#like if I lose a brush I just make or edit a new one to look similar like it??

[vongulli]

Sorry if this was asked before but is it fine if you could share what brushes you use on procreate!?

OH HIYA I use procreate but not as often as I use clip studio paint!! I use a ton of brushes so I kinda forget UHH but here’s ones I’ve been using lately! (If there’s a specific drawing you’re wondering about I could try to remember which ones I used! I get bored easy with the same pens so I’m ALLLWAYS trying out free stuff on the clip studio assets page!)

OH but there’s this one Twitter I follow that posts a lot of brushes from the assets page too, I’ve found a lot of stuff through there also! Hopefully that helps!!

[venusbyline]

Mouth ࿐ྂ Kinktober. 05, oct.

♡ Whore's Mouth part 2

— pairing: Spencer Reid x girlfriend!reader

— type: smut, Kinktober (Criminal Minds Edition)

— kink: face-sitting

— summary: Spencer likes to use his mouth to make you jealous, but also to make you cum later.

— word count: 692

— tags/warnings: kinktober 5th day, female!reader, boyfriend!Reid, face-sitting, oral (female receiving), brat!Reid, brat tamer!reader, body worship, light degradation, finger sucking, hair-pulling, curse words, soft punishment, JJ mentioned, jealousy, sub!Reid, dom!reader, long hair!Reid/Jesus!Reid. no use of y/n. english is not my first language.

— tagging list: @thatredlipped-classic @magnoliatrees-world @ehedrick012110 @hotchsmutrecs @slutcakes00 @emma-e-a @helo1281917

— crossposting: AO3

Spencer enjoyed making you jealous. He enjoyed seeing your fake stoic gaze at him when he played flirty games with JJ or some random girl. You didn't even know where so much confidence came from, since he was just a fucking shy and nerdy boy on a daily basis. He could barely hold a conversation with you at the beginning of your relationship without blushing and stuttering like a pathetic teenager.

However, over the months, when it came to just making you jealous, Spencer managed to act like a greedy womanizer and flirt with any pair of boobs he saw. Just for the fun of annoying you.

It was obvious that he would never cheat on you. You trusted him. It wasn't news to anyone how passionate and even obsessed Spencer was with you, he would rather quit his job at the BAU than live his life without you by his side. No one would compare to you.

But Spencer liked to see you snorting with jealousy when he pretended to be interested by the nonsense that random women said to him. He liked to tease you enough to make you consider losing your first offender. And most of all, Spencer liked being a brat so you could punish him.

"What's the matter, Spencie? Can't you keep testing me? Is your annoying little mouth too busy right now?" You scoffed, pulling his brown hair and hearing him whining around your wet pussy, the muffled sound giving you a hot thrill.

You moaned at the feeling of his lips around your clit, each rub bringing a free taste of Heaven.

Spencer tried to grope your ass and you considered denying him any touch, knowing he didn't deserve anything more than you were already giving him. But you gave up total domination when his large hands began to grip your buttocks, pushing you so that you were even closer to his face, his nose brushing against your sore bud.

A low growl escaped your lips as you looked down, noticing Spencer's puppy eyes, shining almost innocently. He always did that. Acting like a brat outside the bedroom and like an innocent pretty boy when he was under your command. Spencer loved pleasing you, just as he loved being punished by you. And there was nothing better than being punished by eating you out, your thighs pressing his head and practically preventing him from breathing for a few seconds.

You rubbed yourself against every part of his pretty face, your pussy burning from the aggressive friction. Spencer never cares about being used by you. He moaned beneath your clit, moving his own hips up and down, picturing himself fucking your tight walls.

"God, your whole face is dripping..." You moaned, gripping the back of his head tighter, pulling at the strands of hair so you were in control of everything again, rubbing your wet folds against his nose, the tip causing you to tremble and bringing your orgasm closer. "You're such a stupid little slut, Spencie. You really can't go a day without licking my pussy, can you?"

Before Spencer could give any muffled answer, you pushed him away, seeing his red and swollen lips from pleasuring you so much.

He licked up the dripping arousal, before smiling slightly. "I love your pussy, darling."

His obvious confession made you roll your eyes with mockery, but Spencer could feel you dripping onto the skin of his chest. "Of course you do..." You kept one hand in his long hair, while the other goes to his face, your thumb playing with his bottom lip as he used his tongue to suck it too.

"You're a fucking brat, you know that?" Your complaint made him arch his hips again, teeth nibbling on your finger, saliva dripping when you remove it from his mouth, before grabbing his head tighter than before and forcing him to keep eating you out. “That’s it, Spencer, just like that, baby…” You purred, eyes rolling back and legs shaking, pressing him under you as he sucks on your clit again. "It's so much better when that pretty mouth of yours is giving me pleasure."

Criminal Minds Edition - Masterlist

HOTD Edition - Masterlist

Venusbyline's Kinktober 2024 - Masterlist

[jaebeomsbitch]

The Touch of a Prince (E.M.)

Summary: You really really like your boyfriend's hands.

Warnings: MINORS DNI, smut, pure smut, explicit, lots of petnames, p in v, banana cream pies. Not edited like always

GIF credit: @foggystreetlights

A/N: just discovered the person who cosplays eddie and makes a whole bunch of eddie gifsets....

It was Eddie’s day off from the tattoo shop. He’d spent the day cleaning the house and when he was finally done he decided to work out an idea for a song. You’d come home about three hours into him practicing, a pencil in his mouth, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration but the one thing you could not get your eyes off of was his hands. The way the flexed with every movement, the way his veins popped when he’d move his hand up. 

“You almost done?” You murmur, eyes scaling your boyfriend. 

“Hmm?” He hums distracted but his eyes turn towards yours catching the tail end of your ogling. His lip immediately curving upward in a smirk. 

“Why? Is my princess in need of her valiant knight’s services?” He says dramatically. 

“Mhm,” you hum quietly nodding your head slowly as you scoot back on the couch. 

“Well if duty calls” he says, placing his guitar back on its stand. His heavy footsteps frantic as he all but practically runs towards you. He jumps on the couch with a thud, the springs creaking in protest. 

“You’re gonna fucking break it” you laugh. The two of you bought this shitty couch after moving in together. Before Eddie had become popular in the local tattoo scene. You could afford a better one but why waste something that is practically new? 

“I was told an urgent matter needed my services” he says pressing kisses to your neck. You can’t help but laugh as you’re pinned under his body. 

“Okay well not that!” You say pushing his face away. 

“Mhm, okay then what does my precious princess in need of?” He says still using that stupid accent. 

Your nose brushes his softly, eyes lashes fluttering against each other. “Do you trust me?” You whisper. A stupid smile adorns his face. 

“Course I trust you. Trust that you won’t bite my dick off  when it’s in your mouth. Did you know the force in a human jaw could do that? Like just cleanly” he rambles, getting distracted like he always does. He makes a chomping motion. 

“Take it right off” he says, getting off of you dragging you with him until you’re sitting with your legs across his lap.

“God you’re so…” you say, making a face at him with face annoyance but there’s a little smile on your face. 

“Hot?” He says with a smirk. 

“No-“ you try to say but he interrupts. 

“Charming? Handsome? God, keep going” he continues.

“Annoying” you say, interrupting him before he keeps going.

“Well luckily most hot people are annoying” he says nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders. 

“You’re insufferable too,” you scrunch your nose at him with a disgusted face. He decides to attack, his fingers pressing at your sides. 

“No! No-“ you try to seat his hands away but you’re laughing uncontrollably as he tickles you. 

“You don’t call me annoying or insufferable when I’ve got my cock in you” he laughs. 

“Please- stop!” You heave for breath seeking reprieve. He lets go of you with a chuckle, going back to his position on the couch as you pant for breath, your stomach aching from forced laughter.

“God, I was trying to ask you a question!” You whine as you sit up. Your hair all fucked up from thrashing around, face flushed. You lean your shoulder on the couch cushion as you look at Eddie.

“My name is actually Eddie,” he says with a smug smile. 

“That’s it! I’ve had it” you grumble a twinge of annoyance creeping into you as you cover his mouth and straddle his lap. 

“Oohh kinky,” he muffles into your palm. 

“Eddie seriously, I’m gonna lose my shit” you warn. He immediately holds his hands up in surrender. You let go of his mouth with a pointed glare, his hands finding their way to your ass. 

“Yes, Princess?” He says with a smile on his lips. 

“No, now I don’t want to. You’re being annoying” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Okay fine- fine I’m sorry” he says cupping your face and peppering your cheeks with kisses until you relax against him.

“What did you need?” He says softly, pushing your hair back out of your face. 

“I wanted to do something but you’re gonna find it weird” you mumble. 

“Weird? Like the time I let you hold my dick when I peed?” He says, one of his eyebrows quirked, clear amusement in his tone.

“Eddie!” You whine. 

“Okay, okay” he laughs. 

“Let me see your hand” you demand.

“You gonna read my palm or something?” he asks putting his right hand in front of you. 

“Something like that” you say, you fold his fingers in and unfold them trying to build the courage to do it. To do what you’d been thinking about doing amongst the other dirty thoughts in your mind. 

“You just wanted to play with my hands?” He laughs softly. You roll your eyes finally just sticking his pointer finger into your mouth. You lick at it, swirling your tongue around it. 

“What are you doing?” He asks, amusement lost from his voice. Instead he sounds out of breath, his free hand squeezes your ass, his eyes trained on your lips wrapped around his digit. 

Groaning, Eddie leans back on the couch, closing his eyes as you continue to suck on his fingers. You can feel the press of his half hard cock as you sit on his lap as he massages your ass with one hand. 

"God, you're driving me crazy," he mutters.

You pull his fingers out of your mouth with a string of saliva dripping down your chin.

“I’m not doing anything” you murmur laying your head on his shoulder. You spread out his fingers licking in between the spaces then take his pointer finger into your mouth sucking on it.

Panting, Eddie watches with difficulty as you lick and suck on his fingers, his cock throbbing in his jeans.

"Do you have any idea how sexy that is?" he asks hoarsely.

You look up at Eddie with your big doe eyes. Cocking your head to the side innocently as you take in his middle finger and start sucking on it. This was your payback for Eddie’s annoying behavior. 

Eddie shakes his head, rolling his hips up to gain friction. 

“Fuck, need to be inside you princess” he pants. You hum around his fingers, sucking on them harder at the proposition. His one hand fumbled with the button on his jeans and yet he perfectly undoes it and unzips the zipper. You look at him with a questioning gaze.

“What? I have a lot of practice” he murmurs, cheeks glowing red. He’s cute when he’s embarrassed. Nonetheless he pulls his jeans and underwear down, his cock bobbing out of the fabric. It lightly slaps against his stomach, smearing precum over his maiden tee. 

He slips his fingers out of your mouth, you can’t help but whine at the loss but he doesn’t give you a second to think. He’s yanking down his boxers that you’re wearing, thumb finding your clit as you kick them off. 

“S-shit” you moan pressing your forehead into his shoulder. 

“You’re so fucking far” he grunts, pulling you closer by the waist. You can’t help but laugh breathlessly but then his thumb is rubbing tight circles on your bundle of nerves, your thighs trembling. 

“F-fuck okay okay okay” you pant not even knowing why you’re saying okay but you’re hovering over his cock. Eddie holds it at the base aligned with you perfectly to sink into him like an animal in quicksand. 

“Not until I have your fingers” you whisper, swallowing hard. You feel like you’re slowly losing any semblance of humanity, like poison drips into your blood stream. Converting you into a primal cock hungry whore. 

“Always have to draw things out don’t you?” He pants while shaking his head. His thumb leaving your clit, middle finger slipping into your sopping pussy. 

“Mmm f—f” you stutter, the press of  his warm metal rings at your labias having you forgetting your name. You look down, the veins on his inner wrist flexing, the bracelet on his wrist slightly bouncing with the movement, his eyes staring at the way you take his finger then sliding in his ring finger. Stretching you out as you start rocking your hips against his palm. You grip his shoulders harder. 

“G-guh fuck Eddie” you moan, your head dropping in defeat as he curls his fingers. 

“That’s it, ride my fucking hand” he all but growls. If he’s gonna be tortured he might as well enjoy it. 

“Look so fucking pretty like this, Sweetheart. Got you all dumb from just my hand. I see the way you look at ‘em. Think you’re smart, huh? Looking away from me when I look over” he chuckles, his free hand gripping your hip moving you to ride his hand harder with each hard press of his fingers. 

“C-can’t help it” you moan. Heat pools at your core, the familiar burn feels like lava, your face pressed desperately into his shoulder. If it wasn’t for Eddie’s hand on your hips you don’t know if you could move. 

“Aww the poor little princess can’t help it? Can’t help imagining me fucking your pussy just like this? Getting your juices all over my fucking rings?” He grunts with the effort as he feels your muscles start to twitch. 

“That’s it, cum on my fucking fingers. Show me how much you fucking love ‘em” he pants in your ear. 

“S-shit. Oh fuck” you cry out, your nails digging into his skin as you feel the burn deep in your core. Your clit rubbing over his palm, his fingers ramming into your g-spot over and over again, the hard press of his metal rings. It isn’t long maybe a few seconds that you cum all over his hands. 

It drips down his thick fingers, smearing all over his rings, creating a small puddle in his palm. Fuck… you’d never cum this much and all because of his hands. He slides his fingers out of you carefully as you heave for air. 

The heat ghosting over his neck as you relax in his hold. 

He tuts, ”s’only your first own, Princess. Still gotta ride my cock like you’re riding a first prize stallion.”

“S-shit y-yeah just.. just give me a sec would ‘ya?” You gasp. He runs your back softly until you sit up on his thighs pulling back to look at his face. 

“There she is” he grins, using his clean hand to brush stray pieces of hair out of your face. You press a soft kiss to his lips. 

“Thanks for that” you murmur shyly under the intense gaze of your boyfriend. He looked like a man starved for days looking at his first meal. 

“That? Oh sweetheart… you’re not gonna be able to walk tomorrow when I’m done with you,” he says with a cocky grin. 

“Now, I believe I was told that my Princess likes my hands. Hmm? S’that true sweetheart?” He asks almost condescendingly. You nod meekly not knowing where this is heading. 

He grips your hips pulling you up. Your thighs tremble lightly as you’re back in the same position as before. 

“Think you can take it baby? Have a surprise for you, if you’re a good girl” he says, rubbing his thumb softly over your hipbone. 

“Yeah- Yes I can,” you nod. You shift closer, your knees pressing into the sides of his hips as you slowly sink down into him. 

“Oh- fuck” you whine, your pussy still sensitive from your orgasm. Your walls pulse around him, already slick with your cum, coating his cock in it. He tilts your head up to look at him. 

“Open that pretty mouth of yours Princess,” he murmur, his stomach straining not to fuck you hard like he wants. He knows you need him to be gentle right now. You oblige opening up your plump lips with uncertainty. 

He slides his cum covered fingers into your mouth forcing you to taste yourself. His other hand finding your hip slowly pulling you towards him in a gentle roll of your hips. You moan around his fingers for a second time. 

Your tongue laps up your cum gathering it on the tip as you start moving your hips on your own. Instead of bouncing you choose to swivel your hips, keeping a figure eight. 

This causes Eddie’s cock to stay buried deep inside of you, the meeting point of the two rings forcing his cock to press into your g-spot. You curl your toes, gasping around his wrinkled fingers. Fuck, you’re so sensitive. Eddie could sneeze and you’d cum again. Nonetheless you flex your stomach ignoring the way your pussy flutters around him. 

Like a deep primal urge in you knows, knows that you need your fill. 

“Fuck, that’s it” he pants, his desperation growing. He slides his fingers out of your mouth, the skull ring staying behind, you swirl it around your tongue cleaning it and bring it forward to show him just as he grabs your hips. 

“Jesus fucking Christ you’re gonna fucking kill me” he gasps out, his big hands forcing you to bounce on his cock. 

It’s like you lose all inhibitions as you feel the slam of his cock curving into you. 

“Oh- God. Fuck- fuck” you moan loudly. It gets harder and harder to stave off your orgasm as he presses his back into the couch pistoning upwards. 

“S-shit you’re gonna fucking break me” you gasp. Your stomach flexes painfully, your clit rubbing into the thatch of curly hair above his cock ever time he slams you down into him. You pull at the couch cushions behind his head desperately. 

“I- I can’t Eds” you cry, every fibre of your body is telling you to let go. Eddie feels the familiar tug at his balls, a shiver running up his spine. 

“Look at me,” he grunts. 

You try and strengthen your neck but all you can manage is to press your forehead into his. 

“You’re mine, always fucking remember that” he says fiercely. 

“I thought I was the princess” you laugh breathlessly.

“And I’m your fucking prince” he moan. 

You whine “don’t wanna cum yet.” You press up on your knees slamming down harder onto his cock. The only thing preventing you from falling is Eddie’s hands on your hips and your grip on his shoulders

“Love your cock to much wanna stay like this forever” you moan.

Laughing, Eddie pulls you closer, his lips finding yours. His tongue slipping into your mouth, tasting your cum on your tongue. 

"I love you," he whispers against your lips. "I'll never get tired of being inside you.”

“Fuck- come on princess, cum for me” he encourages. 

“No no no no no” you whine but the heat keeps pooling and shocks travel up your spine as you get closer and closer.

Hearing your desperate pleas, Eddie knows you're on the edge. He wraps one arm around your waist, pulling you even closer as he thrusts into you with abandon.

"That's it," he praises. "Just let it happen."

“No Eddie,“ you whine but your pussy still clenching around him, your stomach tightening with effort as you try to stave off your pleasure.

“Fuuuck” you gasp your neck flexing as you grit your teeth.

“That’s it, that’s fucking it” he grunts rubbing right circles on your clit. Your velvet walls clench harder around him, his cock making you completely dumb. 

You let go involuntarily, everything all too much. You cum hard trembling above him, collapsing into his chest. 

“Fuck-beautiful. So. Fucking. Beautiful,” he grunts. 

“Cum inside me,” you pant out. 

“What?” His eyebrows practically fly to his hairline. 

“Cum inside me” you say more urgently, shocks running up your spine. 

“Y- fuck you can’t say shit like that to me” his eyes roll back and his lips part. He cums inside you with a loud groan. 

You sigh as you get comfortable on his lap. His cum and cock still buried deep inside you. You press a soft kiss to the side of his head

“My pretty boy” you whisper. 

[tteotlma]

Whiskey and Wishful Thinking

-- unrequited love and misplaced desires

Logan/Wolverine x Reader 6.2kw(😵‍💫)

a/n: this idea has been in my head for a while now and i didn’t really edit —

TW: 18+ MDNI AFAB!Reader, alcohol abuse/intoxication, sexual content (explicit), Emotional manipulation, unrequited love, mild violence (Logan crashing into things), infidelity (emotional), sexual encounter under the influence, emotional distress/angst, mild language, p in v

—

The quiet whirring of the air conditioner filled the cavernous space of the library, its cool breeze a stark contrast to the sweltering August heat outside. You circled the poster board laid out on the worn wooden table in front of you, your fingertips ghosting over the glossy photos and carefully cut-out newspaper clippings. Your chin rested on your hand as you examined the display closely, brow furrowed in concentration.

The new semester at Charles Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters was starting in a week, and you were determined to be prepared. This wasn't just about having a visually engaging classroom; it was about proving yourself. Your second year as a teacher here was right around the corner, and you still had people to impress—or maybe overshadow. The pressure to live up to the legacy of the school's illustrious faculty weighed heavily on your shoulders.

You were in the middle of rearranging a faded photo of Richard Nixon next to a more vibrant one of Mystique—a stark visual representation of the complex history you were trying to convey—when something caught your eye. A small tear in the corner of the Mystique photo made you frown. It was barely noticeable, but you knew it was there. Much like the small imperfections in your own mutation that you tried so hard to hide.

As you reached for the tape to add more photos, a thunderous crash erupted from the direction of the front door, reverberating off the mahogany bookshelves and causing the chandeliers to tinkle ominously. You startled, your elbow catching the edge of the poster board and sending a cascade of photos fluttering to the floor like autumn leaves.

"Dammit," you muttered under your breath, dropping to your knees to gather the scattered images. Each one represented hours of research and careful curation. There was Erik Lehnsherr in his prime, Charles Xavier before the wheelchair, headlines about the Mutant Registration Act—pieces of a puzzle you were trying to fit together for your students.

As you collected the last of the photos, another crash followed, accompanied by a string of muffled colorful curses that could only belong to one person: Logan.

You rose to your feet, brushing dust from your knees and straightening your top. A part of you wanted to ignore the disturbance and return to your work. After all, you weren't one of the X-Men, just a history teacher trying to make a difference in your own small way. But another part, the part that had brought you to this school in the first place, urged you to investigate.

With a last, longing look at your unfinished project, you began to walk down the corridor, your footsteps echoing in the empty hallway. The warm wood paneling and lush carpets couldn't quite muffle Logan's gruff voice, slurred and aggravated.

"Who the hell locked the damn door?" he growled loud enough to be heard through the mahogany, followed by another thud that sounded suspiciously like a body hitting solid wood.

You rounded the corner just in time to hear Logan slam against the door again. Sighing, you approached, your hand hovering over the ornate brass doorknob.

"Logan?" you called out, trying to keep your voice steady. "The door's always locked after midnight. You know that."

There was a moment of silence, then a muffled grunt. "Oh. Right." You heard him fumbling on the other side, likely searching for keys he didn't have. "Must've... must've forgot."

You leaned closer to the door, lowering your voice. "Did you lose your keys again?"

"Didn't lose 'em," Logan grumbled, his words slurring together. "Just... misplaced 'em. Temporarily."

Rolling your eyes, you turned the lock. "I'm letting you in. But please, try to keep it down. Some of us are trying to work."

As you swung the heavy door open, the full impact of Logan's state hit you like a wave. He was leaning heavily against the doorframe, more disheveled than you'd ever seen him.

His usually wild hair was a mess, matted in places as if he'd been running his hands through it repeatedly. His leather jacket was askew, one sleeve pushed up to the elbow while the other hung loosely at his wrist. The strong scent of whiskey wafted from him, mixed with something earthier – had he been in the woods?

His eyes, usually sharp and alert, were unfocused as they landed on you. For a moment, they seemed to look through you rather than at you.

"Work?" he scoffed, stumbling slightly as he entered. "It's summer, kid. Live a little."

The irony of his statement, given his current condition, wasn't lost on you. But as he brushed past, the scent of alcohol growing stronger, you couldn't help but wonder what had driven him to drink so heavily tonight. Logan had his demons, sure, but this seemed excessive even for him.

"Logan," you said softly, reaching out to steady him as he swayed. "What happened? Are you okay?"

He paused, turning to look at you. For a brief moment, his tough exterior seemed to crack, revealing a glimpse of raw pain underneath. But as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by his usual gruff demeanor.

"I'm fine," Logan grunted, his voice rough as gravel. He shrugged off your hand with a forceful jerk that nearly threw him off balance. "Just need to sleep it off."

As he stumbled towards the stairs, you stood frozen in the foyer, a war of emotions raging within you. Frustration at the interruption of your work battled with genuine concern for your colleague. The sound of his heavy footsteps echoed through the hallway, each thud against the hardwood punctuated by a slight scuff - clear signs of his unsteady gait.

BAM

The sound reverberated through your chest, jolting you into action. "Oh my- Logan!" The twisting knot in your stomach unraveled, replaced by a surge of adrenaline as you found yourself on your knees beside the fallen giant. The polished wood floor was cool against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from Logan's body.

"Are you okay?!" Your voice came out higher than intended, tinged with worry. You gently turned his body, your hands careful but insistent. Logan's face came into view, his rugged features slack, eyes roving aimlessly. They passed over your face without a flicker of recognition, unfocused and glassy.

"Clearly not," you muttered, answering your own question. The words tasted bitter on your tongue, worry and frustration mingling in equal measure. You patted his stubbled cheek, the coarse hair rough against your fingers. The familiar texture grounded you, a tactile reminder of the man beneath this drunken exterior.

"Come on, you big lug." Your fingers curled around his jacket collar, the worn leather an old friend under your grip. You could smell the years of use on it – a mixture of tobacco, whiskey, and that indescribable scent that was purely Logan. You tugged, your muscles straining against his dead weight. It was like trying to move a mountain, and you felt a bead of sweat trickle down your back with the effort. "I can't get you up those stairs, but we can try to find something else."

Logan stirred under your hands, a low groan rumbling from deep in his chest. You could feel the vibration of it through your palms, like the purr of some great, dangerous cat. Keeping a steadying hand on his arm, you helped as he struggled to his feet. His muscles were taut under your touch, coiled with a strength that, even in his inebriated state, was intimidating.

The scent of whiskey hung heavy in the air around you both, an almost visible miasma. It mingled with the earthy smell of his leather jacket and something so distinctly Logan – a heady mix of cigar smoke and pine that usually brought a sense of comfort and safety. Now, it just emphasized the bitter truth that in trying to distance himself from his pain, Logan had simultaneously distanced himself from the man you once knew.

He was mumbling, disconnected words tumbling from his lips like scattered puzzle pieces. You caught fragments – "Jean" and "Summers" among them – each name landing like a small stone in the pit of your stomach. But you weren't really trying to piece it together, not now. Your mind was already racing ahead, calculating the logistics of moving him, wondering if you could manage to get him to the nearby study with its comfortable couch. And, if you were being honest with yourself, a small part of you was wondering how soon you could get him out of your sight and return to the normalcy of your work.

You watched, as if in slow motion, as Logan threw a heavy arm around you. The sudden shift in weight knocked you off balance, causing your body to shove even closer to Logan's as you struggled to support his swaying form.

You closed your eyes, trying to distract itself with thoughts of your discarded project in the library. You tried to reimagine your pre-arranged photos and timelines, hearing them calling to you like a siren song of productivity and purpose. But it was hard to focus on that, not with the heat radiating off of Logan's body making your skin feel like it was sizzling, every point of contact between you a livewire of sensation.

You could feel every hard plane of his body pressed against you, the heat of him searing through your clothes. The closeness was both thrilling and terrifying, and you quickly shook your head, pushing the confusing thoughts away. Right now, Logan needed a friend, whether he (or you) realized it or not.

"Alright, big guy," you said, your voice sounding strained even to your own ears as you adjusted your grip on his arm. Your fingers dug into the solid muscle there, seeking purchase. "Let's get you somewhere you can lay down before you fall again and cause some damage." You began to guide him, every step a careful negotiation between his unsteady feet and your determined support. It was like trying to direct a landslide – Logan's bulk and uncoordinated movements making each step a precarious balancing act.

"I-I'm fine," he slurred, his words thick and syrupy. His head bobbed with each trudging step, reminding you of those drinking bird toys. "Jus' needed a break." The words were punctuated by a hiccup that shook his whole frame, and by extension, yours.

"A break from what?" You grunted, the words coming out breathless as you strained to keep him walking in something resembling a straight line. The carpet runner in the hallway bunched under your feet with each step, creating small obstacles you had to navigate around. "It's the last week of summer."

The reminder seemed to hit Logan like a physical blow. He let out a loud groan, the sound rumbling through his chest and into yours where you were pressed against him. Suddenly, his body went limp, all semblance of cooperation vanishing in an instant. He stumbled again, but this time, anchored to you as he was, he dragged you with him.

"No, no Logan," you gasped, your muscles screaming as you struggled to keep both of you upright. Your feet scrambled for purchase on the polished wood floor, sliding dangerously. For a heart-stopping moment, you thought you were both going down, but somehow – through sheer determination or dumb luck – you managed to keep moving.

With a final, herculean effort, you maneuvered Logan's bulk towards the library. The giant sofa loomed before you like an oasis in a desert, promising relief from your burden. And of course, because the universe seemed to have a twisted sense of humor tonight, it was right next to your craft table. The carefully arranged materials – your planned escape from this chaos – now stood as silent witnesses to your struggle.

As you finally deposited Logan onto the couch, the leather creaking under his weight, you couldn't help but wonder how this night had spiraled so far from your quiet plans. The Logan-shaped imprint of heat on your body slowly began to fade, leaving you feeling oddly bereft despite your earlier desire to be free of him. You stood there, catching your breath, watching the rise and fall of Logan's chest as he settled into the couch, already half-asleep.

As you finally deposited Logan onto the couch, the aged leather creaked in protest under his substantial weight. You couldn't help but marvel at how drastically this night had veered from your meticulously laid plans. The Logan-shaped imprint of heat on your body slowly began to fade, leaving behind a peculiar sense of absence. It was a feeling that caught you off guard, considering your earlier desperation to be free of his burdensome presence.

For a moment, you stood there, your chest heaving as you caught your breath. Your eyes traced the rise and fall of Logan's broad chest as he settled into the couch, his features already softening with the onset of sleep. The furrows in his brow, usually so pronounced, began to smooth out, giving him an almost peaceful appearance that seemed at odds with the tumultuous events of the night.

Shaking your head, you turned back to your project, eager to lose yourself in the familiar comfort of organization and creativity. Each piece fell into place with a satisfying click, the world narrowing down to the careful arrangement of photos and timelines. Time seemed to slip away as you worked, the rhythmic sound of Logan's breathing fading into white noise.

Despite the rhythmic process you had created, your mind managed to stray to the man beside you. Logan's presence, even in his unconscious state, was impossible to ignore. Your eyes drifted from your work to his sleeping form, tracing the rugged lines of his face that you'd memorized long ago.

A familiar ache bloomed in your chest, a bittersweet mixture of longing and resignation. How many days and nights had you spent like this, stealing glances at Logan when he wasn't aware, allowing yourself to imagine a reality where his eyes would light up at the sight of you? But that was a fantasy, and you knew it.

Your fingers absently toyed with a photo of Jean Grey that had fallen from your timeline. Even in this candid shot, her beauty was undeniable. Logan's voice, slurred with alcohol, echoed in your mind: "Jean." Of course, it always came back to Jean.

You couldn't blame him, not really. Jean was everything - brilliant, powerful, compassionate. And you? You were just... you. The history teacher who helped patch him up after missions, who listened to his rare moments of vulnerability, who silently loved him from afar.

A soft murmur from the couch drew your attention. Logan's face had contorted, his lips moving soundlessly. Was he dreaming of her even now? The thought sent a pang through your heart.

"She's with Scott, Logan." You shook your head.

The words tasted bitter on your tongue. Because that was the cruel irony, wasn't it? Jean was utterly devoted to Scott Summers. Her love for him was as clear as day to everyone - everyone except Logan. He clung to hope like a drowning man to driftwood, blind to the fact that Jean's heart belonged to another. Just as he was blind to your feelings for him.

You turned back to your work, trying to lose yourself once more in the familiar task. But your eyes kept drifting to the leather jacket draped over a nearby chair - Logan's jacket. How many times had you imagined him placing it around your shoulders on a cold night? How many times had you dreamed of being the one he looked at with that intensity, that raw need?

But those were just dreams. Reality was this: Logan, passed out on the couch beside you, murmuring another woman's name in his sleep. A woman who would never return his feelings. And you, silently loving a man who would never see you as anything more than a friend.

The spell was abruptly broken by a loud, guttural grunt from the couch. Startled, you whirled around, your heart leaping into your throat. Logan's peaceful demeanor had vanished, replaced by a mask of distress. His forehead was creased, beads of sweat forming at his hairline. His hands twitched at his sides, fingers curling as if grasping for something just out of reach.

The realization hit you like a splash of cold water: he was having a nightmare.

Pushing your chair into the table with a soft scrape, you rose to your feet. Your movements were slow, deliberate, as you approached Logan. Years of living in a school full of mutants with varying degrees of control had taught you the value of caution, especially when dealing with someone as potentially dangerous as Logan in a vulnerable state.

You positioned yourself at the head of the couch, carefully staying out of range of his arms - and more importantly, his claws. Your eyes flicked nervously to his hands, half-expecting to see the glint of adamantium at any moment. Swallowing hard, you steeled yourself and reached out, your hand hovering uncertain over his forehead.

For a heartbeat, you hesitated. The man before you was a far cry from the intimidating, gruff Logan you knew. In sleep, trapped in the throes of a nightmare, he looked almost... vulnerable. It was a side of him you'd never seen, never even imagined existed.

Taking a deep breath, you gently placed your fingertips on his temple. The skin there was hot to the touch, almost feverish. You could feel the rapid pulse of his temporal artery beneath your fingers, a testament to the intensity of whatever visions were plaguing him.

"Logan," you whispered, your voice barely audible even in the quiet of the library. "It's okay. You're safe." He let out a soft moan. Your fingers comb through his unruly hair, something you had never dared to do before. His usual gruffness is stripped away, and what remains is raw, untethered vulnerability—both his and yours.

His breath is uneven as he shifts under your touch, but your movements remain steady, soothing him. The weight of unspoken feelings that have built up over the years presses down on you. The sight of Logan up close so troubled and lost pulls at your heartstrings in a way you can’t ignore anymore.

"Logan," you whisper again, this time more firmly, urging him back to reality. His eyes flutter open, hazy and disoriented. For a moment, they lock onto yours. There's no Jean, no Scott, no X-Men—just the two of you in this quiet, dimly lit room, the air thick with unspoken tension.

His hand moves up to catch yours as it rests on his hair, his grip surprisingly gentle despite the strength behind it. "Why... why are you here?" he mumbles, voice still hoarse and thick with sleep, but there’s something else beneath the surface.

"I'm here because you needed me," you reply softly, the words feeling far too loaded but still true. The tension in his grip tightens, and for a split second, you wonder if you're imagining the way his eyes darken, the hint of desperation and something else swirling within them.

"Don't you have someone else to take care of? I'm not worth the trouble..." His words are a mixture of bitterness and regret, and it cuts deep. You shake your head slowly, heart pounding in your chest.

"You are worth it, Logan," you whisper, barely able to believe the words have left your mouth. Maybe it’s the weight of the years you’ve spent suppressing your feelings, or the heavy air filled with alcohol and desperation, but something shifts between you two in that moment.

Without thinking, Logan sits up, his grip on you tightening as he pulls you closer to sit beside him, bodies pressed together. The sudden movement leaves you breathless, your body leaning against his, faces only inches apart. His breath is warm and carries the sharp, smoky scent of whiskey, but beneath it lingers something else—something raw, unspoken, and heavy between you. The proximity feels electric, the tension between you simmering just beneath the surface.

For a split second, neither of you moves. You can feel the thrum of Logan’s pulse where his chest presses against yours, and his eyes, dark and stormy, search your face for something—maybe reassurance, maybe an answer to a question neither of you has dared to ask aloud. The weight of unrequited love hangs between you, an invisible thread that pulls you closer even as you hesitate. You've both been running from this, denying it, but now it feels inevitable.

Logan's hand lingers on your arm, his rough fingers brushing against your skin in a way that sends shivers down your spine. His jaw clenches, and you can see the battle raging inside him, the unspoken words on his lips threatening to spill out. "I—" he starts, his voice rough and hesitant, like he's about to confess something too heavy to bear, but you don’t let him finish. You can't, not when you're both teetering on this razor's edge.

You lean in and kiss him, your lips meeting his in a soft, tentative press. For a heartbeat, Logan freezes, his body going rigid with surprise, but then something in him snaps. His right hand snakes down your left side pulling you even closer, as his other hand cups the back of your neck, and he pulls you deeper into the kiss, his lips urgent, almost desperate. It's not gentle—it’s raw, filled with the intensity of everything he's never said. The kiss is a release of all the years spent pining for someone else, all the nights spent wishing for what he could never have.

You know this isn’t love, not the kind either of you have been hoping for. It’s about filling the hollow space left by the people who’ll never look at you the way you want them to. You’re both seeking something that’s just out of reach, using each other to drown out the ache of unrequited love that’s settled deep in your bones. Jean's name might as well be carved into the air between you, but tonight, that pain is dulled, replaced by the heat and urgency of the moment.

His grip on you tightens as the kiss deepens, a silent understanding passing between you. This isn’t about forever. It’s about right now—two people grasping for something real, even if it’s fleeting, even if it doesn’t fill the spaces you need it to. You know that come morning, things will be different, but for now, you both allow yourselves this escape.

Logan’s tongue licks tentatively at your lips, you give him the permission he’s silently seeking as your lips part. You feel lightheaded as his tongue slides into your mouth, and your groin feels hot as Logan lets out the filthiest groan into your mouth.

You let out a soft whine as you grab at his shirt, his muscles hot and firm under the fabric. As Logan continues to indulge in the taste of you, fingers trail down the front of his shirt all the way to and under the hem. Your fingers lightly drag across the thin sliver of skin and you feel Logan’s hip twitch, and he pulls away sighing lightly into your mouth.

He adorned the sexiest look on his smug face. Granted he still looked inebriated but this time instead of being drunk on whiskey.. he was drunk on you. Mother of all that is good and well, you know you should say something, be reasonable, smart, but dammit if there’s one thing you will stick by it’s that you will always help a friend in need…

You bring him close, hands clasping behind his neck and pulling him in as you swing your leg over his lap straddling him. His hands immediately meet the small of your back, and he leans in to kiss you again pulling you flush to his chest.

Now its your turn to take control in the kiss, Logan pliant as you lap at his mouth. He lets you think your in charge until he takes you by surprise and uses one hand to grab the hair at the back of your head. You lose your rhythm for a second and he takes the opportunity to push his tongue along yours, saliva pooling in your mouths and melting in the middle. He begins to suck on the slick pink muscle and you give in.

Whatever ounce of worry, hesitation, anxiety, any reservation whatsoever you could have had left your body and you gave in to desire. That bitch, that deliciously sinful demon had got her way as the muscles in your legs gave in and you relax onto Logans lap. He continues to slurp at your mouth, and you mewl. Never in your life had anyone done this to you before. Not only was it filthy, it was incredibly hot.

The heat in your groin burned your insides leaving you with an ache you needed to relieve. Your hips buck reflexively as you feel a wetness pool on the fabric of your underwear. You let a moan slip out of your mouth, and Logan let out a deep and throaty chuckle. His fingers go back beneath the waistline of your pants, fingers gripping the flesh of your hips and grinding you down against his pelvis.

You threw your head into the crook of Logan’s neck as he began to buck his hips into yours at a steady rhythm. His fingers digging harder into your skin, as he applied more pressure. You could feel the thin fabrics of your underwear and sleep shorts soak the more you rubbed against Logan. You began to gyrate your hips in tighter circles.

“Ah, fuck.” You breathed out as you pressed your forehead to the brute of a man beneath you. “Logan, Logan, come on, stop teasing.” You panted between breaths. Logan shifted a bit beneath you causing your neglected clit to get caught during your motions. Your head lolled to the side and then back as a whimper turned into a full cry of frustration. God, you wanted this pain, this ache you were feeling to go away and you’d do anything to make it stop.

Logan’s grip tightened on your hips, as he stilled your body for a second.

“What the fuck,” You hissed, trying to slide your wet heat on Logans definite show-er and grower but the man loved to tease. Logan continued to hold your hips and you began to grow frustrated. The feeling of his smirk against your neck causing tears to come to your eyes.

“Logan, please.” You whimpered, your voice shaking. You feel him freeze and you mentally shoot yourself in the foot— You didn’t want this to be a thing with emotions, it was bad enough that the first time you’re having sex with the man you’ve loved for five years is as a one night fling. You didn’t want to have to think about the emotional repercussions before having what you’re pretty sure is going to be the best orgasm of your life.

In a moment of panic, and wanting to shift the focus you lean forward, and your hands find the button of Logan’s pants. You unbuckle the belt, and he peppers kisses along your shoulders, your fingers fumble with the button, and he noses your jaw, you slide down the zipper and he pecks your neck. All of a sudden the intimacy becomes too much so you trail your hands at the band of his underwear and you begin to pull the fabric down. Coarse hair grazes your fingers, and before you can stop yourself your hand runs up his stomach, and down back to his groin— his breath shudders against the nape of your neck as he begins to nip at your skin.

Before you can fully expose the man he grabs your hand and puts it on his shoulder as if saying to let him do the work. You obey and lift your hips to give him space. Next thing you know your being guided back close to him, hovering over his groin.

While you hadn’t seen his dick fully yet, you knew the mutant was big. You could tell regardless of the scenario. The way he walks, the way he sits— legs spread so wide it’s like he’s constantly inviting you to kneel between them. Missing the opportunity this time didn’t make you think any different though, this man was massive. The heat within your body was already painful enough, but now the heat you feel outside your cunt was unbearable.

Your right hand slid between your bodies as you reached for Logan's thick dick. He let out a low growl as your fingers wrapped around his shaft. Logan's fingers reached for the fabric between your thighs, moving the soaked cloth to the side urging you to put his cock inside.

You guide the tip to your entrance and you can feel your cunt clench around nothing in anticipation. You feel heat rise to your cheeks in embarrassment, but the aggression in Logan’s breathing gives you relief that you’re not the only one desperate. But for who it was is a different story.

Logan got impatient and lifted his hips to push the tip past, and your mouth fell open as a silent moan possessed your body. God, you were right. He was so thick, the stretch was borderline unbearable but before you could fully adjust Logan began to thrust up even further. His dick going so deep, the tip hit the spongy part.

He let out a strangled grunt as he held your hips down, and you squirmed.

“You needa stop that.” He barked, as he rolled his head back against the couch rest, trying to control himself as he felt your hole clench around him.

“I’m sorry,” You sob, trying to adjust but the pain and pleasure were too overwhelming you could feel yourself losing focus.

“I just–” He shushes you by cradling you against his shoulder, arms enveloping you in a tight hug, and just when you think you’ve calmed down he devours you like you’re his last meal. He wraps his arms around you and lifts you from his lap before he brings you down and he thrusts up.

A sob escapes your lips as his hips fire off like a pistol, thrusting in and out, brutal but so worth it as your desires are finally being satiated. He’s holding onto you like if he let go you’d float away. A string of curses fill the air as he continues to pump into you.

“Fuck, fuck, Logan.” You mumble, words slowly leaving your mouth.

“Awe,” Logan tuts as his hips fall into a normal pace, his hand coming to caress the back of your hair. “Don’t tell me this pussy is lightweight, we’ve only just started and you’re already acting like this?” You don’t respond, and instead let out soft moans as he continues to fuck into your abused cunt. Logan uses the opportunity to pull you back by your hair (again) to examine your face. It’s flushed red, glowing with perspiration, your chest panting as you try to catch your breath.

“No baby that won’t do.” He caresses the hair out of your face and nuzzles his face against yours. His facial hair prickling your skin. He places a kiss on your forehead before he pounds into you faster, deeper than before. You can barely keep your eyes open and all the sounds that leave your lips are just pathetic little whimpers and sobs.

"M'close." He grunts and you can't help but agree. "You gonna come, sweetheart?" You can't find the words and nod, pliant like a ragdoll in his arms. He groans.

"C'mon. You can do better than that, can't ya? Tell me."

"Fuck yes," you pant, your voice barely audible between gasps. You writhe beneath him, desperate for something to anchor yourself to, but with his hands pinning your wrists, the only thing you manage to grab is the rough hair on his lower abdomen, the friction of it grounding you as much as the heat and slap of his body. "Please… don’t stop."

His grip tightens on your wrists, the pressure pushing you to the edge as he moves faster, his breath hot against your skin. Each thrust sends a jolt through your body, every nerve alight with anticipation and need.

"That's it," he growls, voice thick with control as he watches you fall apart beneath him. "Let go."

You can feel it building, the tension coiling in your core, and with one final snap of his hips, you shatter—your body arching, toes curling, a strangled cry escaping your lips. The world blurs, everything outside this moment fading as you hit your peak, wave after wave crashing over you.

But even through the haze, you feel him reaching his own release. His pace becomes erratic, his muscles tensing, and as he finally falls over the edge, his body tight against yours, he groans—a low, guttural sound—before the name slips out.

"Jean—"

The word cuts through the air like a knife, your euphoria draining in an instant, replaced by a sharp, hollow ache in your chest.

Your heart plummets, and the warmth of his body that moments ago felt so consuming now feels like ice against your skin. The name he whispered isn’t yours. It echoes in your head, louder than the pounding of your pulse, louder than the ragged breaths you're both still catching. You feel like you’ve been struck, yet somehow, you’re not surprised. You always knew this wasn’t really about you. But it doesn’t stop the ache spreading through your chest.

You close your eyes, swallowing the lump in your throat as the reality of it all comes crashing down. This was always going to hurt.

For a few seconds, neither of you moves. The weight of the moment lingers, heavy and unbearable. His body relaxes, but the guilt etched into his expression is unmistakable, and you can feel the shift in the air. The intimacy that just moments ago had been raw and consuming has evaporated, leaving behind only an awkward silence and a sense of regret so thick it’s suffocating.

You disentangle yourself from him slowly, the warmth of his skin now foreign, a reminder of what you never really had. You sit up, your body still trembling, trying to piece together your scattered thoughts. The room feels stifling now, every breath you take thick with the weight of everything left unsaid.

Logan’s eyes open, still clouded with the haze of pleasure, but they widen when he realizes what he’s done—what he’s said. Panic flashes across his face, but it’s too late. You’ve heard it, and you can’t unhear it.

“Shit…” he mutters under his breath, his hand reaching out as if to apologize, but you’re already pulling away, slipping out of his grasp like sand between his fingers.

“It’s fine,” you murmur, voice barely above a whisper, though the crack in it betrays you. You force yourself to keep moving, pulling your clothes back into place, each motion slow and deliberate, as if trying to hold yourself together with every button and clasp.

He doesn’t say anything, and for once, you’re grateful. You don’t want to hear an apology, you don’t want to hear him stumble over words of regret. You don’t want to hear him say her name again.

You stand up, back turned to him, your chest heaving not from passion, but from the pain you can’t quite swallow down. Your hands are shaking as you adjust your clothes, but you refuse to let him see it. You knew this was a mistake. You knew this wasn’t love.

“This was never meant to fix anything,” you finally say, your voice steadier than you feel. “I was just… trying to help.” The words taste bitter, but they’re true. You’d gotten caught up, you’d let yourself believe—if only for a moment—that maybe it could be more. But it never was.

Logan sits up, running a hand through his hair, looking at you with something that could almost be remorse. But it doesn’t matter anymore. He made his choice long before tonight.

With one last glance over your shoulder, you meet his gaze. His eyes are still shadowed by the weight of his unrequited love, and you can see it all too clearly now. You were never the one he needed. You never stood a chance.

“I’ll be fine,” you lie, turning back to the door, your footsteps heavy as you leave the room, abandoning the project you had started earlier that night, each step pulling you farther away from the moment that should’ve never happened.

But even as you walk away, you can’t shake the feeling that for a second, despite knowing better, you let yourself believe it was real.

———

a/n: i thrive off of feedback and criticism.

[pretzel-box]

STREAMER AU MASTERLIST HERE

PART 5: PAINT YOUR DOUBTS

Tags: Fluff, Drama, Angst, Stolen Identity, did I mention drama already? Also Painter!

Words: 3k

Authors Note: It’s almost Thursday and I couldn't wait. If it's weirdly written or you see mistakes: This was edited on my phone and I am suffering. Please bear with me.

Allison could see the lovestruck gleam in Sebastian’s eyes, and she knew she had won. Leaning closer, she gently rested her forehead against his, her lips curling into a sweet smile as her fingers intertwined with his. “I love you,” she whispered softly, her voice dripping with sincerity. “I always have.”

Sebastian drank in her words, soaking up the affection he so desperately craved. Those three simple words were enough to seal his fate. He pressed his lips to hers once more, the kiss soft but full of unspoken promises—promises to never leave her side, to always be there. In his arms, he finally had his Jelly, and he knew he would never let go.

As Sebastian held her close, his heart pounding as if it had been waiting for this moment all along. In his arms, he believed he finally had everything he ever wanted. Allison—Jelly—was his, and there was nothing that could break this moment.

Their kiss deepened, Sebastian’s grip on her tightened, not out of force, but from a sense of security, like he was holding on to the one thing that could keep him grounded. He pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against hers once again, his breath heavy but steady.

"I never thought I'd have you like this," Sebastian murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "I waited so long... I was scared I’d lose you before I ever had the chance."

Allison smiled, a hint of triumph hidden behind her gentle gaze. “You’ll never lose me, Sebastian,” she reassured him, her fingers tracing lazy circles on the back of his hand. “I’m right here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Inside, she felt a surge of victory—Sebastian was completely hers now. She had taken Jelly’s place, and he was none the wiser. Allison savored the way he looked at her with devotion, not realizing the depth of her manipulation. She had him right where she wanted him.

But as the two stood there, locked in the warmth of what felt like love to him and power to her, a tiny flicker of guilt brushed against Allison’s mind. She quickly pushed it away. This was for her, for her happiness. Being close to Solace, even if it meant betraying her friend, was worth it.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Sebastian continued, his eyes soft as he gazed at her. "It feels right—finally."

Allison leaned in, pressing another kiss to his lips, silencing him for the moment. She didn’t need to hear his words of devotion; she had already won the game.

And as they stood together, the world outside of this moment seemed distant. For now, Sebastian’s world revolved around Allison—his supposed Jelly—and she would make sure it stayed that way.

“How about I pick you up for lunch tomorrow? We can finally test out the new sushi bar you wanted to try so badly.” He whispers against her lips, hoping she would agree to his planned lunch date. He remembered every single thing about her, the way you excitedly rambled about sushi once. Sebastian had mentioned it to Allison again and of course she had to play along, telling him about a sushi bar that opened near their place.

The truth? Allison hated sushi. The smell, the texture, the taste—it all repulsed her. If she wanted the taste of raw fish, she'd rather go lick the ocean. But she couldn’t let that show, not now. Not when Sebastian was falling deeper into her trap. If she had to eat sushi to keep him hooked, she’d swallow every last bite with a smile.

She nodded, giggling like a schoolgirl. “Of course, I’d love to. Just the two of us,” she said sweetly, masking her distaste behind a charming facade.

Sebastian’s face lit up, his heart swelling at her response. “Just us,” he echoed, his voice full of affection. He kissed her forehead softly, pulling her closer in a warm embrace. “I can’t wait. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now.”

Allison smiled sweetly, but internally, she was already dreading tomorrow. The thought of raw fish made her stomach turn, but she couldn’t show any hint of discomfort. She had to play her part perfectly. If sushi was what it took to keep Sebastian wrapped around her finger, then she would endure it.

“Neither can I,” she said, her voice dripping with false excitement. She leaned into his chest, hiding the small grimace that flashed across her face for a brief moment. Allison could handle this. After all, she had gotten this far.

Sebastian stroked her hair, feeling content in her presence. To him, everything was falling into place. He had his Jelly, the one person he had been dreaming of for so long. Nothing could go wrong now.

As the night wore on and they eventually parted ways, Allison’s mind raced. She needed to make sure her disguise as Jelly was airtight. No slip-ups. She couldn’t afford to reveal her true identity now, not when Sebastian was already so smitten. She would suffer through sushi if that’s what it took. She had worked too hard to let it fall apart over something as trivial as food.

Tomorrow, she would smile and pretend to enjoy every bite. Tomorrow, she will play her role perfectly, just as she had from the start.

The next day arrived with the soft rumble of Sebastian's motorcycle pulling up in front of Allison's place. She stood at the entrance, wearing a carefully curated outfit that screamed casual, yet put-together. Her heart raced, but not out of excitement—more out of the looming dread of what she would have to do once they reached the sushi bar.

Sebastian flashed her a grin, his helmet already in hand as he handed her a second one. "Ready?" he asked, voice warm and full of affection.

Allison nodded with a smile, sliding on the helmet and hopping onto the back of his bike, wrapping her arms around his waist. The engine revved, and they sped off down the road, the cool breeze whipping past them as they navigated through the city.

The sushi bar was quaint, tucked into a quiet corner of the street. Sebastian parked the bike, helping Allison off before they entered the place together.

They were greeted with a soft glow from the restaurant's paper lanterns, the delicate smell of rice and fish wafting through the air. Allison tried to suppress her gag reflex as they were seated by the window. Sebastian looked relaxed, glancing over the menu with a small smile on his face, oblivious to her discomfort.

"I think I'll try the chef's special. What about you?" he asked, looking over at her expectantly.

Allison forced another smile. "That sounds great. I’ll have the same."

The waiter soon arrived, jotting down their orders and disappearing into the kitchen. Sebastian reached across the table, taking her hand in his. "I’m glad we’re doing this. Feels like it's been a long time coming."

Allison nodded, keeping her facade firmly in place. “Me too.”

But just as things seemed to be going smoothly for her, the door to the restaurant swung open, and her stomach dropped.

It was you.

You walked in, scanning the place casually before your gaze locked onto them. Sebastian noticed too, sitting up straighter, a grin forming on his face. He waved you over.

“Hey! Come join us!” Sebastian called out, his voice breaking through the serene ambiance of the restaurant. "Allison's here too, and you're her friend, right?"

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what you were walking into. But with no real reason to refuse, you offered a polite smile and walked over to the table. A thousand questions flew through your head as you tried to come up with a reasonable idea why the two of them sat together. “Hey guys,” you greeted them, sitting down as the waiter brought you a menu.

It wasn’t until you sat that the tension became palpable. You looked at Sebastian, then Allison, back and forth, trying to piece together the dynamic between them. The two of them seemed strangely close, almost too close.

Sensing your confusion, Sebastian spoke up. “I meant to tell you… actually, I was going to soon. Allison and I are… we’re dating now.” He said it with pride, glancing at Allison with that same lovestruck expression you recognized all too well.

Your heart sank. A thousand thoughts flooded your mind, each one cutting a little deeper than the last, but you kept your expression neutral, unwilling to let anything show.

“Wow, that’s… that’s great,” you managed to say, forcing a smile that you hoped looked genuine. “I’m really happy for you both.”

Sebastian beamed, clearly oblivious to the sudden shift in your demeanor. Allison, meanwhile, met your gaze with a triumphant smirk barely hidden behind her own facade.

You swallowed hard, your appetite vanishing as the reality settled in. Sebastian had moved on, with Allison of all people. But you had to play along. “So, what’s good here?” you asked lightly, trying to keep the conversation going while your mind raced.

Sebastian eagerly dove into a conversation about the menu and what he planned to order, but you could hardly focus on his words. Your thoughts were too loud, too heavy. You felt like an outsider sitting at the table with them, despite their warm invitation.

Pretending to be happy for them both was the only option you had.

In the span of the next five days, Allison seemed to make your house her permanent residence. She was loud, obnoxious, and clung to Sebastian like bubblegum that just wouldn’t let go. Your motivation to stream was at an all-time low, work had drained you completely, and the heartbreak you were going through felt like the final blow. You’d posted a community update on your streaming account, apologizing for your short absence without getting into much detail. Thankfully, your fans were understanding and flooded the post with messages of support. At least the strangers on the internet still had your back.

It was Thursday evening, and you carried two boxes of Chinese takeout—your favorite. Every third Thursday of the month was Chinese Takeout Thursday, a tradition you and Sebastian had started. Either one of you would bring home food, and the two of you would settle in for an episode of How I Married a Wall Dweller, your favorite TV drama.

You kicked off your shoes and set the takeout on the counter, feeling a brief flicker of hope for a cozy evening. But as you moved through the apartment, a soft, melodic strumming drifted out from Sebastian’s room, followed by Allison’s unmistakable, girly laughter. Your heart sank.

Sebastian was playing guitar for her.

He’d never played guitar for you. He always claimed he wasn’t good enough, that he didn’t want you to hear him make mistakes. Yet here he was, strumming away like he had nothing to hide, serenading Allison while you stood there, boxes of takeout in hand, feeling like you didn’t belong in your own home.

You grabbed one box of takeout and tossed the other in the trash, not even caring. The excitement for your shared tradition had evaporated, leaving a dull ache in its place. With a heavy sigh, you retreated to your room, settling into bed and turning on your favorite TV drama. The room felt unusually cold that night, a chill that settled deep in your bones.

Allison, however, wasn’t resting easy. The more you withdrew from Sebastian, the more threatened she felt. She couldn’t stand the thought of you finding solace in streaming—one thing she couldn't control, especially since she knew how much Sebastian cared about your streaming career.

So she concocted another plan: get Jellycatfished banned.

It wasn’t difficult. You’d been careless enough to use the same password for everything, and Allison had no trouble logging in to your streaming account. It took her mere minutes to get you banned by triggering multiple violations. She knew Sebastian would be concerned and question what had happened, but she was ready with a perfect excuse:

The platform must have made a mistake. They banned you for no reason.

It was flawless. You’d be out of the streaming scene, and she’d make sure Sebastian stayed oblivious. No more streams, no more collaboration invites—just her and Sebastian.

Another win for Allison.

The moment the notification hit your inbox, your heart sank. Your account—Jellycatfished—banned. All the hours, all the work, gone in an instant. It felt like the final straw. You could handle work stress, you could even tolerate Allison’s constant presence, but this? This was your safe space, your escape, and now it is gone.

Without thinking, your first instinct was to message Solace. He deserved to know. You quickly typed a message, your hands trembling as you tried to explain the situation.

"Hey, I just got banned from the platform. I don’t know what happened... but I thought you should know."

What you didn’t realize was that Allison had already gotten to him. She’d mentioned it casually when he asked why you hadn’t been streaming, spinning her story about how the platform must have glitched and banned you for no reason.

Sebastian had seemed concerned, sure, but Allison’s explanation had been so confident, so convincing, that he hadn’t questioned it too much. So when your message came through, his response was quick but flat.

"Yeah, you mentioned that during our date earlier. That sucks, but I’m sure it’ll get sorted out."

You stared at his reply, your heart sinking even further. The words didn't make sense, not at all. Date? What date? The realization crashed over you, an emotional tidal wave that made your head spin. You flung your phone onto your bed, letting out a muffled scream into your pillow, your nails digging deep into the fabric as rage, betrayal, and frustration surged through you. Allison had done it. She had somehow stolen your account, your identity, and now, it seemed, she was trying to steal everything else too.

As the echoes of your scream faded into the stillness of your room, you pulled yourself up and grabbed your phone again. The silence around you was stifling, heavy with the weight of everything you’d just uncovered. You took a breath, your fingers trembling as they hovered over the keyboard.

"Solace, we are not dating."

The reply came quickly.

"What do you mean, we are not? We had so many dates already, Ally. You want me to actually officially ask you out? Let me prepare at least, cutie."

He didn’t get it. He didn’t catch the weight of your words at all.

You hesitated for a moment, then typed, "Solace, I am not Ally. It's me. Your roommate."* You added your name for clarity.

And then... silence. Nothing. No response. No footsteps coming toward your door. Nothing at all.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the hallway, Sebastian was staring at his screen in growing confusion. It’s you and not Allison? How? His thoughts raced, his heart pounding in his chest as he struggled to process. He quickly opened another chat, the one he’d been using with Allison for weeks, his fingers moving frantically across the keyboard.

"Babe, why is my roommate on your Discord?"

Miles away, Allison had just stepped out of the shower, towel wrapped around her as she glanced at her phone. Her face paled, her heart skipping a beat when she saw Sebastian’s message. You sneaky little worm... she thought, fury bubbling inside her. You were trying to expose her, daring to unravel the web she’d so carefully woven. But Allison wasn’t going to let that happen without a fight.

She quickly typed back, her fingers flying over the screen.

"Oh god. Seb, I didn’t want to tell you at first..."

“Your roommate is in love with you…they are actually stalking me now since I became your girlfriend and they are jealous. Seems like they even hacked my discord and pretended that they are me…What if they got my streaming account banned too?”

"I'm so sorry, Ally. I promise I'll get this sorted out. No matter what happens, you're my priority, and I support you."

Sebastian’s words echoed in his head, gnawing at him days later as the whole situation weighed heavily on his nerves. He hadn’t even had the chance to talk to you yet, having blocked your Discord account per Allison's suggestion. She'd convinced him it was safer that way until she could switch out her email and password.

Sitting in Painter’s little tech shop, Sebastian sipped on his cup of instant coffee, his mind swirling. "Man, you look horrible," Painter, his friend and confidant, remarked from across the counter. Painter’s small shop was filled with parts and gadgets, tech stuff scattered everywhere, but today it felt heavier with the weight of Sebastian’s troubles.

“It all makes sense now, Painter. The movie nights, Chinese takeout days, working together...Meeting them in the Sushi Bar even. God, I was so blind." He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair before pulling out his phone and sliding it over to his friend. Painter picked it up, scrolling through the chat history and screenshots Sebastian had saved before blocking you.

As he scrolled, Painter’s brow furrowed. Something wasn’t sitting right. His fingers moved faster across the screen, pulling up messages and logs, all while Sebastian sat there, completely spaced out. Painter and Sebastian had a close bond, and having his friend type on his phone wasn’t unusual. In fact, they often shared stuff like this.

"I'm sorry, man. This really sounds tough," Painter mumbled, his voice distant as he dug deeper into the details. Secretly, Painter unblocked your Discord, his technical expertise kicking into high gear. After a few moments, he managed to pull up something that made him pause: the IP address.

He cross-checked it with the logs and Sebastian's own information. It was the same IP. How could that be? Painter’s mind raced. If this account really belonged to Allison, there was no way it would have the same IP as Sebastian’s unless…

Painter’s heart sank as the realization hit. The only possibility was that the account was yours. You had been telling the truth all along.

[hypnagogics]

doing ellie's makeup? I FEEL LIKE THAT'D BE SO CUTE TY

IMPORTANT. READ THIS FIRST 🇵🇸 AND CLICK HERE TO HELP, IT TAKES 10 SECONDS.

☆:this is adorable omg i <3 fluff. disclaimer: i know absolutely nothing about makeup lol but had fun writing thiss. also fuck ACCIDENTALLY POSTED THIS A LOT EARLIER THAN I MEANT TO. i wanna take this down to edit it some more, embellish it..but don't wish to lose the ask....tumblr lemme private crap when i've misclicked pls. no warnings, just fluff. except not proofread whoops.

doing ellie’s makeup.

a package had just arrived in the mail. you had previously ordered some new products, and were overjoyed about your purchases! needed to try them out, so you got an idea. she wasn't doing anything important right now….surely your artist girlfriend wouldn't mind being the canvas for a change?

“ellie, can I do your makeup??”

you sat down next to her sprawled out form on the couch, scrolling on her phone mindlessly as she shifted to the side to make space for you. she furrowed her eyebrows and didn't look up from her scrolling to murmur, “mmmmm…sure, why not.” you almost jumped for joy, she was going to look so pretty. ellie almost regretted allowing this, but seeing how happy you looked made her melt immediately. “okay wait here.” you went to gather your basket of products, so excited. she put her phone away and waited patiently for you to return. you returned and sat beside her, but that positioning wasn't allowing you to see properly. “lemme sit on you.” she continued laying down and you got on top of her to straddle her waist, laughing at her facial expressions. she wiggled her eyebrows and held onto your hips, thumbs making little circles, “i'm enjoying this.” she said, making your cheeks heat up the smallest touch. you lightly slapped her hands away, “oh shut up, i can't do this well if i'm not like, 3 inches from your face.” “alright, alright princess,” she said through a chuckle, dropping her arms by her sides. still smirking, proud of her jokes. “put this on.” you hand her a ridiculous looking headband, a pink one with a huge bow in the front, to put on to get her soft auburn hair out of her face, and she shoots you a look, but complies anyway. mischievously rubbing your hands together, you search for the base products to apply first. she watches curiously as you set up all the brushes and sponges to give her the makeover of a lifetime. you select one and show it to her, “i'll do this one, its light coverage because i don't wanna cover your freckles. i love them too much to do that.” she nods along, absorbing the information, her cheeks turning a light pink at the compliment. as you apply all the products to her face, she seems so relaxed. you’d honestly expected her to not be a fan, but it was lovely to see her closing her eyes, and just letting you paint her however you so pleased. it was a win/win situation, a sweet moment for both.

you went through most of the routine, and it was time for eye products. making sure to emphasize your point, “okay, stay veeeeery still.” she seemed so at peace, and nodded to say she heard you. you got closer to her, eyeliner pen in hand and as soon as you made contact with her delicate eyelid, her eye started twitching and she burst into giggles. “hey, that tickles.” “ellie stay still, i’ll poke your eye out, cmon, i’m almost done.” “i’m tryin baby.” steadying your drawing hand, and steadying her by holding onto her cheek, slowly but surely you do her eyeliner. it’s uneven and a little wonky because she couldn’t be as still as needed, but charming, if you do say so yourself. and the final step, you pick out your sparkliest lip gloss. as you were applying the finishing touches, she was watching your focus intently, watching your movements so intimately. “there, done.” you finish and lean away from her, inspecting your work. she almost looked like a different person, but the way you’d done it accentuated her features perfectly, and made her green eyes just pop. she looked stellar. lips plump and sparkly, cheeks wonderfully rosy, like a doll. you squealed, “you look so good!!” she batted her mascara covered eyelashes as she sat up closer to you, who’s still on her lap, and pressed a messy kiss to your lips, smearing her gloss everywhere. “ellieeee, wait i gotta fix it.” you fix her lips, holding onto her chin as you do so, and get up so she can visit a mirror to take a look. she gasped, “oh wow.” you watched as she posed and inspected her makeover in front of the mirror, fascinated. “wow, i don’t look like myself….but i kinda love it." she throws a toothy grin your way. “i’m glad, thanks for letting me els.” she kept inspecting and looking at herself, “y’know, the more i look at this the more i like it. you can practice on me more often if you want.” this made you so happy, she looks great as ever with whatever she decides to do with her appearance, and it was so much fun to do this for her.

[maximotts]

i feel like cowboy wanda would be so gentle the first few times she has sex with you bc she’s worried she’ll hurt you and scare you off but eventually she loses control a bit and manhandles you into position and when she pins you down, you moan and then the most DEVILISH smile spreads across her face

Ooo okay okay it's interesting you brought this up because I've been thinking about their first encounter a bit lately! We'll ignore that this turned into a whole fic, okay? I love them sm Also this isn't really edited because it was supposed to be a short answer and now it's uhm.. not short, so forgive any typos

18+ only please . wc: 2.7k . cw: first meeting hookup, drinking, dirty talk, oral, fingering, v light spanking, lap sits, possessiveness, Wanda being smitten, the pickup truck sex a lot of y'all have been asking me about that I said was coming, morning after with Wanda because she's as proper as she is filthy

Basically right now I have their first time more as a hookup where bunny is new to town and goes out to a bar one night to maybe make friends and see the environment, but then she meets Wanda and her group of friends who are all more than welcoming and you're having a great time hanging out with them.

But your eyes keep drifting to Wanda. Of course Wanda notices and, being the smooth talker she is, starts flirting with the new girl. She buys you as many drinks as you want which, end up being stronger than you're used to, but your nerves keep you ordering more. When she finally slips an arm around you, cornering you in the booth you'd only just plopped yourself into, you're more than ready for Wanda to kiss you— and kiss you she does.

You're shy by nature, never having made out with anyone in a bar, much less with a girl you'd only known for a few hours, but Wanda's thumb brushing over your cheek while she bites down on your bottom lip has you forgetting everything you're used to which admittedly, isn't much. Somehow she's pulled your thighs over her own, toying with the stretchy hem of the form-fitting skirt you'd decided to wear last minute. When she touches a particularly sensitive spot, you shiver and Wanda chuckles, "You cold, darlin'? Pretty as your arms are, I'll let you borrow my jacket if it'd help."

And so the night goes on with Wanda's thick denim jacket slung over your shoulders, her arm around your waist wherever the two of you walk. Normally you'd hate the presumptive way the cowgirl was handling you, as if she owned you already, but you'd be damned if you didn't admit you wanted her to stake her claim. So, in your slightly inebriated state, you took a leap, "Wands, I'm sleepy..."

Which catches her attention immediately. "Well now," Wanda pulls you close then, fingers carefully treading the line between caressing your hip and groping your ass; it would be the first time she whispers in your ear, but it'll never stop being insanely hot. "I hope you're telling me because you're going to let me take you home. I'd be real sad leaving tonight without you."

You wish your giggle of a reply didn't sound so girlish and naïve, but in hindsight, you had no idea the sheer intensity you were in for. "Only if you promise to behave yourself."

—

She's driven about halfway back to her house before she has to pull over; technically it was her land, pulled over to the side of the winding road and turning her truck engine off. "I know I promised to take you home, I still will, but I can't take another second not having my hands on you."

It takes you back a little; all you'd been doing was scratching over her jeans while you stared at the woman driving, but you weren't going to argue with her. "I don't really-"

"I've wanted you on my lap since I laid eyes on you. Get over here." Thankfully she doesn't have to convince you any farther, holding back a groan as you straddled her legs, skirt riding up inch by inch. It was a tight squeeze with you between her and the steering wheel, but Wanda hardly noticed once you started kissing her. This time was impossibly hotter, Wanda's tongue taking control of the kiss before moving on to shamelessly leave marks along your jaw and neck.

And Wanda is too good at getting your clothes out of the way, leaving you topless with record speed, squeezing at your breasts roughly while you struggled just to keep up with her mouth. "What if someone sees..."

The brunette only starts toying with your nipples, relishing in the way it got you rolling your hips. "It's pitch dark, silly girl. I can barely see you out here, don't worry your pretty little head."

You lost the last bit of your restraint the moment Wanda passed her fingertips over your underwear. They were thin lace, chosen by design so as not to show under your skirt, but they drove Wanda wild. She pushed them aside to slide her fingers along where you were already warm and sensitive, hips stuttering as she stroked over your clit. "O-Oh.."

"Look at you, already wet and needy. Were you like this all night? That why I caught you squeezing your thighs together so often?" You shook your head, trying to deny it, but you weren't even fooling yourself.

Wanda's had you rocking in place for hours by this point; you thought sure you'd been subtle and being called out for your behavior found your head ducking into the crook of Wanda's shoulder to avoid her knowing gaze. "Aww, it's okay! It'll be our little secret, promise..."

Wanda discovered night one what a responsive person you were, delighting in the vice grip you held on the back of her seat while she rolled your nipple in time with her other hand on your sensitive bud. You rocked against her hands as best you could, fighting to keep pace, but hopefully not finish so easily— it'd just been so long and you needed this much more than expected.

The next morning, you'd blame the alcohol. "Wanda please, I- I need.."

"What do you need, sweetheart, wanna cum? Make a mess in my truck after I barely got started with you?" You were nodding so hard your neck hurt, moaning quietly as you felt your body reach its peak; the first of many that night. Ears ringing and thoughts so pleasantly fuzzy, you couldn't recall a time you'd felt more free, in an old pickup truck or otherwise.

"Ooh, aren't you just a masterpiece..." The brunette took her time letting you down, pointer and middle fingers wandering until they just barely pushed into you: less than an inch, but unendingly torturous. "Sounds like I was able to make you feel better, least a little bit."

Tired hips tried every which way to sink onto Wanda's long fingers, the same ones you'd felt on you over your clothes back in the bar and had lists of naughty places you wanted her to put them. But each time, your lover avoids delving anywhere past shallow. "You're being mean, just fuck me."

"Mean? After I let you cum as early as you wanted? You don't know what mean looks like on me. Don't think you want to," A succession of wet slaps echoed in the truck's cabin, the silence of everything around you both amplifying the sound of Wanda lightly hitting your sensitive cunt and your resulting whimpers.

"Told you so. Now, bend over and stay still while I get a proper look like the obedient girl I know you are," Manhandling you over the length of her seats shouldn't have been as easy as it was after the long night out, but Wanda was strong and you never fought her while she pushed your arms to the passenger car door and spread your bent knees apart.

If you were begging her to fuck you out loud, you wouldn't be surprised, wishing so hard that if Wanda still refused to give you exactly what you wanted, she'd at least use her fingers, tongue, anything to fill where you currently felt so empty. "Please- I need more-"

Your thighs shake as she licks over your puffy folds, mumbling the most depraved things about you, your taste, your warmth, leaving you with the most intoxicating combination of feeling both used and adored. "You just keep dripping into my mouth, baby, it's impossible to keep you clean..."

"Can't help it, sorry," But your words aren't matching your actions, not when you kept searching out Wanda's tongue each time she flicked at your clit, pitifully rolling over the rough surface whenever she flattened it out.

You'd long since fogged up the windows, smudging the fog as your overheated cheek met the cold glass; each time you managed to open your eyes you remember exactly where you are, woods rustling in the middle of the night. "W-Wanda! 'm close again, please please...!"

"Mean girls wouldn't let you have two orgasms back to back, no matter how pretty." Wanda likes to believe she actually thought about whether or not to give you what you wanted, but in reality she knew she would leave you wanting the second you turned bratty. Sure it was a risk, not knowing how you'd react, but it was well worth the test to see if you had a chance of handling her past a quick night's distraction. "Straighten up, we're only a few minutes from home."

"That's not fair—"

But Wanda was already pushing you upright again, haphazardly fixing your dress, going so far as to buckle your seatbelt as if it'd keep you from your uncomfortable wiggling. "My car my rules! Like I said, we're not far."

Wanda expected you to pout and huff the whole way, worried in the back of her mind you wouldn't let her lay another hand on you after her denial, but she was pleasantly surprised. Somewhere shortly after she pulled back onto the road, you'd taken her hand; first just to play with her fingers, innocent fidgeting at best, but before she knew it, her digits were engulfed in sinfully wet warmth.

Her fingers in your mouth made the pair of you dizzy, hands holding her wrist as you pumped her digits in and out, tongue swirling over the tips and grinning once Wanda's neutral expression cracked, lips parting in a low groan. "Do mean girls let the good ones suck the strap they've been feeling near them all night or do they only get to play with their hands?"

"Depends on if they show them how bad they want it." Wanda could only look your way for seconds at a time, the visual of your half-lidded gaze trained on her jeans while you so obviously used your imagination to envision some other scenario, muffling your own needy sounds as you forced her fingers to the back of your throat... she'd underestimated the new girl.

Whether it was any lingering alcohol talking or whatever boldness Wanda unlocked that night, something urged you to continue goading her, making a show of spreading your legs and slipping her wet fingers to your sex before closing them once more, slowly grinding her shaking digits to sate yourself for that last tiny stretch of road to the farmhouse. "Bad enough to turn your hand into a toy for as long as you let me."

Wanda made that final turn up her driveway, parking her truck fast as she could with only one hand, "You're lucky I didn't crash just now, you little devil, can't wait to get you inside."

"Lead the way, since we're playing by your rules and all." As soon as she got her hand back, Wanda practically dragged you from her vehicle and for as many hours as you spent awake in her home, you couldn't remember a single detail of any room she brought you through that night.

—

When you wake up, it's to a dimly lit bedroom, curtains drawn so only a sliver of late morning sun peeked through. Your body ached, but it wasn't from the drinking, taut muscles and lethargic thoughts bringing back bits and pieces of everything you got up to the second Wanda got you past the front door.

The same Wanda whose bed you assumed you were currently sprawled out in. Doubt crept in as you realized you're alone, fretting over if you should've fallen asleep there or not. You were deciding whether it'd be more awkward to sneak out and go back to town on foot or to search out Wanda and ask if she'd mind driving you back to your place when you heard a single knock on the door. "Can I come in?"

Your brow furrowed, "It's your room, of course you can come in." Wanda cracked the door slowly, the back of her loose flannel shirt greeting you first before she turned around, a small tray in her hands. "Sorry for crashing."

"Never said you were unwelcome, I'm sorry for letting you wake up in a strange place by yourself... and for not leaving you at least a shirt, my bad." Your arms hastily bundled the blankets to cover your chest, your nakedness pointed out to you, but Wanda laughed, setting the tray down before heading for her dresser. "Don't worry, darlin, I love the view just as much in the daylight."

"What a reassuring hostess I have," Pulling the t-shirt she tossed you over your head, the delightful scents coming from the tray down the bed now catching your attention. On it was a short stack of pancakes, bacon, orange juice, strawberries... the biggest breakfast you'd seen since you'd come to town. "Did you make that?"

Wanda nodded and slid the food closer to you before sitting on the edge of her mattress, "I don't typically make this much food, but I had to get up early to make some rounds in the barn and I figured I owed you a hearty breakfast after such a nice night."

There was something so endearing to how she explained her actions, rambling on to offset her nerves, No one had even gone to such lengths to make your morning so comfortable after a single hookup, but this set the bar high for anyone else who tried. Not that you'd ever have to worry about another first night, but neither of you knew that yet.

For now Wanda scrambled to find the right way to show genuine interest in the girl she'd brought home and fucked every which way until they passed out and you amusedly ate your special pancakes while watching Wanda try, her fumbling charming you more than she'd ever imagine.

Eventually you put her out of her misery, putting down your utensils to sit up on your knees and stretch over to plant a quick kiss on her soft lips. "I really appreciate it and I'm not even a bit mad with how I woke up, but it's very sweet of you to care, Wands."

"Oh good because I'd really like to see you again sometime, if you're up for it." It would be a rare thing to see Wanda so continuously shy, but she was uncharacteristically smitten and she wanted to get to know you before the rest of the small town came for their changes too.

You hummed as you popped a strawberry into your mouth, licking your fingers in a way that painfully reminded Wanda of the previous night, "How's today?"

"Today?" The farmgirl ran a hand through her long hair, cocking her head to the side much like a lost puppy.

"Yeah, today. If you wouldn't mind me following along." With each minute that ticked past, the less you wanted to leave, much preferring a Sunday spent with Wanda than in your flat full of moving boxes.

Her eyes lit up, smile brighter than the sun, “Can’t complain about a beautiful girl all to myself all day!" Wanda was practically buzzing with everything she wanted to show you, from the chicken coops to the haylofts, but she forced herself to keep her cool.. on the surface at least. "Finish up breakfast and I'll find you some kind of pants."

"But I'm so cozy right here without them." Maneuvering over the last bits of food on your plate meant you more fell into Wanda's lap than sat on it, but she caught you nonetheless, tugging you down for the proper kiss she'd been waiting to share with you since early morning light. "Come back to bed with me?"

After the long sleep your energy was renewed, finally able to take Wanda into all your senses again, the taste of her lips, the subtle earthy smell from the work she'd already done that day, her strong hands settling confidently on your upper thighs... getting dressed was the last thing on either of your minds. "Wouldn't be much of a hostess if I didn't let my guest do as she pleased."

In the end, the pair of you might've set the world record for longest date from Sunday morning to when Wanda finally dropped a reluctant you back into town Wednesday afternoon.

[lovesickonmybed]

What if Bully Ellie and the reader are exes and now Ellie just wants to make the reader's life miserable 💀💀 I will pay for it, bc I know she will be so mean to her but the moment a new girl wants to make a move on reader Ellie will lose it

better than me | 18+

masterlist | info about palestine | donate to gaza

pairing | bully!ex!ellie x ex!reader

synopsis | ellie isn't handling your break up well, her jealousy and anger taking over in the worst ways

warnings | 18+ MDNI!! wedgies, bullying, insults, jealousy, toxic behavior, sexual context, masturbation.

word count | 2k

a/n | honestly i'm kind of debating turning this into a miniseries because i really like this concept and kind of want to see where i could take it but let me know what y'all think!! i wrote this in the middle of the night with zero editing so if you see any mistakes no you don't. i urge you to not buy any of the last of us games, including the remaster as the creator, neil druckmann is a zionist. the second game is based off of the israeli occupation in palestine and you can learn more about that here.

You and Ellie had a very messy breakup, one she couldn’t get over. So she started bullying you. It started your freshman year of college, only two weeks after the breakup. Ellie had gone up to you in the locker room at the school's gym. She looked at you with an angry glare, “Move, you’re in my way.” She glares at you with her arms crossed, she had never looked at you like that before. 

“Just go around, you can literally climb over the bench. I don’t wanna talk to you,” you say, the breakup still fresh for you. 

Ellie shoves you back lightly, not breaking her glare, “No. You’re gonna move.” This exchange had garnered them a crowd, a lot of the girls in the room glancing over at the pair. Ellie is stubborn but so are you.

“Who the fuck do you think you are? This isn’t you, Ellie!” You exclaim, not even caring if you’re causing a scene. You’ve never seen this side of her and it upsets you. You’re not even expecting it when she grabs you by your shoulders and spins you around, quickly pushing you face first against the cold metal lockers. She grabs the waistband of your gym shorts and pulls it away from your body, giving her access to your underwear. She wraps her fingers around your waistband and you beg as soon as you feel her cold fingers brush against your skin. 

“Ellie, whatever you’re about to do, don't do it, please! I-I’m sorry! I should’ve moved!” You plead with her to literally save your own ass. It doesn’t work. She grips the waistband, pressing her arm hard against your back to keep you in place.

“You should’ve listened to me when I told you to fucking move,” Ellie borderline snarls before pulling hard on your waistband, the cotton fabric of your panties forcing its way up and between your cheeks. You yelp in pain and instinctively try to run, causing Ellie to pull even harder, forcing you onto your toes in seconds. You try every trick in the book to escape the pain but it’s no use, she has you right where she wants you and you’re not going anywhere.

She pulls and pulls at your panties, hiking them up to your shoulders before letting go of your waistband, laughing when you whine as it snaps back against you. She continues to hold your body against the locker, pressing herself against you and gripping your hair painfully. “You better listen to me next time I tell you to do something you fucking loser,” she threatens before letting you go and shoving past you to get to her locker. You look around the locker room with embarrassment, looking down at the ground and trying to hide your face with your hair as you grab the rest of your things from your locker before running out of the locker room and back to your dorm. 

You encounter her again a week later, you’re out in the quad talking with a girl from one of your classes, her name is Layla. You’re both sitting on a blanket she brought, talking about an assignment, cracking jokes here and there. You’re having a great time, smiling bigger than you had in a while, cheeks flushed when she compliments you. It’s bliss until Ellie comes along. She’s walking back to her dorm after an annoyingly long lecture, she’s got an overpriced iced coffee in her hand that she bought from the campus coffee shop and a pissed off look on her face. 

She’s speed walking, wanting to get away from everyone and everything when she spots you and Layla. You’re leaning in and giggling, smiling like you did when you were with Ellie. It makes her heart ache and before she even realizes it she’s walking over to the both of you. Her mouth feels dry as she’s standing in front of you two. She looks down and feels nauseous as you both look up at her.

“Uh, can I help you?” You ask coldly, glaring up at her. She looks nervous, and it’s slightly amusing to you to see her like this. Your date grabs your hand reassuringly, aware of the incident that had happened a few weeks ago. 

“What are you doing?” Ellie asks, her mouth moving quicker than her brain. She mentally facepalms after realizing what she’s said. It’s obvious what you’re doing and Ellie fucking hates it. 

“We’re just…hanging out. Why do you care?” You respond, looking away from her, focusing your eyes on a bird flying around in the distance. 

Ellie shuffles her feet and racks her brain, trying to come up with a response. “I-I-” She cuts herself off, still trying to find the words.

“Can you just leave us alone, we’re just trying to hang out and enjoy some fresh air. We’re not bothering anyone, okay?” Layla says, speaking up for the both of you. This angers Ellie even more, she doesn’t want to hear a word Layla has to say. She’s seeing red, jealous when she knows she has no right to be. She wants to act logically but she can’t, she acts purely on emotion as she tosses her coffee at Layla. It sends you both gasping in surprise scooting back, but not near quick enough to avoid the splash. You groan as you realize your white shirt has been covered in Ellies drink. Ellie is just as shocked by her actions as you are, she’s quick to run off, wanting to get back to her dorm as quickly as possible. 

You and Layla scramble to figure out what to do, using the blanket to dry yourselves. All you do is make the stains on your shirt and light wash jeans even worse and you hang your head in embarrassment as she walks you back to your dorm. You let her borrow some clothes and your shower stuff as she goes and gets herself cleaned up, you can’t lie she looks pretty good in your clothes even if it is just a black t-shirt and some sweatpants. You have your turn to shower and change and when you finish up you go back into your room to talk to Layla.

“I’m so sorry about that, I had no idea she was gonna do that. She hasn’t been herself since we broke up, she’s all mean now, it’s weird…” You apologize, sitting down on your twin bed next to her, brushing through your wet hair. 

Layla looks at you and smiles reassuringly, “It’s not your fault. You’re not responsible for her now, if she can’t get over it she should talk to you instead of acting like such a dick. It’s not like you knew she’d do something so ridiculous.” You lay your head on her shoulder and look down at your lap. 

“I just feel bad you got caught up in this shit, she shouldn’t be messing with anyone else. I mean, she’s mad at me, there’s no reason for you to get caught in the middle of it,” you sigh. Layla once again grabs your hand, rubbing circles into your skin with her thumb. 

“She’s mad at me too for taking you out on a cute little picnic,” she chuckles, resting her head against yours. You feel comfortable and happy with her, but there’s a part of you that feels like something is missing. You push down the feeling, it’s not something you feel like addressing in the middle of such a sweet moment. You push back your memories of Ellie and let yourself smile as you and Layla cuddle up together. She stays over for an hour, cuddling with you and talking about class and getting to know each other better, you’re grateful she doesn’t bring up Ellie again. When she leaves she promises to return your clothes when she sees you again, you couldn’t care less if she did, she looks better in them, anyway. 

Ellie is freaking the fuck out when she gets back to her dorm room, completely out of breath as she had run the entire way there. She’s thankful Dina isn’t there as she collapses onto her bed hyperventilating. She hasn’t always been great at impulse control, everyone who’s known her has known this. But she didn’t think it was bad enough for something like that to happen. She knows she’s going about everything wrong, there’s no way she’s getting you back acting like that, but she doesn’t know how to get her shit together. 

“I’m so fucking stupid oh my goddd,” Ellie groans, grabbing her pillow and screaming into it in frustration. She’s embarrassed and angry and still feels pangs of jealousy as she thinks about you and Layla giggling together in the grass. Ellie had never taken you on a picnic, when you dated it was mostly arcade and movie dates, she hadn’t even thought you’d want to do something outdoors. She overthinks it, convincing herself you broke up with her because she never took you on a nature date. It’s a stupid, irrational thought, and Ellie knows that, but she doesn’t care. She needs to let herself spiral before she can pick herself back up and make a plan that doesn’t make you look at her like she’s a complete jackass. 

“I need to apologize, tell her I’m sorry for the wedgie and the coffee and fucking up her date…her date with that girl who doesn’t deserve her but whatever…” Ellie mumbles to herself, pulling at her hair stressfully. She thinks back to the wedgie incident, she completely humiliated you and it got her wet. Your pathetic little noises, how you were at her mercy like that, it just did it for her. She scrunches up her nose, trying to convince herself to stop thinking about it like that but it doesn’t take long for her to soak her panties once again. 

“If I take care of it, I’ll stop thinking about it,” she mutters as she tries to convince herself it’s okay to get off to the memory. She slips off her jeans and slips her hand under her panties, starting off by flicking her clit, whining pathetically at the sensation. She slips two of her fingers inside her soaked cunt, pumping them in and out slowly as she uses her thumb to stimulate her clit. She continues working her fingers in and out of her cunt as she bites her lip to keep her noises to a minimum. All she can think about is how pathetic you sounded as you took your wedgie, she replays the noises in her head, loving how you sounded. You never sounded like that when you had slept together, that was a side of you she didn’t get to see until she had your waistband in her hand. It doesn’t take her long to cum, whimpering out your name as she reaches her climax. She lazily works her way through her orgasm, wishing it was your fingers instead. She feels guilty afterwards, mumbling to herself that she’s not doing that again.

She forces herself to get out of bed and into the cramped bathroom she shares with Dina so that she can wash off her shame. Little does she know that you’re in your dorm room doing the same, pumping your fingers in and out of your cunt shamefully as you use your other hand to pull your panties like Ellie had. The feeling of powerlessness, pain, and humiliation had all combined into pleasure in your brain. You halfway moan Ellie’s name when you cum, cutting yourself off when you realize what name is leaving your lips. “I’m never doing that again,” you promise yourself as the shame bubbles up inside of you. For once you’re grateful for your roommate to come bursting in the door, you let her nonsensical rant about whatever show she was watching distract you from the lingering thoughts of Ellie’s hands on your waistband.

[giveafike]

thigh riding with ben….. pleaseeeee 😂

TLDR: You miss Ben so much and you're needy. So when he comes back, you're straddling.

Word count + info: 2.1k! Dialogue, fem reader x B.T.S

Warnings + Content Ahead: NSFW - MINORS DNI! Thighriding, hickeys, kissing...that's it I think.

Azzie Notes ✚: Mhmmm you got it! Based off of the poll I did, here's the NSFW blurb u NASTY PEOPLE wanted (kidding, I am just as bad)

Thigh riding blurb is here! I have another draft ready to post, but I'll slow release 'em so I can finish off one story while a new one goes up. I take so long to write im srry : ( but! a few long stories are comin' along. By the time this goes up, I should have 1.5-2 more prompts ready to go?

Do we like longer stories as in like 3k+ word count? Or shorter ones? send me a DM or anon feedback pls I wanna know how I'm doing or if you wish I added things (like more description, more dialogue, more focus on story plot, less extra content) and stuff! Lmk!

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Come Here - B.T.S

It was early when Ben left for training, his morning routine blending quiet focus and unshakable determination. He’d stirred you awake by wrapping his strong arms around you, planting soft kisses on the back of your head, like he always does. Even half-asleep, you watched him from under the covers as he got dressed, catching glimpses of those defined muscles moving while the morning light danced across his skin, with shadows making him look like a model as he pulled on his tennis gear. He flashed you that heart-stopping grin, whispering a soft “Good mornin', see you later,” before leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your forehead.

Now, hours later, you sat slouched at your kitchen table, dumbfounded pretending to work at home but failing miserably. Ben has been your boyfriend for so long but here you were, squirmish like you just met him. You’d tried everything to distract you; trying to type up emails, playing soft music, making coffee, but nothing could pull your mind from the simmering heat that had taken hold of you since the morning. Your coffee had gone cold, your laptop had entered sleep mode, and all you could think about was Ben. Work wasn’t hard today; your focus was just... elsewhere.

Maybe it was the morning show or maybe it was shortly after that when he left out the door, when you were in bed, squinting at your phone while mindlessly scrolling Twitter. Someone had posted a picture of Ben fresh from a training session, his shirt clinging to his chest, damp curls swept back, legs muscular and defined. Then there was that TikTok edit, showcasing highlights of your man on the court. His veins popped with each power shot, his thick thighs moved like a stallion’s as he manoeuvred with ease, and the intense focus in his eyes, it all did something to you.

The heat rose to your cheeks again just thinking about it as you groaned, throwing your hands over your face. Normally, you’d smirk, knowing all that was yours, but now you were losing it like a fangirl. It was as if you’d been thrown back into the honeymoon phase, when every glance, every accidental brush of his skin would send electricity through your veins. You couldn’t stop imagining the way his thighs flexed beneath those stupid short shorts, the strength in his legs when he held you, and how his hands clenched whenever he secured a set.

You leaned back in your chair, now fanning your face. Nothing was helping the ache building inside of you as you clenched your thighs together. Your phone buzzed with another work notification, but the words blurred. All you could think about was Ben, how bad you wanted him here, how feral you'd be if you could have his solid chest under your hands, the way he whispered obscene things in your ear, and how he’d press you close, body warm and firm against yours.

God, you missed him.

It wasn’t even like he’d been gone for days, but the thought of him out there, sweating and training, only made the hours stretch longer. You were arguing with yourself, trying to get a grip. You resisted the urge to text or call him, knowing he needed to stay focused. If you asked him to come home for a “lunch break,” he would, and he wouldn’t be able to leave you afterwards. And you didn’t want to break his concentration with needy messages about how hot he looked or how badly you wanted him.

By the time 4:00 PM rolled around, all you could think about was him. You’d tried a cold shower to cool yourself down, but it only made your thoughts swirl more. In every room you entered, you could imagine Ben beside or behind you, his presence filling the space; "God if he was here...". Restless, you ended up on the sofa in one of his T-shirts and some shorts, bouncing your leg as you waited. Everything about him that you’d craved all day swirled in your mind. You put on some show on Netflix, and the noise keeps you company as you wait.

Finally, you heard the front door unlock, and before you knew it, you were perked up, staring at the door.

Ben stepped in, fresh from a shower, his face flushed from coming back, his hair still damp and tousled. His clean shirt clung to his broad chest, and his thick thighs filled out his joggers in a way that made your heart race.

“Hey, babe,” he greeted, his voice smooth and relaxed, his drawl slipping through as he set down his bag. That accent of his made your knees like jelly, especially today. His easy smile made you melt on the spot as his gaze landed on you, sitting on the couch but clearly eager. You tried to play it cool, but the way your body practically buzzed with anticipation sold you out.

“What’s goin’ on with you?” Ben laughed softly, resting his hands on his hips.

You bit your lip, fighting the giddy smile threatening to break free. “Nothing...” you muttered trying to be coy, glancing at him through your lashes. “Just missed you.”

Ben’s laugh was warm, amused. “Oh, I can tell,” he teased, moving toward you and sitting beside you on the sofa. His arm stretched across the back of the couch, casually but with enough presence to make your heart skip. “You’re lookin’ at me like I’ve been gone for weeks.”

Your face flushed. It had only been hours, but it felt like weeks with how desperate you were for him. “I couldn’t focus all day, Ben” you confessed, voice barely above a whisper. You leaned into him, inhaling the fresh scent of his shower, biting your lip “Kept thinking about you.”

His smirk widened as his eyes danced with amusement. “Yeah? What exactly were you thinkin’ ‘bout?”

Your gaze dropped to his body, tracing the outline of his strong thighs, his solid chest, his muscular arms resting lazily around you. You swallowed, heat rising in your cheeks as you met his eyes again, and the teasing glint in them made your stomach twist in anticipation.

“You’re somethin’ else,” he said, shaking his head with a grin. He knew exactly what you were getting at. “Come here, baby”.

The second the words left his mouth, you moved. Eagerly, you climbed onto his lap, straddling him without hesitation. His hands gripped your hips, firm but gentle, guiding you closer as you settled on top of him, your heart pounding against your chest.

“There we go, feel better, babe?” Ben murmured, his voice low and teasing, eyes gleaming with tenderness. He leaned back, relaxing into the cushions as his hands slid up your sides, pulling you flush against him.

Your pulse raced, all the tension you’d carried throughout the day melting away in the warmth of his embrace. His thigh was solid beneath you, grounding you, and when his lips brushed yours in a soft, teasing kiss, you felt like you could finally breathe again.

“You missed me this bad, huh?” he teased, voice rough with amusement as his lips hovered just over yours.

“More than you know,” you breathed, kissing him again, deeper this time, your fingers threading through his damp hair as his grip on your hips tightened and you let out a moan.

Ben chuckled against your lips, the sound vibrating through your body. “Damn, maybe I should go to practice more often if this is how I’m welcomed home,” he teased, kissing you slowly, savouring the moment.

You laughed softly against his mouth, pulling back just enough to look at him. “God, please don’t,” you whispered, pressing your forehead to his. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. You have been driving me crazy.”

He smiled, his hands squeezing your hips as his eyes darkened with affection and desire. “How ‘bout you show me how much you missed me, then?”. He was tugging on his sweatpants with that voice where it dropped to that low, intimate tone that always made your stomach flutter. You pulled his sweatpants down which he kicked off before he slipped his hands through the waistband of your pj shorts, yanking those down, leaving you in your panties. You set yourself back down on him, your hips bucked, your needy motions getting Ben aroused. He smirked as he watched you roll against him.

Your fingers trailed over his chest before gripping the hem of his shirt. With a swift motion, you pulled it over his head, revealing his built torso. Your hands explored his skin, tracing every curve and contour with your nails. He shuddered under your touch, his breathing growing heavier. The sight of him aroused as you worked yourself to an orgasm was heavenly. His boxers grew tighter, his breathing more laboured and all you were doing was grinding on his lap.

Leaning forward, you pressed your lips to his neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses and hickeys along his jawline. You suckled and gnawed, trailing your teeth over him, making Ben throw his head back in a groan. His hands found your hips, gripping tightly as he guided your movements down hard against him. The friction was intoxicating, sending waves of pleasure through your body. You both found a rhythm as Ben moved up into you, bucking his leg up and moving it in a delicious, teasing way.

You felt his fingers slip under the fabric of your shirt, caressing the small of your back. The heat of his touch ignited your skin, leaving you craving more. With a soft moan, you captured his lips in a passionate kiss, tongues dancing as the intensity between you built to a fever pitch. Ben's hands glided up your back as he ran a tongue on your bottom lip, pushing forward into your mouth. He breaks the kiss to pull his t-shirt off of you, and the cool air hits your skin, causing goosebumps to rise. His eyes raked over your exposed flesh, a low growl escaping his throat.

"God, you're so beautiful," he murmured, voice husky with desire.

You felt a blush creep across your cheeks at his words. Even after all this time, he still had the power to make you feel like the only woman in the world. His lips found yours again, more urgent, more hungry this time. You melted into the kiss, letting yourself get lost in the sensation. Your hands roamed his body, fingernails lightly scraping down the back of his shoulders. Ben shivered in response, breaking the kiss to trail his mouth down your neck. You could feel your climax coming, the feeling of him roaming you all over sending you into overdrive.

“That’s it, keep goin’ baby, cum on me” he murmured against your skin, planting wet kisses. Ben lavished attention on your collarbone, alternating between gentle kisses and playful nips as his hands played with your breasts. As your hips moved with a mind of their own, Ben held you tightly, his hands steadying you as you rode out the waves of pleasure, watching you throw your head back and let waves of moans leave your mouth.

His eyes never left your face as he smiled watching you come down from your high. You rest your head in the crook of his neck, your heart pounding and your breathing laboured. You could feel your core twitch and thrum against him, ready for more as you left a pool on his leg. You hear Ben chuckle and rub your back softly.

“What a pretty mess you've made,” he said, his voice soft and warm, “guess it’s a good thing we’ve got the whole evenin’ together”.

You couldn’t help but smile, your heart racing as you looked up at him, pressing his lips to yours once more. The kiss deepened, slow but intense, the kind that made you feel like everything outside this moment had disappeared. His hands slid up to cup your face, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek as the tension you’d felt all day finally unravelled. You melted into him, letting yourself get lost in the warmth of his embrace.

The TV in the background played a forgotten Netflix show, but neither of you cared. All you wanted was right here, him, his arms around you, and the undeniable pull between you that made it feel like nothing else mattered.

[melancholicstation]

I DON'T NEED YOU BUT I MISS YOU, COME HERE! - a john f. kennedy jr. one-shot

day 2 of melancholicstation! summary: After exchanging gifts with your boyfriend you both reach a haunting revelation. After a serious of miscommunications between the two of you in which the both of you thought the other had bought the round of gifts this year, you and John are forced to venture into the city on christmas eve in the search of a christmas present for your boyfriends mother. What could be more hellish than that? though your handsome boyfriend makes it more than tolerable...

taglist: @carly-rae-jean @h-l-vlovesvintage @inocennture @monturi @hisamericanmuse @passhun4w-blog @vile-harlot @bluelancergirl @jackiesgirl @fortheloveofjos @itgirlvirgo @starsprangledgirl @malkavared @remotewatch @salvatoresablondie @kimcrystal123 @vampyiricris @scaredlamb @dulcegal @strryhaze

warnings: nothing, just good all clean christmas eve fun...

words: 1,210

Light pitter-pattering of rain falls softly against wrought iron fire escape, a soft aroma of powder and flushed-skin spices laid a slight film upon the furnishings of your New York apartment which was a mix of strewn silk stockings, rugs and tapestries, and because it was Christmas: two delicately placed patchwork stockings made from dead stock fabric across an elegant carved walnut chimneypiece and an antique Christmas collage you'd scored in an auction down in the Cape.

But none of it, in all its curated charm, could compare to the beautiful boy who laid his head in the space of your lap. John's eyes closed resembled those in renaissance paintings when scrutinised too close, and was accompanied by a set of an annoyingly long lashes mirroring the color of ink that's been spilt from a fountain pen.

In all his dreary-faced glory: all tuckered out after a tranquil evening of dining on a mismatched array of foods completely incongruent with the present season such as 2 packs of lemon club sodas, a squash & burrata pizza, and a half picked at banana coconut muffin to share: foods that may or may not have been stolen from your head chef's storage pantry. In your defence the food would've had to go in the trash anyway... If you really thought about it you did them a favour in taking the food!

In service of both you and John's shared distain for the Christmas craze and chaoticness you'd both decided to give each other your presents on Christmas Eve instead of on the big day.

The very presents in question were as follows: John got you a beautiful perfume along with a first edition, signed 'Journals of Anaïs Nin hardcover.

In your case, you got John a limited edition cologne with the tagline "Wear En Plein Air if you want to smell like an unassuming art critic on his way to an orgy." Classy. To go along with the scent you got him this years Art Press magazine issue, lately he'd been talking a lot about possibly creating a magazine: you thought it was a terrific idea but he wasn't so sure it would land.

The gift-giving hour had long passed and before you knew it the both of you had ended up splayed out on top of each other on your bed: an early twentieth century opium bed with a pierced lattice panels. A statement piece in your bedroom that you were very proud of winning in an especially hard auction at Christie's Rockefeller plaza location.

The snacking continued from the floor of the kitchen to the bed, where John began shovelling crumbs of a coconut muffin with reckless abandon: defiling your freshly put-on winter goose-down duvet.

"C'mon John you know I just got this cleaned. You watched me buy it like last week!" you say jokingly, yet your movements betray otherwise: frantically moving the palm of your hands over the duvet trying to brush away the crumbs onto the hardwood floors—an almost unbelievable score for an apartment in the city.

"Baby you're way too tense, let the holiday cheer wash over you!" he says sarcastically with that kind of eat-shit grin he nearly always dons.

"Well i've decided to reject that holiday cheer, I'm too stressed out having to figure out your families fucked up dynamics on top of trying not to piss of your sister—making her hate me more than she already does"

Wiping away the coconut flakes from your chin with his fingers, to which he proceeds to place those same fingers in his mouth, making an almost comically suggestive motion: to which you giggle alongside him.

It's interesting how you can almost see the cogs turn in his mind—it's funny how the longer you get to know him you can almost predicate the exact moment a thought enters his head "Speaking of, I forgot to ask you what you got for my mother for when we go down to the cape tomorrow?"

"Wait I thought you were handling the presents for your family this year. I-I mean she is your mom after all John"

It's at this moment that you immediately understand that he did not have the Christmas presents handled in the slightest.

Oh, fuck.

So that is what transpired to have the two of you traipsing around New York City at a blistering 7 pm on Christmas Eve like total and utter idiots.

After the utter shock of not having organised a Christmas present the night before Christmas set in you both scrambled into action changing out of clothes you called "house clothes" into respectable "outdoor clothes".

You chose a practical uniform for the blistering cold raging outside: a slim-fit pair of indigo blue jeans, a silk porcelain turtleneck for layering purposes, and a camel cashmere belted overcoat.

The reason why you'd regard John as a man touched by a certain oddness, said with love of course, is no better exemplified than his chosen outfit for the blistering cold: a patterned cashmere and silk crewneck paired with some old gym shorts and a pair of uggs atop long cotton socks reaching his mid calf. Now, you wouldn't position yourself as a fashion icon but you won't pretend you didn't second guess his choice of fashion, though you did relent when you saw the bashful smile fixing its attention upon your being.

Initially you were mad at one another for dropping the ball on finding gifts but fighting never lasted all that long with you two now did it?

Now, with that being said: Bergdorf's at 7:31 pm on Christmas Eve was certainly the undiscovered 8th circle of hell that Dante's Inferno conveniently left out. You and John had been circling the aisles for about thirty minutes and still: Nothing. As you traipsed the aisles for what seemed to be no short of a few miles all you found were picked over shelves with cheesy Christmas sweaters made out of polyester and acrylic, and small cheese platters in tiny wicker trays.

And if you gathered anything from the few times you've met your boyfriend's mother: Jacqueline Kennedy, is that she has immaculate taste. And known for having a severe emotional intolerance for synthetic fibres and cheap butter.

So safe to say both products left would absolutely not suffice or bode well with her.

By 7:51 pm you're both defeated but as if an angel sent from the gods themselves decided to take pity on you John spots and item: beckoning you over holding his hand out. The item comes into your view: a 18" silver amphora vase detailed with dragon head handles—a little ornate for your taste but from the look on John's face the vase is a winner.

Delighted to be able to get out of this place you both move to the register, slightly surprised that there's not an outrageously long line before you. You're both quiet for a few minutes while waiting, you're broken out of that silence when you feel John's hand pick up yours and bring it to his lips: kissing each of your fingers wrapped in his hand individually.

Okay, maybe Bergdorf's at 7pm wasn't exactly as bad as Dante's inferno but safe to say you will be getting everyone gifts in November next year to avoid this very situation in the future.

i feel like this is my worst one-shot to date (and it hasn't been edited) but I hope u enjoy regardless p.s all the furniture written about was just an excuse to basically show you my christie's wish list items bisous!!!!!!

[sweetheartsaku]

༄ MISSION: OUR SUMMER― tongue tied

𝜗𝜚 ―C.BEOMGYU 【범규】 VERSION || NIGHT EDITION.

HERE GOES ANOTHER SLEEPLESS SUMMER NIGHT. the suns all out there, making the concrete scorching. stepping outside was like a new generation of sahara, going out barefoot meant the concrete would mistake you for a sausage on a sizzle.

you and beomgyu had been laying on the ground for who knows how long. pinkies intertwined as the only source of affection and physical contact. as of being a fan of the floor, the smooth wooden planks on your bare neck felt like heaven.

"we might as well do an ice mukbang." he says, chewing on his ice-cube as he stares up at the ceiling fan, swivelling in all its glory.

"the fact this is only morning. imagine tonight, trying to sleep."

"THAT'S IT!!! i'm becoming nocturnal." he pouts.

not being able to stand this state for any longer, you suggest "why don't we just- do something fun?" you take a stand, motivated, putting your fists on your hips. you huff your cheeks, extending a confident hand to beomgyu.

before he could grab it you quickly take your hand away. maybe just being a teensy bit of tease. you giggle, and he gets up, playfully bantering with you...

he finally secures you against the kitchen counter, leaning in close. the damp atmosphere make you lose your mind, let alone with the proximity. he presses his slightly dewy forehead on yours, noses touching, lips grazing. he props his hand under your jaw, before pulling you in for a gentle peck on the corner of your lips.

"that's what you get for being a tease, so i'm going to do the same to you.

you find yourself propped up against a pillow, underneath a blanket protecting your bottom from the blistering metal of the balcony floor. you and beomgyu had set up an outside fort, fan on the strongest setting creating a cool atmosphere under your thin bedsheets you had used to roof you from the sun. minimal pillows were uses for optimal space, a small coffee table set up with homemade fizzy drinks in fun colours, truckloads of ice, topped with cute unevenly slices of fruit.

a sweet date on the sunny balcony of the 12th floor of your shared apartment, cool breeze occasionally brushing your hair into your face. your lover sweeps your hair behind your ear, before staring into your eyes as if you strung all the stars together.

you both share your sweet beverages, ranging from all the different combinations and flavours you had concocted back in the kitchen. ones in teal with a cherry slice, a honey lemon drink with orange zest. whatever you both could come up with.

you had both shared a straw, in blue stripes and slightly bit by beomgyu. you had been doing this ever since you were friends, a sweet and loving gesture that goes by effortlessly. he was a part time lover and full-time friend. there is nothing you could ask for more from this boy, the one you've known since kindergarten. he'll always be the boy who asked you to name his rock, the boy who'd play songs for you in his dad's garage, the boy who would pat your back and wipe your tears, the boy who stole your first kiss.

the bustle of the morning slowly dies down as everybody settles from work, birds begin to chirp, leaves begin to trickle, and the noise of the world becomes a comforting melody. kids are playing at the nearby park, cars interacting still sound.

the sun slowly sets, the horizon line seamless. the clouds in front of it reflect an outline of the sun behind, the warm hues intertwining. the sun shines its rays into the small opening on your bedsheets, illuminating all your features.

i don't need the sun. you're enough.

TAGLIST: @hyukassubi @lun4kazumii

[vodika-vibes]

Every Time We Touch

Summary: Your relationship with Crosshair and Tech, before Order 66 and after.

Pairing: TBB Crosshair x Jedi F!Reader x TBB Tech

Word Count: 4987

Warnings: Smut. Oral (male and female receiving). Some Dom/Sub dymanics.

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: This has been a labor of love that took me, in total, almost 16 hours to write. The first part is smut, the second part was going to be smut but I decided it didn't make sense with everything that happened. It has not been edited aside from a very rough spellcheck. Happy reading~

It’s easy, losing yourself in the ebbs and flows of the force. Especially here, on a planet largely untouched by the war.

The Marauder landed here three days ago, with the plan being that you’d move on as soon as you got a new set of orders. Only, those orders still haven’t come.

And, as much as Hunter might hate it, you decided that you needed to get off the ship, even for a little while. It’s not as if they’re going to leave without you, after all.

So here you are, sitting next to a stunning little pond with a waterfall roaring in your ears, meditating. Or, well, you’re supposed to be meditating, but really, you’re considering whether or not you’d like to go swimming.

You absently tap your fingers against your knee, before coming to a decision. It’s not like anyone is going to bother you, not at this time of night. So you unfold from your sitting position and quickly tug your clothes off.

You set them neatly on a rock, with your lightsaber and comm perched on top of the clothes, and step into the cool water. You wade out until you’re waist deep and then you dive into the water.

This is exactly what you needed, the water feels amazing against your skin, and with the moon high in the sky, it almost feels like something from a fairy tale. You know, if fairy tales generally involved skinny dipping.

You’re pulled from your thoughts at the sound of a low chuckle from the shore, and you smile when you see a familiar figure standing next to the rock holding all of your clothes. 

Crosshair lightly plucks your panties from the pile on the rock and dangles them from one long finger, before his sharp gaze finds you in the water. “Funny,” He practically purrs, “I didn’t know that there were mermaids on this planet.”

You laugh softly and swim closer to shore, until you’re able to stand on your toes, “What brings you out here, Cross?”

He absently folds your clothes and stacks them a little neater than you did, “You, of course. You weren’t in bed.”

“I needed a moment off the ship. Hunter’s practically radiating anxiety.” You answer with a shrug.

“Well, I can just about guarantee that if he knew you were swimming, naked, in a lake he’d probably have a heart attack on the spot.”

“Um…well…he doesn’t need to know?” You offer sheepishly.

“Oh definitely.” Crosshair agrees, as he peels his shirt off and sets it on the rock next to yours, “Especially since I’m joining you.”

You laugh, “Are you?”

“What? You think you’re the only one who needs a break?” Crosshair finishes stripping off his blacks, and sets them on the rock. He pauses and then sighs and grabs his comm, shooting a quick message.

You tilt your head in question.

“You’ll get pouty if Tech doesn’t join us.” He explains as he steps into the water and walks out to you. The moment he’s close enough, he pulls you into his arms, and bumps his forehead against yours.

“I do not pout,” You reply as you slide your arms around his neck.

Crosshair urges you to hook your legs around his waist, which, really, you would do anyway. “You pout.” He teases, “It’s adorable.”

You press yourself against him, “Yeah…well…cite your sources.” 

“Do I look like Tech to you?” He asks with a grin, “I’m not citing anything. You’ll just have to take me at my word.”

You release a huff of laughter, and bump your nose against his, “Thank you for inviting Tech, Crosshair. It means a lot to me.”

Something soft slides across his face, and his hand comes up to brush against your cheek, “Well, you said so yourself, the only way this works for us is if we’re in it together.”

“I can’t believe you were listening to me when I said that.” You admit.

“I have a very vested interest in making sure that you stay happy, kitten.” He replies, “And if you’re happy with me and Tech, then who am I to argue.”

“And you, Cross? Are you happy?”

“Happier than I ever thought possible,” He confirms as he tilts his head to catch your lips with his own. 

You lean into the kiss, your hands trailing up to slide through his hair, a soft moan slips from your lips, swallowed by Crosshair, as he nips your lower lip and then trails his tongue across the sore spot to soothe away the pain. 

Heavy footsteps on the shore forces him to break the kiss, pulling a whine from you as you try to follow him. Crosshair chuckles and squeezes your hip, before he glances towards the shore, “D’you have to be so loud, Tech?” He asks.

Tech peers at the pair of you, “Yes. I did not want Crosshair to shoot me.”

“As if I would.” Crosshair mutters with a roll of his eyes.

You giggle and nuzzle your nose against his neck, “Will you be joining us, Tech?”

He glances at you, and then the water, and then back at you. “I have a better idea, you both should come to shore.” Tech quickly starts tugging his own blacks off, tossing them carelessly to the side.

Crosshair exhales sharply, and you giggle. “Let it be, Cross.”

“Annoying, everything else is folded-”

You giggle again and pull him into a deep kiss, your tongue sliding across his lips and then past his lips. You map out his mouth, as though it’s the first time, and he releases a quiet groan, his strong hand tightly gripping your ass to grind you against his half hard cock.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” He breathes against your lips. “Believe it or not, I didn’t actually come out here to fuck you.”

You grin against his lips, “Oh? What a pity. Maybe Tech will be interested-” You squeak as he pinches your ass.

“Well, my plans have clearly changed, imp.” He carries you towards the shore, and only sets you on your feet once the both of you are clear of the water. 

Tech’s eyes drag down your bare body, lingering on your breasts for a moment, before he steps into your space to catch your lips in a deep kiss.

Tech kisses you like he’s trying to learn everything about you. Like kissing you will answer any and all of the questions he has about you. 

Crosshair, on the other hand, kisses you like he’s trying to take everything that makes you you and replace it with himself.

You love both kisses, almost as much as you love both men. 

When Tech breaks the kiss, you’re a little breathless, “I’m guessing you have a plan?” You ask.

“I always do,” Tech replies with a small smile, he trails his finger down your cheek, and then across your lips, “You have such a clever mouth, cyare. I want your lips wrapped around my cock.”

Your face heats, and you press your hands against your cheeks, “You can’t just say it like that, Tech.”

Crosshair coos in your ear, “Embarrassed, kitten?” He turns his gaze to his brother, “I assume you have no issues with me fucking her while you’re fucking her face.”

“I am hardly going to be fucking her face,” Tech counters blandly, and then he pauses, “Well, I did not have the intention to.”

“Not an answer, vod.”

“Oh, yes. Do what you like.”

“Well, that was never in question.” Crosshair slides his hands down your sides, “On your knees, kitten.”

You shiver under his touch, especially when his hand slides from your side to dip between your thighs. His finger just barely brushing over your clit.

You release a breathy little moan and Crosshair chuckles and kisses your jaw, before pulling his hand away from you and licking his fingers clean.

“Actually, I had a better idea than her on her knees,” Tech says thoughtfully, and once he's sure he has all of the attention, he smiles. “You on your back, Crosshair, with our cyare riding you.”

Crosshair's fingers pause on your hip, and he glances at you, “You mean I get to feel her all around me and watch her tits?” He asks with a sly smile.

You release a strangled noise and thump your forehead to Tech’s shoulder, “Why?” You ask as your face burns.

Even after all this time, you still get flustered and embarrassed when your boys talk like that.

Which is exactly why they do it, and all of you know it.

“Because you are just too cute when you are ten kinds of flustered, cyare.” Tech kisses the top of your head, and then glances at his brother, “I would suggest spreading her robe across the ground.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Crosshair drops one last kiss to your shoulder, “That was the plan.” He walks over to the piles of clothes, kicks Tech’s stuff out of the way with an annoyed grumble, and then carefully pulls your robe from the bottom of your stack of clothes.

You watch as Crosshair spreads your robes out on the sand, and then lays down on his back. And then you’re distracted as Tech takes one of your hands and wraps it loosely around his half-hard cock.

“I know my brother is pretty, cyare,” Tech teases as he trails light kisses across your cheek, “But I would like your attention too.”

You give him a few light strokes, feeling him harden under your touch, and you’re not surprised when he shoots you a slightly frustrated look. “Cyar’ika, why are you being so gentle?”

A small, almost angelic, smile spreads across your lips, “I have no idea what you mean.”

He peers at you for a moment, and then releases a soft sigh, “You have decided to be a brat tonight then?”

“I have never done anything wrong in my life-”

His hand lands, firmly, on your ass and your sentence breaks off with a startled yelp. 

“If I did not already have plans, cyar’ika, I would make this punishment much more enjoyable.” You shiver at his tone of voice, and he presses a light kiss to your forehead, as he massages the sore spot on your ass, “Perhaps later tonight.”

You watch as his gaze flickers past you, and then he locks his gaze with yours again. His rough, calloused hands settle on your hips and he lifts you just enough that he’s able to move you to stand next to where Crosshair is laying.

“How would you like her positioned, vod?” Tech asks lightly, as though he’s commenting on the weather and not manhandling your naked body.

Crosshair’s gaze drags across your body for a moment, and then he smirks, “I was going to say that I want to stuff her full with my cock, but I changed my mind.”

“Oh?”

“I want her to sit on my face.”

“Oh, but-” Two pairs of eyes lock on your face, and you duck your head, “I don’t want to hurt you-”

Crosshair laughs, “I don’t know if you remember this, kitten. But I’m a decently strong guy. You can only hurt me if you try.” With Tech’s help, the two men lower you so that you’re hovering just over his face.

“Are you sure-” You yelp when Crosshair roughly pulls you down so that your pussy is settled over his mouth. His tongue immediately darts out to drag along your folds, and your yelp turns into a moan of pleasure.

“There we go,” Tech murmurs, “No need for such anxiety, cyare.” He moves so that he’s standing next to you and he rests his hand on your head, smoothing your hair for a moment, “Open up for me, darling.”

You part your lips for him, obediently, and he presses the head of his cock against your lips.

“You remember what to do if you need a break?” Tech asks, and his gaze softens when you tap his thigh twice in quick succession, “Good girl.”

And then he pushes the head of his cock past your lips, and lets you do whatever you want.

The dual sensations of Crosshair alternating between flicking your clit with his tongue, shoving his tongue as deep inside you as he can, and sucking on your clit, combined with the feel of Tech, heavy in your mouth, and the taste of his precum on your tongue, is almost too much.

Almost.

But you’ve been in a relationship with them for a while now, and you’re not a blushing virgin anymore. You’ve had a lot of practice using your mouth on both of them, and you have a few tricks to push them over the edge quickly.

For Tech, all you have to do is trail your fingers over his balls while hollowing your cheeks and sucking hard.

Which is exactly what you do, pulling a hoarse groan from his lips, “Kriff, should have tied you up.” He gasps as his hand fists in your hair, and he starts lightly directing you how to move by moving your head for you.

Crosshair closes his lips around your clit and sucks hard as he eases two of his fingers into you and curls them, pressing them right against that spot inside you that makes you see stars.

Your hips, which had been rocking against his face, using his mouth for your pleasure, stutter as you teeter on the edge of your orgasm. You just need a little bit more, but you aren’t able to vocalize it.

Luckily, Crosshair knows you as well as you know him, and one of his fingers slides across your folds, and then further back to circle the tight ring of muscles of your asshole. 

And you shatter with an almost broken moan, your vision dimming as you plummet over the edge. 

Tech pulls himself from your mouth and Crosshair quickly lifts you and moves you down his body, quite happily pulling you down on his solid cock until he’s completely bottomed out.

“There you go, kitten.” Crosshair mumbles as he wipes his lips with the back of his hand, before he slides his hands to caress your breasts, “Move for me, sweetheart.”

“You need to open your mouth again, cyare.” Tech whispers, a proud smile crossing his face as you mindlessly obey him, “Good girl. Such a good girl.”

He’s just about to slide his cock past your lips again, and Crosshair is just about to start thrust up into you, when all three of you are distracted by heavy footsteps.

“Crosshair? Tech?” Hunter’s voice echoes from the forest, and then there’s an explosive sigh, “I’m not going to come any closer because I do not need to see what I can smell.” He sounds deeply grieved.

“Go away, Hunter.” Crosshair snaps as he pinches your nipples and pulls a soft moan from your lips. “We’re busy.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” Hunter calls back, “We have new orders.”

There’s absolute silence for a moment.

“If I have to come over there and get you-” Hunter threatens.

“We will return to the ship shortly.” Tech calls, “We need…an hour?”

Crosshair searching your face for a moment, “Not even. 30 minutes, to give her time to recover.”

“An hour would be preferable.” Tech argues.

“Five hours would be preferable, but orders are orders.” Crosshair counters. He sits up and caresses your cheek, “I’m afraid we’re not going to get to play like we wanted to, kitten.”

“S’okay.” You whisper to him, though you are careful to make sure that Tech can hear you too.

Tech settles back, “We need thirty minutes, Hunter.” He calls.

“Fine, but if you’re not back in thirty-” He leaves the threat hanging, and then he stomps away.

“You first, Crosshair.” Tech says quietly, something quietly wistful on his face, “I will have my turn when you finish. We will just have to play properly later.”

You lean your forehead against Crosshair’s, your breathing heavy, as he thrusts up into you. 

“Deal.” Crosshair replies with a glance at his brother, before focusing his attention on you, a small smirk crossing his lips, “Ready kitten?”

“Always-” You gasp out in response.

The events of Beloved happen here

“I appreciate you doing this,” You say as you press the palm of your hand over your new, well, newish cybernetic eye. You’ve come to learn that entering and leaving the atmosphere makes the cybernetic feel very uncomfortable. 

“Ya don’t have ta thank me, kiddo.” The pilot, a Chiss man with bleached blonde hair, drawls as his hands fly over the console, “Yer…da and ya…Ah still owe ya more’n ya owe me.”

A small smile lifts your lips, “You owe me nothing, Cid.”

“Bah, in yer opinion.” He glances at you, “Yer eye botherin’ ya?”

“It’s not fond of pressure changes,” You admit, “I guess that removes deep sea diver from my list of future professions.” You cast your gaze out the front window, “So this is Pabu?”

“Yup, like a glimmerin’ gem.”

“Cid, I didn’t know you were a poet.”

He flashes you a roguish grin, “Ma lady loves it.”

Your smile widens slightly, though it fades when you turn your attention back to the planet.

6 months ago, the clones turned on you and your fellow Jedi. The majority of your brethren were wiped out before they even knew that they were in danger.

You had been in the temple, catching up on some school work that you missed out on due to the war.

It was a blessing, perhaps.

After all, if you had been on Kamino, you’d definitely be dead. Rather than just…

Your fingers glide down the smooth metal of your new prosthetic arm, a gift from Senator Riyo Chuchi, just like your new cybernetic eye. She even offered you shelter for the last six months, while you recovered from your injuries.

You’ll never be able to pay her back.

Still, she swears up and down that Pabu is a safe place, a good place for someone like you to vanish. And you need to vanish.

“A’right there, kiddo?”

“Yeah. Just…lost in thoughts.”

He reaches over and lightly grips your shoulder, though he doesn’t say anything as he focuses his attention on bringing the ship down to the landing pad.

He says nothing until the ship settles on the landing pad, and then he turns to look at you, his crimson eyes scanning your face. “Bein’ a Jedi taught ya how to survive. Taught ya how to adapt. Yer gonna be fine, kiddo. An’ if yer not…jus’ give ol Cid a holler.”

You stare at him for a moment, and then you smile at him, “Thank you, Cid. Really. It’s nice to know that the Jedi still have some friends in the galaxy.”

“More’n ya might believe.” He places both of his hands on your shoulders, and squeezes, “See ya around, kiddo.”

You nod once, and then slide out of the co-pilot’s seat to gather the one bag that you have from your life before, and you step off the ship and onto the landing pad to start your new life.

You move to the edge of the landing pad as Cid powers his ship back on and takes back to the sky, and then you turn to get your bearings. The island isn’t large, you can only imagine that everyone knows everyone.

Still, according to Riyo, this is a refugee planet, so maybe people don’t dig here.

You step off of the landing platform to follow the path towards the building that you can only guess is the welcoming center.

The woman at the desk, a Togruti woman, is very patient with you as she processes your citizenship. She doesn’t ask many questions, though she does eye your prosthetics and scars with a sympathetic smile.

“Welcome to Pabu,” She says quietly, “I hope you find peace here.” She presses a map into your hands, as well as written instructions to the nearest hotel.

Useful.

So you thank her, and then step out the main doors.

Pabu is a tropical island, which means hot. You’re immediately grateful that Cid suggested that you switch to a tank top and shorts rather than the longer clothes that you’ve taken to wearing since you lost your arm. 

It’s also humid. So humid. Humid enough that you’re sure that your hair is already getting frizzy.

You sigh and rub the back of your neck and pull your hair off your neck with a hair clip, and then you focus your attention on the written instructions in your hand.

“After leaving the welcoming center,” You mumble to yourself, “follow the sidewalk to the left until you reach the jewelry store, then turn right-” You look around and then you hoist your bag up on your shoulder and you start following the sidewalk.

“Jewelry store? Jewelry store…oh! Jewelry store.” The shop is, quite literally named, Jewelry Store. Handy. You glance at the note again, “Turn right, and follow the sidewalk until you reach the whale statue.”

You glance both ways, before you cross the street and you start walking.

You pause as a shop door flies open and a small girl with short blonde hair darts out into your path, running into your leg, “Ah! I’m sorry!” She blurts, as she looks up at you.

She has a very familiar face. A very, very familiar face.

“No harm done,” You reply, your voice slightly strangled.

The girl stares at you, and then beams, “Oh! You must be a new arrival! My name is Omega.”

Well, so much for your hope that she just looks like a clone.

You introduce yourself with a small smile, even as you carefully, very carefully, reach out through the force to try and determine if you’re in any danger. 

There are no warnings, and so you relax. Ever so slightly.

“Um…wait…” Omega reaches up and twists a strand of pale blonde hair between her fingers, and you jolt in surprise. It’s weird, seeing your habits on another person. You used to twist your padawan beads when you were trying to remember something, and when you were promoted, you took to rolling some of your hair between your fingers.

A habit that Hunter took up when you took command of Clone Force 99.

“I know your name…” the little girl murmurs. “Why do I know your name-?”

The door to the shop slides open again, “There you are, Omega. I was wondering where you ran off to.”

You turn your gaze to the veritable wall of muscle that just came out of the shop.

You’d recognize Wrecker anywhere. Even dressed down in civvies.

It’s funny, you thought you’d be nervous about running into any of your men. Especially after the temple. But you’re calm, peaceful even.

“There’s a new person, Wrecker. And her name sounds familiar-”

“Well, names are names Omega.” Wrecker replies, before he finally glances at you, “Welcome to Pab-” He stops mid-sentence. You see his gaze dart to your cybernetic eye, and then drop to the prosthetic arm, “...General?” Wrecker, who’s usually so loud and enthusiastic, sounds hushed and disbelieving. 

He sounds guilty.

And you can’t allow that.

So you flash the smallest smile, “Hey, Wreck.”

Wrecker drops his shopping bags into Omega’s arms, pulling a disgruntled noise from her lips, before he tugs you into a tight hug, “Thought you were dead.” He says against the top of your head, “Tech and Cross will be thrilled-”

You don’t move for a moment, and then you release a sigh and wrap your arms around him as well, “I got lucky,” You admit, not the least bit surprised when he doesn’t release you.

He finally pulls back, his hands warm on your shoulders, and his gaze darts across the scars covering your body. You can see the questions on his face, but he swallows them, with difficulty, and instead squeezes your shoulders, “You’re coming home with us.” Wrecker announces, “It's where you’re supposed to be.”

“If you insist.” And it’s as simple as that.

The house your boys share is located near the water. It’s a massive house, big enough that they all probably have their own rooms. That had to have come as a shock to them, seeing as they shared for most of their lives.

Wrecker leads you up the stairs, with Omega in the lead. The little girl isn’t sure what to make of you, not that you blame her. You have just as many questions about her as she probably has about you.

“So this is where we live.” Wrecker says as he leads you into the house, “It’s kinda big, but it’s nice too. We never had our own space before.”

There’s light footsteps coming from the kitchen area, “Who are you talking to, Wrecker?” Crosshair asks as he steps into the front hall, his gaze locked on his brother, before it drops to land on you.

Crosshair stops.

His sharp eyes lock on your arm, your eye, your scars.

And then he’s moving, shoving past Wrecker and stopping only a little bit in front of you. His hand, rough and calloused, gently grips your chin and he tilts your head back so he can see your eyes properly, “Oh, kitten.” He breathes out.

He doesn’t ask what happened. He doesn’t have to.

“Hi Cross.” You whisper.

He releases your chin and his fingers move to your prosthetic arm, to the scars that mar your once barely scarred body.

There’s more footsteps, and then Tech is there. His gaze finds you immediately, and he quickly moves to stand next to Crosshair, his eyes cataloging the array of healed injuries covering your body.

It doesn’t take much longer for Hunter and Echo to join the crowd in the hallway, with Omega watching everyone with confusion on her face.

It’s a confusion you understand, though you’re sure that your confusion isn’t at all similar to hers.

Slowly you set your bag on the ground and you hold up a single hand, “Boys.” You don’t raise your voice. You don’t have to. All five of them immediately fall silent when you speak.

You don’t understand.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath before you open them again, “I’ve had the…most awful of times.” You say, quietly. “I would, very much, like to know what crime my people committed to deserve to be executed in our own home.”

The faces around you change. Delight morphs into something stricken. “You…don’t know?” Hunter asks.

You glance at him, “Tell me.”

Hunter takes a deep breath, “Yes ma’am.”

One very, very long conversation later and you finally understand. The knowledge that the men hadn’t turned on the Jedi willingly, that they were forced to do it, eased a hurt that had been festering in your heart.

Though now your heart hurts for the men who are little more than slaves to the Empire.

But that was earlier. Now you’re sitting on Crosshair’s bed, your back pressed against the headboard while he makes room for your stuff in his closet. Tech is messing with something at Crosshair’s desk, and they’re both completely silent.

Crosshair, you know, will wait for you to say something. He’s incredibly patient like that.

You suspect that Tech is going to break first.

And you're right, as only moments after you have that thought, Tech pushes the chair back and moves to the bed to sit next to you. There’s probably a million questions running through his mind, but you can wait for him to settle on one.

But he surprises you. 

He doesn’t ask anything, instead his hand moves to a large scar on your shoulder. There’s something pained and guilty on his face. 

You reach out and press your hand against his cheek, “It’s not your fault.” You whisper, “Either of you.”

Crosshair drops a jacket to the ground and joins you on the bed, his strong arms slide around your waist and he drops a feather light kiss to your throat, “We should have been there.”

“We thought you were dead.” Tech adds, sounding so deeply pained that your heart lurches.

“I’m sorry,” You comb your fingers through Tech’s hair, and he sighs as he presses his forehead against your other shoulder. 

“You don’t have to apologize,” Crosshair says roughly, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

You shift and lay your cheek against the top of his head, and his arms tighten around you. 

“It’s funny,” Crosshair murmurs against your skin, “I genuinely thought that the only thing I would want when I had you back in my arms is to make you fall apart for me. But now that you’re here, all I want is to hold you.”

You laugh softly, “I love you too, Cross.” You say as you press a light kiss to the top of his head.

Tech presses himself firmly against your other side, “When things get back to normal,” He murmurs, “I would like to give you a full examination, so that I can see how your prosthetics and cybernetics work. So I can keep you healthy.”

“Of course.”

“No one is ever going to hurt you again, cyare.” Tech promises.

“That’s not your job, Tech. But thank you all the same.” You whisper as you press a kiss to the top of his head as well.

And then you squeak as you’re tugged down the bed so your head is resting on one of Crosshair’s pillows. His face is pressed against your neck, and his legs are tangled with yours. Tech rests his head on your shoulder, his fingers threading with yours. 

For the first time in months, you feel safe.

And slowly you drift off to sleep. Sure that this was part of their plan.

Your boys always did know you better than anyone.

[flutteringphalanges]

Aydith

Adam Warlock x Star Lord’s Sister/Reader

Summary: Adam and reader have a baby.

//I started working on one where the reader actually gave birth but put that on hold because I wasn’t sure if I should finish it. I may make this a series because I kinda want to explore dad!Adam more and uncle!Peter and the rest of a the Guardians as aunts and uncles. If people are interested. Anyway hope you guys enjoy! (next time I think I will do present POV and not past, but whatever lol!) EDIT: This is now a series. Here is a LINK to the master-post with links to all of the one shots.

                                             Aydith

You and your older brother, Peter, had practically grown up with Yondu and the Ravengers. Seen things, some being terrible at that. Found a new family with the Guardians. Experienced battles. War. The destruction of whole societies. Planets. But any of those old fears were nothing compared to what you were experiencing now. The heavy, nervous thumps in your heart as you stared down at the tiny being in your arms. Thumps that were equally as terrifying as this strange new feeling of overwhelming, unbridled love. 

Her skin was a brilliant shade of gold--something she had inherited from her father. What little hair she had was more so copper, but that could easily change with time. Even through her golden skin, the rosiness of her cheeks blushed like petals. And her eyes…for the past nine months you had been anticipating they would be his. But the very first time she opened them, they were the most intense shade of_____. Just like yours. She was beautiful. Far, far beyond that. She was yours. Both of yours.

“She’s so small.” Adam’s voice cut through the silence. “Is that…is she okay?”

You glanced over at him from where he sat on the edge of your bed. Everything had been a blur up until this moment. The birth had not been an easy one. A lot had happened. It was certainly unexpected. And the chance that something horrible could have come from it all was a fate no one wanted to think about. But you were safe, and more importantly she was, so in the end that was all that mattered.

“Yeah.” You assured him, watching intently as he gingerly touched one of her clenched fists. “She’s perfect, isn’t she?”

“More than anything in the entire realm of galaxies.” Adam agreed with a small smile, clearly mesmerized. “And she’s ours.”

“Yeah.” You breathed, looking at her. “She is.” Silence fell between you for a brief moment before a thought suddenly came to your mind. “Do you want to hold her?”

Adam blinked, looking at you in almost comical surprise. “I can hold her?”

It takes everything within you to keep from bursting into a fit of laughter. Being exhausted and sore helped with that. “Of course, she is your kid after all.”

“What if I…” He hesitated, glancing from you to the baby. “What if something…”

“You won’t hurt her.” You promised, wincing a little as you lean forward to place her in his arms. “They aren’t as delicate as they look. Or, at least someone told me that…”

Adam took her gently, going rigid when she let a little noise. Slowly, you watch as his posture relaxes. The way he gazed at her, watching with such intent and adoration. You never thought you could love him more until now. You couldn’t help but question what you had done to deserve them both.

“I…I thought I was going to lose you, Y/N.” Adam said quietly, finally meeting your stare once more. “Back on the ship. I really thought…” And the way his eyes have begun to water causes a swell of emotion to find you. “All of us really, and if something had…your brother would’ve never forgiven me.”

“Hey, I’m okay.” You said softly. “Both of us are.” You paused, before adding. “It’s going to take a hell of a lot more to get rid of me. We Quills are pretty resilient.”

Adam chuckled softly, stroking the top of the infant’s hand. “As I have witnessed.”

“You know, she kinda needs a name.” You reached over, lightly brushing your fingertips against the top of her head. “Any suggestions?”

He hummed thoughtfully, adjusting your daughter in his arms. “My mother’s name was Ayesha.” Adam began to talk faster as if he thought you’d interject. You wouldn’t. “I know she committed horrible acts and was not the greatest of all beings, but…she was wonderful to me and I loved her. I…can understand if you are against it, however.”

“It’s a pretty name.” You told him, giving him a smile. “My mother’s name was Meredith. I didn’t get to know her, she died when I was really young. But Peter talks about her, a lot more than he used to.”

“Meredith…” He mused, studying the baby’s face. “That is also a nice name.”

You took a moment to consider the two. One could easily be the first and the second a middle. The problem would be, in that case, which one you would call her. Suddenly an idea comes to mind, one that you hope didn’t sound too ridiculous.

“What about Aydith?”

Adam looked at you with a brow raised. “Aydith?”

“A combination of the two.” You explained, shrugging your shoulders. “We could honor them both…It doesn’t sound too funny does it?”

You watched as he glanced down at the baby, remaining silent for a moment. “Aydith…” He said slowly, as if testing out the name. “I like it. Aydith is a good name.”

You smiled softly, peering down into her little face as Adam leaned over.

“Hello, Aydith.” You whispered gently. “Welcome to the universe.”

[stellar-skyy]

ADORNED NIGHT — Platonic Kazuha, Tomo & reader.

i. SUMMARY: You had two childhood friends; Kazuha and Tomo. Now, it's just you. ii. CONTENT WARNINGS: Inazuma Archon quest spoilers, character death, grief. iii. NOTES: Platonic, angst, childhood friends!Kazuha and Tomo, gn!reader, 1.5k words. iv. A/N: This is one of the first things I've written and has been sitting completed in my drafts for SO LONG because I didn't like how it turned out, but I can't keep re-editing it. Enjoy!

It’s easy making friends when you’re a kid. Your parents are close to other parents, and you eventually get shoved towards their kids to give you something to do. For you, that came in the form of Kaedehara Kazuha.

He was a quiet child. The kind who would cry when flowers got trampled, or bugs skittered away from his hands. But he was an easy, comfortable presence, and one that found its place by your side.

It was inevitable that you made friends with Tomo after that, with him and Kazuha practically attached at the hip, and it didn’t take long for him to declare you both his best friends.

Whether it be playing adventures in the forest, hide-and-seek around Kazuha’s estate, or just wandering the city of Inazuma, the three of you were scarcely seen without one or both others by your sides.

And you couldn’t be happier.

“Kazu, come on!” You called out after the boy trailing behind.

“Just give me… a minute,” Kazuha murmured. He continued to crouch on the edge of the river, poking at the ground with a stick.

“Are you still frog-hunting?” Tomo asked with amusement in his voice. Kazuha shook his head.

“No, I found something better,” Kazuha suddenly dove forward, scooping something up in his hands. He looked up triumphantly, holding up the animal in his hands, a large purple beetle that wriggled and crawled over his palms.

“An onikabuto!”

“Let me see!” Tomo demanded, leaning over his shoulder. The creature turned around, settling neatly in Kazuha’s hands. “That’s so cool! I wonder if I can catch one too.”

“It is cool,” You admit. “But we should hurry. We don’t have many hours of daylight left.”

Tomo gasps, looking up at the sky. “You are absolutely right. Hurry up, Kazuha! Adventure awaits us!”

“Okay, okay.” Kazuha chuckled, before letting the little onikabuto go. You held your hand forward to help him up, and he grasped it gratefully.

“Onwards!” Tomo announced, marching ahead through to the forest. His voice grew quieter as he strode further through the trees, almost out of your sight.

“We’d better go on before he gets himself lost.” Kazuha said, brushing the dirt off his clothes.

You held out your hand, and Kazuha took it in his.  

You were always told that friends don’t last forever, that these innocent childhood memories would make way for new ones. But the three of you didn’t grow apart; you grew together, like flowers that bloomed within the same patch of dirt. It was hard to imagine a life without them—the two constants in your life.

Tomo began to get bolder in his words. What started as child prone to disobedience quickly turned into a fiercely loyal man who was willing to die for his ideals. He spoke openly in criticism against whatever he found fault in (which just so happened to be the Shogunate), picking apart the frayed edges of their society until it was little more than lose thread in his hands.

But while Tomo grew louder, Kazuha grew quieter. He didn’t cry anymore; his emotions began to smooth themselves out into a perfect balance of calmness. He leaned into his love of poetry, and his already flowery vocabulary became nothing short of lyrical.

Things were changing. You didn’t mind though, because you knew that you would change together.

“Have you heard?��� The whispers say. They seem to come from every direction, from the Shogun’s guards stationed around Inazuma, to the lips of shopkeepers hidden behind their hands. “They say he challenged the Shogun herself to a duel!”

“Can you imagine?” The whispers answer. Their voices grate on your ears and send shivers down your spine. Something was wrong, that much you knew for certain.

“It’s such a shame. He was such a lovely boy, too.”

You feel a spike of sympathy for whoever they were talking about. Everyone in Inazuma knew that the moment someone challenges the Shogun, their fate is already bound. It was no wonder they were speaking of him as though he was already gone.

“I feel bad for those friends of his. What will they do without him?”

Did he have friends he was close to, as well?

“Is that… them?”

Something was… most definitely wrong. As you walk across the street, you feel eyes piercing the back of your skull, like the entire city was looking at you. Your steps grow faster, trying to outrun the sounds of their voices. If only Tomo hadn’t left his house early this morning, then there would be no need to go searching for him.

“Do you see…”

“I wonder…”

“Has anyone told…”

“(Name)?” You look up at the sound of your name, to see the shopkeeper from Tsukumomono Groceries staring at you with unhidden shock. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you going to the Tenshukaku?”

“The Tenshukaku? Why?”

“Um… the duel?”

“Why would I want to watch that?” You say with disgust in your tone. “I don’t want to watch some random person’s execution.”

“I—I figured the circumstances were different.” She looked deeply uncomfortable, eyes darting between the crowds of people. “I mean… considering who it is.”

“Who it is? Do I know them?”

“You don’t know,” The shopkeeper reels back, like she had been slapped. Her nervous expression fell away to look horrified at the implication. “No one told you—you don’t know.”

Something was wrong.

A sick, twisted feeling appears in your stomach. “Who is it?”

“I—”

“Tell me!” Your voice cracks in the middle of your words, until there were tears pricking the corner of your eyes. You couldn’t imagine why; it wasn’t as if it’s—

“Tomo,” She whispers. “It’s Tomo.”

In one night, you lost both of the people you loved.

One was dead. The other vanished without a trace.

You tried to get on as normal—or as normal as you could—but everywhere was a reminder of what you had lost. The memories were scattered across Inazuma, waiting for the moment they slipped your mind to bring you reeling back into the past.

Autumn leaves fell, surrounding your head like a halo. A white cat lingered around the Tenshukaku, waiting for its owner. Signs were pinned on the noticeboards, conversations penned from hands that were unable to continue them.

There were so many relics of the past that you could almost pretend it wasn’t true; that if you waited in your old meeting spot, the two of them would appear and greet you with open arms.

You could imagine Tomo, with his wide grins and bold words, loudly explaining the true meaning of eternity while strangers gave him odd looks.

You could imagine Kazuha quietly beside you, shoulders barely touching, silence only broken by the occasional haiku he had composed in his mind.

You could imagine them both, walking in step with you as you did your daily errands, warding away the crushing loneliness that threatened to destroy you.

Everyone met you with pity, even those who would get annoyed with your antics as children. They offered nothing but condolences for Tomo, and well-wishes for Kazuha. Some offered an ear to listen to your troubles, but you politely decline.

(It wasn’t as if they would ever understand how it felt to lose two thirds of your life.)

The constant eyes were tiring, so the beach became your safe haven. It was free from people, aside from the occasional couple looking to sneak off, or soldier patrolling the perimeter.

Kazuha always loved this spot. It was, in his words, a paradise of solitude, where nature could sit down and breathe.

Tomo wasn’t too fond of it, complaining about the uneven rocks and sand getting all in his clothes. Still, he would linger there with you both, watching the sky until the sun slipped out of your vision.

When the moonlight hits the water, you can lean back with closed eyes and almost hear Kazuha musing various verses about the way the light reflects the sky, while Tomo chuckles beside you, and it almost feels like nothing changed.

That's the funny thing about loss; it isn't made up of absence. You can still feel their presence as lucidly as you used to, it has just shifted from something tangible into something limited in the confines of your mind, and the fleeting moments of joy before you realize they're not there.

And as long as the sound of their laughter still lingers in the back of your mind, maybe you can forget that they're gone.

reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡

[perseephoneee]

𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓥𝓘𝓘𝓘

In which, you, a lady of the ton, are forced to participate in courting season. Except that courting season comes with one particularly silver tongued Prince who is making it his mission to drive you absolutely insane.

↳ fic masterlist  ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist

warnings: smut is here! p in v, oral (f. receiving)

a/n: for those who celebrate thanksgiving...i hope you guys had a lovely time. i'm sorry for how slow this update was, but i'm happy to deliver it to you. thanks for sticking with me through all of this (my first longform fic!) i can't wait to see where we go next.

i do require two things of you though:

a) i would love a beta reader to help me edit the story now that its over so that you can enjoy a much better version than whatever the crap i wrote lol

b) the epilogue will consist of various headcanons. what type of things would you love to see?

yours in happiness, willa

“You couldn’t have become engaged to anyone who was inheriting a whole kingdom?” Grandmother sighed, taking a long sip of her tea. You thought she would’ve been happier knowing that you had done what she asked and became engaged, but it wouldn’t be your Grandmother without a snide remark thrown in there. 

Ivy rejoiced when you told her the news. Thor even sent an engagement gift to your place during the calling hour. It was very sweet of him, and you were elated to know that you could still continue a friendship with him. Your Grandmother recovered from her slight bout of disappointment to launch into wedding planning, something you took minimal part in. Mostly just stopping her from having a lavish affair. Freya (who insisted you call her by her first name and not her title) had been very helpful in managing your Grandma’s expectations. You managed to secure a wedding gown that was flattering but elegant. The ceremony itself wasn’t going to be overly large. Although, you couldn’t get out of some of the decorations. As your Grandmother explained, both queens would be there and expect a certain level of extravagance. You suppose she was right. 

The day of the wedding came quicker than you expected. You barely saw Loki until that time, and then you spent time working instead of relishing the excitement of an engagement. Sitting in the dressing area before the procession, you found nerves and sadness gripping you. 

“What’s wrong, my dear?” your Grandmother postured, sitting in one of the chairs in the room. You brushed the skirt of your dress down, turning to look at her. “I hope you’re not getting cold feet.”

“I’m not…I just wish mother and father were here,” you murmured, eyes downcast. You never felt more like a little girl in that moment. You expected a sharp retort from your Grandmother but were surprised to find her gaze soften. She looked like an elderly woman for once, not the lady of the household. You were reminded that she lost a child in addition to you losing a parent. 

“They would’ve been very proud of you, my dear,” she smiled. Tears pricked your eyes as you found yourself throwing your arms around her shoulders and enveloping her in a hug. She let out a harrumph of surprise but melted into your embrace. You didn’t bother saying I love you; she’s not the type of woman to know how to reciprocate. You pulled away right as there was a knock on your door, Ivy peeking her head in to let you know that it was time to start. 

The wedding went successfully, with Loki kissing you for a bit longer than appropriate. Thor had to clear his throat amidst all the cheering. You were expected to go on your honeymoon immediately afterward, something you were looking forward to if the dark look in Loki’s eyes was any indication. The honeymoon would occur at one of Odinson’s many estates, so you would be allowed privacy before moving in with the family. Although, you knew at some point you’d be taking over their Nordic estate. That was something you weren’t particularly looking forward to.

By the time you arrived, you were exhausted and eager to take off your constricting gown. You weren’t shy to admit that you and Loki spent most of the carriage ride kissing and taking full advantage of the privacy. You took a break to admire the house you were arriving at; it was an impressive villa with arched windows and lush countryside. The inside was even more extravagant, and by the time you found the library, you thought you must’ve entered Heaven. 

The library was epic; it was the only way to describe it. Walls upon walls of books, a rolling ladder to accompany the higher parts. A wall of windows lay to your left, while on the right led a staircase leading up to even more books. You eagerly took the stairs two at a time to the balcony area, which included a cozy lounge perfect for curling up with a book. 

“And to think I would’ve been able to enjoy your presence on the first night of having you as my wife,” Loki sighed, watching you skim your fingers along the spines of the many books. You barely heard him as you started taking note of the first one you wanted to read. “I suppose I shall go to bed by my lonesome.”

“You are very dramatic,” you huffed, finally looking at him with a grin. 

“Apologies for wanting some attention when I was robbed of your company,” Loki hummed, stepping closer to you and wrapping his arms around your torso. 

“You had me all to yourself in the carriage.”

“Is it wrong of me to covet more?” he murmured, fingers tracing over your hips in a way that sent shivers down your spine. 

“I’m excited to see the books,” you mumbled, mind already hazy from the way he dampened his lips. 

“I could make it worth your while,” he purred, barely a breath in your ear as he kissed your neck, his tongue finding your pulse in a way that made your breath turn heavy. His hands moved up to the back of your dress, finding the ties that held it together and undoing it with an ease that made your stomach tighten. His lips came to yours, bruising them once again. You liked how he kissed you raw, leaving you open for only him. He pulled away to look at you as your dress dropped to the gown, leaving you only in your slip. You felt yourself heat under his gaze, embarrassment and shyness gripping you. With reverence and admiration, Loki only considered you as one considered fine art. Unlike fine art, he looked as if he wanted to eat you whole. 

Loki pushed you towards the lounge, letting you fall until you were looking up at his towering form. He undid his top, leaving him in just his breeches. Your mouth parted as you took in his pale but lean form, the body of someone strong. Instead of joining you on the chaise, he knelt before you, leaning over to kiss you slowly. He kissed like he wasn’t sure if he’d get another chance, even as he willingly parted. His hands caressed your thighs, pushing your slip up until you were left more exposed to him than before. You gulped out of nerves, but all Loki did was wink at you before kissing inside your knee, moving his way up with tongue and teeth until all you could do was pant above him. 

“Darling, I’m going to devour you now…any objections?” Loki purred, fingers toying with your undergarments. 

“No, no objections,” you breathed, your voice a whisper as he pulled them away. You only had a vague idea of what the post-marriage process entailed, but you were fairly sure it had nothing to do with this, which left you excited to see what he had in store. 

You discovered only a second later as his mouth found your center, placing a kiss before licking. A strangled sound left your throat, your stomach tightening as pleasure tingled throughout your body. He hummed, the sound vibrating against your core. His arm held your hips down as he did exactly what he said he’d do, devouring you whole. 

“L-Loki,” you moaned, unable to tear your eyes away from the man in front of you. His fingers brushed over your hole, pushing in one finger slowly as he let you adjust to the foreign feeling. You choked on your breath as he started to move it, continuing to lick as he stroked every bit inside of you. 

Suddenly, you were flying. Merely a blip away from the world as pleasure exploded throughout you. You cried Loki’s name, and when you came to, you had to push him away to give yourself a reprieve from the overwhelming sensations. He crawled up your body, stroking your sides as he lay next to you. 

“That, my love, was called an orgasm.”

“Holy,” you breathed, still trying to float back down to the ground. Loki only chuckled beside you. 

“Yes, my skills have been referred to as that before.” 

You hit him with your hand, trying to hide your smile. “You are obscenely obnoxious; are you aware of that?”

“And to think that marrying you would make you a proper lady.”

“I am proper and a lady; don’t act as if you’d prefer otherwise.”

“You, Y/N, are the only thing I prefer,” Loki said, pulling you in for a kiss. You felt grounded once again as you poured your love and admiration into your lips, your hands, your whole being. Loki’s fingers trailed up your thigh once again. “We can take a break for the night if you are tired.”

“No, I want this. I want you,” you whispered, taking the first step and pulling your slip over your head. Loki’s breath hitched as he took in your soft, silky skin, his mouth slightly parted as you undid your corset. You were fully bare in front of him, and yet, you had never felt so powerful in your life. 

“Aphrodite is jealous of your beauty,” Loki sighed, quickly undoing his breeches before dragging you on top of him. You were slightly thankful to have not glimpsed his member in fear of potentially becoming too scared to go through with it. Loki whispered sweet nothings in your ear as he gripped your hips, helping you sink down on him. He was much bigger than his fingers, and it burned in a way you weren’t cognisant of. Loki continued stroking your sides and your legs, lulling you into relaxation. You came to find you enjoyed the feeling of him inside of you, becoming a part of you in a way no one had before. You nodded when you felt ready, and Loki helped you move. He stroked every bit of you, dragging against your walls so deliciously that all you could do was moan. Your hands found purchase on his shoulders as you found a rhythm, bouncing on his cock and becoming drunk on the sounds of pleasure he made under you. You lean on him for support, pleasure finding you once again as his lips find your breasts, licking over your nub. You lost yourself in the pleasure, chasing a high that was close to cresting over. When you came again, you knew Loki was not far behind. He grabbed your ass, holding you there as he pushed deeper and deeper into you before letting out a guttural growl and cumming inside of you. You had never felt more full in your life, and you let yourself stay there for a second as you both caught your breaths. The only sounds in the library are your breaths and the crackling fireplace. 

“I think I can adjust to married life,” you said slowly. Loki barked out a laugh. 

“I truly do love you, my dear Y/N.”

“I love you too, husband.”

You fell asleep in the library and only scared one servant with your nakedness the next day.

taglist: @eleniblue@iwrite-things @youneedanap @huntress-artemiss @linaax @pisces-celeste @marygoddessofmischief @gruftiela @saay-karani @foxherder @lover-of-books-and-tea @lilaclaufeyson @gardasngan @evasmlp @swampespresso @awnmaknees

[kathang-iniisip]

˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ exhibitionism w/ aiah! <3

g!p reader, dubcon (?)

[LRT 1 edition lmao] okay for context I scrolled down to the bottom of Aiah's ig and now i'm a lil dizzy she's so pretty my first bini bias 🥰 also see her aura and vibe is just very classy but! with that being said imagine being on a cramped train with her 🥺

LRT 1 is a very cramped train especially during the rush hour, you don't even need to hold on to the handrails for safety because everyone's so pressed up against each other that no one can really move even if the train lurches forward when it goes :/

now imagine: you're standing at the very back of the train car, this beautiful stranger standing so so close and giving you a shy and apologetic smile every time she bumps into you. you'd smile back ofc, you're not a monster... except you kinda are.

It's a long train ride, and it looks like her stop is far. No moves to reach the nearest pair of doors and it's her fault really. She smells so good, her perfume teasing at your nose. Shiny eyes staring into yours intently every time she turns to apologize for almost falling and crashing into you. It doesn't matter if her poor balance is an innate thing or because of her ridiculous heels (who wears heels on the train at rush hour?) all you care about is how every time you two touch and you see her pretty face you lose a little more of what self control and decency you have.

Look. It's a cramped train and everyone's minding their business, too engrossed in their phones to even notice that every time you help the woman in front of you regain her balance, your hand drifts lower from her arms, her back, her waist, and finally her hips. God, she's hot. Built like a goddamn goddess and the innocent doe eyes are really doing you in. What would it look like if she was holding in her moans as you groped her right here, right now?

Another stop, another bump.

"goddamn rush hour" you mutter loud enough for her to hear. the agreeing giggle has you clenching your fists in an attempt to stave off thoughts that weren't for 7:00 in the morning.

Another stop, another bump. This time your hand stays on her hips. She doesn't seem to mind or brush you off even if you feel her stiffening up a little.

"Is your stop near, Aiah?" you ask. Looking at her ID to see her name. "no, not yet. you?" she replies in a low voice. you shake your head no. The train stops again and more people shuffle to get off. The brief period of relief and space vanishes once again as a new set of passengers rush in and take their places, somehow squeezing you two closer together. It's not your fault your arms are pinned on her sides. Would it be more awkward to leave your hands hanging or to actually hold on to her? Well, she didn't say anything as your hands took their places on their hips, albeit lower and closer to the curve of her ass than it was before.

It was an accident, you'd swear up and down if she asked. The first time, that is. The train suddenly halted to a stop and you had accidentally thrusted into her, your boner just about slotting into place between her cheeks. The surprised gasp and the little jump didn't escape your notice.

"sorry." you whisper. you see her nod her head, her eyes looking straight ahead. somehow more people manage to squeeze themselves in. The train lurches forward and she can't help but lean against you, her back flat against your front, your hips slotting together perfectly. So perfect you couldn't help but grind a little into her. The tiny whimper she let out broke your resolve.

It was so easy to do it in plain sight. The bumpy ride serving as the perfect cover for you to hump her to your heart's content. Your head's on her shoulder, mouth panting directly into her ear. Her eyes squeezed shut, brows furrowed like she can't believe it's happening. But it is happening. Your hands creeping underneath her tight skirt and gripping her sensitive inner thighs. It's warm inside, making it hard to tell if she's wet or if it's because she's hot. The train's ac couldn't cool anyone down with how many people were inside, all of whom unaware of what was happening at the back of the train car.

"sorry, sorry, sorry," you kept muttering, rubbing yourself against her ass; one hand slipping inside her panties and the other ghosting over her unattended breasts. Her cardigan was perfect, covering for you as you tugged the hem of her skirt up, pulled out your dick, and slipped it inside her panties. she was so wet; lips puffy and sensitive, clenching everytime the tip caught on to her slit. it was a delightful surprise to feel her hand reaching behind her to grip your leaking cock and pushing it inside her folds.

you could go on like this forever, spurting and smearing precum all over the pussy of such a beautiful woman. "I'm five stops away". Or not.

"please cum inside" she bites her lip. "I can't go to class like this."

"of course." you say, sympathetic and finally slipping inside. The relief of it all made her sag against you, and you could feel her thighs trembling with the effort to keep standing. "i got you." you pounded away, finishing just as her stop was announced. A number of people got off with her and you have the pleasure of finally getting a seat and watching her exit the train with a trail of white making its way down inside her thighs, her head bowed low in shame and disbelief.'