#scorching cupcake | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

screampied · 9 months ago

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vegas id give you the sloppiest head ever if you wrote scissoring w shoko 🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽

★ : rubbing pretty clits w shoko.

cw. fem! reader, wlw, scissoring, praise, spanks, nıpple play, overstim, petnames, mdni.

shoko who can’t help but giggle, watching with doe brown irises as your hips stutter every few seconds. you were simply no match for her pace. with your slick cunt repeatedly grinding back against hers, you were already this close to losing it. to making yet another mess. she’s lied flat on her back, one hand gripped against the left side of your waist before humming, tilting her head in faux coy. “cupcake, c’mon, thought you said you knew what you were doing, hm?”

as your mouth hangs open—you lock your legs securely against hers, trying to scissor her properly. the heat of skin clashing against each other makes a school of butterflies flutter inside of your tummy. “m tryin’ shoko,” you pant, watching as she trails a hand down your ass, a thumb brushing up against it’s shape as if it was carved into a heart. “fuck, feels so good, ‘sho.”

“try harder, honey,” she huffs, almost about to break out a sweat herself. long brunette locks tangle around her finger as she keeps a keen eye on you the entire time. puffy cunt hoods glissade against each other back and forth and oh, the stimulation. with the mixture of her growing heat, you felt hot. shoko’s angle of her thigh legs wrap around yours and you felt everything. “pick up the pace, uh huh—good . . girl,” and a sharp gasp wrenches out of her throat once you start to accelerate. “thaaat’s it, fuck me, pretty girl.”

both scorching hot bodies continue to move in rhythmic sync. she lets off a sweet moan, feeling the convulsing thumps of your clit pulse against hers and it feels almost too good.

her breath hitches as she snakes a hand toward your breasts that bounce right in front of her face. “come closer, cupcake. don’t be shy,” and her words were a bit low—she lets off a tiny hiccup as her eyes roamed at your perfect jittery body. with each lengthy second that passed, she was getting more and more drunk from your sweet cunt. as you lean closer, pawing your right hand into the mushy skin of her right leg, she grabs ahold of one of your tits, latching her plump glossed lips against the tender nipple. “mhm.”

you moan out a singular hiss, bouncing against her body as she lies right underneath you—

skewing the bulb of your cunt straight against her drooling opening. with the merciless speed of your hips, she could barely keep your sweetened neglected mounds in her mouth. although, she left a pretty trail of her sheeny saliva onto each of your tits. she sucks against them both, briefly closing her eyes shut as you’re merrily rutting into her sloppy core salaciously.

“shokooo,” you drag out her words in a candied slur of both twin syllables.

the slow yet deadly grind of your hips had her head spinning. not just hers but yours too.

clammy hands of hers make their way back toward your unsteady hips, yanking them closer to her sweltering, sticky heat before she spanks your ass.

with that single spank . . one turns into two, then three, then four.

shoko’s obsessed with your ass, never failing to leave it a few concise stings near the very plush parts of your flesh. “f— fuck,” she stammers, a shake in her voice due to your insane rhythm. she felt it too, with both sloppy mounds bumping against each other, the incoming pleasure was almost inevitable to feel. she pried one of your legs open just a bit farther apart, strumming her slender fingers against your pulsating cunt to play against your throbbing slit. “mhm, twitching so good for me, huh. you gonna make a mess already? barely been a few minutes, cupcake.”

your throat was parched with dryness — with the bed underneath you and shoko wailing out in weak creaks, you moan. as your head tosses itself back in rapture, your trembling thighs briefly shifts to acclimatize against her wide open angle.

“gonna cum, shoko,” you warn, feeling the furrow of your eyebrow pull both arched brows together. for just a second, you take a second to suck in a nice amount of balmy air.

everything around you felt so warm, including the welcoming cunt of your girlfriend who’s just humidly sultry with tepid heat.

effortlessly, it sticks against your own core, creating a lewd concoction of damp juices, forming into a little soaked cobweb. there’s an entering ring that goes through your ears and hers. it’s never ending screech makes your back arch at the moment of your climax and she slumps back against the mattress. her skin’s met with the velvety silk sheets. as her body directly underneath you moves back in drowse, her lowly hooded eyes meet yours again once you prepare to speak out a whimper. “can i cum, shoko? pretty please?”

“with those manners, you can do anything you want to me, cupcake,” she hoarsely whispers, pulling you close to her face.

inches away, you close the remaining distance to drag her into a needy, wet kiss.

both bodies remain to rut back ‘n forth, limbs all tangled and intertwined in pure bliss.

she tasted so sweet. her syrupy gloss ghosts against your tastebuds and you moan right into her mouth. shoko was handsy, wasting no time to feel all over the curvature of your presentable physique. starting at your ass — then back toward your hips and the rest of your body. she even leans in, lolling her tongue out to lick a long stripe down the valley of your chest.

“mhm,” you whimper, sappy soddened juices squelching against each other. as you both eventually succumb to your orgasmic peak, in each mouth, you both moan in pretty flawless unison.

your hips come to an abrupt slow but you’re still jerking against her, swerving in swift addictive arcs as she feebly wrapping her arms around your waist. the rickety of the bed continues to sob out creaks from the double amounts of weight. “baby,” she croaks out lowly, strings of fluids departing with each inch that you move your cunt away from hers.

exhausted, you slump forward into her chest and you feel a rumble of her shoulders. “ah, worn out already? i guess we can take a break,” she whispers, feeling your body still shiver within her hold. her touch was always gentle—she loved how you’d always lean into it, lean into her. with a sheepish smile curling against her slight crooked lips, she makes you sit up. you unlock your weak legs against hers before lying on top of her, droopy eyes meeting her lust filled gaze. she gives your forehead a single kiss before huffing. “you did so good, baby. always so good for me.”

“s- shoko,” you stutter out, her perfume making you throb. you were already starting to fantasize about the lewd feeling of her cunt rubbing off against yours in carnal harmony that was literally just seconds ago.

“shhh,” she shushes you, a thumb swiping its way over the part of your lips. body again body — it was warm, her sweat mixed with yours and you could feel yourself aching for more. already, you missed the way she felt bumping against your sensitive pussy. it made your head spin, your nerves were still in overdrive before she makes you lie on her chest. “let’s rest, okay,” and her slight raspy voice made you let off a soft content sigh. she strokes your back, hearing your breathing slow a bit before she coos against the shell of your ear. “when you’re well energized again, i’ll start a nice bath for us both,” and she gives the crown of your forehead one more kiss.

“my sweet girl.”

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comatosebunny09 · 3 months ago

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how to stop the rain | sylus q.

— summary: you just wanted to catch bugs. but the rain had other plans, forcing you to wait it out in your home where another tempest brewed inside, spurred by your unlikely company.

— cw: female reader, female anatomy described, animal crossing au (the animals are human-sized & you don’t look like adorable chibis, just regular-degular people), vanilla-ass, penetrative sex, cunnilingus, fingering, creampie, friends to lovers, jealousy, silliness, romantic dribble, profanity, terms of endearment, consent king, praise, sylus is just a chill dude who likes you, like one bestiality joke, mdni

— notes: fueled by this blurb & this one & @alfredosaws & @asirensrage inspiring me with their comments. as always, thank you for reading, turtledoves.

— now playing: stale cupcakes - sleeping phoenix

It’s raining.

You can’t say you didn’t anticipate it; Isabelle forecasted it in her daily announcement. Still, you insisted on foraging for materials and hunting for bugs, dragging an indifferent Sylus alongside you.

You were about to capture a monarch butterfly, net poised overhead. Sylus watched you with quiet amusement, leaning against a cedar tree when the first clap of thunder shook the sleepy island. The resulting drizzle quickly morphed into a downpour, chasing the island’s other inhabitants inside.

“Not a word,” you clipped when Sylus snickered beside you, kneeling to help you gather your tools. You weren’t sure what irritated you more—the rain’s uncanny timing, Sylus’ teasing, or the pretty, cyan monarch fluttering just out of reach of your net. You had been hunting that thing for days!

The pair of you fled the forest as rain pelted down, your curses and laughter intermingling with that of your heavy footfalls splashing in errant puddles. Sylus used his coat as a makeshift umbrella, but it didn’t hold for long. You were both drenched, your clothes matted to you like a second skin, by the time you reached your doorstep.

Swathed in the pale haze of your entryway, you pant as your mirth peters out. And as the silence of your home takes over, you become keenly aware of how close you are to him. How warmth radiates off his skin, scorching you to the bone. And the scent he carries is reminiscent of bonfires and sea spray, an aroma you’ve learned to associate with home.

Your eyes slide over the contours of his torso, defined by the wet cling of his shirt. He’s a far cry from unsightly—you first noticed how handsome he was when he appeared on your quiet little island some months back, swept in by the idle drag of the tide.

Your study ends at his face where your gazes interlock, his scarlet eyes creasing with mirth to match the cant of his lips. “Like what you see, sweetheart?”

You quickly look away as heat creeps into your face, evoking a chuckle from the center of your ruminations.

“Clothes. I’ll get you some clothes,” you utter, feeling along the wall for your light switch.

The confined space floods with warm light—your saving grace. You maneuver through your home, drip-dropping onto the hardwood floors in pursuit of your bedroom. With a towel draped over your shoulders, you return to the figure standing in your living space, a dark, regal cutout amid your minimalistic decor.

You clear your throat, more so to cast away the dreamlike fog that had befallen you. Toss a towel at his head, avoiding the inquisitive arch of his brow as you deposit sweatpants and an oversized shirt into his hands.

“Clothes from an old fling?” Sylus pokes, something new coloring his typically flat tone.

You shrug as you make for the hallway, ignoring how a bit of you sparkles at the prospect of him being jealous. You are merely friends—you showed him the ropes when he was disoriented and irritable, helping him find a place on the island when he finally accepted that it was his new home.

As time passed, you found it more challenging to deny your attraction to him. Sure, he appeared rough on the outside. But as he settled into the humdrum of your lifestyle, his rigid edges started to smoothen, and you discovered there was more to him than his sharp quips and shady origins.

You retreat into your room once more, your waterlogged clothes puddling around your feet. You settle on a shower. Its soothing spray eases the tight coil of your muscles. Washes the grime from your skin. When you’ve thoroughly scrubbed off the day’s adventures, you pour yourself into something comfortable, towel-drying your hair before emerging in your home’s main lounge.

It’s serene here. Warm—you lit some logs in the fireplace to chase away the biting cold the rain ushered in. The pop and fizz of the fire merge with the sound of rain patterning your rooftop. The shower in the guest bathroom sputters to life. Sylus must have had the same idea, his clothes folded in a neat pile atop your dryer. Briefly, you tango with the imagery of him in the shower. Skin flushed from the hot spray, water easing over the ridges of his body, lips parted with a relaxed sigh pushing through them, his back muscles—

You chuck his attire into the dryer alongside yours, deciding that a pot of tea would be a lovely distraction.

Seated at your dining table, you smile as you watch the rain beyond your window, the warmth of your mug bleeding into your palms. With your finger, you draw nonsensical shapes into the condensation collecting on your windowpane, falling into a bout of normalcy.

You hardly register the guest bathroom door opening, nor do you notice the figure moving through the quiet tranquility of your abode until he startles you with the click of your electric kettle placed back on its base.

You’re met with a defined, warm ivory stretch of skin panning in. With scarlet eyes tuned to you beneath alabaster locks pasted to his forehead, wet from his shower. He towels off his hair as he slides onto the chair across you, legs crossed, and you owlishly blink as he sips your tea from one of your mugs as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

No matter how often you’ve invited him into your home, you'll never get used to this. How massive he is in comparison to your humble kitchen. What audacity he has, making himself comfortable as if it’s his second home. And shirtless, no less. Bloody shirtless and shameless, and your throat grows dry as you force your eyes elsewhere, grip white-knuckled on your cup’s handle.

“Was the shirt too small?” you ask to assuage your nerves, knocking the ceramic lip of the mug against your teeth. Smooth. Real smooth.

“It was,” he replies with a twitch of a smirk. Perches his elbow on the headrest, and you try vainly to ignore how such a simple movement boasts his bicep. “I don’t necessarily enjoy wearing another man’s clothes, either,” he adds, pensively looking down at his sweats. They’re a snug fit, the hems cinched around his shins. “A small one, at that.”

You sputter into your mug, tea flying every which way. Bite back a smug little smile as you blot your mouth dry with your sleeve. Sylus’ brow quirks. Never mind if the pants don’t quite fit him. He’s jealous, isn’t he?

Who would’ve thought your companion possessed such a trait? And for you, of all people? Perhaps you’re not as friendly as you perceived, and the notion makes you brim with muted glee.

In all honesty, the clothes are yours. You have a penchant for loose-fitting, oversized things. But you decide to play up this newfound insecurity, feigning nonchalance as you sip from your mug.

“Who else has been here besides me?” prods Sylus, voice fringed by bitterness. “As far as I've gleaned, we’re the only two humans on this island.”

It’s endearing, really—how up and arms he’s getting, bristling like a wet cat, leaning slightly over the table to interrogate you. Scarlet eyes narrow beneath pinched brows, something of a pout tugging his lips southward.

You shrug, spurred by his envy. “Who knows? It could’ve been the mailman, Saharah, maybe even—ow!” You flinch, rubbing your forehead. You fix Sylus with a scowl.

He smirks, leaning back in an easy slouch against your chair after flicking you, arms crossed over a virile chest. “That isn’t what I meant, and you know it, sweetie.”

The term of endearment rolls so effortlessly off his tongue. You forget how much your forehead smarts, your petty greed for revenge. He’s called you his ‘sweetie,’ or some variation of it, for as long as you can recall, rarely addressing you by your given name.

You sit up in your seat, clasping the steadily cooling mug between your hands. Drum your fingers against the crisp ceramic as a quiet smile rounds your lips, and you chuckle, fondness blooming like lotus petals in your chest. You decide you quite like this side of him, his usual cockiness traded for something fragile, childlike.

Just when you’ve decided to forgive him and reveal that those pants he’s wearing are yours, Sylus has to open his big, stupid mouth. And suddenly, you don’t feel so bad for giving him the piss.

“You don’t peg me as one for bestiality, so I doubt you’ve done anything with the animals on this island. Unless—”

The rain. When the fuck was it going to stop raining?

—

You’re not entirely sure what leads to it—your breasts, warm and soft beneath the might of his chest, your breaths intermingling as you study each other on your floor.

Perhaps it began whilst seated on your couch, your thighs occasionally touching as you listened to the rainfall, filling the hushed space with idle quips and chatter. Or maybe it started when Sylus draped an arm about the back of your sofa, unconsciously scooting closer, watching your lips form words so intensely. Could it have started when he grabbed your chin, canting your face towards his under the guise of swiping some lint from your cheek?

Or could it have been something long-forming? Something bubbling like sea foam between you, building over the span of six months spent in each other’s company. Playing this silly game of keep-away, like your feelings for each other weren’t branded into your wrists for all the island to see.

Who knows.

You haven’t much time to dwell on the source because his mouth is panning in. Petal pink and soft, dark lashes bowing over peach-tinged cheeks. And you’re quietly awaiting the union of your mouths. Polite as your eyelids shutter, your palms gently perched on his traps.

He’s kissing you before you know what’s about. Lips a tender yet insistent pressure against yours, sending your heart soaring into the stratosphere. His soft groan vibrates your lips, furls in your chest, your veins pumping liquid fire. You draw away from each other carefully, and your bleary eyes crack open, ingesting the sight of scarlet irises smoldering like liquid spilled over hot coals.

He sifts through your gaze, wordlessly asking to kiss you again. You don’t deter him, lifting your head to meet him halfway, guided by your arms slowly snaking about his neck. He kisses you again, full-bodied and assured this time, chest deflating as he presses more into you. His lips part, a sweltering tongue easing out, seeking out the slippery glide of yours. When you return his attention, he groans something bitten-off, the sound of it reminiscent of thunder churning in the horizon.

You lose yourself to the feel of him, to the pressure of his lips and his hips notching between your splayed-open legs. He’s heavy, mooring you to the floor with half his weight settled on his elbow beside you. You don’t complain, feeling so very safe, your fingers gliding between the warm, silken strands of his hair.

The kiss grows more feverish as the seconds pass. And you’re distracted from the devastatingly possessive slant of his mouth when his fingers creep like spindly spider limbs over your body, pushing up your shirt until the supple skin of your side skates beneath his fingertips.

He breaks away with a sticky click. Lips distended, curving into a smile. Affection colors his countenance, a side of him you’ve rarely witnessed, and the sight of it siphons the air from your lungs.

“We can stop,” he murmurs, voice gritty like sand caught between your teeth. “We can stop if you’d like to.”

“Never,” you breathe, snatching him into another lip-lock.

He laughs into your greedy little mouth, murmuring between each sticky grind of your lips. “Are you sure—” Kiss. “—your ex-boyfriend—” Kiss. “—won’t mind?”

You fix him with a deadpan look at his callback to your baggy clothes, to which he smiles, fragile and unguarded, and you feel it pulling in your chest.

Silence stretches between you, pulled taut like a bowstring, whilst you scrutinize each other’s faces. The atmosphere grows heavy with yearning and something more nestled in between. Something like love. For a moment, nothing but the distant rain and the violent pulsing of your heartbeats fill the space. Your lips quiver. His eyes fall to your mouth.

Sylus takes your wordless cue, sneaking his arms beneath your waist to draw you closer, and you’re giggling like an enamored adolescent as he hauls you up with him, your ankles intuitively crossing at the divot of his back. He carries you through your home, toeing your bedroom door open before laying you amongst the crisp, doughy comforter of your bed.

He leaves you breathless and starstruck as you sit up on your elbows, watching the focal point of your affections sluggishly pull the string of his sweats free. He observes you with a mischievous glaze to his eyes, chin tilted up, bottom lip caught between his teeth as the muted glow of your bedroom outlines the rigid contours of his body.

He moves tortuously slow, tugging the waistband of his—your—pants southward, the neat beginnings of a silver trail catching your sight. He maintains some modicum of modesty, his girth prominent yet concealed by the loose hug of his briefs once he’s divested himself of your sweats.

Your mouth hangs open, throat dry. Something warm spills into your belly, puddling in the apex of your thighs. Your gaze flits back to his, and he moves like a soundless beast through the haze, pushing you back against your mattress with a kiss, your legs instinctively parting to make room for him.

He’s blistering your neck with kisses now, eliciting the cutest little sounds from your throat. Nipping, licking, claiming his way down, concluding his mouth’s excursion at your collarbones. Your fingers rove over the tight cords of muscle in his back. And you sigh, hot and wanton, shutting your eyes with your head thrown back when he bites down, sure to leave pretty splotches of purple flowering on your skin come morning. A marking, a branding, a claim on the off chance that there really is someone else.

His desire prods the inner cut of your thigh. You burn hot as your hips conduct a shy rhythm of their own accord, undulating off the bed to grind against him. Sylus hisses something sharp, sticky. Exhales all slow like he’s trying to rein himself in. Palms, broad and possessive, mold around your waist, anchoring you down, halting its tantalizing dance.

You whine petulantly, meeting the molten wash of his gaze.

“Are you sure this is what you want,” he whispers, open-mouthed against the column of your throat. The fragility of his tone makes your heart pinch. “Are you sure I’m what you want?”

You nod vigorously, biting your lip. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted anything more. You’ve often craved this closeness—this level of intimacy with him. You were too afraid to act on your sentiments in case he didn’t reciprocate them. Would rather waste your days quietly pining for him at his side instead of running him off with your feelings.

“Your words, sweetheart,” he murmurs, mouth hovering over yours. “Use them.”

“Yes. Yes, I want this, and you. I want you.”

The words flee from betwixt your lips without nary a thought. And the muggy air of your bedroom shifts again, something of danger tinging it. His lips crook with a smirk. He sits back on his haunches, heavy hands scrubbing down your quads, over your knees and shins to close around your ankles.

“In that case, sweetling, we should get you out of these clothes.”

You move so comically fast, tearing your shirt from your shoulders, shimmying out of your bottoms and underwear to kick them off. Sylus can’t help but laugh, and heat branches into your neck. He swoops in to capture a pebbled nipple between his lips, corking whatever words of protest you planned in your throat.

You bow into him on an exhale, fingers sifting through his hair as a pleasant pressure curdles between your thighs. His gaze never relinquishes yours, and having him watch you so intensely makes you throb. It’s as if he’s already attuned to your body, a devilish hand easing down the ripples of your rib cage, past your navel, to cup the radiant heat of your muff.

He groans when he feels you. Sweltering and slick, dribbling into his palm. Two fingers curl inward, stroking through your folds in search of the pucker of your cunt. When he finds it, he teases its sticky perimeter, the tips of his fingers easing in and out with an obscene schlick. He moves to pay similar homage to your other nipple with his mouth, and the sensation of it on you, coupled with the slow press of his fingers and his thumb meticulously circling your clit, drives you to the brink of insanity.

“Sylus, please, just—fuck.”

“Mm?” he hums, sluggish tongue swirling about your nipple in his mouth.

You clench around him, trying vainly to trap his digits within the warm clench of your cunt. You whine when he draws his hand back, your slick painting your inner thigh like a gooey, translucent brush stroke. He’s going to make you beg—you just know it.

Swallowing your pride, your inhibitions, your bashfulness, you grab a fistful of his hair, and he shudders, releasing your nipple with a lew pop, all bleary-eyed and panting.

“Too much?” he exhales, his countenance awash with sleepy desire.

“More. I need more,” you relent, acutely aware of how tightly you’ve gripped his locks. You quickly release him, feeling bad for pulling to the point of pain. “Sorry.”

“You’re fine, sweetheart,” Sylus soothes, taking your hand and guiding it back to the delicate hairs at his nape. “I quite like this side of you. So beautiful when you beg. When you use me like this. Can’t get enough of it.”

His lashes shutter as he kisses down your stomach, agonizingly slow, mouth hovering dangerously close to where you radiate heat. He kisses each inner wind of your thigh. Noses the bulge of your clit, sending pleasant shockwaves rippling throughout your body.

“Here?” A kiss where outer labia meets thigh. “You want me here, sweetheart?” Another to the other side, the warm musk of your sex causing his eyes to dip into a mysterious shade of garnet.

You nod drunkenly, your fingers twitching in his hair.

“Words.” Sylus teases your cunt with a flattened tongue, drawing it back into his mouth when you’ve barely registered the sensation.

“Yes, fuck. Right there. Right there.”

He wastes no time licking you open thereafter, his long fingers splitting your cunt wide in an upside-down V. He groans with each swipe of his tongue as if thanking you for the meal. The gratified rumble of his voice, accompanied by the skilled flit of his tongue, pushes you closer toward that slurry edge. Closer to that blissful void where the world falls away, leaving you tenuous and weightless.

“Come for me, sweetling,” he urges against your cunt, employing his fingers to help get you there. They curl and twist and piston, the coiling sensation brewing in your stomach, slowly unwinding. And with a final nudge to your clit with his tongue, the world opens up and swallows you whole, making way for a blissful white, your tendons shaking, lips quivering around the vowels of his name.

He strokes you through your orgasm. Kisses and licks until the stimulation borders pain, and you pull on his hair, quietly urging him to stop. He reluctantly draws away from your sex, towering over you, chin shining with your nectar in the gray hue of the light filtering in through your curtains.

Your chest heaves as you greedily suck in oxygen. He strokes soothingly over your skin, watching you with all the fondness of the world. Pinches one of your nipples, and you wince, the aftershocks of your orgasm dragging over you like waves licking the shore.

When you’ve fully sunk back into your skin, you’re reminded of how painfully hard he is, his girth pressing against your thigh, a dark patch of pre-spend staining the slit of his briefs.

You sit up quickly, eager to please. Eager to reciprocate, fingers hooking beneath the elastic band, tugging down, and your mouth waters with the prospect of being wrapped around him. Of ingesting the briny edge of his pre-cum, sucking him sweetly into your mouth. But he stills you with a hand clasped around your wrist, a laugh dredged from his chest as if he’s perused the catalog of your thoughts.

“Later, sweetheart,” he teases, splaying your fingers over his chest, where his heart beats a wild cadence just for you. He holds your gaze, scarlet irises brimming with tenderness. “For now, I want to ensure you truly desire this.”

He’s fucked you within an inch of your life on his tongue, on his fingers, and still, he seeks reassurance as if your mind will change with a sudden bout of whiplash.

His mouth hinges open with the effort of breathing as your fingers ghost along the taut stretch of skin between his pectorals. Your hand eases down, wrist still ensnared by his pleasantly warm fingers, yet he doesn’t stop you this time when it dips into the slit of his underwear. He watches you as you tug him free, his turgid length slapping against his abdominals, a pretty, pearlescent strand of pre-spend catching in the low light, oozing from the tip, honey-slow.

Saliva puddles in your mouth at the sight of him. Red, swollen, and pulsing, and you guide your hand to the base of him, evoking a stifled sound and a shiver from his person when your fingers swallow him at the hilt.

“I want you, Sylus,” you assure with all the conviction of the world. And you stroke him so good, his length hot and sturdy in your palm, twitching with each possessive tug. You’re enamored by the hoarse noises you evoke, each sound seemingly pinched from his lungs as if he fears pleasure. As if he’s never received it.

Wordlessly, you lean back into your bed, guiding him against your slit. You coat his tip with your slick, sucking your lip between your teeth, watching him with lust-laden eyes as his carefully-constructed composure starts to crumble.

“You feel so good here, Sylus,” you laud, shocked by the low gravel of your own voice. How you mustered the courage to praise him, to tease him like this, your breaths collectively catching when the tip prods your opening. “So, so good. Need you…here.”

“Careful, sweetheart,” he bites off, catching himself on his palms, roosted on either side of your torso. Pressing his hips against you, testing the swollen barrier of your cunt. “If you keep talking to me like that, you might start something you won’t be able to finish.”

Your eyes shine with mirth, contrasting the terribly distracting thing you’re doing with your hand—with your pretty, sticky cunt. “Try me.”

Sylus snorts, swatting your hand away. You watch with bated breath as he tugs his briefs down, kicking them off to join your clothes on the floor. He anchors you to the bed with the welcomed weight of his body, his cock dragging through your folds, saturating the shaft with your slick. “Shall I go shake a tree for a condom before we get started?”

You blanch, whacking him on the chest. And he laughs something hearty, throaty, full-blooded, apologizing with a kiss as he feeds his cock into you, pushing into the tight webbing of your cunt. You share an exhale. Exchange a look with your foreheads pressed together, his eyes searching for any signs of discomfort as he strokes into you, easing his way home.

You find he’s massive in more than just stature. And you feel so very full. So complete, shaky breaths in, ankles instinctively locking around his waist.

Once he’s fully slid home, hips rucked up against your pubic mound, he stills, mercifully granting you time to adjust. There’s a crease to his brows. A downward twitch to his lips as he scrutinizes you. You lure his mouth to yours to kiss away his concern, clenching around him once you’ve settled, signaling for him to move.

You swallow each other’s groans as he fucks into you. Steady strokes at first, tempering the pace. Always such a gentleman, putting your needs first, his desires pushed to the back burner. He’s selfless in everything he does. You’ve already had your fill, the tang of your sex still emblazoned on his tongue as he pushes it into your mouth, and your hips surge off the bed, meeting him stroke for delicious stroke.

He tears away from your mouth, straightening. Looms over you like something beastly, one hand clasped around your ankle, holding you nice and open for him whilst the other eases between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit with laser precision.

His weighted balls knock against the cleft of your ass as he quickens the pace, twitching inside you, panting. Reveling in the love-drunk look on your face, how your mouth hangs open, words left unbidden on your tongue.

“Feels so nice,” he breathes betwixt each knock of his hips. “Never wanna stop. Taking me so well.”

Your hand slides down to press against his stomach, and you crane your neck to watch the union of your bodies. You feel like you’re in a dream, still in disbelief of what’s transpiring. This stranger who had dismantled the barrier you erected around your heart and pilfered it, rocking into you, the headboard cracking against the wall, chorusing with the thunder rolling over the horizon outside.

That sparkling sensation builds again. Creeping like ivy through a lattice fence. You throw your head back, shutting your eyes. His fingers slip between the interstices of yours, pinning your hands to the bed as he fucks you, driven purely by instinct. By the sensation of you quaking around him, greedily sucking him in, never wanting to let go.

With one final snap of his hips, he comes undone, painting the gummy mesh of your cunt a sticky white, cum oozing down your inner thighs to stain the sheets below. He continues thumbing your clit as he pants, inching you off that plinth with him.

“Another, sweetheart. Just like that. Give me one more,” he dotes, still buried deep inside you. You clench your teeth, rocking your hips in time with the swipe of his thumb. “Give it to me.” Your walls finally shudder around him, phosphenes dancing behind your lids, the world full of static and floating around you.

You come undone for the second time that afternoon, this one lazier than the last, but still all-consuming. He falls against you, your bodies coated in a fine sheen of dewy sweat as you laugh. And you squeeze him in an embrace, ignoring how he crushes the air from your lungs with his weight. You could die happy like this, your affections reciprocated, desire sated.

He unsheathes himself from the hot suction of your cunt once your breaths have evened out. You groan from the extraction, feeling so lonely and empty when he disappears from your bedroom. But he returns shortly after, gently cleaning up the remnants of your lovemaking with a towel, chuckling now and again when you tease him with one of your terrible jokes.

The remainder of your day is spent swathed in his embrace, your hips notched up against his groin, until sleep claims him. His steady breaths tickle the sensitive skin behind your ear. With a smile rounding your lips, you watch the rain fall through the gauzy sweep of your curtains, lulled into a sleepy haze by its gentle symphony, by thunder stretching across the skyline, yawning like a sated cat.

You might not have caught the butterfly you’ve been hunting all week. But you’ve captured something much more appealing in its stead, you think, twisting in Sylus’ arms to admire him, gathering his cheeks in your palms, easing your thumbs over the tender swell of his lips.

You watch his lashes dance with sleep, stroking the divot between his brows away with the pad of your thumb. You pan in to kiss him, something chaste and adoring, and his lips twitch upward against yours. He pulls you tighter against him, murmuring something incoherent before burying his chin into the hollow of your shoulder, a content sigh pushing through his nostrils.

#sylus x non mc reader #sylus x reader #sylus x you #sylus smut #sylus fic #sylus imagine #animal crossing au #sylus x female reader #love and deepspace sylus #sylus #sylus qin #sylus x non!mc reader

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bbyjackie · 2 years ago

Text

𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝐀𝐂𝐄'𝐒 𝐆𝐅 — ♡

one piece social media + dating feat: ace

♡ liked by p1rateking_luffy, marco_o and 7.3k others

_ynln: he's 20 and still manages to burn everything in sight <3

tagged: ace

chef.thatch: All my hard work down the drain

↳ marco_o: wait is this why the deck floorboard is scorched

↳ _ynln: ACE DID IT

↳ _ynln: he fell asleep while we were singing happy birthday 😭😭

↳ ace: WOWWW YN YOU'RE SUCH A SNITCH

↳ marco_o: oh my god

iampops: How do I add a caption on Instagram posts

↳ p1rateking_luffy: HAPQPY BIRTHDYA ACE! (liked by ace, _ynln)

↳ ace: thanks luffy!

♡ liked by iampops, izou.u and 5.4k others

_ynln: worth it ❕❕

tagged: ace

marco_o: oh my god this is why we don't trust you guys unsupervised

↳ _ynln: i know u love us (liked by ace)

↳ marco_o: you guys make me want to throw myself off board

↳ marco_o: im losing hair cause of you two

↳ ace: like you had much to begin with LMFOAOO 💀💀

↳ _ynln: 🤣🤣

↳ marco_o: im letting both of u die

izou.u: are you guys the reason why the bathroom looks like shit

↳ ace: it's yn's fault ☝️

↳ _ynln: WTF HOW IS THIS MY FAULT

↳ _ynln: YOU'RE THE ONE THAT SAID 'wHaT iF wE jUmPEd?' AND THEN CANONBALLED

↳ ace: LMFAOOAOO IT WAS SO FUNNY 🤣

iampops: Sons tell me how to add a caption on Instagram posts

chef.thatch: I lose braincells whenever I am near these idiots (liked by _ynln)

♡ liked by ace, saaaa_bo and 4.9k others

_ynln: if he isn't dreaming about me, im going to sell him to the marines 😪😪

tagged: ace

izou.u: is he even breathing in the second photo

↳ marco_o: i hope not

ace: whaattt of course i was dreaming about you my pookie dookie sugar bear cupcake frappe 😜😍🥰😘🤩❤️‍🔥💕💞💖

↳ saaaa_bo: ew

↳ saaaa_bo: kudos to yn for taking one for the team and dating u

↳ _ynln: i can already hear my 550,000,000 berries from here

↳ _ynln: @saaa_bo FRRR YOU'RE THE ONLY ONE THAT HAS MY BACK ☝️☝️

iampops: Sons I've been asking for a week. How do I add a caption on Instagram posts?

♡ liked by theroronoa.zoro, p1rateking_luffy and 9.2k others

ace: my favourite girl ❣️❣️

marco is my favourite of all time

tagged: _ynln

_ynln: everyone don't be fooled, he tackled me into the ocean straight after this 😐😐

↳ ace: my mum told me to chase my dreams, not my fault my dream tried to run away 🥱

↳ _ynln: YOU STARTED SPRINTING AT ME WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO

↳ ace: start sprinting towards me at the same time 🤩🤩

lovenami: omg @_ynln you ate in this photo

↳ _ynln: NAMI OMG ILY 💞💞

p1rateking_luffy: HEHE MY FUTURE SISTER IN LAW

↳ ace: bet

↳ _ynln: wait what

↳ iampops: yn how do I add a caption on Instagram posts?

↳ _ynln: pops omg you're showing your age rn

marco_o: jesus christ delete the second part of that caption

↳ ace: stop being shy 😚😚

yamatototo: yn needs to be saved 💀💀 (liked by _ynln)

_ynln 36m

[_ynln] ace replied to your story: marco said it was payback for destroying the bathroom, you're next 🤷

#one piece #one piece headcanons #one piece x reader #one piece smau #one piece imagine #luffy x reader #smau #one piece x you #one piece fluff #one piece scenario #ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #ace headcanons #sabo x reader #ace x yn #marco x reader #thatch x reader #izou x reader

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kissforyouu · 1 year ago

Note

Heyo ^^ could i request bf jungkook that won’t stop squeezing and slapping his gf’s butt >~< and today’s my bday 🎉

your boyfriend won't stop touching you !

pairing : jungkook x reader

genre : established relationship , fluff , touching

warnings : basically the entire ask 💁🏽‍♀️ , perverted jk , this is rlly rlly short 😭

a/n : HEYY happy birthdayyy :) hope u like it! sorry if i posted this kinda late🥲

unedited.

ting! ting!

you rise up from your chair, giddily walking in your kitchen to take out the new batch of muffins you had just made.

you put on your oven gloves, taking a small glance at your fully baked muffins still in the oven. you bend forward, pulling the oven door down to grab the hot tray. taking hold of the tray, you pull it out of the scorching hot oven—

slap!

"what the fuck, kook?" groaning, you turn your head around to look at your boyfriend who had his hand on your ass cheek.

"i almost dropped the tray. watch what you're doing." you glare.

jungkook's lips form a pout, but continuing to rub your ass cheek.

you huff, turning around and settling the tray on your kitchen counter. jungkook stands behind you, maintaining a close proximity.

you carefully pull out the cupcakes from the tray, placing them on a plate. you grab the pink icing you had made earlier, beginning to frost. meanwhile, jungkook had his chin resting on your collarbone while his hands fondled with your ass.

mm, you didn't mind. in fact, you push your cupcakes and icing a bit farther, then leaning forward to lay your upper body on the counter and give your full weight to it. next thing, you stick your ass out, giving jungkook room to do whatever.

a sound of satisfaction leaves him, hands immediately flying to palm both your cheeks. jungkook rubs his left hand on your hip meanwhile the other presses his thumb hard onto your cheek.

his fingers caress the inside of your right thigh while the other hand wraps around your waist, his body leaning into yours, crotch tightly pressed against your ass and his chin on your shoulder. jungkook also squeezes your thigh, nails digging hard onto your flesh really hard.

"ow, kook! that hurts!" you try to wiggle yourself out of his grip. but too bad, your boyfriend is too strong.

"i know you secretly like it." he mumbles, patting the now probably reddened area a few times, then rubbing it and scratching it with his nails.

"you're so annoying, baby." is all you say before you finally free yourself from the strong man's grip. grabbing onto the now iced cupcakes, you happily walk to your living room that's right in front of the kitchen.

sneakily, but not so discretely, jungkook manages to deliver a hard slap onto your right cheek. you jolt up, glaring at him as you sit on the sofa, settling the cupcakes on the coffee table. jungkook takes his usual seat next to you then leaning forward to grab one of your cupcakes.

"pretty." he murmurs at the cupcake, then shoving the entire cupcake in his mouth. you giggle, leaning in to wipe some of the icing off his lip.

"you're so messy." you lightly tap his lips, "see! here too!" you wipe the icing off his cheek, then putting your icing covered finger in your mouth.

"messy, huh?" jungkook smirks, "you're one to talk." he cockily smirks.

fuck him. you look away, embarrassed, knowing exactly what he's referring to.

you grab the remote to switch on netflix and play some random show. you look at jungkook, who's munching on your cupcakes, as you slowly crawl your way upto his lip. your head was on his lap, lips formed to a pout as you just let yourself relax to jungkook's caresses on your head.

he strokes your hair, massaging your scalp while rambling about some story at work. you listen to him in awe, unaware of the hand that's creeping it's way towards your ass.

realisation hits you the moment you feel his hand separate your asscheeks through your booty shorts, hand dipping in between to cup your clothed core.

"kook! you're a freak!" you shout, slapping his thigh to get his attention. your boyfriend fake moans instead, giggling in between as he leans in to give you a few kisses.

"mhm, of course, baby."

you roll your eyes, turning your upper body to the side so that you'd be facing the television. jungkook leans forward to cuddle his upper body and your body, head resting on your arm. he'd plant small kisses on your arm in between the show.

he just loves you so much. your personality, face, body. the way you talk, laugh, smile, cry, yell. jungkook was in love. and utterly obsessed with you. and your ass.

you feel his pointer finger and ring finger sneakily hook under your shorts to pull it up, pressing the material tightly against your core and making your ass bare. you moan at the small friction on your clit.

you could quite literally feel your boyfriend's silly smirk. you just wanted to rip it off of him. but he's so right. you loved it when he touched you.

the rest of the evening was spent with the both of you cuddling on the sofa while watching TV (and jungkook's hand constantly squeezing your ass)

#jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #smut #bts #bts jk #bts smut #bts fluff #fluff #jungkook fluff #boyfriend

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phosph-ate · 3 months ago

Note

YEAH EXACTLY!!! Phosphorus is confused. Like, what do you mean we aren't dating I asked you out, (he willingly paired with them during a mission, that's his "but I asked you out"), Rick? He sees the readers face. He has no fucking shot, it's so obvious

Y/N? Y/N is telling people to cover their eyes if they don't want to see what happens next

And then they tackle him on the ground and start to kiss up a storm on his face. It's like a switch was flipped the second he made it clear he likes them back

Ajhshs maybe they just straight up confess but he's just a dick about it 😭

"Oh, Alex, I love you!"

"Woah hey, moving a little fast are we?" He means it as a joke but. They just look so so upset 😭 he has to pull then so where private and reassure that yes, he loves them, he was just being an asshole

Little nsfw below ⤵️

"Do you promise?"

"I promise, cupcake."

"...Alex."

"Hm?"

"I've basically been abstinent since I was thrown in jail."

"Oh... oh~"

Rick better leave if he doesn't want to hear what happens next lmao 😭

If Y/N is fire/radiation proof... Yeah that entire room is on fire by the time they're done. If not, obviously he's way more careful but there are some... suspiciously placed, hand shaped scorch marks on the walls

I'm seeing the vision and I'm loving it. ANON I LOVE YOU!!

nsfw under the cut! nothing to nasty but still!!

Rick is in his room sulking and looking at a photo of you like that one wolverine meme SDBUFSDF

NOT THE ROOM BEING ON FIRE. omg if you are immune to fire/radiation holy shit you are in for it. either way you're getting something, but if you can handle ALL of it?? GOOD LUCK.

And now the vision of him fucking struggling so hard to control himself and burning the wall is burnt into my brain... just like his handprints on the walls...

Totally true and canon (i know from experience) Alex is definitely a whimperer, and he totally moans. i have soooo many thoughts about him and i need him ways that are yet to be discovered it's so concerning :)

#dr phosphorus #dr phosphorus x reader #creature commandos x reader

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santaasi · 10 months ago

Text

hate to be lame

pairing: fwb!jj maybank x fem!reader

summary: you hate to admit it but you might love jj maybank

warnings: fluff, (small) angst, allusion to sex, no use of y/n, pet names (cupcake, doll), english isn’t my first language

word count: 4.3k

a/n: inspired by hate to be lame - lizzie mcalpine, fineas

YOU DIDN'T REMEMBER THE MOMENT WHEN EVERYTHING CHANGED. When the stars collided so that for the first time you felt this swarm of butterflies in your stomach at the very sight of him looking at you. Or when the hookups after parties stopped being just sex and became something more. Something more for you.

JJ Maybank had always captivated your attention. Like everyone on the island, you couldn't help but notice that despite being the arrogant pain in every Kook's ass, JJ was sculpted like an Apollo. His tall, broad-shouldered frame was the result of daily labor for the wealthy residents of Figure 8, including you and your family. His eternally tousled dirty blond hair and those eyes... those mesmerizing eyes that reflected the beauty of North Carolina's sandy coast and salty sea. Adding to his allure was his reputation as a "troubled bad boy," a role that made him irresistible to all the girls on the island. No matter how much you wished to resist, you were no exception. His presence was magnetic, a blend of raw strength and rugged charm that drew you in despite your better judgment.

JJ Maybank wasn't just a distraction; he was a force of nature. His very existence seemed to challenge the orderly world you were accustomed to, tempting you with the promise of adventure and rebellion. The way he carried himself, with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, only heightened his appeal. He was everything you were supposed to avoid, yet everything you secretly desired.In those stolen glances and fleeting moments, you felt a connection that transcended mere attraction. It was as if his wild spirit called out to the hidden desires within you, urging you to break free from the confines of your polished life. And despite the consequences, despite the warnings, you knew deep down that resisting JJ Maybank was a battle you were destined to lose.

Resisting the allure of the Pogue boy required keeping your distance, avoiding any encounters, and only observing from afar how at each new party, he would make out with yet another girl. These girls, whom you secretly envied, seemed to effortlessly capture his attention. And it wasn't love or sympathy for the guy that drove you, no. It was the allure of the forbidden fruit that everyone spoke of with such sweetness that captivated you. You longed to savor its essence, if only for a fleeting moment, before moving on with your life. But there's wisdom in the saying, "be careful what you wish for," because the moment JJ Maybank became the new lawn boy in your house and when a week later he found his way into your silk sheets, you understood. JJ Maybank wasn't just a temptation; he was an addiction.

Sex with him was like scenes from an old romantic movie: tender, sensual, and passionately intense. JJ Maybank was not just focused on his own pleasure; he made it his mission to make you feel like a queen. He would lift you to the ninth cloud, then gently lower you back to earth, leaving you yearning for him again and again until you were utterly spent.

After the bliss of being in bed, he would carry that enchantment into the shower. With hands roughened by hard work, he would glide over your body, applying expensive shower gel with a touch that was both firm and tender, rinsing it off with hot water. His fingers would move through your hair, massaging your scalp as he applied shampoo and followed it with a series of hair care steps that he found frivolous but performed with care just for you. His lips would leave delicate kisses on your cheeks, shoulders, collarbone, fingers—anywhere he could reach, while his hot breath scorched your skin as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

Afterward, he would wrap your towel-dried body in one of his T-shirts, the ones you kept in your closet and slept in every night, inhaling the scent of the sea that clung to them. Then he would lift you in his arms, carry you to your huge bed, and lie down beside you, holding you close.

These moments were more than physical pleasure; they were a symphony of sensations that transcended mere touch. JJ's rough, hard working hands moved with surprising gentleness, as if cherishing every inch of your skin. His presence was overwhelming yet comforting, a paradox that left you helplessly drawn to him. Each touch, each kiss, each whisper was a promise of more—more passion, more tenderness, more of the addictive connection that bound you to him. In his embrace, time seemed to stand still. The world outside ceased to exist, and all that mattered was the two of you, lost in a private universe of bliss and desire. JJ Maybank wasn't just a lover; he was an experience, a force that transformed every moment with him into something magical. As you lay there, wrapped in his arms, you knew that this was a feeling you would never tire of, a craving that would forever haunt your dreams.

Perhaps it was this tender and sensualness on his part, which you had never met before, that made your little heart beat more often in your chest. Or maybe it was all those little moments and conversations in between, all those stupid jokes that made you laugh until your stomach hurt, and all those "accidental" touches after which your body forgot how to breathe.

Maybe it was all this, or perhaps everything in between, but none of it mattered in the end. The bottom line remained the same: despite everything, you fell in love with JJ Maybank, and it seemed like your biggest mistake. He wasn't interested in relationships. To him, a relationship meant the end of freedom and happiness. And you were a Kook—a Kook he despised and hated. People like you always made him do their dirty work, just like your parents did, and it was because of them that he often found himself at the precinct. All these factors combined left no chance of moving from the category of friends with benefits to something more.

You wanted to believe that the smoldering looks you caught from him at parties, the casual touches, and the late-night conversations on your rooftop meant as much to him as they did to you. But you weren't naive enough to think your relationship was special when he spent his life changing girls like gloves. So, you buried your feelings deep inside and accepted the reality you lived in, where JJ Maybank was just your fling.

You couldn't help but replay the moments when his gaze lingered a little too long, or when his touch seemed to convey more than just physical desire. Each encounter was a blend of ecstasy and heartbreak, knowing that while he held you close, he was never truly yours. The connection you felt was undeniable, but the barriers between you were just as real. He was a wild spirit, untamed and unbound, while you were part of the world that tried to cage him. Despite this, you cherished every moment spent with him. The laughter, the shared secrets, the way he made you feel alive in a way no one else could. The intensity of his presence was intoxicating, making it impossible to stay away even when you knew it was for the best. JJ was an addiction, a beautiful, dangerous addiction that you couldn't quit.

And so, you continued to live in this bittersweet limbo, hiding your love behind a facade of casual encounters. Every time he left, a part of you broke a little more, but you told yourself it was enough. Enough to have him in any capacity, enough to experience the fleeting moments of closeness. Because despite the pain, despite the heartache, loving JJ Maybank was the most real thing you had ever felt.

“You're too quiet today, doll,” JJ's hoarse voice rang out in your ear, making goosebumps run all over your body. You didn't say anything, snuggling closer to his bare chest, filling the quiet room with the rustle of sheets. His skin was still covered with beads of sweat after sex, and you were breathing in his musky scent, which was intoxicating your mind. You never thought that the smell of someone's sweat would attract you so much.

“What happened?” you seemed to catch a hint of concern in his voice, but immediately pushed it away from you. JJ just loved to chat. That's all. He's only interested in your body.

“Nothing,” you muttered listlessly in the area of his neck, leaving a soft kiss behind his ear. “It's just a hard day”

"Ah, I see. Shopping and maxing out daddy's credit card must be exhausting," JJ joked, his chest shaking with laughter. You frowned, burying your face in his neck.

You hated moments like this—moments when the perfect bubble of isolation, where you were just yourself and he was just JJ Maybank, would burst, making you feel the social gap between you. Making you feel small and unworthy of him because of the money that had surrounded you since childhood. JJ wasn't trying to offend you with such jokes, but they still stung, reminding you that he wasn't the man for you.

The silence that followed was heavy, and JJ's laughter died down as quickly as it had started. Even without looking at him, you could imagine the wrinkle forming between his eyebrows, and his hand squeezing your thigh a little harder under the blanket.

"I'm serious, what's wrong?" His voice carried a hint of urgency now, his concern palpable. Yet faced with the familiar wall of silence, JJ gently lifted your chin with his free hand, compelling you to meet his gaze. You grumbled in protest, but reluctantly raised your head, locking eyes with his deep blue gaze.

"What's troubling you, cupcake?" His gaze swept over your face, noting the tension in your compressed lips, the furrowed brows, and the careful scrutiny in your eyes. JJ genuinely seemed worried.

You took a ragged breath, parting your lips as if ready to unload the burdens that had weighed on your soul for months, to confess the feelings that had consumed you. But as you looked into his eyes, knowing they had probably held the same look just nights ago with another girl wrapped in sheets, you shook your head and sought solace in his lips instead.

This kiss was different. It was tender and sensual, lacking the usual passion and urgency. His lips moved languidly against yours, synchronized in a gentle dance. With each touch of lips and intertwining of tongues, your heartbeat seemed to echo emotions too complex to name. You wanted desperately to believe this was what true love's kiss felt like, but deep down, you knew there was no love in your relationship.

JJ held you close after the kiss, his arms providing a temporary sanctuary from the uncertainties gnawing at your heart. His touch was comforting, his presence a balm against the turmoil within you. Yet, even in his embrace, the unspoken truths lingered, casting shadows on the fragile intimacy you shared.

JJ gently laid you back, his weight hovering over you as he broke the kiss, his concern evident in the furrow of his brow. His gaze slid over your face, catching the puppy-dog look you had been giving him for months. Slowly, his hand moved to your cheek, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear before tracing gentle patterns on your flushed skin with his knuckles. The touch ignited a cascade of emotions within you. You were almost certain he knew about your feelings, that his every touch was a deliberate play to elicit a response from you.

You didn't want to believe JJ could be that callous, not after spending the last seven months with him. Yet, a nagging voice whispered that you were just one among many lovesick admirers in his life—a mere grain of sand on his beach of girlfriends.

"You know I'm going to get an answer from you, doll," JJ murmured, planting a tender kiss on your cheek. "So you'd better tell me what's been weighing on you."

He rubbed his nose against yours, and you closed your eyes, a soft smile spreading across your face. Your hands, resting calmly around his neck, threaded through the regrown strands of his hair. These quiet, affectionate moments with JJ felt like sanctuary, where he seemed to be the only person in your entire world. In these fleeting instances, the words you longed to speak hovered on the tip of your tongue. Yet, time and again, you held yourself back...

"Have you ever... fallen in love?" you asked in a half-whisper, feeling your heart skip a beat.

JJ's brow furrowed again, but then he chuckled and reclined onto his side of the bed. His hand ran through his tousled hair, momentarily captivating you as you lost yourself in the sound of his infectious laughter and the sight of his radiant smile. For that fleeting moment, all else faded away. But as reality crashed back, you bit your lip, struggling to hold back the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. You turned your gaze towards the ceiling, chastising yourself silently. How could you have asked such a foolish question? Why did it escape your lips at all? Fool, fool, fool!

Sensing your shift in mood, JJ's expression softened into seriousness. He turned to face you, reaching out to intercept your hand resting on your stomach, gently intertwining his fingers with yours.

"Hey, hey, hey... I didn't mean to laugh, cupcake," JJ said with an encouraging smile. "You caught me off guard, that's all."

You both lay in silence for a while, his gaze lingering on your clasped hands, yours fixed on the ceiling. The moment hung between you, heavy with unspoken words and uncharted emotions. JJ's touch brought a sense of warmth and reassurance, yet beneath it all, you wrestled with the vulnerability of your question, unsure of what his response—or lack thereof—might mean for the fragile balance between you..

"Six months ago, I would have said no..." JJ's voice was slow and measured, his attention still fixed on your intertwined fingers. His thumb moved gently, tracing soothing circles over the knuckles of your hand. He cleared his throat before continuing, his words carrying a weight of uncertainty. "Now... now I would say everything is complicated."

You nodded slowly, letting out a sigh as your eyes drifted back to the white ceiling. In the dim light, you could still make out the faint glow of the small fluorescent stars that your parents had stuck up there when you were a kid, hoping they would keep the darkness at bay. It was love, you thought.

"It can't be complicated here... you're either in love with someone, or you're not... you either have something to say to them, but you stop yourself, or you have nothing to say..." you murmured, your gaze still fixed on the ceiling. You then turned your head to look at JJ. Only now did you notice that his eyes were completely on you, not on your hands.

"I read an article on the internet… Told me that that's how you know you're fallin' in love” you added softly, almost defensively. "Of course, don't really trust what's on the internet but maybe just this once..." Your voice trailed off as you searched his eyes, suddenly feeling exposed yet oddly liberated by your honesty. The intimacy of the moment hung between you like a fragile thread, woven with unspoken truths and the silent hopes of understanding. JJ's expression softened, his eyes reflecting a mix of curiosity and something deeper, something you couldn't quite decipher.

In that shared silence, amidst the gentle hum of thoughts and emotions swirling around you, you waited for his response, unsure of what it might unveil about the intricacies of your entangled hearts.

"Do you have somethin’ to tell me?" JJ interrupted you and you immediately focused your gaze on him, frowning again.

As you lay there, staring at the ceiling and grappling with the weight of your thoughts, a whirlwind of questions spun through your mind. Did JJ want to understand what was troubling you once more? Or was he subtly probing to see if you harbored feelings for him, based on that theory you had read about online? Did you love him? Did you need him? Did you want him? The uncertainty gnawed at you, and part of you wished you could affirm those feelings—if only to ensure he would stay.

He shifted closer, his touch gentle as he traced patterns on your hand, silently urging you to speak or find solace in his presence. His eyes, familiar and searching, conveyed a mix of concern and a readiness to listen—a testament to the bond you had forged in the months spent together. In that moment, as the weight of your inner turmoil pressed down, you found yourself yearning for clarity, for a resolution that would quiet the storm within. Yet, the answers remained elusive, and you feared the consequences of voicing what lay buried deep in your heart.

"Do you have somethin' to tell me, doll?" he asked his question again and looked at you seriously. His eyes darkened slightly (or so it seemed to you) they looked like the sea before a storm and you could only flutter your fluffy eyelashes in shock and look at him. JJ shook his head and smiled, squeezing your hand. “'cause I have something to tell you.”

JJ grinned, sitting up on the bed and leaning back against the padded headboard. His grip tightened around your hand, refusing to let go even as he struggled to light a cigarette. But JJ needed that connection, needed to feel your warmth as he prepared to voice something he had been holding back for too long.

With a flick of the lighter, he finally ignited the cigarette, exhaling a cloud of smoke as he gathered his thoughts. His eyes, intense and focused on you, held a mix of determination and vulnerability.

“It's always in the back of my mind,” JJ said after taking a couple of puffs and dropping the ashes into the ashtray on the bedside table. His gaze was fixed forward. To where there was a photograph in a gilded frame on the dresser. He couldn't see the photo itself in the dark, he could only make out the outlines, but a picture of the day when he first met you was already forming in his head.

Bonfire. Another Kook's party blazing on the beach, a scene where Pogues had no place. Yet, JJ found himself there, compelled to settle the last of his debt to Topper for the broken boat. Striding back to his bike, ready to leave it all behind, he glimpsed you sitting on the damp sand, clutching a bottle of whiskey. Your hair was tousled and damp, droplets cascading down its length onto the sand, while your white dress, now soaked, revealed glimpses of your underwear. You were a mess. But a breathtaking mess unlike any other.

Normally, JJ would have walked right past. What concern was it of his if a Shark girl was brooding over some triviality on the beach beside a party? Yet, when you turned to meet his gaze, moonlight casting a gentle glow on your tear-streaked face, makeup smudged from the remnants of sorrow, and he met the emptiness in your eyes, he couldn't ignore your pain.

Without hesitation, he sat down beside you, typing a quick message to John B. that he wouldn't be coming, and spent the remainder of the night with you. It began with conversation on the beach, the words flowing freely under the starlit sky. But soon, it evolved into something deeper—JJ's fingers tracing the delicate contours of your skin, his ear attuned to the soft, sweet moans that escaped your lips, melodies he quickly grew addicted to.

That night, for the first time, JJ wondered if his past mistakes had somehow led him to this moment with you. If he could rewind would there be some butterfly effect? What if they never met? What if the stars never aligned?

"I don't know what love is, doll," JJ broke the silence again, exhaling cigarette smoke. You disliked it when he smoked in your room, but his voice held you spellbound, his touch on your hand anchoring you in the moment.

"You know, my mom left us when I was just a little shit, and my dad... well, he wasn't exactly a role model for love," JJ said with a sad smile, shaking his head. He felt your gentle squeeze in response, giving him the courage to continue. "I love the Pogues. They're like family to me. I love John B., feels like he's been my brother forever, but it's not... it's not that kind of love." JJ took another drag before stubbing out his cigarette. "No one taught me how to love. I didn't have a good example in front of me... that's why I became like this. Always on the move, not stopping for any girl, a bit of a womanizer, you name it."

He glanced down at your intertwined fingers, the ashtray now holding the remnants of his momentary escape. "And then you came along and turned my world upside down." JJ attempted a laugh, but his voice caught, and he fell silent, grappling with his emotions.

You sat down beside him, clutching the blue sheet to your chest, studying his profile intently. You observed the subtle movements: the clenching and unclenching of his jaw, the expansion of his nostrils with each deep breath, the tight line of his lips. You understood that words were never easy for him, and a part of you wanted to spare him the discomfort, to halt his struggle. But another part of you yearned to understand what he was trying to express. You needed clarity to calm the fluttering in your chest, to ensure that your hopeful heart wasn't misinterpreting his words. You didn't want to live with false hope.

As you watched him wrestle with his thoughts, your own emotions mirrored his turmoil. The closeness between you felt fragile yet profound, each heartbeat echoing the unspoken desire for honesty and understanding. The silence between you held a weight that words alone could not convey, a tension that bridged the distance between your souls.

“Hate to be lame but...” the world around you froze. Everything stopped. The clock stopped running. You stopped breathing. “But I might love you”

And the world came alive again. The clock continued to run. But you still weren't breathing and you were silent. JJ was looking at you intently, studying your expression, and with every second of your silence, he was ready to bury himself underground and die of shame. JJ Maybank confessed his feelings to a girl for the first time and you just sat and remained silent, looking at him with your big soft eyes, flapping your fluffy eyelashes and it drove him crazy, making him think that he just made up all the feelings on your part. When the silence continued, the guy released your hand and ran his fingers through his hair, trying to somehow remove the tension.

"Okeeey… Fine… You don't have to answer anything, you don't have to accept my feelings... I understand everything and so I'll just leave and..." JJ's voice trembled nervously, his words rushing out in a jumble. He hastily retrieved his briefs from the floor, turning his back to you as if preparing to depart.

It was in that fleeting moment, just as he was poised to leave, that you seized his wrist and drew him back towards you, your lips meeting in a fervent kiss. Emotions surged through you like fireworks on Independence Day, leaving no room for second thoughts. You needed to affirm to yourself that this was real—that JJ Maybank had indeed confessed his love to you, and that reality surpassed any dream.

As you broke away, breathless and panting, JJ's hands found your waist, his touch gentle against your skin. "Is this a goodbye kiss or...?" he managed between gasps, his eyes searching yours with a mix of uncertainty and longing.

"It's a hate-to-be-lame-but-I-love-you-too kiss," you chuckled softly, leaning your forehead against his, savoring the taste of your slightly swollen lips.

A moment of quiet enveloped you both before laughter bubbled forth, cascading into the air as you collapsed onto the bed. JJ hovered above you, his gaze tender as he watched you unwind, your laughter a melody that soothed his soul and pieced together the fragments of his life into a beautiful mosaic.

He brushed his lips against yours again, a feather-light kiss that spoke volumes of tenderness. "I love you... I love you... I love you," JJ whispered softly before claiming your lips once more.

In that sublime moment, amidst the warmth of JJ's embrace and the echo of his heartfelt words reverberating in your heart, you felt a profound sense of peace settle over you. The doubts and uncertainties that once clouded your mind were swept away by the overwhelming certainty of your love for him. You knew, without a shadow of doubt, that JJ Maybank was not just a passing infatuation or a fleeting romance. He was the anchor that grounded you, the light that guided you through the darkest nights.

And as the night embraced you in its tender hands, you surrendered to the beauty of your love story, knowing that with JJ Maybank by your side, you had found your home.

thankx for reading <3

okay, i have to say it right now, bc i think this is my fav jj work so far! and i hope you liked it too and you can always share your opinion in comments or my inbox :3

- your santi 🪐

masterlist

#– santi 🪐#jj maybank fic #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank angst #jj mayback imagine #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank x you #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj x reader #jj x you #jj x y/n #obx fanfiction #obx x reader #fwb!jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x fem!reader

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storiesofsvu · 8 months ago

Text

Midnight Baking

Emily Prentiss x reader warnings: language, briefest mention ever of some unnamed stressful situation. (R doesn't want to talk about it because I was simply too lazy to come up with what was stressing them out, so...here we go. lol)

Emily stirred, her body twitching in her sleep as her nose scrunched up and she subconsciously went to pull the blankets tighter around her body. A cool breeze floated through the room from the open window, the summer night air far nicer than the scorching heat of the day. With it came a whiff of your shampoo, wafting off your pillow straight into Emily’s senses making her want to be impossibly close to you, the heat finally having vanished from the room. Rolling over she let out a groan as her body stretched itself out, pulling her slightly out of her deep sleep until her arm hit what was supposed to be your waist and her senses came to life when all she found was cold sheets.

She didn’t want to open her eyes, didn’t even want to fully wake up, but she wanted you and you certainly weren’t in the bed. She peeked one eye open, squinting around the bedroom to find it dark but the bedroom door cracked open and she wondered if you were in the bathroom. Her hand soothed up and down your side of the bed and not an inch of it held any of your remaining body heat, wherever you’d disappeared to it had not been recent. With a reluctant groan she pushed herself up to sitting, stretching out her body as she yawned, grabbing a hoodie from the floor and sliding her slippers on while she began her adventure through the house.

Upstairs was quiet, dark and empty aside from the soft snores coming from Sergio who Emily gave a little scratch on the head to as she made her way passed him. A light was left on downstairs but that was nothing new, it was instinct to always leave a couple on for the nights Emily was coming home from a case, never sure what hour she’d finally make it back to you. Wandering down the stairs she found the living room empty but a book upturned on the coffee table and a blanket crumpled up on the couch. Her lips twitched up into a grin at the thought of you burrito’d up with your favourite stories as she crossed toward the couch. She flipped the book over, sliding a bookmark into the open page before setting it back on the pile on the table, next neatly folding the blanket and laying it over the back of the couch.

A few steps later and she finally found the main source of light and you, both in the kitchen and she stopped in the doorway, leaning against the frame to watch for a minute. You were lost in your element and clearly had been at it a while, there was a smudge of flour on your cheekbone, three racks of cookies already cooling and incredibly sweet smells lingering in the air. She noticed the window was wide open and upon lingering for a minute realized it must have been to combat the heat from the oven. Her eyes trailed back to you, a frown taking over her features as she began to examine yours, you were more than focused, it was almost intense, your brow furrowed, eyes narrowed just the slightest as you stirred up ingredients. She could tell you were clenching your jaw; your shoulders tense and she just knew you were holding stress in your lower back, especially with the way you kept shifting from one foot to the other to try an alleviate any hip pain.

“Didn’t realize I was living with Willy Wonka.” She teased and you jumped slightly, pulling out an ear bud.

“You’re supposed to be asleep.” You pouted, taking out the other ear bud to safely drop in a ramekin before wiping off your hands as you turned to her.

“So are you.” She replied with a soft laugh, moving through the room to wipe the flour off your face, “what are you doing?”

“Well,” you let out a breath before rattling things off, “I’ve got sugar cookies and chocolate chip cookies done, there’s lemon bars in the freezer setting, I just put in a batch of peanut butter cookies and am working on cupcakes. But I don’t even know if any of it will turn out, I’ve been doing it all by hand so I didn’t have to use the mixer and worry about waking you up.”

“Jeeze, how long have you been down here?”

“More than a few hours…” you replied sheepishly, your body nearly sinking around itself, “I couldn’t sleep, didn’t want to disturb you so I came down here to read. But my brain just wouldn’t shut up, I needed something to make me think and I’ve always kinda been a stress baker so…” You vaguely gestured to the state of the kitchen.

“Is this about what you told me over dinner?” Emily asked, stepping toward you and squeezing softly at your elbow.

“Yeah.” You sighed, “and talking about it won’t help so I’d really rather not.”

“That’s fine.” She shrugged, glancing around, “well, can I at least help?”

“How are you helping if I don’t want to talk about it?” You turned to her with a furrowed brow and she laughed softly.

“I meant with the baking.”

“Oh!” You huffed out an embarrassed laugh, your hand coming to cover your face briefly before turning back to her with a small smile, “yeah, of course. That might even help distract me more.”

“Good.” Leaning in she pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek before rolling up her sleeves, “well, what’s the next step chef?”

You giggled softly, sliding the mixing bowl you’d been using over to Emily and guiding her through the next few steps. While Emily was pretty decent in the kitchen, she certainly would never claim to have your level of skill when it came to baking and that was because she was never about following strict rules. She liked to add in her own flair, skip certain steps or mess around with the amounts and while that always worked out to delicious dinners, it would definitely result in cupcakes with the texture of sandpaper or butter tarts that were left soggy in the middle.

Having Emily in the kitchen with you not only distracted you, it calmed you down, relaxed you to a sense of peace that you’d been craving the past couple of weeks. She asked what you’d been listening to when she interrupted and you admitted with a small smile it was the road trip playlist the two of you had put together of all your favourite songs. You knew it wasn’t a road trip but music was known to bring back memories and every time you heard any of the songs you were immediately transported back to the adventures the two of you had together the previous summer. They made you feel warm and fuzzy inside and always brought a smile to your face and Emily felt the warmth bursting through her at your admittance, a grin plastered on her face while you guided her through the steps to make meringue.

The sun was nearly creeping over the horizon by the time you were finally yawning, a warm and gooey tray of cinnamon buns being pulled from the oven. Emily placed them on a rack to cool, washing her hands before turning back to you to ask what was next. Instead she caught you with your hands on your hips, chewing on your lip as you surveyed the state of the kitchen.

“You mentioned something about Rossi hosting a pretty big get together this weekend, right?”

“Yeah. Retirement party for one of the other agents on our floor, why?”

“Cause I think I maaayy have gone a little overboard.” Your nose scrunched as you glanced over to her and she laughed softly, stepping towards you to kiss the tip of your nose, relaxing it as she did so.

“It’s the first time I’d seen you genuinely smiling all week, I wasn’t about to stop you.”

“Thanks.” Smiling softly you leant into the embrace, kissing her gently, “hope you’re ready to eat nothing but baked goods for a month.”

“Can we start with the cinnamon rolls and call it breakfast?”

An uncontrolled yawn escaped you when you opened your mouth to reply and Emily chuckled, “only if we follow it up with a nap.”

“Sounds perfect.” She pecked your cheek before moving to the cupboard, pulling down a couple of plates to serve the cinnamon buns with.

Overall you ended up with two batches of cinnamon rolls, five sheets of cookies, three dozen cupcakes consisting of vanilla, chocolate and confetti, three dozen muffins (blueberry, carrot and cranberry orange) lemon meringue pie, apple pie, lemon bars, peanut butter balls and a black forest cake. Emily stashed some of it, whether in the pantry or the freezer to save for later and helped you pack up the rest for that weekend, where you discovered Rossi was more than ecstatic to have someone else providing the goodies. Because after all, you were the baker, he was the chef, you’d stay out of each other’s ways but you each had your specialties and you were more than happy to share, especially if it meant quality time in the kitchen with Emily.

_______________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @scorpsik @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @regalmilfs4me @ara-a-bird @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @hopedoesntknow @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx cx cx @momily @nilaues @borinxnovak @soverign @v3nusxsky @mccdreamys-writes @l4yne @obsessedwjill @supercorpstan97 @asolitaryrose3 @lisqueen @mrs-prentiss @whitewinewithice @d33pd3sire-blog @daffodil-heart @maximoffcarter @i-lovefandom @chimnlex @moonlightjxuregui @chestnutninny @gamma-rae-bursts @just-moondust @idkifimasub @gaydragonwitch

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds #midnight baking #emily prentiss fanfiction #fluff #emily prentiss fluff #emily prentiss one shot #criminal minds fluff

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fuckmeyer · 2 months ago

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don't ask Rosalie Hale how she ended up in Home Economics II. she was supposed to be in shop class. sadly, the seats had filled up, and the waitlist had been too long. so, here she was. having endured Forks' rigorous educational system before, Rose could only assume Home Ec II's curriculum would involve learning how to dust knick-knacks, remove stains, and file your taxes.

but no. Rose walked into Building 3 only to find that Room 304 was not a classroom, but a kitchen.

Home Ec II was a cooking class.

and not only was Home Ec II a cooking class, but—Rose had discovered with horror as Edward smirked from the doorway—it was being taken by none other than her idiot brother's girlfriend.

by the bye, Bella Swan was nothing to Rose. the girl was plain, timid, awkward, clumsy—truly an embarrassing human being.

nevertheless, Edward had insisted Rose tolerate his girlfriend. fine. "tolerate" and "ignore" could mean the same thing.

but now, thanks to Home Ec II, tolerating Bella Swan had become impossible.

Rose tried to drop the class. not allowed. she tried to switch with Emmett. ("Aw, babe. I never get to take shop.") she could skip ten classes before becoming truant, but if she failed for poor attendance, the school would call Carlisle and Esme to discuss "remedial options." and god knows her siblings would spend the next several years cracking "dumb blonde" jokes. again.

long story short, Rose was in hell. not only did Bella Swan know her way around a kitchen (she was downright graceful when cooking; had her idiot brother never watched her make minestrone?), but Rose's condition made it impossible for her to cook with anyone else.

and Bella knew this. she seemed smug about it, too; Rose was sure Bella Swan smirked at the thought of a vampire baking cupcakes. she was downright giddy during the breadbaking unit, kneading the dough while going on and on about how "generations of humans before us have been doing this" and "we're connecting with our ancestors."

our. as if Rose hadn't been severed from her bloodline.

anyway, if being human was so fucking great, why did Bella insist on becoming a vampire? she got to bake her bread and eat it, too; wasn't that enough? why not put her cooking to good use? let her give to her friends, impress her dates, feed her children. better that than spending eternity stumbling through high-school cooking classes, oversalting pork chops, scorching the bottoms of chocolate chip cookies, baking loaves of bread she could never eat.

make no mistake: if Rose were human, she would be an excellent cook. she would make brownies every week and let her children lick the whisk. her husband would rave about Rosalie's chicken à la king at the men's club. so help her god, Rosalie would have been the perfect housewife. she could sew, clean, attend to her husband's needs... what did the Swan girl have? foccacia? big deal.

if the playing field were even, the score would tell all: Rose could be a better human than Bella, but Bella would never be a better vampire than Rose. all Bella was doing was wasting her potential.

maybe, if this were a story with a moral, Rosalie might discover that the Swan girl had redeeming qualities: quick on her feet, creative, forgiving, self-sacrificing, and responsible. Bella might discover (though never point out) that Rose's attitude was a reflection of her jealousy, and that humanity had its perks, after all.

but art imitates life. and life is a comedy.

"BABE! GUESS WHO SWITCHED CLASSES RIGHT BEFORE THE DEADLINE?"

as Bella's eyes lit up, and as she and Em scheme up a "molten lava cake that actually explodes," Rose realized: indeed, Home Ec II was to be her hell on earth.

#twilight renaissance #twilight #the twilight saga #bella swan #rosalie hale

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renatogpadilla · 3 months ago

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The Morning After.

Note to self, thought Jinx.

The next time this happened (and Jinx really hoped it did) the welding goggles stay ON.

As amazing as it had been, she had risked going permanently blind several times last night just by virtue of getting so lost in the moment she almost forgot just who she was sharing it with...

Lux stirred next to her, and she realized her mouth hurt from smiling. She looked up at the newly made scorch mark in her roof above the bed. Yup. Not fixing that anytime soon!

She had needed that way more than she was willing to admit... And it had happened! It wasn't a hallucination or a trick of the light (though she was now intimately familiar with that idiom). It had been real! She truly realized how lucky she'd been Lux had taken the first step and been selfish. She herself wouldn't have had the guts. Up until that moment, Jinx had only seen her (or at least attempted to only see her) as a friend. But now here she was, laying next to her, sun hitting her head, bright as the morning and so, so sweet...

Like one of Ellie's muffins!

Muffin~

...

Muffin.....

......

Cupcake.

She sat up in horror as the realization hit her. High class and sheltered? Check. Fancy accent? Check. In charge of a bunch of enforcers? Also check... Adorable and sappy nickname? Had her completely whipped...?

Oh, gods, it happened. Jinx noticed in the one terrible moment of that otherwise beautiful and perfect morning. She had turned into Vi.

For a brief moment, she genuinely reconsidered ever going home at all... But then Lux stirred again, and the moment was gone.

Lux had been awake for a while. Just replaying the night before in her head. The way she'd been able to relinquish control without fearing for her life for once had been a magical experience.

And she kept replaying the talk that led up to it... Over and over... And eventually, she replayed it so much that she picked up on some things that made her shrink in the sheets... Just a few things here and there that Jinx had said, now that she wasn't insurmountably horny and could really take last night in. A few lines kept creeping back into her mind...

"I'm not in love with you..."

"I don't think it's about what I want tonight..."

"When I'm ready, I'll go back..."

Man. Morning-after clarity was a bitch.

She knew she had wanted last night to happen... And in the moment, it had been spectacular! But now that she realized what that implied...

She wanted to say something... And now she was selfish enough to get it off her chest.

"Jinx?" She said, drowsily. She turned to the mess of blue hair laying next to her, and grabbed her hand.

"Hey, beautiful." Jinx managed, the morning still not clinging to her throat. "You sleep tight?"

"I did. It was wonderful." She said, wrapping her arms around her Witch... Her Witch...

Her Witch?

"Listen. I don't think I've ever had a more wonderful night. And honestly, I'd be completely down to do it again, but..."

"But...?" Jinx felt a twang of pain in her chest she hadn't felt before. Well, maybe once, but not for Lux. She was glad to feel it for her almost as much as it scared her... "Did... Did you not...?"

"I loved it! Don't get me wrong! The whole thing was amazing and I'm not going to lie, letting go felt good... I didn't have to be afraid for you. And you didn't have to be afraid for me... And I adore that."

"But there's still something else...?" Her heart started to burn a little. "Did I do something wrong? Did I cross some line? If I did something-"

Lux stopped her, putting a couple of fingers to her lips. "I'm going to say my piece, and you are going to wait until I'm done, okay? Please?"

"Okay. Yes, of course." Jinx was terrified... Maybe using her powers last night had been a bad idea...? "What's wrong, Flashlight?"

"It's about some things you said before." She began... And it wasn't a nice feeling, being this critical after losing themselves in each other the way they had last night, but she got it out. "I was barely functioning properly last night, so I focused on the things I wanted to hear. But I realize now that I don't like all that I heard. I keep hearing myself saying I think I might be in love with you, and then I hear your voice saying you know you don't see me that way... And I understand, in a way. I wasn't innocent enough to believe you wanted to leave your previous love for me, and I wouldn't have asked it... But there IS a part of me, now that the... excitement... has died down a bit... well..." Be honest. Get it out. "A part of me feels used. And don't get me wrong, I love you. But that's not something I ever want to feel again. And how you said last night wasn't about what you wanted... that got me too. I had every intention of not being more than friends because I didn't want to get in the way of something. Because I respected your desicion, no matter how much I wanted you. But now..."

She got quiet for a moment. Just enough for her to realize how she'd made her feel. 'Really living up to your name, Jinx.' She thought, as she kicked herself in her head. She'd said it herself that she wouldn't hurt Lux on a fling! And now look at her... She felt like shit.

"I won't lie and tell you this isn't something I want." She continued. "But I don't want to be a stand-in for someone else. I don't deserve that. So whatever we are, whatever you want us to be... I want you to be sure that you're not doing it to heal. Healing's important. For both of us. But if you want this to continue like this, I want you to know that you love me for me. If not, then I know where I stand."

Lux felt the tears in her hand before she saw them. That's an expression she never wanted to see in Jinx's face again. Her features contorted into pure, undistilled guilt, eyes weeping like waterfalls.

"I'm sorry..." She cried. And Jinx meant it with every ounce of her soul. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you! Never! I didn't think that... I didn't think!" She kissed her hand and held it like a treasure. "I'm such a bitch! I'm so sorry Lux!"

And Lux shed a tear of her own. This hurt like hell... She felt Jinx's hand on her shoulder as she came closer and embraced her, still crying inconsolably.

It was one thing when someone was already hurt, like Jinx, but when you're the one that hurts them... Hurts someone you love... Jinx couldn't find the words. 'I'm sorry' wasn't enough. She didn't think it would ever be enough...

She didn't know how long she wept in her arms, but Lux didn't stop her. Didn't judge. Well, maybe she judged a little, but if she did, she had every right to.

"I used you..." She broke. And her voice was so pained and hurt that Lux thought she might actually understand the weight of those words. "I don't think I knew I was doing it, but that's no excuse. I used you and it hurt you and I will never be able to find the words to make it up to you... But if I can say one thing and have it stick, I want it to be this: I do love you. Not as a stand-in for Ekko. Not as a friend. Not as some... healing mechanism! I love you because I love Luxanna Crownguard. And I can't... I might have some things to figure out, but that should never be an excuse to hurt you, I'm so sorry!"

Lux was genuinely happy to hear that... but it wasn't an answer to her question.

"Thank you, Firework..." She started and kissed her cheek. "I appreciate that you see it. Hearing that makes my heart fly..." How the hell to say this...?

Jinx beat her to the punch.

"Do you want this to continue...?" She said it between sniffles. She was wrecked. "Because I do. And if you choose to let it, I promise to be better! Whatever you want, I promise! But if you don't, I understand. And I'm glad for the night you gave me. 'Sorry' will never be enough..."

Lux... actually had to think about it.

"You still love Ekko, don't you?"

Jinx was hurting bad, but she knew the answer to that. She sniffled again. "Yes... That's not fair to you, but yes."

"And you hope to see him again, and pick that back up?"

"I wanted to... I think it wouldn't be right if I didn't... But the way this happened wasn't right, so now..." Her mind was racing, and stumbling, a mile a minute.

"You're worried it wouldn't be fair to him?"

"Or to you! It wouldn't be fair for anyone! I've already let him think I'm dead this long! And I don't want to leave you like I just... like I just needed a band-aid over a wound!"

They were both in shambles... Lux spoke first.

"You love us both. I appreciate that... I'm blessed to have a space in your heart, and you should know you hold one in mine as well." She loved this witch so much... "I love you. I know I do. I won't deny it anymore, to you or to myself..."

"I won't either..."

Lux had an idea. And it wasn't a pretty one, but she thought it was fair.

"So one day you'll go home and set things right with your Boy Saviour." She said, and just a little bit of that steel came out in her voice. Be selfish. "But until that day, until the second you return and the moment you're not in Demacia anymore, I want you to promise me something."

Jinx finally got off her friend's bosom and sat up. Wiped away her tears and tried to look as determined as she could.

"What do you need from me? Whatever it is. Anything."

Lux steeled herself. She had never asked anything this huge before, but she needed to hear it. "Do you want us? Truly?"

Jinx didn't have to think about that. "Yes! I love you. I want this. I want this so much and I'm sorry that I made you think I didn't!"

Lux had her answer then.

"Then promise me this: From this moment until the second you go home, you are MINE, Jinx of Zaun. You are My Firework. My Witch. And once you go home, you will tell those you love about the girl that helped you love again. And Ekko will know what we were. Because he will deserve to know it too. And if you find that you love him and decide to stay, you will let me know, so my heart can weep and move on. There will always be a part of me that loves you, Jinx. And whatever we are after, I want you to promise that this love, this joy and warmth of now, is real."

Jinx took the words in. Really took them in. Somehow, even after making her feel like that, even after using her, even after admitting she wasn't in love with her the way she was... even after all that... she'd still give her the chance. And in that moment, Jinx realized that maybe... maybe she was more into Lux than she had believed. Maybe she was in love. And if that was the case, she couldn't wait to find out.

"After all of that... you'd still have me?" She looked into her eyes and saw a light she'd never known before. "You still want...?"

"Promise me, Jinx." And if not, let my heart rest. "Because I promised I wouldn't run from you, and I swore that I wouldn't abandon you. So even if you say 'no', I won't leave your life. You mean too much to me for that. But I need to know."

Jinx held the side of her face. Some tears still clung to her eyes. "I don't deserve you."

"Maybe you don't." Lux granted. "And I think you've made me realize that there are few who do, and I thank you for that. But maybe you can earn it."

And Jinx, for once, found the words.

"I promise."

"Are you sure? I won't forgive you if you break my heart, Jinx. I will light you up until there's nothing left." She meant that. Sylas had been enough.

"I promise! And I love you. And I will earn it. On all of me, you will have my best. And I will work day and night to earn your love back."

Lux breathed a sigh of relief...

"Good thing you already started, My Witch." Lux said. And the steel in her voice was gone.

"Your Witch. Always." Jinx blinked the tears out of her eyes and simply whispered. "Can I kiss you?"

And it was now Lux, her Lux, that beat her to the punch.

#How Lux Met Jinx #LightCanon #LightCannon #Luxanna Crownguard #Lux #Lux LoL #lux league of legends #jinx #jinx arcane #jinx lol #jinx league of legends #This one was going to be completely different. Until someone made me realize how fucked up the previous ending had actually been...#I'm sorry if my writing dissapointed any of you.#I hope I can make up for it.#I honestly don't know where to take this story now #But I'll do my absolute best to make sure it's fair for them.#Let me know what you think.

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unhingedoveractivemuse · 6 months ago

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Title: A Lifetime of Afternoon Strolls to Look Forward To

Pairing: Evan “Buck” Buckley/Eddie Diaz

Tags: Love Confession, Friends to Fiances

=======================================

“Should we do cupcakes in cups or just the cupcake tin? Because if we do them in cups we can spin it a little. Like…origin cakes or something? Or-“

Eddie smiles, letting the sound of Buck’s voice wash over him, enjoying the sound as they take an afternoon stroll around the neighborhood. It’s part of the whole ‘getting back out there’ thing that the therapist recommended, and he can think of no one better to do it with him than his best friend.

This is the man who he trusts to have his back. This is the man who he trusts above all.

He’s safe with Buck. Always.

It’s a nice day too. Not too hot but also not chilly. There’s a light breeze, but it’s not too strong to make it unpleasant.

But he thinks he’d take an afternoon stroll with Buck any day. Rain or shine. Scorching hot or freezing cold.

Because it’s Buck.

“Wait,” he says after his partner rattles off another idea for the first bake sale at Christopher’s school since the pandemic. “How much was said cupcake?”

”$1000.”

”For a cupcake?!.”

”The Golden Phoenix is made with Italian cocoa, Ugandan vanilla beans, and edible gold.”

”And you want to recreate it for a middle school bake sale?”

“Just the gold part. Edible gold leaf isn’t that expensive. I figured we could just sprinkle a little bit on.”

”I don’t know if middle schoolers will be so keen on edible gold.”

”But it’ll look pretty.”

”Buck…”

”Fine,” his best friend pouts before talking about some other idea he had, and Eddie can’t help the grin that blossoms on his face.

He loves this man so much.

It’s a fact that he’s settled into recently. After the shooting and learning about Buck’s actions to save him and the recklessness afterward, after wanting Buck by his bedside rather than Ana, after Buck has been with him every step of the way of his recovery, and after therapy due to the shooting that evolved into something more, he can say it.

He loves Buck.

Maybe he should have realized it in hindsight. He’s never really been a talker, but he was never opposed to listening to Buck talk. He’s never had to perform around Buck. He’s never had to worry about Christopher with Buck. He’s never had someone other than Christopher who he will die for, whose every hospital visit has his heart in the throat.

He has to wonder when he started wanting to lay down his life for this man next to him spewing random facts about cupcakes. He has to wonder when his best friend stepped into the role that Shannon left open and flourished in it.

But does hindsight matter? Does knowing when his feelings matter?

All that matters is the here and now.

Because right now, with the sun making Buck absolutely glow, the breeze making the curls the blonde let out wave gently, Eddie can’t think about what would happen if Buck doesn’t have feelings for him.

“Hey, Buck?”

“Yeah?” Buck says, confusion lacing his tone as he stops his explanation about how he would pipe animals onto the cupcakes. Eddie knows where the confusion is coming from. He doesn’t usually interrupt Buck’s rambling after all.

But he can’t help it.

“Marry me?”

…

That is not what he intended to say.

Buck sputters, blue eyes blinking rapidly like he’s trying to get something out of his eyes, coming to a stop outside of a house that Eddie knows is home to one of the nosiest women on the planet. “Repeat that?”

And that makes Eddie stop in his tracks, his thoughts coming to a halt.

“I-I uh…”

”You just asked me to marry you?”

”I mean, would you? L-like if you were-“

Fuck. What is he doing? Why is he trying to work his way out of the situation? He broke up with his girlfriend because he couldn’t stand someone being in the spot Buck’s supposed to be in. He wants Buck to stay in his home so he can see him every day, to wake up next to him every day.

“I mean it. I want you to marry me?”

”Why?” Buck asks, curiously, which makes Eddie feel a little hopeful about the whole situation. Buck hasn’t freaked out. Buck doesn’t even look mad or shocked or any other expression that would be a huge red flag.

“I love you. And it’s not because you’ve been taking care of Christopher and me. I genuinely love you. I love all your rambling. I love that you would show up for Christopher like I would. I love that you let me be me.”

They stand there in silence for a moment then two, and Eddie is about to pass out from anxiety when a blush rises on Buck’s face followed by a shy smile.

“I love you too.”

Eddie sucks in a breath. He heard that right, right? There were little signs, of course, that Buck could love him back, but signs can be misinterpreted and -

“It’s kinda hard not to realize when the love of your life gets shot down right in front of you and you have their blood all over you,” Buck tells him, haunted at the very thought of the memory.

He reaches over to take Buck’s hand like he wanted to before Buck’s animated way of talking had taken the hand out of holding range.

“It’s over now.”

”I thought I was going to lose you. And the thought of living without you was-“

”-I know. Because I feel the same. I would live for Christopher, but living without you is a thought that tears me up. I think that’s why-“

”-you asked me to marry you?”

”Yeah.”

Buck gives him a smile so big and infectious that Eddie can’t help but return it.

“So…” he prompts.

“I’ll marry you, Eddie.”

And if the whole neighborhood will hear about their first kiss by the end of the day?

Well, Eddie doesn’t care.

He’s got a wedding to plan and a lifetime of afternoon strolls to look forward to.

#buddie #9 1 1 fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #eddie diaz #evan buckley #911 fanfic #911 fanfiction #flufftober #flufftober2024

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grits-galraisedinthesouth · 3 months ago

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Show Up. Mess Up.

Maureen Callahan: Disaster Tourists & Netflix Flop in-waiting "Every American I know is saying the same thing after 'disaster tourist' Meghan delayed her Netflix show to 'focus' on the LA wildfires"

"Truly: there's no reason for Meghan to get those jams and jellies into production. America long ago stopped buying what she's selling."

If timing is everything, Meghan Markle has nothing. Her little cooking/entertaining/gardening vanity project for Netflix, set to premiere on January 15, has been postponed to March.

Meghan says the decision was hers, made with respect for her fellow Californians devastated by the Los Angeles wildfires. She issued a statement on Sunday afternoon — Day Five of this apocalypse. Gird your loins for this one.

'I'm thankful to my partners at Netflix' — those are your bosses, Meghan, not your peers — 'for supporting me' — me, me, me, me, me — 'in delaying the launch as we focus on the needs of those impacted by the wildfires in my home state of California.'

It was vintage Meghan: Verbose, vague, meaningless, and thoroughly unnecessary. Because, really, who cares what Meghan Markle is doing or not doing, especially now? Who cares about her ridiculous new Netflix show, already tone-deaf before the fires? Not the vast majority of Los Angelenos, that's for sure.

American families are still struggling in this economy, yet here's Meghan playing Marie Antionette in a rented mansion with her ladybug cupcakes and long hair hanging over these ostensible edibles.

Rule #1: Tie your hair back in the kitchen!

Oh, and she's got a few famous friends standing around and gushing while Meghan, dressed all in white, prepares food.

Really: who doesn't brave inevitable spills and stains while wearing white?

As for who made the call to postpone this turkey? Forgive me if I'm doubtful that Meghan did so unilaterally. More likely to my mind is that Netflix, knowing how damaging the optics would be, pressed pause on this flop-in-waiting. But it doesn't really matter, because I for one am not buying the premise that Meghan much cares about anyone other than herself. And the only thing likely to be cooked in that kitchen is Meghan's reputation, scorched beyond repair.

This is a woman who not only has disregarded the feelings of her own family members but has seemed to relish in salting open wounds.

Oprah was the first salvo, Meghan emanating victimhood as she implied that the royals were racists who prevented her from seeking therapy — even though her husband, along with Prince William and Kate, famously founded a mental health initiative — all while Prince Philip lay dying.

Could she and Prince Harry have altered the air date for that Oprah interview? Put the pin in that grenade?

Then, as the late Queen Elizabeth quietly battled cancer, the Gruesome Twosome announced two more high-profile projects spilling more royal secrets.

'Harry & Meghan' — the Netflix docuseries in which Meghan mocked her curtsy to the Queen while her simp of a husband sat silently, a pained expression on his face — premiered just three months after the Queen died in December 2022.

Could that have been delayed, too? Surely it wasn't a time-sensitive project. Griping and moaning have no expiration date, after all.

One month later came 'Spare', Harry's mortifying memoir of his frozen todger, fantasies of killing his father, fisticuffs with William and reprinted text exchanges between Meghan and Kate — texts that only Meghan could have provided, an obscene breach of trust.

And of course, last year Meghan dropped — quite prematurely — a trailer for her 'American Riviera Orchard' brand, gallivanting around her $14 million estate in a ballgown.

That particular timeline is devastating:

January 17, 2024: Kate announces that she has undergone major abdominal surgery and will be out of public life for an indeterminate period — shocking news regarding a young mother of three, let alone the future queen.

February 5, 2024: Buckingham Palace discloses that King Charles has been diagnosed with cancer.

March 14: Meghan drops her 'ARO' trailer.

March 22: Kate, in a pre-recorded video message that stuns the world, announces she too has cancer and is undergoing chemotherapy.

One could say that the Sussexes are haunted by bad timing, luck, chance — you name it. Or perhaps these calamities have been 'manifested' by the Gruesome Twosome themselves, with all their dark energy and seething resentments. Karma always catches up.

It's hard to wish well two people who have clearly sought to hurt their own families. Who push on with their empty, vainglorious projects despite the health struggles of major royals.

January 7, 2025: Meghan posts to Instagram that her dog and co-star in her new Netflix series, Guy, has died, but does not say when. Hours later, the LA wildfires broke out.

Here's the problem: Nothing these two now do will ever be looked at kindly. Their little jaunt to visit wildfire survivors on Friday — alighting from hours away in untouched Montecito, Meghan wearing an 'LA' baseball cap and her most concerned expression — has been slammed online.

Actress Justine Bateman called them 'disaster tourists'.

Harry and Meghan's little jaunt to visit wildfire survivors on Friday — alighting from hours away in untouched Montecito — has been slammed online.

'What a repulsive "photo op" they achieved,' Bateman wrote. 'They are "touring the damage"? Are they politicians now?'

How unself-aware they are, acting like royals even though, through their own machinations, they are no longer anything of the sort, doing all the stuff they said they had no interest in doing.

Meghan's reported remark while on her 2018 tour of Australia: 'I can't believe I'm not getting paid for this' — months after she was thrown a $39 million wedding.

Imagine they had stayed. Harry and Meghan would be picking up all manner of royal duties and ceremonies as Charles and Kate convalesce.

Indeed, Meghan, as an American-born working duchess, could have volunteered to go to LA during this time of crisis, to offer some hugs and ladle some soups. And it would have mattered.

Instead, she and Harry are cosplaying at being royal.

Recall her red-carpet appearance last October, in a plunging $6,000 red Carolina Herrera gown, at a benefit for LA's Children's Hospital. 'There wasn't a great deal of warmth from people when she arrived,' socialite Lizzie Cundy, who was in attendance, told the Mail.

And of course, there was that uninvited appearance in Uvalde, Texas in 2022, after one of the worst school shootings in history. Meghan rocked up with a camera crew in tow, there in her 'personal capacity as a mother', her spokesperson told People magazine.

The online backlash was swift and merciless. And it entrenched an enduring suspicion among many Americans that Meghan Markle only does what's good for Meghan Markle.

So forgive me if I don't believe that she's pausing her Netflix show for any other reason than to salvage her dented, decaying brand.

Truly: there's no reason for Meghan to get those jams and jellies into production. America long ago stopped buying what she's selling.

#maureen callahan #tragedy vultures #la fires #meghan markle is a fraud #meghan markle is a liar #spare us #worldwide privacy tour #like a spare #netflix #megflix #megflop #show up mess up #disaster tourism #vanity project #postponed #marie antoinette

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