#not just bits and pieces from like rides and comics:(

[kipkiphoorayy]

how it feels getting crumbs for the sequel of your all time favorite movie that child you used to pray for and came out when you were in elementary school (i’m a college animation major now)

[teencopandthesourwolf]

read on ao3 HERE

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He didn't mean to do it. He meant it, with every fucked-up fibre of his being he meant it, but he didn't mean to actually do it. 

Stiles had just—been so very fucking Stiles, in that stupid and irresponsible jump-head-first-into-the fray-on-everybody-else's-behalf kind of way that he has about him, and after the pack had neutralised the danger but everybody's veins still had more adrenaline than blood coursing though them, Derek felt—feels—so fucking livid and so damn grateful and so utterly, utterly muddled that he's grabbed Stiles by the shoulders and is pulling the kid's body into his own, hard, crashing their torsos together like a devastating highway collision with his arms enveloping Stiles's shoulders as a crushed car bonnet wraps itself around a tree. 

Now—at a clearing in the trees on what has been Hale land for generations going back centuries, with Stiles in his space and his nostrils and in his fucking head—Derek is terrified. 

There's a fairly stilted, “Whoa, okay, alright. We're doing this, huh, big guy?” But then Stiles is relaxing into the hug. He sort of melts, actually, snaking long and wiry yet surprisingly strong arms around Derek's waist; so very warm and alive, alive, alive.

“Stiles, you shouldn't have—why do you always have to—you could've fucking died!” he admonishes, although it doesn't come out half as harshly as he means and wants it to. 

Lost, Derek shoves his nose into Stiles's neck and breathes.

Stiles lets him—because of course he does—cocking his head to the side to accommodate Derek's needs.

“Must be a day that ends in Y, huh, Der?” he answers, ever the class clown.

Derek quietly growls his annoyance and relief in equal measure, and even though he senses the rest of the pack has now gathered around them, and hating that he has an audience for this, he squeezes Stiles into him impossibly more.

Stiles wheezes comically then jokes some more, because humour is his default in any situation. “Hey, why don't you ease up a bit there, buddy? Kinda need this work of art that I call a body to stay in one piece if I'm ever gonna save your wolfy-ass again, oh Alpha, my Alpha.”

Derek promptly shuts him up with a slick lick to the jugular before he's really had a chance to think about what he's doing. Surprisingly, the kid shivers beautifully. But even Derek's tongue doesn't keep him quiet for very long. Only Stiles Stilinski could ramble incessantly with a werewolf at his throat.

“Okay, shit, alright, that—ahhhhhhh, that tickles, Fido! Heh, does this mean I'm gonna have to get the collar and chain on y—oh my fucking god!”

Derek clamps his jaws around the most exquisite throat he's ever seen, smelled, dreamed about, and growls out a warning sound that causes the betas to back off and Stiles to go weak at the knees.

Mine, he thinks loudly with a growl.

After a few delicious moments of Derek gnawing on Stiles's tasty throat, and once they're alone in the preserve other than the nocturnal animals and eery sound of the wind picking up from the west, Derek releases his jaws' hold on the sheriff's boy—the boy who runs with wolves; little red riding hoodie; the best human Derek's ever known—and soothes the purpling mark with a lingering press of his lips.

“Oh,” is amazingly all Stiles has got to say. Derek can satisfyingly smell Stiles's arousal, though, his wolf now howling inside of him at the heady scent.

“Yeah, oh,” he answers waggishly after trying his level best to calm the feral instinct he has to pull them both down into the undergrowth and mate the boy, here and now.

He finally manages to pull himself away from Stiles but doesn't release him from his grip entirely.

Fire-red irises find big, brown doe eyes and a smirk that Derek wants to lick right off Stiles's face to replace with a look of pure ecstasy.

“Stop doing stupid things,” he demands.

Begs. 

“Yeah, no, probably never gonna—oomph!” 

Derek kisses Stiles. Kisses him like it's the end of the fucking world, because he's realised that every time Stiles puts his own life in danger, it feels like it might be.

Wildly, Stiles doesn't hesitate this time. He kisses Derek right back, like he gets it.

Now found, Derek takes and he takes and he takes.

Stiles kisses like nobody else in existence, Derek is sure of it. He is earth and wind, fire and water.

Fucking elemental. 

When presumably Stiles needs to breathe, he tears his lips away from Derek's—now swollen and blood-red—and Derek can't help the whine that escapes his. Their foreheads bump as they both pant, attempting to settle as they shake with waning post-fight nerves and a near-feverish desire.

Stiles bargains, “How ‘bout if you keep doing that, I'll get myself a bigger bat?”

Derek both hates and loves the smile that spreads across his face like a rash, entirely of its own volition. 

“How about next time, you just wait for me?” 

“Deal,” Stiles grins and kisses Derek again—and Derek hopes it's the kind of deal that's forever.

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for @greyhavenisback—love yew, love <3 (unedited, soz!)

.

now edited and on ao3 HERE

[enidette]

HEAVEN BESIDE YOU

warnings :: both are 18+, no real d/s dynamics, kinda fluffy first time smut stuff, riding, unprotected sex (ill advised in an apocalypse but yolo)

carl grimes x fem!reader

carl remembers the first time he spoke to you. you lived in alexandria before he did, but had a similar backstory. you lived out there with walkers for years before you were welcomed into these walls. you caught his interest immediately, but the fact you stuck to yourself so much made it difficult for him to even learn your name.

that only piqued his interest more.

he would look for you, especially on watch shifts. he’d follow even, never getting caught. or so he’d thought. until one day he followed you out to the woods, hiding behind trees as you walked. you took a different path this time, leading him to a clearing. a large piece of land with an old, broke down car in the middle.

he watches you go further and further from his hiding spot, eventually deciding to go home when you turn around with a confused expression. your gaze finds his and he stands up straight, looking at you like a deer caught in headlights

“you’re not coming?” your voice had genuine curiosity, making him quirk a brow at you. he emerges from the trees but doesn’t try getting closer.

“what?”

you let out a short laugh, digging in your bag before tossing him a comic you’d find on one of your runs. he watches you turn back around and head towards the car, following you quickly this time.

“you think i haven’t noticed you, cowboy?” he grimaces at the nickname, looking at the comic in his hands instead of you. “i’ve noticed you like reading those.” you grab the car door that’s merely leaning on the car, moving it enough for the both of you to get in.

carl huffs, sliding into the backseat with you and moving the door back in place. “i’m surprised you noticed anything about me. you keep to yourself so much.” you nod at him, head turned facing the dusty windshield.

“i know a bit about everyone,” you turn to him a nudge him with your shoulder. “i could learn more about you if you’d let me.”

ever since, that car had become you and carl’s “spot”. somewhere you both would meet up to just be teenagers again, not ones stuck in the apocalypse. you had both grown so close so quickly, it was hard for carl to not see you in a different light.

it didn’t help that you seemed to treat him differently than everyone else. that you always wanted to know more about him. you remembered the things he liked and he’s not blind either, you’re very attractive.

he found himself testing the waters more and more. doing his best to use the little flirting he’s picked up over the years on you. it usually backfires, until one day the two of you are in the backseat of your abandoned car. you’re on one side and he’s on the other.

his comic is in front of his face but his eyes are peaking over it at you. you look focused as you read, popping candies you had both found in your mouth every once and a while. he sees how your skin is slightly glistening with sweat from the virginian summer heat.

he swallows thickly, trying to turn his focus back to his comic when he hears your laughter.

“you’re not exactly smooth, grimes,” you look up at him through your lashes with a small teasing smile. his mouth falls open a bit before turning into a flustered grin. he shakes his head and throws his comic down.

his breathing picks up a bit as he thinks about what to say next. “seemed i was every other time.” you quirk a brow at him, laying your comic down and sitting properly in front of him.

“oh no, grimes. i’ve caught you checking me out,” his face goes hot at your bold statement, embarrassed at how obvious he had been. not like he had much experience in these situations to go off of.

he doesn’t say anything, just adjusts himself in the seat so he’s shoulder to shoulder with you. his eyes avoiding yours that began shamelessly raking up and down his body. your hand goes to his thigh and he tenses up at the sudden contact, unaware of what to do next.

you pause at his reaction, “do you wanna just.. pretend this didn’t happen?” your hand starts to retract when he grabs it, just holding it in his. he looks down at your interlocked hands and just shakes his head. his eye flickers up to yours before going to your lips. he instinctively leans in a bit but stops halfway. the only sound in your ears were the nervous breaths the both of you let out.

you lean your head towards him, the tips of your noses touching. carl tenses at the unfamiliar contact, but doesn’t pull away. “do you wanna kiss me?” your question has him nodding, he didn’t even trust his voice in a situation like this.

you tilt your head up a little, leaning in all the way. your eyes flutter shut when your lips meet and it’s obvious you’re both inexperienced. you awkwardly bring a hand to the back of his head, playing with his hair as you attempt to deepen the kiss.

his hands find your waist, but the odd position has you hesitantly straddling his lap. “is this alright?” you mutter under your breath. the sudden closeness due to how pressed against him you were because of the small carapace hit him like a truck.

his eye raked over your body, mouth a little agape as he nods. you lean back in and the kiss is a little needier, messier. teeth clashing and heavy breaths mixing. an involuntary whimper slips out of his mouth when you grind against him, causing you to pull away and lean towards his ear.

“you make pretty noises, pretty boy.” he shuts his eye at the name, sucking in breaths harsher and harsher the more friction you provided. he had imagined this more times than he’d like to admit.

but it didn’t compare to how soft your lips felt against his, how perfect your skin felt on his fingertips. you’re breathing heavy, your chest rising and falling quickly. he sees how plump your lips are from your kiss, how pretty your skin looks in the rusted-window sunlight.

he pushes himself against you, chest to chest and reattaches your lips. the rocking of your hips becomes quicker and needier and his hands are digging into your hips. you pull away again, placing your hands on his chest before letting them wander. they trace down his abdomen before landing at the waistband of his jeans.

you look up at him quizzically, the two of you too embarrassed to speak. he nods and you unzip his jeans, tugging them down his legs. your impatience gets the best of you leaving you to abandon them at his mid-thighs. he huffs a laugh at your desperation, helping you pull your panties to the side and guide yourself onto his cock.

you whimper at the intrusion, going down slowly. he sucks in a breath through his teeth, throwing his head back. you can’t help but stare at him, his hair framing the art that is his face, his complex scar he’s so ashamed of hidden from your view.

all the whole carl is looking at you like a goddess, half lidded eye raking along your body. your hands are unsteady on his chest, trying your best to steady yourself and bounce on him properly.

your arms wrap around his neck and you lean down to kiss him. it’s a tad softer this time, carl wants to savor this as long as he can. his arms go around your waist, leaving you to grind on him instead. the kiss is messy, mostly heavily breathing into each others mouths trying to stay as close as possible.

carl leans back, opening his mouth to speak but all that comes out is a strangled moan. you can tell he’s close by how his hips messily snap up into yours. you stop your movements, causing carl to whine at the loss of pleasure. you lock your lips with his and bring your hand up to wrap around his cock.

you lead his hand down and his thumb finds your clit, rubbing fast causing whimpers to fall from your lips. his brows furrow and his mouth falls agape while he watches your pretty hand finish him off.

your heavy breaths are the only sound that fill the car until your giggles erupt. “we should head back to alexandria and shower?” carl sighs and shakes his head, tugging your body back down into his,

“later, stay with me.”

taglist :: @carlslvr @herrera2k @hiro--aoki @carlsangel @mozzeralla-stix

[girlfromflor]

56 DAYS (sjy) | PART TWO (FINAL)

pairing: enemie!jake x fem!reader | read the prequel and part one

summary: after your best friend jay made you share an apartment with jake – “the guy you don’t like” –, you have to decide whether you should or not give into the feelings he makes you experience, something possibly pleasant and definitely memorable.

genres: "enemies" (reader is in denial) to lovers, accidental roommates, summer love, also has a bit of angst, smut

warnings: read the first parts otherwise the story won't make much sense, swearing, cliché guys i’m sorry, this is very domestic, they act like an old married couple, jake is in love y’all, lots of tension, some crying, reader likes to be alone, they tease the fuck out of each other (not sexually), they thirst over each other a lot (very, very sexually), they bond over music and food, mentions of two piece bikini, its implied that jake is taller than reader, they overthink a bit, but mostly just lots of fluff, and smut (so MDNI) that includes: sex dream mentions, dirty talk, sub!reader, dom!jake, unprotected sex (y’all know better, this is fiction), praising, biting, slapping, pain kink?, slight degradation, begging, marking, spitting, brief fingering, hair pulling and choking

wc: 15.273 | playlist: 56 days.

a/n: can't believe this is finally out, it took me so long omfg. each part is named after a song in the playlist. anyways, hope you guys like it<3 | taglist: @manuosorioh @tunafishyfishylike

DAY 1 - Do You Like Me?

56 days. it was too much. that was no way you could both get out of this whole thing alive, everyone knew that. you will end up killing jake and then yourself. jay always said that it was going to be fine, because he knew you enough to be aware that the strongest thing between you just wasn’t mutual dislike. when he bid you two goodbye earlier this morning he just asked – really affectionately – for you to be nice to each other, with a knowing look and a teasing smile. you reminisced the moment already missing him and jake, as he drove you two back to your apartment, thought the same.

the ride back home was very quiet, jake didn’t say a word about how you both were going to be very alone together for the next few weeks and you didn’t either. you thought it was best to keep at least some of the good mood of jay’s constant yapper as much as you could, since soon enough all you two would have is each other's company – and that’s a big no-no for you. jake thought – in all his honesty – that no time alone with you was enough. he just couldn’t wait to have you all to himself and, as soon as you step inside the comforting surroundings of your home, jake doesn’t shut up. he spends all day talking your ear off about every single thing there is to talk about, anything he could use as an excuse to chat with you – he even went so far as to chase you around the house so you’d keep listening to his yapping.

it’s day one without jay and you’re already arguing. over what? you didn’t even know anymore. it kind of started because he didn't leave you alone since eight in the morning when you two got home, then he didn’t clean the mess he made in the kitchen while cooking and then he accused you of taking forever to shower – which shouldn’t really matter because he has his own fucking bathroom –, and now you’re just competing over who’s choosing the movie you're gonna watch.

“i got here first, i’ll choose it.” he says, shoving you on the other end of the couch, his big hand locking you in place by your shoulder. he’s trying really hard not to laugh to keep a serious facade, but it’s almost impossible with the way you're so shamelessly throwing a tantrum right now – he wouldn’t imagine you’d actually want to watch a movie with him.

“but you’ll choose something i won't like, on purpose,” you reply, pouting. giving up on trying to sit up and just comically laying there, your arms falling from the cushion – and jake thought you never looked cuter. you didn’t even want to fight, but it seemed like getting on your nerves was his goal for the evening.

“now, that’s simply not true. don’t you like horror movies?” he asks as he skips all netflix suggestions to search for a specific movie he heard you talk one too many times with jay, finally letting go of your arm, alternating his glance between you and the tv as he watched you switch positions and rest your back on the couch’s backrest.

“i do, but–” you pause, there was no way he knew that from you, so how did he know you're fond of horror movies anyways? you ignored your traitor thoughts – the ones that told you he paid true attention to you –, choosing to keep talking, “yes, but i still feel kinda scared sometimes.”

he cooed, like you were a cute child. “well, nothing to worry about then,” he says, and leans a bit closer, arm resting on the couch's backrest right behind you. as he winks at you, flirty ways never quite leaving him, he completes “i’m right by your side.”

you huff, sinking further into the couch, knowing him, there's no way you’d win this fight anyway. but your attitude did nothing to distract him from your flustered face and shy demeanor. “whatever, jake. just choose it already,” you mutter, arms crossed and knees to your chest making it all very entertaining for jake to watch.

the movie he chose was coincidentally your favorite horror movie. you loved it because, even though you knew it all by heart, you couldn’t help but flinch at most jumpscares. it was just so good you always got in a trance while watching it. still, it seemed like it wasn't going to happen tonight. you’d catch jake looking at you side eyed and it both intrigued and angered you. you always asked “what?” genuinely curious to know why he couldn’t just focus on the damn movie, but he brushed you off everytime, making it seem like you were just overthinking.

being completely unaware that jake have paid the movie little to no attention, you keep your eyes on the screen. jake uses this moment to appreciate your presence a little. making an effort to not look at you and distract you from your favorite horror show yet again, he becomes more aware of your presence. he then realizes you didn’t move away from him when he put his arm to rest behind you. you were just sitting there, so naturally – like it happens all the time. does this mean you’re comfortable? it has to be it, right? the thought itself catches him off guard, and he doesn’t want to move even for an inch, if that means you won’t move either. by the time the movie ends his body is a bit sore from trying so hard to stay in the same position – he thought it was kind of ridiculous, but that’s just how love is. 

not wanting it all to end just yet he asks you, “do you want to watch another one? we can make popcorn this time…” his eyes pleading, almost like it would physically sting him if you said no.

you look at him with a puzzled look, but nod in agreement regardless. it’s summer break, you don’t have class tomorrow and nothing else to worry about – also, the night sky outside is just begging for another round of spine-chilling story. making your way to the kitchen to make some popcorn for you two, you say “i’ll make popcorn, do you want to choose the next movie too?” giving him the opportunity to do it felt slightly out of character for you, but you can’t deny that his first one was a good choice – not that you’d let him know that, of course.

“no, you can choose now, pretty girl,” he winks at you as he answers, “but thanks, that’s sweet of you.” 

you roll your eyes, thinking you shouldn’t have said anything. “shut up, jake,” is your reply and you feel a bit disappointed by the fact that you couldn’t think of something else – mind unfocusing, wrapped around the way he had just called you a pretty girl. you try to shake it off and once the popcorn is ready you come back to the living room, settling down on the couch’s end by jake’s left side and pressing play in a thriller you’ve been dying to watch. 

he silently hates that you’re not by his side anymore, but he focuses on the movie. mid-way through it jake’s already on edge, his whole body tense as the movie goes on. he hates the suspense more, he thinks. nevertheless, as soon as he looks at you he almost completely forgets about it, mesmerized by how pretty you look right now – just like always. your hair is not covering your face, so he can see all of it – marvel at all of it. but what really catches his attention is the single piece of popcorn you are holding against your lips – that are slightly parted to accommodate it –, probably too lost in the movie’s story to notice you’re still holding it. your eyes are wide and almost puppy-like while looking at the screen and he wonders just how much inner strength he’s using right now to keep himself from kissing you. because, god, you look so kissable and you’re not even doing anything. it’s insufferable. he shakes his head and gets back to watching the movie, trying to get rid of the tension in his body – one that was not really from the thriller’s suspense anymore.

you sense him shifting on the other end of the couch and decide to look over, only to be greeted by a frown and a clenched jaw. he’s not looking at you – must be entranced by the film’s plot and is caught up in stress from wanting it to come to an end, you think –, but he’s looking way too good for your liking. the slight frown in his brows makes you want to soothe it somehow. maybe with a kiss, while you hold his clenched jaw until it’s not there anymore. your eyes snap back to the screen, what are you thinking? 

the rest of the movie is pure torture, for both of you. the tension that fills both your bodies starts to overflow, spilling all over the living room. it’s nearly tangible, really. it forms a dense atmosphere between you, that has nothing to do with the movie and when it is finally over none of you make comments on it – since you both lost the most important parts while exchanging sneaky looks – just whispering goodnight to each other swiftly, before going to bed. once you’re both in your designated rooms, you take a deep breath – may this be the last time you feel so goddamn tempted by him.

DAY 5 - Rock Your Body

as much as you felt like it would never happen again, it did. it’s been 4 days since your movie night and today was supposed to be the day you’d peacefully deep clean your apartment, according to your schedule. but neither you nor jake wanted to face each other, opting to not live the awkward tension all over again. you did it because you didn’t want to even entertain the idea of getting that close to jake ever, he did it because it was all too much for his poor in love heart to handle.

today was hot, to say the least. the blue sky had no clouds to shield you from the sun’s unforgivable brightness and even though you and jake are in the comfort of your home, the white walls of your apartment do nothing to suppress the impending heat that clings into your bodies. you thanked summer for its magical vibes, sure, but not really when you’re trapped at home doing house chores all morning. cleaning your apartment is usually fun since you used the time to just distract your mind from your current problems and just tidy everything up. but it’d be impossible to do it normally, since your major problem of the moment had a first name, last name and lived in the same place as you.

though it would be an annoying task, jake decided to use the day to try and bring his antics to a stop – just for one day – and, as a way to wave a white flag for you, he started by cleaning his own room, and you took the opportunity to clean yours. but as you finished and went for the next spot you both realized that you’d end up together at some point. ignoring that thought, you just kept doing your designated house chores and everything else you needed to, until you both found yourselves in the kitchen. you had already cleaned everything else, the only things missing were the dishes from breakfast and cleaning the counter – both which were completely simple. you took the dishes, while jake was supposed to clean the counter. but he couldn’t concentrate if his life depended on it.

jake freaked out the minute he saw you walk in. why would you choose to wear such revealing clothes today, he couldn’t take his eyes from you – which he tried, because he didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable. the way your shorts hugged your thighs was a sin itself, but your basically see-through white shirt was what made him fold, the fact that even then his imagination couldn’t possibly feel accurate in the slightest made him weak, he wanted more than just the hint of what’s underneath the fabric. he felt like he needed to do something to leave the losing side – he was feeling like he was falling deeper in a world he wouldn’t survive by himself. so he uses the roasting summer day as an excuse to take his shirt off, wondering why he didn’t do it sooner. the relief was immediate, of course, the sweat that enveloped his skin didn’t have nowhere to stick anymore, and it was a pleasant sensation. but he loved the moment especially because, as soon as he took off his shirt, he heard a cup slide from your hands and hit the sink, softly like you tried really hard to keep it from falling. the smile that adorned his lips was involuntary, but filled with a sense of confidence that extended itself to every other move he made.

you feel all the words that you could possibly say turn into mush at the sight. your mind would be completely empty, if it wasn’t already filled to the brim with thoughts of jake – shirtless, sweaty and fucking hot. he was always handsome, you knew that much, and with his constant work out routine you would imagine that his body was somewhat nicely built, but you fooled yourself into thinking that he’d be average looking. you couldn’t help but stare, completely forgetting your task at hand. why did he take his shirt off? 

you didn’t want him to notice you ogling him so you decided to say something, anything. “ew, jake. put your shirt back on,” was all you could think of, but you didn’t really want him to. the urge to rub your thighs together was getting harder to ignore, so you decided to get back to doing the dishes. jake, on the other hand, was completely amused by your lack of effort in trying to be discreet with your staring, catching you side-eyeing him every five seconds – or maybe, he thought, maybe you just couldn’t help it. the idea of having this kind of effect on you makes him feel like he was responsible for the summer day, the heat spreading on his body and gathering in his abdomen, the sensation just as if he had several butterflies moving in his stomach.

“oh yeah, ‘cause you really want me to cover up, right?” he laughs and turns on his back to resume his own task, but still talking, “pretend all you want, i know that you’d love me walking around shirtless all day.”

“oh my god, you just never know when to shut up, do you?” you say, annoyed that he was pointing it out so matter-of-factly. to remain at least a bit of your composure you decide to put your earphones on and ignore his existence. though, nothing could take you away from the fact that he was you getting all hot and bothered and he was only standing there and looking good – much more than he should, for his own fucking good.

but jake’s unable to let you grasp the peace of mind you crave so much, and decides to throw through the window all thoughts he had earlier about ‘bringing his antics to a stop’, “what are you listening to?” he asks, actually curious. to know what’s your taste in music is to know you better, and he is all for it

“justin timberlake…” you saying, trying to keep your distance. you were already half-way done with your task, doing it as quickly as you could to go to your room. you’re in much need of a shower to cool the fuck down.

“are you serious?” he chuckles, what kind of person listens to JT to clean the house? he doesn’t ask that though, instead he asks, “which song?” pointing to your earphones. “take them off, so i can judge you properly.”

“what makes you think i’m gonna let you talk shit about my music choices?” but you were already taking it off your ears and disconnecting it from your phone – nonchalantly like you weren’t just contracting him –, replaying the song so he could listen to it from the start. your body moving automatically, the desire to please him taking over.

“really? ‘rock your body’?” he shakes his head, but even you could see that he was joking. he loved the song, he had danced to it many times with a drunk jay in their parties. but, instead of dropping the act, he uses it to tease you more, “i would understand if it were ‘mirrors’ or something, but ‘rock your body’ is just a biased choice, really.”

you can’t hold your laughter to save your life. “what the fuck? what does that even mean?” and when you turn to him, you lose it. he had a serious expression on his face and his lips were pressed in a thin line, like it was the most serious topic on the earth. you really don’t know if it is the sum of everything or if he’s just really funny, but your laughter increases. you bend over the sink slightly, trying to find the balance you lost from your cackles. jake tries his best to keep a straight face but then he sees you and gives in, laughing too – it was impossible not to, you looked so chill at the moment he didn’t want to miss it. and it stays like that for what feels like many minutes, you two laughing and trying your hardest to catch your breath – but failing miserably.

once you calm down, a small smile on both your faces and your chest heaving from the lack of oxygen, you resume your tasks. almost forgetting that you were thirsting over each other just moments ago, the silence that falls between you two is comfortable. but jake didn’t want to keep it that way, so he sighs comically and says, “didn’t know it was that easy to have you laughing like that.”

“it’s not easy, you’re just a complete idiot and i can’t help but find it amusing,” you say, chuckling softly.

as he finishes cleaning the counter, which really shouldn't have taken this long, he smirks at you sentence. “oh, so i amuse you, huh?” his eyebrows wiggling suggestively. 

you had just finished the dishes as well and were drying your hands in the dishtowel, but the moment you heard his words you threw it at jake’s direction with no second thought. he catches it effortlessly and starts to walk in your direction. “you should really learn when to be quiet…” you say, and you meant it to be harsh, but your voice is wavering. his tall and broad frame was closer than you were used to and the fact that he was still shirtless wasn’t helping your situation at all. suddenly, you were hyperconscious of the extremely hot day and how it made you body warm – and possibly his too, and you wanted very much to know just how much –, the way lips parted as he looked at you, the way he towered over you and the way his eyes seemed darker now, up close – the way his chest stuttered when he finally trapped you in your position, leaning in the sink counter.

“you always say that, but i never see you make any effort to shut me up,” he says, but his voice is low, like he’s sharing a secret – a dark and seductive one. “isn’t that what you want, princess? to shut me up?”

your heart is racing, but your mind is rather calm. even though you want to deny it, you know what he was hinting at, and you want it. you crave it. “yes…” you say, voice just like a whisper, a plea.

“yeah?” he says, and closes the distance between you, clearly affected by your small, but important, confession. his warm body – warmer than yours, you notice – presses into yours ever so slightly, like he didn’t want to startle you – like you were in a dream and neither of you wanted to wake up. his right hand moved to cup your cheek, holding your face with all the worship he has ever known in life, eyes filled – overflowing – with yearning. “you can do it, baby. ”

but he wasn’t proposing, it wasn’t a suggestion. he was encouraging you to do it – egging you to go ahead and fucking kiss him, challenging you to give in. your pout comes involuntarily, the movement small but attracting his eyes to your lips – your pretty and really fucking temptable lips. knowing you can’t refuse it – knowing you don’t want to –, you tilt your head up. his reply comes immediately, coming down to brush your lips together eagerly. your voice can barely be called a whisper when you speak, “shit, jake… you know i want to.”

the way his name leaves your lips so beautifully – so appealing – makes his knees buckle. he suppresses a moan, mind going overdrive at the fact you just so openly confessed your wish – because he knew what it meant, how much it meant. then his left hand pulls you closer by your waist, as he does it he swears you can listen to the way his heart beats desperately in his chest. and you are so engrossed in the moment, so wrapped up in the suffocating tension between you that when your phone buzzes and starts ringing on the counter next to you, you both jolt. the sound sharp, cutting through whatever you two were just sharing and it takes you a moment to come to your senses.

picking your phone up, you hardly have the strength to talk, but you voice it regardless, “it’s jay…” and jake only nods, saving all words of disappointment for when he gets his turn to talk to jay, privately. you pick the video call up and wait for jay to greet you, not bothering to go to your room. jake barely moves an inch, he wants to know if you’ll try to push him away once jay sees you two. oddly enough, you don’t do it.

“hey! how’re you doing? is that jake next to you? great, i wanted to talk with you both! have you had lunch yet?” jay’s voice sounds like a rap song. he was so excited to talk to you after four whole days of not listening to your voice.

and as the conversation goes on and both you and jake catch up with a very observant jay, you come to terms that maybe – just maybe – you were eager for the next opportunity you’d get to have jake so close – maybe to finally kiss him, even if you’re interrupted.

DAY 11 - Baby Blue Movie

you didn't think this day would come, but you couldn't wait to get home. ever since the day you almost kissed jake, you decided to go out more – alone preferably. but not even then you could escape him completely. sometimes he was a better company than people you were related to. after spending an afternoon at your mother's house, your energy was completely drained. sure, you loved your family, but you can't ignore disrespect. your mother's childhood was completely different from yours and it's obvious that it would have repercussions in your adulthood, considering that she always voiced that she knew – within maternal standards – what was best for you. and it gets tiring, you lost count of how many times you tried to make her understand your point of view and now you just ignored her complaints – usually successfully, but today it unfortunately didn’t happen.

as you unlock the door, you pray that jake isn't in his playful mode. it would be extremely hard to deal with it today, but when you enter the house and take off your shoes, you can't fool yourself. he was already leaning against the wall that separated the entrance of the house from the living room, a tiny smile on his face and a sarcastic comment on the tip of his tongue. you mentally prepare yourself not to explode at him. after all, he wasn't to blame for anything – he couldn’t possibly be aware of the horrible day you just had. you don’t even greet him as you try to make your way to your room. but he doesn’t move an inch. with lack of something else in mind, you stop in front of him, waiting for him to say whatever lame joke he thought, already thinking of a possible retort. the whole time he watches you – your pretty face contorted in a serious expression he's not usually used to – he thinks that, maybe, you’re mad at him, but he can’t think of something he could have done to make you angry like that. he doesn’t want to overthink anything, so he decides to break the silence. "did… something happen?" voice silent, soothing, like you would bleed if he sounded hostile – or even indifferent, actually. 

and, god, you wanted to yell at him. scream with all the pent up stress you endured all day, because how dare he speak to you like that? like you are fragile, like you need to be taken care of – like he needs to take care of you. the thought of being the object of his tenderness infuriates you. to be seem like you lack affection to the point you’d accept his nice words and gentle eyes. because you would never do that, no. you wouldn’t just give in because he was being kind to you for the first time since you met. but, god, did you want to. with jay’s absence you had no one else – which was kind of depressing, but you didn’t really mind – and with jake’s constant attempts in making you open up to him, it got increasingly harder to not let your guard down. because god knows how hard you’ve been trying to keep your distance, but after today’s stressful events you just wanted some sort of display of affection – something to remind you that you matter and that you are deserving of love just like anyone else is – and the fact that you received it with no second thought apparent from jake made you weak. it made you want to fight him to remain some sort of composure but also apologize for ever misjudging him – apologize for thinking he wouldn’t comfort you at all. but you didn’t do either of those. instead, you look down at your feet taking a deep, shaky breath, murmuring an almost inaudible “yeah… it did, actually.”

nothing could have prepared him for that. he genuinely thought you would brush him off and go to your room. he could have even been fine if a mean, snarky remark came out of your mouth, like it usually happens. but, you didn’t – why didn’t you? why would you answer him honestly and looking so goddamn helpless, like you were in much need of a hug. and for a second, that was precisely what he went to do. however, giving in to those impulses felt like overstepping a boundary, and that was the last thing he wanted to do, especially now that you were letting him see you vulnerable – even if it’s barely. so he tried to not look so terrified of this new territory and went with what felt most secure, wanting to reassure you somehow. “do you want to talk about it?” his voice is casual and steady, like it happens every week and he can perfectly deal with it – except it doesn’t and he can’t, the thought of you allowing him any close to you emotionally makes him dizzy, eager and feeling rather protective.

“shit…” you chuckle inevitably. he was supposed to drop the subject and yet here he is, still trying to get to you. but you try to keep yourself grounded, all your anger and stress has dissipated into pure sadness so far, if he pushes any further you’ll cry. and as you look for a way to put out what is going on in your mind, he wonders what had happened, considering he never saw you like that before. he was ready to hunt down to the gates of hell whoever dragged you to that state. “uh, no,” you sigh. “actually, it would be– yeah. well– ” you stumble over words, another frustrated sigh leaves your mouth and your hands come to face, hiding the obvious emotion written all over it. when you look back at him your eyes are already teary, your hands shake a little as you bring them down, your lips wobbly. you manage to let out a broken “i don’t know, jake…” but by the time you sniffle, about to let your tears stream down your face, jake is right on you. 

his left arm circling your middle pulling you towards him, his right hand on the back of your head tucking your face in his chest and, as he tightly hugs you for a few seconds, he keeps on saying “it’s fine, okay? it doesn’t matter, princess.” so lovingly, it does the job of distracting you from your little meltdown. you notice the way the hug feels so intimate, like it was a forbidden thing to do and you two created a bubble to hide from the world and savour the moment. and it made sense you felt that way, because jake was actually hugging you right now. and you were crying. you were crying in front of jake sim – being comforted by him – and you didn’t care at all. actually, now that you have done all the things you said you weren’t going to, what’s another one, right? that’s what’s in your mind as your arms come to his waist, not to push him away but to further drown yourself in his embrace, taking in his scent. 

and as you two stand there, the dream-like golden beams of light due to the sunset passing through the curtain’s delicate material, your arms around him so willingly and your crying coming down to a halt, jake doesn’t think he could be more content. his heart hurting in his chest knowing that you’re not okay, but also beating as fast as ever before since you’re right there. just so, so close to him, in a way he never thought you'd allow him to. and then he laughs, just a bit, but he can’t help it. and you laugh too, wholeheartedly. because you cannot deny yourself the fact that you too felt content, even though you’re crying and he’s doing that just for the sake of comforting you. but that's precisely what makes it so important – is his effort in doing so the best way he can.

DAY 18 - WA-R-R

you woke up feeling great. it has been so nice to actually have a full break from college, you have time to do all the things you like without worrying about anything. well, almost anything. it’s been a week since the crying incident happened and you two never brought it up again. jake was okay with it. he thought you didn’t want to talk about any of it, since once you felt lighter you just quietly apologized for crying on him like you did and went to your room. but you didn’t know that, and you were starting to feel like a burden. you needed to properly thank him for comforting you, but you had no idea how.

it was currently a quarter past three in the afternoon and you were boiling on your couch from the heat. jake had left for the gym right after lunch and you had nothing to do, beginning to feel unsettled from the boredom. deciding on doing something productive, you take a shower and get dressed to go to the supermarket. you were out of a few things and it would be nice to leave the house and enjoy the weather, despite the fact that you’d much rather go to the beach. once ready, you go to the kitchen to check if you weren’t forgetting anything so you could add to the list, that’s when you hear the front door opening. jake walks in just a few seconds later, eyes roaming over your figure as he immediately catches the scent of your favorite perfume – are you going somewhere? 

his black fit – sleeveless compression shirt and loose dri-fit shorts – knocked the air out of your lungs, but you didn’t have time for that. “i’m going grocery shopping, do you want something?” you ask, pretending to still check the cupboards.

“yeah, actually. but i think it’s best if i go with you…” he says casually, like he wasn’t dying to have a domestic day with you – going to the market, choosing what you’re going to do for dinner, helping you carry the grocery bags. “you know…? so you won’t buy anything wrong.”

you scoff, turning to look at him. “you’re projecting, you know i wouldn’t mistake your protein bars or whatever,” you say, rolling your eyes and propping yourself on the counter. you glance at him for a moment, taking in his appearance. faking a mix of disgust and judgment on your face, you point towards his clothes. “are you going like that?”

he checks himself, like he didn’t know what could be wrong with his outfit, and with a confused look on his face he says, “well, yes. why wouldn’t i?”

you arch your brows mockingly, shrugging. “i don’t know. you tell me, jake,” and then you chuckle from your teasing.

he rolls his eyes, feeling dumb for not realizing sooner that you were just messing with him – like always. “you’re so annoying, what the hell…” he murmurs, suppressing an amused laugh and completes, “come on, let’s go in my car.”

his car smelled like him, the woody perfume he would usually wear was everywhere – you failed to notice that the first time you rode with him. as you put the seatbelt on and he starts the car, he says “do you want to put some music on?” giving you his phone and driving off your apartment’s garage.

“sure, what do you wanna listen to?” you ask, rolling through his playlist. the ride to the store was actually short, but a little music is always nice to have. 

“whatever, you can press play on random,” he answers, eyes locked on the streets ahead. just as he finished speaking, he heard the soft beat of a korean r&b melody starting to play very lowly. he went to turn up the volume, only for his hand to bump into yours – you were going to turn the volume up a bit as well, after resting his phone on your thighs. 

a beat of awkward silence passes by and you two sneak a glance between each other. after laughing a bit embarrassed you softly say, “sorry, i was just gonna turn it up a bit.” moving your hand back to your lap.

he chuckles, without really knowing what to do he turns the volume up himself, saying “no, it’s okay. i was going to do the same.”

the song takes over the silence, its nicely tuned vocals filling the space, and you can’t help but share, “i love this song…” your voice is peaceful as you speak.

jake loves the comment, loves that you’re the one starting the small talk. “really? i thought you were more of a 2000s pop type of girl…” he says, bringing back that fact that you were listening to justin timberlake a few days ago.

you smile, “yeah, that too. but there’s nothing quite like korean r&b,” you reply, shrugging your shoulders. and it felt so nice to be comfortable around him, to talk like you do with jay – like you’ve known him for years.

“i mean, you’re right. but i’m suspicious, i was born in korea, so…” he trails off, and as you two feed the conversation more and more with small details of your life, he can only thank his complete genius idea of following you everywhere – it in fact did pay off, eventually.

when you get to the supermarket, the whole shopping process is actually very quick, you buy the essentials and all the things that were in your list, jake buys a lot of barley tea bottles and you two decide that italian food was the best option for dinner today, so you buy everything you need to make pasta – you also have to decide which bottle of wine you were going to buy and that itself takes most of your time, both finding joy in fake disagreeing with each other. after getting to the checkout and paying for your purchases, you and jake walk back to the car and settle everything to ride back home. 

once at home you ask jake to put some music on the TV so you could unpack the groceries and start cooking dinner. surprised that you were offering to make dinner – knowing that usually he’s the one to make dinner and you make lunch – he asks, “why are you so willing saying that you’re gonna make our dinner today?” his voice accusing and wary, like you about to prank him. approaching you after putting on the same playlist that was playing in the car, he starts to help you unpack the grocery bags that were scattered on the counter. 

“can’t a girl feel like cooking twice in a day?” you say, purely to tease him, because after letting out a little laugh you add up almost instantly, “i just wanted to, i don’t know, thank you for being so nice to me the other day.”

“the other day? which day?” he was confused, it was pretty visible by his frown and inquiring voice.

you sigh, not wanting to extend the subject, but clarifying anyway, mumbling “the day that i cried in front of you…”

his realization comes quickly, a soft “ah!” leaving his lips. nevertheless, he didn’t want you to think that it was anything other than the bare minimum – you didn’t have to make him a meal just because you felt like you needed to pay him back. both of you knew that he had no second intentions when he comforted you. “you know, you don’t have to–” he starts, but you interrupt him.

“i know, i know. but i really want to,” you say, voice steady like you practiced the speech all week – which you did, but that was nothing but a small detail, he didn’t have to know. “i want to show that i’m grateful somehow, so just let me.”

he just nods, pleased that your communication was improving. dinner time was really nice, you two shared a bottle of wine, talked a lot about how your music taste was actually similar and how cooking can be a fun activity once you grow comfortable with it – you were both kind of tipsy at that point.

as he helps you tidy up the kitchen, he cherished the evening you had. it was nice to know that you started to share a bond now, even if you still tried to keep your distance somehow. “thanks, for the dinner,” he says, cheeks flushed both from the alcohol and from the way you were so close to him, drying the dishes as he washed them.

you hummed, feeling sleepy from the alcohol and tired from the day. you lay your head on his shoulder – as much as you can with the height difference – and answer, “it was nice, right? we should do it again some day.”

jake can only laugh as he shakes his head – you were just too cute. “yeah… we should.”

DAY 23 - Let Go

you couldn’t be happier, today was finally the day you were going to the beach. as you got your things ready, you talked to jake about how dumb it was for you to have delayed this for so many days. jake has the idea of making some snacks and you help him do everything. throughout all the time that it takes for you and jake to make sandwiches and pack your beach bag and his backpack with everything you were going to need, you were talking nonstop. it was inevitable with the way you started to get along the past few days since your dinner together, honestly. you were also much more at ease in his presence, so you started to share a few more wholesome moments. still, he judges your choices for two piece bikinis and you say it was best if he didn’t take his shirt off – to save people’s sanity – and you fight over which snacks you were going to take in your little trip. it was all really fun, you could never try to deny that. once everything was ready, you two got ready to go.

the ride to the beach was rather calm. the music in the background was soothing and the beach you chose to go to wasn't far from your place, so jake drove you there and in less than an hour you were in the sand, sitting on your beach mat. the day was summery just like the others that have passed, only this time you could sunbathe and swim – a perfect day, you would say. jake was sitting by your side, watching you put on sunscreen – admiring you, that was more like it.

when you’re done, he points towards the sunscreen bottle on your hand and doesn't think twice before asking, “can you do my face and back?” he watches your concentrated face, but it doesn't change a bit, you stay expressionless. he tries again, “please…?”

you grimace, and move to sit face to face with him. “what? you can’t do it?” you ask, but it’s not really a criticism.

he laughs, and flicks your forehead. “of course i can, you brat. it’s just better if you do it,” he says, like it’s so obvious and you fake a look of disgust. he adds, “i can’t miss a chance to have your hands all over me, baby,” and winks.

you roll your eyes, but start to apply some sunscreen on his face, answering, “shut up and close your eyes, loverboy.” you use the moment to take in his appearance, closed eyes and parted lips from his talking. he was always so beautiful for you, you wished you could let him know in a way that didn’t felt like you were putting your heart in his hands – which was impossible, because that was the only kind of fondness you knew with him, devotion.

he does what you tell him, closing his eyes, but he keeps on talking – a smile on his face all throughout it. “you can’t push me away, princess. i know how your mind works by now,” his voice filled with enjoyment.

“yeah, yeah. i know, jake, you say that everyday,” you reply, but you're smiling too. finding joy in his words, but oblivious to how evident his feelings were. “okay, face done. now i’m gonna put it on your back, turn around for me, please.”

he turns around, his eyes glinting with unmistakable affection from your disponibility to do it for him – the way you ask him ‘please’ sticks to his mind a little more than it's considered healthy. once you’re done he gets up on his feet and holds your hand. “come on, we’re going in the sea.”

“woah there, loverboy. i know you need me to do everything with you, but at least wait until the sunscreen soaks in.” you say, and use the fact that he was still holding your hand to push him down to sit by your side once again.

he complies, his thigh brushing against your as he settles down next to you. you both take in the view. the sea is rather calm, the waves seem to crash slowly. the sun is unforgiving, but in a pleasant way, and the eventual breeze that hits your bodies is a nice way to recover from the heat. you don’t realize that you’re still holding hands, but jake is very aware of the act. so much so he fights the urge to stroke his thumb along your hand, so that you won’t grow annoyed from his display of affection. it’s not until an old lady passes by, selling handmade bracelets, that you notice just how close you guys are to each other.

the woman stops by you two and asks, very fondly, “oh, hello, young man. would you want to buy a bracelet for your girlfriend?” she’s pointing at you, and oddly enough you don’t feel like correcting her. in fact, you don’t say anything, you just smile at the lady and turn to look at jake, waiting to see what he’ll do.

“oh, yes! do you have matching ones?” he asks her, paying you no attention. his response comes immediately, and you’re caught off guard at just how natural it came to him – like you were actually boyfriend and girlfriend, like it wasn’t even a thing to consider in the first place.

they get into a conversation about her process of making the bracelets and how much they cost, eventually he buys two – only then he lets go of hand, because he needed to pay the old woman – and she thanks your attention as both of you wave her goodbye.

your head snaps in his direction. giving him a quizzed look, you don’t even have to say anything for him to speak, “look, it wasn’t going to change anything in her life if we said we weren’t together. if anything we’d just make her ashamed of her mistake…” his voice is quiet, like you’d argue with him for what he did. 

but you don’t. in fact, you just say, “i’m surprised by how easily you played along, but i’m not gonna kill you. relax,” you’re chuckling, and you add “i didn’t get to see which ones you bought…”

he stares at you, dumbfounded. “what?” he asks, wondering if he heard you wrong. were you just letting that slide? like he just didn’t pretend you were his girlfriend to a total stranger? weren’t you the one who refused to let him close? “did you enjoy being my girlfriend, is that it?” he teases, but he’s not joking. he actually wants to know this time, he needs the rest it’ll provide him.

you cough, choking a bit. what should you do? did you enjoy it? you’re not sure, but for some reason you didn’t want him to think you didn’t. not only because upsetting him felt so mean of you, but because you realized that you weren’t opposed to the idea of dating him. “god, don’t make it weird and let me see the bracelets…” you say, changing the subject. but decided to mumble in addition,  “if i didn’t say anything, it means that i didn’t mind.”

he smiles, and it outshines the sun. jake wasn’t one to be pessimistic, but he often opted for a more realistic approach when it came to you, so to see you opening up like that – letting him genuinely see you and understand you – made his body shiver with anticipation of what you’d share next. he senses your will to not deep dive into the matter so he gives into your wishes to see the bracelets. “here, give me your hand so i can put it on you…” he says, but he can barely control his excitement. he ties the bracelet in your wrist and asks for you to do the same for him, both of you admiring the colorful object that now was a reminder of a thing only you two shared. you fall into a nice, comfortable silence. the unspoken feelings surrounding you but not in a scary way, the sounds of the waves crashing doing nothing to drown your rapid heartbeats. in moments like these you question just how much you should try to keep jake away, only for you to choose not to do it at all – you were just letting it flow, it would pain you more to pretend you didn’t like what was growing between you. 

and that’s just how the day goes. you swim in the sea and share your snacks, it truly feels like a beach episode from your favorite anime. once you get back home, the tiredness from the long day – even though it was fun and uplifting – sinks in. after you and jake have straightened things up and showered, you both decide to settle on the couch.

you were hardly registering the movie that was playing on the screen. jake had his hand on your head, fingers mindlessly scratching your scalp, a loving gesture that only pushed you closer to sleep. as you started to drift off, your head found its way to jake’s shoulder, face hiding on his neck. jake gasped at the proximity, but after a few seconds he adjusted you on his body, hugging your waist. before either of you could realize, the two of you had already fallen asleep.

DAY 35 - All Mine

when jake wakes up, he’s a mess. he feels his hair sticking on his forehead due to his sweat. his legs feel shaky, his boxers sticky and his heart is hammering in his ribcage. it takes him a few moments to realize that he’s laying in his bed, having fallen asleep with you the night before while you two played cards late at night. the next thing he realizes is that you’re no longer with him. he checks his phone, it’s half past eight in the morning. he slumps back on the mattress, right hand coming down to palm the evident erection on his sleeping shorts, cock still hard despite the fact that he had clearly cummed during his sleep. he had woken up from a very messy, very erotic dream, his breath was calming down as he took in his surroundings, but his mind was still in a haze from the vivid memories from his dream – where you and him did all the things he craved to do to you. his right hand’s grip tightens around his clothed girth, his arousal growing while he feeds his imagination, thinking just how cute you’d look with your eyes tight such and your mouth hanging open as your lips let out the most beautiful sounds of his name, while he’s buried inside–.

he sits up, instantly. he couldn’t act like he lived alone, and even though he very much wanted to get off right now, he wouldn’t want to have you walk in on him – well, he wouldn’t mind if he felt like you would be okay with it, but he couldn’t know if that was the case. the past few days were wonderful, he loved every second of it. you and him were growing closer and closer, to the point you did everything together. after the day you spent on the beach, both of you decided to start hanging out more often. you did all sorts of things – you even did go back to the beach, going to a drive-in that was happening nearby – and it was starting to get hard to avoid the inevitable. jake was beginning to break, the time you’ve been spending together only further pushing him to his darkest, most lust-filled thoughts. he wondered if you felt the same, or if he was just another homie to you. if you want him the way he wants you it shouldn’t be hard to notice, right? he thinks that he should pay more attention to your body language, to see if you give him any opening to tumble over the edge of the hanging tension. but then he wonders, where are you anyway? intrigued, he leaves his room to look for you, only to find an empty house. you weren’t anywhere to be found, neither in the kitchen nor in your room. he sits on the couch, and as he was about to text you to know your whereabouts he hears the clicking of the keys on the front door. he sits back, checking his bulge briefly – that had subsided considerably – and waits for you to show up, fingers interlaced, his hands resting on his lap.

you had woken up pretty early and decided to buy strawberry cheesecake for breakfast at a bakery nearby and some coffee at your favorite coffee shop, choosing to not text jake because you thought you’d be back before he woke up – which clearly did not happen. when you see him sitting on the couch you stop, standing comically – awkwardly – at the hall that separates the living room from the kitchen.

“hi, you’re up,” you state, looking at him – eyes roaming over his figure, he seemed sus. not waiting for his answer you turn left, walking towards the kitchen counter to settle what you bought for breakfast.

jake is hot on your tail, replying, “where have you been, huh?” his tone is playful, but you can tell he’s actually curious to know.

“uh… i don’t see how it concerns you?” you answer, teasingly. your smile the most genuine it could ever be, since jake with his ‘recently woken up’ look was the cutest. then you add, “i bought coffee, and cheesecake.”

“oh god, yes! love me some sweets in the morning,” he says, settling down at the counter while eyeing your figure – the fabric of your jeans shorts seemingly sinfully pretty around your thighs, your baby blue crop top making him want to ogle your breasts. were you always this hot? “uh, thanks for bringing coffee for me too…”

“don’t mention it,” you say, at last. sitting down on his side you two start to eat, then you remember something. “hey, how did you sleep? i woke up in the middle of the night and went to my room. sorry, if i woke you.”

jake feels relief wash over his entire figure to know you weren’t there if he made any suggestive sounds during his sleep. “actually, i’m a heavy sleeper, so you wouldn’t wake me like that,” he answers and after pausing for a few seconds he finishes, “i slept ok, without crazy dreams or whatever.”

you laugh, his words seeming rushed for you and oddly explanatory, which was out of character of him – especially since he was so slow in the mornings. was he nervous? “ok, jake. if you say so…” you say, just for the sake of getting on his nerves – and maybe to get him to say something about what really happened.

“yah! what are you suggesting? i slept like a baby, ok? with baby dreams…” he states, defensively. and you laugh harder, your hand coming to cover your mouth in an attempt to muffle at least some of it – which didn’t happen.

in between your gasps for air, you say, “oh, so you dreamed of unicorns and princesses then.” your teasing sentence only half well delivered, since you were still trying to recover from your fit of laughter.

jake’s mind was racing while he nervously tried to change the subject. however, in between his thoughts of his not exactly baby-like dream, he lets out the first thing that comes to his mind, “if you’d call yourself princess, then i guess you could say that, yeah…” he says, his voice sounding playful. you stall, confusion written all over your face.

“wait, does that mean you- did you dream about me?” you ask, incredulous. you brows coming together to emphasize the chaos that was your mind at his statement. he laughs, shaking his head, truly amazed at how easily he gave himself in. knowing that there was no denying what he said just now, he only nods, taking yet another slice of the cheesecake you were sharing. but you had long forgotten how to eat, in fact you don’t think you can do anything else at the moment. 

letting your curiosity speak louder you decide to try your luck. “what… did you dream about?” you ask, voice small despite its certainty. you decide to not look at him, eyeing the plate in front of you as he ate the last piece of the cheesecake. you take a sip of your coffee.

“you, duh,” he says matter-of-factly, and laughs like you weren’t dying from not knowing. “why do you want to know, anyway? does it matter that much, princess?” his tongue brushes the inside of his cheek, trying to suppress the smirk threatening to take place in his lips. the situation’s much more entertaining than he initially thought it would be. 

“oh my god, you’re so annoying,” you huff and get up, making your way to the sink to wash the dishes you just used. he stares at you, amused at the tantrum your throwing over something he thought you’d just brush off, probably just making a comment about how in love he’s in with you – jokingly, of course.

“okay, okay. i’ll tell you, alright?” he says, bringing his hands up as if surrendering to you. you stop what you’re doing just to turn your head to him slightly. you eye him, an unreadable expression in your face and he chuckles a bit – he really does like you. at last, he says “i dreamed i got hurt in a zombie apocalypse and you left me behind…” his voice is obviously playful, but you fail to realize he was being ironic.

so you only sigh, your lips forming an involuntary pout as you hummed in acknowledgement, turning back to dry your hands after you finished your task. his answer breaks your expectations, leaving you confused as to why you thought he’d say something else – why you wanted him to say something else. maybe it was the way he was staring at you since you arrived, or the way he seemed so nervous talking about his dream, you thought maybe it meant he saw you in a way that wasn’t just ‘his roommate’. but, maybe it was all in your head anyways.

he comes behind, not touching you whatsoever, his hands finding their place at the counter in front of you the same time you finish your task – and he realizes he’s feeling oddly familiar with the situation, like a deja vu. he whispers then, voice seductive and full of intentions, “did you want me to say that i had a erotic dream?” his question catches you off guard, you use your now free hands to support yourself at the edge of the sink. you head falls to your shoulder, eyes closing as a sigh passes your lips. fuck, why is he dirty talking to you all of sudden? why do you like it? you decide that all your doubts and worries are for the future you to deal with, right now you just want to know how far this can go. still, you can help the nervousness that gets a hold of your demeanor. shaking your head, you start, “n-no, that’s not it, why would you–”

but jake was not having it. he cuts you off mid-sentence, face coming closer to your ear, lips brushing over it ever so slightly while he whispers lowly – as if you were in a room filled with people and he only wanted you to hear –, “are you really going to lie to me like that, baby?” and just like that you’re speechless, but that doesn’t matter one bit, because jake keeps on talking, “i dreamed you were underneath me doing all sort of cute noises while i fucked you on my bed. is that what you expected me to say? or was that pout on your pretty lips for another reason, princess?”

“w-what…?” you utter, confused. he’s getting to you too damn fast for your liking – your panties growing damp at the thought of him having a wet dream about you. you speak your mind, “what the fuck, jake? how can you say things like that…”

“like what? so directly? you know i’m not one to play games, princess,” he says and uses the little switch of topic to spin you around. his hands find your waist to urge you to face him and you comply, but you don’t look into his eyes yet, embarrassment having a tight grip around you. so his right hand comes to your face and you barely feel his fingers as he tilts your chin up softly, bringing you to face him so he can lock eyes with you, his hand falling to your waist a second after. his gaze is intense, filled with emotion – one you’re yet to allow yourself to admit aloud you reciprocate. the silence starts to grow bothersome so you decide to voice your thoughts once again, not really expecting this moment to turn into a heart to heart conversation – but honestly, you love that jake provides this for you.

“i know. but, you’re making me nervous,” you confide in a mumble, fidgeting fingers on your back but you don’t break eye contact – your puppy eyes fucking jake’s mind up. he knows what you mean, you’ve talked about this before. you’re not one to let people in, so to have him so casually stripping you out of your comfort zone can be really stressing – it doesn’t mean you don’t want him to, though.

jake cuckles, he does think you’re adorable from time to time – everyday – and he’s determined to make you comfortable with what you want – well, that being him – so he makes a point of saying, “that’s cute, princess. you’re only nervous because you keep refraining yourself from doing what you want…” he says, almost melodically. “and i know very well that you want me.”

there’s a knowing glint in his eyes and you know he knows, that’s what your relationship was always about – he’s been obvious about his desires, you were the one who poorly attempted to deny it. so you sigh defeated, as you watch his pretty eyes and easy smile. you touch his arms, hands traveling up to his cheeks where you leave a soft squeeze with your palms, squishing them together. you both let out a giggle, then your fingers intertwin on his nape, your body closing the distance between you and him. 

jake is not surprised that you took the initiative, but he couldn’t believe that it was actually happening. his heart is beating unforgivingly in his chest, it aches the best kind of pain and he lets out a sound of relief, pleasure and pure fulfillment. his hands grips your waist harder trying to ground himself, but nothing is enough – he is losing all self control and he couldn’t care less. because your hands were on his neck, nails scratching lovingly the back of his head, your chest pressed on his and your lips passionately kissing him – having you on his hands for him to touch and hold was messing with his head. the kiss that takes place is outstanding, it makes both you and him breathless way too quickly. you pull away first, your teeth prodding your bottom lip for a moment before jake is on you again.

this kiss is much more devastating than the first one, when your tongues meet you can hardly contain the whine that tries to leave your lips, but maybe it’s the way jake shoves you against the counter behind you that knocks the air out of your lungs. none of you know how long you stay making out, your fingers interlace on jake’s locks and he anticipates the moment you will pull it, but you don’t. he grows impatient, hands sliding from your waist to your hips, where he squeezes hard, then he pushes himself from you, interrupting the kiss in the middle. you’re panting, chest heaving and lips red and swollen from the kissing, the sight making heat spread all over his body and his arousal only increases, the bulge on his pants begging to be simulated and he wonders how affected you are by all of this. despite the hot feeling of your hasty breath, nothing really gives away your inner state. and you try to keep it that way, but your mind is foggy and you can barely form coherent thoughts aside from the burning lust, that’s all you can discern. you thought you could be stronger when it came to your sexual desires, but jake fucks up all your attempts in keeping a composed attitude. because you wanted nothing more than to let go and be led, to allow him to do whatever he wanted to. that’s how much you trusted him, how much you craved him.

you’re so lost in your submissive reverie that you fail to realize that jake actually said something. it isn’t until his hands cups your cheeks that your attention turns to him.

“hm…?” you hum and it’s supposed to be a question, but you can really say something else. he understands, though, slowly catching on to what your behaviour meant. 

testing the waters, he asks “do you want to go upstairs, baby?” softly, trying not to sound like you had to. you nod, eagerly so, making him smile, tilting his head to the side. “you’re much too quiet, princess,” he says, his smile fading to a smirk as continued, “go on, use your words.”

the way he says it is borderline condescending. the patronizing superiority twists your insides and your heart rate speeds up, a familiar feeling making its way to your stomach like butterflies. you curse every cell in your body for being so responsive. you focus on the fact that it’s a simple question, one he already knows the answer to. “yes…” you voice out, not without stuttering and jake is amazed. 

he pushes further, wanting to strip every layer of this newfound trait of yours. “huh? yes what, princess?” and it’s a trap, because he’s not expecting anything specific, you may or may not know what to answer, it doesn’t matter because jake is doing it with the sole purpose of teasing you.

but you don’t know that, and even if everything in you is telling you to address him with a respectful honorific, you also don’t want to give him the satisfaction of winning that so easily, so you do what’s best, you play innocent. “yes, i wanna go upstairs,” your voice sounding much more controlled and with barely any sides of your emerging submissiveness.

jake laughs at your answer, eyes scanning you with unmistaken amusement. he shakes his head, grabbing your hand as he speaks, “you’re impossible.”

he uses your intertwined fingers to pull you with him, all the way until you’re passing through his bedroom door. once inside, he sits on the end of his bed, hands coming to your hips as he looks up at you. that’s when everything sinks in. nothing could’ve prepared you for the devastating reality that you’re a moment away from letting jake undress you – letting him fuck you. his alluring presence drowns your senses, you want nothing else than to please him. 

he sees it in your eyes, so he feels obligated to act on it. “come sit, princess,” he says and pulls you to his lap. you fall right after, thighs finding their place on his sides as your hands touch his chest. “you’re so pretty,” his hands are caressing your waist under the fabric of your shirt. “so, so pretty,” he adds, placing kisses on your cheeks, and then your neck. “makes me want to ruin you all the time,” he pulls you even closer, the motion making your hips collide with his. his dick impossibly hard underneath you, you fists his shirt at the feeling. he started to leave hickeys on your skin, his path well marked as he love bites his way to the valley of your breasts. you can feel the smirk on his lips as he trails kisses on your skin, but you are engrossed in the intoxicating feeling of his hands traveling up your body. when you realize, he’s already taking your top off, eyes shamelessly falling to your naked torso. “you always leave the house without a bra on?” he asks, not really accusing you of anything, his hands instantly coming to grope them, thumbs tenderly flicking your nipples and your response is almost embarrassingly quick. you’re taken by surprise, a soft moan slips past your lips and your hips grind on him. he appreciates the sound, his dick twitching in his sleeping shorts as he squeezes your boobs harder. 

you answer him, voice coming weaker than you expected as you speak, “no… not really.” you have your hands sliding under his shirt, pulling the fabric with you as you feel the warm skin of his chest on your palms, you want to see him too. “can you… take your shirt off too?”

“look at you, being so well mannered…” he says and you roll your eyes, his praise makes your panties grow wetter by the minute. he keeps talking though, making no move to remove his shirt just yet. “although, i think that there’s one word missing, princess…”

you understand him immediately, the words coming out easily, “please…? can you take your shirt off, please?” you rephrase, and jake’s mind goes over drive. he already wants you begging for him.

is almost funny, to know that you two are living the moment he has been anticipating ever since he was first trapped with you in that bathroom in a random college party. he’s lightheaded from the unceasing sensations he experiences with you and his smile is the perfect display of it, breathtaking and contagious. he lifts his arms for you to finish taking the shirt off his torso, you drop it on the floor. his hands settle back on you, falling on your thighs with a smack on which one, as he gets back to trailing kisses down your neck, until his tongue envelops your nipple. he’s still smiling when you moan from the sudden stimulation, but he moans with you after you grind down on him at a specific hard bite he delivers. “you’re into pain or something?” he asks you, moving to your other boob, teeth grazing the skin before he bites it, softer than he wanted, just to test his theory.

you right hand tangles in his hair, fingers gripping the locks but not really pulling at it – which he really wants you to –, your left hand splayed on his chest, nails threatening to dig on his skin. he laughs in disbelief, biting harder – not enough to leave a mark, yet –  and your hips move involuntarily on his, humping his throbbing dick, desperate for a real form of stimulation between your legs. “oh god, you are into it.” he states, and delivers another slap on your thigh.

you bite your lip, and say “you do realize how sadistic this makes you look, right?” in defiance, but your affected tone makes no effect whatsoever. 

his answer is instant, “and you do realize how much of a masochist i think you are now, right?” his mocking tone getting to your and further wetting your panties, that must be completely destroyed by now. he continues his assault in your chest, that already has some red and purple marks blooming here and there.

“i-i’m not…” you start, both hips and voice stuttering from his movements, the fabric of your jeans starting to make you uncomfortable as you rub yourself harder on his erection, jake’s hands groping your skin from the stimulation, the rhythm of your movements torturously slow for his liking. “i’m not a masochist,” you manage to say, and jake laughs from your little act. 

“no, just a painslut...” he says, and your muffled whine is enough of an answer for him. “but don’t worry, baby. you make such a pretty slut for me.”

“fuck…” is all you can mumble, pussy clenching around nothing as you keep grinding on his bulge, dry humping him for all your worth. but jake had enough of that, he wants more – he needs more. so he grabs one of your thighs’ underside with one hand, the other going to your waist as he moves you on the bed. in a second you're laying on your back on the mattress, but you don’t have time to be surprised. jake touches your knee in an attempt to get you to open your legs and you comply, slowly moving them apart to accommodate his hips.

his hands travel to undo the button of your shorts, fingers pulling the zipper down all the way but he doesn’t slide the fabric off your legs. instead, he stuffs his hand inside of it, fingers gliding over your dripping wet slit. “shit, you’re fucking soaked, princess…” he almost growls, forehead resting on your shoulder. “want to fuck you till we pass out,” it’s just a harmless confession, one he doesn’t truly mean, but you don’t care.

“so do it,” you sound desperate, his index and middle finger teasing your entrance while his thumb presses on your clit. he wasn’t moving, and it was driving you insane. you thrust your hips forward, trying to get him to do something, but he doesn’t.

he chuckles, his smirk hidden from your eyes, but you could feel it when he pressed his lips to your ear, leaving an openmouthed kiss in it. “so soon? where’s the fun in that?” he says rhetorically, he has been dying to bury himself inside you, but he still wants to play with you some more. “need to prep you first, baby.”

your moan is music to his ears when he inserts his fingers in you with a quick motion, pleasure running through your veins. but it wasn’t enough. you didn’t want that, you wanted his dick inside you. “f-fuck, jake… jake, please,” is the first glimpse of a plea, and jake is relishing on it. he quickens his movements, fingers working on your walls like magic. he brings his thumb back to your clit, drawing little imaginary circles in it and your head falls back, back arching as you push your hips forward again. “jake, j-jake… please, fuck me. wanna cum on your cock.”

although he really wanted to, he couldn’t resist your plea. he doesn’t need to be told twice, taking his fingers out slowly and helping you out of your shorts and underwear. he takes his shorts off along his boxers right after, his dick slapping his stomach as he does so.

once he’s between your thighs there isn’t much to be said, he’s already guiding his dick to your entrance when your legs wrap around his waist. you both moan at the intrusion, the stretch making your mind go blank as your head falls to the side, right hand finding support on his back as your left hands tangled on his locks. you’re both panting and you barely started, his thrusts are sharp, he reaches so deep in you. your closed eyes and open mouth are better to watch than jake could ever imagine, he wishes he could have this everyday. “oh my god, fuck–” he swears, hand gripping you jaw to give you a kiss. it’s messy, your tongues meet more outside than inside your mouths. when he pulls away there’s a string of saliva connecting you two. his weight is supported on his forearms as he moves to mark your neck mumbling, “y-you feel so good princess, so goddamn good.”

the room smells like sex, your hands try desperately to somehow steady yourself in that moment that didn't seem like reality at all. jake pressed his hips into yours harder and harder with each kiss he left on your neck, his mouth brought you little by little closer to heaven and you let a specific loud whine escape your lips. you could feel his smile as he raised his head so he could kiss your mouth with unquestionable desire once again. you use your legs to pull him closer and his eyes roll back under his eyelids. you arch your back slightly, your chest pressing against his and your fingers – finally – pulling on his strands. jake brokes the kiss to moan and looks at you in that surrendered way he always does. he just couldn't help himself, he needed to ruin you just a little bit more.

“so beautiful, my princess.” his possessive tone making you clench around him, his hand moves from your side to your neck, where he gives it a light squeeze, and then he grabs your cheeks with one hand. not too hard, but enough to make you lift your face. “open your mouth for me, love.” and you comply. your mouth parted slightly and your eyes glued to his, but he’s too lost watching you run the tip of your tongue between your lips to notice. he uses his thumb to open your mouth even wider, naturally salivating at the thought of what he would do next.

when his spit meets your tongue and you swallow without protest, he is gone. the moan he fails to contain comes out muffled as he presses his face back into your neck. the hand that was previously on your cheek goes down to your thigh where he delivers a harsh squeeze. “fuck…” he whispers, inevitably moving his hips to fuck you harder, faster. he was too lost in the feeling, and so were you. 

the intoxication sensation of your orgasm comes quickly, and it’s devastating. jake takes notice of the way your nails run down his back, the other pulling on his hair and your legs impossibly tight around his waist. “would look at that– ah–, you’re going to cum, baby?” he asks, voice low and wavering, “are you?”

you hum, your moans impossible to suppress. you drool on the fabric of the mattress – you were so, so close. jake has other plans, though. “oh, c-come on now, princess… we’ve– ah– talked about it a-already,” he says, hand coming to your neck, adding some pressure – just enough for your eyes to roll back on your closed eyelids. he loves to watch it, his own release coming fast and unforgiving. “use your words.”

“i– fuck– can i cum, jake? p-please…” you start, eyes opening to lock with his as best as you can. “please! jake, ah– i can’t hold it a-anymore…” you cry out, head lolling back once more. “f-feels so good, so good.”

jake can’t hold it back any longer too, hips unrelenting at your begging. “go ahead, baby. cum for me.” he whispers, and it feels like you fall over the edge immediately. the unceasing clenching of your walls only pushing him to his orgasm too, thick ropes painting your inner thigh as he pulls out. the wave of pleasure that overtakes you both is devastatingly good, you can barely discern what's happening as whispered “thank you’s” fall from your lips. when you both fall back to reality you’re sweaty and breathless. he drops his weight on you, arms caging your body as his head finds the comfort of your chest. you giggle and hug his shoulders, eyes too heavy from tiredness to keep them open. you fall asleep before the both of you can say anything. jake senses your calming breath, choosing to clean himself and you up before giving into the temptation of sleep as well. he dresses you on his shirt that was on the floor after putting on his boxers, hugging you from behind whispering sweet nothings to you, lulling himself to sleep.

DAY 37 - Fool For You

you’ve never been one to give in to awkwardness. you pride yourself on being quite a light presence, always funny or trying to make everyone feel comfortable. but it wasn’t until you had sex with jake that it changed. because, sadly, now you’re just always nervous around him. it had been two days since he claimed you for himself – two days and you still haven’t really faced him. what could you do, really? pretend it never happened? act like the big deal it was and possibly ruin everything? acknowledge what happened but act like it's not going to destroy every single wall you've built around yourself?

you felt hopeless and you missed him – so much. because after what you two shared, there was no room for doubt, no room for hiding the undeniable truth. you were deeply, madly and uncontrollably in love with jake. so much so it hurted you. so much so you could tell everyone and you would never feel ashamed of it. but, what about him? how could you ask him if you didn’t even know how to allow yourself to be vulnerable like that? to let him in like he was always there –  although it felt like he had always been part of you, you also couldn’t help but overthink it. you felt like he understood you even if no words were spoken, but would it really be enough for him to know that you loved him? would you be enough for him? did he feel the same? god, did he even like you at all? and as you torture yourself – feeling like you could actually feel a physical discomfort from all the thinking and loving and wanting you had trapped inside you –, jake was losing his mind.

he was in complete despair, like he’ll never have you. all of the time it took for him to get to know you, to get close to you – it felt meaningless –, and now you were slipping right through his fingers all over again. it wasn’t fair. he knew you felt something for him. and it was driving him insane, because if you felt even just a little bit of what he feels, then it was enough for forever. even if you feel just five percent of what he feels for you, you would make it until the end of the world. but it didn't matter, because you hadn’t talked to him yet. he was feeling like he was left to die of starvation, your absence making him hallucinate. making him question just how much he wouldn’t do for you – only so he could finally have you. because he was feeling like he could do it all, but he needed you to come to him. to allow him to truly see you, to truly feel you. so he decided to wait. wait for you to come to terms with the reality you seemed so against living and then he’d do everything – anything to keep you by his side.

even if you weren’t sure about how things would turn out, you know it was you who had to make the first move and when you decide to get your shit together, you walk straight to his room. looking calm on the exterior, but completely wrecked on the inside, yet it’s kinda funny for you. you have nothing to fear anyway, expect for, well, a rejection – but it wasn't really going to stop you. when you get to his door you take a few deep breaths, gathering the courage that was just a few seconds ago all over you but seemed to suddenly vanish. you grow eager, as if it was all coming to realization. it feels so fucking right you could cry, you decide to knock before it all becomes too much. doing it softly, you wait for him to answer, cleaning your sweaty palms on the sides of your sleeping shorts.

jake’s listening to some random “songs for studying” playlist on youtube while scrolling through his media when he hears the soft knock on his door. he freezes, what was happening? he jumps out of bed, looking around checking if anything needed replacing. when he sees everything’s fine he walks to the door, but remembers he had changed into his sleeping clothes, so he goes back to check himself in the mirror, only for him to run a hand through his hair and get right back to the door. once there he doesn’t think twice, swinging the door open. “hi!”

you get startled by the sudden movement. jake looks like he has the energy to run a marathon and is hardly holding himself from doing so. it’s cute. you look at his puppy-like eyes, his lips slightly parted and his hair falling in his brows. you almost say right then and there, but you hold it – waiting for a more appropriate moment. instead, you say “uh, hi.” and then you giggle, looking down to your feet and then back at him. “what are you doing right now?”

he lets out a giggle himself, a bit more at ease now that he knows you’re not there bringing bad news. then he answers, “honestly? nothing,” and he laughs at his own sentence.

“good, can i come in then?” you ask, but before he could even answer you’re already explaining yourself, “it’s just– uh, i want to talk to you…”

he smiles nervously, stepping aside so you can come in. after you walk in, he guides you to his bed by your shoulder and then he lays on his side, propped on his left arm. “tell me all about it, baby.”

the nickname makes goosebumps raise all over your body, but maybe it was the fact that you had acknowledged you want this whole thing so much – maybe it was burning in you all along just waiting for an excuse to be freed. “i… so, i wanted to–” you stutter, growing a bit nervous.

“hey,” he grabs your hands that were in your lap. “relax! you’re kinda freaking me out, you know?” he says, trying to lighten the mood. he could see what you wanted to say was serious but he also didn’t want you to get anxious over it. “i feel like you’re gonna say you're a murderer or something.”

you can only laugh, because he’s such a fucking idiot and you love him so bad it’s kind of pathetic. “god, that’s such an idiotic thing to say…” you pause, looking at him playing with your bracelet mindlessly. then you realized there was no way he went for all the trouble to fuck you if he didn’t have any feelings for you. it was so dumb of you to assume that in the first place. and it felt so right in that moment – almost dream-like –, you didn’t want to waste it. the words left your mouth by impulse, but they all fell so naturally out of it too, it barely felt like it was the first time you were saying them, “i love you, jake.”

jake feels his whole world stop. what did you just say? he couldn’t voice it out better, muttering, “what?”

“yep…” you say comically popping the ‘p’, head nodding dramatically, lips pressed in a thin line and brows furrowed in fake apprehension. because, deep down, you’re sure it was going to work out just fine. “guess that’s worse than a murder, huh?”

jake’s going crazy, he wasn’t expecting you to ever say it like that, so easily. “do–” he gasped, choking a bit. he was a mess by this point, his hands pulling you closer by your wrists until your face was close enough, to the point he could feel your warm breath on his nose. his voice cracking with obvious emotion, but he really couldn’t care less, “do you really?”

and your eyes water, voice faltering just as much, “of course i do, jake… ” you press your forehead to his, eyes closing but you can feel his hands shaking where they hold you and you wanted nothing but to make him feel all of the love he made you feel.

“oh my god,” he uttered, voice completely drowned in emotion as his breath hitches and he sobs, but that doesn't stop him from keep talking, “oh my god, baby, i love you too,” he states, like it wasn’t obvious by the way the tears left his eyes and stained your shirt. he’s a blabbering mess, but you love it. “i love you so much.”

and there, in between tears, smiles and sweet words, jake’s certain that he’d do everything all over again, just to have you. and you know you found the one.

DAY 38 - Apocalypse

you wake up in your bed with a startle, out of breath and with tears blurring your vision, threatening to fall from your eyes. your heart was filled with so much love you could never possibly keep to yourself only, so look to the side to reach jake. only, he isn’t there. you sit up, confusion knocks on your poor sleepy brain and you stumble out of bed. you remember very vividly you had fallen asleep with jake the night before, after you so happily declared your love for each other. as you reach for your doorknob you pause, what if it was a dream? because you remember you were in jake's room last night, not yours. were you so sleep drunk you couldn’t tell if it all happened or not? you rush to open the door and walk towards jake’s room, but he wasn’t there either. so you decide to go to the kitchen, not yet ready to give up, even if your heart was squeezing like you had lost the only love you ever had known.

as you reach the kitchen you hear some noises and your body fills with excitement as you eye jake’s broad figure – but, wait. is that a Seattle Mariners shirt?

“oh my god, jake. why are you wearing jay’s shirt?” your voice competing with your laughter, trying to imagine what would be jay’s reaction if he saw his favorite shirt in jake’s body – his very nice, very doable body. “i’ll tell jay.”

“don’t you dare, pretty,” he says, like it’s a threat – that has no effect, whatsoever – as he drops whatever he was doing to come hug you. “it isn’t jay’s, he gave me this one on my birthday last year,” he gave your forehead a kiss, then the top of your head and kept going, “how did you sleep? i put you in your room ‘cause mine’s closer to the kitchen and i wanted to make breakfast. did i wake you?” but you almost don’t hear it, his voice being drowned since he talked while his lips were pressed to the top of your head. 

“you didn’t wake me, love,” and the way you say it makes jake’s heart melt. “but i woke up crying and for some weird reason i thought yesterday was a dream…” you add, hugging him back and taking in his scent.

“i left for 15 minutes and you were already crying from missing me? that’s cute, princess,” he laughs after speaking, moving you to sit at the counter. “well, it’s good it wasn’t a dream then, huh?”

you give an disgusted look to his little joke, but you’re smiling when you brush your lips to his, “i don’t know… i’m starting to regret it.”

“you’re so mean,” he replies, but he’s also smiling. he gives you a brief kiss on the lips, then one on your cheek. he looks at you for a bit and says, “i think i should make us breakfast…”

you both laugh, knowing what he’s hinting at. you get off the counter and help him, being so filled with contentment and love as you watch him make a mess in the kitchen just like always,

“i love you.”

a/n: it was supposed to be all a dream in the end, but i couldn't do it. let me know what you think<33

[hoshifighting]

virgin!mingyu x reader

warnings: first time experience, oral, hair grabbing, cock riding, slightly nipple play (m receiving)...

you and mingyu always bicker. it's your thing. teasing, mocking—it's all part of the routine. recently, though, you’ve been working on a college project with wonwoo, mingyu’s roommate. 

mingyu had just broken up with his girlfriend from campus a little while ago. wonwoo mentioned that his girlfriend lost patience with mingyu because he didn’t want to have sex with her. 

what she didn’t know was that he’s still a virgin. 

when you heard that, you felt sad. mingyu isn’t a bad person at all.you remember back in high school when you were the one being mocked for never having kissed anyone. mingyu, hearing all the fuss in the canteen, just walked over and kissed you. it made all the teasing stop.

you didn’t like that the gossip was about him now. one evening, wonwoo excuses himself, saying he needs to go to his parents' home. he leaves you at their dorm to finish the project, knowing mingyu is around.

“hey, can you pass me the glue?” you ask, not looking up from your work.

mingyu, lounging on his bed with a comic book, grumbles but gets up and hands it to you. “you know, you could get it yourself,” he says, a smirk playing on his lips.“

“yeah, but then i’d miss out on this delightful conversation,” you shoot back, rolling your eyes.

there’s a pause, then mingyu sits down across from you, watching you work. 

it’s quiet, almost too quiet, and you can feel his eyes on you. 

finally, you break the silence.“so, uh, wonwoo told me about you and your girlfriend,” you say, trying to keep your tone casual.mingyu’s expression darkens a bit.

 “oh, he did, did he?”

“yeah. i just… i’m sorry. she didn’t deserve to know anyway,” you say, fumbling with the glue cap.

he raises an eyebrow. “didn’t deserve to know what?”

“that you’re… you know, still a virgin,” you mumble, avoiding his gaze.

mingyu sighs and leans back in his chair. “it’s not something i’m ashamed of, you know. it’s just… private.”

“yeah, i get it. people can be really judgmental about stuff like that,” you say, thinking back to high school again.

“like when you hadn’t kissed anyone yet,” mingyu says, reading your mind.

“exactly,” you say, smiling a little. “that day in the canteen… you really saved me from a lot of embarrassment.”

he chuckles. “i remember. your face was so red.”

“oh, shut up,” you laugh, throwing a balled-up piece of paper at him.

he catches it easily, tossing it back. “i just didn’t want them to make you feel bad. you didn’t deserve it.”

“neither do you,” you say softly. “i think i... can help if you want to,” you say softly, feeling your cheeks warm up.

mingyu looks at you, confusion flickering across his face. “help with what?”

you swallow, feeling a bit nervous but determined. “with, you know, the whole... virgin thing.”

his eyes widen, and he sits up straighter. “wait, are you saying...?”

“yeah,” you interrupt, feeling a bit more confident. “i mean, if you want to, that is. no pressure.”

mingyu is silent for a moment, processing what you just said. then he runs a hand through his hair, a nervous habit you’ve seen a hundred times. “why would you want to do that?”

“because you deserve someone who cares and won’t judge you,” you say simply. “and because... i trust you.”

he looks at you, searching your face for any hint of a joke or insincerity. finding none, he takes a deep breath. “are you sure? i mean, we’ve always just...”

“bickered? yeah, i know. but there’s more to us than that,” you say, moving closer to him. “i think we’ve always known that, deep down.”

mingyu’s eyes soften, and he reaches out to take your hand. “okay. i trust you too.”

you both sit there for a moment, holding hands and letting the reality of the situation sink in. then, with a small smile, you lean in and kiss him.

you lean in and kiss him, feeling the softness of his lips and the tentative way he kisses back. it’s gentle at first, but soon the kiss deepens, becoming more urgent. your hands move to his shirt, pulling it up and over his head, revealing the smooth skin of his chest.

you break the kiss, trailing your lips down his neck and across his chest. you plant a soft kiss on each of his nipples, hearing his sharp intake of breath, a soft moan escaping his lips. his embarrassment is endearing, but you can tell he’s enjoying it.

“relax,” you whisper, your voice a soft command. “just enjoy it.”

you continue your path downward, kissing and nibbling along his stomach, feeling his muscles tense under your touch. when you reach the waistband of his pants, you look up at him, seeing the anticipation and nervousness in his eyes. you slide his pants down, freeing him from the confines of his clothes.

taking him into your hand, you give him a reassuring smile before lowering your mouth to him. your tongue flicks out, tasting the saltiness of his skin, and you can feel him shudder. as you take him deeper into your mouth, you hollow your cheeks and suck gently, eliciting a deep moan from him.

his hand tangles in your hair, not guiding, just holding, as if he needs the connection to ground himself. you start to move, slowly at first, getting used to the feel of him in your mouth. your spit makes everything slick, and you can taste the faint hint of precum.

you take him deeper, trying to relax your throat as you push him further in. his hips jerk slightly, and you feel his breath hitch. your fingers trail along his length, adding to the sensation, and you glance up to see his eyes half-closed, mouth slightly open in pleasure.

as you increase your pace, taking him as deep as you can, you press a finger gently against the slit at the tip, preventing him from reaching his climax too soon. he groans, the sound desperate and full of need.

“please,” he whispers, his voice strained.

you pull back, letting him slip from your mouth. “not yet,” you murmur, climbing back up to straddle him. you align yourself with him, and with a slow, deliberate motion, you sink down onto him.

the feeling is intense for both of you, and you take a moment to adjust, watching the way his eyes widen with the new sensation. you start to move, rocking your hips in a steady rhythm. his hands find your waist, holding you as if he’s afraid you might disappear.

“god, you feel amazing,” he groans, his grip tightening.

you smile down at him, leaning forward to kiss him again. the kiss is hungry, filled with the heat of the moment. as you move faster, you can feel him getting closer, his breathing becoming more erratic.

you adjust your angle, finding that perfect spot that makes both of you see stars. his moans grow louder, and you can tell he’s right on the edge. you pick up the pace, wanting to give him an unforgettable first time.

“come for me, mingyu,” you whisper against his lips.

with a final, deep thrust, he cries out, his body shuddering as he reaches his climax. the feeling of him coming inside you sends you over the edge as well, and you ride out the waves of pleasure together.

you collapse onto his chest, both of you breathing hard, sweat-slicked and spent. he wraps his arms around you, holding you close, and you can feel his heart pounding against yours.

“that was...” he begins, but he doesn’t seem to have the words.

“unforgettable?” you suggest, smiling as you nuzzle into his neck.

“yeah,” he agrees, his voice full of awe and gratitude. “unforgettable.”

[colonelarr0w]

hi i hope you’re well! i love your writing and i was hoping to make a req for gojo. reader riding his face and he’s just sloppy with it because he’s obsessed with her and how good she tastes and he won’t stop talking about it either lmao full on loverboy <3 thank you so much!

Sypnosis - Read above request.

Warning(s) - This is just smut guys, c'mon, read the request.

! PIECE BEGINS UNDERNEATH THE CUT !

“C’mon baby, pleaseee?” Satoru whines, turning his head so that his cheek rests against your inner thigh. His eyes flicker up to you, wide and puppy-like. God, you could already feel yourself folding. 

Your fingers pause their scratching of Satoru’s scalp, eyes boring into his own as you force yourself to wear a stern expression.  

“I don’t know ‘toru,” you murmur offhandedly, wincing as Satoru’s expression falls. He sighs, breath fanning out over the exposed skin of your leg — which sends a shiver up your spine.  

He pouts, bottom lip jutting out as his arms squeeze around your waist. You jolt, not having expected the gesture.  

“What’s the worst that could happen?” 

“I crush you…?” 

Satoru hums, tilting his head as if he were weighing his options. You bite back the laugh that bubbles in the back of your throat, nearly allowing your resolve to crumble.  

“What a way to go out—“ 

“Satoru!” You slap a hand against the back of his head, chuckling breathily as he dramatically yelps, then burying his head into your stomach. “Don’t say things like that.” 

He groans, the vibration of his voice tickling your skin. Your fingers return to his hair, scratching lightly over his scalp — it makes you giggle how he immediately leans into the touch, practically purring. 

“Pleaseee~?” Satoru begs, flashing you his signature puppy eyes again in the hopes that it would break you down enough to say ‘yes’ to his one request. 

(In truth, he was making it seem like this was his last request before he would surrender to the skeletal hands of Death.) 

“Are you sure that you want me to sit on your face?” you raise your eyebrow. The expression that Satoru wears is comical — his eyebrows flattened and his eyes narrowed in the most ‘Are you kidding me?’ look that you had ever seen. 

And that’s what brought you here. 

On top of Satoru’s nose. 

Rocking your hips against him as you desperately chased an orgasm that was right there.  

The lewd sounds of Satoru slurping up every bit of what you offer him only makes the coil in your stomach tighten. His tongue is buried in your heat, greedily licking up every last bit of your essence and moaning against you.  

You brace yourself on your palms, hands on either side of Satoru’s head with your fingers curling up the sheets. You throw your head back, moaning out in such a pornographic way that Satoru genuinely thought he had cum in his pants (he didn’t … yet).  

His tongue moves upward, lips latching onto your clit as he roughly sucks on the sensitive bundle of nerves, holding your hips steady as you begin to lose your balance on top of him.  

“C’mon pretty girl, wan’ you to cum on my tongue,” Satoru murmurs against you, the vibrato of his voice sending a delicious shiver up your spine. 

You glance down, the coil in your stomach nearly snapping at the mere sight of Satoru’s eyes peering up at you, pupils lust blown from the position that you were currently in.  

A broken moan falls from your lips as you rock your hips against his face, clit just barely rubbing against the tip of his nose. “‘toru!” 

The lewd sound of Satoru gulping down all your pussy offers him is the answer that you receive — that which finally pushes you completely over the edge.  

Your body stutters, nearly losing your balance. Satoru’s hands grab at the skin of your thighs, fingers digging into the supple flesh and leaving behind small crescent marks from his nails.  

His tongue works you through your orgasm, tongue kitten-licking your clit until you’re convulsing on the verge of overstimulation. Your chest rises and falls in whiny pants, body trying to lift itself from Satoru’s mouth — but he continues his relentless actions.  

Your fingers tangle themselves into his hair, nails grazing against his scalp and tugging upward on the strands. Satoru groans against you, the vibration keeping you teetering on the edge of another orgasm. You tug your bottom lip up between your teeth, biting down into the flesh and swallowing another moan as it rises in your throat.  

Finally, after one last tug to his hair, Satoru lets you fall back against the bed, chest rising and falling as you attempt to catch your breath. He turns his head, grinning at you with that same shit-eating grin that he always wore in situations where he was proven right.  

"See, nothing bad happened!" Satoru grins as he tugs you into his arms, pressing chaste kisses against your neck as you lean into him, nose tucking into the crook of his neck.  

You hum in response, eyes already fluttering shut as exhaustion begins to seep into your bones. Satoru only chuckles to himself, squeezing you tighter against him and pressing a lingering kiss to your hairline. He glances down at your sleepy face, smiling to himself as he cards his fingers through your hair, nails scraping against your scalp.  

"So can we do it again?" 

"'toru!" 

[gatorbites-imagines]

Hii I don't know if you write for TASM peter but if you do could you write one of the nsfw alphabets for him? (From nwh)

Also I love your writing btw. I've been reading it for maybe 2 years now

Peter Parker (TASM) nsfw alphabet

Had this request for a while, and I’m finally getting down to it. It’s been a while since I watched the movie.

Most versions of Peter are pretty similar when it comes to my writing outside of small quirks, so if I wrote about other versions of Peter, they would end up very similar to this one. Maybe a bit of comic peter in this one too.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Peter is very clingy afterwards, in the sense that he just wants contact. Too bad if you feel sweaty and gross afterwards, Peter is gonna lay on top of you, and try to cover as much of your body with his own as physically possible. He also just likes you petting him and cuddling him as aftercare. He also purrs, because I say so.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

On himself its his legs and ass, and Peter will regularly pose in the suit and ask if it “makes his butt look big”. He likes it when you say yes. On his partner, his favorite part is strangely their heart, or more rather the sound of it. he will lay his ear against your chest and almost go into a trance at times because it puts him at ease.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Hes a damn hound for it, you never have to worry about getting it on the sheets because he’s licking it up before it can get there. You swear you’ve heard him chittering before, which would have killed your hard-on if you still had it. he’s got a thing for rubbing his own into your skin, or yours into his, but Peter only does it when he’s really fucked out.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Has some very wild fantasies he’s pretty sure is from the spider bite. Like, why else would he get off to the thought of you trapped in his web, or biting you and injecting you with the venom he doesn’t have, so you get nice and pliant so he can ride you. There was also that one time he had a very horrible fever and dreamed about erotically eating you. He will never bring this up, and take it with him to the grave. Rest in fucking pieces if you have some immortality power.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Depends on when you guys start dating honestly. If you guys date early on he doesn’t have too much, just a bit with Gwen but that’s about it. if you guys first start dating after NWH Peter would have a bit more, if he has people like Black Cat in his universe.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Some crazy flexible position hes only able to pull off, because Peter claims his bones got all “loose” after the bite. You don’t like thinking about what that means. Loves to ride you as well, it gives Peter some wild kind of thrill to pin you down and go at it.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Peter is just goofy in general, so of course he’s goofy in the bedroom too. If he isn’t, then you know something is wrong and you guys need to stop and talk.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Hes very well groomed, Peter shaves most of his body since he doesn’t like the feeling of body hair against the inside of his suit. Peter does leave a tasteful patch of happy trail, because he knows you like it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Hes so stupidly romantic sometimes it could make your teeth rot. Especially, if it’s after some violent villain attack, or some situation where you might get hurt. Then Peter is all over you, clinging to you, face pressed under your chin or staring deeply into your eyes, as he repeats how much he loves you over and over.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Enough that Peter is embarrassed to admit it. It’s not every single day, but almost. When he first got bit he blamed it on puberty, but as he grew up Peter realized having a higher need, so to say, had to be a result of the bite.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Predator/prey fantasies (will never admit to these)

Bondage, especially with the webs

Cocooning? Don’t know what to call it… completely wrapping you, or himself, in webs, or tape, whatever you guys got

Scent, musk and sweat

Cumplay, of any kind

Throatfucking, hard enough that he’s about to pass out

Doing it in the suit, obviously

Roleplay

Being helpless? I don’t know what to call it, he loves to be at your mercy and knowing there is nothing he can do about it

Doing it in the dark, it triggers some primal part of his brain

CBT… I won’t elaborate (unless you guys ask, of course)

Being ignored or treated like a toy/object (after discussing it first)

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

I feel like his favorite place to do it would be the ceiling or somewhere crazy like that, on the side of a wall maybe? Loves to do it in a chair too, better watch out if you’re trying to work from home, he’s gonna be circling you like a tiger.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

It’s pretty easy to get Peter turned on, and it only seems to get easier with time. It’s like the longer you two are together, the hotter he finds you. Easiest way to get him going is honestly just to give him the look and a good ol “come here” finger motion, and Peter is stumbling over himself to follow.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Isn’t comfortable with kinks that could really hurt you or him. Not a fan of sharing you. Hed be fine with himself being in the middle, but seeing someone else kiss or rub on you makes his blood boil.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Prefers giving. Hes not that good at it in the beginning, like at all, but he’s got the spirit. Its all sloppy and wet and loud, with Peter choking and spilling tears, but he gets it with time. He doesn’t mind getting head in return, but he would much rather be eaten out.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Likes a fast pace, which has resulted in you calling him a rabbit from time to time, with how fast he can go when he’s really excited. When things have been stressful or Peter just needs to feel loved, then he takes it slow.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Big fan of them. There are days where that’s all you guys can have, since he’s busy with spiderman work, actual work, and you have work too. You guys figure it out.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Few things scare peter, so he’s open to try most things. This is where he learned he couldn’t stand others getting too intimate with you. Peter is also a huge advocate for communication and safewords, you can never be too safe.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Incredible stamina that you can only keep up with if you have some kind of power or mutation as well. It takes hours to wring him dry when Peter is doing fine. On days when he is already exhausted, he has the libido and stamina of the average person.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Owns a couple, but nothing too extreme, like a massager, a fleshlight and a vibrator or two. Peter is all up for using them, especially since he knows its hard to keep up with him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Peter is such a tease, even if its just small jokes and flirty comments, or if its full on grinding and dry humping as he mumbles the most filthy things into your ear.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Hes surprisingly quiet, at least in the beginning. Peter is embarrassed about how loud he gets, so he tries to stay quiet. But if you wind him up enough, he starts whining or making sounds that are almost sobs, but without tears. Will growl and get guttural when he’s jealous.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Enjoys both star wars and star trek, but just calls himself a star wars fan since he liked that first, and he doesn’t want to argue about only being loyal to one. Spends way too long on designing his suits and always wonders what would look coolest like a toy. Its not like he gets anything out of it but… he likes seeing the toys and costumes people make, so he wants it to be cool.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Slightly above average in length and thickness, but not too veiny. Tip is weirdly cute and pink, makes you wanna kiss it just seeing it. cut.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Has a pretty high drive but doesn’t let it control him or his day. It’s easy to put aside if there are other things to focus on, but when he gets the time, he lets his mind wander, especially if you two are alone.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Depends on how tired he is honestly, but if you guys have the time he likes to at least lay there and doze off with you, since being in your arms always puts him at ease.

[thetomorrowshow]

love is such a drag

Chapter one: Scar's first encounter with the angel (and Grian gets to eat ice cream)

welcome to my scariana griande drag college au. this will be quite the ride from start to finish.

~

Scar spots her from across the bar.

It would be hard not to notice her, honestly. Despite the dim, almost cloudy lighting of the room, she glows, as if a heavenly spotlight is set right on her to make it clear that she just descended from heaven.

Scar sneaks glances at her over the fun green umbrella in his drink. She's sitting by herself—an absolute crime, if you ask Scar—, swishing around the little black straw in her drink. Her dark blond hair falls in gorgeous ringlets down around her shoulders, outlining her face the way a pure golden frame would surround only the most beautiful of paintings.

Her nose is small, turned up just a little bit in a peak, the bridge delicate and sparkling with a small amount of angel dust that must be left over from the aforementioned descent. Her eyes are almost comically doe-like, large and accentuated with soft pink eye shadow and long eyelashes. Scar can't quite tell what color her eyes are from this distance (brown, maybe? Black?), but he knows that whatever color they are, they are absolutely perfect.

Her lips are pink to match her eye shadow, glittery, small and pursed, as if her drink isn't near good enough to pass those delicately soft lips.

Scar hasn't even met the woman, but he wants to kiss those lips. He wants some of that angel dust to find its way onto his own lips.

Her cheeks are rosy and full, and her round chin rests on her palm as she casts a bored look around the bar.

Scar downs the last bit of his drink for courage.

He sticks the umbrella in his shirt pocket for good luck.

Then he picks up his cane and saunters over, frantically sorting through every pick-up line in his repertoire—though none of them seem to match the beauty of God's creation before him.

She looks up at him as he approaches, peering at him from under those long lashes, and now he can tell—

Her eyes are grey, but not grey like clouds, or the sea, or the bartop that her arm rests on. Her eyes are grey like the comforter on his mom's bed, like the bricks around the fireplace back in his grandpa's old house, like the silver colored pencil he'd taken all his notes in for a semester to try and prove to Cub that it worked just as well as a normal pencil (it hadn't).

Her eyes are grey like the backdrop of Scar's dreams, the firmament that rests between consciousness and all else.

And then, of course, he's right there.

And she's waiting.

There isn't a single smooth pick-up line in his brain, which is offensive if Scar does say so himself, because he always has words. He could wax poetic about a frying pan for an hour just to annoy someone, but now that his skills are put to the test he can't hold on to his wits long enough to use them.

Goodness gracious, but she's beautiful.

She's wearing something pink and small, a cut-off that reveals a slender torso and adorable bellybutton, the sleeves long and flowy but off the shoulders. Her skirt is a lighter shade of pink, cutting off just above her knees, and it looks like just the kind of skirt that she could spin in and it would twirl along perfectly with her, the kind that sort of looks like a cupcake wrapper.

Scar's always wanted to wear that kind of skirt.

How long has he been staring at her?

"Hi," he manages, readjusting his sweaty grip on his cane. "Um. Come here often?"

She rolls her eyes.

It's breathtaking.

"Sorry, worst line in the book and all that," Scar excuses himself. "Can I order you another drink, then?"

She glances at the half-full drink she's been slowly working her way through. "I'm good, thanks," she says, and Scar nearly swoons.

The angel talked to him!

And her voice! Fluttery, but something deeper underneath! Textured like a symphonic piece of music, as soft as the faux fur carpets in the back of department stores!

She's perfect.

"I'll just cut straight to the point," Scar says, trying valiantly to not feel light-headed. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. May I take you out on a date?"

She blinks.

"You don't even know me," she says, leaning back down to take a dainty little sip out of the straw.

"No, but I want to," Scar reasons. "Can I get you anything? Some chips? A little umbrella?"

"The umbrellas come with the cocktails," she scoffs. She flicks her hair over her shoulder and Scar definitely doesn't almost fall over. "I'm not in the mood for a cocktail."

Scar leans forward. "You can ask for an umbrella with any drink," he whispers, winking conspiratorially. "I always do."

"What is it you really want?" she says, sounding almost tired, and Scar puts his hand to his heart.

"I just want to take you out on a date, I swear, nothing else," he says. "Scout's honor."

"Scout's honor?"

"Troupe 2906," Scar says, lying through his teeth. He was never a scout. Well, he did Cub Scouts, but he never made it to Boy Scouts. And he definitely didn't have a troupe. "Once a scout, always a scout."

Almost reluctantly, she giggles (a sound like windchimes softly jangling), then pulls her phone out of the tiny white purse at her side. "All right, fine. What's your name?"

"Scar," he tells her, pulling out his own phone. He unlocks it with a quick swipe, then pulls up a new contact card and trades his phone for the angel's.

"Your phone looks like it got ran over," she observes, picking at the tape on the side.

"If you pull that tape off, it goes dead."

She stops picking at it.

Scar types in his number slowly with one finger, leaning against the bar as casually as he can manage. He's been standing for a minute too long, but he doesn't want to make her uncomfortable by sitting down.

When he's finished, he passes the phone back to her, receiving his own in return.

"I'll text you," he promises.

She laughs again, nods. "Okay."

The way she dismisses him—

The conversation is clearly over, based on the way she turns back to her drink, her lips once again pursed but this time turned up at the corners.

Scar hurries out as fast as his body will allow him, which isn't very fast even on the best days.

Once he's outside, out of view of her, he checks his phone.

The contact is there, ten exquisite digits.

And her name.

Ariana.

-

"Cub, do you mind if I have someone over? I need to opine."

Cub looks up from his laptop, then flinches away when Scar turns on the lights.

"Scar, do you know what time it is?" he gripes, putting a pillow over his face.

"It's not even midnight, mister, so don't pretend like this is late. You're always up at all hours of the morning, anyway."

"Why can't you opine to me?" Cub sighs.

"You don't opine back! I need someone who will wallow on the floor with me."

Scar can practically hear Cub raise an eyebrow. "Ren?"

Scar grins. "Ren. He basically isn't even a guest, since he lives right above us. And it would only be for an hour at most!"

"Fine, fine," grumbles Cub, sitting up and setting his pillow to the side. "Call him. But I have a quiz tomorrow, so this better be quick."

Ren's over within five minutes, a two-liter of diet pepsi in one hand and a bag of candy in the other.

"Leftover Christmas candy, my dude," Ren says, tossing it on the floor. "You said you need to opine?"

Scar carefully lowers himself to sit on the floor, then flops down onto his back, his arms splayed out dramatically.

"Why are we doing this in my room?" groans Cub.

"I've seen an angel," Scar declares, and his heart flutters just the slightest bit.

"Ugh."

"Ooh!" Ren says, sitting cross-legged on the floor. "Tell me more."

"I was at the bar in Aquetown, right?" Scar starts, adjusting his arms to look more dramatic, one thrown over his forehead. "The good one. The quiet one."

"Right," nods Ren. "I know it well."

"And there she was," Scar says reverently. "The angel."

"What was her name? What happened? What did she—"

"Her name is Ariana," Scar breathes, the name as sweet on his lips as he knows her kiss would be. "She's perfect."

"Did you get her number?" Cub asks boredly.

Scar scoffs. "Of course I got her number! We're going on a date."

"Oooo!" Ren teases, slapping his shoulder. "My man has a date with a pretty girl!"

"She isn't just a girl," Scar says dreamily. "She's an angel. You should've seen her, Ren! If God himself turned up and told me that there had been a mistake, that she was supposed to be in heaven, I wouldn't have even blinked! She—"

"Yeah, she's a beautiful angel, we get it," interrupts Cub. "Can you do this in the living room?"

"What color are her eyes?" Ren asks.

"Grey . . . I've never met anyone with grey eyes. Not like those."

"What did she say? Is she into you?" Ren shakes his head. "What am I saying? Of course she's into you! Who wouldn't be?"

Scar. . . .

Scar hadn't even thought about that.

He'd just been so preoccupied with getting a date with such a perfect woman, he hadn't even thought about whether or not she might want one with him.

What if she secretly hates him?

What if she just told him yes to get him to go away?

"No, it's okay," Ren says quickly, patting his arm. "Don't cry! She's totally into you, dude! Don't even worry about it!"

"What if she isn't?" Scar asks, the hand thrown over his head moving to tug at his hair. "What if I was bothering her? What if she gave me a fake number?"

"No, dude, it's not—"

"Scar," Cub says, kneeling down on the floor beside him, "look at me."

There are already tears welling up in Scar's eyes when he looks up, straight into Cub's dark, unyielding eyes.

"Any woman would be lucky to have you," he says seriously. "If she was lying, that's her loss. Got it?"

Reluctantly, Scar nods, wiping away a tear with the heel of his palm.

Cub claps him on the shoulder. "Now get out of my room."

-

"Mumbo! Mumbo, you're never gonna guess—"

"In here!" Mumbo calls from their shared bedroom.

Grian shuts the front door and locks the deadbolt, then dashes down the short hall—past Pearl's empty bedroom—until he arrives at his own room. He shuts and locks that door behind himself as well, then leans against it, hands splayed on the old poorly-painted wood.

"Mumbo," he breathes. "Mumbo, it happened."

Mumbo is lying on his stomach on the floor, sleep shirt riding just a bit up his back from clear readjustments of position. He pushes his laptop a bit away, shuts whatever textbook he'd been studying, and rubs his eyes.

"You look cute," Mumbo says when he's done rubbing his eyes, blinking blearily at Grian. "Is that a new skirt?"

Grian stands up straight for a moment, twirls it back and forth. "Yeah, it's one of my new favorites, I think. Do you like it?"

"Looks great," says Mumbo. "Good show tonight?"

"It was fine, but that doesn't matter!" Grian falls back against the door again, letting himself slide all the way to the floor. "Mumbo, it finally happened. A man asked me out."

"No way!" Mumbo cheers, sitting up. "Like, legitimately? He thought—"

"He thought I was a girl and he asked me out!" Grian says. "This is the best day of my life. Nothing can top this."

"After—wait, after the performance? Or before? Because you think he'd know, after the performance, that it was drag, but maybe—"

"Oh, no, no, no," Grian waves him off. "This was at a different bar. I stopped by that one in Aquetown—you know, the dead one?—just on my way back, to try and get a decent drink before heading home. And he just came over to me—Mumbo, he called me the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen."

"Dude!" Mumbo waves his arms around like Kermit the Frog. "I think—I think we need to celebrate! Break out the ice cream, dude, because it's time to throw a party!"

Grian just breathes slowly, chest lifting and falling dramatically. He feels just like a girl in the movies after kissing her date goodbye, only better. More giddy, if that’s possible.

It's getting late, though. He should probably slip out of his heels, take out his hair extensions, wipe off his make-up, take off his boobs, change into pajamas. . . .

Or he could go eat ice cream in their tiny kitchen with Mumbo and animatedly recount every moment of the night.

Which is how Grian finds himself eating ice cream in their tiny kitchen with Mumbo, animatedly recounting every moment of the night.

"He has a cane," Grian remembers suddenly, halfway through telling Mumbo exactly what he'd said for the third time. "It was one of those old-fashioned ones. With the golden handle?"

"Okay, so he's, like, the rich heir of a mansion," Mumbo nods. "You could do a lot worse. Unless he was old—was he old?"

Grian shrugs. "I don't think so. He looked pretty young—he had a scar across his cheek, actually, kind of like—like this—"

He traces along his own cheek, starting from his jawbone, curving up a bit almost to his nose.

Mumbo frowns. "A scar? I think—"

The front door of the apartment opens, and in trudges Pearl, kicking off her muddy boots.

"Pearl!" Grian says excitedly, holding out his scraped-up plastic bowl, a couple of bites of melting ice cream still left. "We're having ice cream to celebrate!"

Pearl drops her blue backpack on the floor of the living room (right beside the front door, the dead carpet there dividing it from the tiled entrance space that leads into the kitchen). She looks first to Grian, then Mumbo, then the carton of vanilla ice cream on the kitchen counter.

"Sounds like a party!" she says, sticking her hands in her hoodie pockets. "You both look nice!"

"Oh! Um, thanks!" Mumbo says, while Grian does a little spin, his skirt lifting in the air (not that Pearl can see, standing on the other side of the counter as she is).

"A man asked me out," Grian tells her. "While he thought I was a woman!"

"Well, of course he did! You make a very pretty girl, Grian."

"Yeah, but you have to say that. You're my sister. He called me the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen."

"Awww," Pearl coos. She comes around the counter, pulls a chipped bowl out of the dishwasher (used to dry dishes, not wash them) along with a spoon, which she uses to load some ice cream into the bowl before sticking a spoonful in her mouth.

"What was his name?" she asks around the ice cream, words muffled.

Grian frowns. "I don't remember. He didn't write it in the contact. That isn't important, though—he asked me out!"

"Are you going to go?"

Grian freezes.

Is he going to. . . ?

"Oh no," he says, dread pooling in the pit of his stomach. "I—I didn't even think about that."

"Think about what?" Mumbo asks, scraping his spoon along the side of his bowl.

"I don't want to go on a date," Grian says. Oh, this is dreadful! "I just liked the attention! What do I do, Mumbo? I gave him my number and everything!"

Pearl scoffs. "You gave him your number? You're basically required to go on a date with him. If you give a man your real number, it means you're interested."

"Did you tell him you'd go on a date with him?"

Grian cringes. ". . . Maybe?"

"Grian!"

"I can't help it!" Grian defends. "I love flirting, you know that!"

Mumbo covers his face, bowl abandoned on the counter.

"Grian," Pearl bemoans.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. . . ."

"Well, we'd better hope he's a creep!" Mumbo says loudly, face still buried in his hands. "Because then you don't have to feel bad about ditching the date!"

"Was he nice?" asks Pearl.

Grian shrugs helplessly. "I guess? He tried to give me a drink umbrella."

"Oh. So, very drunk."

"No, I think he just wanted me to have one."

"Goodness, Grian. You've got yourself in a bit of a situation," Mumbo says, finally emerging from his hands. He looks into his bowl, frowns at the lack of ice cream.

"Maybe he'll forget about it?" Grian suggests, but his heart isn't really in it.

He doesn't have much hope. Not with the way the man had talked to him. No, he's probably just set himself up for a month of progressively creepier and more disgusting texts until he blocks the man and files a 'do not contact' directive with the school.

Assuming this man is a student.

What if he's, like, an old man? 

Like, thirty?

Okay. This is too much.

Hopefully, he just doesn't text. Then Grian won't have to worry about it. Which won't happen, but he can dream.

"We can talk more about it tomorrow, all right?" Mumbo says, tossing his bowl in the sink. "It's getting late. And G, you should probably put your, er, appendages away."

"My bosom?" Grian says, raising an eyebrow.

"His tittie-tatties?" Pearl suggests.

"My breastily breasting boobs?"

"His badonka donk—"

"Please just get them off the counter."

[jeypawlik]

Hourly Comics Day 2025

This year's Hourly Comics! A bit messy because I was so busy, but remembering that hanging out with people who enjoy your company is important.  All my previous hourlies can be read right here~   (2022's is NSFW) [ID: Page 1 9am - Got up in a rush, applied for Dashcon 2 "I gotta get my dashcon 2 app in ASAP!". Reading online w/ tea, together. 10am - Max saying "Jey, my dad's asking if we'd like to go to Niagara with him today?" I answer "Let's do it! Avocado and egg toast, yum! Getting ready for the day! 11am - On the TTC. I say "I like the wool you're using." Max is crocheting and says "Yeah, I think this scarf will turn out well!  12pm - Picked up at the carpool "hello!" Catchup during the drive and fun chats. Mother in-law says "And Max and I had gone to the Bluebird cafe" Max's dad says "Without me?" and I say "And me?!" We all laugh about it. Page 2 1pm - @ the Watering Can. In-laws say "You two look around and we'll wait for a table." We say "Are you sure?" Max and I look around at plants in antiques, plants in pianos, plants in old cars, I take photos. We both say "Wow!" 2pm - Lattes and good chats with plants all around us! I ordered the chicken, apple and brie sandwich with greens and apple thyme dipping sauce. "Wow! Yum!" 3pm -  @ 13th street winery. Max bought us all tarts and viognier wine. It was so busy we sat on the porch. I bought some wine to bring home in cans! 4pm - @ the Mann  Art Gallery. We're all looking at an abstract piece saying "Hm. Not sure this one is speaking to us" I take a photo. I point at a framed piece and say "Look! An original Henry Moore for sale!" Page 3 5pm - Car rides are so cozy. GPS says "Continue right on QEW." I say "It sounds like Cutie W!" Father in-law laughs and asks "are you going to put that in your comic?" Max and I bought a bunch of beer from the Oast brewery. Excited for the roasted walnut and chestnut ones! 6pm - Drove through downtown Niagara. "Should we get out and look at the falls?" "Parking is $20!" "And it's -13 degrees Celsius out!" "Let's just stay in the car!" We all say "Agreed!" 7pm - @ Betty's restaurant. We're still full from lunch. I ordered the fish and chips but Max ordered the lasagne. I say "Wow." and Max says "Oh." as we both look at the giant lasagne and garlic bread. 8pm - Car ride home. So sleepy. I say "Thanks for such a nice day out, I had a real bad day with my dad on Wednesday so this really made up for it" In-laws respond "Oh! You're most welcome, Jey!" Max is crocheting. Page 4 9pm - We're dropped off and say "Bye!" and "Talk to you soon!" It's Tea Time! Then, getting our KK songs in Animal Crossing. We recently restarted our game. 10pm - Drawing hourlies. Trying out J. Herbin Perle Noire ink in my Sailor Profit. Switching with Max in AC as I try to give Blathers my fossils "Blathers please take my fossils!" and Blathers apologises "Sorry..." 11pm - More hourlies while Max plays more AC! Both of us are quiet but cozy on the couch. 12am - Floss! Read RSS feed! Journal - good thing I took notes today. Brush teeth! DONE! Both Max and I slam our faces into our pillows in bed while a podcast says "Welcome to the History of Rome." /end ID]

[kcrabb88]

QuinObi Fic Rec List

QuinObi week isn't until October, but like I did last year, I wanted to drop some of my favorite QuinObi fics to get y'all excited! This list is not exhaustive, just a starter, but I hope you'll enjoy!

Hush by @violentcheese: a gorgeous Padawan first kiss fic! Made me a bit teary, tbh.

Don't Waste Your Treat by @ninjigma: Obi-Wan and Quinlan are on a diplomatic mission. They bicker over a popsicle and are very into each other. This fic had me sweating. <3

Flu Season by @coruscantrhapsody: Padawan Obi-Wan has a huge crush on Quin (which is definitely returned). A QuinObi Week 2023 fic by my bestie

Reach For My Hand by jelucan: Quinlan was presumed dead but it turns out he wasn't. He and Obi-Wan wander through Coruscant and have feelings. This is one of my personal fave fics for these two.

With a Little Help From My Friends by @palfriendpatine66: Quin, Obi-Wan, and Siri are best-friends-with-benefits. A piece from last year's QuinObi week that I adored!

On Your Best Behavior by wanderingjedihistorian: Obi-Wan and Quinlan accidentally get married on a mission. Why not have a wedding night?

To Our Halcyon Days by @lothcatthree and @krispyscreams: Obi-Wan and Quin reunite during the empire when Quin finds out their son Cal is alive. A great and super romantic multi-chapter!!

Shaking From Holding You Back by @ashinaburrito: Obi-Wan rips Tarkin a new one when he's rude to Cody, and Quinlan thinks that's hot. Smut ensues in a closet.

Counting to Coruscant by @fanfic-phoenix. This whole series is WONDERFUL and has everything from Padawan Obi-Wan and Quinlan to their lives during the war (and the moments of romance they're able to snag) to the aftermath of Rako Hardeen. Super super recommend!

Red and Orange Beacons Go Forth by @ashinaburrito: Quinlan gets caught in a psychometric vision and Aayla calls Obi-Wan for help.

Betrayal by @brachiosaurus-on: Obi-Wan and Quinlan reunite in the OWK show era. Beautiful, Beatiful fic.

Ride Around the Moon for a Velvet Kiss by blackkat: Snarky and wonderfully in character smut set during the Clone Wars.

Stumbling on the Way Home by CapGirlCanuck: a comics based one-shot that pays homage to Obi-Wan and Quinlan's long friendship. Lovely.

The Beach by @lilywhoisapotato: Stranded on an uninhabited planet, Obi-Wan blames himself for their predicament. Luckily, Quinlan knows how to cheer him up.

Liability by KCKenobi: Quinlan takes care of Obi-Wan after Qui-Gon's death.

Everything They Shouldn't Be by @noncanonship: After Obi-Wan's Starfighter suffers an unplanned fall out of hyperspace, he finds himself stranded near Karfeddion, exactly where Quinlan Vos is on a longterm undercover mission. Obi-Wan intends to avoid Quinlan in order to protect his cover, but the Force has other plans.

I'm going to be annoying and include a few of my own QuinObi fics (there are many because I love these two but I won't list them all):

Kill the Lights: Fix-it that centers on changing the Fives incident in TCW. Quinlan searches for a captive Obi-Wan with Anakin, Padme, and the Jedi's help. Featuring huge amounts of QuinObi (with lore I created based lightly off the Orpheus and Eurydice myth, but happier in the end).

Blood Makes Noise: My QuinObi-centric AIDS Crisis AU set in 80s/90s New York.

After the War (Part the First): It's Quinlan who goes on the Rako Hardeen mission.

After the War (Part the Second): Obi-Wan and Quin reunite via the Hidden Path

Always a Little in Love: Post-Geonosis. Quinlan bursts into Obi-Wan's room to yell at him for almost getting killed. Obi-Wan wants to forget about the war in it's infancy. Feelsy smut ensues.

Forty Years of Knowing: Obi-Wan and Quin commit to each other and extremely tender smut happens. Set in my RoTS fix-it verse but can be read on it's own.

Shoulder the Sky Verse: My RoTS Fix-It verse, including the initial RoTS AU of the same name, and it's sequel, Whispers from the Dead, as well as several one-shots. STS features QuinObi friends-with-benefits-to-exclusivity and WFTD has them in a committed relationship (and said relationship is a big part of the fic).

[starryknight-dragonarts]

The average village characters are often an overlooked part of any fantasy story, who cares about what the Basket weaver is doing I want to see the cool things the Heroes are up to! That's not the case in Bionicle, the Matoran villagers that the Toa protect are just as interesting as the Toa themselves and this is explored heavily in the early series point-and click adventure game MNOG (Mata Nui Online Game) You view the Vast Island of Mata Nui as a Wandering Matoran named Takua who travels from village to village helping other Matoran with their problems and occasionally running into the Toa and getting to see them doing something cool and Heroic, also despite being a Browser based game from the early 2000's meant to sell Legos it's also one of the best pieces of interactive media! You are immersed in this world learning about lore and mysteries from this franchize and the Matoran villagers who make this world feel alive and lived in so you are just as invested in protecting the Island from the Evils of The Makuta as the Toa Heroes!

One of the Memorable characters is a little Matoran from the Air Village Le-Koro named Tamaru. When Tamaru is introduced the Le-Matoran are hiding because their home in the treetops of the jungle have been attacked by Giant Wasp Monsters called Nui Rama who have kidnapped other villagers! By playing a little tune on a flute you notify the village that it's safe to come out now. Kongu the Heroic Bird Rider swings down to meet you by swinging down a vine!...Followed by Tamaru who proceeds to fall and faceplant behind him.

Tamaru is not just a comic relief character, part of the appeal is that they do not fit in among the other Le-Matoran and some of these details though never explicitly stated have lead fans to the widely accepted headcanon that Tamaru is a Trans-Girl Le-Matoran.

A little bit of weird Bionicle worldbuilding is that all of the elements among Matoran, Toa, and Turaga are gendered. This was actually a sort of clever work around on the creators of Bionicle part because of some really stupid rules when it comes to marketing children's toys...as much as I wish decisions could purley be made for the benefit of telling a good story, Bionicle was made to sell Toys because Lego was going Bankrupt in the Early 2000s and needed an original action based franchise that could compete with Star Wars as their best seller before Bionicle were Lego Star Wars sets which means Lego had to pay royalties back to Lucas Films. Basically the reason Toys are so heavily split between Boys and Girls is because corporations want in that way, they split demographics so they are not competing with themselves for Toy sales. Bionicle was Marketed to appeal to boys, so usually with other kids media they would have all Male Hero characters, and a girl on the side who isn't as cool as the heros. By gendering the Elements they made sure that there would always be a girl member of the team who is an Equal member to the dudes. Just as Strong, just as Cool, and just as heroic as her male counterparts. 

I wish they had at least made the team equally split between Male and Female characters, of the 6 original elements only 1 of the tribes is Female, the Ga-Matorans (Water). I guess I gotta take what I can get...but then there is Tamaru. 

Most Le-Matoran are very agile and graceful living up in the trees, leaping from branches, swinging on vines, riding giant birds. Makes sense for a village with Air as their element. This does not come naturally to Tamaru though, Tamaru is scared of heights and gets dizzy looking down at a long fall, but Tamaru has something that the other Le-Matoran don't...She can Swim. Le-Matoran typically don't like water and don't like swimming, it just feels wrong to them for some reason, however Tamaru has no such problem with Water and is more comfortable in the water than she is in the air almost like she has the coding of a Ga-matoran not a Le-Matoran!

Despite being different from the other Le-Matoran, Tamaru is still Heroic. She joins the Chronicler's party and helps defend the Temple Kini Nui from being destroyed by The Makuta's possessed beasts and ensures the Toas safe return to the surface because sometimes Heroes need a Hero too.

This is why Tamaru is very special to me and many other Bionicle Fans.

[mlbigbang2024]

ML Big Bang 2024 Fic Recs

Miscellaneous

This collection of fics were recommended by the contributors of the @mlbigbang2024 for their favourite fics of 2024 (posted in between Nov 2023 and Dec 2024)

General and Teen and Up Fics

What If... Ladybug and Chat Noir had to go on a Miraculous scavenger hunt? (Rated: G)

By Booksforthelost

Tags: What-if, AU - Canon Divergence, Turtle Master Fu | Jade Turtle

Summary: When Master Fu is robbed, Ladybug and Chat Noir find themselves in a race against their enemies to recover the Miraculous.

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: It displays what happens when nobody knows each other's secret identity but work together to stop Hawk Moth. Also, scavenger hunts are very fun!

A Swing and a Miss (and a Kiss) (Rated: T)

By @coffeebanana

Tags: PRPR, mutual pining, canon divergent

Summary: Adrien derails a game of ping-pong with a single sentence: “If I make this next point, my lady, you have to kiss me.”

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: Just two kids being super awkward and kissy kissy meow meow.

The Terror (Rated: T)

By @gaussiansphere

Tags: psychological horror, la terreur au, using a miraculous has side effects

Summary:

Something is rotten in the city of Paris.

A general lockdown has been imposed as the entire world scrambles to make sense of the images of magic and monsters trickling out. Here, all powers have a price, whether they come from the ring on your finger or the voice in your head.

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: Based off the Tumblr comic by @sillysiluriforme , La Terreur, of the same name but in English. Fleshing it out and adding more psychological horror. Things are bad (but it’s okay! (I think))

Meditations (Rated: T)

By @bittersweetresilience

Tags: experimental style, poetry, epistolary

Summary: Félix reflects on fathers, and on monsters, and on dying.

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: I cry thinking about this. It’s so rare we have something so experimental in the fandom. Poetic, epistolary, reflective. It’s a treasure

The Best Worst Day Ever (Rated: G)

By @fandomofone

Tags: awkward flirting, Plagg is so done, fluff and angst

Summary:

Riding high after Hawkmoth’s latest defeat, Adrien’s promising day begins to unravel when he arrives at school and discovers that Chat Noir is apparently a laughingstock following the previous day’s fight against Malediktator- and he has no memory of it. Feeling somewhat hurt and embarrassed, Adrien questions Plagg and is shocked to learn that the source of all his woes may be… his Lady? As if that’s not bad enough, Marinette unwittingly gets roped into his miserable day, and a misunderstanding between them leaves Adrien anxious about the future of their friendship. Can this day possibly get any worse?

Well, there is still patrol duty with Ladybug to look forward to...

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: This is a cute little Adrienette fluff piece that fits snugly between episodes! It occurs after Maledictator, and I just love the adorable idiots. 

Not Quite Right (Rated: T)

By @ladynoirfanao3

Tags: Marichat, protective Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir, identity reveal

Summary:

When Marinette wakes up one morning, she can’t help but feel that something is just a little bit… off. No one else around her seems to feel the same, however, and she is forced to shake off the strange feelings.

It proves to be more difficult than she imagined, especially when an akuma attack leaves her feeling helpless as she watches Chat Noir and Ladybug arrive on scene.

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: It's like it's on the tip of your tongue, but you can't tell what it is

Mature and Explicit Fics

Voyage! Tales of the USS Miraculous (Rated: M)

By @uptoolateart

Tags: AU - Star Trek Fusion, But can be understood even if you don't know Star Trek, PTSD

Summary: Almost four years since the brutal battle at Wolf-359, Captain Marinette Dupain-Cheng – one of the youngest Captains in Starfleet history – has been assigned command of the USS Miraculous.

Her first mission with her new crew is to investigate a distress beacon from the most dangerous region of the Alpha Quadrant – the Neutral Zone. But what they discover is just the beginning of an exploration into the strangest world Marinette has ever visited – her own heart.

* A Star Trek crossover written to be understood even if you aren’t familiar with the Star Trek universe *

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: Such a fun and clever crossover with Star Trek - it fits perfectly in the ST universe, and can also be read fandom-blind. The characters have such different histories but are still so clearly /them/. It's funny and cute, with a healthy dose of angst and hurt, too. There's a very interesting undercurrent of mystery, adventure, and discovery. 

Revealing Commission (Rated: E)

By @katieykat513

Tags: Aged-up, smut, identity reveal

Summary: Marinette: I'm poor! Adrien: I have money! Marinette: I can't take your money! what if I made fanart? Adrien: I can pay for fanart! Marinette: Uhhh what do you want? Adrien: NSFW ladynoir for no specific reason! Marinette: What is my life?

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: The premise alone is enough said, but it also had some sweet fluff mixed in with the hilarity.

Mamma Mia! (Rated: M)

By @ladynoirfanao3

Tags: Cat Walker, unplanned pregnancy, aged-up, identity reveal

Summary:

When Marinette discovers she is pregnant, she is distressed to realize any of the three men she slept with in the recent past could be the father; Chat Noir, Ladybug’s partner and ex with whom she had gone through a tearful breakup - the mysterious Cat Walker, Ladybug’s rebound - or Adrien Agreste, Marinette’s current boyfriend.

But does she quickly discover all three potential fathers are, in fact, the same man? No, of course not; where would be the fun in that?

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: What a better way to play with all the different tropes! Identity shenanigans galore. 

What We're Made Of (Rated: M)

By @uptoolateart

Tags: I have spent the last two years thinking of nothing but sentibeings, I'm taking the sentibeing idea as far as possible

Summary:

Humanity has just survived the apocalypse – with a little magic, and the help of several hundred senti-soldiers. Now, they need to figure out what to do with them…and what to do with the news that the Mayor of London is a sentibeing himself.

Meanwhile, Hugo, the twins, and other children of sentibeings have developed magical powers. But with the trauma of the war still fresh in people’s minds, prejudices are forming and tensions are riding high.

Now, Adrien, Marinette and Felix – and some unexpected friends – must band together again to face old demons and find a way to move forward at last.

Read on Ao3

What we liked about it: Cerebral, emotional, inspiring, and always inventive. I love it when a well-written story expands the lore in a creative, yet plausible way. There’s a direct line from canon to what this story and its siblings in the Breaking Free series do, and it’s a gift to the fandom.

[wishchip106]

Hi just wanna yap in ur inbox about Erik's flying ability because I am obsessed on how he floats and I have no one else to talk to 🧍

Magneto in movies have really goofy and 'stiff' flying scenes but they makes sense to me at least like he can't "fly" like jean or any characters that can fly normally, he's literally using his body like a giant magnet...I feel like that's a really hard thing to do...like when you put to different magnets together and theyre pulling away from each other....and I think that's makes him extra cooler and he's already one of the coolest marvel character ever

I feel like he can't really relax everytime he levitates...he have to concentrate..and balance that's why his leg is always like that. Like dude is literally defying gravity... using only the metal around him.

he looks more relax in his flying scenes In apocalypse because he's powers are enhanced by Oscar Isaac

The fact he can just ride a sheet of metal and floats anywhere he wants is really awesome...

I really love that one scene in dofp where he just launches himself on a moving train... he can't fall on top of it because he can just makes him feet stick to the metal roof....he can literally walk on walls or ceiling if it's made of metal...god why is he so cool

I imagine he always carries a piece of metal with him...just in case in he needs to fly somewhere doesn't want to use his body...he can just makes a big metal circle, sit on it...and go anywhere.

(the flying scenes in the stadium in dofp...you can literally *feel* and *see* the wires 😭)

idk if it's the same for comic magneto so I am talking about movie!magneto only :D sorry for the bad English lol

i’m now just imagining Erik using a piece of metal to fly like mary poppins 😭

it is very silly seeing him float around ramrod straight but also it does make sense with him pushing off the electromagnetic waves

honestly i just wish we got to see how tf he figured out he could fly in the movies

like he just randomly starting floating at the end of first class WHEN DID THAT HAPPEN??

like he didn’t fly at all in that movie up until that point 😔

sighh i’ll probably never know 💔😿

he’s a bit silly 😿

[fairytale-poll]

Welcome to the Best/Worst Modern Fairytale Adaptation Tournament!

We've done best Red Riding Hood, we've done best Cinderella, and we've done best Little Mermaid! As voted by you guys, we'll be switching gears a bit and doing Best/Worst Modern Fairytale Adaptations! This will be two simultaneous tournaments to see what is the best modern fairytale adaptation and what is the worst!

If you are confused on what qualifies as "Modern Fairytale Adaptation", please read the following:

By "modern fairytale adaptation" I mean an adaptation of a fairytale that takes place in the modern day.

I will be a little loose with what I mean by "modern day". "Modern" will be defined as taking place around the same time as when it was published. (Ex. "Splash!" is an adaptation of the Little Mermaid that was created in the 1980s, so it taking place in the 1980s works for "modern day".) The earliest I will accept something taking place is the 1950s, anything earlier than that I will not count as modern.

If the modern fairytale adaptation has some magic / a little bit of fantasy in it, it can still counts just as long as the world it takes place in can be reasonable compared to being our modern day world. (Ex. "Ponyo" has a lot of magical elements with the titular Ponyo being a magical being from the sea and her mother being the Queen of the Ocean and her father a magician, but the world she sees on the surface is very clearly our world, so it counts.)

No futuristic settings. (Ex. Something like "The Lunar Chronicles" series by Marissa Meyer, for example, which takes place in a Sci-Fi dystopia will not count.)

Some other rules to read before submitting:

Submit a modern fairytale adaptation to the best or worst brackets. There will be two separate forms for each, so make sure you fill out the right one!

Submit as many pieces of media as you want, but don't submit the same thing more than once to an individual form. You can submit the same piece of media to both forms, if your heart truly desires. (Ex. You can't submit "A Cinderella Story" more than once to the best bracket, but if you think it's simultaneously the best and worst you can submit it once to both brackets.)

This tournament will be for pieces of media, not individual characters. Thus far we have only done character polls to this blog, but don't let that confuse you. (Ex. Submitting "Sam Montgomery" would not be accepted, but if you submit "A Cinderella Story", that will be accepted.)

Make sure you submit a substantial piece of media, such as a movie, TV show, book, short story, comic book, etc. Things like a comic strip, a meme, or a fanfic will not be accepted. Additionally, smaller pieces of media such as someone's OC story will not be accepted. (There might not be enough public info for someone to vote on & it might not be fair to put someone's OC story against a big name like Ghibli or Disney.)

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[urcursebreaker]

burning body waiting. (ellie williams x fem!reader)

read chapter 1 here | wattpad

warnings for this chapter— graphic gore/mentioned death, trauma, sexual content, thigh riding, oral (f!reader receiving), fingering (f!reader receiving), a bit of angst. | word count: 10.4k

chapter 2: a lesson in grief

Ellie

Two fucking days.

It's been two fucking days, and you're still here, an incessant thorn lodged in her fucking side.

She intended to lead you to your belongings and part ways without as much as a departing word; which was a display of kindness she didn't feel internally in itself. She could've just left you in that deteriorating garage with nothing but the gaping wound in your thigh and the mud-stained shirt on your back and let you crawl your way back to your gun.

Could've just left you in the forest to rot away in a puddle of your own blood.

But she fucking didn't. And she's really fucking pissed off about it.

When she killed those Seraphites it was purely for her own twisted gain; cleansing the already corrupted earth of those vile, cultish fucks was her honor. They were simply obstacles between her and the few sparing miles stretching to Lakehill. She never meant to be your Knight in shining fucking armor.

You would've been a perfect distraction for her to slip away unnoticed. While the Seraphites were preoccupied with tearing the trailer park to pieces to locate you, she could've saved her ammo, preserved her strength, darted right on by without them having even known she was invading their territory.

But then she heard your scream of pure, undiluted terror ricochet through the woods.

Admittedly, and only a little regretfully, she was going to disregard it. It wasn't her fight. She wasn't the dumbass who had walked directly into an open field of untouched goods.

But then she fucking saw you.

Running clumsily but lightening-quick down the hill, arms waving wildly, raw panic contorting your face, tears streaming down your mud-slicked cheeks.

Her heart had twinged at the sight. At the thought of your naïveté; how you likely celebrated the discovery of unopened canned foods and partially stabilized lodging and dusty comics and working tools. How you likely let yourself feel a flicker of hope, happiness, at the vast supplies.

She didn't feel sorry for the random woman who'd fallen victim to her hope; she resonated with the scared little girl that glinted in said woman's eyes.

You were lucky that little girl within you was still alive at all.

Maybe it's fucking weird or whatever, but there was a part of her that felt obligated to protect that tiny shred of innocence she saw. Like it was something she owed to her younger self.

Now, she assesses you thoughtfully from over her shoulder, her grip loose but present on her switchblade.

You wrestle the weight of your shotgun and overflowing backpack, face sweat-slicken and scrunched in extortion, eyes trained hazardously on the rocky hill, concentrated on not toppling over. Your hair is unbound and tousled, coiling from the humidity, damp from earlier's rain.

She thinks of you the other morning, in the pond. Water beading down your soft face, darkening your murky hair. Your tanktop transparent and clinging to every crevice and curve of your body. Your nipples puckering against the thin, sheer fabric. Spurting breaths unconsciously fleeing your wet, slightly agape mouth, lips shining with spit and oily water, eyes fluttering.

Something in her tightens and coils at the thought, before methodically unraveling and spreading through her limbs. She shivers, discreetly flexing her fingers, redirecting her attention forward and picking up her pace.

"How much further?" You groan breathlessly, shrugging up the strap of your gun. "My calves burn."

And just like that, the carnal fucking thoughts dissipate. She screws her eyes tightly shut, expelling a deep breath. "Not too much longer. Gonna make it?" She shoots in bland amusement over her shoulder.

You groan again, tipping your head back, letting the guttural sound echo through the swaying trees. "Where are we even going again?"

"There's a hospital up here." She responds vaguely, gesturing idly ahead with her inked-up hand.

"The hospitals were the first places to be raided, you know that, right?" You breathe conspiratorially, tucking a strand of hair out of your face.

"Obviously I fucking know that," she grits out defensively, and you chuckle at the spearing look she stabs at you. "But it's been rehabilitated like six fucking times, so, who really fucking knows what's there."

The truth is, she couldn't give less of a single shit about medicine or injections or the sealed away cure to fucking cancer. Lakehill Seattle Hospital is one of the Washington Liberation Front's many bases. Even if Abby isn't there, one of her fucking cronies might be; and if it's empty, there will be plenty of signs carelessly thrown around that will lead her straight to where they've scurried off to.

She's killed one of them; and there were however many left standing between her and Abby left to go.

She wants her blood. She wants it to stain her hands, wants to taste it in the crevices of her teeth. She wants to take it slow; disable her with a shot to the leg. Pin her to the wall as she writhes and gripes in pain, pleading for mercy, spewing meaningless apologies. Take a club to her head over, and over, and over again, until her face is an unidentifiable, sinking pile of mush.

Just like she did to Joel.

There's only one thing she wants more than to beat her to a pulp, watch the light vanish from her eyes.

She wants to teach her a lesson. A lesson in grief. Let her feel how it feels to lose someone. Many, many someones.

To lose everything.

She wouldn't stop until the Liberation was up in flames at the match she struck. Until every member that weaved the group together was untethered from its seams. Until every mark they made on this stupid fucking earth was erased, deconstructed.

She was going to find, and she was going to kill, every last one of them.

But she had to get you out of the way first. She couldn't get you involved, couldn't drag you down her relentless warpath. She wasn't totally uncivilized; it was just a matter of deviating from you.

Your lingering presence went unspoken; she didn't comment on your overstay, and you didn't elaborate on why you're still here, a persistent jab in her fucking back. Even so, she couldn't bring herself to discard you, to tell you to fuck off.

It's not that she had any doubt you could hold your own; if you were trekking Seattle alone save for the company of your blind brother, you must possess an air of endurance, have a useful arsenal of skills. Surviving alone is one thing. Protecting yourself and someone else is another.

Joel did it. And the both of them narrowly evaded death with every day they confronted the outside world.

You must be pretty fucking awesome to have made it this far— that is if you were telling the truth.

"You said you were from Ohio, right?" Ellie questioned bleakly, modestly. She wanted to inquire without blatantly prying. You'd kept your personal information under lock and key, clearly only divulging what you'd thought was necessary to appease her. She could respect that.

"Uhuh," you hum absently, licking the sweat off your upper lip, patting your forehead dry with your blemished sleeve. "Like a year ago."

The rest of her interrogation falls short when they crest the hill they'd been ascending, the expired cities lamented, desolate barrenness greeting them unbiddenly. Dark clouds loom in a dreary overcast, shadowing the crumbling, half-toppled buildings. The sparse buildings that do stand are garnished in overgrowth, shriveled vines and coils of cordyceps spattering up their walls. Runners grunt down below, aimlessly roaming the clearing. Ellie soaks it in critically, already internally noting points to avoid, the best trails to take.

"Wow, cool view, huh?" You blurt boisterously, a bright grin plastered to your lips. You dangle your forearm over Ellie's shoulder, leaning your full weight into her, your panting fettering her ear. She tenses, slicing you a glare, before averting her gaze back to the unlively city.

The sun peaks shyly through the clouds, illuminating your beaming expression. You take it all in with plain interest, eyes devouring the sight before you. "I've never seen Seattle from up here," you muse in amazement, marveling at what Ellie deemed unflattering scenery.

Lakehill gleams like a beacon under the sunlight, the mirror panels radiating a sharp glare. "There," Ellie points to it obscurely, taking a couple calculated steps down the hill. Toward the growling, twitching infected. "We should make it by nightfall."

Your eyes flicker from hers, and the steep, impending hill. Your lip curls idly in disgust. Ellie shifts her weight, sinking into the soil, eyeing you closely. She unwaveringly extends her hand, not removing her gaze from yours, hoping she's translating reassurance through her eyes and not the impatience she feels churning inside.

You eye her hand uncertainly, the hesitation ripe and blooming on your face. After a moment of consideration you take it, reluctantly eloping your hand with hers, your eyes still cautiously trained on her.

You're extremely expressive; every emotion paints your face when you feel it. Ellie didn't need to know you long to know this about you. She liked it. Liked being able to tell if you're lying. Liked knowing something she said made you fight your amusement...

Ellie realizes she'd been staring at you, immobile, unblinking, and rapidly shakes her head. She gives your hand a reflexive squeeze before clearing her throat and swiveling away. She says nothing as she attentively maneuvers you behind her, steering you around upended rocks, guiding you over dry-rotting logs.

Your pant leg catches on a suspended branch and you squeak, stumbling forward, your grip tightening on Ellie's hand. She skitters forward, instinctively throwing her arm out in front of you, barring you from tumbling down the hill.

"Careful." She drawls quietly, studying you as you breathe alertedly, your hand imprisoning hers in a vice grip. Her eyes loiter on you for only a second before she's resuming her strides down the winding hill, proceeding carefully, overly conscious of the crevices of your palm, fused with hers.

She tries not to focus on the tangible thrumming of your pulse against her wrist, or the sweat lapping between your conjoined hands. She tries to focus on not tripping, and hurling you both into the midst of wandering, fiending infected.

But the way you keep crushing her hand with each unbalanced stride is slightly distracting. She swears there was a time where your thumb brushed over her knuckles, and whether intentionally or not, she found her heart rate skyrocketing at the delicate caress.

What a fucking loser.

One girl touches her for a split second and she nearly explodes. Doesn't help that the girl is pretty.

Like really fucking stupidly pretty.

Acting right is hard enough when all she has the energy to entertain is the hatred festering in her heart. Acting right when a pretty girl is holding her hand and trailing her like a lost, grateful puppy is another kind of self-control entirely.

You release her suddenly, snapping her out of her stupor. She watches as you twist away with a grunt; drilling a blade through the gnarly, decomposing eye socket of a runner. "He snuck up on us," you breathe harshly, eyebrows furrowed with disdain, as you gyrate the knife slowly, penetrating the writhing cluster of cordyceps sprouting from its gaping hole for an eye.

Ellie watched blankly as it crumpled to the ground with a series of disgruntled chokes. Inwardly, she's horrified that she'd allowed her thoughts to drift so far she'd missed an attack.

"Motherfucker," she snarls furiously, the anger more at herself and less at the mindless infected, shredding your knife out of its deformed head and shoving it back into your hand.

She storms down the remainder of the hill, not even glancing back to confirm you're following, her face scathing with humility, her bones tingling with irritation.

She could hear Joel now; don't ever let your guard down. Luck is what's kept you alive all this time, and it's gonna run out.

If he were here she'd tell him luck wasn't the reason she was still standing.

It was him.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

You

You examine the tray of untouched medical tools in fascination, picking up a scalpel and turning it over, admiring its polished shine. "Looks like there is some stuff here," you admit half-heartedly, glancing at Ellie.

She hovers in the corner of the vacated operation room, her shotgun loaded and braced by both of her hands. She nods curtly, noncommittally, her eyes darting over the expansive wall of glass.

She'd been adjacent to silent your entire downtown journey. After the incident on the hill, she acknowledged you a total of three times; each time being a swift, cursory sweep of her gaze after an encounter with infected, just to ensure you weren't bitten or injured, before whipping back around and continuing her dedicated avoidance of you.

Her shoulders are high-strung, a crisp clarity steadfast in her eyes. You're halfway through your clearance of the first floor, and this is what she's done; loomed in the corner and observed. She looked like she was waiting for something to leap unexpectedly from the shadows and rip the gun out of her grasp.

Though it was blatant she was uneasy, you didn't dare question her apprehension. You had a feeling that if you called attention to her current state, she'd snap.

She seems fragile; not like a piece of pristine, hand-painted porcelain, but like a bomb without its pin, waiting to erupt.

"Ellie?" You drawl tentatively, and she jolts, flicking her anxious gaze to you. "Do you wanna split up to cover more ground? Come together with what we find?" You offer meekly, teetering a line of safety and coaxing her out of her mood-spell.

She blinks. "You look around. I'm gonna clear the rest of the building. I saw some spores outside, so there's probably some fucking infected in here somewhere."

Out of fear of how she'll react if you insinuate that she requires your aid, you don't offer to accompany her, even though you should. Especially if the enormous, pulsating spores you saw winding up the exterior of the building were any indication of what lurked within. "Sure," you chirp with forced invigoration, flashing her a tight, agreeing smile. "Be careful!"

She files out of the rusted double-doors without another word, as if she were a Venus fly trap, waiting for its prey before snapping open its haunches.

You frown warily as you watch her go, one foot ready to stride after her, the other rooted in place.

Of course you choose to stay. You've already taken many risks just by following her all the way out here. You won't risk making her regret letting you.

For the past long, laborious hours of enduring Ellie's quiet, simmering rage, regret for staying has muddled your thoughts.

It's just that after the ambush at the trailer park, you felt strangely wronged. Like it was staged, put on just to test you. Seraphite's do not stray far from their bases; meaning you'd directly trespassed on one. You find it difficult to believe that Abby was sending you into enemy territory unknowingly, and the thought of her blindsiding you makes the already minimal contents in your stomach churn.

The trust you harbored for the WLF was already  precarious; though they were hospitable enough to give you a place to stay and a sliver of their rations, it wasn't without forfeit. You'd confiscated your dignity to comply to their orders, to slave away at their command. They tripled your watch shifts and withdrew your bathing privileges if you failed to report something you saw. You'd jeopardized your safety, obliging when they sent you out on detrimental, useless expeditions to check an already cleared garage on the outskirts of camp. Just to cement your place in their uncompromising group.

Zander, your brother, seems to have immersed himself into the group seamlessly. He besotted Owen and Abby within two days of your arrival; by the end of week one he was already cozying up with them in their tent, indulging in their classified stash of whiskey, their rowdy, boisterous laughter blaring throughout the late hours of the night.

At 3a.m. he'd routinely fumble into the tent and plummet to the rumpled sleeping bag next to you, his breath reeking of alcohol, his slurring words too loud as he bid them goodnight. Every time, you let him believe you miraculously slept through the noise, before swiveling over and shooting him a slicing glare he couldn't see.

"Could you be any louder?" You'd say, overselling the mild irritation you felt at his intrusion to compensate for the fact he couldn't see the disapproving frown blossoming on your lips.

"Could you be any boring-er?" He'd singsong back, fidgeting with his socks, peeling them off and tossing them to the corner. "You could join us, you know. Get to know them a bit. They're pretty cool."

And every time you'd decline. Not because you're a tedious prude who loathes social interaction.

Because the one time you did intend to join them, you were clearly not welcome.

When you benignly chipped into the conversation, or forcefully chuckled at their admittedly unfunny jokes, they would exchange covert looks. Sometimes, you'd catch Abby's eyes analyzing your face, her expression hard, her mouth twisted as she watched you throw back the whiskey that she offered you, unprompted.

You were thankful for the shelter, the semblance of protection, but you were not going to feign companionship with people who were consistently questioning your usefulness, contemplating your personality, debating if you were someone they wanted to accept into their inner circle. Which seemed to be made up of every single one of them except for you.

By facing their challenge and putting yourself through their warped initiation process, you stupidly hoped you'd return, that they would gain a newfound respect for you, shower you in approval, and finally perceive you as the soldier you have the full capacity to be.

Yet, you narrowly made it out alive. If it weren't for Ellie, the cruel but kind stranger, you would be dead. Do you even have the right to wish for their respect? Their acceptance? Did you even have the right to grapple for belonging in the conditions of this world?

For now, it's comforting enough to know that at least your brother has found his place among them; to know he's cared for beyond just existing as an open mouth to feed, beyond being a liability that drains their resources and has yet to prove serviceable.

He's their friend. You're his desperate, too-eager-to-be-liked little sister, laughing at all the wrong times and budding in when you aren't addressed.

So here you are, all these conflicting thoughts warring for dominance in your mind: you want to go back to where you know it's moderately safe, by your brothers side, where there's food and an assured place to rest your head.

But you also want to plunge further down this uncharted path. Want to follow the freckled stranger through the thick of the dejecting forest, see where her blinding determination will take you. Let her lead you through the sad, true state of the world.

It was time to sate your unquenchable curiosity; time to find the belonging you'd been seeking. Time to find a place like home.

Though you doubt you'll find it with the hellbent girl, she'd already taught you things you'd never known, shown you places you'd never seen: she may not be the most reliable companion, but you discovered something new with each hour you trudged by her side.

And that was better than repeating the cycle of unspoken scorn back at camp. At least for now.

A deafening gunshot ricochets through the sky; reverberating through the building, rumbling the floor, disrupting the stillness of the vacant hospital. You pause where you were rummaging through a squeaky laboratory cabinet, fear seizing your heart. You stagger clumsily up to your feet and rush to the closed door, peaking out through the sliver of zagged glass.

Ellie had been gone for over an hour. Time had slipped like refined silk through your fingers; she should've been back by now, and you should've noticed earlier. What if the Seraphites had sniffed out your trail and followed you here?

Anxiety creeps in, lodging icily in your chest, fizzing like half-melted frost. You should be there, fending them off alongside her. What if she dies, or gets bit, and you have no way of getting back to your brother?

Flashes of her, doused in crimson and death glinting iniquitously in her wan eyes, easily, remorselessly moving through the motions of murder after murder, filter through your mind. Quickly dissolving any apprehension and concern you had for her.

You had an eery suspicion she wasn't on the receiving end of that gunshot.

A slight smile subconsciously tugs at your lips as you pocket the vial of mystery liquid you found and withdraw your blade, hazardously peeling the door open, the hinges screeching even at your deliberate slowness. You wince at the splitting noise, glancing down both ends of the long, empty hallway.

Another gunshot rents the muggy afternoon air, followed shortly by another. You can't precisely pinpoint the distance of the sound, but it must not be far, for a bird perched on the glass-littered windowsill flocks away with a loud, disgruntled chirp.

You sheathe your knife and instead scoop up your shotgun from where you'd leaned it on the wall, doing another cautionary sweep of the floor you were on. As expected, it was free of any infected or Seraphites.

You're about to do a second clearing of the abandoned surgery room when the main double doors to the floor boom open thunderously, sending you reeling back, fumbling to aim your gun at the intrusion.

Ellie hovers there, chest heaving with her strained breaths, her eyebrows furrowed as she surveys you with faint recognition in her eyes.

"Jesus, Ellie!" You curse through barred teeth, glowering, dropping your aim to the tarnished concrete floor. "You scared the shit out of me!"

She sniffles, blinking lethargically, smearing the faint spatter of blood off her gleaming forehead. "Sorry," she mumbles noncommittally, smoothly sliding her blood-tainted crowbar into her backpack from over her shoulder.

"You okay? Was that gunshots I heard?" You press unapologetically, taking a couple hesitant half-steps toward her, your eyebrows crinkled in concern as you analyze her from head to toe. She's unharmed, save for a variety of new bruises budding on her face.

"Yeah. A couple infected," she states vaguely, sniffling sharply, hurriedly rushing by. The gust of her forceful strides feathers the hair out of your face, and you stumble over your feet as you march after her.

"Only a few? That's good." You pry bleakly, airily, her impressive muscles straining against her shirt. Her dusty, dark-washed jeans accentuate her legs and ass as she strides with purpose toward the rows of deteriorating rooms.

You swallow harshly and avert your straying attention upward, her loosening half-bun bouncing with her movements. "Yeah," she replies absently.

Silence.

After a moment she clears her throat, coming to an abrupt stop; you nearly collide into her back, gripping her waist to stabilize yourself.

"Sorry!" You squeak, nervously snapping your hand away, the pads of your fingers tingling from where they'd touched her. Your cheeks heat coyly as she flashes you a haughty, knowing smirk.

"The rooms upstairs are in decent condition. There's beds and stuff. We should settle there for the night." She says, her head canted to examine the view from one of the expansive, glassless windows, the dewy sun gradually dipping below the horizon.

"Sounds good to me," you chime, offering a meek smile, watching the sunlight enhance the streams of deep, pacific-blue splitting through her crystalline irises.

Her eyes steadily settle back on you. You have to physically resist the urge to bawk at her acute, engrossing stare, your smile strengthening sheepishly.

She visibly suppresses the careful smile blooming on her own lips, her mouth twitching, before she gulps and swivels back around, declaring a simple, "Get all your shit and meet me upstairs."

You stick your tongue out at her back and oblige.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

The twinkling stars glisten beyond the grimy window emphatically, brightly. The moon's a beaming cuticle crescent, hanging low, the caverns and craters glaringly illuminated by its intense glow. The hollow, desolate buildings sit eerily across the idle city, creaking stridently with the breeze.

Back at the farmhouse in Ohio— the one with the peeling, floral, yellow-wallpapered walls and splintered mahogany stairs; your childhood home— your mother used to creep into you and your brothers shared room, sandwich herself between your already cloistered bodies on the dingy mattress, and envelop each of you with a tattooed arm.

In which both of you would groggily nestle in close, already hanging onto every word about to flea from her lips.

Every night, she'd tell you about the world before it was upturned; before the pandemic swept in.

But specifically, she'd always veer back to the sky. How much it changed since death waged a war over the earth and ultimately claimed a brutal victory.

Her voice direct and soft, she always pointed lazily out the window and lulled wistfully, "See the stars? How close they feel? How bright they are?" and when you'd both nod wearily against the gentle thrumming of her heart, she'd say, "That's the one thing I like better than I did before. Before, the city lights were so bright, you could barely make out the stars through the pollution. Now, they look like they're in reach."

She'd ruefully, dreamily extend her fingers, urging you to mime her, and trace the shapes of the stars, you and Zander following suit, chuckling.

"And having you guys," she'd add swiftly, rubbing maternal, alleviating circles into your arms, glancing at each of you with a doting smile. "If the world hadn't ended, I wouldn't have met your daddy, Zan. Then I wouldn't have you or your sister." She'd smile solemnly at the thought and peck each of you on the cheek before squirming out from under you and sneaking off the bed, where you were already dozing off.

There was always a bright, gentle smile plastered to her lips as she reminisced on the luxuries and simple complexities of life back then. You and Zander couldn't help but smile, too, at the thought of what life could've been like.

After, she'd study your sleeping faces before inching out of the room and down the boisterous, exposing stairs and outside. To where your dad was keeping watch. Your dad was always outside, stationed on the porch, shotgun propped against his leg, whiskey in his bandaged hand. She'd curl up on his lap and kiss his face numb, fall asleep there as he scanned for any wandering infected or worse; heartless scavengers.

His hand was always bandaged. Always.

Zander told you once that before you were ever born, and shortly after his mothers death, him and your dad were trekking through an overgrown ice rank when a clicker sprung on him unexpectedly— and shredded a thick, gnarly chunk out of his hand, tendons and all.

He said he'd seen it all happen with his very eyes; saw the venom of the bite fissure and bubble against his blood, saw it solidify into the scars on his skin.

But he never got sick.

Ever.

You assume it was just another drunken lie, a story he'd fabricated, a creativity he'd inherited from your mom.

Especially after he got infected on a raid; went rabid and frothing at the mouth, growling pleadingly for your mother just to shoot him.

But she'd been bitten too.

And instead of pulling the trigger, they'd ripped each others throats out, ate down to the bone, clawed one another into unsalvageable, gory pieces. They'd devoured each other. So violently and grotesquely that neither of them even fully turned; the cordyceps withered and died before they could even officially transition, because there was scarcely a scrap left for them to feed on.

A small part of you found solace in the notion that they were dead, as opposed to walking deadly among the living. You felt at peace knowing that if there's an afterlife, they were there together.

Zander didn't share that sentiment.

He was the one who found them. Jumbled, tethered shreds of chewed flesh, heaps of bones, two rotting, skinless heads. He'd only been able to identify the remains because of the torn layer of your mothers tattooed skin and the detached, scarred hand of your father.

He returned to the camp you had set up, where you were perched impatiently by the dimming fire, encompassed by two young men and a little boy your parents fostered on the expedition through Illinois. The men laughed raucously, stirring their canned beans. The little boy repeatedly kicked up a half-deflated soccer ball; the constant thud of his knee against the ball grating your nerves.

The look of pure devastation and horror in Zander's eyes will eternally be seared into your brain; will forever brand your thoughts, claim your nightmares. He didn't have to say anything; couldn't say anything, his jaw clenched so tight, he fractured a tooth and his gums started bleeding.

You were only fifteen at the time. He'd strolled right past your heaving, seizing frame, where you'd fell onto the ground and unleashed blood-curdling screams, until you vomited all over the frost-tipped grass. The men rushed over to you, hollering, shaking you fervently, the little boy hovering a safe distance back in tactile fear, ball weakly tucked under his arm.

None of them checked on Zander, who'd sealed himself off in your shared tent. To this day you curse them for that; even though rationally, they were clearly terrified, bewildered by your outburst, having not witnessed what passed between you and your brother.

It wasn't until a deep, petrifying scream of fatal agony split through the smoke-hazed sky, that the men released you and dashed for his tent.

You were lucky enough not to see the outcome of your parents brutal death.

But the luck must've ran out. It must've thought it let you off too easy.

For when they hurriedly unzipped the tent, you had an unobstructed view of what knelt inside; Zander, two blades protruding from the holes where his eyes used to be, gallons of blood pouring down his cheeks, drenching his shirt a red so deep it was nearly black.

The world went silent, a high-pitched ringing cleaving your skull. No noise escaped his open, blubbering mouth, where he projected chunky bits of blood and flim. The little boy rightfully scampered off, and you never did end up finding him.

There's a featherlight knock on the door to your chosen room and you're thrown from the trenches of your harrowing memories. You blink harshly, hot tears slithering down your cheeks, as you tighten your grasp on Baby the blue bear.

It was Zander's old baby bear; a faded, graying blue bear, missing a beaded eye, the ears crinkled and sullied from drool. The droopy stomach stitched and partially hollow from all the stuffing it's lost over the past twenty years.

He'd passed it down to you for your sixth birthday, claiming that he, twelve years old, was a man, and it was time for who was once named 'Barney' the blue bear to belong to someone who could love him. He'd seen how you'd enviously pined after Barney, the way you'd watched curiously as he tucked Barney into bed next to him at night. Most mornings, Zander would wake to you snuggling the blue bear. You never had a childhood object of your own to latch onto as you slept.

You always only had your brother.

He let you rename him to make him your own, and you chose Baby. That was always how your mom and dad addressed you; never by your name, and it filled you with immense joy. You thought it would make him happy, too.

For Zander's birthday a few years ago, you tried to gift Baby the blue bear back to him as a playful joke, as he was turning twenty-one and you thought he would find humor in marking adulthood with his old childhood friend.

Instead, he'd ran his fingers over the fraying bear, felt the groove of its missing eye, and slammed him to the ground, storming away without another word.

You're embarrassed to admit you waste substantial bag space to store the blue bear. But it's times like these, where you're separated from Zander and far from safety as you know it, that you're glad you kept him around.

Ellie says your name. Cautiously, like you'd call a stray cat, unsure if it will lunge an attack or roll over and bear you its belly.

You jolt, whipping around, finding her lingering a few feet away, her hand extended as if she were reaching to touch you. Her eyes dart to the bear clutched frightfully to your chest and back to your tear-slicked face.

"Is that a teddy bear?" She cocks a brow, her tone jesting and nonjudgemental despite the disbelieving look on her face.

You sniffle and aggressively swivel away, scowling at her in the reflection of the window. "It's my brothers," you say defensively, embracing him in your lap, resting him on your crossed legs.

"How old is your brother again?" She muses, the mild humor growing in her tone as you glare daggers at her. "Right. Anyways," she expels a huffy laugh, tossing her hands up in surrender as your glower sharpens.

She continues, unaffected by your irritated stare. "I found a heater in my room. There was a generator downstairs, I'm gonna try to kick that shit on. I was gonna ask you if you could stand by the heater and tell me if it works while I pump it."

You wipe the snot off the tip of your nose, humming and nodding softly in agreement, hopping off the disjointed hospital bed, your socks thumping into the concrete. You lay Baby down on top of the debris-flaked sheet and trail after Ellie, as she'd already whisked out of the room before you'd even responded.

"I'll run down there real quick, just yell if anything happens, okay?" She instructs swiftly, and you nod, slipping into the room next to yours, where she was staying.

The room was impressively put together compared to the others; a pair of white sheers dangled from the crooked overhead railing. There was no mobile hospital bed, just a full-sized mattress strewn across the middle of the floor. A rusted, transportable heater resting on the rubble of a broken nightstand.

You waltz over and plug the knotted cord into the collapsing outlet, bouncing on your heels as you watch it sit there, unmoving. You decide to move it off the debris, tugging it off the splintered wood, grunting at the unexpected heaviness.

A few minutes pass before a frail fluorescent light flickers on from the hallway; followed by the sputtering of the heater, before an orange light flashes on and a wave of dusty heat gutters out, blasting you in the face.

"Oh! Oh, Ellie, it's working!" You shriek in surprise and triumph, jumping up and down giddily, clapping your cold hands in delight. You scamper to the door and scream out, "It's working!"

You cough and bat the swirling plumes of dust out of the air, squinting and smiling to yourself. Ellie rushes in, a hint of relief blooming on her face. "I saw the lights come on," she informs breathily, saddling up beside you, warming her chapped hands in front of the musty heater.

You mimic her, reaching out your hands, turning them over, making sure the heat reaches every crevice. "This room is in pretty good shape," you tell her, examining the dull, cracked painting of a golden pathos mounted to the wall, the old box television face down on a pallet of wood. It looks like it was likely rehabilitated but shortly abandoned.

"Yeah," she huffs, a weak display of laughter, wriggling her tense fingers. "I'll take the other room, so you can have the heat."

"How chivalrous," you giggle, rolling your eyes humorously. She flushes at the joke, her cheeks rosy beneath the smattering of freckles. "You aren't trading me, dummy. We'll share the room."

"Are you sure?" She blurts quickly, her eyebrows elevated in befuddlement.

You provide her a warm smile. "Of course. If that's okay with you...?"

"Yes!" she exclaims brazenly, clearing her throat in mortification at the volume and urgency in which she agreed. "I meant, yeah. Cool."

You chuckle openly at her humiliation. "I've always wanted to have a sleepover!" You babble in exhilaration, hoping to quell her discomfort.

"Yay," she deadpans, monotone, though there's still that particle of a smile as she watches you skip out of the room, heading back to collect your belongings.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

It takes an hour of cleaning up before the two of you are ready to settle for the night. She swept shards of glass off the floor, depositing them out the window, letting them rain down in a series of echoing shatters. You wandered the dimly-illuminated hall and collected the cleanest blanket you could find, beating the sheet against the air, dust and drywall flaking off.

You and Ellie worked together to drape it over the mattress, deigning to lay atop of it as not to touch the drying blood blemishing it. She wordlessly claims the right side, the side nearest the window, as she stands by it and begins to undress.

She shucks off her collared, unbuttoned shirt, unveiling her filthy, once white tanktop. You catch yourself staring intently as she releases her hair of the bun, short, choppy brown waves of hair flowing down the length of her neck. She kicks off her grubby, tearing Converse' and turns to face you.

Her eyes flit over yours for only a millisecond before you're dropping your gaze, clumsily peeling off your jacket and heedlessly tossing it to the floor by your boots.

Ellie reclines on the mattress, crossing her ankles, resting her head on one arm, closing her eyes briefly. You leave her to rest as you crouch down and pillage through your backpack, extracting Baby from where you'd shamefully shoved him back inside after getting caught cradling him.

You twist back around, jolting when you catch Ellie staring down at you from the length of her nose. You languidly, hesitantly, crawl across the mattress, training your eyes on hers as you plop down on the empty spot next to her.

You immediately realize how small the bed is.

Your sides are essentially conjoined; forearms brushing with each breath, legs resting up against one another, as both of you lay there in silence. Neither of you try to sleep. You analyze the ceiling, the pipes and wires suspended from the exposed plywood. Holding your breath each time she incidentally grazes you, warmth flaring in your belly at the whisper of a caress.

You feel a puddle of sweat accumulate against your back, grease your forehead, dampen your skin. You're not sure if it's from the heater or the awareness of her body flush with yours that's making you hot.

You squirm in discomfort, stretching a leg off the mattress, unbuttoning your jeans. Ellie's head snaps over at the movement skittishly, as if jarred by you moving as opposed to only bristling.

You angle your head to face her, smiling sleepily as you leisurely undo each button. "S'it okay if I take these off?"

She swallows. Watches your hand undo the final button, before dipping into the waistband, lifting your ass off the mattress and slowly wriggling them down. Her fingers twitch at her side, tickling your thigh— you shudder, nibbling your bottom lip in concentration at the ghost of her touch, staring into her eyes, the intimacy of your nearness emboldening you.

"Go ahead," she blurts suddenly, chagrinly, fully flipping over onto her side and away from you.

You kick your wrinkled jeans onto the floor, rolling over to face her back, your breaths fanning the nape of her neck. Her shoulders and back heave with each forced, deliberate breath. You count the tiny moles pocking her neck and revealed shoulder, fearing that you had misread the unspoken.

You'd seen how she's been looking at you.

Every time you demanded yourself to extract your attention off of her, you could feel her penetrative eyes in your periphery, could feel them roving you over in a thorough, self-serving inspection. Meticulously eyeing you up and down, as if committing your image to memory, retaining the curves of your body and the makings of your features.

Like the other morning in the pond, when she took you in with torturous precision, the sensation of her carving eyes branding you in phantom proprietary marks. You could still feel the heat of her stare in all the places she'd touched you with her eyes.

She devoured the sight of you like a predator observes it's prey; ravenous but patient. Thirsting for blood, but fiending for the hunt.

There was definitely attraction on your end. She's the scariest but most beautiful thing you've ever seen; a treasure trove beaming with riches and thrumming with traps. She's like an avalanche, the snow is iridescent and glittering under the sun but it's also hurtling at you at a deadly pace.

You thought the attraction was reciprocated from the impact you had on her just by teasingly flirting; she'd flush and awkwardly spin away to shield the embarrassment creeping onto her face. Maybe it was just making her uncomfortable, not flustered.

Your eyes begin burning with exhaustion, the fatigue causing your eyes to droop, your galloping heart rate steadying— when Ellie's voice cuts raggedly through the silence.

"What about your brother?"

"Hm?" You question drearily, shifting, your lips nearly pressed to her shoulder. "What about him?"

"Isn't he expecting you?"

"Huh?" You bleat, flinching when she whips back around, tucking her arms beneath her head as she studies your face. There's only a few, precarious inches separating you.

"You said you were traveling with your brother," she utters, glancing down at Baby, compressed between your sweat-sleeked bodies, your only true barrier.

At that, she lifts him off the mattress, admiring him plainly, before setting him down above your heads and imperceptibly inching her hips closer.

"Yeah," you reply, fumbling for the lie you'd construed, taking it by the ends and tying it into an intricate bow. It's difficult to focus when you're only inches apart, her even breaths tickling your lips, her eyes attentive and abutting. "We have a camp. Not too far from that old house. He's not expecting me to come back for another few days. I told him I'd be gone awhile."

"Mm. He must still be worried about you, hm?" Her voice is husky and low as she drawls the words tiredly, blinking at you slowly, your lashes nearly chafing.

"Maybe. Or he can sense that I'm in good hands," you mutter teasingly, flashing her a coy smile when she seems to liven up at the insinuation.

"Yeah?" She murmurs, eyes flickering over your face, evaluating for any sincerity.

Your heart threatens to burst out of your chest at her nearness, her raspy voice. You nod timidly and hum a simpering, "mhm."

She pensively wets her lips and your eyes absently trail the movement of her tongue. You feel yourself gravitating closer to her, your bare thigh hiked up against the rough surface of her jeans, your pelvis aligned with her thigh, your lips a breathscape apart.

"Ellie?" You whisper gently.

She smiles grimly. Your name drawls from her lips in a deep, devastatingly soft rumble, the pads of her cold, calloused fingers dubiously coming up to brush your cheek. "You're so pretty."

A light, delicate gasp bursts unexpectedly out of you at her cool touch, your eyes fluttering shut. The praise sends a shiver up your spine. Her thumb unfurls to trace the shape of your lip.

"Look at me," she mumbles, and you obey, the unannounced authority in her gentle command sending your eyes snapping back open.

Her pupils are dilated, darkness infiltrating her tantalizing eyes. She runs her rough fingers contemplatively down the curve of your bottom lip, dragging it out in fascination.

You blindly part your lips for her access, humming in delight when she takes the right of passage, easing her thumb past your welcoming lips.

She inhales sharply as you draw your tongue across the crease of her thumb, sealing your lips around her knuckle.

"Jesus fucking christ," she breathes in awe, her fingers firmly clasping your chin as she indulgently thrusts her thumb in and out, watching it disappear into your plush mouth.

Her free hand slithers up the hem of your cami. Following the dip of your waist. Diligently gliding down and spanning over the curve of your hip, roaming to your backside. She cups your ass, suddenly steering you closer, the force behind her claiming touch igniting a deep-rooted flame of desire within you.

Your responding whimper is muffled against her thumb, and she chuckles darkly, slipping it out. A lecherous string of saliva bridges from your lips to her thumb. She considers it for a moment before taking it into her mouth, sucking it clean of your spit, her cheeks hollowed and eyes lust-filled as she gazed back at you.

"Ellie," you repeat gutturally, her name departing from your lips in a desperate whimper as she torments you with her slothful, patient movements.

She removes her thumb from her mouth with a potent pop. "Come here," she directs, greedily snatching your face into her hands, hungrily slamming her lips into yours.

The kiss was addictively electrifying. Lightening seared through your body in lascivious bolts, kindling warmly in your belly, as you feathered your fingers through her auburn hair in a fruitless attempt of fusing her into you. You match the dire intensity of her lips, duplicate it, eagerly inviting her tongue into your wanting mouth.

You carefully ascend off the mattress, sitting up, your lips never detaching, hands never abandoning one another; roving each other fervently, as if the other will evaporate if not constantly palpable in each others hands.

You lift a leg and straddle one of her thighs, cautiously hovering over her, not wanting to bombard her; though your pussy was pulsating, reflexively bucking in the air, craving pressure. Ellie must sense this, for she viciously seizes your hips and forces you to fully bear your weight down, a groan of pleasure rumbling from her lips, vibrating against yours.

You mewl, gently sinking your teeth into her bottom lip, nibbling sensually, before drawing it out. She huffs in surprise, arching off the bed to follow your lips, one arm propping her up, the other gleaning up your waist, holding you in place, her tattoo stark against your pliant skin.

She begins grinding her knee up and you squeak out a stunned moan, your lips unlocking from hers in a carnally sticky pop as you throw your head back at the delicious sensation of her jeans against your wet pussy. "Fuck," you pant out, giggling, planting your trembling hands on her flexing shoulders. "That feels so good."

She grips your hips assertively, guiding you into a grinding rhythm against her thigh, another whimper fleeing you from the friction.

"Yeah?" she mutters, and you nod robustly, crashing your slick forehead into hers, breathing into her open mouth.

"Yeah," you reply airily, shortening your jumbled response with another kiss to her lips.

The sensation was blissful and new; you were inexperienced save for the few times you'd played with yourself when you got a rare spout of privacy, and the time you jerked off a man you were traveling with when you were sixteen.

You'd never felt anything like this before; the way your skin erupts with goosebumps in the wake of her touch, the way your lips tingle with desire, the puddle pooling in your panties at the unfamiliar, pleasurable pressure building in your clit.

You instinctively increase your pace at the mounting pleasure, bucking your hips wildly, sloppily, threading your fingers through her hair and deepening the kiss. She delicately pulls away, sweeping her veiny hands up the length of your bare back, hiking your shirt up.

You pause and wordlessly lift your arms. She smiles roguishly, masterfully peeling it over your head, the static tousling your hair. She tosses it to the side without regard, her mouth agape as she admired your puckered nipples.

"Fuck," she seethes in disbelief, grounding the curse through gritted teeth, winding her hands up your stomach to ardently palm them in her hands. You moan as her thumbs tweak your hardened nipples, massaging expertly, another labored "fuck" exiting her watering mouth as she stares intently at your exposed breasts.

"You like that?" You taunt with a dreary, blissful smile, resuming your thrusts against her thigh as she nods, quickly engulfing an arm around your waist and pulling herself up to level her mouth with one of your breasts.

She peers up at you questioningly from beneath stern eyebrows, her eyes captivating and tainted with need. You nod feverishly, the exhilaration and desperation for her holding you hostage, held at gunpoint by your ripened desire.

She wastes no time latching her lips around your aching nipple, the feeling of her hot tongue sending you arching back, a raw, animalistic sound shredding from you. "Ellie, please," you breathe, unsure of precisely what you're begging for. More? More of her. More of her tongue. More of her hands?

Yes. All of the above.

"What do you want?" Ellie demands, one of your tits in her hand, the other slick with her saliva as she vigorously kisses up your sternum, nipping at your collarbone, dragging her tongue up your throat, your sweat relinquishing bitterly on her tongue.

You cradle her head, stroking her hair, angling your neck to allow her better access as she plants ticklish kisses along your pulse. "You. I want you," you plead gratingly.

You can't believe this is happening. That the girl who'd killed dozens without remorse or pause was the same girl touching you now, with bloodstained hands.

And you can't believe that you loved it.

She must share your disbelief, for she pulls away soberly, her eyes glowing with lucidity, clearer than before, when lust-muddled. They flicker between yours searchingly. "Are you sure?"

You graze your knuckles down her face in a smooth caress, looking down at her. "Yes," you assure with a loose smile, basking in the way she closes her eyes in comfort at your gentle touch.

She lingers like this, eyes shut, cheek resting in your hand, her breaths labored. Long enough for you to start worrying that she regrets what the two of you had started to do.

Those creeping fears slither back to their enclosures when she grips your thighs, suavely flipping you over and onto your back, your legs spreading around her waist, your thighs in her arms.

You hiccup on your breath at the swift, abrasive motion. Her hands clasped around your thighs; your legs bared for her, revealing to her the damp spot blossoming on your panties.

"Is this for me?" She teases, running a finger over the top of your panties, the featherlight touch making you squirm. "That's a good girl."

You nod sheepishly, your cheeks heating in humiliation as she snickers and slowly, promisingly, tugs them down, heedlessly shucking them over her shoulder.

"You're so fucking wet for me," she states quietly, prying your legs apart further, examining your pussy, soaked and constricting at the wicked gleam of satisfaction on her face. "I need to taste you."

Holy fuck.

All you can do is nod passionately in agreement, your heart drumming so thunderously, it's nearly twinging in agony, your pussy screaming to be appeased.

She inches back, hoisting your legs over her shoulders in the process, lowering herself down to meet your cunt. She's kneeling on the ground now, at the foot of the mattress, her breaths fanning detrimentally over your slick cunt, the faint contact making your legs snap shut— or try to.

Ellie grunts in disapproval, wedging your thighs back apart, eyeing her feast, hunger dwindling in her eyes, as if she didn't know she was starving before she had the meal laid out before her.

She uses her fingers to part your wet lips before diving in, licking a thick stripe along your entrance, gathering your juices and dragging her tongue to your pulsating clit. You unleash a heinous, strangled moan at the sensation, as she prods and suckles your bundle of nerves.

You uncontrollably writhe into the strokes of her tongue, chasing the escalating pleasure, the tension in your body coiling as she sucks and slurps with exuberance, devouring you.

She hums richly, smoothing her hand over your stomach, forcing your hips onto the bed. She thrusts her tongue into your entrance, maneuvering around your clit, swirling it along your folds, not leaving an inch of you untouched. You shakily rake your fingers through her hair, your breaths coming out in disjointed bursts, face twisting in pure pleasure.

You didn't know how it could get any better than this.

Until her finger prods your slick entrance, massaging it gently, her lips unabashedly sucking your clit as she delicately eases her finger into you, your tight walls stretching and expanding to welcome her.

"Oh my god!" You yelp at the invasion, pain and pleasure coinciding, as she leisurely inched her full index finger into you, curling it inside. You moan wantonly as it plucks a sensitive spot within you, your hips bucking up primally on command.

"Just like that," she declares, her words muffled by your pussy, nearly incoherent beneath the sound of her tongue lapping up your juices, her finger disappearing into your cunt. "Just like that, baby. Fuck my fingers."

At that, she slowly slips in a second one, the pleasure overshadowing the pain, now, as you squint down at the sight of her, burrowed between your thighs, ravenously licking and sucking, her tattooed arm dripping in your juices as she curls her digits in and out of you skillfully.

Her method of hunting seems to bleed into other aspects of her life; she's relentless with her prey, doing what needs to be done, whether it be to kill them or to make them come undone.

You can feel yourself begin to unravel at the seams; your body convulsing with your impending orgasm, teetering so close to the edge you're already halfway dangling off. "I- I think I'm—" you cry out, straining off the bed, clamping your thighs around her head. "I'm gonna—"

She removes her lips and fingers from you altogether. You whimper in protest, desperately shifting your hips into the air, begging for contact, your now fading high lost.

Ellie's lips gleam with your juices as she grins depravedly. "Not yet."

You frown somberly, even as she ascends to her knees between your legs, hovering over you, her mussed brown hair draping across her cruelly amused face. She plants a hand on the side of your head, fiddling with the button of her jeans, leaning in to press another kiss to your pouting lips— when a high-pitched scream shreds through the otherwise quiet air.

Ellie efficiently clasps her slippery hand over your mouth before you can bleat out the noise of befuddlement at the tip of your tongue. Her head is snapped toward the barricaded door, body eerily still, even her previously labored breathing completely silent.

She meets your wide, apprehensive eyes with a steady stare. "Shh," she says softly, as she hesitantly peels her hand off of your mouth.

She creeps off of the mattress stealthily, crouching, as she half-hazardously drapes the sheet over your bare figure. She shrugs on her stained collared shirt over her damp tanktop, tugging on one of her converse. You scramble to assist her, rapidly tying her shoe as she slipped on the other one.

Once you were finished, you fumbled for your top and panties, hugging the sheet to your chest, that paralyzing scream an ice bucket dousing the fire of your arousel. Now all you felt was dread, and faintly foolish, like you were senseless for actually believing for one second that you could just... let go. Forget about the horrors.

You're gracelessly yanking on your top when Ellie halts you with a hand, giving your shoulder a brisk squeeze. "You stay here. I'll go check it out." She's donning her baggy, brown leather coat, backpack already slung over her shoulder, loaded shotgun in hand.

"No. I'm coming with you." You scoff in objection, tugging on your underwear, crawling toward your backpack.

She strokes her palm across the bend of your protruding ass. "Come on. Please just stay here, alright?" She announces exasperatedly, defeatedly, shrugging a lame shoulder when you toss her an agitated look.

"Why? Why can't I come with you?" You demand, brows furrowed, as you stumble to your feet weakly— your thighs wet and quavering— and shove your feet inelegantly through your jeans.

"Stop— stop." She grips your wrist belligerently, growling the order, her earnest face looming close to yours.

"I don't want you to go alone!" you plead skittishly, anxiously chewing your lip, gesturing animatedly with your hands.

Ellie straightens at your admission, clearing her throat, pink blooming on her cheeks. As if her lips weren't still shimmering vulgarly with your juices; as if she hadn't just nearly eaten your pussy to climax. Her hair disheveled from where your fingers had clawed through it.

"You should keep watch from the window. That scream likely just drew all sorts of shit from the dark. Make sure nothing gets in this building, okay?" She instructs calmly, her scarred lip twitching as she glances toward the door, which you'd blockaded with a dresser. "I'll go check out the noise and come right back."

You consider intensively before grudgingly agreeing with a nod. "Fine," you remark sharply, strutting over to the dresser, where she stumbles after you in surprise of your compliance. You know she just wants to get away from you. Again.

This time, there's more substance to it, more of a sting. The last time she'd rushed away from you you'd taken it less personally; it was alcohol on a paper-cut, as opposed to alcohol on a gaping wound.

You avoid her gaze as you take the left side of the dresser, her taking the right, shoving it away from the door with a loud shrill against the scuffed floor.

You walk away mutely once it's done, wriggling your jeans back up as you pursue your own gun, buttoning them hastily and scooping it up, striding over the mattress and toward the window. You unlatch the expansive glass and aggressively slide it open, requiring more strength due to the rust.

The frigid breeze cascades through the window, your tousled hair billowing with the wind, cheeks instantly tingling at the chill. You prop your forearms on the mucky windowsill, gun in hand, the stars glimmering vibrantly. The air cooling your sweaty skin.

You can sense Ellie's lingering presence in the room, her shifts from side to side creaking the floorboards. You disregard her, closing your eyes, embracing the fresh air, the rustle of the vines coursing up the outer brick of the building.

She eventually clears her throat. "I'll be right back," she announces, reaching for the doorknob, her gaze still burning through your back.

"Okay."

She falters. In the reflection of the glass, her mouth flounders open and closed, something akin to guilt contorting her face. "Be careful," she chooses to say, the door screeching as she shoves it open, glancing at you conclusively from over her shoulder.

"Bye." You respond blandly, not breaking your concentration from the sky.

"Seal the door back up behind me." She demands while departing, not sparing a glance.

Once the door hisses and seals shut, you allow yourself to sink to the ground, your stomach churning with unease. Both because you feared the source of that scream, and because Ellie had just made you feel things you never could've imagined. And now that you've been shown a glimpse of your primal side, you don't know if you'll ever be able to revert back.

You only hover at the window for a few minutes before sealing it back up, retiring your gun back to its original position. You muster all your might to push the dresser back in front of the door.

Once done, you slink back into bed, the room chilled enough now that even with the heater you can comfortably slip underneath the sheet without overheating. You brace your sleep-heavy head on your arms and face the door, waiting for Ellie to return.

Or at least that was the original plan. You don't know how it happened; the exhaustion must've outweighed your concern, for you passed out shortly after laying down, the abyss of sleep consuming you.

You startle awake the next morning, lurching up with a jolt. The sun streams gently through the sheer, white drapes, particles of dust glistening in the dense air.

The first thing you notice is the lack of Ellie.

Her backpack is gone. The heater is off. The dresser is pressed up against the wall; the door ajar. A morning bird chirps from the receptionist desk outside the room.

You swivel to face her side of the bed in alarm, as if you'd magically just missed her laying there, only for it to be empty.

Except it's not totally empty.

The blue bear lays in her stead, carefully splayed across her spot, his fading blue skin clear-cut against the patch of dried blood soiling the mattress.

[hackedmotionsensors]

I went to library con (lol its not called library con but thats what i called it. Its American Library Association Annual which is funny bc they call it ALA and I was like...that shitty anime con???) this week in san diego to promote the comic I worked with Terry on "Eat your Heart Out"

I got jumpscared seeing the big banner. My art has never been on anything bigger than art center presentations lmao

We handed out signed copies and it was honestly pretty fun. I have a ton of bookmarks as well if anyone wants one.....if you can find me in real life LMAO

I also got to be on a PANEL like a big professional lmao And met Josie Campbell an animation brethren and we were like "LETS GO TAG! LETS GET THOSE NEGOTIATIONS!!!!" (Reminder that The Animation Guild is due to negotiate with studios in August so please support us!!!)

Downside was is that some of my sunburns are still really fresh (most of them are in gross peeling stage and some are...kinda painful) so I was a bit sweaty and uncomfortable...and now I'm paying for it bc i feel really under the weather.

BUT. lol my issues aside (it was my own damned fault getting burned the weekend before)

It was really fun!

Librarians are really cool lol Especially since I tried to get into that field during my unemployment last year and a half it was interesting hearing what they had to deal with as Librarians for children or teens (The teen librarians kept talking to me about Slam Dunk and One Piece *u*)

There's also this huge emphasis for book sellers in getting your books IN libraries. Books in actual physical libraries does so much for the value of payments of the book (which in turn pays the authors and artists that work on those books).

And how much librarians and libraries do for the industry as a WHOLE. I learned that back in the day when english manga was coming out they were binding the books REALLY SHITTY and its funny bc I DO remember that. The quality was really bad. And because librarians complained about it, because a book circulates through a lot of people rather than if you buy a volume for yourself, the book will get damaged really fast if the book is made poorly. So Viz had to change HOW they bound their books and you can definitely tell now how the quality is so much nicer.

Anyway it was really cool lol And also since it took place at the San Diego Convention center it was really cool to see what SDCC looks like when its not an absolute cluster fuck of people and noise lol I saw where I slept on the ground outside to get into Hall H and we were treated to a dinner at Roys which I'd only ever seen in passing lol (ALSO ROYS WAS SO EXPENSIVE!?!? And I thought the onigiri was like...the salmon went INTO the onigiri....so that was the dish. but it was...a ball of rice onigiri shaped with some salmon ...and it was REALLY good salmon and the misoyaki was good too but.....i was expecting really expensive onigiri and was oddly disappointed it wasn't....that.......anyway)

ANYWAY ANYWAY lmao. Our comic comes out in August 13! I've finally seen the finished product and it came out so well. Yknow that thing where you see your art from a few years ago and you want to crawl into a hole and die? Well lol I still feel that but also I don't because it honestly looks so good and its nice seeing it all in one whole place! The coloring came out really nice ! And I can't wait to see what Claudia did in the second half of the book

Oh yeah I also got a comped train ticket to get me down there and I got to ride the Amtrak which was pretty cool! I ...was EXHAUSTED on both trips down and back so I slept most of the way lmao But look at this guy!

Lol ALTHO I was genuinely surprised that when we came back from san diego the train just goes in reverse.

On shinkansen the seats on the train are able to turn around so you're always facing forwards. So it was a little disorienting at first. I also wished I had an ekiben on the way down.

Its cool I can get an ekiben in august when i go to japan lmao