#kitty likes synch

[snakies-sideblog]

I love listening to "Home" by Edith Whiskers (Tom Rosenthal) because it makes me think of Synchronize. Agni holding Sebastian and them falling asleep together is just so soft and warm and feel good. 🥺💕

"Home, let me come home, home is whenever I'm with you."

[s-4pphics]

click!: in frame. 3 (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: you crave redemption more than love. [idk au]

WORD COUNT: 17.2k

WARNINGS: professionalphotographer!ellie, strugglingartist!oc who’s black, FLUFF????, angst, mentions of deceased family members, weed, sexual tension, SMUT AGELESS BLOGS/MDNI, they fuck a lot, fingering, pussy eating/face sitting, tribbing YAAY, slut shaming but consensual, fucking on camera, dirty talk mmm, STRAP SUCKING!!! SUCK MORE STRAPS!!, squirting, i think that’s it but i don’t remember tbh

A/N: omg finally….. heyyy idk when i’ll return to this fic tbh …. 😞😞 but i love them so much and i always will. fav couple imo… HOPE THIS MAKES UP FOR THE LONG WAIT BYEEEEE LOL

Ellie’s trying her hardest not to panic. 

Her car is quiet, not a sound coming from either of you, ears comforted by the whistling winds and rustling trees… And Pickle’s quiet coos. She sits in your lap as your thumb caresses her head; Ellie’s can see how she looks up at you, eyes full of love. She's never going to stop reminding you of how much your kitty missed your presence.

Her mind races with unanswered questions, one of the main being why you haven’t said anything to her since the two of you left her father’s home. She yearns to hear your voice. 

She yearns for you… but you’re not yourself, at least from what she can remember. She can’t shake the curiosity that’s been pestering her since you’ve reconnected; What the hell happened to you while you were apart? The energy you brought to your formerly shared home was irreplaceable: your midnight rambles, your nerve-wracked pacing, your cheery laughter… Your laugh. She misses it terribly. It’s not the same. Nothing about you is. 

Ellie’s itching to ask, but her father’s statement blares red like a sonic in her mind. 

Did she tell you she’s in therapy?

You want to talk… You suggested it! Ellie’s tummy twists in anxious knots, hands tightly gripping the leather of the steering wheel. 

… What the hell happened to you? 

“We… we can sit anywhere.” Ellie whispers to you. 

She stands next to you by the front door while Pickle wanders around with her toy mouse between her teeth. You nod in acknowledgment but your gaze stays forward. Ellie peers downward when she hears subtle brushing of skin, catching glimpses of your thumbnail digging into your index finger. She grabs your hand to get you to stop. “Sit with me?” She asks gently, and you allow her to pull you towards the black cushions. You finally sit and she follows, keeping some space between you. Every bit of her attention is on you; She hopes it isn’t suffocating. 

“Your…” 

Ellie follows your gaze at your croak, inspecting the framed photo of young her and her parents at her high school graduation sitting proudly on the bookshelf. Your pupils are overcast in sorrow, and Ellie’s heart jerks painfully. 

“Your dad’s really nice.” You whisper. 

Ellie wasn’t expecting that, but she nods, “He… he really likes you. I know he was a little… standoffish, but he likes y—“

Her words are cut when two large tears dribble down your face like rain on glass. She scoots closer, brows furrowed in concern, one hand intertwining with yours while the other cups your wet cheek. “Talk to me, babe. What… what’s going on?” Ellie pushes as softly as she can. She doesn’t know how to help if you don’t say anything. 

“… Is it me? D-Did I do something?” She asks with a heavy heart, and you instantly shake your head. Your free hand comes up to land on top of hers, warmth radiating off your fingertips. 

“Y… Your dad’s r-really nice.” You exhale before releasing a choked sob. Ellie’s up in an instant, squatting in front of you as she tries to get you to calm down, telling you to breathe, to count, but you don’t. Ellie catches your weight as you fall against her, arms wrapping around you as she whispers comforts in your ears, blinking away her own tears. You’re holding her like she’s slipping from your fingers, each guttural sob synched with the squeezes on her shoulder. 

“Shhh, s’okay… S’gonna be okay.” 

Her whispers aren’t only for you. They’re for her, too. 

“Ellie…” 

“Yeah, babe?” Ellie’s lips brush against your forehead, and you sniffle. 

“… Ever been to therapy?” 

“Um… no?” She ponders with a huff at the ceiling, “I thought about it, but…” 

“It’s really hard,” Ellie’s heartbeat sounds like the beating rain outside, flowing into your ears like water on rocks, “Never do it. This shit sucks,” You snicker wetly. 

“… Noted,” She laughs softly and plants a kiss on your forehead. Your eyes shut when she whispers, “Wanna talk about it?” 

You nod into her neck as she rubs your back, “I just… I dunno where to start…” Your mind races, brain filled to capacity with every mistake you’ve made in the past year. 

“Just… say how you’ve been feeling,” She suggests. Her heartbeat seems louder… or is that yours? Your tears fall from your cheek and into her shirt. 

“I just… really miss my mom.” You say shakily. Ellie sighs from above and holds you tighter. 

“Me, too… it hits me out of nowhere sometimes,” She mutters, “We weren’t even… close like that, but it hurts…” 

“What happened?” 

“She died.” She says plainly. 

You snort, “N — not that! I mean why weren’t you guys close?” Ellie mumbles oh, fuck, sorry between hearty laughs and you smile. 

“I dunno… like, whenever I think back on good times, my dad’s always there. I never…” She pauses and your head rises to look at her face. She’s deep in thought, and you patiently wait for her to resurface. You brush the flyaways back from her face. 

“She just… wasn’t there…” She mumbles, “And when she was, we fought. All the time…” 

There’s so much more that she wants to say — you can see it in her eyes, how the trees in them brush with memory — but she chooses not to elaborate. She nervously fiddles with the charm of the necklace around your throat.

“My dad was like that.” You whisper back. 

“What happened?” 

You grin, “He died.” Ellie’s brows droop in confusion. 

“… I’m sorry?… ” 

“Don’t be. He ruined my life… Your dad’s really nice, by the way.” 

A small smile stretches across her face, “So I’ve been told.” Her fingers travel over your face, over your nose, “Wanna talk about him?” 

“… I think I should…” 

“Up to you,” She whispers and your chest nearly bursts, “I’m listening—“

Meow!

Ellie cranes her neck to look up at Pickle sitting on the arm of the couch, right above her head. “Sorry… we’re listening.” You giggle and pat Pick-Pick’s head before laying your head onto Ellie’s shoulder. Words escape before you can stop them. 

“I hit rock bottom when he died.” You breath wobbles, “Like, I thought I was there already when I dropped out but—“

“You dropped out?” 

Oh… You never told her. Fuck. You’re pitiful, “… Yeah…” 

“Why?” She asks, concerned. You cringe in embarrassment. 

“Just… I was sad. I couldn’t focus on anything. My grades were fucked, regardless, so.” You can practically hear the whirs in Ellie’s brain turning with a billion questions. You answer the most recurring. 

“No, it wasn’t because you moved out.” 

“… I’m sor—“

You sit up, “Don’t you dare. Stop.” 

The sadness in her eyes is evident, but she quiets. And then stands and bolts to her room like a fucking track star. 

“E — what the fuck! Ellie!”

You rush after her but she’s miles ahead, already chest to chest with you in her bedroom entryway…

Or chest to folder. 

No fucking way. 

“I — I owe you this.”

“Ellie—“

“Please.” She whispers, “I want you to see it.” 

After all this time. Her fucking portfolio. 

“It’s the most… important thing to me. I want you to see.” 

Her hand is gentle when it closes around yours and guides you to the couch. She simply sets the leather binder on your lap and kisses your cheek. 

“Consider it my therapy… or whatever.” She huffs. 

You laugh wetly. Why the fuck are you crying? 

Listening to her explain her passions to you was… an enlightening roller-coaster. She’s captured imagery that reflects her emotions in the most subtle, but brilliant of ways; there’s joy, there’s anger, there’s sadness, there’s loss. You two were a wailing mess when she dedicated an entire section honoring her mother. Her father. They have the most beautiful relationship. 

Romance was last. And it’s filled with you in red, right in front of that makeshift backdrop from your old apartment. You’re never gonna stop crying. 

There was a time where you couldn’t look at yourself no matter what you did, completely shrouded in self-hatred and neglect, but seeing these photos of you from another perspective, from Ellie’s perspective… 

You’re a wreck, but she holds you. Tells her how pretty you are. How happy she is to have you back. 

Your sobs are eventually tamed by her rubs on your back, the kisses on your forehead. She hasn’t said it, and neither have you, but you feel it. That electrifying pull that takes over whenever you are separated from each other. 

You wake up with a dead arm on Ellie’s couch… with Ellie’s arms around you. Your heart’s rhetorical legs are kicking its feet in the air with sparkles in its eyes. You attempt to adjust your position to alleviate the static in your hand, but Ellie’s arms squeeze around you with a grumbled whine. You hold back a snicker. 

“Ellie.” You whisper. “C’mon, babe, my arm’s asleep.” 

Another irritated whine. You laugh quietly and push your hips back to put some space between you. A bolt of electricity flies down your spine when a cold, stern hand latches onto your hip. 

“You know better. Stop.” 

Your brow arches curiously, “Whatchu gon’ do, Ms. Bott —“ You gasp, “Ellie, holy shit, are you a bottom?” 

“… We’re talking about this now?” She croaks, sleep cracking in her throat. 

“I’m curious! You’re great at it so I had to ask.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?” 

You scoff, “Um, it’s a compliment. You take it like a G. Say thank you.” You push back again for emphasis. Another threatening squeeze on your hip. Your bottom lip catches between your teeth to hide a smile. She's so cute.

“I said stop. And I’m not a bottom.” 

“Okay, lemme paint the picture. Fuckin’ milf from the club asks you to slide some silicone in her ass for shits and gigs. You doin’ it or nah,” You snark and push back harder on her, “You squirted in my mouth six tim—“

A thundering smack rings through Ellie’s silent living room as pain ripples through your asscheek. “I’m not a bottom.” She says in your ear and you attempt to hide a shudder. 

“Light work, no reaction,” You groan and Ellie snickers, rubbing over the sizzling skin to soothe the ache. “You gotta strap?” 

“Do you ever stop talking.” She snaps in annoyance and lets you go. You take the opportunity to jump in her lap, suddenly full of energy. Her hands land on your hips to steady you. “I don’t have a fucking strap.” She mumbles, eyes full of your tits.

“I know that’s right, baby! Hashtag BringBackTribbing,” You laugh giddily. This is the most alive you’ve felt in a year, “I look good on top? Huh?” You ask, goofily squeezing your breasts over your shirt. You jiggle them for emphasis, and Ellie flushes. 

Ellie tries to hide a smile, “You’re—“

“Hot? Sexy? The best you’ve ever had?” You suggest playfully. 

“— Incredibly annoying.” 

“Annoyinglyyy sexy?” You hum, and Ellie’s eyes twinkle with adoration. You smile and grab her hands, lacing her fingers with yours. She squeezes gently before inspecting your fit. Her dad’s fit, moreso. You hope Mr. Miller doesn’t hate you for snagging his drip… again.

“Did you pack a bag?” She asks quietly. You shake your head, kissing her knuckles. She flushes. 

“We gotta get you some stuff… if you wanna stay a little longer?” 

Your jaw drops in excitement, “Are we… officially U-Haul lesbians?” 

“I didn’t say that—“

“Don’t have to,” Your voice lowers as you unravel your hands, leaning down to whisper in her ear, “Wanna get me some trinkets to remember me by? Fucking…” You ponder, “Forget Me Nots or whatever?” You peck her ear, and her hands grab your ass. 

“T-That’s not what that means, you idiot.” Her back arches when your lips travel down her neck, “Are you in heat or something, what the fuck—“

“Mhm,” You grind down on her and she sighs, “been outta commission for a very… very long time.” You gasp like you’re dying, “Must… drink… life-blood—“

“Does tribbing —“ You move your hips faster, and whines escape you and Ellie, “aw, shit — fuck, cause chaffing?”

“Tryna find out?” You gasp when your clit catches on fabric. 

“Might fuckin’ be — fuck, like that —“ Ellie’s nails dig into your hips to help guide you on top of her, right where she needs you. The friction on your clit makes your thighs quiver. Ellie cranes her neck to connect your lips in a simmering kiss; your hands plant above her on the arm of the couch for leverage, pushing your hips down hard; She gets lost in it, no longer being able to keep up with your thirsty kisses as she whines for more. 

“Can’t fuckin’ — fuck — wait —“

You try to fight against her tight grip on your hips, but she’s forbidding, stern with her clutches. She pushes you up until there’s room to pull and kick her pants off, and you follow, tugging your shirt up and over your head before clumsily yanking your pants off, tossing the discarded fabric across the back of the couch. She’s upright when your lips reattach in a fiery kiss, tongues swirling messily against one another, releasing sighs into each other's mouths. 

Ellie’s hands are suddenly shy where they sit on your waist, unsure, silently pleading for guidance. You sightlessly grab her wrists and tug them up until they rest over your sports bra. She gasps in your mouth when your hands press down on top of hers so she can cup you, feeling your nipples rise underneath the fabric. You allow her hands to wander, squeezing at your chest and tweaking your nipples, body shuddering with every brush of cold fingertips against your skin. 

Heat pools in your underwear as she massages all over your skin; your chest, your thighs, the plush around your hips, anywhere she can reach, she’s on, icing your skin like snow. You’re shocked at how delicate her touch is despite the coarseness of her skin, the complete opposite of yours. You tore her apart the night prior, sunk as deeply as you could into her brain, her core, the concave of her spine; touched her from muscle memory. Almost instinctive, but she’s curious. Not controlling or domineering. She’s explorative and unfamiliarly soft, and you’re stunted, but the wettest you’ve ever been and she’s barely touched you. 

Her hands travel rise to pull your bra up, plush lips smacking against your collarbones as it's tossed to the floor. 

You’ve never not rushed to have sex; it’s always desperate and fast, but satiating for the time being. It does the job, gives you a boost of energy, gets you through the day until you’re craving it again. The dirtiness of it all… Ellie doesn’t feel like that. Dirty. 

Her hands feel like flowers against you, littering your formerly bruised skin with petals, orchids replacing the stood hairs on your neck and arms. The array of florals and green in her gaze are being passed onto you, and it’s making you lightheaded; it’s almost overwhelming. You’re torn between hiding from and searching for her. 

“Ellie…” 

She doesn’t answer, just traces your spine with her mouth on your neck. 

“E-Ellie…?” You’re unsure of what to say, but you need to know that she’s here with you. 

“Am I doing it right?” She hums against you, and your clit jumps in confirmation. She’s doing it too right and you need her closer. You nod and tug her bun out of her hair, fingers entangling with soft pili, strands softer than wool. 

“Lay down?” She’s not demanding… Your heart pulls at her tone. You pull away and keep your gaze down, at the wall, anywhere but hers until you're laying back on the couch, the cushions melding with your spine. Ellie’s mouth returns, dousing you in affections. She’s careful, each breath on your hips making you jerk. For the first time, your hands are stiff, frozen. You don’t know where to touch, so you keep them clenched by your face. 

“Good, baby?” She lures and you hum in approval. You’re not good. You’re about to start crying and your heart is fit to burst, to splatter and bleed tears all over her eggshell walls. You don’t know what to do. 

You feel wanted with every grab at your tits, how she inches your underwear down to litter kisses along the sensitive, each trail of her tongue littered with desire. Each breath you take tremors. 

I missed you so much, she keeps whispering against your skin, I missed you, baby. Couldn’t stop thinking about you when I left. You say it back, how sorrowful you were whenever she crossed your mind, how you craved her in the wee hours of the night for years, fiending to breathe her scent. Her smell is wafts of blooming roses, fresh rainfall, the sun rays peeking out from behind the clouds and dousing the streets in light. 

Your underwear is down in seconds, but she doesn’t rush; makes you wait for her touch. You beg her shamelessly, hips twitching with every peck on your thighs, leaving maroon and purple blemishes on your legs before inching up, up, up, until her breath hits your dew. Your thighs quake when she licks experimentally; one quick swipe between your folds has you gasping, nails piercing the skin of your palm. Another swift flick over your pulsing bud, and you’re whimpering, hips bucking. 

Look at me… Look at me, look at me, look at me, please… 

The desperation in her voice lifts you onto your elbows, neck arched downward until you’re met with her clammy forehead and soft eyes, patiently waiting for your instruction. You smirk down at her with a scoff.

“You’re cute,” You mumble huskily and her feet kick like a doll behind her, kissing your inner thighs. 

“Show me what to do?” she asks with doe-eyes, nibbling at the skin. 

“Gimme your hand,” she extends her arm to you and you hold her wrist, licking her middle finger like a kitten. Her thighs press together and you smile, tongue darting out to swirl around the tip before sucking it between your lips. She makes a pained noise against your flesh when you pull her digit into the plushness of your hollowed cheeks, pushing her fingers in until in cranes at the back of your wet muscle. Your throat closes when you gag and she lets up with a soft sorry. An uncontrollable giggle garbles around her finger at her dark cheeks and scared eyes. You release her with a wet pop!

“You good. Ready?” Her head bobs. 

“Hm…” You ponder, “Pussy is like… like an Xbox controller.” 

Ellie blinks. “… Okay.” 

You explain, “You really gotta feel around for the… buttons and whatever. You needa press them from the inside and… outside. At least for me… Everyone’s different—“

“I’m not fucking everyone, I’m fucking you.” She states with confidence, and wetness gushes out of you like a faucet. She eyes your cunt like a predator to a bleeding carcass, lips curling over her fangs at the flesh between your thighs. 

Your voice shakes, “J-Just sayin’… You just gotta touch me and I’ll tell you if it’s doing the job or not.” She nods and her gaze changes. It’s focused and raunchy when her thumb lands on your clit; she wastes no time, pressing deep, calculated circles over the throbbing button, drawing more wetness from between your walls. You eye her like a hawk, how she traps her lip between her teeth, how she stares at your pussy with unwavering devoutness; she replies to every last one of your moans with her own, like she can feel the pleasure she’s spoiling you with whipping deep in her tummy. 

Her caress picks up when your hips move on their own, bucking into her fingers, desperately seeking pleasure that you’ve abstained from for so long; it electrifies the pit of your gut, your jaw slackening when a curious finger inches down until it reaches your leaking entrance. 

Okay? She asks quietly, and you nod earnestly. Please, baby, please, you beseech, walls hugging around the tip of her finger. She’s slow as she stretches you, gasping at the feel of you choking her lone digit, her hips twisting down into the cushion of the couch for friction. Pride grows hot in your core whenever her thigh twitches, dragging her pussy against the couch at every ragged breath. 

You hold a hand up to show her when she asks for help, arching your finger like a hook, and she follows wordlessly. Your head drops onto the couch when she grazes past that ridge that makes you see stars. You feel her smirk on your clit before she takes it in her mouth. Your lips part over every curse squeaked at the ceiling; it’s too much too fast, it’s sensitive, you can’t breathe, but she’s taking it, hitting right where you need, pressing all your fucking… Xbox buttons—

Ellie’s fucking messy; she’s trying to replicate your efforts from last night: every spit-filled swirl of your tongue is now being thrown back onto you… in the best way. She’s a quick learner. Spit globs on your clit, mixes with the juices that build around your spasming hole while she whines like a bitch. Her mouth glistens in the darkness and your eyes cycle. 

Wanna fuck you so baaad, what the fuck, she whines to herself over your cresting moans, begging for another, begging for her to reach deeper inside you. You feel so good, you taste so good, holy fuckin’ Christ—

Every word on your clit sends vibrations up to your ribcage, right in your chest where your heart pounds for her. The couch dips with her quick movements before you feel her breath on your cheeks, smell yourself on her, fingers still nudged inside you. Your eyes flutter open and a smile stretches, “Hi.” You whisper. 

She smacks a wet kiss on your cheek, “Hi. Am I doing okay?” She twists her fingers against your nerves and you gasp, reply sharp. She hides her satisfied grin with another kiss on your cheek, and you can’t even snap how you want to. You’re desperate to tip, to reach that peak you’ve neglected for so long, begging her please, baby, make me cum, in her ear, seducing her until her fingers dig deep inside you again. 

You praise her between jumbled swears to the heavens, and she keens, whimpering into your neck when she feels how tight your walls get on her, pushing another finger past the tightness. You’re mine, It’s a promise and she groans into your neck, fucking you harder, You’re mine, you’re fuckin’ mine, m’gonnacum! Your tongue unravels like thread and you lose focus on everything except the girl on top of you; you feel the forbidden words resting on the edges of your teeth and ready to spill, the ones you swore to never speak again; but still, the unfiltered emotions rush through your blood as euphoria spills onto her hand, dripping down to the couch. 

E-El! Ffuuuck — oh, god I l — agh! 

Your orgasm splatters thick all over your inner thighs, coating her fingers in white as she works you; you feel her smiling even as your brain wracks, she likes this… Maybe she’s not a fucking bottom. Your ears ring while a speckle of drool dribbles from your chin; she licks it up before kissing you, moans trading between both your mouths, your taste coating your tongue. It’s not until her thumb traces your clit again that your legs slam shut on her. She snickers darkly into the kiss and fights against the muscles in your legs. 

I’m not fuckin’ done, gimme this pussy, she grits over your protests; tries to nudge her fingers even deeper inside you, but she’s struggling; you’re winded up so tight. How are you still cumming this fucking hard? You grab her wrist as tight as you can, and she scoffs, letting up. 

“Fine. Meanie.” One last press to your mouth and she’s up, sitting on her knees while you whither, trying to fucking recover whatever strength you preserved… None.

You muffle into the pillow, “Ellie, what the fuck—“

Your slurs are cut with concern, a gentle hand on your thigh. For the first time, she’s not freezing, “Wait, are you okay? I though—“

You send her a shaky thumbs up, “I’m good, baby, just… fuck—“

“Oh, okay…” A moment of pause, “Can we scissor now?” 

“Can I fucking breathe!”

“You can breathe after! C’mon, U-Haul lesbian!” She pats your ass excitedly. 

“After Hot Topic. I need shirts.” 

“Nuh uh,” A kiss against your knee… up to your thigh, on your waist. “Wan’nit now.” 

“Unhand me, hooligan — ow!” You squeak when teeth sink into your side. Ellie sighs in dissatisfaction, but she lets you go. 

With one last wet kiss on your cheek, of course. 

Hot Topic has lost their entire mind. $15 for a ring set? You almost convinced Ellie to steal them but she said getting caught wasn’t worth it. 

She did buy two new Spidey-man shirts, though… For a whopping $45. Geek. Bring. Back. Stealing. 

After ranting about price spikes to the cashier, you and Ellie barely make it three skips down the strip before your eyes catch a glowing, maroon sign. You yank Ellie back before she can continue down, a villainous smirk glued to your face. 

“Oh, Ellliiieee,” you sing.

She spins, “Hm?” Your lower lips traps between your teeth, an arm holding her tight against you. She stiffens at your hushed proposal, fingers clenching around your hand. 

“You ever been to 9M Sex?” 

You hear her swallow before a shuddering exhale. 

“That’s not very subtle, is it?” She mumbles and you cackle. 

“So… what do you think?” You say, voice laced with seduction. 

Ellie refuses to make eye contact. She’ll die and rot if she does; her corpse will be infested with grime and maggots in the next twenty-seconds. She won’t look at you… or the twenty-inch, plastic-wrapped dildo held between your legs. 

She burns where she stands; how is the carpet not sizzling into flames from beneath her? 

“… I dunno.” Ellie mutters; She does know. Knows that you’ve been testing her since you stepped foot into this demonic space. You’re a succubus with violent intentions with every grip on her waist, every whimsy confession you throw in her direction after eyeing the lecherous items on display. 

I wanna use that on you… You whisper when you pass every vibrator imaginable, You’d look so cute in this, baby… as you point at a fucking maid costume, I wish I could touch you right here… 

It’s embarrassing how badly she wants you to. It wouldn’t take much convincing to lure her behind one of these lingerie racks and pull her underwear to the side with your tongue down her throat… again, she swears it. One more salacious twinkle from those brown eyes, and she’s all yours, whenever, wherever. Anyway you want her until you’re satiated. The rush you give her is intoxicating. 

“Oh, c’mon! It’s fuckin’ funny! How the fuck would this fit in somebody!”

“I’m sure they’d make it work,” Ellie cringes at how high her voice sounds. What the fuck is she, twelve? Closeted all over again? 

You throw the… cock over your shoulder like deadweight, and Ellie blushes. She’s oddly endeared at your shamelessness; It’s very reminiscent of when you two first met… Why does that feel like a lifetime ago?

Light is beaming off you, and Ellie can’t get enough. This is the happiest she’s seen you since you’ve reconnected; you’re goofy and loud and full of color, completely unapologetic… Is it wrong to say that she’s envious? She’s never met a person so… secure. The store is nearly empty, but she can’t help but think that you’d act the exact same if it were stacked to the ceiling with people, parading around with your fluffy handcuffs and cat ears to match with a smile that glows for miles. 

Ellie would give anything to have that… The ability to dismiss conformity. Leaving her home is still a journey for her. She’s forced out of her own thoughts by your gasp, “Ellie… oh my fucking god…” 

“What’s the matter?” 

“… Turn around right now.” She follows your line of vision and nearly passes out... There’s absolutely no fucking way. An eggplant… but silicone… With an adjustable strap? No fucking subtly. Ellie can hear the rusty, unoiled, screws in your brain churning, conjuring up something absolutely disgusting… Her spine tingles. 

“Babe…” 

“Y’know we’re buyin’ that, right?” Your lips are at the shell of her ear, voice alluring. “I refuse to leave without it.” 

Ellie gawks at that phallic vegetable; Why is it so fucking big? “I’m not having that shit on my card history.” 

“C’mon, suga mama. Get us somethin’ special…” Her spine quakes at your purr, “Don’t you wanna fuck me… Ms. Bottom?” She can hear the smile, and her teeth grit so tight, bound to snap. 

Ellie whips around with a snippy voice, “I’m not a fuckin’ — “ Her eyes travel to ensure your seclusion, “I’m not a bottom. I told you that—“

Your hands cover your ears, “Blah, blah, blah! Lalalala—“

“You’re pissing me off—“

“Get that eggplant and show me how much.” You’re sinful with the low airiness of your tone. “I’ll do whatever you want.” 

“Liar.” Her entire body gusts into flames. You pout and shake your head, “I mean it! Take care of me with the best root vegetable, mama.” 

“You’re insane…” 

Your brow arches, “Maybe so. I’ll make sure to use a coupon. Ain’t nothin’ like 40% off a nut.” You waltz past her without a care in the world, throwing all your supplies on the counter like they’re groceries. Even threw the cashier the sweetest wonderful weather we’re having, ain’t it!

Ellie swiped her card with her eyes glued to the floor, shoving the receipt that read have a sex-filled day! to the bottom of the bag. 

The air in Ellie’s home feels heavy. 

Your eyes are locked onto her. Her back is to you where she squats on the floor, refilling Pickle’s food bowl with salmon pâte while you rest on her sofa. She can feel the intensity of your gaze through her jacket; it scorches her bones and leaves cracks in the marrow wherever they travel, goosebumps rising on her skin. 

Neither of you have said much since returning home — particularly due to Ellie being intimidated by your sudden calmness. The energy you’re radiating has flipped completely, and it’s only been an hour; The second you picked up your sex shop bag from the service counter and climbed into the passenger seat, you went docile, zoned in on every movement she made with floaty pupils. She’s still shocked you didn’t start undressing in the car. 

Ellie gives Pickle one last kiss before standing, cringing at the pops from her knees. You’re sitting on the crack of the cushions with your legs crossed, hands politely folded and resting on the point of your knee. Your eyes remind her of clouds, plush and delicate. 

“What.” She rasps. You merely shake your head, “I can’t look?” You ask, eyes glossing. Hers match, crystallizing like diamonds in the dirt, “Do what you want. I’m gonna shower.” Ellie’s legs move with the pounding in her chest, halting when you say

“I’m coming with you.” 

“That’s fine,” She rushes. It’s not fine. Her body’s going to give out. It almost does when you frolic past her, the carve in your now bare back on full display, discarded Hot Topic shirt in hand when you push the bathroom door open. 

She follows like a dog. A wolf. She’s so fucking hungry. 

Steaming water beats down on both of you like rainfall as your mouths meld together, swallowing every sigh, every desperate whimper. But still, your arms stay pinned behind your back. Ellie’s tried everything: sucked at your throat, gripped your ass in her palms, licked up your neck, but you won’t fucking touch her. She’s dripping for you, aching for your hands to caress her; she thought pressing herself tight against your body would finally get you to crack, but you’re stone. Tough as brick. Completely unreceptive. 

She knows what you’re doing… You know what you’re doing, and your attitude is driving her up a wall. Your ego’s fucking huge, that’s for sure.

All this over Ellie enjoying bottoming; She’s not a fucking bottom, she likes to bottom, to be taken care of; there’s a difference. It’s not her fault you’ve perfected your craft; Your touch is addictive; every nerve underneath her skin vibrates whenever you glance in her direction, let alone touch her. 

When your lips reconnect, it’s harsh. Ellie’s bothered to say the least, and you try not to smile. Your giddy laughter is swallowed by her when she traps you against the cold, wet wall, your back barely arching away from it before she holds you down, attacks your neck with precision. Your thighs squeeze together with each suction on your skin, hips pushing down onto the thigh that’s pressed tight between yours. 

“I fuckin’ hate you—“ She spits in your ear. Your grin is pageant-ready. 

“Doesn’t look like it, bottom—“

A heavy, veiny hand cracks on your thigh, and you squeak, “Just admit it! It’s not a bad thing—” 

“I know it’s not. I’m not that, though.” 

“Okay, baby.” 

“Shut up. Turn around.” You teasingly kiss her chin before twirling like you’re on ice, cheek smashed against the wall and ass sticking out for her, wrists bound by an invisible string at the end of your spine.  

“I got some waterproof stuff—“

Be quiet, She snarls like you did on night one, and you’re silent. Ellie sucks the skin right under your ear and your leg kicks out slightly. Her curious fingers slip between your legs and are instantly coated in silk. Your weightless head falls onto her shoulder, sighing like an angel at the gentle flicks on your clit. Yeah? She whispers when you groan her name out, chest and ears beet red. 

Yeah, baby, fuck, you treat me so good, You mumble back and she inhales deeply, walls jerking, Such a s-sweetie pie, The noise she makes in your ear is very reminiscent of a wounded animal, nasal and high. Her working wrist gets sloppy seconds after, and your jaw slacks. She’s rushing, eager for you to cum, to make her dirty all over again. 

Ellie loves how deep your voice gets when you fuck; dry and thick and melts her like butter, makes her dizzy. She would beg you to talk back if she wasn’t on this fucking power trip; she wants you to shake under her. Humble you a bit. Y-Yeah? She croaks. 

Ellie’s blanking; She’d planned to say so much when you pulled her into the muggy space by the chain around her neck, but she can’t fucking think. You smell so fucking good and your skin is soft as cotton. 

F-Fuck yes, oh f — uck —

A nasty grin grows on Ellie’s face when your legs start to wobble, hips arching off hers to get her fingers closer to your pussy. 

Uh huh, She hums, squeezing your wrist in her stagnant hand and forcing it around until it rests over your pussy, hold it open for me. Your hips buck back harsher than she anticipates; Ellie barely catches herself, forced to hold you up, trapped completely between her and the wall, fingers attacking your well-exposed clit. Her tongue swirls on your neck as you ride her hand; She wishes she could see your face properly, take in the way your lashes flutter right before your peak crashes into you, how the brown in your eyes cascade into darkness, full of lust. 

It’s her favorite part; how your moans pitch as your walls squeeze in one tight pull. They spasm in harsh twitches as your clit jounces; Ellie feasts on every single quivery alert of your orgasm, boasts in silence after each exclamation of Ellie, Ellie, oh, fuck!

She’s officially made you cum twice. Four more out of you, and you're fair game. Her stomach twists as she holds you down; You’re so loud and she loves it, that satisfied twinge in your voice at its peak. Ellie’s arm is tight around your waist; There’s so much pressure where she whisks your clit, lips closing around her two fingers. 

A tight hand closes around her wrist when you beg her to stop, Okay, babe, fuck fuuu— ah! —

But she doesn’t let up; rubs you faster, spits nastily in your ear, Say you’re sorry, she gravels onto your cheek, Make it good, too. 

Ca — El — uhhh! —

Yeah? Want some more? Tell Ellie how sorry you are. 

Fuckfuckfuck — I-I’m — Oh god, I’m sorryI’msorrybaby—

Ellie feels merciful and drops her hand, and you go lax against her. She’s forced to smash her body against yours so you don’t drop to the floor. She lets you ride out your aftershocks, the last bits of cloud nine, lips pressing into your shoulder. 

Your panting eventually slows, “Ellie…” 

“Hm.” 

“I hope you know…” you scratch, “… that I’m boutta fuck the living shit outta you.” 

She kisses your shoulder before scoffing with an arched brow. 

“Okay.”

Ellie’s choices in room décor never fail to amaze you. She’s so endearing. 

Her adult room seems much more lived in; some clothes scattered on the floor and slung over her black love seat, laundry baskets, open drawers with neatly folded clothes… so many mirrors. There’s one by her nightstand, two small, circular ones stood on her dresser, two full-body ones by her window. You can see yourself in every direction you turn. Her walls are made with black brick and littered with green and yellow fairy lights, draped decorative leaves surrounding her Spider-Man(Toby McGuire and Miles Morales) tapestries. Multiple black, furry rugs cover the floor. And the posters… Bless her heart. You’ve never seen so many constellations and planets on one wall, let alone four. Her bed is so messy, though. Her poor stuffies are face-down. It’s a crime how fucking adorable she is; Your heart is jumping for joy. 

“You don’t make your bed?” You ask slyly. 

She pauses her towel-wrapping, “… For what.” 

“Um, for tidiness. Aesthetic, if you will.”  

She blinks at you, “That’s dumb as fuck. You’re gonna lay in it anyway. I want a kiss.” She walks towards you and steals one… and another, and another until you’re both smiling. Your arms interlace around the back of her neck. 

“Make your bed or I’m snitchin.” Your whisper is followed by a peck. 

“Snitchin’ to who?” 

“P-Papa Miller.” 

“Don’t talk about him when I’m horny.” 

She unravels your towel and lets it drop to the floor, “S… Sorry.” 

“You’re not forgiven. Lay down.” 

You sit on her bed like a cat scoping the scenery, “Or what? Gonna hit me? In my face?” You purr. 

She rests her hands on your knees, bending her spine to kiss you, “Maybe.” 

“No balls.”

She smiles and smooches your nose, “You’re right. I would never.” 

“What if I want you to.” 

She scoffs and stands upright, “I’m not… fucking hitting you—“

“What if I ask politely…” You deepen your voice mockingly, and she shudders, “Oh, Ellie Williams, my dearest flower, may you do me the honor of bruisin’ my cheek with an affectionate handprint?” 

“Dude—“

“You don’t have to… but if you wanna, I’m not opposed.” You fall back onto your arched elbows, knees pulled high in the air. Ellie’s stare is disgustingly enticing as her eyes travel from yours, all the way down to your calves, but she makes no moves. You love how patient she is. 

“Your hands are so fuckin’ nice.” 

She snorts and looks down at them, squeezing a tight fist and inspecting the blue-green veins. “They are? They don’t feel dry?” 

“I love how cracked they are. Scratch me up, papí.” 

Ellie’s nose turns up as her ears glow, feigning disgust, “Shut up.” 

You smirk and your thighs separate, inch by inch, gooey lines of slick snapping when your pussy’s on display, “Make me.” She swallows. Ellie decides her hair has dried enough, shaking the towel from her head and crawling on top of you in seconds. Her mouth mushes against yours; Her aggression is so delicate. Her lips stroke yours until they dust your cheeks, down to your temples. You eye the neon glow-in-the-dark stickers on her ceiling, “Gonna fuck me under the moon, space ranger?” She licks over your mumbles, nibbling at your lips. “M-Maybe…” 

“Havin’ second thoughts, bottom?” You poke and her jaw tenses.

“Put your fuckin’ leg up.” 

You oblige, flattening the other so she can straddle your lax thigh, “Goin’ back to our roots, I see. Traditional lesbianism.” You sigh when her dripping pussy hovers over yours. Ellie has the prettiest cunt; You’ve told her probably a thousand times, now, but fuck, it’s perfect: soft strands of hair submerged in slick, plush lips surrounding her red clit. Your pussy flutters like she’s crushing whenever Ellie finds her balance on top. She fits her shoulder in the arch of your calf, and you’re patient, dragging a light fingertip around her areola. Her tongue wets her lips before she closes the space between your pussies. The muscles in your thighs clench at your intertwined warmth. 

Ellie holds your gaze, forest shiny with arousal with a hand gripping your raised thigh. 

“Send me to the stars, space ranger.” 

She chokes a laugh before kissing your ankle, “You’re cute.” 

“No, you,” you cheese. Her smile matches yours before she experiments, finds comfortable seating on your lap before her hips grind forward, just barely. Her maneuvers are shy, a bit unsteady, but she’s entrancing; Ellie’s face is perfect… Have you ever told her how beautiful she is? 

A trembling whisper from her, Why’re you looking at me like that? shows that you haven’t, not nearly enough, at least. Astonishment settles in your vision; You’re stunned to silence by her. Breaths leave ragged through your nose, eyes trailing over every inch of her face; the curvature of her nose, every pore, every scratch and scar. She’s an image, a neglected picture that deserves all notoriety. To be hung in ancient museums; A modern Mona Lisa. 

Ellie… 

Mhm? 

I really like you… 

She’s motivated, hips pushing forward and back, pressing down, as tight as she can get the gap. H-How much? 

Too much, and it’s a fact. A terrifying one that you can’t ignore. She moans in response and holds the hand that rests on her hip as she rides you, the cup of her breasts jumping, the remainder of shower water mixing with fresh bubbles of sweat in between the valley, glistening under the last bits of sunset. Tell me, tell me, she begs and moves faster, and your heart rate skyrockets, from nerves, from… 

You're perfect, y-you’re so— Her mattress springs wheeze under the sudden pace of her thrusts. Your whimpers seem to drive her, I missed you so much. You’ll never fail to remind her; shame on you if she ever forgets. Wetness squelches between your bodies, the friction sparking the wires in your spleen, back arching with every catch of her clit on yours. 

Stay with m-me, Her voice breaks, and your hand is numb from how hard she grips it, Don’t… don’t go… I like when you’re close to me… Your eyes attempt to close, but you can’t allow it. You drink in every inch of her, and you burn warmer when she does the same, always returning to your eyes before beginning again. 

You’re gonna make me cum, She gasps brokenly, disappointed. You’re begging now, for every drop she has. You want all of it; the claws that sink into her are desperate when her head falls back, her nipples tighten, her pleasure racking off the walls. Your hips buck into hers and she squeals, tries her hardest to keep her balance, but she’s cracking. You feel her throbbing, can almost make out her heart pounding over yours; she’s warning you, she’s right there, and the incoming destruction is evident in her voice. 

Her cry is long and drawn as her clit beats, blush burning in her cheeks as she scrapes at your skin, pulls at your fingers to center as she transports to euphoria. Tears jerk in your eyes when you hear her confession, heart shattering in your chest as darkness takes over you; it’s disgraceful how you’re silent as she lays everything out for you to take. You cry in silence as she rides out everything she deserves. 

I love you… Don't leave me… I love you, baby, I-I love you… 

Inhale… Exhale… Inhale… Exhale… 

You count how many seconds it takes for Ellie to breathe. She’s sound asleep with her back to your chest, her arms outstretched in front of her. Your arm rests over her hip as you welcome every waft of her citrus shampoo. It’s doing wonders pausing your incoming breakdown. You’re so, so sick. 

I love you… Don’t leave me… 

It replays in your mind against your will. Over and over, it bounces around your skull until your temples pound. You’re not sure what’s more nauseating: the word she used or that she meant it. You could see it in her eyes, promises of adherence, careless and unbound yearning and devotion. You’re to blame, though. You practically pulled it out of her after your own declaration; I really like you… What an idiot. 

You admire her in every possible way. Her bravery, in particular. 

You don’t deserve to be in her presence, but still, you rob her of time. She showers without you present, and you desperately wait for return so you can hold her again. She’s scared that you’ll leave her when it should be the other way around; It’s been your only fear: her realizing that she deserves everything you aren’t. Someone happy, pure-hearted, successful, just like she is. 

Whatever attracts her to you must be an unimaginable pity. How could she love someone as manipulative and slimy as you? It’s unfathomable. 

And yet, you still lay next to her, under her stars. 

You separate from her as slyly as you can to sit on the edge of her bed, palms digging into your eyes before purring erupts from behind you. You feel nuzzles against your back and you snicker; Pickle’s a vessel of comfort. She never fails to appear when you're in dire need. She’s beckoned over with soft clicks of your tongue, taking refuge on your lap and licking at your thigh. Your lips mash against her little head, peppering kiss after kiss until leaps onto the floor, exiting the room and moving down the hall. You use kit-kat as an escape even if your heart aches to be near Ellie. 

The journey to her living room is slow due to you examining the framed pictures on the wall. Some are photos of just her, while others are her and other nameless people you don’t recognize, all smiling wide. She’s being hugged and kissed on her cheek by presumed friends — maybe family — all while holding the camera in her shaky hands, thanks to the blurred image. There’s photos of her on vacation, on beaches, photos of fireworks and birthday cakes, and so many photos of her father. 

There’s so much light in this hallway, even in void night, and she’s in the center of it. You can’t stop crying. 

Your body drags to the couch to retrieve your discarded backpack, digging for your phone. You haven’t touched it since you’ve been here, and you’re shocked to see that it’s still charged. The influx of missed calls frightens you; they’re all from work. You rush to listen to your last voicemail. 

“Hey, sweetheart! It’s Professor Meyers! Professor Rosnon’s been trying to get in contact with you, so I thought I’d reach out, as well. We’ve got an amazing offer for you if you’re interested! It’s too much to describe on the phone, so I hope we can meet up in person very soon and discuss the details. Get back to me as soon as you can. Enjoy the rest of your vacation, buh-bye!” 

That was yesterday morning. Fuck your life. 

Your sketchbook stares back with impertinence as your tears dry; It’s been months and still nothing from your imagination has transferred onto paper. Why do you continue to disappoint yourself, staring at a blank page with your pen in hand? 

“H-Hey.” 

You don’t react to Ellie’s call, just continue to tap your pen on the edge of your book. You can’t stop thinking about her hands. She appears from behind the couch wrapped in her Princess Bubblegum blanket, scratching at her nose. 

“I was cold…” She mutters with a soft laugh, “How do you stay so warm?” You merely shrug, tongue tied in indestructible knots. 

“Can I sit?” Your head jerks and she’s next to you in seconds, kissing your cheek, then your shoulder.

“What’s the matter, baby?” She whispers against your skin, and you sigh. 

“Just girly things,” You chuckle darkly before bluntly asking, “Are you mad at me?” 

“No — what?” Her voice is as delicate as rose petals, “Why would I be mad?” 

“I didn’t say it back.” You say. 

“… Say what back.” 

“You told me you loved me and I didn’t say it back. I didn’t… say it. I dunno why I didn’t!” 

She stares incredulously, “It’s… That’s fine—“

Your book goes flying into the cushion before you stand, “Ellie, it’s not fuckin’ fine! None of this is fine! I don’t know if it’ll ever be fine! I’m not… I’m not fine.” You exasperate, “Am I… I can’t stop… overthinking everything! I wanna make…” You sob and pace. 

“I want you happy. You deserve… aaalll the good shit that life has to offer!” Your arms flail, “You’re so… I can’t fucking think when you look at me! All my brain cells fucking explode and I never wanna look away! I just wanna sit and stare at your fucking face all day long! Fuck working, fuck a mortgage, fuck — fuck everything! Life is fuckin’ dumb and pointless if your not in the center of it! I’m so—“ 

“I love you.” She whispers, water in her eyes. 

“I can’t… accept that—“

“Me loving you?” 

“Yes! Well… no—“

“So you want me to love you?” 

“Ellie, please, I can’t fuckin’… breathe—“

“Yes, you can. And I’m so in love with you,” She says with certainty, and somehow, your brain convinces you that it’s conniving. “I was in love when I left… and I’m still in love now. You make me so… excited about life.” She continues mutedly, “If you don’t… wanna stay, I understand. But I had to tell you anyway.” 

“I…” You wail with knuckles in your eyes, “I love you so much…” Ellie’s sighs in relief at your cry. She chuckles wetly before you feel her arms around you, “You’re such a fuckin’ lesbian, it’s actually hilarious.” 

“Fuck off!” You holler into her shoulder, “This is your fault! Why are you so perfect! Fucking… fucking bitch—“

“Say you love me again,” she pleads into your sweatshirt, and you repeat it like a prayer. I love you, I love you, I love you so much! Ellie rocks back and forth where you stand, a delicate, scratchy hand rubbing your back under the cloth. 

You're back in Ellie’s room. Your pen is moving. On paper. 

When Ellie ushered you to bring your sketchbook to bed, you couldn’t stop laughing; continuously questioned your ability, trying to convince her how pointless that would be, but that gentle encouragement in her gaze got you here: on another blank fucking page with an exhausted pen. You hate lesbians. 

The lines on the sheet are subtle, gently grazed across white with little focus; The image isn’t super descriptive, but it’s shapely. It looks like… something; That’s all you need right now. Ellie’s watching curiously, eyes flickering between your busy hand and the slowly filling sheet. 

“Pretty.” She says. 

You snort, “It’s literally a blob.” 

“To you. Art is subjective.” Your eyes roll before they land on Pickle resting on Ellie’s throw pillow. “What, you hate it, too?” 

“Don’t do that! She loves it!” 

“Look at her eyes! Nothin’ but homophobia!” Ellie nudges your knee with hers in disapproval, and Pickle blinks. 

“Be quiet. Keep doing that.” She nods down at your paper, and you smirk. “Yeah, baby? Like when I do that?” You hold her faltering stare and scribble blindly, “It’s gettin’ you there?” 

Her cheeks grow plump and shine, almost reaching her eyes, “Stop… or no more kisses.” 

Your jaw slacks, “You wouldn’t dare!” 

“I would! C’mon, finish for me — “ Your body crashes with laughter at the innuendo, and Ellie cringes. 

“Can you focus for two seconds!” She scolds between your cackles. 

“I’m so — sorry, it’s just too good, holy fuck—“

“It wasn’t that funny.” She says blankly. 

“To you! Comedy’s subjecti—“ 

Ellie holds you down by your hips before jumping into your lap, glare sizzling past your teary eyes. 

“Oooh, la la, quite the dejavu moment.” You snicker up at her, book and pen forgotten. 

“Am I a joke to you?” 

Your brow curves scoffingly, “Might be. And what about it?” 

“I think you needa break.” 

“Word?” You toss your pen and book with the quickness, “What we doin’, space ranger?” 

“You’re not doing anything. I’m gonna ride your cock.” 

Your eyes turn to globes as she undresses herself above you, throwing her tee and maneuvering so she can kick her underwear over the bed, only clad in her fuzzy Saturn socks. 

“Where’s the bag.” 

“… O-Over there,” You point where you threw it mindlessly after your couch escapades, and Ellie’s up to retrieve it. You eye the dip of her back and gawk at her fucking ass when she bends over to rummage through the bag. “Are… are you serious right now?” 

“Yup. Take your clothes off.” She calls back plainly. 

“… Alright.” You unclothe into your boyshorts in stunned silence. Since when is she this bold? She returns with full hands: cotton candy flavored lube, a small bullet, and the longest fucking eggplant you’ve ever seen in your lifetime. She throws them onto the mattress carelessly with a shrug, “I think you need some inspo. Am I the best girlfriend?” 

Your heart jerks in your chest, veins reaching out for her “… ‘Course, baby… shit.” 

Ellie holds up the strap by the leg adjustment, “I’m sure you know how to put this on.” She throws it into your lap before popping open the baby blue lubricant. Your face burns when you swing your legs over the bed to pull the harness up your legs. You can hear her giggling as the aubergine jumps up and down above your pussy. She offers to help and you instruct her through tightening the bands until they fit snug around your hips and thighs. 

Your brain’s in overdrive; the curved girth of the silicone builds arousal in your underwear, envisioning Ellie’s plush walls stretching and pulsing around the purple length, her creamy silk building around the perimeter of the green tip at the base. Your clit leaps beneath the fabric. 

“Are you… You want some head? Like… before this?” Your fingers point at the eggplant. Ellie shakes her head with the bullet in hand. 

“Just lay down.” 

“Ellie—“

Her hands clasp your steaming cheeks, her lips brushing against yours when she murmurs, shhh… take good care of me? Your heart flutters where it sits in her hands, Don’t I always? You choke, and she hums with a smirk before her lips curl against yours. Poking fun at her for being a bottom is long gone; This is the most sure you’ve ever seen her in this setting. You’re often the hand that guides, lures her in, eases the unwanted tension and leads you both to gratification, but now she’s doing that for you; her tongue slides over your mouth one last time before balancing herself on the edge of the bed and dropping to her knees, eyes lined up with the fat tip of the toy. 

Oh … Oh. 

You’re one of the most… talented people I know. She flatters, so lustful and genuine. I know that side of you is still in there. It’s all gonna come back to you… M’ just gonna help. 

Is this your proposal of being my muse? You quirk. She shrugs, her hand closing tight around the length, Could be. Depends on how good you think I do. 

Always do so good, You acclaim, I love you… fuck—

Ellie kisses the tip before purring, I love you more… Anyone ever do this to you? 

… Is this a trick question? Uhh… Like… like, one time. Despite your doubts, you choose honesty. The memory is lackluster and quick. It was decent enough. Merely for experimenting purposes. 

The twinkles in her eyes catch flame, What’d you like about it. She asks, but it’s not a question; it’s sharp, and you almost start crying. 

I-I dunno—

Before you can lie, a glob of spit lands all over the head. The glare she sends you is both icy and hot as she massages in the wetness, gliding it all over. Your knees buckle under your weight, and she leers up at you. You like it like that? Nice’n sloppy? 

You’ve had… so much sex in your life, and never once, in the history of the universe, have you ever been this fucking wet. If you were to go on a casual midnight stroll right now, sloshy noises would echo from between your legs for miles. The glint in her eye is knowing, and spit gathers all over her tongue as it swirls around the tip. The sounds her lips make are sinister; your chest concaves in a wheeze. 

When the tip slides a hair deeper on her tongue, you choke a pained noise. She releases the tip when your body stutters again. She says nothing, simply shoves you down onto the bed by your thighs, planting herself in between them once more. There’s so much fucking spit; it slides down in droplets all over the sides of the silicone as she slobbers on the crown, preps it for when it slides down her throat. Her mussed blankets are clenched between your fingers; your breathing is ragged. 

Such a good fuckin’ girl, Your tongue swells, and Ellie keens, eyes sparkling underneath stray auburn when they flutter at your praise. Your cramped fingers brush the strands away before knotting in her hair. The bun at the back of her head slowly loosens, trapping your digits in her locks. A soft whimper leaves her when you pull. 

For some reason, your eyes travel, only for a second, but you’re met with an elongated image of Ellie’s dotted spine, the goosebumps on her skin, the way her head bobs half an inch at a time, all in her full body mirror. You choke on a whine, and the muscles in Ellie’s back twitch. 

Oh my fuckin’ god, Your fingers tighten in her tresses and she whines, the arch in her back deepening. Your walls pulsate when you catch the glistens of slick spilling from her entrance at your sounds, both holes clamping down, pleading for you. Gonna let me fuck that pretty throat? 

Her moans are sloppy and wet. Her head bows, and you know she’s taking you deeper, nails digging into your thighs. It’s a curse that you can’t feel the tightness of her sunken cheeks. She pops off you, desperation leaking from her when whines, Fuck my mouth, baby, please, lips gliding all over the underside. You move on autopilot, sliding up further onto the mattress, feet planted on the floor and hips hanging off the edge of the bed. Ellie’s nasty; practically making out with your tip while you stabilize your position. It’s fucking messy, how her saliva drips down the base until it meets the harness, small beads building on your bare thigh. 

Stick your tongue out, you order before squeezing her face in your free palm. Her pink muscle lulls until it lays on the connective skin between your thumb and index, coated in drool. It’s not enough for you, though; Saliva builds in your mouth before it shoots onto hers, and she moans when it splatters all over her tongue, speckles landing on her cheek. A heavy hand comes down to pat her cheek, and she cries a quiet I love you. You smile and it’s dark, Uh huh, love you, too. Keep it out, your thumb drags on her bottom lip until her tongue rests flat over her bottom teeth. 

The hand that twines in her hair is harsh, Hands behind your back, you say and she does without questioning. You kiss her cheek before guiding her head steady towards the tip until it sits on her tongue. Her jaw widens when your hips rise off the mattress; you hold her still an inch forward, her mouth closing around the wrist. Her noises are quiet and docile, and she swallows; You shudder when you watch her throat close before pulling out. 

Okay? Want more? 

Her eyes plead like a puppy’s, tongue cycling on the prong. Breathe through your nose, Your hand loosens a bit in her hair, Just pull off when you wanna stop, okay, baby? 

One whine of approval and you’re pushing in again; Her hips twitch in the mirror as her mouth fills and you snicker; her thighs are coated in slick, a thin line dripping onto her furry rug. That’s my girl, fuck, you’re so cute, You grit and her fingers clench. The pace of your hips kick up slightly, testing to see how much she can take. You monitor her every move: the way her eyes float empty in her skull when her cheeks expand, how her breathing quickens when your thumb caresses her scalp, how tight her throat gets when you push too deep. 

Look at how wet that pussy is, Ellie moans over your thrusts. Slobber coats her lips and chin; dribbles all the way down to her chest. Your bottom lip traps between your teeth. 

You plunge too deep apparently; she gags and pulls off and explodes into a fit of coughs, forehead falling onto your thigh as she heaves. You kiss her head and apologize frantically… 

And then, she starts giggling. 

“Fuck — Fuck, I’m sorry —“

She snorts and coughs some more, and you’re stuck. You hold both of her sizzling cheeks in your hands and kiss all over her face. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry —“

“You’re really hot.” Her voice is croaky and broken and more slick gushes from you. How shameful. 

“Me?! Are you fucking — are you okay?” 

“Mhm.” She hums before pecking your lips, “Fuck me now? I’m… I’m so wet,” She whispers like she told you something secretive. You can bet every minuscule dollar you own that you’re wetter, but anxiety settles in your stomach. Your girl’s asking you to fuck the daylights out of her after nearly killing her with the fucking dick-shaped vegetable on your waist, and you’re panicking. 

“Ellie, I’m scared as fuck, not even gon’ lie—“

“Nothing to be scared of. I trust you.” Another kiss before she mutters, “Take care of me?” 

“P-Promise.”

Your mind rushes. 

The past twenty minutes have felt like a blur; you hardly recall pinning Ellie down on the mattress to keep her still while your tongue swirled inside her, how tight her walls clamped down on two fingers, how she scratched and squirted and squealed for you to fuck her. 

And now she’s beneath you, hips twirling up, desperate for friction as her nails tear at your hips, but you ignore her. You’re gawking at the lubricated strap that rests on her throbbing cunt, how the inches almost touch her belly button. You’re trapped in a daze as your hips move mindlessly, brows furrowed. 

W-What’s the matter, baby? She keens at you. 

Nothin’ You’re gruff, Thinking. 

And you are thinking… about how Ellie’s going to take this shit. The length is concerning on it’s own, but it’s so fucking wide and curves up. You recall the amount of times she’s winced when you fingered her. It should worry you; how far she’s going to stretch to take it all, how much her softness is going to resist against something so big. Your head is twisted where it wanders; conjures up disgusting visuals of her begging you to split her open, to make her take it, to give it to her as mean as you can. You can’t help it, though; She’s an angel when she cries. 

Agitation creases in her brows, “Gimme it—“

“I think it’s gonna hurt,” You slur. Her taste swirls on your tongue when you speak, and it makes you wetter. 

“I don’t care. Give it to me,” she snaps. “Want you… inside—“

Your brow flits, “Want me inside? I’ve been inside. A lot, actually.”

“Don’t fuck with me right now.” 

“Ellie, c’mon! Look at this shit! There’s no way—“ 

“I’m lying here telling you to do it! Fucking —“ She sighs in annoyance, “Let me get on top. You weren’t supposed to do shit anyway.” 

“Ellie!—“

“Stop talking and lay the fuck down!” 

You plop down onto your back with a slew of curses, and Ellie takes — snatches the reins from you; she leaps into your lap, lube in hand, scolding sizzling on her tongue. 

“I don’t wanna hear shit. Just… let me do it.” 

A cheesy smile grows, “… You’re not you when you’re horny—“

“What the fuck did I just say!” She squirts more fluorescent blue into her palm and blindly massages it into your strap. It’s horribly messy by the time she’s done, taking it in her hand and lining herself up without warning. 

“… Wha—“

Her non-lubed palm clamps on your mouth, silencing you with a hefty eye roll. Ellie arches a brow when you hold two thumbs up in silent encouragement. You love your girlfriend! 

Ellie steadies herself with a mumbled, please, God, don’t let me die, right above the tip before her hips drop not even an inch. You’re a hawk the way you eye her tiny hole expanding around the girthy crown. Her breaths are heavy and ragged, but she takes her time; hips rising when she’s taken too much, sinking when she’s comfortable, and you’re hypnotized by it all. 

Her hand drops from your mouth and plants on your chest when you’ve finally quieted — besides the mumbles of ohmyfuckinggod when her lips manage to swallow up the tip. Her bottom lip bruises from her teeth, tears welling in her eyes and her thighs twitching. She looks like she’s hurting and your heart shatters. Carnality be damned. 

“E-Ellie… baby, we don’t have to—“

You’re so… fucking big, she squirms, and you stiffen. 

Your nails latch — sink into her hips and your jaw slacks; gaping at how she struggles to take you, how she winces and gasps at the stretch until she’s halfway. You’re doing that to her, getting her nice and full; it takes all your strength to keep your hips flat on the bed despite every cell luring you to stuff her to the brim. 

… It hurt? 

I don’t — know — fuck, Ellie’s eyes flit in every direction: locks onto the ceiling, the bed frame above you, your breasts and your dick. Ah, shit — 

Good? You confirm and she hums, whimpering to herself until her ass rests on your thighs. Any traces of dark purple are no longer visible, only hints of bright green glowing from the base of the harness. 

You whistle lowly, Damn… you’re real as fuck. 

Gimme a sec, She sighs, and you raise your palms, Whenever you’re ready. 

The longer she sits, the more relaxed her face becomes; flush darkening on her cheeks and above her breasts, more slick ringing around the circumference. 

… This is very interesting, Ellie says aloud, and shocked laughter bursts through your chest. She’s fucking hilarious, actually. Scale of one to ten? Your brows give a mischievous wiggle, and she pauses, hips moving around, testing the waters. Her eyelids bat gently. 

… S-Seven ‘n a half? She moans, and you smirk, You sure? It looks like an eight to me. 

She glares playfully, Gonna have to work for that rating. 

You squint up at her before sitting upright, chest to chest, and her arms wrap around your neck for balance. I’m waitin’ on the green light, you whisper against her lips. She laughs weakly, One star rating on Yelp. Too much back talk. 

You kiss her around a smile before pecking all over her cheeks. She grabs the back of your neck to hold you still, melding her mouth on yours. You swallow her soft noises when your tongues intertwine, hands cupping her ass. Ellie’s jaw slacks when her hips raise and drop, gasping on your tongue. You lick into her mouth and hold her steady, nails deep in her soft skin when her pace quickens. 

You grin, Yeah? Better? 

Ellie nods and a hand slips between you, and you groan aloud when her fingers meet her slippery clit, the tips dripping wet in seconds as sloshing noises echo through her bedroom. Your arm wraps around her waist to yank her down, and she squeaks, back arching, chest shoving against yours. You done showin’ off? You grit against her cheek and she huffs. Ellie’s hands shove at your shoulders until you’re laying flat on the mattress, and you snicker. Her hold is strong on your chest as she bounces, her tits trembling every time she comes down. 

The way she says your name is intoxicating; so drawn out and velvety and makes your cunt tremor. Your eyes trap on how she touches herself; one hand settled on your chest while the other rubs at her clit, pulls at her nipples, makes them shine with her juices. You’re aching to touch her, but you stay put; let her have her fun.

You catch movement out the corner of your eye; Ellie’s trapped in another mirror off to the side, shrouded in pleasure: head thrown back while she cries at the ceiling, slurred flattery of how good you feel inside her igniting the flame in your core. 

Look how good you’re takin’ that shit, you groan and the muscles in her ass squeeze in the mirror; you can feel the ripples in her cunt pulling at your strap, and it nearly sends you. What you’d give to feel her flesh choking around you when she breaks, succumbs to pleasure while you explode inside her. It enrages you to no end. 

Your pupils meet at the bridge of your nose when a clammy hand inches up your chest to the column of your throat to rest. Ellie whines from above, a shaky C-Can I? You're about to make a mess all over her sheets. You hardly register the desperate bobs of your head, and her grip tightens around your neck. Pinches down on the sides, and your soul leaves your body. 

You like that? She snickers dark around a moan and fucks down harder onto your lap, You’re so fucking — holy, fuck —

Your hand clamps around her wrist and she squeezes harder; the hold is threatening, and your clit jumps. Your promises are wet and muffled; exclamations of m’yours melting on your tongue. Your girl is going to break you. 

Her efforts eventually slow, and you know she’s getting tired. You look up, right into her eyes and you nearly break. They’re pleading, imploring you to take care of me, make me cum for you; she eases into a steady grind, and the pressure from her hips add friction to your clit. You curse lowly, and she whimpers back. You’re already so close from how long you held off, but you don’t want to cum yet. She’s getting hers first. 

E-Ellie, get up—

You barely finish your command before she lifts up and off, strings of slick connecting her pussy and your dick together. Your maneuvers are quick; you’re up on your knees in seconds and grab her hips, guiding her until she’s on all fours, facing all of the mirrors at the front of her room. Your mouth waters at the sight of both holes pulsing sporadically, begging for your cock. 

Your hand deepens the arch in her spine until she’s face down on a lone pillow. Your heart swells when Ellie extends a shaky hand to you, fingers curling tight around the hand that rests on her hip. You kiss her wrist and she sighs happily. You grab your slippery dick and line it up at her entrance; her hips push back when you nudge inside, wet gasps leaving her as you split her all over again; but this time, you can see it. You’re moaning with her, a thin line of drool landing on her asscheek. 

It hurt, baby? You grunt, stupid with lust, body on fire, Huh? She can’t even talk, just shoves her face in the pillow and says your name, over and over. You push in deeper, and she groans, sobs, begs for you to fuck me, baby, fuck me fuck me fuck me, please—

That’s all it takes; your hands clutch tight on both hips to yank her back onto your cock. A shocked squeal rattles the four walls that enclose such filth when she’s finally stuffed full: she spurs on your aggression, jumbled yesyesyess hitting the pillowcase, her nails sinking into your wrist. Your strokes are deep; you watch how tight she grips your dick, plush pink milking every inch that leaves when you pull out, desperate to keep you in place, a light rim of cream building around her lips. 

You and Ellie’s teary eyes lock in the mirror on her dresser, her pink lips gaping around each crude praise she throws at you. It’s music to your ears.

You hi — hit it so good, baby! 

Just like that — oh, god, yeah! —

I love you so fuckin’ much!

Her messy hair flies in every direction, bounces with your thrusts, enticing you to grip it. Dark red wraps around your tight fist and you pull, and she goes stupid, eyes crossing in her skull and glossy drool hanging off the edge of her bottom lip.

Your yanks get her up until her sweaty back meets your chest, arch deepening when you lean into her, lips caressing her tinted ear. 

You love me, mama? 

She shudders on you, Fuck, yes — so fuckin’ much! Love this dick! 

Yeah? It’s yours?

F-Fuckin’ mine… A—All mine— 

You reach around to find her clit, and she gushes around you, Show me who it belongs to. You beg and she meets your hips, Get me fuckin’ nasty with it, cum all over your dick, baby, your words hit her like a threat, and she wails curses; sucks you all the way in when the tightness builds; you push in as deep as you can and it sends her over. Ellie’s thrashes and you're forced to hold her up, arm thrown around her chest while she grinds back onto you; you can feel how hard she’s cumming as the base jerks with her pulses, your name a constant on her tongue. You grind into her until she shakes, nails scratching at your hips to stop you. 

Ellie’s limp when you pull out, purple coated in white creaminess, and she whimpers like she’s begging you to come back home. 

Lay down, you choke. Your walls won’t stop clenching. 

She turns her head to kiss your neck before supporting her weight on her hands. 

Nuh uh, You tsk, On your back. Needa see you when I cum. You say, and she whines like a bitch, slick and cum flooding at her entrance. You help her maneuver and yank her closer until she’s staring up at you and her entrance lines up with your strap, eyes delicate and trusting and obsessed. The trees in them brush with ferocity and need for you; a tight hand squeezes her cheeks so her lips pucker, and you bend down to kiss her. It’s gross: desperate and uncoordinated tongues entangle with one another, spit spreading on the outside of each other's mouths, loud smacking noises filling your ears with lecher. It gets you hot, and you melt when Ellie’s hand blindly grabs for your dick to slide it between her sopping lips. Your body flattens on top of hers as she guides you in, her mouth opening around moans as you stretch her all over again. 

There’s still resistance; How’s she this fucking tight? 

Your hips follow her guide until you're nudged deep, barely half an inch of green exposed. Her thighs spread wider around your waist so you fit snug between, no space amidst your bodies. Your elbows rest on either side of her head, holding you up while your tongues swirl. Your knees dig into the mattress and your hips move on autopilot; your tongue dazedly licks over her lips to her jaw, bruising the skin a deep maroon. The sounds that erupt from her cunt are filthy, begging for your cum in earnest. 

Your eyes flutter open to study Ellie’s face; her body bobs when your hips meet, her eyes squeezed shut and her battered lips glistening, sinful verbiage spilling from her, completely brainless as her peak approaches. 

Your head drops into her neck and she holds you close, moaning against her throat with every deep thrust; the stimulation on your clit is nearly too much; You’re so sensitive, but you drill into her, take what’s yours. Her nails are deep in your back and it stings, wetness spilling from you from the pain. You’re hardly fucking her, just grinding your hips as you chase your release, filling her deep. 

She’s mumbling about how hard she’s going to cum. Yeah? You spit in her ear, Gonna fuckin’ cum? And she squeaks out curses in approval. Ellie’s moans pitch high before slick splatters on both your thighs, soaks through the sheets. You lift your heavy head to watch Ellie jerk and sob and confess her utter devotion to you as long as you continue to fuck her like this. You love her so fucking much; She deserves to feel this good; to wake up to pleasure and put back to bed with it.

Ellie’s orgasm breaks her; her babbles slur and crack as they hit your lips: you make me cum so good, fuck me ‘til you cum, I love you so fuckin’ much; she’s all over the place but she begs for your pleasure, begs for you to release . The pace in your thrusts rebuilds; you’re moaning in her mouth, clit throbbing in your soaked underwear. You can practically taste your release where it sits on the edge of your tongue, completely unbound when you slur promises;

Gonna give you all my fucking cum. 

You take in how far her pretty eyes roll at your confession, how cravingly she begs for you stuff her with sticky white; it makes your clit jerk, once, twice, until your walls pull in tight—

Ellie’s orgasm triggers your own; the pleasure is so intense that it’s painful and your vision whites out, all while she coats your waist in love and desire and slick. You’re both so loud and can’t keep still, sultry bodies trembling against one another. You grow lightheaded when Ellie’s hips fuck down and onto you to prolong your orgasm, voice dripping in seduction in your ear as she encourages you to fill her up, to keep her good and dirty. 

It feels like minutes pass when the pleasure finally subsides; you can’t stop shaking and there’s no strength in your limbs, resting completely weightless on top of your girlfriend. Your head rests in Ellie’s palms as she pecks all over your face, thanking you, asking if you’ve found any inspiration. 

You’ve never been so excited to draw an O face in your fucking life. You need new pens!

“… Ellie?” 

“Mhm?” She sounds just as wrecked as you feel, and a smile settles on your face. 

“D-Did I earn that eight?” 

She exhales a laugh before kissing your sweaty forehead, “And that five star Yelp review.” You wheeze out a celebratory yaaay and Ellie’s body rocks with laughter beneath you. 

The sun is going to rise soon. Ellie’s not tired. 

She loves dawn. It’s her favorite time of day: the giant, boiling orb just barely cresting from behind mountains, birds flocking and framing the rays of light, clouds orange and pink and a misty blue. She’s taken hundreds of pictures of that gorgeous scenery alone; It’s funny how she feels like something’s missing from them now that you’re back in her life. 

She wants you in the center of every picture she takes. In all of her favorite places… In her car, in her room, in water. You’re a fucking star on camera. 

A freshly showered Ellie rests on her bed(with new sheets… her blue ones are forever ruined) as she rolls up, eyes glued to the back of your head. You’re sitting on the floor, right on her fluffy rug, the sound of pen scratching against paper surrounding you, secluded in a space of peace. Proud can’t describe what she feels. 

Ellie seals the blunt as she imagines what you’re creating. You told her she couldn’t see until it’s finished, but she’s becoming impatient. Ellie’s nosy; She thought giving you puppy-eyes would work like every other time, but you simply got up and moved somewhere private with a twinkle in your eye. 

Ellie reaches for her lighter on her nightstand and sparks, “Wanna hit?” You deny calmly, focused, entranced by your imagery, and Ellie sighs. She's happy you’re easing back into drawing, but she wants attention. She’s in love; Sue her. 

Ellie puffs in silence. The more she inhales, the fonder she grows. Why’re you so far away? She smokes half the blunt before stubbing out the end, placing it on the ashtray on her small desk. She tries to be sly and creep behind you slowly to get a peak of your creation, but the shuffling of blankets exposes her. You whip your head and shut your book with quickness, a smirk on your face. Her bottom lip traps between her face to hide a smile when you ask, 

“Can I help you?” 

She inches closer until her lips graze your ear, inhaling her cinnamon body wash on you, “Come to bed?” 

“In a minute, baby, promise.” You whisper back when she kisses underneath your earlobe. She hums in disapproval, “Now.” 

“And if I don’t?” 

Ellie says the first thing that comes to mind, doesn’t even bother to play into your frisky threat. It’s terrorized her mind for the past four years, kept her company when you were gone and she had to settle with her own hand. 

You’re a fucking star on camera. 

“… You ever made a tape?” The proposal is quiet and husky, and your eyes turn to globes, stunned and instantly filled with darkness. 

“… Are you serious?” Ellie nods, her tongue teasing the shell of your ear, lips inching down to your neck, sucking at your shoulder. 

“Oh, you’re crazy.” 

“Come to bed.” Much more stern, and you shudder, tossing your book to the side. 

“How do cam-couples do this shit, what the fuck.” 

Ellie’s attention gets pulled from her tripod and lands on you, back arched with her iPad in both hands that extend out to the bed frame. The camera’s on you, trying to get the perfect capture of your ass, constantly adjusting your form. 

“It’s truly a skill,” Ellie mumbles back, securing her camera. She ensures that the plate won’t wobble before carrying it by the stand and placing it beside the bed. “You look excited.” 

“Excited like yaaay or excited like horny?” Your ass wiggles teasingly and Ellie snorts. 

“Both.” 

“Y’know, for someone who’s never done this, you look like a professional—“

Ellie scoffs, “I am a professional. Degree and two licenses—“

Your jaw slacks around moans and your hips thrusts back, “Fuuuck, that’s hot. Rub it in my face some more, it’s getting me so wet—“

Ellie stares blankly and you burst into cackles, dropping her device on the freshly made mattress.

“Nerdy Spider-geek wrecks school slut’s pussy non-stop orgasms—“

Ellie sits next to you, adjusting the lense, “What the fuck are you talking about.” 

You snort, “Our vid title. Or — orrr, I gotta better one! Constellation station makes astrology-loser girlfriend see the Milky Way—“

“No one’s gonna click that.” 

“I would!” The bed dips behind Ellie, and goosebumps rise on her skin when your lips connect with the muscles in her back. Graze all the way up her neck, “And you would, too. Lil’ freak.” Ellie’s core gives a tight squeeze. What a change of fucking events: used to be bullied over being the school’s freak show, and now her body’s begging her girlfriend to throw it in her face one more time. 

“I’m not posting anything.” 

You tsk, “A shame. Could’ve used that OnlyFans bag.” A dreamy sigh from you, “You know you can do whatever you want to me, right?” 

“I’ve been told.” 

“And I meant it.” You’re a fucking siren, “Your time to shine, baby. Nothing’s off limits in my book.” 

Ellie’s stern, “I’m not gonna hurt you.” 

“Whatever you like, I like. Wanna feel how wet you make me, space ranger?” 

You and Ellie are polar opposites, and somehow share the singular fucking braincell when you’re horny. You have the same effect on her. She turns her head to meet your eyes, “Can I fix the camera first?” 

A gentle peck on her cheek gets her body thrumming, “Ay, ay, captain.” And you fall back onto the mattress, rolling until you reach the other side of the bed. You’re up and running to the bathroom… with the 9M Sex bag in your hand. 

… Ellie’s never been more afraid(wet) than she is right now. 

The set up is ready. One tripod simply wasn’t enough to capture all that you bring; Ellie found another thrown in the back of her closet and got it situated, angled and ready, at the foot of the bed where her phone and iPad lay. She doesn’t know why she’s so nervous like you didn’t just beat her walls down a few hours ago. This discarded blunt isn’t helping her, either. 

Ellie’s confident that she’ll faint mid-stroke—

“Smells like pussy in here.” 

Ellie blushes and turns at your call from the bathroom entryway. She’s engulfed in flames at the sight of you. 

… You’re cute. She’ll give you that. 

She scoffs a laugh around smoke at the alien antennas in your locs, and the green alien head on the triangle of your thong. Her eyes squint as she watches you pose in the doorway, bent over, squeezing your breasts. She scales your body as you prance over until you’re standing in front of her, staring down into her eyes. 

“Whatcha think, space ranger?” You seduce, pushing your tits into her face, “Wanna teach a clueless little alien about sexual healing?” 

“You’re… insane.” 

“You love it,” … She does. Fuck, she does. You leer at her, “Is she rollin’?”

… Weed? Always.

… Camera. Camera! 

Ellie drags her free hand up the back of your thigh while sticking her blunt between her lips, blindly reaching around to the camera. Her fingers feel around until a small beep slices through the weighted silence, the red light indicating the start of a recording. 

“She is now.” Ellie takes one last rip, and it chokes her a bit, smoke wafting up to your nostrils before she stubs it out, discarding her tray and lighter to the side. The scent gets you giddy. 

You hum, and Ellie falls back at your shove, and 

she’s pounced on in no time. Your finger locks around her Spider-Man charm to pull her closer. You’re slow at first, teasing her mouth with yours before pecking, licking over her lips like a kitten while she gets handfuls of your bare ass. Boldness sparks in her chest when she thinks about the camera directly behind you; her hands move mindlessly, pulling your asscheeks apart until the string is right above your stretched asshole, your pussy lips swallowing the tiny triangle. 

You moan into her mouth when the bunched fabric rubs against your clit; the fabric is already soaked through and sticky, and the kiss breaks with Ellie’s satisfied grin. 

Adrenaline jolts through her body when her mouth trails down your jaw, a tight hand clamped around your soft cheeks to force your head wherever she needs it. She drinks up every small noise you breathe into the muggy air, mouth tickling the shell of your ear like a feather, Ride my fucking face, she whispers — demands; it sounds like she’s begging, and you gasp. 

Do it, Ellie beckons, Show out, superstar. 

Your girlfriend is so fucking sexy… But, of course, your dark thoughts win. 

“S-Should I make, like… alien noises when I bust, or somethin’? E.T, phone home type shit?”

Ellie snaps with a glare, “Don’t kill my fucking vibe.” 

“Okay, damn! My fault! Just tryna be cute for the vlog.” 

“… It’s not a fucking vlog—“

“Day in the life of annoying artistic lesbians who are also gay—“

“I'm drying up.” Ellie’s palms dig into her eyes. 

“No you’re not,” you purr before climbing up her torso. She grabs your waist before you reach her chin. 

“Turn around. Want the cam to see your face.” 

Your antennas wiggle on your head when you switch positions, “… Beep bop beepboop—“

You fall over in hysterics at Ellie’s hollered laughter. “Oh my — PFFFT —“

“STOP FUCKING LAUGHING!” You scream back at her, wiping tears from your face, “I’m tryna be cute!” You huff and swing a leg over her waist, and Ellie silences. The length of your back is on display for her; You’re cracking jokes about fucking alien sex but she’s not listening. How could she when your ass rests pert on her chest, when the sight of your dripping cunt and tight asshole is right there? Practically on her chin—

C’mere. Back up a little. She whispers, but you’re shy, only inching up her chest with sparkly eyes. Ellie rolls hers before wrapping her arms around your thighs to yank you back. She snickers and eyes the wet alien over your clit. 

Her smile drops when a sly hand slides over your ass, index finger hitching into the string of your thong to pull it to the side. A moan leaves Ellie’s mouth when your pussy clenches from above, and you snort mockingly. 

You’re easy as fuck. Such a cutie pie—

Shut the fuck up, you only laugh harder, and Ellie’s hands twitch, irritation sizzling in her fingertips. You’re so fucking annoying and she’s soaking. She’d drink you for days. 

The next moments go by in a flash; your thong is shredded by icy hands, dangling limply from your waist as excited squeals leave your mouth. Ellie’s tongue is aggressive where it swipes all over your cunt, arms synched tight around the meat of your thighs to hold you still. Your smell intoxicates her, turns her mind lucid, makes her squirm and ache. Every second that passes, her excitement to re-watch your creation grows. She wishes she could see you. 

You love cameras, attention — limelight. You deserve every inkling of praise; mutters against your cunt how good you are, how soft your pussy is, how bad she wants to make you cry. Ellie growls into you when your hips start rocking on her face, testing the waters with your hands planted on her thighs. Her arms drop flat on the mattress, allowing you full access to use her. Ellie’s tongue lays over her bottom lip, and your movements bolden. Your hips curl, slick smearing all over her mouth to the tip of her nose. 

F—Fuck, baby, oh shit— 

Ellie moans like she’s urging you to drench her entire face. Her tongue slithers inside your cunt and you choke out her name, nails sinking into her thighs. The muscle moves inside you with purpose, swirling up against your walls as they squeeze down. The cries that leave are too much for her; she swears there’s a puddle left on the blankets beneath her. 

When you gasp, fuck, baby, cumming for you, Ellie whimpers and her thighs squeeze together. Her arms pull you as close as she can get you, slurping and sucking at your clit as it pulses through your orgasm. You beg her not to stop, thighs quaking around her head. Ellie alternates from flicking your clit to sucking cum from your slit, and she envisions your gorgeous eyes rolled back beneath her eyelids. 

Wanna make me cum again, baby? Yeah? Your sonics tremble alongside Ellie’s thighs. She knows you're smiling like an angel at the lens and she sobs for more of your cum, more of your taste. Your moans pick up with the snaps of your hips once more. 

F-Fuck me with your tongue, Ellie, You plead and she listens; Your walls melt around her, softness closing in around the wet muscle. Ellie’s whole body twitches when a soft hand rests above her boxers, right on her swollen bud and rubs. She's bucking up into your palm, desperate for friction, but you don't... give it. She groans against your lips and sucks you harder, and you squeal.

It doesn't take long for you to peak again; slick glides down Ellie's chin and drowns her, coats her throat in dreamy stickiness with her nails in the fat of your ass.

She slurps and eats you up until you're running up the mattress with her name melted on your tongue.

“How the fuck — oh my fuckin’ god, put your head down—“

Ellie snickers at you struggling to get her in the frame of the iPad camera. She comfortingly rubs over your ass, “There’s a camera right in front of you, babe—“

“Not good enough. I’m tryna watch you hit it.” 

More jerking around. More flipping of the device. More sighs of annoyance before you strike gold. 80% of Ellie’s face is in frame… alongside her pretty titties. Mission somewhat accomplished. You watch her smile through the lens before sending a thumbs up. The iPad gets adjusted before you throw her one behind your head. 

“Uhhh… So what now?” 

“What do you mean.” 

“I just… stick it in?” 

“Mhm. Touch anywhere. Fuck me however you want. Make love to me. I’ll love it. I love you.” 

Your voice turns her into the largest puddle of pink glitter. That deep, broken twinge gets her bones sizzling. “I love you more.” 

Your hips buck back on her so hard that she almost falls over, but she managed to catch what you’re throwing. Barely. Her heart’s in her throat. 

“Prove it…”

Ellie can see your smile and her teeth grit at your snicker. 

“Fucking bottom.” 

Your head gets pushed down into the sheet, and you smile, antennas standing tall. You grin so goddamn wide. Lottery. Lottery— 

Everything is silent… Minus the little alert of the started recording when Ellie whispers against the curve of your ear, 

“Don’t start that shit again. Don’t.” 

You whimper as audibly as you can with a smushed cheek. It seems to push her; she’s reaching between your legs and your clit leaps in appreciation. In infatuation. Her fingers slosh between a deep brown and pink as she messily kisses your sweaty back. 

“Behave.” Her rubs are deadly on your clit, 

“I-I know we were joking earlier—“

“What now—“

“You like being called daddy?” 

Everything stops. Your brain never fails to ruin your satisfaction. “No, what the fuck—“

“Damn… forreal?” 

“Dude—“

“Just asking! You may proceed.” 

When Ellie senses that you’ll finally shut the fuck up, she does, and you’re happy again. 

“If you call me mommy, I’ll strangle you.” Ellie slurs wetly against the end of your spine. She tsks when she catches your ass and cunt squeeze down at the threat, walls sucking hard on the finger she hadn’t registered slipped in. Fucking high-fiving each other. 

The curve in your spine deepens when a certain tip rubs up against your clit. Nestles right in between the plump of your lips. Slides back and forth slowly. 

You’re so loud already… You’re watching your own nut build right in front of your eyes; You can’t help it. In front of your sexy ass girlfriend. Mainly due to the mirroring of Ellie staring at where you two connect with such thirst. She’s ravenous for you and you fucking love her. 

“Fuck me, baby, please, please.“ 

“I like that.” She states plainly, so you get louder. 

“Please, Ellie, please? Ple—”

A recording alert and a flash appears in your lens. Ellie holds her phone up as she captures you from the back; all over your spine, your ass, your holes that desperately twitch and beg for her entry. 

“Shhh, gotchu, honey. Just playing with you.” She coos quietly. Your body wracks at her voice and she hides a smirk with teeth in her lip. “Wish you could see how much you’re leaking right now. So fucking sexy.”

No brain. Brainless. You’re brainless. Just Ellie and pleasure and happiness and love. Your blinks are lost. You may never go back to your dad’s again. 

You can’t see her guide herself in but you feel it. Feel that nudge inside and your mouth gapes. The iPad tremors with your shaky movements as she presses in. She takes her time, captures every pant and jerk of hips before she halts them with a stern hand. When she’s fully sat inside you, she locks eyes with you in the front frame. Drinks in your muted pleads of her to wreck you however she pleases. 

Ellie holds your gaze when she pulls out. She’s battling; conflicted between watching how your eyes welt and shine or memorizing the stretch of your cunt. Jade crystals flit back and forth. Anywhere they can reach. 

H-How ya doin’ back there? 

A harsh thrust from your girlfriend earns her a guttural noise from your lips before she mumbles, Think m’ good. 

You are, baby, fuck—

Praise gets her going. She stops her own recording and tosses her phone some fucking where before hands close around your hips — tightly, so tightly. Holds you steady and still before she takes. 

Ellie might not use this fucking iPad footage. The screen fucking rattles every time she hits and crests deep inside you, bruising you. All that’s caught in the frame is your lovedrunk eyes and your loud, slobbery mouth and glittery antennas bouncing on your head. Quick glimpses of Ellie’s tits jumping. 

There’s a constant change of pace and it gives you whiplash. Her fucking goes from brutal to passionate to leisure to just fucking grinding while she’s fully submerged in your wetness. She’s experimenting, as she should! You treasure every grab and scratch and tug at your skin. She’s yanking and pulling at you like a fucking rag doll and your body goes lax. 

So does your fucking tongue, apparently. 

“The fuck did you just say?” Ellie spits down at you. 

But she doesn’t stop. She fucks you faster, and you start sobbing. 

“Y-You fucking heard me. I know you wanna—“

“I’m not saying that shit.” Her hips snap with intent to punish and the device falls from your hands, face planted deep in her soft blankets and tugging at her sheets. 

“Just say it! Sayitsayit—“

Ellie groans like an animal from behind you. Grabs the back of your neck and shoves your face down into her sheets, muffling your shouts and begs to degrade the living shit outta you. Call you disgusting names that got the two of you in that complicated mess when you first met. The slapping of wet skin and your screams make her crazed and wound up so tight that she almost slips. 

Ellie’s trying to ignore the piercing, tearful pleads of callmeaslutcallmeaslutimyourwhore but she’s leaking like a fucking faucet. Knows she shouldn’t reopen that fucking Pandora’s box when you’re so vulnerable, but she’s fuckdrunk and so are you. 

“You gonna cum?” 

You nod. 

“You like when I’m mean to you?” 

You nod faster and Ellie’s tummy squeezes. She scoffs a disgusting laugh before her body melds against your back, your angled knees slipping down the mattress so she’s fully laid on you, viperid tongue right at your ear… 

It's just this once... You know she loves you... One little jumbled slur wouldn't do too much harm. You're begging her for it, aren't you?

Something in your mind breaks over the next minute and a half. The last memory you have is Ellie’s teeth nipping at your lobe before she whispered, 

I love turning you into my nasty little slut. 

And that was that. You entered another universe filled with white noise and colorful lights and Ellie and… a lotta wet. You could’ve been in the Atlantic with how drenched her mattress is right now. You owe her an apology. 

Top 2 best nuts of your life and it’s not 2. 

Your pussy’s still twitching around her even though she’s left you immobile. You hardly register her mumble against your back, 

“I didn’t get my pic.”

You make a questioned, weak noise. Your index finger twitches, so she grabs your wrist to kiss it. 

“I needa pic of your O face. I’m starting a collection. We gotta run it back again.” 

Another broken wheeze. A death sentence is what you have. What your girlfriend will give you. 

Ellie was a virgin when you met her… but was she really? 

You have no idea what time of day it is, what day it is, or where your fucking cat has ventured off in the house, but you’re about seven —maybe eight— nuts deep, and your girlfriend is still fucking you. 

You thought she was joking when she shoved her phone in your hand and instructed you to capture the moment right before you bust all over her, but she actually meant it… What the fuck does she think you are? Smart? Not in this fucking state. How do you even work this goddamn phone again? 

C’mon, baby. I just need a good one. Give it to me ‘n I’ll stop. 

Her pleading moan is a double-ended sword. Your legs are so sore from being held in air as she plowed you, but you’re also a deranged, sex-obsessed, girlfriend-obsessed lesbo. Do you really want her to stop or has the dopamine melted all your brain cells? The amount of mid-orgasm photos you’ve taken over the past hour could’ve filled a museum, but Ellie’s always dissatisfied, saying that she can barely see your face because you kept wiggling around. What does she expect! 

She’s digging for that picture, though. Right at your cervix. 

Been such a good little slut. Taking it so good. Just do this last little thing for me. 

You’re nodding but you’re not listening. Bells and whistles ring in your ears as your filled hand shakes. The tightness in your walls steals your breath for a second. 

Tell me when you're boutta cum. 

You somehow manage to get a squeak out, barely audible, but Ellie gets the point. Her hands find refuge underneath your knees and bring them up higher while she mouths at your neck. It happens all over again; that cresting feeling right before you crash. 

I love you. Make it good. 

Ellie’s ears split at your shouts of her name, but she grins madly at the sound of frantic camera clicks coming from above her. She plants a doting kiss on your cheek. 

You hope you did. You really hope you did.

taggiessssss thanks 4 waiting :3 @dyk3ang3l @ellieloml @inf3ct3dd @fromminaa @womenofarcane @sawaagyapong @mina-281 @aouiaa @bbglmfao @i00rii @sakiigami @starologist @southelroys @diddiqueen @trackinglessons @ellieswhorcrux @villainousbear @p4ison1vy @tohoko @yuckyfucky @dollyfleurs @elsbunny222 @sevsbimbo @amiorca @alittlextrahoney @gato-chino @topiatwin @r3wbeef @elliesatchel @muthafuckingstargirl @callmewhenyoukan @macaroni676 @draculurasblog @ellieaesp @@gravygranules @elsblunt

[tmblrcolouredpaper]

TicTacToe, Kitty

Mundane shenanigans with Yeonjun who just returned from tour.

Yeonjun/GN!Reader

Fluff

literal sleeping together; kisses and cuddles and licks; crying; love confessions; showering together; acts of service; playful teasing; sharing clothes; clingy Yeonjun; nudity

wc: ~2500

'You're home early', you yawn as you turn around, extending an arm to where the matress dips.

'I hurried', Yeonjun chuckles and pulls your sleepy figure against him.

He smells like lotion, and his hair leaves damp spot on the pillow he moves you towards to. Not only must he have hurried to get home earlier than scheduled, but he also flowed through his evening routine. You didn't even hear him.

When you are so close that you are almost laying on top of him, he reaches over to push your pillow away, turning it downwards and tucks it against you. The light preasure on you back, warmed from your slumber, and Yeonjun's body directly on your front cradles you comfortably.

The hot summer air doesn't halt in front of the approaching darkness, and the recent nights were rather sleepless as you fought mosquitoes and your overheating body instead of resting. Other than Yeonjun, you relied on a blanket even during the warmest times of the year. Other than you, he relies on your cuddles. He argues that the rare time he has with you needs to be handled with maximized quality, and for him, literally feeling your presence on him is an important part. At least when he is joining you in bed, he wants one strong hug before proceeding to fall asleep.

'Comfy?', he asks in his soft, deep voice that itself can put you at ease in any situation.

He came up with ways to substitute the blanket during the night when it is only detrimental to your well-being. What you crave is some sort of calming pressure, so whenever Yeonjun finds you struggling to sleep, he builds a pillow wall around you in which you can cuddle into with your full body. You didn't tell him yet, but the best remedy is always his hand spread out flat on you.

'Yes, comfy', you assure and swing one leg over his hips, pinning him down with your thigh, and he instinctively slides his hand under it to secure you in your position.

Just like you get to find great comfort in Yeonjun's palm on your stomach, feeling his wamth with every breath, he enjoys your legs somewhat intertwined with his frame. Either he pushes his thigh between your legs when you lie on your side facing him, or yours copies the position of a seat belt. He always holds you by your hip, falling asleep while his squeezes of your love handles become lighter the more his consciousness drifts away.

'You smell good', you mumble into his chest and press your lips against his skin. It makes him chuckle every time. He responds with a lucrative caress of your back.

'I used your shampoo', he giggles and rolls fully onto his back.

You protest in a grumble, disliking your fence moving and opening the possibility of nothingness weighting against you.

'Lie on top', Yeonjun whispers, well aware of how much his movement could ruin your established comfort.

Clumsily and drunk on sleepiness, you crawl halfway on top of him and collapse against him with your arms sprawled around him, your head on his chest, your stomach pressing into his while your legs remain on your side of the mattess.

His breath is in synch with yours, and as you breathe in, you fill his lower belly press into yours. Simultaneously, you make it your task to get Yeonjun to sleep as much as possible, and for that, you have to commit to lulling him in. Hou let your thumb wander over his cheek, back and forth slowly but steadily, and his raspy sighs signify that it's working.

You become sleepy enough to drift off as well, but suddenly, an unpleasant buzzing sounds right next to your ear, and you panic. Your wild wave with your hand causes Yeonjun to get back to being properly awake.

'Mosquito?', he asks, and you nod, head between his chest and his palm as he shields you from any disturbance.

He pulls the pillow closer again and lets it drop partly on top of you, his palm gently resting on your exposed ear.

'It can't get through now', he promises and kisses the crown of your head before dropping back against his own pillow.

His hand is warm in your head, and his fingertips cradle your head perfectly, his thumb tenderly rubbing over the side of your neck. You mimic his movement with you holding onto your his shoulder.

'I wanna spend every night with you like this', he sighs and yawns.

You aren't left with enough energy to speak, so you hum in a whiny agreement.

'So tired?', he asks and sounds surprised, his fingertip rushing over your skin a bit slower.

You only tap onto his shoulder in a silent 'yes', and then you're gone.

Yeonjun observes your breathing for some time, entering a meditative state as he apitches between focusing on your quiet sounds and then the way you feel against him, identifying every single spot where your bodies are joint by touch. Soon, he falls asleep himself, not registering when you wake up before him, but automatically rolling over to hug you and keep you in his closest of close proximity when you move away a bit to stretch.

'I wanna take a shower', you sleepily mumble into his shoulder.

His front radiates his dreamy warmth and lulls you into the softness of the morning. You have time. There's no need to hurry. Therefore, you decide to let your body slump against Yeonjun, giving into whatever it feels like doing. That happens to be entering the state of being half asleep, vaguely dreaming yet conscious of your surroundings. Yeonjun's low grumbles and sighs make you want to answer with the same sounds, so you start mirroring him.

It's all fun and games until he lets out a delicious, longstretched moan. You giggle before your vocal cords are able to catch onto the initially intended sound. Yeonjun repeats the moan, snuggling against you so that his lips are pressing right onto your ear. His fingers on your waist start moving. The ticklish sensation only reduces your accessible actions to laughter, and soon enough, you find yourself pinned onto the matress with Yeonjun on top of you, altering between ticking your skin with his fingers and his lips.

'You don't need to shower', he whines, giving you a break to catch onto your breath or at least to the degree that his bodyweight on top of you allows and that is fortunately more than being tickled condones.

'No? What if I want to?' ,you ask, intuitively running your fingers through his hair as he burries his face in the crock of hour neck.

'I'll clean you', he muffles against you, and a soft wetness appears under your ear.

Goosebumps creep over your thighs and arms, and you involuntarily grip Yeonjun's hair. The urge to hold onto something to not collapse from the surprising sensation is intense.

'Yeonju- jun', you stutter, a tremble in your voice, 'We're not cats'.

He adds two more licks over the full length of your neck and then lifts himself up, face appearing mere millimetres in front of yours.

'So what?', he asks challenging and leans down to tap the tip of his tongue against your bottom lip.

It's an odd act, yet it makes you smile. His playfulness always has this sense of comfortability. As much as he is aware of social connotations, for him, they initially don't matter. He doesn't cause any harm. He just lives according to his personal curiosity. If that means cuddling includes some experimental links of your skin, then be it. You pulling him against you, leaning I to his alternative touches with a happy sigh, is definitely the nonverbal agreement that Yeonjun peripherally looks out for during every of his moves.

'Do you wish you were a cat?', youa ask in a chuckle, because you can feel his tongue move along your lips while speaking. Yeonjun tries to keep his tongue on you, literally fishing for contact.

With a final proper kiss, he plopps back down, moulding against you with his head, utilising the junction of you and the bed.

'Would you be a cat, too?', he asks and kneads the skin of your waist, pressing his palm into you and lightly flexing and bending his fingers like those of a cat's paw.

You think for a mere moment, then answer: 'No, but I'd let you take naps on my lap and feed you'.

'Sounds like I'm already your cat', he laughs, and the soft air blow feels as good as hearing him happy does.

For a while, you just remain tangled together, sporadic whispers not louder than the hue of the distand wind that secretly makes its way though the open window reinforces the sentiment of connection.

'You're pretty', he let's out, eyes hooded in a dreamy gaze that you are sure of being generated by his sleepiness.

You take it in silently, nontheless answering in a smile that immediately appears on his lips only mere seconds later.

'Damn, that smile', you hush and let your fingertips wander over his lips to memorize his the shape of his happiness, every curve, every bump, every dry patch of skin as well as his tongue that he just needs to poke out to tease you.

When you pull back to place your hand on his waist, you feel like going for a swim. So you jump. Your eyes meet his, and you alter between focusing on his brown ones and the refection of yours. He barely blinks. When he does, the wave of his eyelashes clears the sea. After a while, you co fortably drown. There are tears forming in the corner of his eyes, and in a choking breath, he pulls you against him, his hand on the back of your head to cradle you into his neck away from his gaze.

'I love you', he says, and you gently push against his chest, his heartbeat strong and fast against your palm.

His cheeks are full of tears when he obeys your wish for some distance between your bodies, and the hint of fear in his eyes breaks your heart. Quickly, you push yourself up and crash your lips on his, taking away his fear of rejection, the isolation of being left alone with his emotions, and he sighs into your mouth, relieved.

The miniscule space between you is used to catch onto your breaths, but you stick your tongue out and lick over his tips when his eyes look hazed, his mind probably both full and empty at the same time. You giggle at his obvious shock and let him tackle you into the matress, his voice sounding in a mixture of horse laughter and sob, his body confused of the appropriate function according to the abundance of emotions.

'Stop, stop!', you squeal, exhausted before you even left the bed.

'I really need to shower now', you laugh.

Yeonjun sits up and releases his grip on you, smiling down on your messy hair and scrunched up shirt. You give him a long kiss, leaning into his frame to cuddle for two more minutes to get used to being in a vertical position. Then you wander to the bathroom.

The hot water fogges up the glass of the shower door. On the floor are still wet spots from Yeonjun's nightly shower. You only hear the door open and close and roll your eyes. Of course, he can't wait. It's like his patience is out of the window when he returns from tour. All the mundane information he got from you during calls needs to be experienced in person now. He knows he can't catch up on time with you, and you keep assuring him that he wouldn't have to, but surely his intentions are clear when a change of environment happens. He wouldn't miss out on you when you both have time being at home together and enjoying each other's presence. Not even a shower could come in between him and shared quality time.

The warm water runs over your back, and you swing your body from side to side to bring some dynamic into the awkward procedure of cleansing your skin.

He hurries inside the stall, still only dressed in his boxershorts, and closes the door to keep the warm air in. Two lines appear on the glass. Yeonjun is forming a peace sign and lets his index and middle finger glide over the surface. He draws a grid and puts a cross into one square. Tic Tac Toe. You choose to place a circle into the middle, and after a view more moves, you win. He grins and proceeds to draw another grid.

Automatically, you wash your hair and rins out the shampoo, Yeonjun waiting for you to be ready to add circles. You end the shower with winning two and losing three times. While you wrink out your hair, Yeinjun already steps out and spreads your towel. He embraces you in a practical hug during which he wraps the fabric around you.

'I love you', you beam, the joy of having him join your daily life so playfully and with the ease of his consistent support giving you a sense of luxury throughout the simplest activities such as falling asleep or taking a shower.

'I love you, too', he replies right away, giving your forhead a kiss before he secures the towel around you and walks off to his closet.

You can observe him through the open door. He inspects his clothes and hums a to you unfamiliar melodie. Maybe it's one of the unreleased songs he's supposed to keep a secret.

'Have you been wearing my clothes?', he asks loudly.

'They are not in the same places I left them', he adds and returns with a bunch of shirts and jeans shorts.

'You're a cat. You don't need clothes anyway', you argue, because at this point, he should be used to the fact that his closet is as much yours as the other way around.

'So I'm supposed to run around naked? You would like that, huh?', he grumbles, ironically standing almost completely naked in front of you.

'At least learn how to combine pieces. The outfits I saw you wearing during our video calls were a mess', he comments and hands you an outfit.

'Gotta stay on brand', you joke and dry your skin, proceeding to get dressed.

Yeonjun watches you and tenderly hugs you once you are in his clothes.

'You are my mess. Not everyone needs to be able to know you as easily as you let me know you', he mumbles and hands you the rest of the clothes he brought.

'What?', you ask, confused to what to to, questioning if he wants you tidy up after him now.

'I picked your outfit, you pick mine', he explains.

'I thought I pick bad outfits?'

'Practice makes progress'.

[tepkunset]

Rating all* the Hellfire Gala 2023 Outfits in my Correct Opinion

*At least, all that I can find, because Marvel decided fuck making that easy in a little book or a single post like last year.

(Long post alert!)

Iceman, I love most of this look. The accented orange is perfect for the mostly blue look, and I love that he has a matching earring for his cuff-links. Such a nice touch! But those rubber boots, man... those rubber boots ruin it for me. 8/10

Fisk is giving off some Doctor Doom vibes with this outfit. I love the regalness of it, especially the golden leaves behind the ear. 9/10

??? I'm not sure who this is, but their outfit looks like they're going to a Halloween party rather than a gala. 3/10

Emma, oh my god, YES. Almost always delivering, and this is definitely one of those cases! 10/10

Xavier... I hate to say it, but I genuinely love this look. He's bringing major space man vibes, and it's super elegant at the same time. 9/10

Bishop doesn't even get points for effort. He got a red suit then slapped some belts on it. Boring as fuck. 1/10

I was about to write another "???" because I had no idea who this was, until it occurred to me that I think this is supposed to be Scarlet Witch? Except she is super duper whitewashed, so I did not even recognize her. Auto-failure regardless of the look. 0/10

Proteus looks moderately snazzy, but out of the Five is the least interesting in my opinion. 3/10

Egg has a cool coat, but those balls around his neck are way too big and awkward. 4/10

Hope looks a little like a fairy princess here, and I like that! 7/10

Tempus looks like she's going to a prom more than a gala, and I don't know what's going on with that giant shoulder piece. Did Cable lend it to her or something? 4/10

Elixir, my golden boy, is embracing the shiny and I love it! 9/10

Exodus seems to be trying out a new costume rather than a gala look, but in terms of style, it's fine. 5/10

Vision's outfit is as boring as he is. 1/10

Miles, holy shit. Miles should be giving lessons to everyone else on how to actually make a suit look unique! Bishop, take notes. 9/10

Old Laura looks like she's dressed for a gothic funeral more than a gala, but at least that's to her style rather than some crazy OOC look. So, points for that. 5/10

T'Challa... I. Am. Swooning. I know he's not a king right now but damn does he ever look like it in this outfit. The beautiful patterns and complimentary colours, holy shit. 10/10

Synch has certainly done way better in the past. It's just a plain black suit without a shirt, for fuck sake. 2/10

Captain Marvel looks like she's a marching bad, lol. The stars in the hair are a nice touch, though. 3/10

Jean's look is, I know, divisive. I've seen some people say they adore this design, and some people say they hate it. I'm personally on the fence. I think it would be better without the stupid helmet, that's for sure. And I think it looks a little too much like an Emma Frost design, if you were to just colour it white. 5/10

Fantomex? Where the fuck have you been? Anyway, he literally just looks like he always looks but with some sunglasses lmfao. 0/10

Dylan looks like a moody teen as ever, lol. I do like the black and white though. 6/10

Black Cat... Like I said, I like black and white together, but this is giving me too much Cruella de Vil vibes. 4/10

Mary Jane just picked up an evening gown off the rack I guess. 2/10

Firestar, I think? Not actually positive if it's her. Anyway, the sleeves are a bit too much for me, but I love the fiery frills on the cape. 5/10

Thor looks so ugly here lmfao I'm sorry but I hate this look. It's way too clunky. 0/10

At first I thought this was Kwannon, but then I remembered seeing panels and I believe it's Kitty/Kate. Anyway, I like the lace-up boots and I like the frills. 7/10

Hellcat looks like she's took some inspiration from a wrestler's pre-fight look, and I like that. It's simplistic but just enough stylish to pass. 6/10

Nova, going with a tits out look as well I see. I like the feathered shoulder pads, and I like the skirt. 6/10

Moon Knight, oh my god, I have a strong feeling it was Steven who pulled the strings to get a gala look, because there's no fucking way Marc or Jake would be caught dead there. Anyway, this is exactly the type of vibe I would expect from MK, maybe even a bit more playful than that with the mesh part of the top. And I really like it up until the strange boots. He and Iceman must've compared notes or something. Still, 8/10

Psylocke - now THIS is Kwannon for sure! I like the classical ninja meets evening gown look, and I like that she's sexy but not to the point of being objectified, which is a refreshing change for how artists often treat her. 8/10

Destiny and Mystique I will rate together because the score is the same: A what the fuck level of 0/10.

Forge looks fucking awesome, especially compared to last year. I love the fringe and the scarf and the jewellery and the cane... it's a complete look that gives me great vibes. 8/10

Cyclops, come on, man. You can do better than this, can't you? He looks like Mister Sinister dressed him or something. 1/10

Cuckoos look like they stepped off the set of Tron: Legacy. Or a Daft Punk concert. Not complaining to be clear, this look fucks. 10/10

[newx-menfan]

While I will eventually DO a write up on X-23/ Laura Kinney….

I just want to say THIS after seeing post after post about it on tumblr…and frankly feeling really uncomfortable with it….

Saying Laura is “asexual” and can’t be in a sexual relationship/dress a certain way because she was raped/sexually abused in NYX, when she was a minor…IS in my opinion…kind of problematic (I would say the same about people representing Magik as “asexual” solely because of her childhood abuse, when there’s multiple moments of subtext that she desired Kitty in a sexual way…)

There is literally NO evidence that asexuality is related in any way to experiencing rape/sexual violence, and that stereotype is often used to stigmatize and pathologize asexuality. Linking those two things, in my opinion, actually takes away peoples agency and seems almost subtly shaming- “your identity isn’t real, it’s just a reaction to trauma”…

It REALLY bugs me to see this stereotype represented and frankly I personally feel feeds into “you have to behave a certain way to be a ‘real’ victim”…

Lots of individuals who experience rape/abuse go on to have meaningful, healthy sexual relationships and there’s nothing WRONG with that. It doesn’t mean what they experienced was less valid or less real.

Laura desiring Hellion (she literally watched him half naked while he slept and was obviously upset when he said Sofia’s name) doesn’t in some way objectify her or negate her history in any way.

While I think her relationships with Synch and teen Angel could have been handled better and possibly touched on some of that trauma…I don’t feel representing her in a sexual relationship is “objectifying her”.

It just frankly kind of pisses me off that people act like writing Laura being represented in a relationship is somehow offensive- like victims of rape/SA can never have a sexual relationship again or are somehow “damaged” 😑

[heckcareoxytwit]

Emma Frost and Kitty Pryde get a message from Tony Stark and Firestar. The latter (Firestar) tells them that she is doomed to die as Doctor Stasis found out that she is spying on Orchis all along. Tony Stark urges the two X-Women to bring Firestar back alive or if they fail to do so, she must be avenged. Much later, Doctor Stasis is running away like a dirty coward until he is stopped by Kitty Pryde and Emma Frost. Meanwhile, Synch manages to rescue Firestar from execution thanks to his power-synching which allowed him to detect a nearby mutant. Back to the hangar, Doctor Stasis gets his mind violated by Emma Frost who telepathically forces him to feel the pain of getting beaten up by many angry mutants. Suddenly, they get interrupted by the angry Firestar who crashes into the hangar to burn Doctor Stasis to crisp in her revenge for being used and nearly-killed by him. Emma Frost congratulates Firestar for having her killer instinct in getting her revenge on Doctor Stasis.

Fall of the House of X #3, 2024

[souurcitrus]

In my universe, Earth-18104, the X-Men had three schools in different times, the Xavier Mansion changed names every time a new "era" started, according to the story and the events of that time.

The story of the Xavier Institute is based in the comics and influenced by other events of this universe, that are based in other medias like the movies and comics, and don't follow the time-line of the comics in a precise way, because I wanted to give this universe a more real feeling of time passing slowly and the characters aging different from each generation.

So... yeah, some characters are older or younger than they are in the comics.

Here are some of the students that were enrolled in each school. And here the list of other groups of young superheroes.

• Xavier Institute for Gifted Young People (1972 - 1999)

The first school, of course, when Xavier still had to keep his and his students' identities a secret. People believed it was just a private school, even thought it had only a very few students, at first.

The first students were the original X-Men of 1972, trained by Xavier, Magneto, Mystique, Mastermind, Moira MacTaggert and Destiny (based on the movie X-Men First Class):

• Armando Muñoz / Darwin (16)

• Suzanne Chan / Sway (17)

• Vienna Adamsen / Petra (16)

• Sean Cassidy / Banshee (20)

They later all went to Muir Island to train with Moira, after Xavier suffered the injury that let him paralyzed.

In 1989, Xavier trained the second X-Men, the Original Five or X-Men '92:

• Jean Grey / Marvel Girl (17)

• Scott Summers / Cyclops (16)

• Bobby Drake / Iceman (15)

• Warren Worthington III / Angel (17)

• Henry McCoy / Beast (18)

Later in 1995, Lorna Dane / Polaris (20) and Alex Summers / Havok (17) joined the team.

At the same time, Moira had her own team if X-Men in Muir Island, trained by Petra, Sway and Darwin:

• Christopher Bradley / Bolt (14)

• Gabriel Summers / Vulcan (13)

• James Madrox / Multiple (16)

• David Haller (17/18)

In 1996 Kitty Pryde / Sprite (13), Alison Blaire / Dazzler (16), Gailyn and Joseph Grey / Shatter-Box (10) joined the school. And in 1997, it was Rogue (17) and Ruth Aldine / Blindfold (17).

*Shatterbox are minor characters in the comics. Blindfold is older than her counterpart in the comics, and acts as a mentor and counselor to the next students.

In 1997/1999, the Xavier Institute was turned into a real school, and thought he did not wanted to put more children in danger, Xavier created a new team of X-Men, the New Mutants:

• Illyana Rasputin / Magik (13)

• Xuân Cao Manh / Karma (15)

• Danielle Moonstar / Mirage (16)

• Sam Guthrie / Cannonball (16)

• Roberto da Costa / Sunspot (15)

• Rahne Sinclair / Wolfsbane (15)

• Amara Aquilla / Magma (15)

• James Proudstar / Warpath (14)

• Douglas Ramsey / Cypher (12)

• Warlock

* Illyana Rasputin was 6 years old before joined, however, after her time in the Limbo, she came back to her world as a 13 years old teenager. James Proudstar was brought to the school by his older brother after leaving the Hellions. And Jonh Proudstar never fucking died.

In 1999, Banshee and Emma Frost took care of a new class of mutants, the Generation X:

• Paige Guthrie / Husk (17)

• Angelo Spinosa / Skin (16)

• Jubilee (17)

• Monet St. Croix / Penance (17)

• Claudette and Nicole St. Croix / M (9)

• Jonothon "Jono" Starsmore / Chamber (18)

• Everett Thomas / Synch (17)

These kids were gathered and chosen as X-Men after being rescued from the Phalanx, however Clarice Ferguson / Blink (14) was lost after destroying the enemy and was only found years later. Not by the X-Men.

In 2000/2001, Apocalypse was awaken from his slumber and the X-Men fought against him and his Horsemen. In 2004, the Infinity Gaulent arc happened, and half of the universe was gone (Like in Avengers: Endgame), and only restaured in 2010.

The people turned to dust in this break of time didn't aged.

• Xavier Institute for Higher Education / Xavier Academy (1997 - 2004) and (2010 - 2017)

After these events, the Xavier Institute changed names again. Xavier, Jean Grey, Emma Frost, Hank McCoy, Logan and Scott Summers were the ones in charge.

The mansion was had more of a structure to resemble a real school, and even had a student body, more classes, etc.

In school year of 2011/2012 (September to june) the events of E is for Extinction and Riot at Xavier's took place. The students at the time were:

• Angel Salvadore / Tempest (15)

• Barnell Borhuk / Beak (15)

• Glob Herman

• Sophie, Phoebe, Irma, Celeste and Esme Cuckoo / The Stepford Cuckoos (14)

• Jebediah "Jeb" Guthrie (12)

• Melody Guthrie / Aero (15)

• Vincent Stewart / Redneck (15)

• Christian and Christine Cord / Radian and Tattoo (15)

• Quentin Quire / Kid Omega (14)

• Hong Liange (11)

• Lucy Priest / Butterfly (16)

• Carlo Brewster / Gelatin (14)

• Abraham Verne / Caput (15)

• Dana Holmes / Polymer (15)

• Alisa Tager / Cipher (11)

• Ellie Phimister / Negasonic Teenage Warhead (12)

• Kutsuna Yukio (12)

• Gabrielle and Michael Diwa / Galura and Arauto (13)

• Dean Boswell / Dummy (15)

• Martha Johansson (9)

• Ernst (10)

• Hisako Ichiki / Armor (13)

• Edward Tancredi / Wing (12)

• Quincy Marrow (14)

• Stan Finch / Silicon (14)

• Leong Cao Mạnh (11)

• Nga Cao Mạnh (11)

*Kutsuna Yukio is the version of Yukio from Deapool 2; The Stepford Cuckoos are only three years old chronologically, but aged faster, so they are 14 years old physically and mentally. Quentin Quire had just turned fourteen and lost his body, being stuck in his astral form, he couldn't age and stayed in this form for the next six years

*For the love of God, Beak and Angel didn't fucking had children. What the fuck these writers had in mind???? They're teenagers. Jeb and Melody Guthrie should be older, but they were among the victims of Infinity Gaulent.

During 2013/2014, the events of Academy X, New X-Men, and Young X-Men in 2015 took place. During this time, we had the events of M-Day, Civil War and the Stryke's attack took place.

• Jay Guthrie / Icarus; Dallas Gibson / Specter; Callie Betto / Dryad; Sofia Mantega / Wind Dancer; Phoebe, Irma and Celeste Cuckoo / The Stepford Cuckoos (16)

• Kevin Ford / Wither; Hisako Ichiki / Armor; Julian Keller / Hellion; Sooraya Qadir / Dust; David Alleyne / Prodigy; Noah Crichton / Hydro (15)

• Cecily Kincaid / Mercury; Santo Vacarro / Rockslide; Kutsuna Yukio; Brian Cruz / Tag; Sidney Green / Onyxx; Laura Kinney; Edward Tancredi / Wing; Nick Shelley / Flubber; Laurie Collins / Wallflower; Noriko Ashida / Surge; Josh Foley / Elixir; Eric Gitter / Ink; Maxwell Jordan / Quill (14)

• Alisa Tager / Cipher; Megan Gwynn / Pixie; Hong Liange; Paras Gavaskar / Indra; Sarah Vale / Network; Jessica Vale / Preview; Nezhno ABidemi / Gentle; Lazaro Kotikash / Kidogo; Alani Ryan / Loa (13)

• Andrea Margulies / Rubber Maid; Ben Hamill / Match; Mark Sheppard / DJ; Victor Borkowski / Anole; Jeffrey Garrett (12)

• Ernst; Roxy Washington / Bling!; Martha Johansson; Nick Gleason / Wolf Cub; Hope Abott / Trance; Carl Aalston / Rain Boy (11)

Like in the comics, some of these characters lost their powers and died, with a few exception surviving and leaving the role as X-Men. The few that survived and kept their powers after M-Day stayed and then later moved to Utopia/Genosha.

After this, the Xavier Institute was destroyed and the Graymalkin Lane was left empty until 2018. In 2017, with the return of Hope Summers, a new group of X-Men was formed in Utopia, the Lights, though they did not resided at the Institute.

• Hope Summers (15)

• Gabriel Cohuelo / Velocidad (16)

• Laurie Tromette / Transonic (17)

• Teon Savko / Primal (15)

• Idie Okonkwo / Oya (13)

• Kenji Uedo (19)

Hope Summers was born just a few years before the Lights, but since she was raised in the future she is 14 years old when she comes back. Later, Megan Gwynn / Pixie (16) joined the team, taking Oya's place.

After the Schim caused, the X-Men split in two. Quentin Quire had returned in a new body, but he was still 14 years old, the same age he was when he "died"

• Jean Gray School for Higher Learning (2018- )

In 2018, Wolverine went back to Westchester and rebuilt the mansion, trying to give the place the feeling of real school. The students also could only start training when they were in 9° grade and could train to be X-Men and join teams (like in Academy X) after they were in 10° grade.

He made a deal with the Shi'ar to have technology to protect the school, as long he accepted the son of Gladiator, asked to be Quentin's guardian and they had a clone of Krakoa as they grounds.

A few old students joined the school in the first year, and a few only in the second and third year. The school opened in August of 2018.

(This list of students include some of my OCs, since I'm writing a fanfic that happens in the Jean Grey School)

• Hisako Ichiki / Armor; Julian Keller / Hellion; Gabrielle and Michael Diwa / Galura and Arauto (19)

• Cecily Kincaid / Mercury; Santo Vacarro / Rockslide: Kutsuna Yukio; Ellie Phimister / NTW; Noriko Ashida / Surge; Eric Gitter / Ink (18)

• Alisa Tager / Cipher; Hong Liange; Paras Gavaskar / Indra; Nezhno ABidemi / Gentle (17)

• Cam Long / Tiger; Aura Charles / Aurora; Crosta (16)

• Ben Hamill / Match; Victor Borkowski / Anole; Iara dos Santos / Shark Girl; Roxy Washington / Bling!; Martha Johansson / Cerebela; Zane Yamaguchi / Juggernaut 2; Hope Abott / Trance; Carl Aalston / Rain Boy (15)

• Idie Okonkwo / Oya; Prince Kubark / Gladiator; Trevor Hawkins / Eye-Kid; Charge OC; Julian Creed / Menace OC (14)

• Evan Adel / Genesis; Jiang Mei, Sprite (13/14); Hunter Creed / Rescue OC (12/13); Broo

*Broo is only five months old, Evan is a clone so he aged faster than the Cuckoos, chronologically he was "born" a few months before being enrolled. The school was never moved to Manhattan like in the comics.

Later, Huang Lin / Nature Kid; Michela Ladak; Joseph and Josephine Bricklemoore / Tri-Joe and Squid Girl joined the school.

Even after the death of Wolverine in 2021 and the creation of Krakoland in 2023, the school stayed open, and the X-Men hope it stays this way for many years.

[ohworm-writes]

I just thought of an au where firefighter!schlatt saves an orange cat from a burning building and guess who that cat it? ITS JAMBO. 

and jambo becomes the resident kitty at the fire station. 

HOLY FUCKING SHIT WAIT WAIT WAIT YOU'RE SUCH A GENIUS

Imagine some older woman call in and it's transferred to the department that there's this cat she's been feeding that lives in the abandoned building across the street from her and it's on fire.

So they send the boys out (with Schlatt driving, of course) and while everyone else works to put out the fire, Schlatt is the one who runs in the building to find the feline.

And what would you know? There's this little orange kitty curled in a corner on the second level at the end of the hallway, shaking like a leaf and yowling out for help.

And Firefighter!Schlatt scoops the feline up, holding him close to his chest, the poor thing wriggling and yowling and trying to scratch and bite him, but Schlatt doesn't relent, scanning the rest of the area for anyone (which, thankfully, the building is empty) and he exits to the fire almost completely out.

He goes to the truck, taking out a package of animal treats (one of his buddies had thought it would be a good idea in case the situation arose where they'd have to tend to an animal) and hands a pile up to the cat's face.

While hesitant, still trapped in Schlatt's iron hold, consumes the small pile of treats quicker than the time it took for Schlatt to retrieve them.

'Hungry thing, aren't 'ya?' He'd mumble under his breath, carefully placing the animal on the ground afterwards, to which it decides to stay in place as Schlatt retrieves a canteen of his own water, pouring it out into his now ungloved palm, and the kitty laps away.

The older woman, who had made the initial call, walks over to the engine once the fire is completely extinguished, taking in the sight of the cat she decided to refer to as 'Jambo', the most skittish, frightened thing she's ever seen, willingly pressing his face against this firefighter's hand.

And she can't help but grin.

Firefighter!Schlatt hearing the woman approach and discussing with her what the next step for the feline was- who would take him in and take care of him and whatnot?

She smiles fondly at the two of them, Jambo affectionately passing through and between his legs with a few meows here and there. Nodding her head backwards towards the Chief, she informs him that she could maybe convince the Chief to allow the animal to be housed at the station, given that he was a long time friend of hers.

And what would you know? She convinces the Chief straight and clear, and once Firefighter!Schlatt and his crew get in the engine, ready to leave, the Chief comes up to his window, slinging his arm through and telling him in a bored tone that he could keep the cat.

"Florence back there tol' me the situation, and that little feline friend of yours." The Chief takes a deep sigh, placing his hand between the kitten's ears whose situated on Firefighter!Schlatt's lap. "You c'n keep him 'round, but he's your responsibility alone. Understood?" Firefighter!Schlatt would nod, his enthusiasm held under a sheet of sensibility.

"She also said the fella's name was 'Jambo'."

And that would be it. Jambo, Ladder 131's kitty mascot. He'd sleep on everyone, everywhere he could, trying to take bites out of everyone's food and magnets and, of course, sleeping on the dashboard of the engine, purring in synch with the hummm of the vehicle with a little collar of his own- a home of his own.

[patrickdiomedes]

RWBY/X-Men crossover thoughts

So, I've been thinking recently about a "What if Magneto was Pyrrha's dad?" fic, what with the magnetism. And then I started wondering about just bringing all the X-characters into RWBY. (possibly in the wake of whatever shitshow the end of the Krakoa Era turns into.)

Now, on the one hand, it'd make sense to have all the Mutants be faunus, but I don't wanna go that route. So instead, various mutants have been appearing for all of Remnant's history. Some of them remember their past in the 616 universe, most don't, only having vague feelings of deja vu sometimes when meeting another mutant. Not that they're technically "mutants" here, as the X-Gene is replaced by semblances. So on the one hand, mutants are no longer hated and feared. On the other hand, they're living on a death world with an immortal being who controls an army of monsters. (It's honestly kinda nostalgic for the Arakki mutants).

So far, the only concrete idea I have for any of the mutants is Magneto being Pyrrha's dad, and Wanda, Pietro, and Lorna being her siblings (Fuck you marvel, Wanda and Pietro are his kids and they're mutants) I'm thinking that Charles actually was part of Oz's inner circle several lifetimes ago, and they tried using his telepathy (along with some kind of power amplifier) to tell a whole kingdom (or a chunk of one) about Salem. It went...poorly, and was a contributing factor in Oz's secrecy in the present day.

Other ideas:

Sebastian Shaw is one of Jacques Schnee's chief business rivals. Doesn't remember his previous life, other than the odd bit of deja vu, and having an instinctive knowledge of how his semblance worked as soon as it activated. Worked in either a dust mine, or a dust refinery, and his semblance activated during a workplace accident. Ghira Belladonna's chief competition in the "Remnant's Most Glorious Chest Hair" contest.

En Sabah Nur would be a relic of the early humans, before the gods wiped them out. He still sleeps beneath the sands of Vacuo (possibly along with his kids and wife). Could do something with the Crown from the two Team CFVY novels wanting to awaken him, rather than just restoring the Vacuan Monarchy.

Just realized that the Aura Transfer tech Ironwood was developing could've been developed by someone who studied Apocalypse's mind transfer stuff. Even though if this is krakoa era Apoc, he no longer needs to do that.

the O5 x-men would be contemporaries of team STRQ, along with the team from Giant Size #1. That's Cyclops, Jean, Beast, Bobby, Warren, Nightcrawler, Storm, Wolverine, Banshee, Colossus, Thunderbird, and Sunfire, which does make for 3 teams of 4, if we're assuming that all of them were students of the huntsman academies. Maybe they were all from the other 3 academies, with STRQ at Beacon? Though Rogue, Havok and Polaris throw those numbers off. Though Rachel and Betsy bring it up to 16, so i guess it still works out.

I personally would have Hank as part of Ironwood's inner circle after the fall of beacon, with both of them exacerbating each others negative tendencies. I like Hank's villain turn, and feel like it's a natural progression of his character since at least the 90s (Justice for Threnody, motherfucker)

I'd put the New Mutants as a bit older than team RWBY, probably around the same age range as Winter, Cinder and the Ace Ops.

That's Cannonball, Mirage, Karma, Cypher, Magik, Wolfsbane, Magma, Sunspot, and Warlock. Not counting Warlock (who I have no idea how to work him in) that makes 8. Kitty would probably fall into this group too

This leaves Generation X and Academy X as contemporaries of team RWBY.

this is the group I know the least about. But that would be Chamber, Jubilee, Monet, Skin, Synch, Bling!, Eye Boy, and Quentin Quire for Generation X. Maybe have them be upperclassmen to RWBY's freshmen

then Academy X is Elixir, Icarus, Prodigy, Surge, Wallflower, Wind Dancer, Dust, Hellion, Mercury, Rockslide, Laura Kinney and Wither. Anyone else from the X-Men training squads would fall in this age group too.

Deadly Genesis was obviously not a thing in this universe, and the only one of those X-Men I care about is Darwin.

Selene is...around. Honestly I think it'd be hilarious if she just hung out in the Land of Darkness, eating grimm and really annoying Salem, after they figured out that Selene couldn't kill her. She still busts down Salem's door to drain some of her life force occasionally, but honestly it's the closest thing to friendship either of them has.

Mystique predates the Great War, and does Huntress work occasionally, but these days she mostly stays home with Irene (At least that's the official story). No one knows if she's human or faunus. Her relationship with her biological son Kurt (we're going with Claremont's original plan here, Mystique was the 'father' and Irene was the mother) and her adopted daughter Anna Marie is...strained.

Fuck it, replace Glynda with Emma Frost, it's not like Glynda is that important in the grand scheme of things. (y'all know I'm right)

Characters I'm not sure what to do with:

Forge (combine him with pietro pollendina/have them be colleagues?)

the Stepford Cuckoos

Cable

Bishop

Sage

Toad

Dazzler

Boom-Boom

Stryfe

honestly, it might streamline things to have all the time traveler characters come from the same dystopian future

Rictor

Akihiro

[ilikekidsshows]

You know, I actually saw this one art in which the artist made a Cat!Rose design (I cannot find it, otherwise I would link it), and they said they did it because they thought it would be funny to see sweet lil Rose having the Power of Destruction™

So now I'm curious, do you think a Cat!Rose could work? And on a more general sense, what other Miraculous do you see working for her, besides the Pig?

Holy moly it took me a long time to get to this, sorry about that. I've been suffering from some major writer's block but now that's cleared up.

We’ve seen Rose willing to shield others even with her own body in ‘Desperada’, so she’d definitely have that aspect of being the Black Cat to a Ladybug down. She’s a protector more than a fighter, so she’d definitely use the power of destruction in a measured manner. In addition, the show does imply that she can get hard if she needs to, so she’d still actually use Cataclysm instead of saving it indefinitely like an actually passive personality might. Adrien’s greatest character strength is his kindness and he is the perfect pick for the Black Cat Miraculous because of that. Rose’s kindness would work much the same way, she’d know to use Destruction with kindness.

Frankly, I see Rose as a very similar Black Cat holder to Adrien in some ways. I think she’d love being seen as powerful and competent, especially when she’s helping others out. She’s also a real romantic, so she’d love the whole masked hero thing, and she wouldn’t have to suffer the downsides of her only friend being someone in a mask, since she has more friends to begin with than Adrien. However, this also means that Plagg doesn’t really have much to teach her about not conforming, considering her preferred singing style is screamo. If we look at the entire Kitty Section aesthetic, this girl is already a punk. That means that she could be a bit more likely to actually be down with some of Plagg’s ideas, although I’m not sure how Rose would react to Plagg’s more cattish behavior. Rose is a former victim of Chloé, so would she be able to sympathize with Plagg’s initial front enough to realize that it’s a front? That’s certainly something a fanfic author could tackle. Regardless, I do really like the idea of Plagg getting a partner who’s as nice to him as Rose could be.

Another challenge would be Rose’s capability of giving Plagg clear boundaries like Adrien does. I’ve theorized previously on this blog that Plagg showing off more control of Cataclysm in the series is a direct result of Adrien’s influence, of Plagg learning from him as much as Adrien learns from him. A partnership between a human and their bond creature that’s based on similarity will often lead to complacency, but there’s also a possibility of Plagg’s more outwardly brash personality steamrolling Rose’s more outwardly contained one, especially early in the partnership. Growth comes from conflict, from facing different situations and ideas than you’re used to. However, since Rose does have reserves of inner strength, what role that would play in the status quo or breaking it would also need to be addressed. There’s a possibility that after the initial situation of Plagg calling the shots, Rose will grow to be more assertive, but there’s also a chance of that situation causing a lot of negative feelings underneath the surface.

Rose and Plagg would be a challenging pair to balance. They can’t be too in-synch, or there won’t be growth. Similarly, they also can’t be in too much conflict because that will turn the partnership negative. There would need to be something that leads to them understanding each other, but said understanding can’t just be a given.

However, if you can get the writing balance down, this team is worth the effort, they just have very nice vibes all around.

As for other Miraculouses for Rose, I did say she’s a protector, so obviously the Turtle is an option. However, she is also a very giving person, there’s a reason her canon matchup has the ability Gift. As such, I would say that the Butterfly would be a very good match for her, since that Miraculous, when used correctly, is all about giving to others and empowering them.

[marinerainbow]

I headcanon that Kitty is a big KateBush fan and I can see her being asked to entertain during get-togethers and she does this song and routine and for some reasonI think the weasels would love it 😂 just getting wrapped up in the drama of the story. She doesn't sing with Kate's voice nor is she a professional but she's got the expressions and moves down pat and her singing is just as unique!

https://youtu.be/6xckBwPdo1c?si=6lpuRj_N1PM5Qp9l

Oh I love this song! Never heard it before now but I love it now XD I can see why Kitty would be a fan of Kate Bush.

And I absolutely love the idea of Kitty singing Babooshka! It is a pretty dramatic yet also real story. And I can definitely see the weasels liking it too ^^ maybe at some point Kitty invites them to her house for a get together or holiday? Her husband is holding Maisey and smiling all loving while watching/listening to his talented wife, Maisey thinks her mama is moving funny and sounds so pretty, and the weasels are all surprised and impressed!

I can see Greasy and Stu being the most vocal. Greasy is complimenting Kitty in a... Kind of flirty way 😅 (Mr. Hawkins and Kitty both just roll their eyes), Stupid is applauding her performance. Wheezy is grinning and nodding his head to the music, Psycho is kicking his legs and bobbing his head in synch with the beat... And the swirls in his eyes seem to be affected by the music too... And Smartass just gives a simple, kurt-but-still-friendly-in-smartass, "Y'did well, Cat." Kitty can see through his tough-guy exterior now ^^

[scarlet--wiccan]

My top looks for the the 2023 Hellfire Gala-- so far!-- are Synch and Talon's matching outfits; the Five's collective presentation, but especially Hope and Elixir; Dylan Brock's Venom tux; and slutty Vision. I also think Felicia's dress is an understated serve.

I think the worst looks, as usual, are either very pedestrian evening wear-- Iceman; Mary Jane-- or the barely-elevated versions of characters' standard costumes, like Fantomex, Ghost Rider, Kitty, Firestar, and Bishop. Some of those are still very nice designs-- I love Moon Knight and Captain Marvel's looks-- but they're not that creative.

At this point, I also think there is a recognizable Hellfire Gala aesthetic, where you can tell artists are kind of riffing on other looks from the past couple years. It's most obvious with the male characters who are wearing a layered robe or skirt with bare chests. Women tend to have intriguing cutouts and extremely long capes or trains that stay perpetually airborn. We've seen those looks many times now.

Superhero design has always intersected with fashion in really interesting ways, so I think the fact that there is a coherent high-fashion canon emerging in comics is really, really cool. You know, when the clothes are actually good.

[amagicdoctor]

"sounds like a case of writers not talking to each other again."

It doesn't just sound like that

It is that

I felt this in the last X-Men issue with ninja Kitty (#27) : The main plot was about her team, Rasputin IV, Ms Marvel, Synch and Talon, going to the Fantastic Four to get their X-Gene nullifier, which was only ever used on Franklin, so they could go incognito against the sentinels (Rasputin IV decided to body the FF first without giving them time to talk at all...)

What's the problem here? Well, three years ago, Franklin Richards was revealed to have never been a mutant : He is just a mutate with reality warping abilities. That "X-Gene nullifier" working on him at all wasn't because it affected his X-Gene (he doesn't have that as a mutate) but because it affected him as a reality warper meaning that, not only is Reed both stupid and incompetent for not realising his own son wasn't a mutant this whole time, his nullifier is some blatant false advertisement that cannot possibly be of any use to mutants in the ongoing plot

What's worse is that, there is someone who survived Krakoa's fall and actually knows Franklin isn't a mutant and even that the nullifier didn't do what Reed thought it did

And that someone is KITTY PRYDE, the person who sent her team to the FF to get said nullifier in the first place to solve the situation for mutants

Miscommunication 101

Dudes.... idk WHAT is going on in the Marvel offices rn to think that this is ok.

And maybe people would pass by it if it only happened with one comic series... but this has been happening for a bit. This is just the level of storytelling we have to deal with now ig😅

[musicarenagh]

Rony Rex’s ‘Dopamine’: A Vibrant Exploration of Dance Music Hey, have you had a listen to this? Rony Rex is a Finnish producer who has recently released an EP. I would still like to describe “Dopamine” as a crazy track which will throw you to the different sides of electronic music. This fellow has features for days and the whole EP just screams sex appeal and youthfulness. Rony Rex is truly one of The freshest dance music tastemakers in Finland today. The album begins with the track “Ugly”, a song that does not falter around. Well-defined bassline, synths, and Nigerian American Benni Ola’s hoarse, sexy spoken-word opening create an unapologetically club-ready track. That catchy beat and the happy notes make them characteristic of the summer, which serves as the backdrop for this EP. Next, there is “Papi” with vocals by Teen Suicide, Kitty from The Pom-Poms. As usual, this is a playful jam, which features thick beats, powerful bass synching, and synthesizing that fits the theme of money scam perfectly to complement Kitty’s playful lyrics. She develops a very smart stories which come with a hint of jeopardy but the smile makes it more audacious. The song is musically upbeat, but lyrically, the viewer is taken on a very bipolar ride with this song entitled, “I Could Be. ”The chorus is full of the artist’s pleas for her man to stay with her because she’s unsure about herself – a theme of the song would appeal to anyone struggling with their worth in a relationship. Yet, Ravenna takes over at the end of the movie and says to the mirror, “I know that I am good enough. ” It ends with “Shapes” which has a somewhat ambient sound to it. The dark and bassy verse breaks into the iridescent and vibrant chorus, accompanied by compelling vocals of Australian artist LÂLKA. It is a very peaceful kind of song which can make them dance under the sparkling Disco light. “Dopamine” is an absolute audio delight that Rony Rex has created, and after listening to the track people are sure to want more and more. Any fan of electronic music should definitely check this EP out as it proves Rony’s versatility and strong skill of mixing elements while keeping the crowd going. Listen to Dopamine https://open.spotify.com/album/3UCOHXCkSGhmCxcrZUA0vD Follow Rony Rex on Facebook Twitter Spotify Soundcloud Bandcamp Youtube Instagram Songkick Tiktok

[thisisonlyforschool]

human-animal interaction

I wish I knew what animals were thinking. I always feel like I do, but at the end of the day I realize my cat is probably just purring because she's full and has a comfy place to sit, not because I'm strategically synching our breathing because it makes me feel good too.

Regardless, I love house animals a lot and can sit and stare at my cat for hours without getting bored, something about kitties are so calming. #cat

[newx-menfan]

It’s still weird so MANY people love the Krakoa era…

While I agree fully X-books haven’t been stellar since 2011… (“Age of X-Man”/Rosenberg/Bendis was PARTICULARLY AWFUL!), I just don’t see how the quality has really improved THAT MUCH?

Hickmans stuff was genuinely GOOD and creative…. So was Marauders when Duggan wrote it…

But most of the titles have been pretty disappointing and more or less the same quality of the past- there was so much potential there and so many things that COULD have been done…that just wasn’t. 😐

The same problems that plagued the line then are still plaguing the line NOW- using only the A-list X-Men over and over again, rehashing more or less the same old tired nostalgic drama, instead of developing new characters and ideas…

It’s more or less the same lack of consistency in canon and lower quality writing, all while the cost of floppies go up…

“Excalibur” was disappointing…ditto for “Fallen Angels”…

Honestly watching Beast devolve into a total psychopath with cringe-worthy “EVVVVVVIL” plans has just been sad when you remember what his character USED to be. Same with Moira.

The one plus side of Krakoa- no more Scott/Jean/Wolverine love triangle overused DRAMA- is possibly being done away with for upcoming Brood drama…

We’re still getting dumb creations like “Hulkverines”…

What was the POINT of bringing back X-men from the dead, if they’re not EVEN going to use them??

“Rogue and Gambit”- one of the only pluses to come out of the dismal Kitty/Colossus drama- is currently being made toxic and horrible…

Going at Scarlet Witch AGAIN for the whole M-Day thing seemed utterly pointless…

Laura’s characterization is completely gone; this time without even Taylor to make her SOMEWHAT palatable….

IDK- I just don’t know if I am gonna stick with the X-books anymore. The one character that was kind of holding me in- Laura- I just don’t even really like anymore. She’s so far removed from KYOST version, that just…don’t even really find her interesting anymore.

Other than Storm not being “Asleep” and Synch coming back…I just can’t think of a lot of things Krakoa GAVE readers. I just keep thinking- what was the point of all of this?