#low-key forgot about this for way too long

[muninnhuginn]

Mun!!! :0 I wanted to ask if you watched the new Link Click op and if so, what are your thoughts on it? And also for season 3 in general if you have any expectations for it

Hi! I've seen it, yes. Managed to watch before work, but not had the chance to properly sit down and digest it all before now. Going to put my thoughts on it all below.

Some things to keep in mind: I've watched the opening and I've skimmed the Tumblr tag a few times since then, but I've not gone deep dive or anything. So if I say something that's been said loads already that's probably because I've not seen everyone else saying it yet. The other thing is that I may comment on the lyrics of the song, but not in relation to potential foreshadowing, given bai sha jaws have been pretty clear they're not really privy to any more info than we are as the audience.

With that out of the way, let's go.

We start with the focus on the camera, which transitions to the basketball court. The use of the feather to carry the transition is one of those "which could mean nothing" details, because the use of feathers is pretty prominent in some of the official art pieces.

Next, Cheng Xiaoshi takes Lu Guang's hand and pulls his past self onto the court. The implications of this are pretty obvious (the 'current' Lu Guang is left unsaturated as his past and Cheng Xiaoshi are held in soft light; Lu Guang doesn't feel like he belongs in this treasured past), but I like the extra little aspect of the basketball pitch being the setting because it means the fencing acts as prison framing. And the prison framing is perfect for the line "trapped in a rewind".

Lonely road, long shadow, it's the heat of the summer and he's small against the backdrop of the street. Stick a pin in this one because we'll return to it later.

And over to fake London and its red doubledeckers. Xia Fei looking out when something (someone?) catches his attention. We're then shown Lu Guang in front of one of Xia Fei's posters, but my instinct is that what Xia Fei is looking at/for is unrelated. Anyway, Lu Guang still desaturated, still not fitting in.

Heh. No comment. (Although, tangent time! I've not been able to pause fast enough to catch the 'afternoon tea' sign but I feel the need to point out something after skimming past some posts that have mentioned it. 'Afternoon tea' isn't a drink. It's more a meal? An event? Say, sometime between lunchtime and dinnertime (I won't confuse things further by referring to the latter as teatime here) it'd be a get together where people would have scones and hot drinks and cake, etc. It's honestly low-key posh so it's far from a daily thing for most people, but it's the sort of thing you'd do for an extended family get together.)

Onto Liu Xiao reading some more Shakespeare. My Shakespeare knowledge is limited to Othello and Romeo and Juliet so... I'll leave this one to other people.

More Lu Guang being out of place.

Someone having tea (the drink) followed by a cipher I'm pretty sure people have already cracked:

Then onto this character:

Not gonna speculate too heavily at this point, but I know people are guessing she's either related to Xia Fei or *is* Xia Fei, given the shared eye and hair colour. I lean towards the former being more likely given the whole thing on the bus where Xia Fei's attention was seemingly caught by something/someone outside. Also, flower in the forefront, not 100% sure here but looks a bit like a yellow daffodil. Possibly a bit out of season for them if this is summer, but we don't care about that. We care about the meaning of a daffodil which is rebirth/new beginnings/all that jazz.

And back again to Lu Guang, who immediately reminds me of something I thought was cool earlier but forgot to mention. Lu Guang is entirely desaturated in this opening, yes, aside from the use of red. Is it original? No. Is it effective? Yes.

Puddle of blood and we meet again, dear white feather:

(The puddle of blood is actually completely still until the feather hits it, at which point *everything* in the scene lifts up).

And we're into full colour (light pouring in from the window) as we see photos (memories) fly around:

And these scenes focus on both Qiao Ling and Cheng Xiaoshi. First, them interacting with each other, then with the unseen narrator (presumably Lu Guang). They both brighten his world.

Lyrics of "there will be a fire when it all unfolds". Liking the 'unfolds' maybe callback there to op 1 Vortex and also the snow/ash/fire thing reminds me... so, like I said, not gonna use the lyrics themselves as foreshadowing, but the backdrop in the next section is fair game and there's a pretty clear fire there. I know it doesn't *have* to be a literal fire, but it was pretty striking so I think it's more likely than not there'll be some fire in Yingdu itself?

Flash through Lu Guang against different backgrounds. Won't spam them all, but we start with the photo studio transition through various Yingdu related backdrops then the clock backdrop (which ofc takes my mind straight back to Madoka) and back to the studio (this time ft. gun in gloved hand (possibly same gloved hand as the teacup earlier - possibly possibly vein, idc to speculate too hard on that point) and finally! We're back to the start of the opening and the basketball court. The whole scene is now washed out and Lu Guang matches it as he wipes his tears, before Cheng Xiaoshi grabs his arm and the colour floods back in.

(Also tangent again but "we fought the tides" as another lyrical callback to the season two ending, nice nice)

And speaking of returning to earlier in the opening, here's the road again:

All three of them running forwards as we pan up to the light in the sky.

And those are my thoughts. There's a lot I skimmed over either because it doesn't much interest me or because I'm pretty sure others'll have written essays already but yeah. Solid opening. Time to jettison my hopes before they get too high.

In terms of the second question, I've not been counting Yingdu as season three in my head, but I'm still genuinely unsure whether it "officially" counts or not. That said, my thoughts on a season three after Yingdu are so murky that I'm going to treat your question as though Yingdu is season three because then I can actually provide some kind of answer.

Basically, I've been thinking of Yingdu as something adjacent to Madoka episode eight - there to provide extra context but technically extraneous to the overall series. This is partly because of the different production layout behind the scenes, with a different studio and directing setup than the 'main' series. I'm basically expecting this arc to help raise the emotional stakes on Lu Guang's side of the situation without actually providing a resolution to the overarching plot.

[hauntedaugust]

Gojo x reader

WC: 434

Summary: medieval AU part 2, reincarnation AU.

Part 1

-----------------------------

How long had you lingered on the edge of his subconscious?

Fleeting as autumn leaves, hot as a flickering flame.

Whispers of past conversations, of past lives, and past loves.

How long had you lingered in his life?

Subtle as the wind, invisible yet changing everything.

Your influence in his life was as stark as the contrast between light and shadow and yet he never knew you were there.

Why did it take him this long to piece together his past, your past?

Sweet words and soft nights, a stark contrast to the last time he truly saw you.

But how true is it? He dreams of you, of having a kingdom to protect along with a secret.

How had it taken him this long to realize the weight of the nightmares he had? You were always in his dreams, much like his life, slipping in and out like a ghost through walls. Always present, never permanent.

Every night before he woke, he found you falling into his arms. Your face bathed in both fear and firelight, and every night before he woke he found himself pleading with the universe for another chance, a redo, and when his pleading didn't work his words slurred into promises.

Pledges of affection and protection poured from his mouth like blood from your wound.

And as his desperation grew, his grip tightened and his whispers turned to shouts.

And every day without fail, he woke with that familiar desperation running through his veins. His memory of his dream, and subsequently you, would fade like the light in your eyes.

And yet, when he saw you in the waking world, there was no way he couldn't know. He was drawn to you as water is drawn to the bottom of a mountain, your pull was incontestable.

And so he set to work to win your heart. And after hundreds of questionable jokes, of daisies pulled from sidewalks, of long walks through meadow and forest, he had you by his side.

Often times he would pull you to him as he sat in front of the fireplace. And as you lay your head on his shoulders, he would tell you stories, stories of forbidden love and war.

It was only after you had fallen asleep, lulled by his gentle murmur, that he allowed himself to truly thank the universe for your presence in his life.

And so with you sleeping soundly at his side, he laid his head on yours and closed his eyes. No longer plagued by the nightmares of his past, he dared to dream of your future.

[2tarbell]

more trailer park!rafe drabbles i beg

maybe something with crybaby!reader too, like he comes home from a long ass day and she’s crying over the silliest thing ever.

but of course he makes her feel better.

love ur writing smm !!

he knew he was in for it when he came home and she wasn’t waiting patiently for him. if he didn’t know any better, rafe would assume the quaint trailer was empty — but the call you shared earlier on his lunch break detailed your plans around the house for the day, so there was no fuckin’ reason for it be as quiet as it was.

his confusion turned to concern when he heard little sniffles and sobs coming from the bathroom. rafe dropped his keys in the bowl and hurried off further into the trailer, in search of his girl.

pushing the bathroom door open with a rough hand, his mind went to the worst places when he saw her crumpled up on the floor. instantly he scooped her up onto the counter. his voice was a flurry of sounds she couldn’t decipher through her tears. the warm cadence she’s become so familiar with instantly providing some relief.

“hey, hey, baby — look at me, you hurt?” his hands are moving fast, holding her cheeks and checking for any injuries to that beautiful face.

she could only shake her head, hiccuping and trying to speak between sobs.

“rafe— dad— daddy—“

he hums and looks over her body. blue eyes checking off a list of what’s ‘normal’. when he finds nothing bleeding or falling off — that intense gaze finds hers, urging her to calm down.

his voice cooed, low and rumbly in a way that always soothes her, “shh, dad’s here, what happened? hm? someone — someone do somethin’ t’you or—“

“muh — my nails!” she interrupted, voice a petulant mumble.

rafe froze, mouth agape and eyes blinking in confusion. he looked down and took her smaller hands in his. turning them over and feeling the smooth skin. no cuts, no bruises—

the fact that he didn’t immediately know what she was talking about sends her into another spiral. yanking her hands from his and covering her eyes as sobs shook her shoulders.

“okay, okay, can’t help if you’re cryin’. talk t’me— what about your nails, honey?”

she sniffs and thrusts them in his face, rafe now seeing something out of the ordinary — chipped baby blue polish.

“wanted— wanted to paint them f’you. ‘cuz— ‘cuz s’the same color as your eyes but forgot they weren’t dry yet so i tried to make dinner and— and i ruined them!”

everyday the universe was testing his patience.

a sharp sigh out of his nose and rafe let his head fall forward. relief and disbelief pooled in his chest. she was this worked up over nail polish?

a low grumble of her name ceased her tears until they were just little sniffles of sadness. any other person and rafe would’ve been out the door with a specific finger showing his annoyance. but this was his person, his precious girl, and if she was this worked up over nail polish — he was going to indulge her. he picked up his head, eyes tired from a long days work but soft in a way meant just for her. he spoke in that way that makes her all fuzzy for him.

“jesus christ, that’s— yeah, okay. baby, ‘m— ‘m sorry. y’just wanted t’do somethin’ sweet f’dad, yeah?”

hook, line, and sinker. reader huffed and nodded as she leaned forward into his chest. her little gasps punctuated his cooing. within minutes, she was putty in his arms, nuzzling closer and closer. rafe littered kisses over her hair, gently rocking her until her head lifted off his chest. wet cheeks and a red nose greeted him and he couldn’t stop the adoring coo from falling out as he wiped her face.

“thereee you are— my sweet girl… better now?”

she nodded at his words, almost hypnotized by the gentle tone of his voice. a little hiccup fell out when she caught sight of her messy nails, but rafe quickly shushed her.

“shh, no more cryin’. y’gotta be a big girl, a’ight? c’mon, whaddaya need?”

she wished she had a picture of this big man patiently painting and blowing on her nails — that matched his eyes.

[maxlarens]

Hi! Can i request friends for lovers with lando saying "i can't seem to take neither my eyes, nor my mind off of you, [name]." ✨🫶 thank you

usually i am so Consumed by the idea of the ✨Tension✨ of friends to lovers that i never do a confession scene but here is me making good on that finally. i hope u liked this anon!!!! sorry it took a while.

In hindsight, you think you should have woken up that morning and known. Known via some cosmic force that today was going to be it— the day you’d been waiting basically a decade for, the day you don't think you'll forget as long as you live—

Instead, you wake up bolt upright at three in the morning, heart beating frantic in your chest, to five missed calls from your best friend.

"What?", you groan, angry, into the phone, then, realising he's calling you at three in the morning, a more concerned note seeps into your tone, "Lan, is that you? You alright?"

"I locked myself out," is the gravelly reply.

"You locked yourself out?"

"I— yes," he hisses down the line, "I forgot my keys okay."

You snort, say, "You're a silly billy," without thinking anything of it.

You'll attribute it to sleep deprivation later, but you'll also find that Lando thinks nothing further of it, too used to you throwing affectionate nicknames his way—

"Shuddup," he mumbles.

You think he's drunk, at least tipsy. He'd said something offhandedly on your FaceTime call yesterday about going out with a few friends you don't know. Besides, there's a slur to his words, a tiredness.

"Come up already," you tell him.

"'M right outside."

You hum in confirmation that you've heard him, put your phone back on the nightstand and slip out from under the covers. You're wearing a sweatshirt that's three sizes too big it might be Lando's and pink fuzzy socks, you feel goosebumps rise on your legs as you pad to the front door. You lean heavily against the wall, closing your eyes as you unlock the padlock and swing it open for your friend.

Lando stumbles in. You twist around to look at him. He's not as drunk as you thought he might be. Sleepy though. You can tell by the squint of his eyes, how they're red rimmed and the mess of his hair. Run through too many times with his hand.

"You want your spare key?", you question as Lando turns on his heel, finding you at the sound of your voice.

He frowns, looking at you like you've grown two heads. Crease forming between his eyebrows.

"Nuh," he shakes his head, then reaches forward to take your wrist, hauling you back through the apartment, "Let's go sleep."

You shrug, acquiescing as he leads you to your bedroom. If you hadn't just been woken up from a dead sleep you might have felt a little weird about it. Paid attention to the stirring feeling low in your gut. Instead, you slip into bed and pull the covers back for Lando without a care in the world.

It's not that weird, you think as he kicks off his shoes and rummages around on your hanging rail for a shirt big enough for him. He finds one that you're sure was originally his. You look away as he changes, shucking out of the short sleeve button up you'd helped him pick out, peeling off chinos you'd also picked out. There's a pair of his gym shorts laying around somewhere, you know it— but he doesn't bother to look for them. Just pulls the t-shirt on over his bare tan chest and climbs in next to you.

You've done this before. Many times. And the two of you make a deliberate point of not being weird about, even though it's been a point of contention in every relationship either of you have had to date. And you don't know what it is tonight this morning, but his presence next to you is making your chest tight. Something skitters up your spine as he slots into your space.

As casual as ever he slings an arm over your waist, tugs you closer to him and presses the line of his nose into the back of your neck. Briefly, he reaches to swipe your hair out of the way, mumbling something about it tickling him.

There's something set ablaze in your stomach.

"G'night, babe," he mutters, breath fanning your ear.

God. You have to suppress a shiver. The babe thing isn't even anything different, he calls you that often enough mostly when he's had something to drink, there's just something about it right now. When you're sleep-woozy and he's just undressed in front of you. Maybe you had a weird dream about him again and you can't remember it, even if your subconscious does.

You bite down on your tongue, answer, "Sleep tight, Lan."

He hums. You crack your neck to stop from letting out a noise that would be utterly indecent right now. Unaware, Lando puts his nose right back in the same spot. You lie there for a while, wired and buzzing, until you hear his breathing steady and deepen as he falls asleep. And even though you feel like every nerve ending in your body is on fire, sleep finds you too.

You wake up again, later, to the morning sun pouring in through your curtains. It lights up the empty space on the bed in front of you. Acreage of bed, pillow, not taken up by anyone.

Still, on your other side, Lando's in your personal space to a degree that you don't realise at first. You wake up disoriented, grappling to remember the events of early that morning. There’s still no cosmic thing telling you that you need to remember today. Commit every single second to memory as it happens. You try to roll over, feeling warmth at your back but not thinking anything of it until Lando gripes something unintelligible into your ear—

Okay. Memories return to you now.

You start to contextualise the skin on yours.

Lando's arm is still slung around your waist, but his hand has made it's way underneath your jumper. Fingers dig into the plush skin of your bare stomach, clutching like you'll slip out of his grasp if he's not careful. Somehow, the other arm has forced it's way under your pillow and you can feel the line of his body against your back, where he's gotten as close to you as he could manage. His legs tangle with yours, one of them spreading out into your space, strewn diagonally across the bed. His knee presses up into the meat of your thigh.

You try not to think how easily your bodies fit together.

You're still for a while. Drifting in and out of sleep. You're comfortable, above all else. You don't really want Lando to move. This certainly isn't the first time you've woken up like this, tangled up with each other, you're betting you'll be able to pass it off with a silly comment once Lando wakes up. You'll extract yourselves from each other and get on with your day like usual.

No big deal—

Lando wakes up half an hour or so later and acts like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. He yawns loudly into your ear and rolls over without fanfare—

No big deal—

It's only when you're in the kitchen together— cooking bacon and eggs while Lando drinks coffee from your espresso machine— that the cracks start to show.

You glance at him sideways, watching as he gnaws at the inside of his mouth. His eyes slip off you, directing to the sizzling pan, “What’s up?”, you ask, “Something happen?”

He shakes his head, too quickly, “No. Nope— I—”

He tapers off his sentence, shaking his head. Nose scrunching momentarily. You raise an eyebrow but don’t think much of it. It’s Lando, he’ll tell you if it’s important. Plus, you’re kinda busy right now making sure the eggs don’t burn. A few minutes pass, you ask him to grab plates. He says okay and then drags out an,

“Um,” for so long that you’re a little concerned.

Something nervous flutters in your chest, you’re turning the heat on the burner down low before you know why. You’ve just been friends with Lando for so long, you know when there’s something heavy in his words, when there’s something on the tip of his tongue.

You turn to give him your full attention, your eyebrows furrowing as you look up at him.

“Plates, Lan?”

He’s staring at you. Like, staring at you. Like, slack-jawed, eyes glittering, staring. Like how the guy looks at the girl at the end of every rom-com ever. Like how Harry looks at Sally in every fucking scene of your favourite movie of all time. Like—

Shit. Do you have a massive fuck off pimple on your face? Have you turned blue? Are you being completely out of your mind delusional right now? Because there’s something suddenly wreaking havoc in your stomach. And you really do want to believe that Lando is looking at you in that way, and not just because you’ve got something embarrassing on your face—

“Lando,” you say, firmly, urgency to it, “Spit it out.”

He shakes his head.

You put a hand on his bicep, “Lando.”

It’s got to be that. It’s got to be—

God, your chest feels tight. Your skin feels like it’s on fire. He’s not even said anything yet!

It’s got to be—

He blinks. You think your sudden intensity has made him nervous because he rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck from side to side. A little groan escapes his lips.

“I just—” he sighs heavily, as if it’s too hard to force out; but he’s still looking at you, “What if, I was— ugh, no, nothing, it’s fine—”

“What if you were what?”, it’s out of your mouth before you can think. You think you know exactly what the end of his sentence is. You think perhaps you are too. A pause, then, being braver than you thought you could be, you add, “In love with me?”

He looks immediately as if you’ve sucker punched him right in the gut. Eyes wide and wet and red-rimmed, like kicked puppy, a pleading dog. There’s something scared, nervous, in the set of his shoulders as well. You watch them draw up to his chin as he tries to sink into them.

“Why would you say that?” His voice is downright panicked, “How did you know that?”

Your heart stops beating in your chest, drops into your stomach and falls right out your ass. You shake your head,

“I didn’t. I didn’t. I just guessed, Lan,” you realise your hand is still on his bicep, you squeeze, “Are you?”

“Am I?”, he looks slightly incredulous, baffled at what you’re saying like it’s supposed to be obvious that he is, “Jesus. Of course I am. I can’t– I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re there all the time. And y’know, I see you and you’re just,” he waves an arm between the two of you, gesturing up and down at your body, “You’re fucken’ gorgeous. And you don’t say a thing when we wake up together and I’m basically, on top of you—”

“You don’t say anything either,” you gripe, even though there’s something like joy clawing up your throat, “I thought it was normal.”

Lando tips his head back, groans something halfway filthy, “Normal. I didn’t let half my exes sleep over, and I turned around if they did sleep in my bed. And— fuck, y’know— my keys are actually in my pants pocket right now. I was out drinking and having fun and all I could think about was how much I missed you. How much I just wanted to like, crawl into bed with you.”

“You arsehole.”

“What?”

“You arsehole,” you repeat, “I would have let you in anyway. You didn’t have to lie.”

For a long minute, Lando gapes at you like a fish out of water. Briefly, you think maybe you’ve screwed it by being too mean. It’s never stopped you before, but you’ve also never been in this exact situation with Lando before, frighteningly enough—

One second you’re running through all the possible apologies you could give to make it better, to smooth it all over, and then the next Lando is kissing you—

Or, you feel his hand on your chin first, your mouth forming the first letter of shit, sorry Lan, and then suddenly his mouth is slanting across yours. He tastes a bit like morning breath and a lot like bitter coffee, but his mouth is wet and soft and your lips slot together so perfectly. You put a hand in his curls and find that it feels different to when you card your fingers through his hair.

God.

He’s got a hand on your waist and he’s digging his fingers into your jaw like you’re going to pull away from him without warning and never come back.

“Lan,” you say into his mouth, he pauses long enough for you to speak, lips hovering, nearly touching, “‘M not going anywhere.”

He shakes his head, slanting forward to kiss you again, “No, you’re not,” he pulls back again, pressing his forehead to yours, green-as-grass eyes boring into yours, “Please say you’re in love with me right now?”

Despite yourself, you raise an eyebrow, “Are you in love with me?”

He sighs something ragged out through his nose, kisses you again, says, “‘Course, I’m in love with you. How could I not be,” into your mouth.

You hum from the back of your throat, tongue slipping forward to press against his teeth, tangling against his, “Then of course I am, Lan,” you echo.

How could you not be?

u just know all of lando's gfs/situationships HATED the fuck out of her

[covenofagatha]

My Fair Lady

You finally convince your girlfriend, Agatha, to attend the annual Westview fair with you and things end up leading to a roll in the hay(ride), non-magic AU

Word count: ~3000

Warnings: smut, semi-public sex, mommy kink

It’s a beautiful day in Westview when the annual fair takes place, an autumn breeze chilling the air and the smell of pumpkins and cinnamon hanging over. It’s your favorite event of the year: hayrides, pumpkin carvings, face painting stations, bobbing for apples, and even more. The fair is always two weeks before Halloween and everyone in the town turns up.

Which is exactly what you told your girlfriend,  Agatha, to try to get her to go with you. She had never attended one, even though she had lived in Westview for almost ten years, and you were determined to get her to come this year. When you had first mentioned it, she slumped lower into the couch, lips tight. The older woman could be such a drama queen sometimes. She’d love to go, she insisted, but she would be forced to see all the people in the town she didn’t like and that was not a fun way to spend a weekend, when instead, she could spend it with you in bed. She had then pulled you onto her lap and fucked you so well you forgot about the matter entirely for a few days. 

The next time you asked, she was cooking dinner for the two of you. She had rolled her eyes fondly and said she would think about it and then changed the subject, never bothering to stop cutting vegetables.

But finally, as they say, third time’s the charm. You realized where you went wrong the other times: you were just asking the question in the wrong way. You had her sprawled on her back on the couch, tongue drawing circles around her clit. Her hand was tangled in your hair, silently urging you on as whimpers fell from her mouth. “That’s it, baby girl,” she praised in a low voice. “Make mommy come.” But then you had pulled away and said you wouldn’t unless she promised to come to the fair with you. She grunted and then hastily agreed; she would’ve promised you anything if it would get your pretty mouth back on her. 

And a promise is a promise. The day of the fair finally arrives, and you head downstairs after dressing in a plaid skirt and a striped sweater. Agatha is already down there, fiddling with her keys. Your breath catches; she looks so hot. She’s wearing a white turtleneck under a brown blazer and gray pants that make her ass look great. Her long hair is wavy and tumbles loosely down her back. You almost wish you hadn’t pushed so hard to go to the fair, seeing her dressed like that. It is already mid-afternoon though, so you’ll only be at the fair for a few hours. And then she can take you home and–

She raises an eyebrow at you, smirking as if she can hear your thoughts. “Shall we, sweetheart?” 

“Yes!” You say enthusiastically, pushing your dirty thoughts out of your head. 

The drive to the fairgrounds is quiet, Agatha tracing patterns on your leg with one hand while her other hand is on the wheel. “You really like this thing, don’t you?” 

It takes you a moment before you realize that she’s talking about the fair and you nod. “I’ve gone every year since I’ve lived here. I think you’ll love it too, Aggs. I’m dying to take you to my favorite ice cream stand. And there’s face painting – you should get yours painted!” She tosses a glare your way and you giggle. “Bobbing for apples, hayrides, oh, and a kissing booth.” The last part comes out teasingly, just to see how she’ll react. 

Her grip tightens on your thigh, squeezing an involuntary moan out of your mouth. “You better not even look in that direction.” 

“How could I, when I have my very own kissing booth right here,” you say, voice sugary sweet, but she grimaces at how cheesy it is. You laugh and lean over to peck her cheek, delighting in the way the corners of her mouth perk up. 

“Well,” she says, effortlessly parallel parking once you arrive. Hot. “Where to first, my dear?” 

You chew on your lip thoughtfully and then an idea lights up in your head. “Petting zoo!” You all but drag her by the hand. 

The petting zoo has some of the cutest animals you’ve ever seen: little lambs, chicks, and a tiny horse. You coo at the tiny horse and even see Agatha reach out to pet it. You’re smiling like a dope at her when she finally turns to look at you. 

“What?” She asks. 

“Nothing,” you say. “You’re just really cute with small animals.” 

She scoffs and tosses her hair over her shoulder dramatically. “I’m always cute,” she corrects you and you snort. 

You interlock your fingers with hers and pull her to the next station, a corn maze. You have a terrible sense of direction, something not lost on Agatha as she playfully asks you which way to go everytime you come to a fork. Each time, you hold up a finger and close your eyes, pretending to be listening to the wind. Agatha watches you with a smirk, nodding intently when you open your eyes and make up some story about what the spirits told you. You then pick a direction completely at random. 

It’s over thirty minutes later when you both realize you are not getting any closer to the center and maybe Agatha should try picking which way to go. And of course, it’s five minutes and four confident turns later when you reach the statue in the middle. 

“Well, I was the one who got us so close,” you say amidst her laughing. “And then you had the easy part.” 

She stops chuckling and grabs your hips, pulling you against her. “That’s exactly what happened, baby. We couldn’t have done it without you.” Her lips brush against yours and you part your mouth so you can kiss her properly. 

It’s a soft, tender kiss and your heart fills with so much love for the older woman. You pull back just a little and lean your forehead on hers. She’s a few inches taller than you so you have to stand on your tip-toes. “Are you having fun?” You’re a little insecure that Agatha still doesn’t want to be here and she’s only pretending for your sake. If she says no, you won’t hesitate before saying the two of you can leave.

But she cups your cheek and warmly looks into your eyes. “I am, sweetheart. Thank you for making me come.” 

You smile wickedly, not being able to resist. “Oh it’s my pleasure. I love making you come.” The innuendo is not lost on her and she drags you into a much more heated kiss. She nips at your bottom lip and you whine, arms moving around her neck to try to get her closer. Her lips trail down and to your neck, softly sucking. “Agatha,” you gasp, tangling your hands in her hair. 

And then the sound of children laughing forces you apart just in time for two little boys to come running through the clearing, barely sparing you two a glance. 

“This is why I hate children,” Agatha sighs. “Let’s get out of here. Do you remember how we got here?” 

You don’t even respond, just opting to give her a pointed look. You both know you don’t. She smirks and starts walking down the path on the east. You scramble to keep up, not wanting to get separated from her. You know she’d never let it go if you got lost and the fair had to send in a search and rescue team to find you. Agatha barely breaks her stride and about ten turns later, you’re standing out front of the maze. 

You gape at her. “How did you–” She cuts you off by pointing to the sign next to the entrance, a sign with a map of the maze. Your jaw drops even more. “You knew where to go the entire time and you still let me bumble around and take every wrong turn?” 

She shrugs innocently. “What can I say, darling? You’re just really cute when you’re giving me the wrong directions.” She bops your nose, which you scrunch up at her. “Where to next?” 

You scan your surroundings. The line at your favorite ice cream stand is short so you make a beeline for it, Agatha following quickly behind. Dottie’s Famous Soft Serve Ice Cream. 

“The lime is my favorite,” you whisper to Agatha once you’ve gotten in line. “But the vanilla and orange swirl is also pretty good.” 

She considers the list of flavors thoughtfully. “I think I’ll go with the lime.” You smile, unable to help yourself. 

The line goes quickly and the two of you are soon at the front. “Two limes in a waffle cone, please,” you say to Dottie, who immediately recognizes you. You frequent her store several times a month, always getting the same thing. 

“Y/n! So nice of you to stop by,” she says, grabbing two cones. 

“You know me, Dottie. Gotta have my lime ice cream. And I’m trying to corrupt this one.” You nod to Agatha and Dottie chuckles, turning back around with your ice cream. 

“Here you go,” she says, handing them to you. “That’ll be six dollars.” Agatha pulls out a ten from her wallet and puts it on the counter. “Thank you!” 

You hand your girlfriend one of the cones and lead her to sit on a bench away from all the people. You softly groan the minute the lime ice cream hits your tongue. Even after having it so many times, it never fails to disappoint.  You glance at Agatha, who’s watching you with a certain look in her eyes. “Have you tried it yet?” 

She nods. “It’s really good, sweetheart. I knew you wouldn’t lead me astray.” 

“Unlike corn mazes, I do actually know my way around ice cream,” you retort and you both laugh. A comfortable silence settles over you as you lazily work at your ice cream while watching the people walk by. 

You suddenly hear Agatha sharply inhale and you look over with concern. She’s watching you, half her cone already eaten. You can now make out the look in her eyes – desire. “Stop teasing, pet,” she growls, pupils blown wide. 

A thrill runs through you. You hadn’t even been trying to, but you clearly had done something. “What do you mean?” you ask innocently, this time licking a deliberate stripe up the center of your ice cream, never breaking eye contact. 

Her tongue pushes into the inside of her cheek. “Finish up quickly,” she says, her raspy voice doing things to your insides. You rarely get to see her this desperate for you and you wish she’d show this side of her more often. Almost every day, she turns you into a whimpering mess for her, while she’s usually much more composed, even when she lets you take control. 

“Yeah?” You whisper. Her dark eyes dart down to your lips and then back up. 

“Yeah, baby girl. Be a good girl for mommy.” The pet names ignite a fire in your belly. You wolf down the rest of your ice cream, as does she, and then she’s tugging you back to the parking lot. 

“Wait, Agatha,” you say, coming to halt. She looks back at you. “We can’t leave without going on the hayride. It takes you around all the spooky parts of town.” 

She swallows hard. “You really want to?” Part of you wants to just say fuck it and go home with her right now, but the hay ride is always your favorite part of the fair. And you want to share that with her. 

“Yes. I’m sorry.” To her credit, she does a good job covering up her disappointment if she feels any. 

She squeezes your hand. “Don’t be. I can wait a little longer before taking you home and ruining you.” You let out a small gasp, images of her words flitting through your mind. 

“You know, the fair will be here next year,” you say, suddenly ready to call it a night. You can feel how flushed your cheeks have become.

“Oh, no, darling. You are taking me on this hayride,” Agatha insists, smirking. You grumble, secretly a little glad deep down, and walk her over to where the wagons are parked. There’s no one else in line. It’s starting to get dark and a little chilly, so you figure some people might be leaving early. 

“Just the two of you?” a man says and you nod. He holds out a hand and helps you and Agatha step into the back of the wagon. “Here’s some blankets if you need them.” He tosses two fuzzy green blankets at you, hay sticking to them. 

You smile gratefully and throw it over your cold legs. You should’ve worn pants. Agatha wraps an arm around you and pulls you closer as well so you can absorb some of her body heat. The man gets in the tractor attached to the wagon and starts loudly talking as he pulls out of the spot. He’s saying something about the history of Westview when you’re distracted by Agatha putting her hand that’s not around you on your thigh under the blanket. 

You glance at her out of the corner of your eye and you see her already watching you, a wicked grin on her face. “Pay attention,” she whispers, nodding to the back of the man. Luckily, he can’t see you and no one else is in the wagon with the two of you. 

At first, she doesn’t do much, just slowly strokes your thigh with her fingertips. But it’s enough to make the heat in your stomach fire back up. You really try to hone into the hayride tour, but the smell of Agatha and her hot breath on your neck makes it hard. Not to mention her fingers now starting to creep up under your skirt. 

“Agatha,” you breathe. 

“Yes, baby?” she says innocently, like she hasn’t just cupped you over your underwear. Her fingertips are light as they press down. Your hips jump and Agatha’s eyes flash. “Gotta be careful,” she murmurs in your ears. “Or I’ll stop. You wouldn’t want that, would you?” 

You furiously shake your head and bite down on your lip preemptively. She smiles and pushes your underwear to the side, sliding through your folds. Thankfully, the wagon is passing through an area of the town that is quiet and dark, so you really only have to worry about the driver catching you. 

“Sweetheart, you’re already so wet,” Agatha says hotly into your ear. “Does the thought of someone seeing you like this turn you on?” 

“No,” you protest, cheeks burning. 

She pushes a finger into you and your walls clench down immediately. “Are you sure?” she drawls. You take a sharp breath when she moves ever so slightly. “I think you like it. The thrill. The danger. Knowing if anyone looked too closely they’d see what a good slut you are for me.” 

You have to sink your teeth into your hand so you don’t let out a pornographic moan. Agatha chuckles. 

“You’re doing so good for me, baby,” she whispers, thumb rubbing your clit just the right way. 

“Mm, mommy, please,” you gasp into her ear. The angle at which her finger is thrusting inside you is awkward at best, but somehow she’s making it work for you. You’d be embarrassed at how close to cumming you are if it wasn’t Agatha, who could probably make you cum if she looked at you hard enough. 

“Good girl, cum for mommy.” She twists the finger inside you and roughly strokes your clit and it sends you over the edge. She gives you a few moments to come down from your high before sliding her hand out from under your skirt. She sucks her wet finger into her mouth and her eyes flash. “That ice cream was good, honey, but it’s got nothing on you.” 

You feel your cunt pulse again, and based on her face, she knows. 

“It’s almost too easy,” she jokes with a grin.

“And here we are, back to where we started,” the man driving the tractor announces, pulling back into the lot where he had been parked. You let out a sigh of release at the perfect timing. He walks around and helps the two of you step out, you not missing the 20 dollar bill Agatha slips into his shirt pocket. 

“That was the best hayride I’ve ever been on,” she gushes and winks at you. You blush and find sudden interest in your feet, not able to meet the man’s eyes. 

“Glad to hear it!” he says happily, apparently missing everything. You give him a tight smile and quickly drag Agatha away. It’s much darker now and the majority of the people have cleared out of the fairgrounds. 

“Was it everything you hoped it would be?” you ask. 

“The fair, or fucking you in the back of a wagon?” You give her a look and she smirks. She pauses walking to wrap an arm around your shoulder and pull you into a hug. “I had a lovely time, darling. I love you.” 

You smile into her neck. “I love you, too.” You break the hug to give her a wicked look. “Now, you said something about me teasing you earlier? What are you going to do about that?”

The same wickedness glints in her eyes. “Let’s go find out. I can assure you it involves putting that tongue to better use than licking Dottie's famous lime ice cream.” 

She all but shoves you into the car, heat igniting your insides, desire for the older woman racing through you. 

It’s going to be a long night. 

[twizzie-lairs]

My Darling, My Honey

Alastor X Fem!Reader (Part 8)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Quick Notes:

You, the reader who is an artist, and had become Alastor's sweetheart, but unfortunately died too early.

Now, you're in hell.

Part 8:

Your arrival in hell was a quiet one, hardly a soul around to even notice you in what looked like a barren desert. But red. So much red everywhere. The sky, the ground, all of it- red.

You looked down at your hands, you looked different. You looked... not quite human.

"So this is hell, isn't it?" You said yourself out loud. "I thought it would be more... populated.. and.. different."

But what really caught your eye was a ring on the ring finger of your left hand. You don't recall ever wearing a ring there before you died.

But then it dawned on you... Alastor. This ring was from him. It had to be. Tears welled up in your eyes as you sniffled. It just had to be and you thanked whatever higher powers that existed for allowing this one thing to be brought with you to Hell after you died.

After walking for miles, hardly seeing any sign of civilization- or whatever it's called down here, you happen upon a small town situated in an oasis.

Well, a hell.. version of an oasis. It wasn't water in the center of this town, lava maybe? Blood? Either way, you figured this would be where you'd have to get your start and find your bearings as a new denizen of Hell.

After talking to some (begrudging) locals, you found out you were in what's called the "Ring of (insert whatever ring of hell you want to be in, except pride)"

With the basic information given to you (and then being told to figure the rest out, as the locals spat in your face) you figured you would have to settle here for now.

So settle you did, until you had enough resources to get to a bigger city.

In life, you were an artist, it was the one thing you felt like you could do best, so that's what you decided to do in Hell too.

For many years, you were the definition of a starving artist. You moved from town to town, city to city, with only enough money to get you through each day.

You didn't have a home to call your own, so you often had to find small little nooks and crannies in backstreets and alleyways at night.

During the day, you offered super cheap portraits on the street. Some sinners scoffed and looked down at you, calling you all sorts of degrading names that you had never heard before. Meanwhile other sinners were so vain, demanding you capture their beauty to their unrealistic standards. But you gave them what they wanted, after all, beggars can't be choosers down here.

This same cycle repeated for many long years, until a few decades later, you found yourself slowly working for higher-profile clients, starting from a variety of store owners until you eventually had your first Overlord client commission you to make a large-scale magnificent portrait of them.

After this big break, you began to get more commissions from other Overlords, both big and small.

It was around this time, decades after your arrival to Hell, that you found yourself not starving anymore. You didn't have to worry about the day-to-day, and even though you could afford a really nice place even in a big city of one of the rings of hell, you chose to keep it more low-key and stayed in a small, humble apartment.

It was easy to relocate and take the bare minimum essentials and move onto the next town, city, or ring of Hell.

Even after many decades in Hell, you never forgot about the love of your life- Alastor.

It's why you chose to live in such a small apartment, with not many material belongings except for your work/art materials.

You made it easy to pick up and move because you were searching for Alastor all these years.

You didn't want to sound insulting, but you knew he had to end up in Hell too.

But it was hard to find one specific person in all of hell. After all, you knew you had to tread carefully. Names and connections hold a lot of power and reign supreme down here.

Unfortunately, this led you to a bunch of dead ends or nothing at all. Investigating wasn't really your strong suit, but you did your damn best.

As you were reminiscing the past, both of your life on Earth and in the years you've resided in Hell (which doubled or was even close to tripling the number of years as you lived on Earth at this point), you got up from your chair and decided it was time to pack up again.

One of your acquaintances that was a lackey to one of the Overlords in the area let you know that a turf war was going to happen soon, so you figured now was the time to pack up and make your way to the only ring of hell you hadn't been to- the Pride ring.

Given the nature of your business, you had a feeling business would be booming in the Pride ring. You had a feeling that the Pride ring would be your best bet to make connections and find any potential leads on where the love of your life would be.

However, every time you traveled into a new ring, you had to sneak in as unnoticed as possible because "sinners" aren't supposed to be able to travel freely between the rings of hell.

It was a wonder that you still had ownership over your own soul after all these years, especially considering you've done many commissions for high-profile demons and Overlords throughout almost all of the rings of hell at this point.

You sigh as you bring your hood over your head and leave your home with just a briefcase of art supplies once more.

-> Part 9

[kislnd]

something more - arthurtv~

synopsis: y/n comes back from a party leaving arthur jealous and a disagreement between them leads them to question where they really stand.

notes: ahhh this has been marinating in the drafts for way too long, i haven't written fics in such a long time, please forgive the quality & lmk if you liked it and want to see more!

warnings: slight angst, mentions of alcohol & hickeys

word count: 1.6k+

masterlist

y/n unlocked the door as quietly as she could manage, bracing herself for the loud click as she turned the key. slowly, she opened the door, again trying to avoid any noise. it was two in the morning, of course, and she didn't particularly want to wake up any of her housemates, especially with how busy they had been recently. she had been at a party, had some fun dancing, a couple of drinks but now she was tired, with the onset of a headache, and already regretting staying up this late.

"where have you been, y/n?" the familiar voice said in a low raspy mumble, causing y/n to nearly jump out of her skin.

"i was at that party i told you about before, and shush, you're shit at whispering" she shoots him a small smile, not that he could even see it due to the darkness engulfing the room, and turns to shut the door again trying to make minimal noise.

"oh right.." he trails off in thought, "don't you think you should have come home a bit earlier? we have to film early-ish tomorrow." usually y/n was so organised and rarely forgot anything but her appearance on arthur's channel (as per request by the viewers) had completely slipped her mind. a sober y/n would feel guilty and instantly apologise but with the alcohol coursing through her veins and clouding her mind, she began to laugh a little, "jeez alright mum, let me have a bit of fun", she grins, setting her bag down on the sofa and reaching over to turn on a lamp.

the soft orange glow illuminated the living room, allowing her to fully see arthur standing in the doorway wearing baggy trousers and a t-shirt with majorly messy hair. her heart jumped a little bit when she saw him, to say they were completely nothing would be a lie, she could swear they shamelessly flirted with each other, but it also hurt y/n a little to think that they weren't something either. a painful silence clung to the air, she could tell arthur wasn't best pleased with her. by now he would've already cracked a joke, an unfunny one, but one that would make them double over in laughter nevertheless.

"wow, you look a mess," y/n chuckles, taking in the sight and hoping to alleviate the awkwardness hanging over them.

"no shit sherlock," he folds his arms and raises his eyebrow, "you were the genius that woke me up," he adds, "and i could say the same for you,"

"shit." she curses under her breath, jogging towards the mirror above the fireplace.

"fair play," she continues after having seen the state she was in. an unfamiliar tinge of purple on her neck catches her eye, she brings her fingers up to it as a million questions circulate in her mind. when did i get this? what is it? is it even a hickey? did arthur notice?

"what are you doing?" arthur peeks his head further out of the doorway to inspect what y/n was doing. he spots the hickey and his mouth falls open, "or should i say who have you been doing?" y/n almost expected him to laugh at his own joke as he usually would but instead his expression remained unmoving. she swore she could see a glint of anger in his eyes but she couldn't be too sure. "i.." y/n starts, "i don't even remember," - to tell the truth, y/n had never been good at tolerating alcohol, it only took a few drinks to render the memories of the night hazy.

"whatever," arthur shot back, she could tell he was trying not to be too aggressive but there was still a hint of ice in his voice, perhaps even jealousy. "you don't have to believe me, i know i'm telling the truth and that's what counts," y/n immediately regrets saying that and winces, hoping she hadn't made him more angry. it was definitely a bad idea to be having a serious kind of talk after drinking, y/n wasn't sure she would be able to filter herself.

"y/n. i'm not dumb, i can see what that looks like and you're not good at lying,"

she sighs in defeat, it was so early in the morning and there was no need for an argument, she had already woken him up and this was sure to wake the rest of their housemates up, "okay...so let's say i do remember? what's it to you anyway?"

painstaking silence clung to the air as arthur tried to find his words. "i didn't-" she starts, trying to salvage what little words she could muster. "do you even like me?" is all he managed to say, genuine pain was laced in his tone. it's safe to say that y/n much preferred the silence.

"arthur-" she felt like crying, no, she was on the verge of crying, but she didn't dare show that. she knew that she was in the wrong, with forgetting about the shoot and now her stupid drunk words adding insult to injury, she had no right to cry. her mind raced with ways to fix it, she didn't want to cause another argument but equally, there was no reason to be arguing about such trivial things - she was not even his girlfriend.

"of course i like you but i thought we weren't anything." she starts, "we have been exclusively friends this entire time, you said that yourself."

"y/n. you know full well that isn't the case," his tone tainted with frustration. now y/n stood there, stunned. how could he mean one thing and say another? "listen to me, if that wasn't what you meant then why say it?" she folds her arms, "because i have never had any reason to believe we were more than friends."

"fine. i did say that, and i did mean it at a certain point," arthur pauses, carefully choosing his next words, "but now it's different."

"are you serious?" were the only words y/n found herself capable of saying.

"god y/n," arthur brings his hands to his eyes and rubs the sleep out of them in frustration, he begins to walk forward towards y/n, "can you really not tell?"

"tell what?" a small smile forms on her face, it was honestly comical that they were somehow having a deep conversation without her even understanding half of what arthur was saying. "remember, i'm drunk," she giggles.

"ah, i had forgotten how much of a lightweight you were," arthur chuckles, any awkwardness in the air had since gone and the original cosy atmosphere of their shared house returned, "i'll put it simply for you, drunk one-" he smiles and leads y/n over to the sofa, sitting her down and taking a seat by her side. "what i have been trying to say this whole time is that i want us to be more," y/n could feel arthur physically bracing himself for her reaction. "i see how it is," y/n's previously confused expressed had been replaced by a smug one, "you're jealous." she pokes her finger into his chest, "you're jealous because i might have a hickey from someone i don't even remember~" she smirks, putting on a singsong voice to emphasise her sheer enjoyment at this.

"yeah yeah, whatever helps you sleep at night." arthur rolls his eyes playfully, trying his hardest to push down any worries about it, and both of them laugh "but can you put me out of my misery here? do you feel the same?" y/n could tell that was a difficult question for arthur to ask but she didn't feel the answer was difficult at all, she knew it would be the one he wanted to hear. "of course silly," now she was sobering up she could be sure, sure about her feelings for arthur and sure about the 'hickey' on her neck. "and for the record, this hickey is just lipstick i think. i was dancing pretty closely with my friends before so," she brings her fingers up to her neck and swipes the area, sure enough, a purple-reddish residue remained stuck to her fingers.

arthur groaned, "oh my god." he sunk down into the sofa, praying it would swallow him up, "i can't believe i just confessed my love over that, god you must think i am such a loser." y/n giggled, "don't be embarrassed," she rested her back on the sofa to lie aligned with him, "you're cute when you're jealous." arthur was grateful for the dim lighting in the room, it helped mask the dusting of pink that was beginning to show on his cheeks. he swallowed thickly, "right. bed time i think," he stands abruptly, dragging y/n up with him, "we are filming tomorrow, remember?" now it was y/n's turn to groan, "i am so sorry about that," she said, referencing her earlier mistake.

instead of replying, arthur envelopes her in a warm hug, his entire body engulfing hers, like he had been waiting for this moment, for this different kind of intimacy knowing she was willing to be with him. "i can't believe you couldn't tell i liked you," she says smiling, her words muffled by his chest. "yeah well i was scared," arthur admits, "but i do promise to ask you out properly, like with flowers and stuff because this seems pretty pathetic." y/n hugs him tighter, "thank you," was the only thing she could say in the moment, she was feeling emotional but then again, everything was amplified by the remaining alcohol her body hadn't managed to process yet.

"let's get you watered, medicated and put to bed,"

"i feel fine now, like i could take on the world,"

"i do tend to have that effect on people," arthur grins, steering y/n in the direction of her bedroom.

[anamina0]

Echoes

Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV , Part V

Summary: It’s not her, you told yourself firmly, gripping the edge of the couch like it was the only thing keeping you upright. You’re overthinking. Imagining things.

Warnings/themes : fluff, kissing, very slight explicit content, mentions of weed

Word count: 5.6k

You jumped off the bar counter, landing on the worn wooden floor just as Vi tossed your dress at you with that lazy smirk you were starting to know all too well. You caught it mid-air, quickly slipping it over your head as the relentless banging on the door continued. “Shit,” you mumbled, fumbling to fix your hair, panic making your fingers clumsy. Behind you, Vi leaned against the counter, arms crossed over her chest, her head tilted slightly. A soft chuckle escaped her lips, and when you turned to glare at her, she looked utterly unbothered, her smirk growing wider. “What?” she teased, her tone playful.

You couldn’t help but laugh back, shaking your head as you opened the door, still smiling despite the chaos.

“I forgot my keys,” Revek said, standing in the doorway looking sheepish. His eyes darted between you and the room behind you, and it didn’t take long for him to piece together what he had interrupted. You rolled your eyes, stepping aside to let him in without a word. His gaze swept over the bar, the scattered glasses, the half-done cleanup job. He didn’t say anything, but his raised eyebrows said enough.

“Looks like someone got carried away with cleaning the bar,” Revek said sarcastically as he made his way to the back door.

“I think someone’s about to get fired,” Vi whispered, her voice low as she leaned in close to your ear. Her breath was warm against your skin, and you shoved her back with a laugh.

“Shut up,” you muttered, though you couldn’t stop the grin spreading across your face.

Vi bit her lip, clearly trying to hold back her laughter.

Revek returned, shaking his head as he headed toward the exit. “I was knocking for way too long,” he said, clearly unimpressed.

“Yeah, we got carried away,” Vi said, struggling to keep a straight face.

“Sure thing,” Revek replied flatly as he walked out the door, leaving the two of you alone once again.

The rest of the night was quieter, the kind of quiet that buzzed with unspoken words. You both worked on tidying the bar, though your focus wavered every time your eyes met hers. She’d glance at you from across the room, her lips curving into a soft smile, and your heart would skip a beat. You started bumping into her on purpose, brushing past her as she collected glasses from tables. Each time, her reaction was the same—a chuckle, followed by her hands on your waist, moving you aside like she was trying to tame a playful dance partner. Only this wasn’t dancing. This was something else entirely. Something you didn’t have the words for but could feel in every charged glance, every stolen moment. The walk home was no different. The streetlights cast a dim glow over the empty roads, and for the most part, the two of you walked in silence. But the tension between you was undeniable. Every so often, you’d glance at her, only to catch her already watching you. Neither of you said anything, but you’d smile, and she’d smile back, and those butterflies you tried to ignore would take flight all over again. When you finally reached the stairs to your apartments, she grabbed your hand, her fingers brushing yours in a way that made your breath catch. You stopped outside her door, but she didn’t let go.

“I can’t let you get home alone,” she said, her voice low and teasing, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips.

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through your chest. “I’m literally one floor up. I think I can manage.”

Her smirk softened into something sweeter, but she didn’t argue. She followed you up the stairs to your apartment, stopping just outside your door. You unlocked it and stepped inside, half-expecting her to follow. But when you turned around, she was still standing in the hallway, her eyes fixed on you with a warmth that made your heart ache. She stepped closer, her fingers brushing your cheek in the gentlest touch.

“I think that's it for today,” she murmured, her voice soft, almost hesitant.

You understood what she meant. She knew exactly how you felt—how scared you were of moving too fast, of losing yourself in something you weren’t ready for. She wasn’t rushing you, wasn’t pushing. She was just there, taking the steps with you, one at a time.

“It is,” you whispered, leaning into her touch as you closed your eyes. “I didn’t expect to end the night like this.”

She smiled, her thumb brushing over your skin. “Was it a bad ending?”

You shook your head, a soft laugh escaping you. “No. It was nice.”

Before you could stop yourself, you leaned in, pressing a kiss to her cheek, right where her tattoo curved along her skin. Her breath hitched, just for a moment, before her arms wrapped around you, pulling you close.

She buried her face in the crook of your neck, her warmth seeping into you as you melted into her embrace. You didn’t even try to stop yourself from hugging her back, inhaling her scent and committing it to memory.

“Thank you for understanding, Vi,” you mumbled, your voice thick with emotion. “You’re so… gentle.”

Her grip on you tightened, just for a second. “You’re worth it,” she said softly, her voice steady, sure.

When she finally let go, the warmth of her lingered, spreading through you long after she was gone. Butterflies still danced in your stomach as you closed the door, your mind replaying the night’s moments over and over again.

𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒

The café buzzed with quiet chatter, the occasional clink of cups and the hum of conversation blending into the background. You nudged Ellie with your shoulder, breaking her out of her silent thoughts.

“Well?” you asked, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “What do you think?”

Ellie tilted her head, her brows furrowed in thought as she hesitated. Finally, she muttered, “She seems… different.” She added a light shrug, clearly trying to keep the mood easy.

“Yeah, she is,” you said, standing up and grabbing your jacket. Ellie followed your lead, pulling on her own. “I remember when we first met. I was still working at that crappy arts and crafts store—God, I hated that place. She just walked in, looking so lost, like a freaking puppy.” You laughed at the memory, heading toward the door. Ellie trailed behind you, hands stuffed in her pockets, but her gaze stayed locked on you, her soft smile encouraging you to continue.

“I walked up to her to see if she needed help, but the second she started talking, her whole vibe changed. Like, her gaze—it just flipped. I swear, it was like I was talking to a completely different person. I’ve never seen anything like it.” The two of you exited the café, and as soon as the chill of the late afternoon air hit, Ellie slipped her hand into yours, her thumb brushing gentle circles against your skin as she listened.

“She started coming around more often,” you continued, your voice dipping slightly, “then one day, she invited me over. She showed me her drawings, and, well… one thing led to another.” You glanced at Ellie, her loving eyes catching yours, and you felt warmth spread through your chest. “Now she’s practically my best friend. Weirdest person I know, though. She’s got the craziest stories.” You laughed, the sound light and genuine, as the two of you made your way back to the apartment you shared.

The walk home was filled with comfortable silence, Ellie's hand never leaving yours. Every now and then, her thumb brushed against your knuckles, the subtle gesture grounding you in a way that made your heart flutter. When you finally reached the apartment, you pushed the door open, stepping inside and shrugging off your jacket. Ellie followed close behind, her boots thudding softly against the floor. As you caught sight of yourself in the hallway mirror, you frowned, noticing how messy your hair had gotten in the cold wind. Reaching up, you started fixing it, but as you adjusted a stray strand, you caught Ellie’s reflection behind you. She was watching you intently, her expression unreadable at first, but then her lips curved into a small, crooked smile. She stepped closer, her presence almost magnetic.

“You’re beautiful,” she murmured, her raspy voice sending a shiver down your spine. Before you could reply, she leaned in, pressing a soft kiss just beneath your ear.

“Mhm,” you managed, your voice catching in your throat. Her touch completely threw you off guard.

“You are,” she insisted, her lips trailing lower, planting feather-light kisses along the curve of your neck.

“Ellie…” you whispered, her name barely audible as your breath hitched. She didn’t stop. Her hands slid around your waist, nimble fingers slowly unzipping your jeans.

“Shhh,” she hushed, her voice low and commanding, sending another jolt of heat through you. Her hand slipped beneath the fabric of your panties, her fingers brushing against your already wet core, her touch electrifying.

𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒

“Shit.” The word slipped out as your eyes fluttered open. The morning light didn’t bother you as much as the realization of where your thoughts had gone. Her. Again. You dragged a hand across your face, hoping to wipe away the remnants of a dream you didn’t want to admit you’d had. It was her, always her. As if she’d carved out a permanent place in your mind, one she visited uninvited. But this time felt different. That familiar ache, the longing for her, seemed to be fading, replaced by something sharper. Anger. She had already wrecked your life once, shattered it like glass, leaving you to piece it back together alone. And now? Now, even from afar, she still managed to haunt you, to stir up chaos where you wanted peace. You clenched your jaw, wishing more than anything to tear her memory out of your head.

Especially now.

You thought of someone else—her. Someone new. Someone who had slipped into your life in a way you hadn’t expected. Someone who made you feel alive in ways you didn’t know you still could. She wasn’t perfect; far from it, actually. Infuriating at times, quick with sharp, sarcastic remarks . She could be reckless, explosive, and maddening. But there was something about her—something raw and honest.

And beautiful.

God, she was beautiful.

Her face crept into your mind, unbidden. Light blue eyes, piercing and electric, capable of softening in rare, quiet moments. The curve of her nose, the strong lines of her jaw, and those tattoos that seemed to tell a story you were desperate to understand. Her muscles—lean and powerful—moved like they carried the weight of the world. And when she touched you. Even a fleeting brush of her hand seemed to burn itself into your skin, leaving you breathless.You shook your head, catching yourself smiling like an idiot.

“SHIT,” you muttered again, this time with more exasperation than frustration. It was ridiculous, the whole thing. A mess of feelings tangled up in someone who was so far from uncomplicated. The sharp scrape of a chair against the floor grounded you, breaking the trance. You pushed yourself out of bed and headed for the kitchen, trying to shake off the lingering thoughts. As you cracked eggs into a pan, the irony of it all hit you. Here you were, trying to rebuild your life, to move forward. And yet, your mind was still a battleground. One ghost wouldn’t leave, and another figure—a very real one—was taking up more and more space every day.

All day at work, your mind refused to stay in the present. Every time you wiped down a table or carried a tray, your thoughts drifted back to her—to Vi. Last night’s moments played over and over again, a mix of warmth and uncertainty stirring in your chest. But one thing was clear: it was your turn now. She’d been so gentle with you, so careful, and all you wanted was to show her the same. She deserved to know how much you wanted this… whatever this was.

On your way home, you stopped at the corner market, grabbing a few sweets that caught your eye. It wasn’t much, but it felt like a start. You clutched the bag tightly as you walked to her apartment, your steps slowing the closer you got. And then you were standing in front of her door, heart pounding in your chest.

You hesitated.

What if this was a mistake? What if you were pushing too much, too soon? But then you thought of her, the way she smiled at you, the way she held you so gently last night, like you were something precious. You couldn’t back out now. Taking a deep breath, you knocked softly, just a few taps, as if testing the waters.

You waited. Nothing.

Biting your lip, you knocked again, this time louder. Still, no answer. The silence in the hallway felt deafening, pressing down on you like a weight.

“Maybe she’s not home,” you mumbled to yourself, backing away slowly. But as you turned to head to your own apartment, the doubts crept in.

What if she was home and just didn’t want to see you? What if she regretted last night? What if she thought this was a mistake? Maybe you scared her off. Or worse, maybe she was at some bar with another girl, someone less complicated, someone who wasn’t as broken as you were. You slammed your apartment door shut behind you, leaning against it as your chest tightened. The thoughts wouldn’t stop.

“Why would she want someone like me?” you muttered, pacing the room. “Why would anyone want to deal with all this? broken pieces of what could be a person"

The panic bubbled up inside you, threatening to spill over. You couldn’t take it anymore—the overthinking, the fear, the ache in your chest. You needed to calm down. Then you remembered the stash of weed tucked away in your drawer. It wasn’t much, but it would help take the edge off.

Minutes later, you were on the couch, the soft glow of the lamp the only light in the room. The smoke swirled around you, the quiet hum of your breath the only sound. You took a long puff, then another, letting the haze settle over you like a blanket. Your racing thoughts began to slow, blurring together until they were almost incoherent.

But still, glimpses of her snuck through the fog. Her face, her laugh, her touch—they lingered, like a faint melody you couldn’t shake. You reached for the bag of sweets, unwrapping one and popping it into your mouth.

“You don’t even know if she likes these,” you muttered, scoffing at yourself. “Why would you buy something you’re not even sure she’d want?” You grabbed another, chewing absentmindedly as your thoughts drifted. “What does she like?” you wondered aloud. “Street food, probably. She seems like the kind of person who’d get fries from a truck at 2 a.m. And blue… she’d like blue. It suits her.” You smiled to yourself, thinking of her tattoos, her strong hands, the way her voice softened when she spoke to you. “She probably loves boxing. She’d be amazing at it,” you mused, picturing her in the ring, confident and unstoppable.

And then the knock came. It was soft but deliberate, pulling you from your thoughts instantly. Your heart leapt in your chest as you sat up, the bag of sweets tumbling to the floor. For a moment, you just stared at the door, frozen.

Could it be her?

You stood, your legs unsteady as you walked over. Slowly, you opened the door, and there she was. Vi stood in the hallway, her hair slightly messy, her hands shoved into her jacket pockets. Her lips curved into a small, knowing smile when she saw you, her light blue eyes flicking down to the bag of sweets on the floor.

“Hey,” she said, her voice low and warm.

“I knocked like 5 times.”

You blinked, your mind struggling to catch up. “I—uh—didn’t hear it,” you stammered, stepping aside to let her in.

Vi glanced around your apartment as she walked in, her presence immediately filling the space. She noticed the faint smell of smoke lingering in the air and raised an eyebrow. “Rough day?”

You nodded, biting your lip. “Something like that.”

Her gaze softened as she stepped closer, her hands coming to rest on your shoulders. “You okay?”

The concern in her voice made your chest tighten, and suddenly, everything you’d been feeling threatened to spill out. But instead, you just nodded, swallowing hard.

“I, uh… I brought these for you,” you said, gesturing to the sweets on the floor. “I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I just… guessed.”

Vi crouched down, picking up the bag. She pulled out one of the candies, inspecting it with a small smile before popping it into her mouth. “Not bad,” she said, her voice light. “But next time, just ask me.”

“Next time?” you echoed, your heart skipping a beat.

She grinned, her hands sliding down to take yours. “Yeah, next time. I’m not going anywhere.” And just like that, the doubts, the fears, the panic—it all faded away. Standing there with her, her hands warm against yours, you felt the butterflies return, fluttering wildly in your chest. The room felt like it was spinning, the world soft and blurry from how high you were. You slouched back into the couch, your limbs heavy, your head tilting lazily as you looked at her. She stood near the window, her face lit by the faint streetlights outside.

“I mean, you have to smoke,” you mumbled, your voice sluggish but steady. You waved vaguely toward her. “I can’t be alone like this.”

Her laugh was soft, but it had that playful edge that made you focus on her. She walked over, slow and calm, like nothing in the world could rush her.

"I don’t mind,” she said, sliding onto the couch beside you. She reached over to the ashtray, plucking the joint sitting there, and with a spark of her lighter, took a long drag. Her exhale drifted through the room, curling into the air between you two. The moment felt still, almost too quiet.

“I thought you were ignoring me,” you blurted suddenly, a mix of nerves and blunt honesty spilling out before you could stop yourself.

She glanced at you, that smirk pulling at her lips. “I wasn’t,” she said, shaking her head. “I was just… helping a friend with something.”

“You’re always so secretive,” you said, turning to face her more. She didn’t reply, not right away. Instead, she grabbed the bag of candies , tossing one into her mouth casually. Her cheek puffed out just slightly as she chewed, the moment annoyingly nonchalant.

“You’re sharing something,” you mocked her lightly, narrowing your eyes. “And then you go right back to being mysterious again. Typical.”

She smirked, her eyes gleaming with mischief as she popped another candy into her mouth. “Thought you said these were ’just okay.’”

Her words made you laugh, and it almost annoyed you how easily she got under your skin.

“You’re funny. I’ll give you that,” she said, turning slightly to face you now, her grin still faint but there.

“Oh yeah?” you leaned in just a little, the playful teasing in your tone impossible to hide. “What else am I?”

She tilted her head like she was actually thinking about it, but there was something sharp behind her smile.

“You’re kinda annoying sometimes,” she said, with that pretend innocence that had your stomach twisting. “Like, you have to be in control of everything happening around you.” She paused, as if adding more weight to her words. “And, you can be infuriating—actually unbearable sometimes.”

You scoffed, pretending to be offended, but before you could fire back, she continued, her voice softening in a way that made your chest feel tight.

“But,” she said, her tone lower now, more serious, “you’re really smart. You don’t miss anything. Like, you can read people—read me—before I even realize what I’m feeling.” Her eyes flicked to yours, lingering a moment too long. “It’s… sexy.”

You couldn’t speak. Her words, the way she looked at you, the softness in her voice—it left you frozen, but also craving more.

“And you’re brave,” she continued, leaning in slightly. “Brave in that reckless, impossible way. You never back down. No matter what’s in front of you.” There was something raw in the way she said it, something that hit deeper than you expected.

Her hand drifted to the couch, brushing close to yours but not quite touching. Her eyes dropped, lingering on your lips as her voice softened even more.

“And you’re beautiful,” she whispered.

Her words made your heart pound. You couldn’t stop yourself anymore—not after hearing all that. Slowly, carefully, you leaned in, closing the small space between you until your lips brushed hers.She didn’t pull away. She leaned into you, letting the kiss grow deeper. Your lips moved together slowly, each touch more electric than the last, her breath soft against your skin. When you finally pulled back, it was just an inch, but enough to make her lean forward like she didn’t want the kiss to end.

“You ignored what I said,” you teased, voice low, barely above a mumble.

She let out a shaky breath, clearly thrown by the moment. “Fine,” she said, her voice quiet but steady now. “Ask me anything you want.”Maybe it was the high. Maybe it was the warmth of her body next to yours. Whatever it was, the words came out before you had a chance to second-guess them.

“Who’s Cait?”

Her whole body stiffened, and for a second, you thought she wouldn’t answer. But then, she turned to you, her expression carefully unreadable.

“Only girl I’ve ever loved before,” she admitted, her voice soft but clear.

“Your ex?” you asked, trying to add a playful edge to lighten things. “Tell me she’s your ex.”

She gave a short laugh, but it sounded a little off. “We weren’t actually together,” she said, almost like she was ashamed of it.

“Oh, damn,” you muttered, blinking in surprise. “Ouch. That must’ve hurt. What happened? Let me guess—she was in love with someone else or something?”

Her eyes flicked to the floor, and she sighed before answering. “How do I even say this?” Her voice was quieter now, almost hesitant. “She… she got me out of prison.”

Your jaw dropped. “Prison?! Wait, hold up. You were in prison?”

She let out a faint laugh, the corner of her mouth twitching. “For eight years.”

“EIGHT YEARS?! When—how—what the hell?” You sat up straighter, the words spilling out in disbelief.

“I was fifteen when I got there,” she said with a shrug, like it wasn’t a big deal.

You stared at her, trying to piece it all together. “Wait, hold on. You’ve been in prison since you were a kid? What even happened?”

She shook her head slightly, a faint smile tugging at her lips. “I’ll tell you everything. But not now, later,” she said firmly. Then, her voice dropped, just slightly teasing. “It’s my turn now anyway.”

You felt your stomach twist as her gaze turned sharp again. You already knew what was coming.

“Who’s Ellie?” she asked.

Your breath caught in your throat. You stared at her, the question hitting deeper than you wanted to admit.

“Stealing my question , huh?” you joked weakly, trying to stall. But the look in her eyes said she wasn’t letting it go.

“She’s the only girl I’ve ever loved,” you admitted finally. Your voice sounded strange to your own ears, raw and vulnerable.

“And?” she pressed gently.

“We were together for three years. Then, one day, she just… left.” You paused, swallowing hard. “She packed her bags while I was at work and just walked out. No goodbye. No explanation.” You hesitated before continuing. “She… left me wondering what I did wrong. And here I am.”

You stopped, glancing up at her. Her eyes were soft, and there was something in the way she looked at you that made you feel like the pieces of you might actually be okay one day.But before you could get lost in the moment, you asked what was burning at the edge of your thoughts. “Why was Cait looking for your sister?”

The question made her freeze again. She looked away for a moment, as though gathering herself. And then, she started to talk. Her story came out slowly, piece by piece. She told you everything—about Cait, her sister, and the impossible choices she had to make. It was one of the wildest, saddest, and most intense stories you’d ever heard. And yet, as she spoke, something deep in your chest began to stir. There was something about her story, it was like you heard it somewhere else, but couldn't quite gather where.

𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒

“I always had a feeling she couldn’t be trusted,” she mumbled, her raspy voice carrying just enough weight to make you glance her way. She was lounging in her usual devil-may-care style, legs stretched out, boots resting obnoxiously on the table.

“Well, I can’t say the same thing about me,” you muttered with a sarcastic chuckle, though the sadness in your voice betrayed you. You weren’t exactly hiding it well.

“Tell me about it,” she quipped, leaning back even further in her chair as if the entire world bored her. Her smirk was infuriating, her tone always teetering between teasing and dismissive. “So, what now? You gonna sit at home all day, dreaming about what could’ve been? Scribble some tragic poetry, maybe cry a little?”

“Shut up, Faye,” you groaned, shoving her boots off the table with a little more force than necessary. She stumbled slightly. She could be impossible, always in her own chaotic orbit, dragging you into her storms. But she was your best friend—your only friend—and that meant you put up with her.

“Go ahead, take it all out on me,” she said, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Like I’m the one who broke your heart and left you in pieces.” She reached for something random on the table, fiddling with it, probably just to keep herself entertained. Then, with a flicker of mischief in her eyes, she added, “Want me to mess her up? Like, real bad? I could do that, you know.”

“What? No!” You snapped your head toward her, heart skipping a beat because, knowing Faye, she wasn't bluffing. “Don’t you dare! I mean it.”

“Sheesh, relax,” she said with a lazy grin, waving you off like your concern was completely unwarranted. “I was just joking.” She paused, giving you a sideways glance. “Mostly.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. Faye was… Faye. Beneath all her reckless bravado and endless sarcasm, you knew she cared. She just had a strange way of showing it.

After a beat of silence, she spoke again, her tone softer this time, less guarded. “Maybe you should do what I did,” she said suddenly, leaning forward just a little. “Get out of this place. Have a fresh start. Forget all the crap tying you down.”

You exhaled deeply, her words hitting a nerve. The thought of leaving—leaving the chaos, leaving her—had crossed your mind more times than you could count. It sounded good, too good. But there was always the same question gnawing at you.

“Where am I supposed to go, though?” you asked quietly, sitting across from her now. Your gaze met hers, searching for some kind of answer. For once, she didn’t shoot back a quip or a smirk. Instead, her eyes dropped as she tucked a strand of her blue hair behind her ear.

“You could go to Zaun,” she murmured, almost like the name itself was a forbidden word.

Your eyebrows shot up. “Zaun? You’ve got to be kidding me. I know next to nothing about that place.”

“You know plenty,” she countered, a bit of her usual sharpness returning. “I’ve told you, like, a billion stories about it. More than enough to survive there.”

You hesitated " Maybe you can come with me" you mumbled

" I can’t go with you.”

“Why not?” you pressed, the idea of dragging Faye along suddenly sparking something hopeful in you. “You said you left some people behind there, like your—”

“Don’t,” she interrupted sharply, her voice hard enough to make you stop mid-sentence.

She stood up abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. “I can’t go back there,” she said, her tone now angry, maybe even hurt. “I’m better off without Zaun. And Zaun’s better off without me.”

You stared at her, confused and a little stunned. She stepped closer, her expression more serious than you’d ever seen.

“If you decide to go,” she said, her voice low but steady, “you have to promise me something.”

You blinked, unsure where this was headed. “What?”

"You can’t tell anyone about me,” she said, her words almost a whisper now, but they carried the weight of a thousand unspoken things. “Not a single soul. You have to promise me that.” Her eyes locked onto yours, and for the first time, you saw something raw in them—fear, maybe? Or regret? Either way, you nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“I promise,” you said, though you weren’t entirely sure who you were promising to protect—Faye, or yourself.

𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒

“You okay?” Vi’s voice pulled you out of your swirling thoughts. It was soft, but it struck like a jolt to your system. Your heart skipped a beat as your brain scrambled, clinging to distant memories that shouldn’t have been there.

It can’t be right, you thought. No, it can’t.

“Hey?” Vi said again, and this time her hand grazed yours. The small gesture made you flinch slightly, but it also tethered you to the present.Her brows knitted together, “Did I say something wrong?” Her voice had a slight edge of worry now, and that only made the heavy knot in your chest tighten further. You forced yourself to breathe, to focus, blinking a few times before your eyes finally met hers. Her worried expression only made your heart sink deeper.

“I’m…” You paused, the lump in your throat stubborn and unyielding. “I’m okay,” you lied, quickly pressing a fake smile onto your lips like armor.

She didn’t look convinced. Not even a little.

“I just need a glass of water,” you muttered, avoiding her eyes.

Before you could get up, Vi stood quickly, not hesitating for even a second. “Wait, I’ll get it,” she offered, already making her way to the kitchen. You stayed frozen, your body heavy against the couch. The sound of running water trickled through the quiet space, but your thoughts drowned it out completely.

It’s not her, you told yourself firmly, gripping the edge of the couch like it was the only thing keeping you upright. You’re overthinking. Imagining things.

“Here.”

Her voice sliced through the chaos in your head like a razor. You looked up just as she handed you the glass of water, her expression softer than you’d expected.

Vi tilted her head slightly, studying you like she was trying to solve a puzzle she didn’t understand. Her lips parted, as if she was about to say something, but instead, she stepped back, leaning against the side of the couch with her arms crossed.

“You sure you’re okay?” she asked again.

You nodded too quickly, taking a sip of water even though your hands were unsteady. “Yeah, totally fine,” you said, trying to sound casual.

But Vi didn’t buy it. Not even a little. Her eyes stayed locked on yours, intense and searching, and it made your pulse quicken.

“You’re a terrible liar, y’know,” she finally said, her tone laced with that same mix of teasing and concern she always seemed to master.

“I’m not lying,” you shot back, but even to your own ears, it sounded unconvincing.

Vi arched a brow, leaning slightly closer. “Right. And I’m the queen of Piltover,” she said, smirking faintly.

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped your lips, even if it was half-hearted.

The humor faded as quickly as it came, and her smirk softened, her head tilting as she studied you. “You were out of it for a second there,” she said. Her voice dropped, softer now. “What happened? What were you thinking about?”

Her question caught you off guard. You stared at her, the words building in your throat but refusing to come out.

“I just…” You hesitated, your grip tightening on the glass. “It’s nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing,” she pressed gently, her gaze steady. “You don’t just zone out like that for no reason. If it’s not nothing, just tell me.”

You looked down at the water, watching the small ripples sway as your hands trembled faintly.

" it's nothing Vi, really " you lied once agin

Vi raised a brow but didn’t push. You looked at her again, studying the quiet strength in her expression, the way she was watching you so carefully. She didn’t look annoyed or impatient—she looked like she genuinely cared.

And that only made the storm in your chest worse.

Author's note: I'm not saying anything... just waiting for YOUR RESPONSE 👀Don't hesitate to message me, we can talk about it.

P.S. next chapters might take longer because I kind of wrote them before hand, I was just adding details, plus I had free time. I know where story is goinh but, writing such long fic is hard , so I might take a longer, I don't know for sure. But your response has been nothing but amazing! seriously , thank you anyone wro reads, comments, shares my story. your support means world!

[p0rk-guts]

Velvette if she served cunt

Design breakdown below 👇🏾(BEWARE IT'S VERY LONG)

Alright going into detail about my gripes and edits. Like Velvette but her design is just. Not good to me. None of her (main) outfit details look like they fit to me— pinstripe pants + long fur coat paired with black crop top and scene sleeves? Skull earrings? TINKERBELL HEELS????? Tell me how any of that meshes well or even makes SENSE for the social media influencer persona she's supposed to have going on. Now that I think about it I'm pretty sure she's supposed to be clown themed... But I'm just gonna toss that idea out bc being a revered social media influencer and a clown at the same time just seems a bit oxymoronic to me, and the "clown" details aren't adding shit for me.

And don't think I forgot about her features. Pale ash grey skin and wavy hair at best. If she was supposed to be some type of creature where a nonhuman skin tone would make sense then maybe I could let it go?? But as far as I can tell she doesn't have an object or creature or animal theme like the other V's and if she does I shouldn't need to do detective work to figure it out. There is no reason for *any* of these poc characters to have grey skin, especially since they don't have any other poc features at all.

Sorry that shit gets me heated anyways. Onto my redesign. Gave her a more obviously black skin tone and textured hair bc I love a 30 inch buss down as much as the next girl but considering how there are no significant poc cast members with visibly textured hair I think she deserves to flaunt some coils if no one else will.

Ngl I'm not. A fashion girlie. Idk what's trendy idk what screams "influencer" so a lot of this was just throwing shit at the wall that I've seen around recently but it looks cute enough to me. And there was a bit of inspiration taken from Aliyahcore and ghetto fabulous fashion ❤️

If you can't tell this is shamefully inspired by lovesart23's Velvette reimagining because imo they had some outstanding ideas for Vel. I low-key stole their idea for those floating eyes in her hair that follow her around and help her keep tabs on shit it was just a superb idea for a social media overlord to me. I also took some inspo from @furbtasticworksofart 's redesign because vampire influencer sucking up the souls of her followers in exchange for content??? Too good (also the eyes were supposed to have bat/vamp wings I just forgot 😭) So yeah she's a vampire demon now. Without the features she was looking too human anyhow. Maybe she also feeds off of the energy of her followers through tech like after Vox mind controls them or whatever... Idk idk is that anything

Speaking of Vox, the screen glasses are meant to connect her to him w/ their color and shape while serving the purpose of being like a second phone she can post and check the web with. Like lovesart said in their reimagining vid, Vel doesn't really do more than pose for selfies and scroll on her phone when it comes to social media so in my head she's constantly flipping her shades on and off, using them to scroll and stay active, and they can show when she's not paying attention or respect to something/someone bc scrolling is more worth her time in the moment.

The hearts everywhere are also supposed to kinda represent social media likes + connect her back to Val w/ his heart patterns. That might've been what the hearts in her og design were for but. I just didn't like their placement bc I'm a nitpicker and a hater❕

I have so much more I could say about possible ideas for Velvette because I love evil black girls and I only want them to succeed in my media and I could treat her so much BETTER but I'll refrain bc this is way too long anyway.

Alright for reading/scrolling through all that rambling I offer you the sketches + some alt hair ideas I had

P.S. I'm very open to constructive criticism but if I see anyone just dick riding in my replies or rb's I'm just blocking you on sight ✌🏾

[aviiarie]

˚ ₊ ‧ ♡ HAUNTED HOUSE — feat. lyney event masterlist.

synopsis. your new house is a bit strange. doors keep slamming, there's whispering in your ears, and you have the distinct feeling you're unwelcome here. warnings. none (?) notes. requested by anon. ghost!lyney au. gn!reader. 2.2k words. IM SORRY THIS IS LATE. i was busy and forgot :((

“Four bedrooms, two bathrooms—not including an ensuite in the master bedroom—and a very large garden. There’s a lake towards the south of the property, and it is within walking distance of the local town.” The real estate agent flashed you a dazzling smile. “This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Houses of this quality aren’t typically offered at this price.”

You looked around, admiring the delicate architecture. The paint might have been peeling in some places, but the arched windows and carved pillars gave the place a timeless and elegant atmosphere. With a little fixing, the house would return to its former glory in no time.

“Why is it priced so low, then?”

“While it is still in good condition, the house will require a lot of upkeep. There are renovations and repairs that need to be done, but nothing that isn’t salvageable.” The woman explained.

The reasoning wasn’t unplausible, but it still didn’t sit quite right with you.

“Is there not any other reason?” You pressed further. “You told me there weren’t any other buyers lined up. Why is that?”

Her smile dropped minutely, and her hands clutched her clipboard tighter. “I-I suppose that would be the fault of its… um, reputation.”

“Reputation?” You frowned.

“Oh, just silly rumours. It’s nothing to be concerned about, but the townsfolk are a superstitious lot.” She replaced her smile, gesturing to the front door. “Shall we look at the interior now?”

-----

It wasn’t a difficult decision to make. She was right, it was an unmissable opportunity; there wasn’t a chance that you were going to find a house as nice as this one on a budget as tight as yours.

You moved in over the weekend, settling all of your belongings in the spacious, already furnished rooms. The inside of the house was just as pleasant as the exterior, filled with expensive-looking furniture covered with dusty sheets, and hanging chandeliers that cast a warm glow over every room. Even the gardens, covered in dead leaves and debris, were oddly quaint.

It was perfect, almost too perfect.

“Mail… got to check the mail…” You muttered, fumbling for the key to the mailbox. It was your third day, and you had already almost fully settled in. Most of your possessions were out of their boxes, and almost all of the rooms had been cleaned and dusted.

When you opened your door, there was a woman stood on your porch, staring up at the house with a melancholic expression. She looked much older than you—in her fifties, perhaps—with ash-blonde hair streaked with gray, violet eyes and pale, wrinkled skin. On her left cheek was a faint, star-shaped mark, like a tattoo that had long-since faded.

“So, it’s true…” The woman murmured, eyeing you up and down. “They finally sold the place…”

“Can I help you?” You asked hesitantly. She stared at you for a long time, before shaking her head.

“No… just reminiscing.” She straightened up, pulling her cardigan tighter around herself. “Good luck. He is fickle, but not unreasonable. I hope for your sake you are able to reason with him.”

Bewildered, you watched as she shuffled back down the street into the direction of the town. Her words made no sense, but her tone was enough to make you uneasy. The way she spoke of a ‘him’ made it sound like there was someone for you to be wary of, a hidden face to fear.

When you made it to the mailbox, it took a few turns of the key for the lock to click open. You peered through the slot, fishing out a flyer, two letters, and a folded piece of paper shoved into the corner of the box. The flyer was a promotion for a new pizza shop downtown, the letters were both bills, but the last item caught your attention most of all.

Tucking the others under your arm, you unfolded the note. The paper was fragile, almost crumbling under your fingers, but you managed to pull it open anyway to reveal an old advertisement that looked to be cut out of a newspaper.

Lyney & Lynette’s Magic Show. The title was printed above a cartoon drawing of two magicians, with one holding a large top hat and the other pulling a rabbit out of it. At the bottom, in much smaller text, was the date of the performance: February 2nd, 1985.

Despite being decades old, the advertisement was still intact and fully readable, even if the colours were slightly faded. And yet, as you moved your hand, you noticed a smudge of black on your fingers.

You flipped the paper. On the back there was a simple message, scrawled in fresh black ink: GET OUT OF MY HOUSE.

-----

The note should have been your first sign to leave, you didn’t pay it much mind. Instead, you crumpled the paper up and threw it in the garbage bin outside, chalking it up to some kid trying to play a trick on their new neighbour.

You had more important matters to concern yourself with, namely the attic that you had yet to clean. It was filled from top to bottom with enough dust to make you cough and splutter as soon as you opened the trapdoor. Still, you pushed forward, covering your mouth with a cloth as you cleaned away the dusty furniture and boxes that were stacked along the side.

Leaning against the attic window was what looked like a frame, half-covered in another white cloth. With a gentle tug, the fabric was pulled free to reveal an oil painting, depicting a family portrait. There were four figures, a tall woman with white hair and sharp eyes, a young boy with a blonde bob and grave expression, and a pair of slightly older children with matching ash-blonde hair.

The dust covering the frame was twice as thick as the rest of the attic, as if the painting hadn’t been touched in decades. With the fabric shielding the family from view, it was as if whoever lived in the house previously had hidden them away, out of sight.

Absently, you stretched out a hand, intending on wiping away some of the dust with your fingertips.

Crack.

The sudden noise made you jump, pulling your hand back to your chest. With a pounding heart, you looked over to where a floor-length mirror, one that was leaned against the wall only five minutes prior, had fallen onto the floor and shattered to pieces.

“No!” You hissed, leaping to your feet. You hurried down the ladder to grab a garbage bag and broom from the kitchen, returning to sweep up the broken glass and quickly dispose of it.

In your rush, you never noticed that the oil painting had been covered up with a cloth once more.

-----

After that, the strangeness kept adding up.

Doors slammed at random times of the day, glasses shattered in your hands before you could take a sip of your water, whispers sounded from the corner of your room in the middle of the night. You couldn’t keep telling yourself you were overthinking things, not when the signs were so clear.

Whatever apparition was haunting your house, you could sense how unwelcoming it was to your presence. There was an anger that hung in the air, as if it resented you for simply being there. It didn’t seem as though it was trying to harm you—not directly, at least—but it was clear that it was hell-bent on driving you out. When scaring you didn’t work, it seemed to redirect its strategy to irritating you instead.

One morning, you woke up to find all your left socks missing. With a scowl, you put on a mismatched pair and walked to the store to buy several new pairs.

The next day, all of the furniture in the living room had mysteriously moved to the bathroom, including the television. Unfazed, you simply curled up on the armchair and watched your favourite show right there.

That same night, you stumbled out of your room to pour yourself a glass of water, only to realize that the cups and glasses were stacked on top of the refrigerator. You didn’t even bother to drag a chair over to retrieve them, you just found a decorative teacup out of the display cabinet, and sipped your water out of that.

It was persistent, but unlucky for it, you were stubborn. This was your house now, and you weren’t going to let some ghost scare you off.

The final straw came when you were relaxing by the fire, reading a book. It was a long day at your new job, and coming home to a warm house was a dream come true. But you had barely opened up your book when all of the lights above you flicked off, and the fireplace was suddenly snuffed out.

The room was plunged into a thick darkness, and your precious warmth was stolen away, making you shiver. Something inside you snapped, and the annoyance you’d built up over the past month finally made you crack.

“That’s it!” You shut your book with a click, slamming it down on the table.

You stood, scanning the darkened room. The shadows of the furniture loomed across the walls, twisting into ominous shapes by the moonlight spilling through the blinds. “I know for a fact you’re here, so listen. I don’t care what vendetta you have against me, but this needs to stop. I’m not going anywhere, this is my house now.”

There was long pause, before you spoke again. “You can hate me as much as you want, but I am not going to let you push me around.”

You glance around, waiting for some shift in the shadows, some sign that the spectre was hearing what you were saying. “Am I clear?”

The room fell into quiet again. It stretched on for what felt like hours, leaving you wondering if there truly wasn’t anything there at all, and whether it was just your paranoia getting to you again. The air was thick and tense, the only sound being the distant ticking of a clock from another room.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.

Finally, a voice cut through the silence. “…It is my house, actually.”

Your head snapped to the side, finding the faint, flickering image of a man sitting on the side of the couch with his arms crossed. He looked young, in his early twenties at the oldest, and was dressed in some sort of stage costume. On his cheek was a small teardrop marking, standing out against his pale face.

“Who are you?” You blurted out before you could stop yourself.

“Should I not be asking you that question?” The man raised an eyebrow, annoyance etched across his expression. “Considering you are the one who is trespassing on my property?”

“It’s not your property if you’re dead.” You said bluntly, internally wincing at how insensitive it sounded. Still, knowing how much he had put you through halted any pity you felt for him. “I bought this house, therefore it's mine.”

“It is mine.” His eyes narrowed. “I lived here for years. If it is not mine, it is my brother’s or my sister’s. You are neither of those people, so you are not welcome here.”

“Clearly neither of them want it, or else they’d already be here.” You countered. “I’m living here now. You’re going to have to get used to it.”

He glared at you. The edges of his image blurred and wavered, becoming indistinct. “That’s easy for you to say. Do you know how frustrating it is, having a stranger barge into your home? Having them rearrange your furniture, disturb your belongings? Sure, I’ll get used to you sifting through my family’s heirlooms and tossing them aside like they’re nothing. I’ll get used to it all.”

The anger in his voice didn't hide the trace of pain behind his words. He was clearly just frustrated, and you couldn't exactly blame him.

“Look, I’m sorry,” You sighed, shoulders slumping. “I know… I know it must be hard for you. And...”

You chew the inside of your cheek in thought, looking away from him to observe the empty fireplace. There were still embers flickering at the bottom, even after the flames had been extinguished.

“We don’t have to be friends,” You turned back to him, smiling hesitantly. “How about you consider me your… roommate?”

The man stared at you unblinkingly. The proposition looked like it offended him just as much as the idea of giving up his house did, but there was something else that you couldn't quite figure out in his expression.

Was it... loneliness?

It made sense, in a way. Being trapped for however long since he'd died, without another soul to accompany him, loneliness was inevitable. You could only imagine how he felt, holing himself up in his house and lashing out at anyone who dared to disturb him. Even with the anger clouding his face, there was still a longing in his gaze at your proposal.

“A fresh start then.” He broke out into a sharp, painfully fake smile, and held out his hand in offering. “My name is Lyney. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

🏷️ taglist: @tragedy-of-commons, @mollzaj, @wystiix, @mikashisus.

© aviiarie 2024. do not copy, repost, translate or use my work to train ai

[8ttached]

"she's a real gem huh?"

pairings - (possessive) Fontaine x blk reader

warnings - (18+ smut, minors dni!!) not proof read, car sex (dont know if I would consider this as public sex since it's in an empty parking lot but you have been warned!!), aave, use of the n word, make-up sex

authors note - heyy I've been so caught up with other shit that i almost forgot about Tumblr but i finally whipped something up after weeks of writers block but i hope you guys enjoy!!!

word count - 946

(reblogs and comments are most definitely appreciated!! )

possessive Fontaine 

You always knew Fontaine was the possessive type. Not the loud “yells at anyone who stares at you” kind of possessive. But the “I know I'm lucky” possessive. The type to plant hickeys all over your neck for other niggas to see when they're talking to you. he gets a kick outta the ones who stare at them for too long

You were at the bar with yoyo and slick. Fontaine decided not to go since in his words “he got other shit to do.” your main plan was to stick together incase some weird shit happens but after a few drinks that plan was dropped. Yoyo was dancing while slick was god knows where and now you’re chopping it up with some nigga that claimed to “know you from way back.”

“Yeah, you haven't changed a bit! Same eyes as your mama” the older man said. You laughed nervously as you looked around the atmosphere. The guy began to compliment you again and again. Comments like “you look just like ya mama” and “you've gotten so grown” made your skin crawl.

You look at your phone checking the time, but you ended up seeing missed calls from Fontaine. not just one, but Multiple. You looked around looking for Yoyo and slick knowing that if Fontaine called multiple times, it was something serious. 

The older man's words suddenly turned into mumbles as you looked around seeing Slick and Yoyo nowhere in sight. You look down at your phone worried as you start to call Fontaine but something stops you. The older male said something as you weren't paying attention and a tall broad man stood behind you. 

“Yeah, she's a real gem huh?” he agreed.

The dark male's voice sent chills down your spine causing you to turn your shoulders, face to face with your boyfriend. Fontaine didn't say anything to you. His low-lidded eyes said more than enough. As you walked outside you remembered Slick and Yoyo were still in the club. Or so you thought.

“What about yoyo and-”

“They left.” 

Fontaine didn't look at you. His hands in his pockets, eye facing straight ahead, it all worried you. But what worried you most was Yoyo and Slick leaving you at the club knowing what could have happened. Especially with the weirdo you were talking to. 

You both get into his car. As you look down on your lap you feel a heavy shake from Fontaines side of the car. You smack your thick lips. “Damn nigga you ain't needa slam the door that hard.” but he didn't say anything, let alone look at you. He was giving you the cold shoulder. 

 “..taine” cold shoulder again. You sigh deeply. The car ride home was quiet

Fontaine set the car to park and took his key out the car. Before he could open the door you grab his shoulder. “Fuck you touching me for?’ he mumbles. “Fontaine it wasn't what it looked like” Your hand laid on his shoulder. “So you at the bar flirting to some older nigga wasn't what it looked like?” he turns to you, his grills shining as his nose turns up in irritation. “No, it wasn't! And you know I wouldn't do that shit to you” your voice cracked. You didn't want Fontaine to be worried about you. You were a big girl and you didn't need some hood nigga taking care of you, but you also didn't want him to think you were someone to share around. “Then what was it?”

 You ended up telling him everything that happened. From the plan, to the creepy comments. You made sure to lay everything onto the table. 

“Why didn't you say shit at the club?” he sighs looking straight at the driver's wheel as he sucked his teeth. “ ‘cus I know you taine and ion need that type of attention on me.” your eyes stuck at your dress. “That dress giving you every type of attention” Your boyfriend examines your short dress with a deep breath and hand rubbing his beard. He thought you looked jaw dropping but knowing Fontaine, he wasn't gonna let you see him fold so quickly, especially after what just happened. What’d you expect? He's stubborn. You smile, “Whatchu meannnn..” you laugh as you cross your hands, looking at him from the side. 

And like that, flirting quickly turned to fucking. 

Fontaine's rough hands groping your titties, ass, and hips time and time again. His name leaves your thick lips over and over again. the car windows steaming with warm breaths of ecstasy.

“Ion won't no other nigga looking at you” Fontaine groins. “ion care if yo ass was green, don't no nigga need to be laying they eye on what's mine.” you nod, too breathless, too caught up with with the feeling of Fontaine's hands rubbing that spot on your clit. ‘I'm all yours taine” you finally sigh. Your legs shaking as you finally came. But the rhythm of Fontaine's hips continued. His hands gripping your ass as his head lays back. 

“Fontaine, i cant..” you hold his arm. ‘I know baby i know, just relax mama m’kay?” you nod lightly laying yourself on his chest. Your warm breath on his neck. “Where you want it baby?” Fontaine's raspy voice asked. You were so fucked out of it, you couldn't let out coherent words. “In…side..” you moaned as Fontaine came inside you.

“You got it all on my dress!” you yelled out quietly as Fontaine grabbed the house keys. “That’ll show dem weird niggas ya already fucking with someone.” you notice his grin from the side which made you smile.

He really made you feel like a gem tonight. 

[logansargeantsbabymom]

Too Good to Say Goodbye (SNEAK PEEK)

Logan Sargeant x Fem!Reader

Warnings: cursing, Hurt/Comfort & Implied Smut

(THIS IS A SNEAK PEAK! IT'S GONNA BE A LONG ONE BUT ENJOY THIS LITTLE SNEAK PEAK IM GIVING YOU) I also have a lengthy Logan smut in my drafts but I'm no where NEAR done yet.

Summary: Y/N is tired of constantly being dissed by Logan and he doesn't seem to care, at least not until it's too late.

(it’s uploaded now)

F1 masterlist

Follow my instagram account (THATS STRICTLY FOR THIS BLOG) for updates on when i post and fun stuff like that!

instagram

I clasp my jacket closer to my body as I wait for Logan to open the door of our shared apartment. It's pouring rain and my dumbass forgot the keys, I sigh as I pull my phone out, dialing my lovers number.

one ring

two rings

three rings

four- declined.

*new text from "Logie Bear🐻💙"*

Logie Bear🐻💙: Babe I'm on the sim, give me a few.

Me: I'm out here in the pouring rain and I left my key, You said you'd unlock the door 5 minutes ago.

Logie Bear🐻💙: You fucking made me crash.

Logie Bear🐻💙: I'm coming.

A scoff leaves my lips as I shove my phone into my soak jean pockets that stuck to my skin, a few minutes later I hear the lock click and the door swigs open revealing a less than happy Logan.

"Damn, were you watching our home videos while waiting for me to open the door?" Logan laughed as he took in a soaked me before side stepping so I could walk in.

"I've been outside for 10 fucking minutes in the pouring rain Logan and you're making jokes?" I almost screamed at him

Unbelievable, all I do for him and this is how he treats me?

"Woah babe, take a joke," Logan starts before his phone starts ringing "Yeah? Oh for sure, right now? Uh huh, Okay I'll hop on. Yup yup, just give me 5. I'm grabbing a snack" with that Logan hung up the phone "I'm hoping back on the sim with the boys, so just take a shower and dry the floors, you're ruining the wood."

I wanted to scream, I'm ruining the floors? I wouldn't be ruining the floors if you would've opened the door 10 minutes ago like you fucking said you would.

I made my way into our shared room, grabbing my clothes and speaker before making my way to the bathroom. Once in the bathroom, I connected my phone to the speaker and started playing "Hold Me While You Wait" by Lewis Capaldi on a low volume before stripping out of the soaking wet clothes that stuck to my skin.

My shaking hand turned the tap to hot as the water started spurting out of the shower head, which made me sigh thinking about the shower head I gave Logan every time we showered together. Today makes 3 weeks since we last fucked, and that was also probably why I'm so aggravated at everything he does. All this pent up sexual tension between us is driving me crazy.

Before stepping into the now steamy shower I turned the volume up on the song currently playing. Once in the tub, I let all my problems wash off of me and down the drain as I let the boiling hot water hit my skin as I just stood under the warmth of it. After what felt like 3 minutes of pure bliss and silence I hear a faint knock at the door before hearing it open. Peaking my head out the shower curtain I'm greeted by Logan just standing by the door.

"Hey Logie, care to join me?" I said in a low & seductive voice, watching as he steps fully into the bathroom and closes the door. A victory smile makes its way on my lips as I pull myself behind the curtain once more, quickly lathering myself in foamy soap.

I can hear Logans footsteps getting closer to the shower, but instead of getting in I hear him pick up my phone, turn the volume down, set my phone back down and as he's leaving he mutters "Not tonight. Boys are on the game and they're complaining that your depressing songs are too loud."

Are you fucking kidding me?

That had been my last straw. In one quick movement I turn off the shower, throw my robe on and march out of the bathroom and into his sim room.

[redphlox]

How long do you think Dabi survived for in the tube? I’m regards to Natsuo’s character, do you think he got the chance to reconcile with Touya despite the Ending incident? How do you think that went down?

One thing I will credit to the ending of MHA, the fact they still have Touya’s shrine (wonder if they still have kid Touya’s picture or if it’s a different one) considering Shoto prays to it. They never forgot about him, and they never seemed to blame him either saying they would always be there (Fuyumi and Rei said anyway.) Although I hope he didn’t die in the tube and was able to hug them one last time. The idea that Dabi is probably the only villain to be remembered by his family/have a grave while Toga and everyone else were abandoned is low key heartbreaking. But the whole ending for the LOV is LOL

I think maybe Toya survived a couple of weeks or months. Not too long, of course. Let the man escape this cruel world.

I like to think that Natsuo reconciled with his brother. The story emphasized that they had a strong bond and implied that Toya was a main source of emotional support and comfort to Natsuo during a time when he felt abandoned and rejected by both parents, as Endeavor was focus on his career and abusing his family, and Rei's energy was focused on protecting Shouto from Endeavor and her own mental health was deteriorating. I'm sure Natsuo had a lot of anger and confusion about Touya's actions as a villain, but I believe they got closure.

It would be nice if the author had confirmed this in some way, seeing as he put so much emphasis on the relationship, but... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ it's just another writing failure that didn't need to crash and burn but did anyway.

I also hope Touya didn't die in that tube by himself. Hopefully he was able to be held as he died or something. Especially since this second death was supposed to fix the first way he died (alone, unseen), but again, who knows! A major plotline of the story being so open-ended that readers get no closure and no satisfaction from the story... that's what we were left with.

I agree. It's truly all laughable. Shigaraki and Toga will only be remembered by Spinner and their respective hero kids, and neither party has a complete picture of the villains' stories. We're not shown that Spinner learned about his best friend's childhood abuse, and we're not shown if Ochako knew about the quirk counseling and all the childhood trauma that Toga went through. And it's not like Spinner will be let out of prison to make a grave or altar for them. Lol. Despite Deku saying he'll never forget Shigaraki, we're never shown that he's thinking about him or is moved by him in any way besides that "do your best" flashback which wasn't even in context to what Shigiraki would have wanted. Lol. And yeah, Ochako's quirk counseling program was inspired by Toga to prevent more kids from suffering her same fate, but it would be much more impactful if she actually shared this with the public and TALKED about Toga to the public. But no, let's keep Toga's dying heroic action on the down low so that people's perception of her is not challenged and she remains a heinous humanless villain in the annals of history. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

It's just all one giant superficial, forced ending that feels hollow and disingenuous.

Chapter 431 at least redeemed Shouto's ending for me and gave me some closure on Touya... reassurance that he's remembered and considered even in death, loved and seen unconditionally, which is exactly what Touya wanted after he died on Sekoto Peak.

[just-another-author-i-guess]

Judd smut in Y/n's car? 😈

JUDD SMUT IN Y/N’S CAR !!!

Tags: fem! Reader, porn without plot, well I mean they talk like a little before they fuck, driving under the influence?, okay literally don’t do that pls idk why they did it in this fic, being low key inappropriate in front of kids, more weed smoking 🫶, judd has a HUGE HORSE COCK, he also degrades Y/n quite a bit, also like semi public sex??, it’s literally in a car, and once again very unprotected sex, PLEASE WRAP IT!!

Summary: they fuck in Y/n’s car after Judd got his taken away lmfao

Author’s note: SORRY this took me so long to write for some reason,, I hate school so much oml 😡 I was originally going to finish and post this yesterday but like then I got a bunch of unsolicited dick pics and I got scared and didn’t feel like writing smut anymore 🧍🏻🏃🏻‍♀️ anyways,, I’m back today and I’m fine, just traumatized. I love being a woman fr 💩

Judd smut in Y/n’s car

Word count; 3,9K

(smut under the cut)

Judd took a long drag of his cigarette, exhaling most of it through his nose but having the decency to turn his head slightly and exhaling the rest through the barely opened window. 

He flicked the burned tip out the window as well; cinder falling down and gathering in the cracks of where the window sat in the door. 

“You drive like a fucking grandma— drive faster,” He instructed.

You didn’t turn your head from the road. “I’m actually driving exactly what the speed limit allows. Fuck off. “ You grumbled.

The two of you were on the way back from one of Judd’s deals, which you were almost late to because Judd decided to leave 10 minutes behind schedule, forgetting you had to drive and refused to go too far over the speed limit. The deal itself had been pretty uninteresting; you sat in the car and watched as Judd handed the guy a plastic back and he handed your boyfriend the money. 

He got his car hijacked (parentsjacked) two weeks ago, because he got caught lighting an old building on fire. You were there too, actually, too drunk and stoned to care in the moment; but because Judd could be a pretty good boyfriend at times he covered up for you. 

“Yeah. Whatever. I need at least one of us to have a car.” He said, when you asked him about it. 

Immediately after, you had been prompted to Judd’s personal Uber. Not to mention he had to hide most of his,, not legal substances in the trunk of your car, hence why you were now even more adamant on following traffic rules as to not get pulled over by the cops. 

(Or found out by your mom, who already wasn’t a very big fan of your boyfriend) 

His raccoons had also made themselves at home in your backseat, at the moment the two of you were alone in the car but often there would be a couple of them napping in the back. 

Judd grumbled something in response that you didn’t quite hear, but you retorted; “Shut the fuck up. Why can’t you just act like a passenger princess, or something,” 

He opened and closed his mouth, cigarette hanging on his lips. “What the fuck did you just call me?” 

You smiled a little. “That’s what you are, babe. You’re my passenger princess,” 

Blinking slowly, he put the cigarette out in the ashtray he had placed between the front seats and stared at you blankly. “What the hell are you talking about? You think I look like a princess?” He was baffled. 

You suppressed a chuckle, and turned your head quickly to gauge his reaction. “I forgot you’re too edgy to use tiktok,” You murmured. When you opened it on your phone, he would sometimes stand behind you and glare at the screen over your shoulder, but that was all the exposure he’d had to the app. 

Judd frowned. “Why don’t you pull over and I’ll show you who the real fucking princess is.” It was half a threat, but none that you took too seriously. 

“Oh, yeah? You’d have to pay extra for that, Uber drivers don’t normally fuck their costumers.” You answered coyly, but he didn’t find your quip nearly as funny as you did. You turned back to the road, making sure you weren’t about to run into any middle schoolers as you neared Bridgeton Middle School. Judd didn’t say anything– but you felt his large hand slither up your leg, enclosing around your thigh and squeezing the fat there softly. 

He looked out the window to his side, refusing to grant you attention while he continued to massage your thigh; and glaring as you pulled into the parking lot. Judd had convinced you to skip school that day, so you could drive him to his stupid deal and you could smoke and get McDonald’s after. The first part of his plan went without a hitch, until you got incredibly high-horny and you ended up fucking in the bathroom at McDonald’s as well. Unfortunately, you had to leave sooner than intended; in a daze and desperate to sober up before you went and picked Jessi up from school. Coincidentally Nick as well, since, you know, Judd's parents took his car. 

You parked and turned to Judd, crawling half over to his seat and forcing him to look at you. His glare lessened as he stared at your grinning face so close to his; leaning in. You kissed him softly once, then twice, then three times, giggling and pulling away whenever he chased you. He growled and the hand on your thigh went to your waist, he pulled you in and was just about to kiss you properly, forcefully and roughly when a series of knocks came to your window. 

It was Jessi and Nick. You averted your head and let Judd kiss your cheek instead, gently pushing him back as you sat back down in your seat. You motioned for the two to come in.

Jessi opened the door, and allowed Nick to crawl inside first. “It smells like weed and junkfood in here.” She commented, a slight question in her statement as she crawled in, too, and closed the door behind her. 

You turned your body halfway in your seat, coming to face her. “Sure.” You ignored her comment. “Had a good day at school?” 

Both her and Nick nodded reluctantly. “Yeah. Can you help me with some maths-stuff later?” She asked and you wrinkled your nose; Maths was not something you were particularly good at, but you nodded and agreed to help her anyways.

Judd’s hand returned to your thigh and you glanced at him– he was staring blankly at the kids, but he met your eyes with raised eyebrows, indicating he wanted something from you. You hummed. “Hey, Jessi, how about hanging out at Nick’s house for a while?” You looked to Nick, who flushed slightly and nodded in agreement. 

Jessi’s mouth tightened as she looked at Nick, and then you. She new that when you asked her that, you really meant; “Hey, Jessi, it would be more convenient for me to drive straight to Judd’s house so we can fuck.”

“C’mon Jessi, we can watch a movie or something,” Nick added hopefully. You smiled, a bit tightly as you looked at Jessi and she reluctantly uncrossed her arms and agreed. “Okay, fine. But can we do that stupid biology assignment together then, instead?” 

Nick agreed happily, and the two quickly got a rather animated conversation started. You drove out of the parking lot, Judd’s hand increasing in height on your thigh till he was toying with the hem of your skirt. You flushed, gently pushing his hand down a couple times so Jessi and Nick wouldn’t see, but it ultimately was a losing battle. 

The two’s conversation turned to background noise as you drove towards your destination, as fast as you could; now way faster than the speed limit allowed. Judd’s incessant caress of your thigh made your heart beat so much faster and your finger’s grip the steering wheel so much tighter— you could feel him staring hungrily at you the whole time too, seizing you up with that small twitch of his lips that meant he was going to fuck you till your legs were jelly. 

‘Step on that goddamn speeder, sugar! Look how he’s eyeing you.. like a big, hungry wolf,’ Connie’s claws locked around the back of your seat, and she moaned when his nails slightly scratched at your fishnets; lifting them and making them slap against your thigh. 

You gasped, and sent him a glare that bordered on a sultry pout. “I can’t,” you muttered to Connie. “I’ll actually run someone over if I go any faster,” 

Your monstress shook the seat harder. ‘They won’t mind giving up their life for some sweet, sweet lovemaking baby~’  She purred and you glanced at her briefly, with a scandalised expression. 

“I really don’t think you should be saying stuff like that,” You retorted, focused on evening out your breathing from the slow teasing of Judd’s warm hand. Then he leaned in, squeezing your thigh in a death grip and placed a long, slow kiss under your jaw 

“You changed your mind about fucking your Uber costumer yet?” He drawled, deep voice dragging a whispering growl all the way up your spine.

You shivered. “I think I have,” you breathed back and felt him smile triumphantly against your neck. 

He cackled darkly. “Good. You better drop the fucking attitude,” Then, he snapped your fishnets again, watching as thin, red lines appeared on your thigh.

Connie moaned loudly again, fanning her hands in front of her face before dramatically laying down on the floor of the car, between the front and back seats. 

“Ew. Can you two not?” That time it was Nick speaking, arms crossed over his chest.

Jessi nodded in agreement; her gaze was locked on where Judd was touching your thigh, burning into you. Your boyfriend in question slowly retreated his hand, half turning in his seat to glare dissatisfied at your two passengers. 

Nick shifted uncomfortably and whatever insult he had died on his tongue. “What? Are you fucking jealous or something?” He sneered.

The younger shrugged and looked away. “No.” 

Judd grunted, gravely and deeply. “It’s not my fault you can’t get your little prick wet,” He wiggled his pinky finger for emphasis. 

You failed to hold back a giggle and gently slapped his arm. “Don’t tell thirteen-year-olds to have sex, you ass,” You scolded, halfheartedly through and smiled as you came to a stop in front of the birch house. 

“Okay, get out you two!” You called over your shoulder. “We’ll be right in— I’m just gonna park.” You bluffed, and didn’t miss the way Jessi rolled her eyes at you as she slammed the car door behind her.

Connie rose from the floor to sit in the middle seat in the back. ‘Yeah, park Judd’s dick right in your pussy!’ She drawled, making obscene gestures with her hands. 

Judd was quick to point you to a nearby parking spot, concealed a bit by a willow tree with low-hanging branches. As soon as you were parked, you unbuckled your seatbelt and Judd was reaching for you.

He pulled you to him by your waist— settling you down over his lap, straddling him. You whimpered as you felt him against you, already straining in his pants. He grabbed greedy handfuls of your ass with one hand, having the other settle on the back of your neck and pulling your hair. He held your head in an iron grip, making sure you wouldn’t avoid his kiss this time around.

Then, he kissed you. Roughly, deeply, tongue invading your mouth almost instantly. You mewled as he bit your lower lip, arms wrapped around his neck and fingers gently pulling on the short hairs at the back of his head. 

You were already moving your hips, without thinking about it and he wasted no time in aiding you; thrusting upwards while holding your hips down and helping you rock back and forth. 

You were already quite sensitive from your earlier rough fuck in the McDonald’s bathroom, your clit swelled and started twitching almost instantly. The rough drag of denim on your panties was almost too much, but the sloshing of warmth in your lower belly kept you going— rutting yourself harder against him. 

He moved from your lips, you let out a soft, whiny sigh. “You wanted it that bad, huh? You’re already so fuck-drunk,” He commented, that wicked smile pulling at his lips. He squeezed your asscheek hard. “Up.” He instructed, and shakily, you lifted yourself up to stand on your knees instead of sitting on him. 

You held his shoulders for support, definitely not expecting him to bring both his hands under your skirt and roughly ripping your fishnets apart right under your pussy. He let them rip all the way down your thighs and you looked at him wide-eyed. 

“I’ll get you new ones, baby.” He grinned, a bit coyly as he pushed your panties aside. His cold fingers gently brushed your folds and you couldn’t find it in yourself to care about your ruined tights. Your breathing hitched and you desperately bucked your hips, trying to get him to touch you further. 

His other hand returned to your hip, to hold it in place and keep you from rutting yourself against his fingers. He gave a warning growl, brows drawing together as he concentrated on the task at hand. He teased your folds apart with his pointer, feeling how warm and wet you already were. You were pulsing, almost, starting to clench before his fingers even entered. 

“Judd—“ You moaned. “Do— do something.” You pleaded with him. 

Connie was going crazy behind you as well, both her and Maury were sitting in the backseat contributing to an animated conversation. Your monstress shook Maury by the shoulders, yelling at him to get Judd to do anything. 

‘C’mon! Fist her already!’ Maury roared, kicking the seat you and Judd were sitting on. 

Your boyfriend inhaled sharply, pressing his thumb to your swollen bud— forcing a breathy, drawn out whine out of you. He retaliated by pressing down harder, slowly moving his thumb in a circle that had you desperately bucking into his hand. 

He could feel your warmth leaking, wetness gathering and threatening to fall before he finally, finally gave in and shoved a finger into you. He looked at you, drinking in your expression as he burrowed one, long finger into your cunt.

Connie cheered and you cried out Judd’s name. He made a ‘come hither’ motion, slightly scratching deep within your walls right where you needed him. He chuckled, darkly as you clenched around his finger. 

“Want one more?” He asked— pressing down on your clit deliberately right as you were about to answer. 

You nodded your head, burying your face in his shoulder. “Mhm! Judd— please!” You wiggled your hips in emphasis. 

“Good girl.” He praised you, adding a second finger as promised. He pumped them for a little while, relishing in the moans you tried to conceal in his neck and grunting at the occasional bites you left. 

Then, he suddenly stopped moving, but not withdrawing his fingers. You whined pathetically in protest. “Relax, slut.” He said. “Fuck yourself on my fingers,” 

You didn’t need to be told twice, immediately you were bouncing up and down on his hand; trying to bring them as far into your pussy as possible. You clawed at Judd’s shirt, pulling the neckline down so you could properly bite him and conceal most of your whiny moans. 

He groaned, ripping his head back and allowing you more access to ravage his neck. You could feel yourself dripping, warm liquid gathering in Judd’s palm and running down his forearm. He pressed your clit harder, feeling your cunt clench tightly around his fingers— his cock ached at the thought of feeling your little pussy around him again. 

The car filled with loud squelching sounds, every time you rose and fell back on his fingers. Your pace fastened in time with Judd’s assault on your clit and you cried out; “Please—please, more! Judd, please!” 

“Yeah?” He drawled and you lifted your head from his neck slightly to nod your head. Then, he curled his fingers and touched a spot that had you seeing stars. You cried out, loudly, as his fingers began thrusting into you violently. Along with your combined forces, you moving your hips frantically and him rolling your clit with his thumb and scissoring his long fingers inside your pussy, you reached the edge quickly.

Judd sneered. “You gonna cum?” He knew the answer already, could feel it in the way your little pussy throbbed and clenched around his fingers. 

Your thighs burned from your rapid movement, shaking as liquid flames consumed your belly. “S’good, s’good— yes,” you breathed, clawing at Judd’s chest. 

He bend his fingers inside you again, breathing into your ear in his nice, deep voice. “Come on my fingers, pretty girl. C’mon.” 

Again, you definitely did not need to be told twice. The coil in your tummy snapped, and you fell apart with a loud cry of your boyfriends name. He continued finger fucking you through your orgasm, until you were even puffier and so sensitive that you were shying away from his hands. 

He grinned gleefully. “Good fucking girl,” he praised you, rubbing your clit in slow circles again, before finally pulling out and allowing you to rest on his knees. 

You sat, feeling your own wetness drip underneath you as you tried to catch your breath— Judd however, wasted no time, unbuckling his pants and pulling his fat cock out. 

You swallowed at the sight, how fucking hard he was and your pussy clenched again— as if it wasn’t already sore and abused. Subconsciously, you rutted your hips a bit forward, grinding on his knee as you watched him stroke himself. He hissed, hand tightly fisting the base of his cock and making its way to his leaking head; you timed your movements with his stroking. 

“C’mere.” He grunted, hands leaving his swollen cock in favour of grabbing your hips and pulling you towards him. 

On instinct, you reached forwards and grabbed his dick, standing on your knees again so you could sink down on him. You only managed to get the head in, before one of his large hands wrapped around your wrists; stopping you. 

“You take what I give you, slut. Pull shit like that again and I’ll have you on your knees instead, got it?” He growled, his other hand restraining your hip in a death grip that was sure to leave marks on your after— long, purple finger prints.

Though the thought of sucking him off wasn’t terrible, your pussy ached so pathetically and you knew the only thing that would satisfy you was Judd’s cock rearranging your guts. So you whined, but nodded and let him guide you back. 

He leaned the seat back a little, Maury yelped and moved away from his place behind you to make space as Judd leaned back. He lifted his hips up, emphasising what he wanted from you. 

You reached out a shaky hand, closing it around his base and moving up and down just like he had before. He groaned, teeth clenching as you smeared his pre-cum from top to bottom, massaging him to the best of your ability. Still, you couldn’t ignore the harsh clenching of your hole as he kept you empty. You slowly started grinding against his thigh again, hoping he’d let you. 

“Judd..” You sniffled, eyes close to filling with tears. “I need your cock inside me, please.” 

You could almost feel Judd’s dick hardened in your grip, and he growled and sat up a little straighter. “Jeez. You whine like a bitch in heat,” He commented, rather smugly.

He beckoned you with his fingers again, and you raised yourself right over his cock but waited to sit down. Judd hummed in approval, guiding his cock with one hand and you with the other, till the head was making its way inside you. 

You sighed, relieved, trying to relax your throbbing pussy so Judd could fit. He groaned. “You’re so.. fucking tight, relax.” He said, as he forced his way further inside you.

When he finally bottomed out, you moaned, loudly. He didn’t move right away, so again you took matters into your own hands and started softly rocking your hips. 

He grabbed your hand, placing it over your belly to feel the bulge his cock had created inside you. “Feel that, baby? You’re so full, aren’t you?” 

You barely registered the question, burying your face in his neck again to hide the way your whole expression screwed up in pleasure. “Mhm.. s’big, s’full.” You slurred.

Then, Judd started moving, bouncing you in his lap like a cocksleeve while you wailed into his shoulder. The stretch was almost unbearable, you felt him bruising your cervix each time he moved— the fit was so snug you could feel every ridge and vain on him. 

He lost himself in the feeling of your warm, soft pussy, having tuned Maury out a long time ago he fucked you mercilessly, entirely focused on reaching his own end. He lifted his hips off the seat to pound into you from below— you could feel him in your belly, your clit scraping over his lower stomach every time he moved. 

It was too much— you were already close to reaching your end, clenching so tightly around Judd that he cursed and could barely move. 

“Feel good, you little slut?” He grunted, blunt nails digging into your sides. 

You nodded desperately. “Good.” He said. “Then cum for me again, you’re so close, right? I can feel your little pussy clenching around my dick so tightly, god, you’re such a fucking whore.” 

You kinda wanted to say something back, but with his rough thrusts and the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head and crossed; you couldn’t really deny him. 

The air in the car felt electric as you came for a second time, bursting and feeling a flush of warm liquid spill from you and cover Judd’s cock. He groaned as you creamed, warm little hole sucking him in and fighting to keep him there. His breathing went erratic, and he bounced you harder, faster, to chase his own orgasm.

“Fuck! Shit, you’re so tight,” He growled through clenched teeth, fucking you so hard the car shook and he was sure to leave bruises. Your legs had gone numb by the time he took your hand again, placing it back on your belly right in time with his release.

His cock throbbed and he came. Hard. Thick ropes of warm cum filled you, stuffing you so full you could feel your belly swell even further under yours and Judd’s combined hands.

He leaned in and bit down on your neck, keeping his own noises as quiet as possible but making sure to leave your neck swollen and blue. You moaned softly as he bit you, not having the energy to shy away from the borderline painful overstimulation. 

When he came down, you collapsed into his chest— breathing heavily. You sat like that for a while, the car’s windows had been fogged up and the only thing you could hear were your combined breathing. 

‘Atta girl!’ Connie slithered around you, patting you on the head. You just mumbled incoherently in response, still too sex drunk to function. 

Maury did the same, ruffling Judd’s hair as he leaned his head back against the seat and praising him— all of which Judd ignored. 

“You’ll have to carry me back.” You muttered, after a long while.

Judd chuckled hoarsely, moving you a bit to pull out of you and tug himself back in his jeans. “Fuck no.” 

You slapped his chest, gently, and pulled yourself up to look at him directly. “I can’t feel my legs.” 

“Then I did a good fucking job.” He snarked, leaning in and kissing your temple. 

Well. It wasn’t like the two of you needed to be somewhere, relaxing in your car for a bit actually did seem like a pretty good option— and so that’s what you did.

God,, why am I horny for a fucking cartoon character wth 💀✋

Tags: @dlfvrr , @bxbyyyjocelyn (lemme know if you want to be tagged!)

[allidoistrytrytryy]

a moment's silence when my baby puts her mouth on me (cove holden x reader)

ao3 version here

summary: Cove Holden and the black underwear (from Patreon moment 2, if you know you know), except it's his own surprise on a random Friday (smut with feelings)

word count: 3,116 words

tags: smut, porn with feelings, porn without plot, light dom/sub, switching, sexual intimacy, they're in love your honour, author has been feeling insane about cove for years and lately about the black underwear so here we are (female reader implied but i tried to be as non-descriptive as possible, can be a male trans reader too)

You were exhausted, your fingers rubbed at your eyelids and at your forehead, trying to take the headache away.

You had had a large project at your job, long hours, and planning that took too much of your time. You came home late, too late, so late sometimes Cove would already be in bed or asleep on the couch, always waiting for you (even though you had told him to sleep, not to wait up for you if you were too late, but he insisted every time).

You sighed at the thought of your fiancee. You missed him too much, missed being able to have time with him, going out on weekends or lazing around after work to watch a show you would fall asleep through anyway, snuggled in his warmth.

You hadn’t been able to do that in more than two weeks, always working, always in contact with your coworkers to continue the project even deep into the night. You were glad today was the presentation, and then you were taking a few days off, away from everything.

You felt the fear in your gut at the presentation. You were nerves on legs, as you always were when you had to talk in front of an audience. You knew that would never change, the way you spaced out, waiting and waiting, at your desk.

Your phone buzzed on your desk, which took you out of your thoughts and the ball in your stomach. A smile crept up on your face before you even had the time to read what the text said, at the name appearing on your screen.

Cove.

Romeo: You have this, show them what you’re made of. Love you. <3

You smiled hard, your finger rubbing at the heart emoji with the text, at the picture you had set as his picture on your phone. A picture of him asleep on your couch, snuggled under a blanket, his long hair freed from its usual low bun.

You hadn’t been able to resist the urge to take a picture, and your fingers had gone through his hair.

You sent him a heart back, now fired back up. You could do this, go home and kiss your fiancee senselessly until you fell asleep snuggled into his warmth.

And the presentation happened. It went well, and you shared smiles and compliments with your colleagues. Sighs of relief. You could all go home peacefully tonight.

Which you did. You sprinted to your car when the hour came, your colleagues’ laughter following you down the elevator. They all knew you were eager to be home again, to be with the fiancee you talked about too much. (You couldn’t help it. You loved Cove Holden too much, loved him since you were eight. What could you do?)

The drive went quickly and you arrived at your little place a bit further from the city in record time. When you parked in your spot, next to Cove’s car who was already there and home, you realized you had forgotten to send him a text. You bit your lip, hoping he hadn’t waited for it.

Five unread texts with Cove inquiring about the presentation, worried. Shit.

You climbed the stairs of the apartment complex quickly, your keys already in hand. You entered.

”I’m home! Sorry, I completely forgot to answer your texts, I’m so so...” You interrupted yourself by the sight of your living room, your coffee table with a range of plates and food, and even a cake.

Hands sneaked around your waist, a kiss on your hair, a chest against your back. Your fiancee enveloped you, mint, citrus and this particular ocean smell in your nose and you finally relaxed. “Hi sweetheart, how was it?” he asked gently.

You turned around in his arms and, as always, you had to crane your neck to look up into his eyes. You hadn't been fortunate with height while Cove had had too much of it over the years. His arms circled your waist. “Went smoothly, we can finally breathe now,” you answered and got on your tiptoes to kiss him quickly, which he answered with that giddy smile he never lost around you. “Now, what’s all of this, Covie?”

”Well, I knew it would go perfectly since it’s you,” you rolled your eyes at the remark but the smile betrayed you, the blush even more. “and wanted to celebrate it. I got your favorite things from your favorite places and got a cake.”

Cove looked like it wasn’t even an effort, and it wasn’t in your relationship. You both made so much effort, so much again and again for each other that it was just normal. But, it didn't change the fact that you were always touched by every gesture.

You still couldn’t phantom how dear you were to this man sometimes. You still couldn’t understand how your heart never seemed to stop expanding for him, taking in every piece, every detail, every word and action from him.

Your hands dragged his face to you, to kiss him deeply, like you had wanted to since you had finished the project. He sighed against your lips, that content sigh, his lips and tongue entangled with yours. An intimacy you could never get enough of.

”I love you so much,” you whispered against his lips and his eyes misted over, your crybaby, always yours.

”I love you too,” he whispered as if he didn’t want to break the calm of the moment, wanted to stay in this moment suspended in time.

Until you dragged him to the couch to drape yourself over him, eating and barely paying attention to whatever was on the TV as background noise. You talked about the project. He talked about his day and his own job.

When you finished, he pushed you to the bathroom. “Go take a bath, relax, I got the dishes,” Cove reassured and you pouted.

”But, I can help, I didn’t get dinner so it should be me,” you whined in his shoulder and he laughed while pushing in the bathroom while you couldn’t do anything.

”No way. Go, now,” he kissed your cheek and you still pouted as you got into the bathroom.

You did well on what he had told you to do, spending too much time in a hot bath until it got cold, your body wrapped in your comfortable fuzzy robe. You finally stepped out to get to the bedroom, itching to put your pajamas on, and fall asleep next to Cove.

The too-large shirt was in your hands, actually just one of Cove’s shirts you had stolen and never returned, as you did since you were teenagers, even before you were officially truly together. You hadn’t realized why the light was so dim, hadn't realized Cove was on the bed.

You turned your head slowly and you felt your knees wobble, felt your eyes widen until they almost popped out of your skull.

You had seen Cove in all types of clothes and nakedness over the years. You knew him and his body by heart, the moles, the sleeve on his right arm that you loved to kiss all over, the dips, and where the redness would creep. But right now? You were speechless.

Cove fucking Holden was sat against the headboard, half-lidded eyes on you, but you could see the blush high on his face and ears and down his neck. He was naked, well, except for the underwear but it was the underwear that made you want to scream.

It was black but it barely hid anything, the green happy trail visible from that delicious V-shape you liked to bite, down a dangerous low dip. Straps followed his hips and they showed his hipbones. You almost wanted to ask him to get up and show the back, to see how it looked over that ass you loved too much.

”Surprise,” he simply said, wanting to sound sultry but ending up at excited, embarrassed, waiting.

The shirt slipped through your fingers, forgotten on the floor, and you were still speechless. “What...are you...” you swallowed hard, heat at the back of your neck, on your ears.

Large shoulders were shrugged and he tilted his head, “I… we talked about how I wanted to try some...lingerie out and I thought it would be a good idea for a celebration.”

He was still waiting and you could see how waiting affected him, the redness ever more present on his face and down his neck, the quick jostle of his knee. You approached the bed slowly, eyes laser-focused on him.

You could feel a restraint slowly unfurling in your gut, a wait. You had missed Cove and his hands on you, you had missed the everyday intimacy but you had also missed the sexual intimacy you shared. You both couldn’t have enough of each other sometimes, a pull between your hearts and your bodies.

Your hands settled on the edge of the bed, and you crawled slowly to him, putting up a show for his eyes and his eyes only. The robe dipped down and he gulped, his eyes on your cleavage, on your bare chest visible underneath. You smirked, finding a place between his legs, hands on his thighs, so so close to the dangerous piece of underwear that threatened your composure.

”So, you decided to gift my eyes with this, baby?” you whispered, a finger playing with a strap at his hip. “You’re way too good for me.”

Cove gulped again and you wanted to bite at his Adam’s apple, leaving marks on his pale skin until everybody would know. He shook his head.

”What? You don't agree that you’re too good for me?” you asked, a little pout at the words, your eyes on his face. You were playing the game of how sultry you could be, how much you could push it until his own restraints broke. “Maybe I should show you.”

Your hands traced the straps and the edges of the underwear. Your mouth found a nipple as your hands traced but never touched where you could feel a hardness growing and growing. His moans hit your ears and you smiled, your tongue playing from one nipple to another.

”You don't have to...” he tried to say, his moans high, and god, did you love how vocal he could be. He was always so vocal, so good.

”I want to, so be a good boy, baby,” you whispered, bit at the side of his chest, so muscular, so pretty. He moaned higher, hips bucking against your chest. Your mouth traveled down and down, following the green trail of hair. “Driving me crazy with this, Covie.”

Your hands caressed the hardness over the fabric, but your mouth found the tip already out with how hard he was. The dip was so low that the tip was the only thing visible, so your tongue swirled around it, the saltiness hitting your tastebuds. You moaned, fingers at the straps.

”Oh my god," Cove whined loudly, hips bucking again, the tip making its way deeper into your mouth. “Shit, sorry sweetheart, I didn't mean to...”

You shook your head and pulled at the straps downward, until the underwear sat underneath his cock and you pushed more and more into your mouth, desperate for more, to make him feel even better.

”Fuck, fuck, fuck," you heard him repeat and you wanted to smile, to tease him like you always did because he only ever cursed in those moments, so gone, so desperate.

More and more, until you felt tears in your eyes, until you breathed through your nose, hands at what you couldn’t fit down your throat because of how big he was. But you loved it, thighs clenching to relieve the ache that formed in between.

It wasn’t about you, even though you could spend hours between his legs, to look at his head thrown back, his eyes closed and face scrunched up, like now. He looked out of this world, long hair around his head, down his shoulders, redness still at his face, sweat down his neck and on his chest. You couldn’t believe he was yours still.

”Shit, sweetheart, I’m gonna… I’m...” Cove’s voice rang out and you felt how tight his balls were getting, see how his abs tightened. He was close, and a part of you wanted him to cum in your mouth, but you had another plan.

You popped off his hardness with a loud pop, saliva around your mouth, and his head rose up, his eyes opened in question. You crawled back up his body, your hands opening your robe, until you could throw it on the floor beside the large bed. You settled on his lap, hands on his shoulders.

You swatted his hands away before they could fall on your hips, and you saw the small pout on his face that you kissed away with a laugh. “Sorry, no touching baby, be good a bit longer for me,” you kissed along his face, nibbled at his neck, leaving a few hickeys as your hips moved, your wetness rubbing on his cock.

Cove whined still against your shoulder, “But you look so good… And you’re so wet,” he moaned, groaned. “Let me touch you, please,” he begged but you shook your head, your hips rising up to catch the tip at the edge of your wetness, of your warmth.

You slowly sunk down, your own moan unable to stay in your throat at the delicious burn his cock always gave you, that fullness that always took your breath away. You hummed as you sank lower and lower.

His eyes were closed tightly, his body trembled when you finished back on his lap, the length fully inside you. You stayed still, enjoying the moment, and his hands stayed beside his hips, beside the underwear that was still underneath his cock, trapping his legs in place. He was taut, all muscles tight and restrained.

”Please, please, move," Cove begged and you could only answer with your hips moving up and slamming back down.

Your moans intertwined with Cove’s, as you rode him, slowly, building a faster rhythm with every breath, every moan. You rode him, a deep pleasure building in your stomach, pleasure built with his moans in your ear, your teeth at his shoulder.

You rode him until your thighs trembled and his hips, so restrained until now, slammed up in response. You almost screamed his name. It had hit that one spot deep inside and your body had fallen down onto his chest.

All restraint broke in his body, his hands at your hips, so tight you knew you would feel them still tomorrow, “Sorry, I can’t...” he breathed out, before his hips slammed up again and again, his hands guiding your hips down every time.

“Fuck, Cove, Cove,” you repeated his name, your forehead on his shoulder, your eyes on the spot that joined your two bodies together, his cock sliding in and out.

His name on your lips broke him again and you lost all control you had on the situation. His hands manhandled you on your back, almost ripped the underwear that had started it all off his legs, and he had your legs folded against his chest before he slid back in.

The breath was knocked out of your chest, your hands tugged at his hair, and your eyes were on him always. The muscles bulging with every movement, the sweat trickling down, the pure ferocity and desperation on his face.

Cove wasn't always pushed to this side of dominance, if not ever. Not to this degree. You both liked to switch, to play with what were the limits and new things, but falling back into lovemaking most of the time. Here, your gentle sweet Cove was gone, to leave a rougher Cove you loved too, your moans encouraging him.

”Don’t stop, Cove, don’t stop," you begged, hands desperate in his hair, hips moving to answer every thrust deep inside, against the spot. You could barely talk and he could only groan and moan, his own mouth busy on your nipples, back arched.

You were getting closer and closer, and he could feel it, the way you arched more and more, the way you were tighter and tighter around him, the way your moans only got louder. His eyes were on your face, a hand moving down from your hip to the nub of nerves, so wet from everything.

Your head tilted back into the pillow, “Cove, I’m… I’m gonna cum,” you moaned, warned and he hummed in response, his thumb insistent on your clit, in time with every thrust. Your back arched even more, the pleasure exploding in your stomach, behind your eyes, and in your whole body until you were left a trembling thing underneath Cove.

His thrusts slowed down, but your hips moved and you shook your head. “No, don't stop, need you to cum,” you croaked out, voice spent, hands still tugging at his hair.

”I don’t want to hurt you,” Cove moaned over you, eyes half-lidded on your face, but you shook your head again. You tugged him closer, forehead against his.

”You can’t hurt me. Please Cove, I love you, please,” you begged, his thrusts were erratic and you could tell he was close.

”I love you, fuck, I love you so much, I love you," he repeated against your cheek, and you hummed, answered back, until he moaned louder.

Until the final thrust, until he came deep inside you with your name on his lips and you kissed his face.

Cove detangled himself from you only to bring back a wet washcloth, to wipe you and himself. You only got up to go the toilets, fast and impatient, to find him back in bed, under the covers.

You cuddled in his arms, your cheek on his shoulder, legs entangled to look at him. Content, beautiful. It was magical, as always, to go to sleep with him every night, to have him be the last thing you always saw at night.

”Well, that was a nice surprise," you giggled and he smiled lazily. “I’ll be the one to surprise you next time.”

He groaned lightly but laughed, forehead hitting yours gently. “If you want me to really die, sure,” and you could only laugh, his lips on your eyelids, yours reaching up to kiss his eyebrows. “Go to sleep, sweetheart.”

You hummed, “I love you, Covie.”

His smile grew larger, and his cheeks turned red as always, “I love you too.”

And you fell asleep, safe, happy, home, where you belonged.

[sloppysequinz]

Intox Bimbo Mansion - Allie’s Games

This is a second character introduction for one of the residents of Intox Bimbo Mansion. See Kari’s intro here.

As far as Allie was concerned, beer was her god.

She didn’t necessarily think of it that way, so directly and explicitly. To be fair, she hardly formed abstract thoughts anymore. But she worshipped at the altar of beer nonetheless, with a cheerful heart and cheerful mind in her worship.

Her daily dose of Pink was almost an afterthought compared to the six pack of ice cold cans that appeared next to it, every morning, just as mysteriously. Apparently whoever left the drug knew just what else she needed. Allie had liked beer just fine before coming to the mansion, but something about the beer here just had an extra oomf that she couldn’t get enough of. She wasn’t sure if it was the flavor of the beer or the effect it had on her, but she’d stopped trying to figure it out in favor of putting her remaining brain cells on the task of consuming as much of it as possible.

Every morning Allie would sit up in bed, and after tossing aside her empty Pink bottle, she would time herself finishing all six cans. Her current record was 12 minutes, but she was determined to get it under 10. When she first came to the mansion, it had taken her almost an hour. The cans started appearing on the third day, and she had cracked open each one and drunk them one after the other, but she didn’t know how to make them go down faster. Since then, other girls at the mansion had taught her how to chug, and more importantly, how to shot gun. Shotgunning six beers in a row was a skill that had taken time to develop and Allie practiced religiously.

She took a second to open her phones timer, hit the start button, grabbed her room key to puncture the first beer, and opened the top, and eagerly held it to her mouth. The beer slid down her open throat, ice cold, bitter, and bubbly. When the can was empty, she dropped it and reached for the next, not caring where it landed. She had a job to do.

She paused after the third beer to let out an enormous burp, but the pause was short. She tried to make up for it with speed on the fourth beer, but the body can only handle so much liquid at once. She forced the fifth down despite a tickle in her nose, grabbing the sixth before the fifth was even empty. Finally she drained the last can, and let out a massive victorious belching “BRAAAAAAWP” as she stopped the timer. Ten minutes and 40 seconds. She was definitely under 2 minutes per can, but still there was room for improvement.

She flopped back in bed next to her empty cans. Her belly sloshed on top of her. The booze she had forced into her body at high speed finally washed over her brain and she moaned. She reached down to edge her pussy with one hand while she rubbed her belly with the other. One edge per can. She forgot where the rule came from, but she loved it. It made her even more addicted to the booze than she already was.

When she was done, she rolled herself out of bed and waddled to the mirror to check herself out. The sloshing pot belly she had gained as a Mansion resident took up most of the mirror. It protruded from below her substantial tits and now hung low enough to cover her fupa. It was too wide and soft to be a pregnancy belly, but if she still went out in public, she knew she would’ve been congratulated on the baby many times.

“My lil *uh* beer baby…” she cooed, reaching down to hug and jostle her belly. “Mommy nees ta *urp* make ya eben bigger, doncha thing?”

Now that the warm up was over, the real game could begin.

Allie had long forgotten how it started, but she knew she and the other girls in the mansion had come up with it. The game was that if Allie saw a beer, she had to drink it. It started with her drooling whenever one of the other girls shook a can in her face, but it had escalated since then. Allie had started leaving cans out around her suite so she would see them the next day and drink them. Then other girls had started to sneak into her suite to plant more cans around. Now it seemed like every person in the mansion knew about the game, and beers appeared in Allie’s suite and in front of her face with a regularity that would be alarming if she wasn’t so beer bloated and brain dead. The one edge per can rule stuck too, no matter where she was. Usually she just edged while she drank so she didn’t lose count.

The first can she found was on her dresser. “Seben~” she singsonged to herself, popping it open as she headed unsteadily for the shower. There was another one waiting for her in the shower, so she chugged the first and opened the next. “Eigddd!” She chirped victoriously. She edged herself with the shower head, then managed to wash and dry herself without finding another. But there was one by her hairbrush to sip as she did her braids and one in her makeup drawer for good measure. Downing beer with one hand and edging her pussy with the other before each task was routine, and she loved it.

She hit the door frame on the way back into her room and paused for a second to lean against it, giggling. “Ten beer shmen beers, I’m just a lil drunk!” She said to no one. She continued on to her dresser. Of course there were cans in the drawers waiting for her. She chugged her two more beers, rubbing her wet pussy as she did so, then pulled on a pair of daisy dukes and a wife beater tank she has cropped dangerously short herself. She liked everyone to see her beer belly jiggling as she staggered around the mansion and she liked her hard nipples on display. She hadn’t gotten any complaints yet.

“Twelb beers is a *urp* lodda beers.” She mused as she swayed in place in front of the dresser, jiggling her exposed beer belly. She grinned. “My beer baby ‘z… gonna be *hic* soooooo strong.”

Allie staggered out of her room and made her way toward the kitchen, beelining for the fridge. “I neeeeedz an eben bigger *braaawp* stronger beer *hic* baby!” She told the room, pulling open the fridge.

But horror of horrors, the fridge was empty!

Allie whined and swayed in place for a moment, leaning hard on the counter and the fridge door, trying to remember what one was supposed to do if there was no beer. “Godda *urp* get…more I guesh…” she finally remembered. She turned and wobbled towards the front door. She went to pull her cowboy boots on—and there was a beer in each boot, of course.

Allie clumsily pulled her boots on, then shotgunned the two beers back to back. She slid her fingers into her shorts to finger her throbbing pussy as she did so. Fuck, she felt good.

“Doze bisshes…made *urp* me dring thirdeen beersh before *hic* leavin da house!” She mumbled. “Meeean. Dash *hic* unlucky.”

Having lost count of her 14 beers and ignoring the fact that no one except she herself had made her drink anything, Allie swung the door open and staggered out. She ran into the far wall of the hallway and let out a chain of giggles and burps. She leaned against the wall as she started to walk, following it down the hall toward the elevators. There was a “general store” on the first floor, which generally sold just booze, but they called it the general store anyway. Allie was headed that way, determined to get a 30 rack to bring back to her fridge.

Surely no beers would appear in front of her between here and there.