and eyebrow, leaning closer to you now, “You’re the one laying around in the sun, looking like that.”

“Looking like this?” You scoff. You’re wearing a muscle tee and a pair of ripped jeans, but the gaps are huge and he can see your thighs. He wants to devour you, and you would let him if he only asked.

And let’s be clear—he is fucking you with his eyes. There’s no way to go around it.

“I think you’re just.. horny.” You tease, and he just growls. Seriously, this man who is undressing you with his eyes, growls, because he does want you and he is horny!

“I think you’re onto something.” He purrs, and you want to just.. god. You don’t know how to express the pit of desire that grows in you. “I would fuck you until you couldn’t think, right here among your pretty flowers. Would you like that, baby?” he asks, his hand finding your thigh.

But you just cough on the smoke from his cigar, before frowning.

“You really shouldn’t smoke.”

“Aw, I’ll make it up to you.” He smirked. “Promise, spitfire.”

He’s very close to you now, so you take a second to just breath and you know that he knows that he’s got you—hook, line, and sweet, sweet sinker.

And then you realize what exactly it is that you’ve gotten yourself into. And what a nightmare it is—Or maybe a dream if you listen to the pathetic part of your brain, but you are into this an in a way that is concerning for your own mental wellbeing and desperately want to avoid him having all the power in this situation.

“Oh, I am sure you will.” You assure. You lean forward, plucking the cigar from his lips, and placing it on the ground, squashing it beneath your heel. With a flick of your wrist, vines and grass grow over the cigar, composting it. And from the vines, grows a small little buttercup flower.

You lean down and pluck the flower from the grass, before tucking it behind Logan’s ear.

“You should take care of that hard-on you have, Claws.” You hum, before standing up, and walking away. And for a minute, he just watches you go—partly to because you have an amazing ass, but partly because you have absolutely flabbergasted him.

And have made him want you even more.

• • •

The next time you see him is the next night, in the woods near the mansion. Because the literal sixteen year olds you go to ‘school’ with do not know how to do anything on the weekend except drink, fuck, and smoke.

Honestly, you kind of fit in great.

So here you are, nursing a mason jar of.. some fucked up concoction, and you’re not too sure what’s in it, but you have drunk two of them and are on your third. You think you might live forever, until you glance up and see Logan, in these fuck me jeans and this burnt orange flannel and a wife beater.

Instantly, you know that you’ll die tonight if you don’t have him.

He approaches you with this cocky smirk as if he hasn’t realized your intoxicated state yet.

“Now what’s a little spitfire like you doing all alone on a Friday night?” he questions, tilting his head. His smirk is deadly. And you roll your eyes.

“Here comes the big bad Wolverine, all bark and no bite.” You scoff, and his eyes flash with surprise. Only for a second, but even drunk, you notice the way his eyes shoot up in surprise.

“All bark and no bite? That’s quite the accusation.” He hums.

“Well, we’ve been.. eye fucking each other for a few weeks now, and you haven’t even kissed me yet. I get being into foreplay and edging, but holy shit, Claws, throw a girl a bone once in a while.” You scoff, and for a moment, he just looks at you.

“Are you.. drunk?”

“Do you think I’m drunk?”

“Yeah, you’re drunk.” He sighs. You respond by taking another sip of your drink, but before the bitter liquor hits your tongue, he snatches the bottle from you.

“Let me take you home.” You’re sure your eyes look like hearts, so, dreamily and a little love struck, you respond,

“’Kay.”

And he chuckles a little bit at that.

“We’re not gonna do anything, I’m just gonna walk you home, spitfire.” He starts, and your face falls a little bit, but in an effort to hide it, you respond,

“..’kay.” And he sees right through you. You’re pretty much an open book. And the alcohol doesn’t help. His pointer finger and thumb comes to your chin, and he gently rubs his thumb against your lip.

“Don’t be like that, pup. It’ll happen soon. Just not tonight, okay?” He assures.

“’Kay.” You answer softly, and you think he smiles at you but your vision is sort of blurry. Then, you blink, as a gust of wind moves through the trees, sending a shiver down your spine. He sighs, and wordlessly takes off his flannel, before wrapping it around you. Your arms slip into the sleeves, and you almost cry because it’s like, the best hug in the entire world. “Won’t.. you be cold, then?” you question, and he just shakes his head.

“Let’s get you home, spitfire.” He holds a handout to you, and without a second thought, you take his hand. He wraps his arm around you, and you lean against him like it’s something the two of you do often. If you were sober, you might short circuit. But, you’re not, so it feels right.

The walk home is quiet, but Logan’s thumb gently rubs against your shoulder. He wants to do more, but he knows he shouldn’t, since you are in fact plastered.

You ignore the giggles and whispers from teenagers making their way past you to the party or to their rooms, and you even ignore the way their giggles stop when they meet Logan’s gaze.

When you get back to your room, you take a second to lean against the door, and he takes a second to admire the way you look in his clothes.

“Ready for bed?” he asks gently, and you just smile at him.

“You’re really pretty.” He just does the half scoff-half chuckle that you’re obsessed with. Then, he wraps his arm around you again, opening the door to your room, and guiding you inside. He gets you to your bed and sits you down, before kneeling in front of you to untie your boots. “Has anyone ever told you how good you look on your knees?” you ask.

He just gives you this smirk.

“One or two pretty girls back in the day.” He says, “None as pretty as you though, spitfire.” He says, and you groan, leaning back and laying on the bed, as he pulls off your boots.

“You’re awful.” And you need him.

“Yes, I know, baby.” His voice is almost condescending, and it turns you on. But then he stands up, grabbing the folded blanket from the edge of your bed, and laying it over you. He finds his place kneeling next to you again as you stare at him, cozy in bed. His hands gently brush hair from your face. “Do you need anything else?”

“You.”

“Soon. But not yet, pup. You’re too drunk.” He says softly.

“Thanks for walking me home, Claws.”

“You’re very welcome, Spitfire.” He purrs, leaning forward and kissing your forehead gently. “I’ll see you in the morning. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Logan.” You mumble as you drift off to sleep. He sits there for a few minutes, just looking at you for a long time before he gets up and creeps out of your room.

• • •

The next morning, you sit in the cafeteria, drinking a large coffee, and nursing the worst hangover, possibly of your life. Made even worse by the fractions of memories about what happened last night.

You rub your eyes, flinching when you hear the clatter of a plate on the table, and someone sitting across from you. You peek through the gaps of your fingers to see Logan sitting across from you, a smirk on his face.

He opens his mouth to say something but you beat him to it.

“I hate you. Shut up.”

“I didn’t even say anything!” he laughs. But he sees how much pain you’re in, and slides two pieces of sourdough toast to you. “Truce?”

“Truce.” You agree, taking a slice and biting into it. You feel better.

And after a moment of silence, he asks,

“I’m never getting my flannel back, am I?”

Truthfully, the flannel has been folded neatly and tucked into your drawer, for the next time you need some comfort.

You tilt your head, looking right into his eyes.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

• • •

Weeks go by like this.

You spend your days either going to class or hanging out—okay, it’s more like flirting with a side of hanging out, with Logan. The pair of you become quite close, and maybe that’s why you haven’t fucked yet.

Oh, the two of you want to, and it’s obvious to everyone (Charles has called you out for being distracted more times than you can count, and you remind him not to probe your mind, and he tells you he does not need his mutant abilities to see that your thoughts linger elsewhere.) but you’re.. afraid, at this point.

Which is odd, because you’re no virgin, you know he wants you, but.. what if everything changes after that? Maybe he’ll start to avoid you. Maybe you’ll start to avoid him. And you’ve really become good friends, and don’t want to lose it.

And then, there’s the fact that half the time, he’s away on dangerous missions, and even if he can regenerate, you worry about him. But he hasn’t been on any lately, so it’s like waiting for the other shoe to drop.

You’re sitting in the garden when it happens.

He finds you, and this time, you do not even try to hide the way your head picks up and gazes at him.

“Hi, Spitfire.” He grins, and you smile a bit at him.

“Claws, what can I do for you?” And he sits next to you, and for some reason, maybe because he doesn’t say anything at first, you know that there is something wrong. And you know what it is.

After a few minutes, you glance to him.

“You’re leaving, aren’t you?” Your voice is quiet, as if you’re scared that if it gets any louder, everything will fall apart.

“Yeah. Charles has me going on another mission.” He doesn’t say it, but you both know this isn’t an involuntary thing.

“Cool.” You cringe at your reaction.

“I guess.” He laughs weakly, as if he knows he’s twisting a knife buried within you.

Silence fills the air. It’s not necessarily uncomfortable, but it isn’t the relaxed silence you’re used to with him. Confessions dance on the tips of your tongues, and you’re so close to saying it, that when you turn to each other suddenly, you just need to look at each other for a second.

“Be safe.” You say quietly. “And hurry back.” You request, and you try not to sound like you’re begging.

“Of course.” He says, like it perplexes him that you even have to request. “I can’t leave you here yearning for me forever, can I?” He teases, and for a moment, you have this flash of an alternate universe where he does die on this mission and you are trapped in this garden forever, waiting for him. Like a lost puppy, or worse, a lost lover. The mere thought of it fucks with your head.

“No. You can’t. I won’t allow it.” You explain, “If anything, I’m the one that should be haunting you.” He just smiles. A real, not at all awkward smile.

“I’m sure you will, spitfire.” He says, and his head comes forward so that his forehead is resting against yours.

“When do you leave?” You ask gently, and he sighs. His breath smells of mint and cigar smoke, maybe even a hint of lemon.

“An hour. I have to pack quick and then debrief.” He answers you.

And just as love struck as you were the night of the party, you answer,

“’Kay.” You smile weakly at him. And he just.. looks at you for a few minutes before sighing again. He pulls away and leans up to kiss your forehead again, before standing up. He turns a few steps away from you just to tease you.

“Don’t miss me too much, okay?” he requests softly. Before you can stop yourself, you stand up, and wrap your arms around him. He only pauses for a half a second before he returns your embrace, and it becomes apparent that you both needed this moment. You stay like this for a few minutes before you pull away.

“Bring me back a souvenir.” You try, a soft smile on your face.

“Yeah, don’t worry. I’ll bring you something great from the great city of Tulsa, Ohklahoma.” He grins.

“Deal.”

“Deal.”

• • •

For the next week, you feel like this must be what it was like for housewives when their husbands went to war. You knew all too well that that statement was extremely dramatic, but you simply cannot help yourself.

You think you might die by day three.

It’s like you’re going through withdrawals and it’s making you go genuinely insane.

You have worn this man’s flannel for almost the entire week, because at first you’re a little self-conscious of other people noticing your repeating outfits, but only at first. By day four, you have decided you don’t give a single fuck.

Day eight you’re just laying in bed, quietly making a list of all the positions you want him to take you in. It’s a long list. You’re brought back to reality by a knock on your door. You’re about to snap, knowing that you’ll tell whatever child has been sent to bother you to scram, but when you open the door, you grin widely.

Logan stands there, looking tired, but he’s smiling and holding up a shot glass that reads ‘Tusla’, and has skyline on it.

“Didn’t I tell you I’d get you a souvenir?” He asks, and you can’t help but wrap your arms around him, pulling him in. He hugs you back, making sure to squeeze you just a bit—your feet barely come off the ground.

He pulls away, and you grin up to him.

“You came back.” You say it as if you can barely believe it, and just for a moment, he feels an emotion he can’t quite place, but he ignores it.

“Of course I came back, spitfire. All in one piece too, as requested.” He grins, and you’re just.. amazed at the look of him. “What’s that look for?” He asks gently, tilting his head.

“I just..” you start.

And then you break.

You lean up and kiss him gently, those stupidly delicious sideburns making your stomach flip. He doesn’t waste time, kissing you back, his arms around your waist. After a minute, you pull away.

“Sorry. I’m kind of done playing that game of waiting for you to kiss me. I just got the first hit of you I’ve had all week, and I feel fucking amazing.” You confess, and sure, it’s not a big grand love confession with tears and poetry, but your words make him kiss you so intensely that you start backing into your room, his hands exploring your body as you tug off his leather jacket, a new flannel for you to steal coming off soon after.

He keeps kissing you as his hands come down to your jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them, before gently pushing you to sit on the bed. He kneels in front of you, and begins to tug off your boots again, then, on your jeans.

You grin.

“You know, I’m getting the oddest sense of déjà vu. Something about you looking great on your knees.” You tease, and he just tugs off your jeans in one strong swoop, before leaning in to bite your thigh. You gasp, your hands coming up to tug his hair.

Then, he begins to tug at your panties, and you tilt his head up, glancing at him.

“What are you doing?”

“Well, before I was interrupted, I was about to eat you out.”

“Wait, really?”

He blinks, confused.

“Yeah. Is that a, uh.. problem..?” He hasn’t gotten any complaints yet.

“I just.. I didn’t think guys actually did that, I thought it was just.. a porno thing.” And at this, the man who is about to burry his face between your thighs, laughs. And not just a chuckle, this man hollars. “What’s so funny, claws?” You ask, a little suspicious.

“Nothing,” he promises, “I am just going to take such good care of you, pup.”

“I’m holding you to that, claws.” And then, he leans in and begins to kiss your thighs, gently biting down here and there. Then, he licks a stripe along your cunt, and you let out this loud moan, and your hand comes up to clamp over your mouth, but he reaches up to grab your hand, lacing his fingers with yours.

He pulls away to lecture you. Lecture you. On his knees. Head between your thighs.

“Nuh-uh, I wanna hear all the pretty noises you can make for me.” Then, softer, he adds, “Never been eaten out before, fuckin’ travesty.” He mumbles, before leaning in to lick your cunt again, beginning to lap his tongue over your throbbing heat.

His nose rubs against your clit, and it’s enough to drive you genuinely crazy. You’re unsure how you’ve gotten to this point in your life without having your pussy worshipped like this, but with him around, you’re pretty sure you’ll never go another day without it.

His tongue continues to work magic on your cunt, as his nose presses against your clit, stimulating you to the point of making you see stars.

Your hands tug at his hair, and the moan that it elicits from him is enough to send vibrations through your cunt through your stomach. Your head leans back as you moan, and for a moment, you hope there is no mutant in this mansion with super hearing.

His free hand grips your thigh as he bends your leg back to get better access, as he continues to eat you out. The mere taste of you is enough to drive him crazy—He almost wants to start thrusting into the side of your bed, he’s so hard, but he ignores that urge to continue to eat you out.

“Mm—Lo, I—I’m gonna—”

He just hums into your cunt, giving your thigh a gentle squeeze of approval, before his tongue moves even faster (if that’s even possible, though, he is an amazingly surprising man), and suddenly—

You feel a release you have been waiting for weeks, and it is fucking phenomenal. And the Wolverine just licks up all your cum, even if it makes your thighs shake, but honestly, he doesn’t care and neither do you. For a moment, you just listen to the sound of your own pants.

After a minute, you are able to look at him, and he just looks up to you with the same smirk that has been torturing you for all of those weeks. And you just have to pull him up to kiss you, like it’s the only way you’ll be able to live.

As you kiss him, you pull off his wifebeater and then your hands rest on the sides of his face as he pulls off your shirt as well, before his hands begin to make quick work of his belt, wanting to skip all of the pleasantries and just fuck you.

But when he finally gets his jeans off, you pull away, and he stares at you like you’re crazy.

“What the fuck could possibly be more important than me fucking you stupid?”

“Will you just.. let me look at you?” You scoff, your eyes flickering over him to just memorize every square inch of his body. He humors you for a few minutes, standing there with his hands on hips before he leans in and cages you in with his arms.

“Show’s over, spitfire.” He purrs, leaning in to kiss you, slowly making his way closer to you so that you’re laying back on your bed. At some point during the kiss, his boxers come off, and when you feel his cock against your cunt, you moan into the kiss, and you can feel his smirk against your lips.

Oh, you could kill him. But, you suspect maybe he’ll get to you first.

After he kisses you for a few minutes, he pulls away to tell—not ask, tell you, “I’m going to fuck you now.” And you know your line.

“’Kay.” He grins at this and kisses you again, before lining himself up and starting slowly. He just has the tip inside of you, and you begin to moan, your grip on his shoulders tightening. You already feel entirely too full, and he slowly agonizingly slowly pushes into you, and he sees how his size makes your face twitch,

“Shh, shh, I know, pup. Deep breathes for me, bub,” he says softly, such a stark contract to his rough movements, as he bottoms out and has his entire cock inside of you. And he gives you a second, watching as your face relaces, adjusting to the size of him. “Okay?” He asks, and you nod.

“’Kay,” You assure, and he kisses your forehead.

“’Kay.” He responds, and before you can tease him for it, he begins to thrust into you, slowly as first, but he continues to quicken his pace. Your nails begin to scratch on his back, and he lets out this angelic moan—You must’ve died and went to heaven.

As his thrusts quicken, the lines quickly blur between quick ruts and an animalistic need, manifesting itself in the way he fucks you. You know you won’t last long, especially when his fingers find your clit and begin to rub it again.

“Fuck! Oh my god—”

“I know, baby, I know,” he coos, his free hand coming to your thigh to lift your leg up, only for better access to your throbbing cunt, “God, I love the feeling of you around me.. Worth the wait, I promise.” He grumbles, as he thrusts into you, his only goal to make you cum.

You want to respond to that—To tease him, to make him feel as shy as you do, but he has completed his goal of fucking you stupid.

All you can do is respond, “Fuck—I’m gonna—”

“I know, baby, go ahead, cum for me,” he requests softly, leaning in to press a rather jarringly sweet kiss to your lips.

As you cum around his cock, he shudders, the look of you, laying there fucked dumb, is almost too much for him to bear.

“I’m gonna fill you up, pup,” he tells you, and all you can do is moan in response, which makes him come that much closer to the edge. After a few more thrusts, with a euphoric moan that will haunt you forever, his hot cum fills you up, leaving the pair of you clawing at each other, wanting more.

When you’re both finally finished riding out your high, Logan lays next to you, keeping you close. His grip on you is tight—possessive. When you finally find your voice, you ask,

“You’re not gonna turn me into a booty call, are you, claws?”

And he laughs.

“No,” he says, pressing a kiss to your head. “You’re gonna be my best girl, Spitfire.”

“Does this mean I get to steal another of your flannels?”

“I’ll give you my whole fucking wardrobe to see how many times I can make you cum.”

[xtra7s]

𝗦𝗢𝗠𝗘𝗧𝗛𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗦𝗣𝗘𝗖𝗜𝗔𝗟 (𝗪𝗟𝗪) ──── 𝘙𝘦𝘯𝘦𝘦 𝘙𝘢𝘱𝘱 𝘹 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

Synopsis: Renee and Y/N got casted as lovers in a new show

Content: Renee Rapp x Fem!Reader, G!P!Renee, penatration sex, alcohol

Word Count: 1.5k

masterlist | part 2

In the bustling city of Los Angeles, two talented individuals were about to embark on a thrilling journey that would forever change their lives. Renee Rapp, a celebrated popstar and actor, was known for her enchanting performances that captivated audiences worldwide. Y/N, a rising starlet, had recently made a name for herself with her remarkable acting skills.

Fate had brought them together unexpectedly as they were cast as co-stars in a groundbreaking lesbian show, “Unveiling Hearts.” The series aimed to celebrate diverse love stories and break barriers, resonating deeply with a very gay fanbase.

From the moment they met during the first script reading, sparks flew between Renee and Y/N. However, their connection wasn’t just limited to their on-screen chemistry. They both sensed an undeniable tension that lingered beneath the surface, threatening to unravel even the most composed of scenes.

As the filming progressed, the tension between the two actresses grew more palpable. Their characters’ love story mirrored the intensity of their own hidden desires, making it increasingly challenging to distinguish fiction from reality. The lines between acting and genuine emotions began to blur.

One evening, after a particularly intense scene, Renee invited Y/N to her trailer to practice a moment they were about to film the next day. The air was thick with unspoken desires as they found themselves slightly drunk on boxed wine, alone in the intimate space. The trailer’s dim lighting and the sound of raindrops against the windows added to the charged atmosphere.

The soft hum of distant music filled the air as they settled onto a plush couch, both feeling a subtle excitement hanging in the atmosphere.

The two had been practicing for quite some time, deciding to chill out for a bit. However, there was an unspoken tension lingering between them. A connection that had subtly shifted, leaving a delicate anticipation in its wake.

As they sat side by side, Renee couldn't help but steal glances at Y/N. The gentle flicker of the candles played on Y/N's face, casting a soft glow that highlighted their features. Renee's heart raced as she felt a magnetic pull towards Y/N, a longing that had been building over time.

Y/N, sensing the shift in the air, turned to meet Renee's gaze. Their eyes locked, and in that moment, it felt as if the world around them had faded away. The conversation paused, replaced by a silent understanding that something was about to change.

Renee's hand found its way to Y/N's, fingers intertwining as they shared a shy smile. The touch sent a wave of warmth through both of them, breaking down the barriers that had kept their feelings hidden.

The room seemed to shrink as they inched closer, drawn by an invisible force. Renee's hot breathe lingering on Y/Ns lips, creating a delicate dance of shared anticipation. It was a moment suspended in time, filled with the unspoken promise of something beautiful.

And then, with a soft and genuine tenderness, their lips met. It was a gentle kiss, filled with the unspoken emotions that had lingered between them for so long. Time seemed to stand still as they explored the sweetness of that shared connection.

In that moment, the world outside ceased to exist, and their inhibitions melted away. Their bodies moved in sync, fueled by a passion that had long been suppressed.

The initial kiss ignited a spark between Renee and Y/N, and as they pulled away, there was a shared, unspoken agreement that they both wanted more. The atmosphere in the room shifted, charged with a newfound intensity that neither of them could ignore.

Without breaking eye contact, Renee cupped Y/N's face with a gentle touch, her thumb tracing soft circles on Y/N's cheek. Y/N reciprocated by running their fingers through Renee's hair, a silent encouragement that spoke volumes. The air was filled with a mix of anticipation and desire as they closed the gap between them once again.

Their second kiss was more rough, a testament to the emotions that had been building up between them. Lips moved in sync, exploring the uncharted territory of each other's mouths. It was a dance of passion and vulnerability, a language only they understood.

Renee's heart raced, feeling the warmth of Y/N's body pressed against hers. The couch beneath them became a haven, a place where time seemed to slow down as they lost themselves in the shared rhythm of their kisses. The soft sounds of their breaths, the gentle sighs, and the occasional quiet giggle filled the room.

As the intensity of their embrace deepened, Renee's hands traced the contours of Y/N's back, leaving a trail of tingling sensations. Y/N, in turn, explored the landscape of Renee's shoulders, fingers dancing delicately along her skin. Every touch communicated a depth of connection that went beyond mere physicality.

The world outside seemed to fade away as they continued their intimate exchange, wrapped up in the blissful cocoon of their shared affection. Time became irrelevant as they surrendered to the magnetic pull drawing them closer.

Y/N's hand rested on top of Renee's thigh, squeezing gently before slowly sliding upward towards her inner thigh. Their fingers traced delicate circles around the hem of her shorts, teasingly brushing against her sensitive skin. Renee bit her lower lip nervously, squirming slightly in anticipation of what was coming next.

"Are you sure about this?" she whispered out, her voice trembling with uncertainty mixed with excitement. Y/N nodded reassuringly, their thumb rubbing circles on the exposed flesh above her knee.

"I wouldn't be here if I wasn't," Y/N replied confidently, her eyes locked onto hers. Their lips crashed together hungrily, tongues dancing wildly in each other's mouths as they became more bold in their movements. Their hands roamed freely over each other's bodies, exploring every curve and dip until finally, Y/N reached beneath Renee's shirt and pushed it upwards, exposing her boobs to the cool air.

Renee gasped softly as Y/N cupped one breast in her palm, massaging it gently while sucking on her neck and chest. Her nipples hardened instantly under the attention, standing erect and begging for more stimulation. Y/N's fingers fumbled with the clasp holding her bra in place, finally freeing both breasts from their confines. They began to knead and tweak them roughly, causing Renee to arch her back into the touch.

"Oh fuck, Y/N" she moaned, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Renee's hands found their way beneath Y/N's tank top, running upwards along their torso until reaching her navel. She circled it slowly at first, savoring the sensation of skin on skin before working her way upwards to cup Y/N's breasts as well.

Their bodies continued to move together rhythmically, their hips grinding against each other in sync with their passionate kisses. Y/N's hand reached down between them, her hand leading between Renee's thigh. With a grin against Renee's lips, She pushed her hand under Renee's shorts, gasping into Renee's mouth when she feels her hard cock and the precum covering the tip.

"Is this all for me, pretty?"

Y/N worked off Renee's shorts and boxers, taking off the rest of her clothes after Renee. Between Renee's legs, Her erect member rubbing against Y/Ns thigh as she sits on Renee's lap. "Tell me you want this too," Renee panted, her breath hot against her ear lobe.

"Please, Renee" Y/N managed to choke out as she kisses Y/N, her voice hoarse with desire. Renee kissed Y/N passionately, "Tell me if you want to stop" She whispers, before slowly pushing inside Y/N, sinking inside of her and stretching her out to fit her cock. Y/N moaned out in both pain and pleasure as Renee continued to move deeper inside her, filling every inch of her up.

Once fully inside, Renee began to thrust her hips rhythmically, hitting all the right spots within Y/N's body. Their hips rocked in unison, generating a wet slapping sound that reverberated throughout the room. Their bodies were now covered in sweat, evidence of their intense fucking.

Y/N gripped onto Renee's shoulders tightly, her nails digging into their skin as she struggled to find a stable place to put her hands amidst the waves of ecstasy coursing through her body. Her moans turned into high-pitched whimpers as orgasm after orgasm washed over her, leaving Y/N's body shaking uncontrollably.

Renee, also feeling her own climax rapidly approaching, picked up the pace, thrusting faster and harder than before. Their breathing became more labored, their bodies slapping against each other in sync with each powerful thrust.

Y/N leaned up, kissing Renee sloppily as she pounds into her, "I'm close... I'm cumming..." Renee moaned, her voice hoarse with desire. At the same time, Y/N yelled out her own release, her juices coating both of them liberally. Renee pulled out, cumming on Y/N's thigh as they continued to move together until their orgasms subsided, panting heavily as they came down from their shared high.

Finally, they collapsed on top of each other, their bodies entwined in a mess of sweat and fluids. "you're something special," Renee smiled, leaning up as she left soft kisses on Y/N's neck, smiling up at her as they held each other.

[thef1diary]

after the visit of the paranormal investigators max was even more cheeky. he wanted you to figure out a way so he can directly communicate with you so he was behaving like a cat, knocking over your water bottle, stealing your hair ties from the night stand and scratching on the door when it was closed. he wanted your attention and to talk to you, properly. to finally whisper all the sweet nothings when you're busy working or trying to get chores done...😵‍💫

🩵

— oh he’d make you feel as though he’s everywhere, always touching you, always reminding you of his presence. After he got a taste of communicating with you, he wants more. 18+ content below

It started after the investigators left—Max had become relentless. At first, it was playful: your water bottle tipping off the counter just as you reached for it, your hair ties mysteriously disappearing from the nightstand. He messed with you and most of the time you chuckled, trying to tell him off. But then, he had also turned up the dial on the filthier antics—constantly touching you.

The warm press of phantom fingers trailed across your inner thighs when you sat at your desk to work. Ghostly hands slid beneath your shirt while you tried to complete mundane daily tasks. Washing dishes became a challenge when you’d feel his touch slither between your legs, stroking over your bare cunt just to watch you squirm.

He didn’t let up when you tried to ignore him, either. Every time you clenched your thighs together, his touch grew firmer, hungrier.

Even during the night, he didn’t hold back. You jolted awake to the sensation of your blanket being peeled away, the cool air kissing your skin. His hands skimming up your legs as you felt his presence curling around you.

You gasped, clawing at the sheets as his invisible grip spread your thighs wide. He wasn’t gentle anymore; his touch was demanding, confident, and dripping with intent. His hands roamed over your body like he owned it, teasing every curve, every sensitive spot. When his fingers circled your nipple, pinching just enough to make your breath hitch, you swore if you strained your hearing, you could hear a low, guttural groan echo in the silence of your bedroom.

It was as though Max was everywhere, teasing you, urging you to acknowledge him.

You could feel his frustration building, the way he pressed against you, almost begging to be heard. You wanted it, too. God, you wanted it so badly—his voice murmuring dirty promises into your ear, telling you exactly what he’d do instead of simply touching you.

One afternoon, as you braced yourself against the kitchen counter, your breath hitching from the sensation of his hands sliding under your waistband, you knew you couldn’t take it anymore. Max wasn’t going to stop until you found another way to communicate with him.

Panting, you pushed yourself up, your knees weak as you muttered air, hoping he was listening. “Alright, fine, Max. You win.” You’d find a way to let him talk to you—really talk to you. If that meant buying a spirit box or some other ridiculous gadget, so be it.

And you’d do it immediately, because the next time his hands slipped between your legs, teasing you to the brink, you wanted to hear every filthy thing he’d whisper while you came undone.

want more ghost!max? send me an ask with your filthiest thoughts and it’ll get answered during one of my dirty drabble days

[click4rainy]

Wade Wilson Boyfriend HeadCanons

👽:slowly but surely getting back into my writing 💅🏼 (not proof read just super horny like a clown 🤡 HONKAH HONKAH)

SFW ��️

★ Wade is a silly guy. So silly in fact, he’ll crack jokes or shoot a sarcastic comment your way—mid argument. “How am I supposed to listen when you look this good right now?” Fear not! Because he knows when to shut up. (When you tell him to)

★ Bro defo has a Roblox account. Not elaborating.

★ Despite his chaotic and reckless behavior, Wade is actually super protective and would go to extreme lengths to keep you safe. And then some. “Hey! Back off! Don’t you fuck with her! Unless you wanna fuck with me too. In that case we’ll need a sit down discussion for—“ “WADE!” “Right—sorry.”

★ Expect big, wild romantic gestures. Like standing outside your window while holding up a boom box. (playing ‘what you won’t do for love’ by Bobby Caldwell) or (attempting at) writing your name with fireworks. (There were definitely ‘unexpected’ explosions)

★ “I know it’s only Tuesday, but I totally, legally rented a helicopter so we can pretend we’re in the aveng—no? Okay…plan B then: Breakfast in bed with (penis) questionable pancakes.”

★ Cuddle bug Wade. Are we surprised? This man lives off of physical touch and affection. Wrapping you up in his arms, not letting you go with a shit eating grin. “Nope, you’re not leaving this couch. We’re practicing the ancient art of Wade Wrapping, which requires at least three hours of cuddles, just sayin.”

★ He is nonstop teasing you. It’s a hobby for him, really. (And his love language) Coming up with silly nicknames for you, challenging you to random games or chores, he’s not below making fun of himself to see you smile either.

★ “Oh-ho? You think you can wipe the track with me in Mario kart? That’s cute.” “Honey—you look fine. Approachable even. Unlike me…” (he says while laying limbless on the bed. Literally….)

★ Uses his dark humor to comfort you in times of ‘what the actual fuck?’ Knowing how to turn even the bleakest of moments into something a little lighter. “Hey, I know life might suck granny tits right now…but at least we’re not in a rom-com where one of us has to die or something worse for the other to grow emotionally, right?”

★ Unwaveringly supportive of you in any conflict. He is going to take your side. Every. Single. Time. Backing you up even if he has literally no idea what’s going on or why. “You said Rick was out of line at work today? Well guess who’s getting a strongly worded letter in the form of interpretive dance in the parking lot?” “Is it Ri—“ “it’s Rick.”

★ Wade loves experimenting in the kitchen with you! Attempting to make meals that sometimes end up in hilarious disasters, followed up by a take out order.

★ He breaks this…’fourth wall’ sometimes. Like looking off into the distance and talking to an invisible audience or camera while addressing you. This dead ass bewilders you at times. But mostly you roll your eyes at his antics.

★ “Can you believe this shit?” He’ll ask, turning to an imaginary audience. “I’m over here being the perfect boyfriend—funny, handsome, protective, all that—and you guys still think Peter Parker is the ‘Ideal Boyfriend’ pffft. Get real.” *turns back to you* “anyway, where were we?”

★ This overgrown man child is a PDA enthusiast. Unashamed of hugging, kissing, or trying to dip you during a playful dance in public. He doesn’t care, he’s proud to be with you and wants everyone to know it. “You know what this sidewalk needs? A spontaneous make out session”

★ One hundred percent would insist on wearing matching or theme outfits. Whether it’s full on costumes or something little like matching socks. “Ta-Da! Matching Taco Cat shirts—no, no. Don’t fight it. This is how we show the world we’re a team. Through peak fashion choices.”

★ Loves movie nights. They’re full of commentary, with your boyfriend narrating or making fun of the movie plots. He’d insist on watching rom-coms or action movies for sure.

★ You’ll receive unconventional love letters in the form of doodles, short jokes, or notes saying “I love you more than The Golden Girls. And that’s saying something. ;)”

★ Wade is a pretty chill dude. He’s not overboard with jealousy. But that won’t stop the man from making his classic (not so jokey) jokes when he feels like someone might be getting too close to you. “Oh, flirting? With you? Cute. Should I go over there and casually mention that I’m the love of your life and also really good with sharp objects?”

★ Beneath all the jokes and chaos, he has moments of genuine, heartfelt affection. Whispering his love and gratitude for you at unexpected times. “I know I never take shit for real. But I’m serious about you, about us. You’re my safe space, the one part of my life that makes sense on this stupid chunk of rock floating in space.”

★ Remembers odd little details about you. Showing it with unexpected gifts that align perfectly with your interests. (Even if they’re a bit off beat.) “I saw this super limited edition action figure of (favorite character). I had to get it for you—don’t ask me how, just say thank you and let’s run—“

★ Randomly belting out terrible renditions of love songs at the top of his lungs, just to get a laugh from you.

★ Acts tough for your amusement, like he’ll pretend to be all macho around your friends to make you laugh. “Yeah babe, I’m like, indestructible. Just gotta…” *struggles to open a jar of pickles* “wait—hold on. This jar is definitely cheating…”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

NSFW 🍆💦

★ Wade love love LOVESSS making you watch while playing with your pussy. Using his mouth, fingers and all kinds of cute little toys.

★ Tying your hands together, behind your back and sitting you in front of the mirror with your legs spread wide as he slowly circles your clit with a bullet vibrator, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. “You see how fucking wet you are for me, baby?” “Look. At. This~” “did I say to look away? Didn’t think so…”

★ He’s into all kinds of crazy shit—high key an exhibitionist.

★ Fucking you in a theatre bathroom, pressing you up against the stall while he covers your mouth, dipping the head of his cock teasingly into your aching cunt.

★ “I don’t give one shit if someone hears us, I need you. Now.” “Shhh baby, gotta stay quiet if you wanna cum.” “Stay still now…”

★ Eating you out in the back of the car, hands kneading your plush thighs while looking up at you with that knowing, shit-eating grin. Not even bothering to wipe you from his chin.

★ Struggling to keep your eyes on the man, a red flush taking over your face as the vibrations of his groans send shocks of pleasure through your entire body.

★ Fingering you under the table/using a remote control vibrator on you when you’re out having dinner. “Yeah that’s it for me and uh, what about you babe?” He asks nonchalantly, as if he weren’t bumping the bullet to its highest intensity or running his fingers over your panty clad pussy. All the tasty stuff. It’s the thrill of almost being caught for him.

★ Baby girl also LOVES when you take control. Straddling him, tying him up to the bed, slapping his face. He’s fucking into it.

★ F-fuckk~ wan—wanna touch you so bad~” he whimpers, hips bucking involuntarily while you ride him, bouncing in his lap with your hands on his shoulders and his cuffed. “Mmff—need to cum…please, please—I’ll do whatever you wa—aaah, fffuck!”

★ Wade loves to buy you new toys/lingerie sets all the time! He’ll come through the door with a bag full of new things to try out or on. “Oh, come on—put the bunny ears on…I’ll let you do that one thing you like.”

★ Costumes, dressing up, role play. Cops and robbers, Professor and student, Master and pet. He loves that shit and has a lot of fun with it.

★ “You have the right to remain silent, on your knees, now.” He’ll smirk, cuffing your hands behind your back, trailing a finger down your cheek before fucking your face. “Cock hungry bitch, aren’t ya? Such a good girl…” he croons, pulling at your leash.

★ “You call that begging, honey? Hate to break it to you sweetheart, but you’re gonna have to be louder than that if you want me to fuck you silly.” He teases, sending a sharp smack to your ass while prodding at your slick pussy with his shaft, making you arch and whine out for him.

★ If you’re into it, he has no issue with knife/gun play. “How does it feel…?” he purrs into your ear, slowly sliding the cold metal up your stomach, circling your belly button before trailing up your chest, then collarbone, pressing the blade/barrel to your throat/temple. “Scary? Hot? Scary-Hot?”

★ Loves making you squirt, finger fucking you into oblivion, thumb pressed against your clit until you can’t take anymore. “Fuck yeah, baby.” He pants, bringing his fingers up to his mouth and cleaning them with a simple ‘pop’.

★ “Mhhh…” Wade hums in delight before shoving the same fingers into your mouth—pushing past your teeth, forcing you to taste yourself with a groan “You’re so yummy, don’t you think?”

★ If you’re being a brat, expect proper punishment. “Oooh, talking back to me, huh?” He’ll ask, gripping your face with one hand, forcing you to keep eye contact. “Watch that damn mouth of yours, pretty bitch. And keep riding me—I didn’t say stop.”

★ He’ll make you grind your hips until you’re sore. It’s so fucking good it hurts. “Awww, my poor baby…look at you crying and riding. You must be exhausted, hmm?” Wade grunts, bouncing you on top his lap as if you were a rag doll. His cock slamming into you, hitting that sweet spot—never missing a beat. “Keep going—be a good girl and keep going…”

★ Once you’re both a spent, panting, boneless mess beside each other, he’ll shower you with praise and pepper your face with kisses, combing your unkempt hair with his fingers as he caresses your arm.

★ Wade would set up a diy spa in the bathroom for you. Complete with cucumber slices, a glass of wine (or whatever you want) and a bath that’s wayyy too bubbly. He’d try and give you a foot massage while joking “Only the royal treatment for my queen. Minus the actual royalty…those guys were more fucked up than half of Alabama…”

👽:I wanna be SAVED Deadpool PLEASEEEE SLUT ME OUTTTT

[childrenofcain-if]

How would W react to an MC who is obsessed with them? Like they need help with a small thing? MC drop everything and run to the rescue. W doesn’t take care of themselves? Why bother when MC takes care of them.

W’s presence wasn’t always loud, but it was startling, an emotional thunderhead that you could feel rumbling in your ribs before it even fully cracked.

when the call came, their voice tried to sound casual but failed miserably. “i, uh, could use a hand with something.”

it didn’t matter what it was—something about a deadline they’d forgotten or a lamp they’d broken while pacing in frustration. you didn’t even ask. you dropped your coffee cup on the kitchenette counter, grabbed your jacket, and bolted out the door without thinking twice.

the quick walk to their suite was a blur and when you arrived, W was sitting cross-legged on the couch, their thin frame curled in on itself. they were wearing a mismatched pair of socks, one of them being yours—the blue one with the tiny stars that you’d lost weeks ago—and it was enough to make your heart ache.

“what’s wrong?” you asked, dropping your jacket at the door and crossing the room in three long strides.

W didn’t answer right away. their fingers were busy tracing invisible patterns on the edge of their sweater, which was so oversized it might as well have been a blanket. their silence stretched like a taut wire, and then, finally, they said, “i forgot to eat again.”

your chest tightened. not with anger, not even with frustration, but with the unbearable weight of love for someone who couldn’t always love themself. you didn’t say anything. you just walked into their kitchenette and started rummaging through cabinets and the refridgerator.

there wasn’t much to work with—a box of crackers, a bruised apple, a carton of almond milk. it didn’t matter. you threw together something small and easy and brought it back to W, sitting beside them on the couch.

they looked at the plate like it was a challenge, their fingers twitching toward it but never quite making contact.

“i’m sorry,” they murmured, their voice barely above a whisper.

“don’t,” you said, shaking your head. “you don’t have to apologize.”

“i do,” they insisted, their voice cracking. “you shouldn’t have to—”

“W,” you interrupted, your tone firmer than before. “i’m here because i want to be. because i love you. that’s it. that’s all there is to it.”

they looked at you then, their sapphire blue eyes watery and wide, and for a moment, you thought they might cry. instead, they reached for the plate and took a small bite of the apple. it wasn’t much, but it was definitely a start.

that night, after they’d eaten what they could and you’d cleaned up the remnants, you found yourself sitting together on the couch. W was curled against your side, their head resting on your shoulder, their fingers absently tracing shapes on your arm.

“you’re warm,” they murmured, their voice soft and sleepy. “and you smell nice. like fresh laundry.”

you smiled, pressing a kiss to their temple. “and you’re wearing my missing sock.”

“it’s a good sock,” they said with a tired chuckle, tugging at the hem of it. “better than the pairs i own.”

“you could’ve just asked for it,” you said.

they tilted their head to look up at you, their expression caught somewhere between a smirk and a fond smile. “and where’s the fun in that?”

***

later, as the night deepened, W began to fidget. their fingers, which had been drawing lazy circles on your arm, began to scratch at their own thigh, leaving faint red marks in their wake.

“stop,” you said gently, catching their hand in yours.

they flinched but didn’t pull away. “sorry.”

“don’t apologize,” you said, your voice kind. “just… tell me what’s wrong.”

they hesitated, their gaze fixed on the floor.

“i don’t know how to stop feeling like this,” they admitted. “like i’m… too much. or not enough. or both at the same time.”

your heart broke for the hundredth time that day. you pulled them closer, wrapping your arms around them like you could shield them from the weight of their own thoughts.

“you’re not too much,” you said. “and you’re not not enough. you’re exactly who you’re supposed to be.”

they didn’t respond, but their body relaxed slightly against yours. after a moment, they said, “i love you so much, i can’t bear the pain.”

the words were so quiet you almost missed them, but when they sank in, they hit you like a freight train. you tightened your hold on them, pressing a kiss to the crown of their head.

“i love you so much, i’ll bear it for you,” you whispered.

W looked up at you then, their eyes soft and full of something you couldn’t quite name.

“you mean that?” they asked tentatively.

“every word,” you replied, leaving no room for doubt. W said nothing but their smile was brighter than the lights in the room.

after a while, W whispered in latin, “te amabo aeternum.”

you recognized the words instantly, even though W’s accent was softer, less confident. i will love you forever.

“amabo te in aeternum,” you corrected gently, your voice warm and teasing. the structure mattered less than the sentiment, but you couldn’t help it. W’s latin was too endearing to leave unpolished.

“of course you’d fix that,” they muttered with a faint smile, their tone holding no actual irritation. “you always seem to know everything, don’t you?”

“not everything,” you said, smiling softly as you ran your thumb along the back of their hand. “just the important parts. like how much you mean to me.”

W looked up at you then, their blue eyes catching the light and you leaned in closer, your nose brushing against theirs.

“et ego te amo.” and i love you, you said, soft but firm, as if the words themselves could shield them from everything clawing at their mind.

they sighed, a sound that carried equal parts relief and exhaustion, and melted against you. “thank you for everything, mein stern.”

***

as the night wore on, W continued murmuring fragments of latin into the quiet—“es somnium meum,” they said at one point, and it took you a moment to piece it together. you are my dream.

you tightened your hold on them. “tibi in somniis et re in aeternum pertinebo,” you whispered back. i will belong to you in your dreams and reality forever.

that earned a smile from W, small but real, and when they finally closed their eyes, you stayed awake, holding them close. you whispered one final phrase into the night, one you weren’t even sure they’d catch:

“in saecula saeculorum.” forever and ever.

they didn’t respond, but their breathing slowed, steady and even, their body curled against yours with all the trust and affection that they could ever afford to give back.

[moonshadowmystique]

The Right Person at the Wrong Time - A Reflection on Timing and Connection

All our lives, we have heard stories that involve the right person turning up at the wrong time. This concept is jarringly alarming because it layer-peels the facade of finding the right individual in regard to love, connection, or relationship. This indicates, if explained better, that two people fitting for each other might fail to emerge when the various elements of life are against their coming together.

What does it even mean to meet the right person at the wrong time?

The Complexity in Timing

Timing is an invisible force that shapes the connections we make, often in ways of which we are barely aware. You might meet your dream person, that person who checks all the boxes or sees the world through a filter instituted by your soul. But with you not being emotionally available, probably still recovering from injuries of the past, or perhaps in the middle of some personal crisis, such connection might just not blossom. On the other hand, it could be them who is dealing with troubles at this stage, which means they cannot also be fully present.

This is extra challenging because, by nature of things, there is tension between what we feel and what reality presents. There is almost something tragic in the beauty of having found someone incredible but at the wrong time. You're forced, then, to think that love and connection are about more than logical matches, but two lives crossing at a certain point where access and readiness are aligned.

The 'What If' Paradox

That is the question that will haunt when the right person shows up at the wrong time: What if things were different? It's such a haunting thought, and then you are left to wonder how, in some other world, maybe it would have worked between the two of you. You have a vision of how this might have been the case with another chapter of your life. You could run yourself into sleepless nights with 'what ifs' and yearn for something that may never be resolved.

But harboring such questions in one's mind forever would render living in the present light of day an impossibility. It is very human to reflect on the paths not taken, but living in the country of 'what ifs' blinds you to the new opportunities staring you in the face.

Growth, Timing, and Readiness

It might be that meeting the right person at the wrong time sometimes serves a great purpose. Sometimes such experiences will teach us more about ourselves, or perhaps are a reflection of where we need to grow or what we need to let go of to be truly ready for a meaningful connection in the future. Other times, the person you meet is but a mirror reflecting the work yet to be done on yourself.

That person may remind you that deep love is deserved by you, even if at the time that is not fated to be with them. They may provide a catalyzing agent that impels you to align your life through means that serve to better prepare you in the future for a relationship be it with them or someone else.

Embracing Imperfection

One of the most painful things we may learn is that imperfection meets us around every corner in life, and love is no different. Yes, even when we think we have found that person who fits every category on our ostensibly perfect list, it's not as if the universe necessarily plays a role in ensuring that all that lines up. That's just part of the mystery—and frustration—of being human.

But perhaps, other than cruel fate, that is the profound message: love is not about everything working out perfectly. It means the understanding that connections, no matter the depth, sometimes do not come out with fairy tales. It is about embracing the will-o'-the-wisps, beautiful moments for what they are and not necessarily needing them to last.

Moving Forward with Ease

So, what happens when you are in this situation? There isn't some simple answer to this proposition, nor is a one-size-fits-all solution for anything. Some can hold onto the hope that one day, in the future, the timing shall be right and the stars align. While others let go, realizing that even while a connection was powerful, yet it simply wasn't meant to be a permanent fixture in our lives.

Both are correct. The key is to move with elegance. Life, with all the moments of its unpredictability, is a journey that's really full of twists and turns. That person at the wrong time could have been one chapter in your story, but it need not define the whole narrative. Every experience in life adds to your growth, even the bittersweet ones.

Ultimately, the concept of meeting the right person at the wrong time invites us to consider what love, timing, and self-awareness are all about. It reminds us that not everything is about chemistry but about being prepared—about two people meeting at the crossroads of their journeys in life, ready to take that step together. And sometimes, such journeys are meant to meet only briefly, leaving an indelible mark but no permanent union. In those moments, we can only respectfully acknowledge the bond for what it was and know that each interaction—every human contact—is a part of our development and continues to shape us into who we are and who we will become.

[fr0stf4ll]

Forge of Stralight - Part 2

here is the link for part 1 or part 3

paring; Azriel x reader

summary; In the heart of Velaris, a skilled blacksmith's quiet life is turned upside down when unexpected bonds begin to form with the enigmatic Spymaster of the Night Court. As she navigates the challenges of her craft and the complexities of newfound relationships, she discovers that love and loyalty may be the strongest forces of all in a world where darkness often lingers just beyond the light.

Word Count; 4k

notes; Hey everyone! This chapter is more centered around the IC. New clues and questions will arise while following Y/N from a different perspective. Also I already wrote a good part of the story, I will try to publish a new chapter every day/two day. I hope that you will like the part 2. Do not hesitate to comment. Bisous <3

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Two weeks had flown by, and the long-awaited night of the Winter Solstice had enveloped Velaris in a festive blanket of snow and twinkling stars. Inside the stately townhouse of the High Lord, the inner circle—Mor, Armen, Cassian, Azriel, and Rhys—gathered around a roaring fire, the room aglow with the warmth of friendship and laughter.

Mor, ever the heart of any gathering, clapped her hands with a bright, infectious enthusiasm. "Alright, everyone, it's the moment we've all been waiting for—gifts time!" she announced, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

Laughter and cheerful banter filled the room as small, beautifully wrapped packages began to change hands. Azriel joked about how he hoped his gift was better than last year's infamous "invisible cloak"—which turned out to be just an empty box. Cassian roared with laughter, slapping him on the back, while Rhys watched on, a sly grin playing on his lips.

As the gifts made their rounds, the moment came for Cassian and Azriel to receive their gifts from Rhys. With a dramatic flourish that matched the occasion, Rhys presented them each with an elegantly wrapped, long, slender box. "For my brothers, who deserve nothing but the best," he said with a warm tone of brotherly affection.

Cassian and Azriel exchanged a look of curiosity and anticipation before tearing into the wrapping. As they lifted the lids, the room fell into an appreciative silence. Inside each box lay a masterfully crafted sword and dagger set, the metal gleaming even in the soft light of the fire.

Azriel’s set was sleek and shadowy, with subtle, intricate engravings along the blade that seemed to shift and move in the light. The hilt was expertly crafted to fit perfectly in his hand, and the syphon stone nestled at the base pulsed with a faint, mysterious glow.

Cassian's sword and dagger were robust and commanding, with bold designs etched along the blades and a heavier, more aggressive build. The handles were wrapped in dark leather that contrasted starkly with the bright gleam of the steel, and his syphon stone throbbed with a powerful, steady light.

"Rhys, these are... incredible," Cassian finally broke the silence, his voice thick with emotion. "Seriously, brother, they're more than I could have hoped for."

Azriel, ever the more reserved of the two, was quietly inspecting his blade, but his impressed expression spoke volumes. He looked up at Rhys, a question in his eyes. "Was this why you sent me to the new blacksmith’s shop? To deliver our old syphons?"

Rhys nodded, a satisfied smile lighting up his face. "Yes, I wanted Y/N to incorporate them into your new weapons. I knew she could breathe new life into those old stones."

Mor leaned forward, her interest piqued. "That was a brilliant touch, Rhys. Y/N’s craftsmanship is truly remarkable. Did you see how Az’s blade almost seems alive with shadows?"

"And Cass’s looks like it could lead an army on its own," Armen added, smirking as she felt back in her comfy sofa.

The conversation spiraled into a lively discussion about the craftsmanship, the battle stories that the old syphons had seen, and how these new weapons would soon make their own marks in history. Laughter and heartfelt thanks filled the room, creating memories that would warm their hearts for many solstices to come.

As the night wore on, filled with more stories and laughter, Cassian and Azriel handled their new gifts with something akin to reverence. It was clear these were more than just weapons; they were symbols of their brotherhood, their strength, and the silent, unbreakable bonds that held them all together.

As the Winter Solstice celebration unfolded in the warm glow of the townhouse, Rhysand and Azriel found a brief moment of quiet near the crackling fire. The High Lord, nursing a glass of wine, caught the spymaster's thoughtful gaze and smiled knowingly.

"Y/N, hmm?" Rhysand began, his tone light with a hint of intrigue. "I heard about her long before she set up shop in Velaris. It was during a meeting with Helion at his court. He couldn't stop boasting about the spear she crafted for him—it was truly magnificent."

Azriel, leaning casually against the wall, raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "Helion? That's high praise coming from the Day Court. She must be something special."

Rhysand nodded, a gleam of pride in his eyes. "Indeed she is. From what I gather, she keeps to herself, lets her work speak for her. Mysterious, but fiercely talented."

Azriel’s interest was clearly piqued. "She seems to have a knack for keeping a low profile. What do you know about her background?"

Rhysand’s gaze shifted to the fire, a thoughtful expression crossing his features. "She’s originally from the Night Court, Velaris to be exact. But beyond that, she’s a bit of an enigma. Not one to share her story readily."

Azriel nodded slowly, absorbing the information. "Her work speaks volumes, though. Each piece feels imbued with a story, a history."

Rhysand chuckled softly. "Sounds like someone else I know," he teased, nudging Azriel playfully. "But she’s different. There’s a depth to her craftsmanship that’s rare."

Meanwhile, across the room, Mor and Cassian were engrossed in their own revelry, their laughter filling the air as they enjoyed the solstice festivities with abandon, seemingly oblivious to the more serious conversation unfolding between Rhysand and Azriel.

Azriel’s gaze lingered thoughtfully on the flickering flames before returning to Rhysand. "Do you think she’d be willing to collaborate with us more closely? Her talent could be a valuable asset to our efforts."

Rhysand nodded in agreement. "I was thinking the same thing. Let’s give her time to settle in, though. If she’s as exceptional as we believe, she’ll find her place in our plans soon enough."

Their conversation shifted to lighter topics as the night wore on, but Azriel couldn't shake the intrigue Y/N had stirred in him. Her presence in Velaris promised more than just exceptional craftsmanship—it hinted at alliances, mysteries, and a potential for change that resonated deeply within the heart of the Night Court.

----

A few days after the festive celebrations of the Winter Solstice, Rhysand was deep in discussion with Madja, the esteemed healer of the Night Court. They were seated in a quiet, sunlit room in the House of Wind, poring over scrolls and plans aimed at enhancing the health infrastructure of their court. They debated new strategies and shared insights on how best to equip their healers with advanced resources.

As their meeting drew to a close, Madja, ever observant, shifted the topic with a hint of intrigue in her tone. "Rhysand, have you heard of the blacksmith Y/N?" she asked, her eyes sharp and probing.

Rhysand nodded, a hint of pride in his response. "Yes, I'm quite familiar with her work. She crafted the weapons I gifted to Cassian and Azriel for the solstice. They were exceptional."

Madja leaned in slightly, her voice lowering to a confidential whisper. "Keep her close, Rhysand. She bears a power that could save many lives, far beyond what her craftsmanship alone might suggest."

Rhysand's interest was immediately piqued, his strategic mind already turning over the implications. "What do you mean, Madja? What kind of power are we talking about?"

Madja sighed, and her gaze became distant as she recalled the day she visited Y/N's smithy, prompting a flashback:

The day had been unusually brisk for Velaris, the winter chill seeping through even the warmest of cloaks. Madja pushed open the door to Y/N's smithy, greeted by the familiar clang of metal on metal and the comforting heat that rolled out from the forge. The shop was lively, with customers admiring the array of weapons and tools displayed with meticulous care. The air smelled of iron and burning coals, a scent that Madja had always associated with strength and resilience.

Y/N emerged from the back, wiping her hands on a leather apron, her sharp eyes taking in the scene before settling on Madja. "Healer Madja," Y/N greeted with a nod, a small smile on her lips. "What can I do for you today?"

Madja reached into the folds of her cloak and pulled out an old, well-worn sickle. The blade, while still sharp, had seen many years of use. "I need a new sickle," she explained, holding the tool out for Y/N to examine. "Something similar to this, but I’d like it embedded with healing gems—something that can amplify my abilities when I work."

Y/N took the sickle, turning it over in her hands, studying the craftsmanship with a discerning eye. "I can do that," she said after a moment. "I’ll need a few days to gather the right materials, but I’ll make sure it’s exactly what you need."

As they spoke, the shop was bustling around them. Alexander, ever energetic and eager to help, was darting about, juggling several tasks at once. At one point, he was carrying an armful of swords, trying to show a client the finer details of a blade while managing the chaos around him. Madja watched with a smile, amused by the boy’s enthusiasm.

But then, in his haste, Alex’s foot caught on the edge of a carpet that had bunched up beneath the weight of all the activity. He stumbled forward, the swords in his arms clattering to the ground with a sharp, metallic crash. His wide eyes filled with panic as he lost his balance, teetering dangerously.

Y/N reacted instantly, her hand shooting out to catch Alex before he could fall, her grip steady and sure. But in the chaos, Madja’s old sickle, which had been resting precariously on the edge of the counter, was knocked off, plummeting toward the floor—and directly toward Alex.

Madja’s heart leaped into her throat, but before she could move, Y/N’s other hand lashed out, snatching the sickle by the blade just inches from Alex’s head. The sharp edge sliced through Y/N’s palm, blood welling up immediately. But the sickle never reached the boy. Instead, Y/N held it firmly, her expression more concerned with Alex than her own injury.

"Alex, are you okay?" Y/N asked, her voice calm despite the cut on her hand.

Alex, wide-eyed and shaken, nodded slowly. "Y-Yeah, I’m fine. I’m so sorry, Nana, I didn’t mean to—"

"It’s alright," Y/N assured him, her voice gentle. She set the sickle down carefully, then knelt to help Alex gather the fallen swords. "Just be more careful next time, okay?"

Madja stepped forward, her healer’s instincts kicking in as she moved to examine Y/N’s hand. "Let me see that," she insisted, reaching out.

But Y/N pulled her hand back slightly, shaking her head. "It’s just a scratch. I’ll be fine."

Madja was about to protest when something caught her eye—small, flickering blue flames that danced across Y/N’s wound, sealing it shut with a soft, almost musical hum. The flames vanished as quickly as they had appeared, leaving behind smooth, unbroken skin where the cut had been just moments before.

Madja stared, her mind racing. "What... was that?" she murmured, more to herself than to anyone else.

Y/N seemed unfazed, her focus still on Alex, making sure he was steady on his feet. "Nothing to worry about," she said, her tone casual. But there was a tension in her voice that didn’t escape Madja’s notice.

The healer hesitated, unsure of what she had just witnessed, but knowing better than to press the issue in front of others. "If you’re sure," she finally said, though the uncertainty lingered in her eyes.

Y/N nodded, giving her a reassuring smile. "I am. Thank you, Madja."

Madja left the shop soon after, but the image of those blue flames stayed with her. She couldn’t shake the feeling that what she had seen was more than just a simple healing ability—there was something deeper, something powerful about Y/N that she couldn’t yet understand.

Back in the present, Rhysand’s expression was contemplative, his mind turning over the possibilities. "Blue flames that heal… That’s not something you see every day. You’re sure it was real, Madja?"

Madja nodded, her expression serious. "I’ve never seen anything like it before, Rhysand. There’s a power in her that could be incredibly valuable. Her abilities could redefine healing, or perhaps... something more."

Rhysand leaned back, his thoughts racing. "This is something I need to look into further. If Y/N possesses such power, she could play a crucial role in the future of the Night Court."

"Be careful, Rhysand," Madja warned gently. "Power like that isn’t always easy to control. But if anyone can guide her, it’s you."

Rhysand nodded, the weight of this new revelation settling on his shoulders. He knew he needed to approach this carefully, to understand the full extent of Y/N’s abilities—and to ensure that whatever power she held, it would be used to protect and strengthen the Night Court.

----

The day had been kind to you, the steady hum of work filling your hours, and now, as night fell over Velaris, you decided to treat Alex to a well-deserved meal. The two of you strolled along the Sidra, the river reflecting the twinkling lights of the city, casting everything in a magical glow. The restaurant you chose was a cozy, yet elegant establishment with an outdoor terrace that overlooked the water. The warm, inviting lights and the soft murmur of other diners created a serene atmosphere that was perfect for unwinding after a long day.

You had dressed nicely for the occasion, opting for well-fitted pants and a tailored shirt that allowed you to feel both comfortable and presentable. Alex, too, had cleaned up well, his usual enthusiasm shining brightly in his eyes as you both took your seats at a small table by the river.

"This place is amazing, Nana," Alex said, his voice filled with excitement as he scanned the menu. "We should come here more often!"

You smiled, taking in the joy on his face. "We’ve had a good run lately, haven’t we? I figured we deserved a little treat."

The waiter arrived, and you both placed your orders— your young apprentice going for sugary drink and you for a glass of white wine. As you sipped your drink, Alex leaned in with a mischievous grin.

"You remember that client who came in last week?" Alex began, his tone full of amusement. "The one who insisted he needed a sword for 'taming wild beasts'? Turns out he thought the sword would actually talk to the animals and convince them to behave."

You nearly choked on your wine, giggling at the absurdity of it. "No! Did he really? I thought he just wanted a strong blade for hunting or something."

Alex nodded, laughing. "Yeah! I had to explain to him that swords don’t exactly come with instructions for bear negotiations."

Your laughter was soft and genuine, the joy of the moment spreading warmth through your chest. It was in that moment of shared humor that the door to the restaurant opened, and you caught sight of Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian entering. They were dressed as impeccably as ever, their presence immediately commanding attention in the room. 

The three of them were clearly expected, as a table near the river, a bit more private, was promptly made available for them. However, before they were seated, Rhysand’s gaze fell upon you and Alex. His eyes lit up with recognition, and a charming smile spread across his face as he made his way over to your table, the others following behind.

"Y/N," Rhysand greeted warmly, his voice smooth as ever. "What a pleasant surprise to see you here." He turned to Alex with a grin. "And this must be the famous Alexander I’ve heard so much about."

Alex, never one to shy away from attention, beamed up at the High Lord. "That’s me! Nice to see you again, my lord!"

Rhysand chuckled, then glanced back at his brothers. "Y/N, allow me to introduce Cassian, our esteemed General of the Illyrian legions. I believe you’ve already met Azriel, our spymaster."

Cassian extended a hand with a friendly grin. "I’ve heard nothing but good things about your work, Y/N. It’s a pleasure to finally meet the master behind the blade."

You shook his hand, feeling a bit shy under the attention but managing a smile. "The pleasure’s mine. I’ve heard a lot about you as well."

Azriel, standing slightly behind Rhysand, gave you a nod of acknowledgment. "Good to see you again, Y/N."

Rhysand then motioned toward their table, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. "Why don’t you both join us for dinner? We’d love the company."

Caught off guard, you hesitated, glancing at Alex before responding. "Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude. This is your night out, after all."

Cassian waved away your concern with a laugh. "Nonsense! The more, the merrier."

You were still about to politely decline when Alex piped up, his eyes wide with excitement. "Please, Nana! I’ve always wanted to have dinner with them. Plus, I think they’ve got some cool stories to tell!"

You bit your lip, trying to hide your smile. Alex’s enthusiasm was hard to resist, and the idea of joining them, despite your initial reluctance, was becoming more appealing. Finally, you sighed playfully and nodded. "Alright, alright. You win, Alex."

Rhysand’s smile broadened as he gestured toward their table. "Perfect. Let’s make this an evening to remember."

The evening by the Sidra continued to unfold beautifully as you and Alex joined Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel at their table. The atmosphere was warm and inviting, the city lights reflecting off the river, casting a soft glow over the terrace. The five of you settled in comfortably, and soon, food and drinks were ordered—a mix of hearty dishes and lighter fare, with wine flowing freely.

As the meal progressed, the conversation naturally turned to more personal topics. Rhysand, ever the curious and perceptive High Lord, leaned in slightly, his eyes twinkling with genuine interest. "Y/N, you’re a bit of a mystery. I’d love to know more about your story—where you’re from, your family, how you came to be the talented blacksmith you are today."

You hesitated for a moment, swirling the wine in your glass as you considered where to begin. The table fell into a quiet, expectant silence, all eyes on you.

"Well," you started, "I’m originally from Velaris. My father was a guard here, dedicated to protecting the city, and my mother came from a family of old politicians who eventually left Hewn City to make a life here."

Cassian nodded thoughtfully, sipping his drink. "Sounds like they were strong people. What happened to them?"

You sighed softly, the memories bittersweet. "My mother died giving birth to me. It was... hard on my father. They were mates, and the pain of losing her was too much for him. He passed away a few hours after she did."

Cassian’s brow furrowed, his voice laced with concern and curiosity. "He just... passed away? How?"

You took a deep breath, meeting his gaze steadily. "He killed himself. The bond they shared was so strong that living without her wasn’t an option for him."

The table grew solemn, the weight of your words settling over everyone. Rhysand reached out, "I’m sorry, Y/N. That’s a lot for anyone to bear."

You nodded, appreciating the gesture. “I never actually knew them so I’m fine with it I guess. After they died, I was raised by my father’s best friend—my master. He taught me everything I know about blacksmithing. We traveled to most of the courts and across the continent, honing my skills. Alex," you added with a fond glance at the boy beside you, "is my master’s son. After my master passed away, I took Alex under my wing."

Alex, who had been quietly listening, smiled up at you, his admiration evident. “Y/N's the best teacher. She’s taught me everything."

Azriel, who had been quietly observing, spoke up, his tone thoughtful. "You’ve had quite the journey, Y/N. It takes strength to turn pain into something as beautiful and powerful as your work."

You smiled softly, nodding in agreement. "It wasn’t easy, but it’s the only way I know how to honor them."

As the evening wore on, the conversation flowed freely, accompanied by the delicious food and the soothing ambiance of the Sidra beside you. After sharing your story, a question that had been lingering at the back of your mind finally surfaced.

“You three,” you began, glancing between Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel, “are you truly brothers? I’ve heard stories, but I’ve always wondered how much truth there is to them.”

Cassian chuckled, exchanging a glance with Rhysand and Azriel. “Well, not by blood,” he admitted, “but in every way that matters, we’re brothers.”

Rhysand nodded, his expression softening as he looked at his two closest friends. “We grew up together in the Illyrian war camps. It wasn’t an easy upbringing, but we forged bonds that can’t be broken. Cassian and Azriel have been at my side through everything—through battles, victories, losses… they’re my family.”

Azriel, who was usually reserved, added quietly, “We’ve faced more together than most blood-related brothers ever would. That kind of connection goes beyond anything as simple as blood.”

Cassian leaned in, a grin spreading across his face. “And if you need proof, just look at how often we bicker like brothers.”

You laughed softly, understanding now the depth of their bond. “It’s clear there’s a lot of history between you. It’s… comforting to see that even in a place as powerful as the Night Court, family—however it’s made—still matters most.”

Rhysand smiled at you, his eyes reflecting the sentiment. “Family is everything to us, Y/N. And it’s something that grows—not just with blood, but with loyalty and trust.”

At this, Cassian turned his attention to Alex, who was listening intently. “Speaking of family, Alex, how about joining ours in a different way? Ever thought about training to be a warrior? You’ve got the makings of a good one.”

Alex looked up at Cassian, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “What time would the training start?”

Cassian grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Around dawn. What do you think?”

Alex wrinkled his nose playfully, causing everyone to chuckle. “Dawn? That’s way too late! By then, Nana and I have already finished our training.”

The table fell into a momentary silence, the surprise evident on the faces of the Night Court’s inner circle. Azriel raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. “You train before dawn?”

You couldn’t help but smile at their reactions. “What did you expect? We don’t just create weapons; we know how to wield them, too. Alex is becoming quite skilled, actually.”

Cassian let out a low whistle, visibly impressed. “Well, consider me impressed. Maybe I’ll join you two sometime—if you’ll have me.”

Alex beamed with pride. “You’re welcome anytime, but don’t expect to keep up!”

Laughter erupted around the table, the earlier heaviness of your shared stories giving way to a light-hearted camaraderie that wrapped around you like a warm embrace. The night continued with more stories, jokes, and the easy flow of conversation that only comes when people truly connect.

As the evening drew to a close, and the stars twinkled brightly above Velaris, you felt a deep sense of belonging. This dinner by the Sidra had revealed not just the pasts of the people around you, but had begun weaving your own story into the fabric of their lives. It was the start of something new, something meaningful—both for you and for Alex—and you couldn’t wait to see where it would lead.

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[rebelliousstories]

WHAM!

Relationship: Wade Wilson/ Deadpool x Reader

Fandom: X-Men

Request: Yes by Anon

Warnings: Fluff, Innuendos, Brief Adult Content, Mentions of Drug Use

Word Count: 1,013

Main Masterlist: Here

X-Men Masterlist: Here

Summary: A simple night with some good food and better music.

“Baby, is that the takeout for tonight?”

“Yes ma’am. I’ve got the goods. It’s gonna cost you though.”

Wade rounded the corner and set the bags down on the counter, before spinning his girlfriend around by the hips. They had the apartment all to themselves that evening, thanks to Logan taking Blind Al to his apartment for the night. And the couple was going to make the most of it.

“What’s it going to cost me, Mr. Pool?” She teased, wrapping her arms around his neck. They began to sway gently to invisible music that only drifted in their touch.

“I think a kiss to start,” came his request. Looking to be deep in thought about it, he took it upon himself to surge forward and press his lips against hers. Both of them began to sink into the embrace that took over their bodies. However, the microwave beeped and brought them back into the world.

“Move, mister. Gotta get the popcorn out.” As she did, her boyfriend let out a loud gasp as she dumped the contents of the bag into a bowl.

“Is that the limited edition salt and vinegar popcorn? And are you going to put the caramel on the side so we can enjoy that as a post dinner snack with the movie?” He rattled off, clapping his hands together while watching like a parrot over her shoulder.

“Yes it is. And it will be perfectly cooled down for your preference by the time we’re done eating.” She moved on from the popcorn, and grabbed some forks and spoons for the takeout.

The couple moved to the table in the dining room, and began their meal. A usual takeout night was pizza or wings, but tonight was special. Wade had gotten the favorite pasta from that Italian joint down the road that they always went to. Light conversation flowed through the air as they continued to eat. Even with all of his wrinkly, dimpled, bold headedness, she still loved to look at him. It had been a challenging few years, but they made it work.

“You know what this needs?” Wade suddenly stood, and went over to the boom box that was tucked away into the corner of the room.

“No, no, Wade. Please don’t,” her begging did nothing but encourage him. He stuck a tape in and turned dramatically.

“Oh, yes baby, come on.” His hands grabbed hers, and placed them on top of his shoulders, while his went to her waist. The music flowed through the apartment, and wrapped around them as they not quite danced, but rather swayed together.

“Is that Wham?”

“Gotta say it right. It’s ’WHAM!’,” Wade dropped his voice to a near whisper, “the album gave them their exclamation point.”

“Whatever you say, honey.” She stood on her toes, and pressed a kiss to his lips. It was certainly different than kissing someone without a mutation like his. But there was no one else in the world she would rather kiss. The rough outline of his lips, that were constantly slathered in chapstick to make it more pleasing for her, molded so perfectly with hers. Firm muscles under her hands, and dimpled skin underneath the tips of her fingers. He was the first one to pull away as the song trailed off.

“Movie time?” His voice was excited at the prospect of continuing their night.

“Are you saying that because you want to spend time with me in a horizontal position, or because you want the popcorn?” She teased.

“Oh I always love spending time with you horizontally. But I actually really want to watch the film.” Wade’s flirting was nothing new for her. In fact, it was a welcome part of her day and dialogue with him. She could automatically tell if something was wrong depending on if he did not make an innuendo or adult joke to her.

“Whatever you say big man. I’m bringing my spaghetti though. That stuff is so good.”

They grabbed their respect foods, and made their way to the couch. Plopping down, she watched as her lover set up the film on their brand new blu-ray player that was a gift from the TVA. Wade could have asked for anything, but he was a simple man at heart. He just wanted to be able to watch Golden Girls in perfect imaging for years to come. However, a new film filled the slot as the man made his way to the couch to sit next to his girlfriend.

“Really,” came her deadpan delivery; complete with expression to match.

“Don’t knock it till you try it.” However, whether Wade was saying that about his popcorn that was now being dipped in caramel or the movie he had selected, she was not sure.

“It’s a ‘My Little Pony’ film.” All the different characters made themselves right at home on the screen before them while he turned to face her.

“Okay, Grouchy Bear. Just watch it, will you? They really teach you a lot about magic, friendship, and how to recognize red flags in the people in your life.” Wade went on to defend, but she dropped her face into her hands. She laughed lightly while peaking at him through her fingers.

“Alright. Just hit play.”

At her defeat, Wilson happily followed the order and tucked himself in. She put her food to the side after a couple more bites because she would much rather be doing things other than eating. While the food found a place on their coffee table, she found her spot tucked underneath her boyfriend’s arm so that she was snuggled into his side.

“It is a pretty good movie so far.” She whispered, not too sure if he had heard what she said.

“I know.” Wade responded, pressing a kiss to her hair. This was right where the both of them wanted to be. Just them two alone for some quality time. And paying absolutely no attention to the fact that Logan was yelling at Blind Al downstairs for offering to do cocaine with Laura.

[versairic]

Gingerbread house | DR3

In which Daniel and you do a gingerbread house building battle, but it goes differently than it should

pairing - daniel ricciardo x reader

words - 1687

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The frost had covered the window panes with filigree ice crystals that looked like delicate, sparkling patterns in the weak light. The cold drew relentlessly through the cracks, as if it were an invisible breath that crept into every little corner.

The frost clung stubbornly to the glass as if it wanted to hold it forever in its icy embrace, while outside the evening settled over the landscape in icy silence.

This weather was the perfect excuse to curl up in front of the warm fireplace with a blanket and a hot chocolate.

Countless people seemed to have the same idea as you and Daniel, as there was no one to be seen on the street for miles around. Not even a car drove through the street of the block of flats where Daniel and you had been living for not too long.

The flickering light of the fireplace and the warm glow of the countless fairy lights created a relaxed atmosphere, while the smell of your cocoa and the gingerbread scent of a scented candle lingered in the air.

Cosy blankets lay around your shoulders, while chaos reigned on the living room table.

The gingerbread house kits, tubes of icing and heaps of colourful decorations consisting of sweet treats were scattered all over the place.

"You do realise that this will be my victory?" Daniel grinned as he carelessly threw the box with the instructions on how best to assemble the gingerbread house behind him.

Just a few days ago, you had discovered the colourful boxes of gingerbread houses in the supermarket and Daniel had immediately come up with a challenge idea.

The best gingerbread house would win. However, you hadn't yet clarified the question of how it would be decided who had the most beautiful gingerbread house.

"Don't be so sure Ricciardo," you replied, giving him a serious look that only made Daniel laugh even harder. "You'll stop laughing. I swear to you."

A grin crept onto your face as Daniel rolled his eyes and then let his hands crack slightly.

"An hour, then?" the Aussie asked as he took his mobile phone out of his trouser pocket and opened the timer app.

"Yes, but first I have to get something!" you replied quickly as you jumped up and ran out of the warm room.

"Don't you dare prepare something to help you cheat!" Daniel called after you as you dived into the storeroom, which was in quite a mess, and began to look for what you needed.

A short time later, when you came back into the warm living room with the thing you had specially prepared and the warmth immediately enveloped you again and made you sigh softly, Daniel began to look at you in confusion.

In your hand, you were holding a partition that you had specially made out of cardboard so that Daniel and you had more or less a little protection from each other and could build your gingerbread house in peace so that the other person couldn't steal any tips and tricks.

"This really takes me back to my school days," smiled the Aussie as you placed the cardboard wall between the two of you on the living room table.

"Well then, I hope that puts you under a lot of pressure and makes you nervous," you replied with a cheeky grin as you placed all the things you needed for the little house neatly on the table in front of you to keep a perfect overview of everything.

It wasn't unusual for Daniel and you to tease each other on a daily basis. Sometimes even for the smallest of things. You could be forgiven for thinking that this was part of your love language.

"I told you I was going to win." Daniel looked over the partition and began to waggle his eyebrow, which made you roll your eyes this time.

"Weirdo," you commented with a giggle, before giving him a shake through his curls, which hadn't been sitting neatly on his head for a few days and would soon be in need of a bitter visit to the hairdresser.

"Okay, here we go...3...2...1...GO!" shouted Daniel and then set the timer for an hour before you set to work.

While you proceeded calmly and tactically and began to coat the house with icing piece by piece and then put the appropriate pieces into the floor, Daniel began to randomly coat pieces with icing and somehow press them into the floor, so that one or two pieces hung crookedly in the floor and quiet swearing could be heard from his side.

All in all, the room was plunged into creative chaos.

You kept hearing low murmurs coming from Daniel's direction, which made you realise that things weren't going the way he wanted.

"So, problems, boss?" you asked, while the walls of your gingerbread house were already bombproof and only the roof was still missing.

On the whole, your house was pretty straight, which could not be said of the leaning and slightly crumbling walls of Daniel's gingerbread house, which was only held together with difficulty.

"I'll be fine. How are you looking? Are you trying to divert attention from your mess?" he asked instead as he spread more icing on one wall, causing it to collapse completely.

"It looks good here, Love."

"Oh, I don't think so," he more or less shot back while trying to save his wall somehow, but he decided against moving the other walls a little so that the missing fourth wall wouldn't be noticeable.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Daniel fishing for the packet of gingerbread house that he had thrown across the room a few minutes ago.

"What are you doing?" Your eyebrows rose as you watched in confusion as he kicked the box back in his direction.

And then his hands, with something in them, wandered under the table over to the box.

"Danny, what are you doing? Are you trying to cover something up? " you asked indignantly, whereupon the Aussie began to shake his head wildly.

"Stop accusing me of something like that. I'm not doing anything! I'm just looking for a tissue. My fingers are sticky from all the icing!" he tried to talk his way out of it, but it was already too late, because you had already seen through him.

Without paying any further attention to the partition, you pulled the piece of cardboard off the table and looked down at his gingerbread house, which was now collapsing like a house of cards due to the light breeze from the cardboard.

"Maaan!", Daniel sulked exaggeratedly. "I put so much effort into it."

A laugh escaped your lips. It was really amusing to see Daniel sitting there, sulking like a little child and looking down at his broken gingerbread house, completely forgetting that he was literally holding the piece of wall he wanted to make disappear under your nose.

"Aha! What have we got there?" With a skilful movement, you grabbed the piece of gingerbread and waved it around in front of your friend's eyes. " You wanted to cheat! That's five points off for Huffelpuff!"

"You're seriously putting me in Huffelpuff?"

The fact that you thought he belonged in the Hufflepuff house from Harry Potter seemed to shock him more than the fact that you had just caught him in the act.

"I think the house suits you best. What did you think? Slytherin?"

In response, the Aussie just grumbled and then let his eyes wander over to the gingerbread house, which stood perfectly in front of you with barely any icing oozing out of the places where you had stuck them together.

"Your house definitely looks too perfect," Daniel more or less realised and before you could react, he had already leaned over and bitten off a piece of your gingerbread house, which made you gasp in shock.

He didn't really do that just now, did he?

"Daniel!" you moaned out his name, more or less stunned, while the typical Daniel grin formed on his lips.

"what?" he mumbled with his mouth full.

"You're really impossible. And this is anything but fair. First you try to cover up your wall and then you sabotage my house, which I built with a lot of love and effort."

You tried to remain serious, but you were anything but successful as Daniel put on a sugar-sweet pout that made him grin slightly.

"If my house isn't perfect, yours shouldn't be either," he continued to pout like a little child.

It really was always amusing with Daniel. Since the two of you have been in a relationship, it clearly hasn't been boring once. On the contrary. Every day brought something new and funny.

And there really hasn't been a single day since you've been with Daniel that you haven't laughed.

Because the Aussie made sure that you laughed at least ten times a day.

"My house was far from perfect, Danny. But you should have covered up your fourth wall much better. Then this would never have happened," you replied, shrugging your shoulders and reaching for the sweets to somehow save the little spot that Daniel had bitten off.

"Then I'll build something else. How about a second floor for your house? " he tried, literally ripping the walls off the gingerbread house before sliding close to you and sticking the three remaining walls in your face.

"Don't touch my house," you replied, playing serious, while she giggled and you actually gave in in the end.

And so in one hour you didn't build two gingerbread houses, but a two-storey crooked gingerbread house with crooked walls and ceilings, but that didn't matter.

Most of the icing and sweets ended up in your bellies when you were building the house anyway, so the house hardly had any decoration left and would have collapsed from all the icing in the end anyway.

And either way, the most important thing was to have fun. And you clearly had it.

[littlefireball]

ʏꜱ|ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴋɴᴏᴛ ᴍᴇ ᴀɢᴀɪɴ (ᴀ/ᴍ)

ᴅᴏʙᴇʀᴍᴀɴ ʜʏʙʀɪᴅ ꜱᴏʟᴅɪᴇʀ ʏᴇᴏꜱᴀɴɢ x ᴘᴜᴘᴘʏ ʜʏʙʀɪᴅ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴘᴀʀᴛ 2 ᴏꜰ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ ᴍʏꜱᴇʟꜰ (ᴘᴀʀᴛ 1 ɪꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ)

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ꜱᴍᴜᴛ|ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ|ᴜɴᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ꜱᴇx|ᴠᴀɴɪʟʟᴀ ꜱᴇx|ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴋ*ʟʟɪɴɢ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ, ꜱʜᴏᴏᴛɪɴɢ||ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ɪꜱ ᴅʏɪɴɢ|ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ:3ᴋ

"Recently, law enforcement dismantled a human trafficking operation." Yeosang meticulously read the manuscript in his grasp, articulating the horrific details of this inhumane crime. 

As you reclined on the bed, your heart raced with fear and anxiety, listening intently to Yeosang's words. You were among the fortunate few, rescued by Yeosang after enduring a harrowing week of captivity. 

Despite the brevity of the week, the ordeal was excruciating, surpassing even the agony of death itself. They administer potent drugs designed to induce estrus, ensuring a seamless path to conception. As for those harrowing procedures... you forgot, but the fear is still torturing you. 

'Knock─' A gentle rap on the door drew you from your reverie. "Come in," you beckoned, as Yeosang stepped inside, a radiant smile gracing his features. "Hello, Y/N. How are you feeling?" "I'm okay, thanks." Throughout your time in the hospital, he will grace you with his presence nearly every day, save for those occasions when work calls him away. 

Although your relationship is more like that between a caregiver and a patient. He constantly reminds you to take care of your health, especially now that you're expecting. Regardless of everything, he is the father of your child, the one who knotted you on that day. 

He set a beautifully crafted lunch box upon your table, releasing an enticing aroma that tantalized your senses. "Awww~It's tteokbokki!!" You knew what that was by only smelling it. After all, you were a puppy. "Your sense of smell is as good as ever." "Of course~" Your fluffy ears and tail popped up while he was unpacking the bag. "Don't eat too fast. It's hot." "Orch!" No surprise, you were scalded slightly as you directly put it in your mouth. 

"Are your ears used as decorations?" You gave him a death look as he played your ears. "I'll bite you." "No, you can't. You're too slow." Well, he was right. As a puppy, you ran much slower than others of your kind. "And I'm a Doberman." "Okay,okay." You nodded helplessly. 

That is your only conversation after he enters the room. A heavy silence envelops you both, as if an invisible barrier has been erected. You yearn to spark a conversation, to bridge the distance, but his replies are always frosty, suggesting a reluctance to engage. He fulfills his obligations—picking up the things you need, accompanying you on walks—but the chasm between you remains unfilled, a constant reminder of the disconnect.

"I have to work tonight. I gotta go now." He collects his belongings, and you give a slight nod. "Make sure you don't overeat and get some good rest." His daily mantra echoes in your ears, and you nod once more. "See you later." You wave as he walks away. A sigh escapes your lips; you long for deeper conversations, not just the usual reminders and goodbye. "Baby, do you think he dislikes me?" You gently stroke your small, rounded belly, lost in contemplation.

Yeosang feels the same way, craving deeper conversations. Yet, there's a tinge of guilt in his longing. He should be your protector, not the source of your distress. His introverted nature makes social interactions challenging for him, and he takes his time to open up. Unfortunately, he never anticipated that this would only widen the gap of misunderstanding between you two.

After a restless night of tossing and turning, you decide to take a stroll. Nestled on the mountainside, the hospital stands in a tranquil, sparsely populated area, making it an ideal spot for healing. At the base of the mountain lies a beach, where the gentle sea breeze caresses your face as you wander along the winding trails.

Strolling along the deserted path that leads to the beach, the sound of your shoes tapping against the pavement echoes in the stillness. A chill hangs in the air, and the streetlights above cast an eerie flicker. You pull your arms tightly around yourself, regretting not having grabbed a jacket before stepping out.

"Why is it so chilly? Yeosang is definitely going to scold me" Perhaps it's best to retreat to your room for a soothing warm bath. Just as you decide to turn back, a noise catches your attention. It's a soft, distant sound that sends a shiver down your spine, halting you in your tracks.

"Is anyone there?" you shouted into the silence. But there is no reply. 

Your heart races as you scan the surroundings. The emptiness is palpable, yet an unsettling tension prickles at the nape of your neck. A cold shiver coursed through your body. Then, the sound returned, more pronounced this time—a deep, menacing growl.

You have to run but your legs give up because of fear. 

"Oh let's see who I have found here." A seriously injured werewolf comes out from the shadow, approaching step by step, baring its teeth and growling dangerously. 

"Remember who I am?" He asks with a low growl, making you shocked. "Forget? It doesn't matter. You're supposed to be my mate, dear." You finally remember, the day when Yeosang saved you, this werewolf was going to breed you but stopped by Yeosang. 

"Don't you die? I remember…" You stammer, taking a step back. "But luckily, someone saved me. It doesn't matter who did it but you're the matter, y/n."

"No, get away from me." "Can you run from me?" As you turn away to run, he grabs your waist to pull you into his embrace and covers your mouth with his hand,  making you unable to escape. "That cop chose a good hospital and I can catch you easily." 

"He knots you?" The scent belonging to Yeosang fills his nose as he buries his face on your neck, making him let out a chuckle. "Then there is no difference between him and me. But you're mine. I should be the one who knot you." You shake your head intensely as a non-verbal begging, tears welling up in your eyes. 

"What if he finds his mate lost his knot and his lovely baby?" He whispers against your ears, his claw trailing down to your tummy. Your cries are muffled, replaced by meaningless syllables.

"It must be fun to see him cry, isn't it?"

—----

"Is it a gift for Y/N?" Wooyoung asks, gazing at the beautiful silk box on Yeosang's hand. "Yah, she said she loved flowers." That is a rose gold ring with a stunning camellia. You want it for so long when you see it on the internet and Yeosang remembers all the words you said. 

"You want to marry her?" Wooyoung's unexpected inquiry takes Yeosang by surprise, causing a flush to creep across his cheeks. "No, no. We..." He finds himself at a loss for words. Yes, he should take responsibility, providing all the best to you for make-up. He can't help but question if that's truly what you desire. The last thing he wants is to impose his will on you.

The pager's abrupt announcement shattered the air in the car, interrupting their conversation with a jarring urgency. "Colleagues nearby, please head to KQ hospital." Yeosang's heart plummeted, dread pooling in his stomach. "Y/N? Please be okay," he whispered, urgency propelling the driver toward the hospital. 

A chilling sense of foreboding settled in his chest. Upon their arrival, the news of your disappearance hit him like a freight train. He can no longer restrain himself; he follows the faint trace of your scent, racing down the path where you had vanished. His sanity teeters on the edge; unlike the last time when substances had clouded his mind, this is driven by raw, unyielding emotion. The thought of you suffering again drives him to the brink. No, he swears to himself, he would never let that happen.

Sweat dripped down his forehead, mingling with the tears he couldn't hold back. His heart pounded in his chest, matching the pace of his feet as he frantically searched for any sign of you.

The forest was eerily quiet, save for the distant chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves beneath his feet. Yeosang's mind raced with worst-case scenarios, each one more terrifying than the last. He called out your name, his voice echoing through the trees, but there was no answer, only the eerie silence that seemed to mock his desperation.

The path grew narrower and steeper, forcing Yeosang to slow his pace. He strained his eyes, scanning the underbrush for any sign of movement, but the forest remained still and silent. Suddenly, he caught a glimpse of something through the trees—your clothes. 

"Y/N!" he shouted, his heart leaping with hope. He pushed through the last few yards of brush and emerged into a small clearing. And there you were, lying on the ground, unconscious and pale.

Yeosang's heart skipped a beat as he rushed to your side. He knelt down, gently brushing the hair from your face. Your skin was cool to the touch, and your breathing was shallow and ragged. He feels a surge of panic as he realizes how close you are to slipping away.

"Please, stay with me," he whispers, taking your hand in his. "I'm here now. I'll take care of you." 

"There you are, damn werewolf." Without a moment's hesitation, Yeosang yanks a gun from his pocket and fires into the shadows, the echo of the shot piercing the night and drawing a terrified scream from the man lurking there. "Did you really think I wouldn't track you down?" He unleashes a barrage of bullets, each one finding its mark, leaving the would-be attacker powerless against his fury.

"I should have made sure you were dead before! How dare you lay a finger on her again!" Yeosang strides toward the creature, his aim steady as he targets its forehead, pulling the trigger until his weapon is empty. Breathing heavily, he casts a lethal glare at the fallen beast before turning his attention back to you.

"The knot is…?!" His heart pounds like a freight train as he senses the void within you, rage threatening to consume him. But his focus sharpens on one goal: getting you out of this forest and to safety. He scoops you up into his arms, determined to rush you back to the hospital.

Yeosang cradles you close, whispering words of comfort and reassurance. All the memories you spend together flash throughout his mind, he can't imagine if he lost you again. "Please stay with me, Y/N." He feels your hand tighten around his, and a small smile tugs at the corners of your lips. It is a fleeting moment, but it is enough to give him hope.

When you arrive at the hospital, the doctors rushes you away for treatment. Yeosang waited anxiously in the waiting room, pacing back and forth and praying for your recovery. Hours pass, and finally, a doctor emerges to give him an update.

"I'm sorry to tell you that she had a miscarriage," the doctor said, making Yeosang almost collapse . "She suffered some major injuries and dehydration, but with proper care, she'll make a full recovery." Yeosang nods as the doctor leaves, he enters your room and sees you are lying on the bed weakly. 

"I'm so sorry, Y/N." He grips your hand, resting his forehead against it, tears spilling down his face. "I'm really thankful you're here." You murmur softly, but Yeosang shakes his head in denial. 

"No, I shouldn't leave you like this. I need to be right here with you."

"But you have work to do. You didn't mean to leave."

"No, that's not an excuse." Yeosang meets your gaze with regret and sadness. " I feel terrible for not keeping my promise. If you need to scream at me or even hit me, go ahead. But please know that I truly feel sorry for you." His sobs come out in broken breaths, revealing a depth of emotion you never expected. It's astonishing how well he had hidden his true feelings.

"I don't know you can say that much." You make a joke, letting out a chuckle but accidentally cause yourself hiss at the pain. 

"Are you okay? Do I need to call the doctor?" Yeosang asks as he stands up straight to check if you get hurt. "It's okay. Just relax." "How can I relax? You are mis…" He stops, clutching his fist. 

"I know…" You trail off, a sadness creeping in. "And also the knot…" A hush envelops you both once more. The bond that once tied you together has unraveled, granting you both the freedom to part ways. Yet, Yeosang clings to your hand, fully aware of the reality, having grown accustomed to your presence and the comfort it brings. But of course, he would let you go if you wanted to. 

"Y/N?" You gaze at him as he retrieves a small box from his pocket and gently places it in your palm. As you lift the lid, a stunning ring sparkles back at you. "Isn't this what I want for so long…?!" He nods, a shy smile spreading across his face, and replies, "I knew you'd love it, so I got it for you." "Is this your way of confession?" Your question takes him by surprise, and a deep blush creeps across his cheeks.

"No?Then I give it back to you." 

"No, no, no. How can I take the present back?" 

"I didn't say I received it." 

"So…" He nervously rubs against his nape, stammering. "Do you like me?" Oh gosh, his brain can't function well, causing him to say something weird. 

"Huh?" You smirk helplessly. 

"Ah, I mean…ahh.." 

"Yes, I like you." "Huh?" Yeosang doesn't expect you to confess to him directly. "Don't you ask me?"  He bites his bottom lip, unable to hold his smile. 

"Or you don't like me?" 

"I didn't say that. I of course like you." 

"Then can I ask you a question?" He nods, holding you tightly. "Can you knot me again?" He gazes at you for a while then cups your face, plating a kiss on your lips. "After you make a full recovery." 

—----

"Is it okay for you?" He eased into you slowly, making sure you're not feeling any pain. "I'm okay." As you encircle his shoulder with your arms, you draw him in for a passionate kiss. Today marks a month since your release from the hospital, and now you've settled in with Yeosang, who had persistently invited you to stay with him until you finally said yes. You never anticipated his overwhelming protectiveness and possessiveness, but honestly, it doesn't bother you at all. 

He showers you with all his love, being so clingy that he can't even leave you alone for too long. After all, he won't let the mistake repeat again. 

Burying his face in the crook of your neck, he peppers your neck with kisses, his tongue tracing over your skin, occasionally nipping gently. He intertwines with your fingers as he slides into the deepest, slightly hitting your g spot, making you let out a small moan. 

"You smile so good, honey." You love how he praises you, it makes you feel joy. "More, sangie." "Take me so well. You're so good for me." His cock rubs against your wall deliciously, filling you so full. You can't help but hold your breath when he thrusts so deep but not painful at all. 

"Please harder, Sangie." He withdraws his hips until only the tip is inside your cunt, then thrusts back with a great force, creating a loud skin slapping sound each time his ball hits your ass. Throwing your head at the back, you pant and bent your legs more to allow him to shove into you easier. "You're so tight, god." Keep tightening your velvet wall around his cock, he can't help but let out a deep growl. It is too amazing that he may just cums if you keep doing this. 

"I may not last long, dear." His thrusting becomes faster and steady, rubbing against your clit with his pelvis. Your whole body trembles with each of his thrust, your mouth falling into an 'O' form, letting out a long-throaty moan. He flips you over after withdrawing from you for a second, pushing back to your soaked cunt that mixed with his pre cum and your juices. 

"Hmm…" "Hold on, love." His hand sneaks down to your chest, squeezing them while pumping into you with such a force. "Gosh, Sangie." "Feel good?" "Ah, yes." Your face lands on the pillow and suppresses your moaning, the way he batters your sweet spot causes your limbs to go weak as you can feel your intimate space wide open and he shoves into it. "Yeosang ah!" "You can take it, just hold on." It's so painful and you're not realize it before because of drugs. 

At first, the pain feels almost unbearable, but gradually it transforms into a wave of pleasure that washes over you. Both of you let out deep moans, your scents intertwining in the air. Time loses all meaning as the energy between you surges, an unending cycle of movement; sometimes he holds you close, sometimes he turns you around, and at other moments, you find yourself on top, riding the rhythm together.

"I'm cumming!" Yeosang holds you tight as his chest presses against yours, pushing upward to make you arch your back. With a few powerful thrust, he cums and bites your neck, finishing the marking and knotting you. Catching your breath, you both lost in the pleasure and let out a chuckle, his cock twitches inside you causing you to squirm because of overstimulation. 

"Are you okay?" You nod, resting your head on his shoulder as he kisses your cheek. "I love you, Sangie." This is your first time to say you love him, making him feel touched. He plants a kiss on your lips for a while, making a bob sound when he parts from it. "I love you too, y/n."

[wandixx]

Ghost of fries and Hero of cookies part 3

All work words count: 14 643

Words in this part: 3 056

Summary of whole work: Duke wasn't expecting to wake up from his quick rooftop nap to some meta kid with fries. He also wasn't expecting kid to stay

Or

Danny asked Dani to stay safe while she was in Gotham. Where would she be safer than under the wing of local hero? And he looked like he needed bad day combo anyway

This part summary: Joker goons are in for an orange surprise and Duke does not like it in the slightest

Beta read by @audhumla-sailor though English is second language for both of us, so proceed with this in mind. I also know all of the charaters through fics alone, so probably ooc. Stay catious if it's something you don't like

First part, Previous part

trigger warnings: gun violence, panic attacks, dissociation, mentions of Joker gas and what it doeas to people (tell me if i missed something, I'll add it)

Duke was having quite a good day. His schoolwork finally got lighter and up until now nothing notable happen on his patrol. Obviously, couldn’t have Gotham without at least one mugging and bank and corner shop robbery. About the last thing, if it was chain store he would conveniently arrive too late to stop it and just follow up to make sure cashier didn’t get fired. He used to be intimately close with hardships of getting necessary supplies like food or gas masks while corporate assholes were trying to suck people dry. But it was family business so he actually had to step in. He did mention secure way of getting resources to would be robbers though. All in all, not so bad, pretty good day. As for now, he was swinging on grapple to meet with Dani, armed with healthy snack Alfred demanded he took for her when he got texted on his Signal-work-phoneTM. It meant important business 90% of the time, so he stopped to check it out. Other 10% were memes from Dani that usually were worth it anyway.

Got it in one, Hoopoe texted. He opened chat expecting funny video or something instead to be greeted by:

Dani: Hey Signal

Dani: Peple aint spossedf t get out f Arkham

Dani: Amirite?

His stomach dropped. He wished it was hypothetical question but he knew better than to believe such fantasies. Things didn’t go so well in Gotham, especially not with Hoopoe.

You: Yeah, your right. What’s up?

You: You’re*

Dani: Nerd

Dani: Whatre you’re thots on clowns

Dani: ?

His stomach officially landed at his feet and decided it wasn’t enough dropping and ended up on a street below. Even if Joker was still locked up, his goons being active were bad news.

You: Where are you?

You: Hoopoe, where are you?

Dani: Clm dow I ned to chek

Dani: I have ni ieda

Dani: The box building rod

Dani: roof*

Dani: Warehouse?

Dani: That the wors

Dani: I think

You: There are over 1000 warehouses in Gotham

Dani: Idk wht yu want me totll yu

Dani: Therere other warehous arond?

You: Okay

You: Check corners for symbol and number

Back in the day everyone other than Bruce decided to take part in a challenge to count all of the warehouses in Gotham manually. They each got their sector and graffiti spray to mark counted buildings. Later it kinda turned into a way of identifying them. 

Dani: Red blb with too wite dots

Dani: #83

Okay, he wasn’t too far. He risked roof hopping and checking texts to make sure she didn’t try anything stu-

Dani: Im goin in

You: No!

You: Stay where you are!

You: Hoopoe!

You: Hoopoe!

Dani: Calm down worrywart

Dani: Jus wante ti get ab look

Dani: Invisible

Dani: M not dump

I doubt it

You entered building with Joker’s goons with no back-up or plan. It’s extremely dangerous

Dani: Yeah, yeah don care

Dani: 5 goons in clown masks

Dani: Maks idk wat of

Dani: Not northern hemisphere of sky for sure

Dani: Weird containter s

Dani: Ari smells funny

Dani: Giggly i guess

Dani: U prbl know better

You: Get out of there

You: NOW!

You: Try not breathing it in

Dani: K

Dani: Ill stop brething then

You: GET OUT!

Dani: K

Dani: Why so agressive

Because Duke knew what Joker gas could do to person. He knew how it took wonderful people (like his parents) and left shells wand shadows of who they used to be. Because every gas release left him with panic attack. Because he knew it was more dangerous than even some vigilantes thought it was.

You: Wait until I get there

Dani: K

He almost tripped with how much he tried to speed up.

Dani was actually vibrating when he arrived but stayed quiet. Good. If she breathed in some Joker gas it wasn’t working dose yet. Duke had deep feeling not even Alfred’s cookies would be enough to deter her from entering. Offering her a granola bar he sat at the edge of the roof with bone deep sigh. Girl took snack eagerly, bouncing around like puppy high on caffeine.

“How about we take a note of this happening and get going? Other Bats are better equipped to deal with this,” They weren’t but he didn’t want Dani anywhere near this mess. He himself didn’t want to be anywhere near it either.

Kid got deadly still, staring at him as if she could read his deepest secrets if she looked hard enough.

“They’re scaring you” she whispered with strong feeling but Duke had trouble reading what feeling was it. He put his face in his hands for a moment. How was he even supposed to answer that?

“Joker is one of the most dangerous people in Gotham and these guys are working for him. They have guns. Of course I’m a little scared”

Judging by the face Dani made, she wanted to call him out on his bullshit but thought better of it. She floated to sit next to him, swallowing granola in few bites.

“My friend Johnny mentioned him,” she started between chewing ”he said ‘bastard murdered my baby bro Jay and Jay knew his way in fight, stay away from him Dani’. Normally Johnny isn’t so careful”

“All more reasons to leave it for others!” Duke almost shouted, hope growing in his chest. Maybe he could steer her away from it!

“He also told me to hit him if I happen to meet him. He would owe me ‘big one’ then. Do you think I could get ‘small one’ for couple of goons?!”

“Hoopoe no!”

Girl looked thoughtful and after over two weeks of working together he learned to fear this expression.

“Whatever you’re thinking, no. I’ll buy you biggest fries, just leave this–” he waved vaguely at the warehouse hoping it would get message across “–whole mess alone” There was lump in his throat.

Dani haven’t abandon whatever thought got her like that and nodded to herself few time. She drifted around a bit, shifted under her way too long cloak and finally settled with a soft smile.

“You’re scared… Terrified. You’re terrified of them,” she started calmly, like she would talk to a victim if she actually knew how to do it ”It’s okay. It’s great. Fear is what keeps humans alive,” she nodded as if she recounted something from textbook properly in front of the class “But I’m not scared and I fought people much stronger than them and I’m even better now thanks to you. If you’re so terrified, it means they need to be dealt with and it needs to be done fast. It’s okay,” her grin from soft turned devilish “I was itching for some fun fight anyway”

“Dani-”

“It’ll be quick, I promise,” she said, serious again “Don’t worry,” she stood up, saluted and fell through the roof, all too fast to react or not miss it with a blink. Frankly, it caught Duke so off guard he couldn’t even move for a few seconds after the whole ordeal anyway. He threw himself down to the nearest window as soon as he regained control over his body. His heart was stuck in his throat.

Dani tackled first goon with delighted giggle right when he crashed inside. He checked if his mask was secure on reflexes he plummeted towards the ground, moving his body to land safely on top of the shelf. Warehouses were weird place to fight. Easy to get vantage point like Duke just did but was also hard in a way. Little space made it hard to use wider streaks, easy get backed into corner. Annoying more than anything.

Dani’s wrestling match was so attention grabbing that nobody even looked at Duke, despite his far from subtle arrival. He threw himself forward when he caught telltale shine of the gun in one of goons hands. It was dumb move when Dani was so close to his ally, but who he was to criticize Joker goon’s live choices. It didn’t take Signal long to understand he wouldn’t make it on time. He had to but there was no-

Two gunshots rang in rapid succession split second before Duke got to the goon and, with swiftness granted only by adrenaline and fury people got when someone their got hurt, knocked man out cold. Before body could hit the ground he spun around to see the damage because Dani still refused to wear any armor and from this close goon would have to be Storm Trooper to miss her. Because she was most likely bleeding heavily. What if they hit something instantly lethal?

He faced a fight right in time to see Dani jumping at another goon also openly wielding a gun. He wanted to yell at her but bullets were fired before he got a chance. He looked for blood dripping from her torso while dodging another man  barely taking his eyes off Dani.

“That wasn’t nice,” she sounded like she pouted! At being shot! “If I was anyone else I would be seriously hurt right now, you know?” her voice was somewhat off. Like it wasn’t quite made by her vocal cords but some awkward voice generator.

Before the appalled man could react, he got technically not too good right hook to the jaw. It was strong enough to make him unconscious and get quite loud creak out of his neck. Duke hoped Dani didn’t mess up the guy's spine. He was criminal but he didn’t deserve this type of treatment.

Duke focused back on his own fight when he made sure that girl wasn’t in immediate danger of dying. He dodged running goon again, who literally ran himself into the shelf because of that. Signal used his short confusion to hit him in the side of his neck, rendering the opponent unconscious. Okay, they made it, this was the last-

Another gunshot made his sped-up heart skip a beat. Lump in his throat suffocated him.

No, no, no, no, no-

“I shot you in the face!”

 He looked her way ready to see unmoving body and red decorating concrete floor.

“There was a good quip for- oh right” she started cheerfully, entirely unharmed, before her face twisted into something actually demonic.

“Y̶o̸u̵r̵ ̶p̵e̶s̴k̶y̵ ̴l̷i̷t̶t̸l̶e̸ ̵b̷u̸l̴l̴e̶t̷s̵ ̴w̸o̴n̵'̸t̵ ̵h̶u̵r̶t̸ ̸m̷e̶, ₥ØⱤ₮₳Ⱡ₴”

She laughed in distinctly Dani way, all bright and joyful while also so not like herself, distorted and echoey it mage hairs at the back of his neck stand.

Duke froze when goon fired again and there was no way she dodged it. There was not enough space. She had to get shot. She got shot and he did nothing to stop it. A child got hurt because of him-

He looked at but hadn’t quite seen how Dani knocked out last goon and flew up to him. He heard her voice but words were impossible to understand over rush of blood in his ears. He could tell she was laughing. They should get out. Dani mentioned giggly smell in the air. It had to mean Joker gas. They needed to be out yesterday.

He stumbled a bit, forcing his leg to cooperate, half caring, half dragging girl to the nearest exit point. Fact that he could touch her and didn’t feel any blood was grounding a bit.

“-gnal, Signal are you okay? Your heart is beating weird,” Dani asked, sounding a bit scared for the first time today. Duke’s brain felt too fuzzy to care “Signal, you’re freaking out, calm down, please”

Light assaulted their eyes the moment they were out. Before he got fully used to it, he set girl in front of him and detached her cape. She may have squawked at this action but he didn’t care. She was shot, he needed to check her for injuries.

She got shot, she got shot, she got shot-

“Signal what-” he was clearly freaking her out “Oh. You think I’m hurt. I told you I could handle it. I’m fine. Signal I’m really fine. I have intangibility, bullets can’t hurt me. I’m fine Signal”

Duke wanted to make sure. Adrenaline or simple wish to not worry him could make her ignore something. He couldn’t let her. He made her turn maybe a little to roughly.

He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if she bled out.

She was actually fine.

Relief hit him so strong he crumbled against the wall, his mind finally succumbing to the haze. It was fine. It was all actually fine.

He may have heard some yelling.

Next thing he registered was something tad too warm, almost burning his palms. His gloves did their job of protection well though. There was a herbal smell. Melissa, he registered after a moment. It took him some more time to realize that the source of the smell was in his hands. He had scathingly hot cup of melissa in his hands. He stared at a little bit squashed paper again trying to get used to the light. He didn’t even realize he closed his eyes. Sound of the paper bag made him look up where Dani, still without her cape, crouched few feet away from him.

“You back?” she asked cautiously. Duke wasn’t sure how to answer. He was and he wasn’t. His mouth didn’t work anyway. He shrugged, mindful of the cup in his hands. Blanket, he didn’t even know he was wrapped in, fell from one of his shoulders.

“I don’t know what happened but Jazz likes this tea when she needs to calm down. Though she usually needs to drink it to make it work,” Dani rambled, gesturing widely “You’re still breathing kinda funny, can you slow down? It’s not good for humans to breathe so fast. It doesn’t let good stuff from air get in your blood and travel around your body and it’s not healthy. I know, Jazz told me and she is really smart. She wants to be this doctor who stabs brain back into working. She had this smart word for it… Neurosurgeon, I think it’s this one. She said breathing like that is not good for brain so slow down? In for four, out for four? I don’t know, Signal, just calm down?”

Right, he still was hyperventilating. Duke focused on his lungs, forcing them to expand, trying to match up Dani’s slightly gasping breaths.

He really was freaking her out, wasn’t he?

Melissa was almost lukewarm by the time he was back in his body enough to drink it. It was sweet, a bit too much for his taste.

“You good now?” Dani asked and Duke nodded. He was as good as he could at the moment “Great, I didn’t want to leave you for too long so I don’t have BatBurger. I got cookies though. And I can go get it now”

“Don’t,” he caught her arm and squeezed, not sure why he did it himself.

“Huh?”

“Don’t go anywhere”

“Sure. Wanna cookie? I have chocolate chips and healthy, wheat ones”

“Chocolate”

“Okay” she nodded and fixed blanket on his arms. It was comfy. If Duke was firing on all cylinders, he would wonder where she got it.

“Don’t ever do it again”

“What is it though?”

“Jumping into danger like that”

“Oh, really? It wasn’t that dangerous, they were normal humans”

“They had Joker gas and guns”

“Intangibility means I can ignore bullets Signal, don’t be such worrywart. It’s bad for your health. What’s Joker gas?”

Question and the whole statement felt so surreal that Duke couldn’t help but laugh, choked and hysterical as it was. She didn’t know what Joker gas was. Worrying about her getting shot was bad for his health. He just had a panic attack and was comforted by a ten years old girl with cookies and melissa. What the fuck?

“Hey!” Dani pouted “Don’t laugh like that! Jazz always says that you shouldn’t laugh when someone doesn’t know something, just explain it to them! Signal!” she whined but the damn broke he couldn’t rear his hysteria back in “Alright, I’m Googling it”

She did as Duke’s laughter winded down. He was almost calm when she deemed her research enough.

“Alright, this is some nasty shit”

This sentence startled him into full silence. Dani was ten, swearing wasn’t something she did, like, ever. He must’ve scared her a lot.

“I’m fine though. I didn’t breathe it in. Did you? This laughter sounded a bit worrying to be honest”

“I’m okay, I had gas mask. People sometime laugh to release tension”

“Oh”

“Yeah. But you were in the building with it and didn’t have gas mask”

“I wasn’t breathing”

“You were talking”

“Our fucked up biology, as Danny likes to put it, means that one doesn’t mean another. I just don’t use it often because humans find it uncanny and my throat gets itchy after some time”

Something in Duke wanted to argue more but it was squashed but utter exhaustion that crashed him.

“Alright”

They sat for a long moment.

“Are you ready to patrol now?”

Duke would laugh again if he had any energy left.

“I think we should end for today. I would be useless like that”

“Okay, valid. You go home I’ll fly around a bit”

“No. You’re going home too. I don’t have enough emotional energy to worry about you getting into some mess like this again”

They stared at each other for a long moment before Dani looked away with angry huff.

“Okay. You’re worse than Danny, you know?”

“I don’t care. Go home and stay safe”

“You sure you will be alright if I go now? I can walk or fly you somewhere, not home if you don't want me to but maybe somewhere closer?”

“I’ll be fine. I can call my brother. Just go please”

“Sure. See you tomorrow, Signal. You were really brave today”

“Thank you, Hoopoe” If she answered, he didn’t hear her. He fumbled with his comm to turn it on with still shaky hands. Finally he managed and called a pick up in the form of Jason. It was great to have older brother who always had time like that. Even if it meant a lot of unnecessary questions about what happened Duke wasn’t up to answering it yet and threats of serious violence on his enemies.

Duke couldn't force himself to let go of the orange blanket. It was grounding.

Though Alfred made him hot chocolate with marshmallows. He wouldn’t repeat today for that, but it certainly was nice accent.

*********

"Humouristic" summary of this part

Dani: Yo, there are goons here. Gonna investigate.

Duke: *quietly freaks out*

Random Joker's goons: *do normal goon things*

Dani: *attacks them* HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Duke: Is this what minor heart attack feels like?

Goons: *start shooting*

Duke: Is this what major heart attack feels like?

Dani: Dude, you good? Here, get some tea, cookies and blanket

*

Dani, few hours later, texting: Hey Signal, remeber to bring back my cape tmrw

Duke, internally: Wait, this is her cape?

Duke, also texting: Wanna better one? Like Spoiler has?

Dani, somehow conveing Ghost Speak via text: Don't you dare

Thank you for reading this <3

Next part

[astroa3h]

chiron through the houses 🥲

Chiron, often referred to as the "Wounded Healer" in astrology, represents our deepest wounds from childhood and the challenges we face, but also our greatest potential for healing. It's like that one thing that keeps tripping us up, but also teaches us the most valuable lessons. Each house in astrology represents a different area of life, and where Chiron falls can reveal a lot about our childhood and the kind of challenges we might face.

1st House (The House of Self): If Chiron is in your first house, as a kid, you might have felt invisible or misunderstood. Picture this: you're trying to express who you are, but it feels like no one gets it. Maybe you were bullied for being different, or you just felt like an outsider. This can lead to a lifelong journey of self-discovery, where you learn to embrace your uniqueness and stop trying to fit into someone else's box.

2nd House (The House of Value): Chiron in the second house? Money and self-worth issues could have been a big theme in your childhood. Maybe your family struggled financially, or you felt you had to earn love and approval. It's like you're always trying to prove your worth, but deep down, you struggle with feeling good enough. The lesson here is learning that your value isn't tied to your bank account or what others think of you.

3rd House (The House of Communication): Here, Chiron might have made communication a challenge. Perhaps you were super shy, had a speech issue, or just felt like no one listened to you. It's like you had all these thoughts and ideas, but expressing them was a whole other story. The journey is about finding your voice and realizing that what you have to say matters.

4th House (The House of Home and Family): This one's tough. Chiron in the fourth house can mean there were some deep wounds related to home life or family. Maybe there was instability, or you just never felt like you belonged. It's the kind of stuff that can make you feel alone in a crowded room. Healing comes from creating your own sense of home and belonging, often very different from your upbringing.

5th House (The House of Creativity and Pleasure): Childhood might have been lacking in fun and spontaneity if Chiron was here. Maybe you were forced to grow up too fast or your creative talents were dismissed. Youth most likely felt very serious and heavy. It's like you were always yearning for a carefree moment but never got it. The path to healing is about reconnecting with your inner child and allowing yourself to play and create without judgment.

6th House (The House of Health and Service): Chiron here could mean health issues or a sense of duty that weighed on you as a kid. Perhaps you had to care for others or your own health was a constant concern. It's like you never got to just be a kid because there were always responsibilities or worries. Healing involves learning to care for yourself and realizing it's okay to put your needs first sometimes.

7th House (The House of Partnerships): Relationships might have been a source of pain in childhood with Chiron in this house. Maybe you saw unhealthy relationships or experienced early heartbreak. It's like you're always searching for that perfect partner but fear getting hurt. The lesson is learning to find balance in relationships and that it's okay to be vulnerable.

8th House (The House of Transformation): This is a deep one. Chiron in the eighth house can point to experiencing loss or trauma at a young age. It's intense stuff, like dealing with death, or feeling like you've seen too much too soon. The healing journey is about facing these dark experiences and finding strength in the transformation that comes from moving through pain.

9th House (The House of Philosophy and Travel): Here, you might have felt limited or caged in, craving adventure and meaning. Maybe your family had strict beliefs, or you just felt a deep urge to explore but couldn't. Healing comes from broadening your horizons, physically or mentally, and finding your own truth.

10th House (The House of Career and Public Image): Chiron in the 10th house can mean early pressure to succeed or a fear of failure. Perhaps you were pushed into the spotlight or had big shoes to fill. It's like you're always climbing a mountain, trying to prove yourself. The key is to define success on your own terms and realize it's okay not to be perfect.

11th House (The House of Friendships and Hopes): With Chiron here, fitting in might have been the struggle. Maybe you were the odd one out, or your dreams seemed out of reach. It's like you were always on the outside looking in. Healing involves finding your tribe and realizing that your unique perspective is what makes you special.

12th House (The House of the Subconscious and Hidden Things): This is the house of secrets and hidden challenges. Chiron here might mean you had to deal with things no child should have to, often in silence. It's the unseen wounds, the stuff you keep locked away. Healing is about bringing these things into the light, facing them, and finding peace.

xox astro ash

Get your own astrology reading @ astroash.net

TikTok - astroa3h

[simspaghetti]

I always get asks about what mods I use, and as I've been playing World Adventures recently for the Completionist LEPacy challenge, I've been trying to compile some mods specific to that expansion - I thought I'd share all the ones I've found here so anyone else who is new to WA can have some recommendations!

If this ends up being useful to anyone, I'm happy to make one of these mod pack lists for each EP - let me know if that's something you'd like!

Also, if anyone has any more suggestions on mods I should add to this list, please let me know and I'll include them!

Nraas Traveller

This mod overhauls the travel system and allows all types & ages of sims to travel, and also allows travel to any EA or custom world you have installed, not just the 3 standard vacation ones - so your sims could take a vacation in Sunlit Tides or Monte Vista if they want to!

PotatoBalladSims distant terrain fix for France & Qahne's Smaller Eiffel Tower

These mods are both just small aesthetic changes for France, the first one fixes blocky trees in the distance and the second one makes the Eiffel Tower a way more realistic size

TheBleedingWoodland's Shang Simla Icon Fix

This changes Shang Simla's icon to the Forbidden City which is actually located in China

Twinsimming's Take Practice Shots Mod

The photography skill can be so tedious to level up as you have to take photographs manually, this mod makes it much easier as you can leave your sims to idlly practice photography like they can do with any other skill

OutOfIdeas' More Unique Adventures Per Day

I was having a big problem where I would go to a country in search of a specific adventure to unlock a tomb & have to return home 8 days later, having nothing come up on the adventure board during my sims stay - this mod fixes that annoying problem as it allows for more adventures to appear each day, there are several flavours to choose from so it's totally customisable with how 'cheaty' you want to go!

NanaBx3's fishing box chest fix

There used to be a small chance that sims would reel in a treasure box when going fishing, but the feature got borked in one of the patches years ago and was never fixed - this mod makes it more likely you will come across this cool feature, it features additional items to be discovered in treasure boxes if WA is installed

LowMotivesWarning's Not-So-Weak Mummies

This ups the athletic ability of mummies & likelihood of your sim getting cursed to make them much more dangerous & threatening

StrexSims More Townies for Vacation Worlds

This is not technically a mod as it's a pack of sims, but it basically allows for more of the sims walking around town to fit in with the aesthetics of that neighbourhood - if you like this pack I strongly recommend checking out this creator's other townie packs, as they've released them for most EA worlds!

Nectar Combinatorics

Minor improvement to the nectar-making skill that makes it more user-friendly, adds the option to experiment with random fruit until your sim works out some good combinations - then they can just add garuanteed 'good' fruit combinations to the machine rather than endlessly experimenting with fruit to find out what combos work

[Requires Late Night] Default Replacement Nectar Glass

Replaces the nectar tumbler glass with a much nicer looking wine glass, this does require LN to work otherwise the glass will be invisible!

[hotxcheeto]

I remember you having a Rachel Amber strap-on prompt in your brainrot list. I've come requesting it >:) How about a shy female reader with a hidden love for adult toys using them on Rachel? I love your work btw :)))

━ 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐋 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨) - Rachel Amber x Fem!Reader

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 - Smut, mentions of kissing, strap on use + v penetration ( rachel receiving ), best friends to something?, cursing

𝙥��𝙤𝙤𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 ? - Yeah/Nope

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 - thank you!!

There were garments riddled along the ground, Rachel standing half in your closet while tossing things that she deemed 'deplorable' to fashion behind her.

She was purging your closet and there was no way you were stopping her.

She'd gained a look in her hazel eyes that told you she was determined to get to the bottom of each pile of clothing you had. Taking things and tossing them into different piles that she had labeled in her mind all while you sat and watched her.

Laying on your stomach while resting your hand in your palm. All the while she was battling it out with ugly patterned shirts and the many pairs of sweatpants you owned.

"God, you have no clue about any trends these days. It's truly a pity."

It was Rachel, you had to expect the dramatics.

"A pity? Who do you think I am?" You joked, rolling onto your back and putting your arm over your eyes. "Someone with the worst fashion taste I've ever seen."

You snorted, listening to her continue to rummage and mutter to herself. The sounds of shirts and jeans being thrown are the only other sound besides your breaths. You were beginning to wonder what you'd be wearing for the rest of the week judging by how much she planned on donating and selling.

The rustling slowed and it seemed she'd found a target, a few grunts coming from her before she rattled the door and stepped back.

"What's this?" You tilted your head up at that, watching her shake a black shoebox that instantly made your stomach drop and your heart fall to your ass.

Fuck.

You had about three seconds to decide if you were going to absolutely snatch it away and throw it out your window for the squirrels to find and spend the rest of your life denying what was in it.

Or...

let her open it and see the horrors that awaited her on the other side of the cardboard lid that had looked like it'd seen better days.

Times up.

You got up faster than she'd ever seen you move, she wasn't even sure you'd ever walked that fast in your life. The box in your hands before another breath had come in or out of her lungs and it was slammed onto your desk and behind your back in an instant.

"It's personal." Your cheeks burned, blush invisible, but hot. Yours ears as well while you avoided looking her in the eyes and instead looked at the ground. "Personal?" "Yeah."

It was like a showdown, and you weren't letting her pass.

"C'mon, can't I get a peek? I'm your best friend after all."

"Nope. Can't guilt trip me into this one Rach."

Again, there was a tense silence that made you feel like you were doomed.

"What kind of freaky shit you got in there?" Her voice peaked with curiosity as she got closer, giggling while you backed up impossibly closer to the desk. "Seriously, it can't be that bad."

Oh it was.

"Just drop it Rachel." For a moment the girl hesitated, noticing how serious you actually were. Your voice quiet, even a bit timid. "Please?"

Her head tilted, arms crossing.

"Is it torture devices? Drugs? Sex toys? Whatever it is, I promise I won't make fun of you. I promise Y/n/n." You didn't move, you didn't even fucking blink and she began to get slightly worried that you had some ones chopped head in that thing.

"No." For a moment Rachel wondered if she should give it up and let you take this one. But she was never one to back down from a challenge, licking her bottom lip.

"Can you at least tell me what's inside? I won't see it, but can I at least know?" Your mind wasn't sure how bad it'd be if you actually told her about the shit you had hiding in the hole of your closet.

"It's just... bed stuff." Her eyebrow raised. "Bed stuff?" "Yeah."

She was very unimpressed, and even a bit more curious than where she'd begun when you'd first snatched the box in the first place.

"Is it your vibrator? I'm pretty sure everyone has one."

You looked away from her, giving away at least one of the items in the container that she was now even more curious to open. Stepping a bit closer as your guard fell in just the slightest at the mention.

Rachel then made her move, smacking the box to the side before you got the chance to stop her or the box from taking a slight tumble. The lid flew at you in hopes of distracting you and out came everything you'd been trying to hide, a slight yelp escaping your throat at the flying lid.

"Whoa." Was all you heard her say, the sudden need to hide and scream crashing over you like a ton of bricks.

Out came a vibrator which she'd been guessing had been in there the entire time. But there was a lot more that she hadn't guessed. Like the giant dick she pulled out that had a harness attached, the girl looking at you for answers while you'd practically collapsed against your wall in horror.

"No fucking way someone has used this on you."

"They haven't." You said, unable to choke the syllables back into your mouth. "No fucking way." She repeated, turning around and raising her eyebrows. "No fucking way, Y/n." You couldn't look at her, staring at the ground with wide eyes.

"You used this on someone!"

"Tell the neighbors, why don't ya."

Rachel continued looking through the box before it fell to the floor and your glittery strap-on was the only thing left in her hand.

"Is it clean?" You looked at her with an emotion that was nearly indescribable. "Yes it's fucking clean." Rachel nodded, looking it over.

"It's cute."

You wanted to implode, covering your face with your hands before moving to collapse on your bed. Not even caring what she did with the thing anymore, you were beginning to believe that breathing was overrated.

The bed dipped not a few seconds after, Rachel's head appearing right beside where yours was pressed into the mattress. Her finger lightly tapping your cheek.

"I didn't know you were into such... things." She giggled, rolling onto her stomach while still trying to peak at your face. "Is it popular with the ladies?"

"Rachel." You moved onto your back, still covering your face with your hands. "Just go home." There was no other choice, you were going to have to move to another country in order to avoid her for the rest of her life.

"But what if I wanted to see what all the fuss was about?" Your hands slammed onto the bed, your face showing clear shock. "I mean, it's huge... you must be popular with the ladies."

You wanted to be popular with the grim reaper.

"Rach?" She grinned at the sound of her nickname, sitting up to lean down towards your face. "You've used it before haven't you?" You paused, almost questioning if what she'd asked was rhetorical. But nothing else came from her lips,

Rachel wanted an answer.

"Yeah..." You responded. Her nail traced your cheekbone. "Like who?" You felt like you were on fire, swallowing hard and watching her focus on her hand. Finally giving you a break from her stare.

She actually wanted you to say it.

"I dunno... my ex?" You said, almost as a question while raising your eyebrow. "Hm.. what about that girl you liked from that art seminar we went to?" You felt your gut swallow up at the mention of her. "Or, that other one from that psych class we took together?"

She paid a lot more attention to your fun times then you realized.

"How good were they?" Rachel's nail continued to trace down your neck, then towards your ear while moving up and around, all while speaking. You were practically hyper focused on the touch, unaware of your lost in headlights appearance.

"Hm?" Then your attention was back on her.

"Okay.. I guess." Your mouth finally parted to answer, tongue then moving over your lips in a nervous reaction to her receiving that news. "Did you like it?" "I mean... at the time."

Rachel moved to sit up once more, pushing her hair off her shoulders and kneeling in front of your pillows. All the while feeling you get up and turn to look at her.

"What-"

"I want you to fuck me with it."

You almost dropped dead and you swore you felt the presence of something supernatural in the room that was coming to take your soul. Your tongue suddenly blocking your throat from making more than a gargled gurgle for speech. This was your best friend.

"Why-"

"Because I wanna know if I'm your best. That and... I wanna see how good you are with that. Y'know, like I've heard from your exes."

You wondered how much else they'd told her, and if she could see you nervously shifting your weight from foot to foot. Or the fact that your throat was so dry you could cough up a cactus.

"You're a little too dressed for that." You were surprised at your own response, standing at the end of the bed with a keen eye resting on her. You wanted to look away though, but it was nearly impossible to not stare right at Rachel Amber.

"Look at you." She slowly smiled, pulling her top up from the bottom, quickly revealing her black bra to you while throwing the item in her hand. "All bossy now." Her hands moved down to her jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them all the while you only respected the art.

"Feeling slightly lonely here, Y/n/n." She sang, squirming from her bottoms as you began to undress down into your underwear. Hand wrapping around the harness of the strap-on while she finally moved to unclip her garment, moving it aside.

And God did she look amazing, her golden skin tone reached down past her neck. Her breasts on display for you, and you only to see as you move on your bed towards her. Her nipples slowly rising as the cooler air circled her, her body leaning backwards as you crept closer.

"You're really pretty." You whispered, sounding a bit like a love-sick fool, though Rachel didn't really seem to mind. "I could say that about both of us." She agreed, deciding she liked both herself and you with less clothes on.

"Are you sure about this?" You interrupted her thoughts, looking down at the bare space between her thighs, you didn't know when she'd stripped from her undergarments, but they were in fact gone.

"I've never been more sure about anything." Was her reply, spreading her legs, opening her glistening cunt to you while you tried not to choke on your own saliva and make it less obvious you couldn't tear away your gaze from her entire existence.

"But won't it be weird after?" She rolled her eyes. "Doesn't every girl have sex with her best friend at least once?" You adjusted yourself as the question poured from her lips, the tip of the fake dick accidentally brushing and pushing against her clit making her let out a warm noise.

"Besides," She continued, reaching down to align yourself with her. "you feel really good and I really want you." Ignoring your burning face and body, you nodded your head and took a deep breath while allowing her to lubricate the cock with herself. Her pupils never tore away from yours while she did so.

"Now just please fuck me, Y/n/n." The sound of your nickname in her sweet voice made you comply so quick it was slightly embarrassing.

The strap slipped in, your eyes locked to the way it disappeared inside of her, moving your hips back and forth in awe. All the while she was trying not to claw at your body, admiring your face and almost wishing she could take a photo of your pussy whipped face.

"More, fuck, more." Your confidence was gaining at your pace, your hands moving down to grip at her hips and thighs while spreading her further. Soft moans slipping out one after another while she reached towards you to grab any part of you that she could.

Settling on your forearms, Rachel watched the way you disappeared inside her again and again, slipping a bit deeper each time. Her juices lathering the silicone and making it easier and easier to fuck her into your pile of pillows.

"Oh shit-" No girl sounded like Rachel, or looked like her for that matter. At least not to you. Rachel Amber was one of a kind, your best friend in the entire world, and now she was the pretty girl getting dicked down in your bedroom by you.

"I k-know w-what you're thin-thinki-ing-" She whimpered, whining when you pulled her closer. "I'm sure you do, Rach." You giggled, acting as if this was just another sleepover with you both.

She wiggled and squirmed in her spot, head falling back as you continued to slam your hips into hers. Skin on skin echoing against your walls and surely tumbling out the window at the same time.

Her nails dug into you, much different from her earlier light, feather touches. Not that you minded, looking at her painted fingertips create little half moons on your flesh.

"Fuck, Rach." She nearly came at the sound of your voice, focusing on your face with everything she could. She wanted to memorize how pretty you looked while deep inside her.

"Any of your exes as good as your best friend?" She asked out of breath as you wiped your forehead, her hand moving down to play with herself. "Huh?"

When she met your eyes they were darker, more focused and a much amount of boldness had infected them.

"Fuck no." You said swiftly, pushing her legs back and pressing them against her causing her to cry out. "Never."

"Don't stop- fuck- m'gonna-" You nodded down to her, allowing Rachel to pull you down and press her forehead against yours. And you began wondering, as she did this, if you were still going to be best friends after you got done making her come on your fake cock.

"Go ahead Rachel... I wanna see you." She herself blushed at your comment, but nothing but blabbered noises followed in response.

Then came her moans that suddenly got much louder, turning into high-pitched noises that sounded pornographic as you listened to her. Smiling to yourself, lips ghosting over hers but you didn't actually kiss her.

That might be too far.

And as you thrusted back and forth, slowing your pace to calm her and yourself down, you thought she was so gorgeous with her half lidded eyes and messy hair.

"Was it what you thought it'd be?" You asked her, backing up and resting your hand against her knee. The other moving to massage her lower belly while she tried to calm her pounding heart.

"You have hella hip game." You tried not to laugh while pulling out of her, rubbing her thigh to make the exit easier on her. Though, she still made a noise at the sensitive emptiness.

"I try." The overbearing suddenness of the empty room mixed with the bareness of you both was nearly breathtaking.

"You just had sex with me and you're still being awkward?" She said, teasing more as you groaned, unclipping the toy and dropping it aside to clean later.

"Well what if you don't wanna be friends with me cause my dick game sucks then I have a reason to be awkward." She playfully slapped your arm as you said this, pushing her golden hair backwards.

"I think your dick game is pretty good, but I need to make sure you don't kiss like a fish." The impending doom feeling suddenly came back at full force, after all of this, you still wanted to faint.

"I mean..." She leaned upwards, her breath warming your mouth. "I don't think I kiss like a fish." You finished in a whisper.

"I'll be the judge of that."

Rachel Amber would be the death of you.

[daisynik7]

HI BELOVED !!! i already requested meet me halfway BUT i also want to request “Mirrors” by Justin Timberlake for Suguru . . maybe angst to fluff ? 😁

Mirrors

Word Count: ~1.1k

cw: friends-to-lovers trope, a little bit of angst, fluff, explicit language

Summary: Suguru Geto, committed to never being committed, has finally met his match: you. When you come to him for comfort after being stood up on a date, he finally decides to make his move.

Author’s Note: Thank you for the request @invisible-mori! I appreciate you! This is a great song for the y2k karaoke party. I hope you like this! Divider by @/saradika.

Suguru Geto gave up on relationships years ago. He figured committing to one person for the rest of his life would eventually become tedious, boring. Besides, it’s easier for him to drift by unattached with all the freedom to do as he pleases.

He won’t deny it though. It’s gets awfully lonely living like this. 

It’s not until he meets you that his mindset begins to change. The two of you started out as friends, meeting by chance one night at a mutual friend’s party. You hit it off immediately; you were drawn to his mysterious charm while he gravitated towards your warmth and bright personality. From the outside, it seemed the two of you were complete opposites. The more you got to know each other, the more you understood how similar you actually are. You’ve been inseparable since. 

Geto was never interested in romantic relationships. Lately, his thoughts have been plagued with fantasies of you. A few weeks ago, you stay at his place after a night of drinking. Usually, he’d sleep on the couch while he lets you take the bed, but this particular night, he decides that it’s big enough for the both of you. It isn’t. Tipsy and desperate for sleep, he doesn’t think twice about cuddling you to prevent you from falling off the edge. He knocks out instantly, finding comfort in the way your body molds to his. In the morning when he’s completely sober, he freaks out at how natural it feels to have you in his arms, wondering what it would be like to have you like this every day. Normally, he wouldn’t linger on acts of intimacy. He’s used to the routine one-night stand to fulfill his sexual needs. But with you, it’s different. You’re different. Maybe he isn’t as frigid and closed-off as he thinks he is. Or maybe it took a worthy contender like yourself to challenge him.

It happens so fast that Geto doesn’t realize it until he’s already in too deep. Tonight, you’re supposed to be going out on a date with some guy you’ve been talking to on one of those dating apps. He doesn’t say it, but Geto thinks it’s pointless. He tries to get you to adopt his philosophy on dating. Deep down, he wants you to be lonely like him. He wants the two of you to be lonely together. The idea that you could leave him for somebody else makes him uncomfortable, to say the least. But he doesn’t say anything. In fact, he wishes you, “Good luck,” on the phone when you tell him you’re off to meet the other man. 

Nearly an hour later, there’s frantic knocking on his door. He answers quickly, uncertain who could be on the other side, surprised to find you, tears streaming down your face, crying. 

Immediately, he wraps his arms around you, holding you tight. It’s second nature at this point. Truth be told, he’s been longing to have you like this since it first happened that one night. Though, his heart aches to see you distraught. His hands massage your back, soothing you. “What happened?”

In between sobs, you manage to say, “He stood me up.”

Geto squeezes you tighter, suppressing the anger erupting in the pit of his stomach. If you asked him to, he’d find this guy and beat the shit out of him. Make him hurt the way he hurt you. But he calms down, focused on consoling you. He leads you to the couch, still holding you, his t-shirt damp with your sniffles. He reaches for the box of tissues on the coffee table, grabbing a few and passing them to you. You take it, blowing into them noisily, wiping your eyes, feeling like a fool. “I’m such an idiot,” you mumble. 

He shakes his head. “He’s the fucking idiot. Not you.”

“It was too good to be true. I should have known from the start it wasn’t going to work out.” You stare down at your lap, catching your breath, Geto’s big hands rubbing you lovingly. You always feel safe with him, like he can protect you from anything. That’s why you came to him for comfort. Why you craved his touch. 

“Those dating apps can be such shit sometimes,” he says. “I wouldn’t trust them anymore if I were you.”

You lean back against the cushions, sighing. “Then how am I supposed to meet someone?”

He follows you, sinking in beside you, shrugging. “Why do you have to meet someone?”

You nudge him in the arm with your elbow. “You might be okay with being a lone wolf, but I’m not. It’s lonely.”

He rests his head on your shoulder. “I’m not lonely. I have you, don’t I?”

Stuttering, you respond, “That’s different. We’re just friends. I want something more.”

He faces you, gazing into your eyes. “Do you want something more with me?”

You shake your head profusely. “No, you’re twisting my words!” As long as you’ve known him, Geto has been committed to remaining uncommitted. The possibility of him being a boyfriend to anyone, let alone you, never existed. However, recently, it feels like the two of you have been slowly teasing that fine line between friendship and something more. At first, you thought it was just your imagination, maybe even wishful thinking. But now, you can’t help noticing the subtle difference in your relationship. “Why are you even thinking that?” you ask, heat surrounding your cheeks, flustered. 

He shrugs once more, smiling, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. “I don’t know. I guess I just like being with you too much. It’s hard for me to imaging you with somebody else. Maybe that makes me a little selfish, I don’t know.”

You readjust in your seat to face him completely, perplexed by this sudden change of tune. You keep reminding yourself in your head that Suguru Geto does not do relationships. “What are you saying?”

He looks at you, scooting in closer, holding your hand in his. “I’m saying that maybe we should give this a shot. You and me. Something more.” The words spill out of him on instinct. It seems like an abrupt switch, but he’s been considering this for a while now. And tonight, he finally acts on it instead of waiting until it’s too late. Although he’s still upset at that moron for standing her up, if it weren’t for him, Geto probably wouldn’t have the guts to finally admit his feelings.

It takes you a few seconds to process what he’s saying. Eventually, you smile, leaning in to nuzzle your nose to his. “About time, you dummy.”

He grins, closing the gap to kiss you softly on the lips. Commitment isn’t so bad, as long as it’s with you.