#this was the easy part it was mostly just an edit

[bogkeep]

i've got a bit of an odd inquiry, i'm wondering if a thing is a common childhood experience or if it was my personal brand of autism...

when i think back on watching movies (mostly animated movies intended for children) as a kid, i remember not really understanding the overarching Plots. i understood things like "uh oh monster is trying to kill us" or "oh no! quicksand!" but i feel like all movies were just People Going Places And Doing Things to me. i think that rewatching movies in my mid teens and onwards is when i finally like, understood what the heck was even going on, what the characters were trying to accomplish due to internal motivations, and like... the parts of a movie that weren't shown on screen as physical entities but are easy enough to comprehend if you follow what the characters say and do. when it clicked for me that all these movies had plots it was a revelation.

it's entirely possible that i just straight up didn't understand what the characters were talking about, that it took me a long time to fully understand what a bunch of words meant, or that it got lost in an auditory soup. or maybe it's just normal for brains to develop comprehension with age!! i've just never heard anyone talk about this particular experience, but i Have witnessed too much discourse about Good Writing in kid's shows and movies while i know that it would not have made much difference to my seven year old self that couldn't connect a single dot apparently.

anyway does this sound weird or normal to you

edit: it's also possible i am misremembering at what age i started to Understand Movies, and that it seemed revelatory when i rewatched movies i had not seen since i was much younger. much to ponder

[winksasleeplesseye]

SUMMARY: Leon returns from a mission, same as always. But something is different as he closed his eyes to sleep.

PAIRING: Leon Kennedy x F!Reader

WARNINGS: Mostly angst for now. Also no editing we die like men around these parts

It all started with a dream. And no, not in the way you’d think. Leon, having completed his latest mission as the government's best lap dog—asset, had returned home to what he could deem some sense of normalcy. Well, as much as he could have from his days as a cop to now. A monotonous routine he’d settled into that provided some semblance of that…normalcy.

Wake up, eat, shower, go to the office, paperwork for mission reports, go home, sleep, repeat. Of course, the added benefit of missions—despite their punishing nature, helped break it up enough that Leon never could pinpoint the lack of what he was missing. What he’d been missing for a long time. You. When he thought of how his life panned out in the wake of the Raccoon City incident, Spain, and other incidents too many to count on one hand, he drifted back to you. Both of you had met that fateful night, both of you with similar stories to one another. Both of you sharing in a bond that failed to measure up to anything else Leon had ever known in his 21 years of living at that time. He hated to overthink it, it was just one evening after all and he had an awful tendency to fall too hard, too fast but he remembered your shared glances, your easy words, all of it during and after the incident—he couldn’t have imagined that. Was this always how things were meant to be? Leon could say with confidence, he did more existing than living. And most days, he was fine with that. As fine as one could be, given the circumstances. But that evening when he closed his eyes, expecting his usual nightmares that often woke him up in a cold sweat….he found something different. Sunlight streamed through the blinds of his apartment, filtered only the added curtains over them. The warmth of the sun hit right into eyes and for some reason, he couldn’t recall the last time it had ever been so nice outside. At least by DC weather standards lately. He fought to push himself from out of the covers but similar to the warmth of the sun, another warmth was emanating next to him in bed. A person. Shit. Did he bring someone home? Why couldn’t he remember that? He cautiously chanced a look closer to the body, hidden under the covers as they cling to them. Stirring briefly, the person that turned over was…you. Your eyes were closed, chest slowly rising and falling. You. You were asleep in his bed. He couldn’t recollect the last time he’d seen you since…. “If you’re going to stare, a photo would do you wonders, Mr. Kennedy,” you spoke up, voice a tad groggy but your eyes were still closed. Your smile was undeniable though. At first, Leon didn’t know what to say. You spoke as if this were an everyday, normal occurrence. Waking up together. Being together. Something nagged at the back of Leon’s mind. Was he going crazy? Was this even real? Okay, focus. He just needed to do what he usually did to start his day. You weren’t actually there, his brain was just trying to make sense of the chaos of his waking life no matter how much he believed it was normal. Without a word, Leon practically threw the covers off and pressed his feet into the cold, hardwood floor. His feet padded against it, still felt fairly real. Pressure of his feet to the floor didn’t make it seem like he’d float away. Once in the bathroom, he ran his hands under the faucet. Cold water sent the same sensation it always did to his nerves and he ran the water over his face.

Still bitingly cold. Still real. He lifted his eyes to the mirror, seeing himself like he always had. Same tired eyes, same hair, same Leon. But still the constant of you also rising from the bed from his peripheral vision. Leon tries to convince himself that maybe he got something in his eyes as he rubbed them furiously. Then arms wrap around his waist from behind, your cheek glued to his back. Your hands began tracing over his skin, soft but firm. His mind had to be playing a trick on him, he can feel the pressure, the heat of you against him. No one’s mind could conjure up sensations like that. Not even Leon’s. “Hmm, a response would’ve been appreciated, mister,” you said as you cling to Leon. You sound like you’re playfully pouting, he turned his eyes over his shoulder to see you were, in fact. You were there. Holding him like you didn’t want to let go. For a moment, Leon slips into this, plays along. “Ah, I’m sorry,” he turned around, cupped your face, fingers grazing your jaw as he stared into what was assuredly your eyes that he remembered. The same soft, sweet eyes. Underneath the bright, rather harsh bathroom light, he could see their same clarity. Leon’s mind often had a funny way of muddling the details of you but as you stood here in his arms, you became more real. Every single detail he could feel as he ran his hands down your skin, the softness, the heat, the scent as he pressed his lips to your neck briefly. You pulled back, eyes filled with a quiet affection but he didn’t miss the small bit of confusion, “You’re being…strange,” you murmured, but there was no judgment in your voice, only that soft smile of understanding that he loved so much. You ran a hand over his forehead, “You sure that last mission didn’t give a head injury? Or a fever?” He grabbed your hands, placing them around his neck. “No, I promise, everything’s all good.” He smiled faintly, a sense of contentment spreading across his face. “No head injury or fever, feel like a million bucks,” he spoke. He leaned down, pressing his lips gently against yours, tasting the sweetness of your lips had him convinced this had to be real. He wasn’t sure how but he wouldn’t question it. Your laughter against his lips, echoed softly. But your voice was slowly muffling, fading into the haze of his subconscious as if whatever this is was beginning to slip away. He could feel it: the cool edge of awareness, the creeping pull of waking. But he pushed through, kissing you once more, the sensation seemed to fade a little more, like it was slipping through his fingers, like you were.

For a moment, the world stood still. The sound of his heartbeat, the feel of your warmth against him, the light touch of your hand on his cheek—it was all so real. Too real to be anything but true. He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, eyes closed, trying to hold on. “I don’t want to wake up,” he muttered, almost in disbelief, like the words themselves could prevent the inevitable. Before you could respond, Leon shot up from his bed. The familiar jolt that startled him into awake as always. Less fear behind it this time. Still, his heart hammered in his chest as he sat up, stiff as a board. All he could see was the dull, gray reality of his apartment, the harsh light of the morning seeping in through the blinds. The bed was empty. The room was silent. His hand shot out instinctively to the side, reaching for something that wasn’t there. His fingers brushed against the cold, empty sheets. No you. No warmth. The air in the room felt almost offensively sharp, pricking at his skin rather than a comforting cool. A stark contrast between his dream and the dullness of the world he inhabited was too much to stand right now. The echoes of the dream clung to him like a shadow. Everything felt so…real. Leon ran a hand over his face, frustration and a longing mixing in his chest, the ache of loss—one for which he had never addressed with you, intensified. The soft weight of you in his arms, the way they had kissed, a promise of a life Leon had never imagined. Until now.

Leon tried. He did. The fleeting glimpse of what his dream offered was nothing more than that, a dream. But still, Leon couldn’t help but to let his mind wander in his waking hours the next day. A new change to his routine. He worked more efficiently, only for the slight hope he could continue his dream. With you by his side. He couldn’t deny that his heart ached. Ached at how life had turned out and what could’ve been and it was as if his mind decided to bring the reminders to the forefront after all this time. The small moment of domesticity, a moment so genuinely normal and ordinary felt so surreal. Leon never actually envisioned it for himself. Not after everything. Just didn’t seem like it could be in the cards for him. He was relegated to one role and one role only and he never had the determination to prove himself wrong. That he could do both. Have a partner and be an agent. Have someone to come home to. He certainly couldn’t and wouldn’t have expected to have that with you either. The government kept you both separated for a reason, one he’d never understand. Again, he tried to reason with himself and chalk it up to just his brain doing what it does. Why did everything feel so real then? Explain that, Kennedy. He could still taste the sweetness of her lips, feel their pressure against his. God, he had to just be going crazy. That had to be it. Why of all times does this happen now? At the end of the work day, he decided to fight sleep. Upon entering his apartment, he instead lounged on the couch and switched on late night television. The television glowed dimly in the apartment, its flickering images casting muted light across the room. The sound of a late-night talk show droned on, the host’s laughter echoing faintly in the background. Leon sat slouched on the couch, his dinner forgotten on the coffee table. There was enough nonsense on the screen that Leon assumed he had given himself enough stimulation to not fall asleep or really even think. The room, the city, the world seemed quiet, but that actually did nothing to quiet his mind. He found himself gazing aimlessly around the room. Not much decor on the walls, the furniture functioned—so, so hollow. His eyes settled on the far wall, the noise of the TV becoming faint to his ears, and that’s when he assumed he was going crazy as images came to his mind. With you. They crept up like a thief in the night, but part of him seemed to subconsciously want them to. In the dim light of his apartment, he could almost see you. You, leaning against that wall, your arms crossed with a teasing smirk on your face. “You think you’re so smooth, Kennedy,” you said, stepping closer. Your voice was playful, but your eyes held a heat that made his breath hitch. He saw himself—dream Leon he assumed—taking a step forward, closing the gap between them. “And you don’t?” he shot back, his voice low, his lips tugging into a half-smile. Before he could say anything else, you grabbed his collar and pushed him against the wall with surprising strength. Their lips met, and the heat between them was instant, overwhelming. Leon blinked, and the vision dissolved. The wall was just a wall again, bare and unremarkable. Leon’s eyes drifted to the cushion next to him, an almost transparent version of you manifesting sitting next to him, fingers lightly brushing his. He could feel it—the warmth of your touch, the way your thumb idly stroked his knuckles as they sat side by side. Another scene played in his mind. You had turned toward him, your eyes sparkling with mischief. “You know what I love about you?” You had asked, tilting your head. “What’s that?” Another Leon had replied, his voice soft, but his heart thundered all the same in his chest. You had smiled, leaning in close. “That you’re still so easy to fluster.” You kissed him then, slow and deliberate, your lips brushing his as if savoring the moment.

The talk show host’s voice pulled him back to reality, and Leon rubbed a hand over his face, letting out a heavy sigh. The television’s glow felt oppressive now, highlighting the emptiness of the room. He stared at the blank wall across from him, his heart aching with every memory that wasn’t real but felt like it should have been. The visions were so vivid, so vibrant, as though his mind had painted a life he could never truly have. The silence in the apartment grew deafening, and for a moment, Leon almost reached out—toward a version of you, the dream of you. But his hand fell back to his lap, and he closed his eyes, leaning his head against the couch. “Damn it,” he whispered into the quiet, his voice raw. “I’m losing it.”

And yet, despite his assessment, he began to welcome it. If he was able to have momentary reprieve, happiness in his dreams? He’d take it. Over the next few days, his mind would again drift. The more dreams, the more they bled into reality and sometimes he couldn’t tell what came from his memories or what came from the dreams. He’d sit in his office, the faint scent of ink and coffee heavy in the air, hearing things he’d think you’d say in the moments that the monotony dragged. Which only made him realize just how mind-numbing it all was. Tedious, this kind of work dulled the edges of his mind. But today, it felt sharper—every word, every line of text seemed to echo with something missing. He signed his name at the bottom of a form and paused, his pen hovering over the paper. Your voice drifted through his thoughts, clear as if you were sitting across from him. “You’ve got the worst handwriting I’ve ever seen. Are you sure you’re not a doctor?” A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, unbidden and fleeting. His eyes flicked to the empty chair on the other side of the desk, and for a moment, he could almost see you there. Your hair pulled back, a teasing smile on your lips as you slid a takeout box across the desk. “Thought you could use something that wasn’t brewed in the office swamp,” you’d say, pulling chopsticks from your bag and settling in like you belonged there. Leon blinked, and the vision dissolved, leaving only the empty chair and the stack of paperwork. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself back to the task at hand.

At the end of the day, he held a flickering sense of hope that he’d be able to see you again in his dream tonight. It was where you were as real as the air he breathed. Your head laid against his chest, soft steady breaths coming from you. A quiet comfort that anchored him in the hazy realm between sleep and awake. Your scent—familiar and impossibly soothing—permeated the air, wrapping around him like a memory made flesh. He’d continue to convince himself that his mind could never replicate something like that. The sensation as your fingers brushed over his, squeezing his hand in yours, made his chest ache as he looked at you. All of this felt so right. The scene shifted before his eyes and he now watched you move around their shared kitchen, wearing one of his shirts as the fabric brushed your thighs as you flipped pancakes with ease. Your hair was slightly mussed from sleep, humming a tune under your breath that seemed vaguely familiar. The heat from kitchen coupled with the faint clicking of the spatula and your humming—it was so real. “Breakfast will be done soon,” you said without looking up, your voice light and teasing. “Unless you want to keep staring at me like a lovesick puppy. In that case, I can take my time.” Leon smiled, his heart swelling at the ease in your tone. He stepped closer, his socked feet soundless on the floor. “Maybe I like staring.” “You’re very smooth in the morning, aren’t you?” You smirked in his direction. “I am. Hard not to be when you look like this,” He grinned, leaning against the counter, closer to you. You chuckled. “You are trouble, Agent Kennedy.” How could he convince himself this wasn’t real? The scent of the sweet batter of pancakes. The ticking clock all gave credence to this not being a dream. It was all clearer and sharper than any dream he’d had before. Leon stared, his gaze intense. He wanted to stay in this moment, his heart swelling with a fullness he hadn’t experienced in a while. In this dream, this moment, everything was perfect. He didn’t want to wake up.

[wiltenjoyer]

okay wait I forgot one of my video editing programs can remove vocals. can't get rid of the sound effects, but still pretty good. also sparkles bc I like sparkles

[good-beanswrites]

"Becomes more competitive" you say? - refering to your headcanons with downbad fuuta 👀

For someone I can imagine if his partner is someone that's a little flirty and knows this, they might initiate a few scenarios just to fluster and see what he tries next only for him to combust (although there might be a few rare occasions where he does get soft)

YES !!

Fuuta is constantly fueled by a mix of personal pride and the need to Be The Best at whatever’s going on, the societal expectation to be manly and good at wooing someone, and also the feeling of “WOW it turns out I’ve never had a real friend or connection in my life and now that I have someone with genuine mutual love between us I’m going to go a little crazy about it and do things way out of my comfort zone without thinking twice until it’s too late.” He’ll leap into a variety of situations – doing favors, participating in couples’ activities, flirting, and making advances of physical touch – solely focused on Winning, only to realize too late that he’s gotten himself into a romantic/intimate situation he wasn’t prepared for 😅

I especially love the thought of someone who knows this well, and plays a little game of “how long can I string this along until his competitiveness gives out into embarrassment?” 

They’d get used to dropping hints while doing different activities about how talented they are doing it, maybe even the best, and no one could do this any better – so that Fuuta inevitably joins in to prove them wrong. If they’re already in an established relationship, I think his partner could overcome any of his party pooping by suggesting they show up the other couples in whatever “cheesy” thing they’re doing. (The partner eventually learns to be a bit more careful with this power, though. As well as things usually end, there have been some mishaps when Fuuta decides “it can’t be that hard to do dancing lifts/dips, right?”) There are a few situations that he catches himself in and explodes that he was tricked into it, but there are others that surprise his crush by how readily he pours his effort into the activity.

Fuuta would be extremely hesitant to initiate physical touch out of fear of overstepping (some of it is healthy respect/consent, and some of it is overthinking paranoia) so it’s up to a more confident crush to push his boundaries. Starting as simple as taps to get attention, and building up even to something like holding hands, they figure out what kinds of things make this touchstarved idiot bluescreen, what turns him bright red, and what he’ll actually melt into and return. The minute they start the whole process, though, it unlocks something in his mind: he realizes that there's no need to fear physical advances, and in fact, he can be the one causing the bluescreening. There's a 50/50 whether his smug attempts at being touchy will backfire and leave him more frazzled in the end 😅

He's never once shied away from a verbal battle, and flirting is no different. He may not have a lot of quick wit, but he can certainly hold his ground in back-and-forth that involves some romantic undertones and teasing. He’d be accustomed to some pretty crass gaming lobbies, so I imagine he doesn’t mind dishing out dirty jokes and innuendos in an attempt to fluster his crush. However, it’s way easier to dish it out than to take it – it doesn’t take long for his crush’s forward comments to absolutely break him down and leave him sputtering. Though he loses all battles like that, there are moments when he's sure they have complete privacy that he ventures some vulnerable compliments that can actually leave the other speechless. That is, until he immediately backtracks in an attempt to save face...

[raiiny-bay]

starting a new wip >>> finishing my current wip

[unproduciblesmackdown]

they're so right about the diction of course

they're also soooo right about the breath control from william "holds that 'again' in (acoustic) loser geek whatever for fifteen damn seconds and long enough live that other jeremys just gotta be cutting it down a bit when they perform it" roland like my god the consistency in every moment of these lines. that lowest note being such a crisp & cool spritz & he's sometimes holding it too & it just never falters like my god....the mass effecties are having a great time w/this too, hope it gets around to someone official seeing it, which gets around to will. simply going tf off once again lord....

and the extra mile

[sysig]

What’s Bun-Bun’s signature colour? (Patreon)

[niennanir]

Listen to your elders

So last week I posted abut the importance of downloading your fic. And then three days later AO3 went down for 24 hours. No one was more weirded out by this than I was. But while y’all were acting like the library at Alexandria was on fire I was reading my download fic and editing chapter eight of Buck, Rogers, and the 21st Century. And also thinking about what I could do to be helpful when the crisis was actually over.

So first off, I’m going to repeat that if you’re going to bookmark a fic, you really need to also download the fic and back it up in a safe place. I just do it automatically now and it’s a good habit to get into.

But let’s talk about some other scenarios. Last October I lost power for over a week after hurricane Ian. Apart from not having internet or A/C I did find plenty to do, I collect books so I had plenty to read, but maybe, unlike me, your favorite comfort reads aren’t sitting on a bookshelf. So let’s do something about that, shall we?

In olden times many long years ago around 1995 we printed off a lot of fic. It was mostly SOP to print a fic you planned to reread and stick it in a three ring binder. And that’s totally valid today too, but you can also make a very nice paperback with a minimum amount of skill and materials.

Let’s start with the download; Go to Ao3 and select your fic, we’ll be working with one of mine. This method works best with one shots, long fic tends to need a more complicated approach. Get yourself an HTML download

Open up the HTML download and select all then copy paste into any word processor. Set the page to landscape and two columns, then change the font to something you find easy to read, this is your book, no judgement. This is all you have to do for layout but I like to play a little bit. I move all the meta, summary, notes to the end and pick out a fun font for the title: 

No time like the present to do a quick proofread. Congratulations, you’ve just created your first typeset. On to the fun part.

Now you’re going to need some materials:  8.5x11in paper ruler one sheet of 12x12 medium card stock (60-80lb) scissors pencil pen or fine tip marker sheet of wax paper white glue two binder clips 2 heavy books or 1 brick butter knife

You’ll also need a printer, if you’re in the US there is almost a 100% chance your local library has a printer you can use if you don’t have your own. None of these materials are expensive and you can literally use cheap copy paper and Elmers glue.

Print your text block, one page per side. Fold the first page in half so that the blank side is inside and the printed side out:

use the butter knife to crease the edge. Repeat on all the sheets. When you’ve finished, stack them up with the raw edge on the left and the folded edge on the right. I used standard copy paper, because you’re only printing on one side there’s no bleed to worry about. Take the text block and line everything up. Use the binder clips to hold the raw edge in place.

Wrap the text block in the wax paper so that the raw edge and binder clips are facing out. I’m going to use my home built book press but you don’t need one, a brick or a couple of books or anything else heavy will work fine.

Once the text block is anchored down, take off he binder clips and get out the glue.

You can use a brush but you don’t need one, smear some glue on that raw edge.

Go make a margarita, watch The Mandalorian, call your mother. Don’t come back for at least an hour

In an hour smear some more glue on there and shift your brick forward so that the whole book is covered. This keeps the paper from warping. While glue part 2 is drying we’ll do the cover. Get out your 12x12 cardstock

Mark the cardstock off at 8.5 inches and cut it. Measure in 5.5 inches from the left and put in a score line with the butter knife (the back edge not the sharp edge)

Carefully fold the score line, this is your front cover. You have some options for the cover title, you can use a cutting machine like a cricut if you have one, you can print out a title on the computer and use carbon paper to transfer the text to the cardstock. I was in a mood so I just freehanded that beoch. Pencil first then in pen.

Take your text block out from under your brick. Line it up against the score mark and mark the second score on the other side of the spine

Fold the score and glue the textblock into the cover at the spine. Once the glue dries up mark the back cover with the pencil and then trim the back cover to fit with your scissors.

Voila:

I’m going to put this baby on the shelf next to the Silmarillion.

The whole process, not counting drying time, took less than an hour.

If you want to make a book of a longer fic, I recommend Renegade Publishing, they have a ton of resources for fan-binders. 

[wolviensabes]

NSFW Alphabet: Wolverine

a/n: I was excited to write a nsfw version of this because his character was surprisingly fun and easy to write for this. I like Logan because you can really be flexible with how he is in bed. It all depends on preference and writer ofc, but still it was fun to write. Wrote mostly gender neutral, on parts where body is described, I wrote for afab and amab. Not edited please ignore mistakes ty <3

18+ under the cut. MDNI.

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

Aftercare king.

He knows just what to do, especially since sex with him is normally pretty rough and crazy. He leaves you a mess under him and you're barely able to walk. "Atta girl/boy, princess/prince, up you come." he grabs hold of you and lifts you up, carrying you to the bathroom to get you all clean.

He's a messy partner so you need a shower to get all the sex off you. He leaves you alone to do anything you need privately, but otherwise he's helping you maintain your balance in the shower and drying off.

You're in such a dazed state, you feel dizzy and lightheaded, still a little loopy. He will get you back to bed and lay you down, feeling pride and satisfaction within himself at how he could bring you to such a state. Only he could do that to you.

He will hold you close to him, you feel cold now, his body will warm you up. He likes skin to skin, so unless you want a shirt, he won't dress you so he can feel your softer skin against his own.

The praise he gives you makes you feel so special and worth so much, it helps when you come down from your high, knowing he was satisfied and loved every moment of the act.

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

I don't think he really has a favorite part of his partner, but I will die on the hill that he likes his partners a little chunky. He loves to grab onto you, he likes how he can manhandle you without worry of hurting you.

Those plush hips and belly drive him insane. If you are afab, your ass draws his hand in every single time and he loves to smack and grab it. If you are amab, he will grab onto your thighs or soft, relaxed chest muscles and squeeze them. Both afab and amab, his hands come around from behind and gently knead your belly.

Logan is a dude so on himself...he holds his manhood very high, and for good reason.

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

Filthy.

He gets that shit all over the place and he loves it.

He loves marking you inside and out. He loves shooting his spunk on your body just as much but something about releasing inside you makes him somehow cum harder and with more.

He's not that bad taste wise, I mean cum doesn't taste great, but he's not bad. Not too bitter, not too salty, but his cum is thick. And when he does climax, he cums a LOT.

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

Logan, being a primal mutant, loves scents. It's one of the things that he relies on a lot, and your scent is intoxicating. He steals some of your clothes and smells them, or sometimes he will dive into your crotch and inhale you.

Not exactly dirty, but Logan secretly likes when you scratch his head or mess with his hair after sex. He likes to keep himself up as a tough guy most of the time but when you wind down, even if he's the one holding you, he sometimes scoots down enough to let you play with his hair.

He will move his head where he wants your hand to scratch and leans into it when you reach that sweet spot.

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

He's over 200 years old, he's got experience.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying):

Literally anything where he can watch you mewl and moan for him.

He also likes from behind or positions where he can watch his cock sink into you with each thrust.

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

Logan isn't goofy but he also isn't serious. He's open to messing around and with tossing, turning, all sorts of play, it's not going to be serious 100% of the time.

He will chuckle and tease, sometimes funny noises are made, that's just how it is, and you both will laugh a little...but then you get back to it because who can resist?

Sometimes he will play fight you, wrestle you down to the bed and hold you there, with ease, and he smirks down at you trying to overpower him. It's a fun way to rile him up for sex and he enjoys it quite a bit.

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

Logan is hairy, but not insanely so. I think below he is pretty crazy but he trims it down enough once you two get more intimate. Though he thought it was funny watching you spit out his pubes.

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

He can be romantic but he is more passionate than anything. He likes to make sure you feel good, and he loves doing it. Once he gets you feeling good, he gets a little more rough and tells you what he likes without shame.

He's very forward, and his communication in the bedroom is immaculate. You wished he were like that outside of the bedroom sometimes, because there's no hesitation, no secrets, he's fully confident and tells you exactly what he wants.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon):

Sometimes he masturbates, sometimes he doesn't. It all depends on how horny he is in the moment.

He'll fist his cock to the thought of you, or since he likes your scent a lot, he will practically inhale your underwear and jerk himself until he cums all over his hand.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks):

Logan...he's kinky as hell.

Dom/sub dynamics drive him up the wall. He loves being in control, manhandling you, having you listen to what he says without fail.

Slight primal play would be up his alley. The playful wrestling and fighting gets him going and he likes to bite and mark you up during sex. Almost looking like an animal attacked you, but no, it was just Logan marking you as his.

Dirty talk king. He is so brazen with his language, whispering it into your ear as he pounds your poor, swollen hole full of another load.

Praise, praise, praise! He loves to praise you and how good you take his thick cock inside you.

Overstimulation/denial, he loves the control. He often makes you cum multiple times before even penetrating you just to hear you cry and whimper for him.

Maybe a slight breeding kink, since he loves the idea of filling you up to the brim with his thick cum, (this goes regardless of afab or amab), he's going to fill you up regardless if it's biologically possible to impregnate you or not. It's just for fantasy anyway.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do):

He will do it anywhere he feels like. He doesn't care who sees. You're his and he likes everyone around you to know it.

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

I love that most everyone agrees that wearing his clothes makes him fucking feral. He would lose it seeing you in a shirt of his...or maybe even naked and only wearing a flannel. Slowly unclasping each button to make him growl and almost rip the damn thing off you.

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

He'd never want to hurt you. There are things he likes that might harm you but he doesn't actually want to cause you harm.

He can be rough and he doesn't want to actually hurt you. A spank or choking just enough to get you dizzy is about as far as he would go. Logan would never intentionally try to harm you, especially during something as intimate as sex.

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

He has a hard time picking what he likes better. He loves diving between your legs and lapping you. But he also loves to see you choke around his thick cock.

Logan loves the dirtiness of it, his dick in your throat and watching you try your best to please him. He loves seeing you choke and gag on him, your face gets so sloppy with spit and cum, it makes him more crazy in bed when he's fucking you.

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

With Logan it can be 50/50. He can be rough and hard, or slower and passionate. Most of the time he is ensuring you cum multiple times, and then he fucks you into the bed while you cry around his cock. Then, he gives you another orgasm, he cums, and the cycle repeats until you literally can't take it anymore.

Then he cleans you up and makes sure you know how good you were for him. You'll have trouble walking for a few days.

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

He's down for a quickie, he can make you cum fast when he wants to. However he does prefer to make you whine and beg instead of giving you a solid, quick orgasm unless you really need it.

Sometimes he needs a quick one too, so a fast blowjob helps. But again, he likes to take his time rather than rush it.

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

He takes plenty of risks. He loves to test the waters with you and experiment with all sorts of things. He's down to try almost anything.

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

His mutation allows him to have enhanced stamina so be prepared for that.

He can go for literal hours and not be tired at all. His mutation also allows his refectory period to be very short. So...you will be filled to the brim.

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

I don't think he would have any for himself, but he would start to grow a collection if you had any or showed interest in some. He'd keep them under his bed in his room whenever you wanted to spice things up.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease):

Logan is the king of teasing you. He loves to tease until you can't take it and tears are rolling down your cheeks.

He always gives you what you want in the end, but not without that asshole making you beg.

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

He doesn't give two shits who hears him, or you, he is loud. He grunts, groans, snarls. Not to mention the insane level of dirty talk he does, and he loves to make you scream out his name.

By the time you're done, you swear half the mansion heard you.

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

He dirty talks like crazy.

Sometimes he will fuck you when you're wearing his clothes, or when he comes back from a mission, he doesn't bother cleaning up before he storms up to your shared room and he fucks you.

Angry sexxx

He lets out his frustrations from missions as he pounds into you.

"Goddamn slim, stupid fuckin' self-designated leader thinks he can boss me around like I'm nothin' but a loyal scout to 'em." he grunts and snarls with each plap of his hips into you, his cock driving against you. You have no idea what happened on the mission but can you complain? No.

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

Logan's dick is huge let's get that out of the way.

He's thick, it feels like he rips you open each time he penetrates you and it feels fucking incredible. That also means lots of foreplay~

He's veiny, his cock throbs as he stands erect, and his balls are heavy.

He's a good 8 to 8.5 inches fully erect, the damn thing leaks precum constantly when he's horny.

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

Insanely high. He will fuck you every single day if he could.

He is down to fuck all the time, anytime. You just have to say the word and he's on top of you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards):

Logan makes sure you're comfortable before he even attempts to sleep. He stays awake, letting you curl into him and he watches you, making sure nothing he did was too much or causing pain.

Once you seem okay and have fallen asleep, he will allow himself to relax and fall asleep beside you.

Thanks for reading.

*SNIKT*

Tag list: @strawberryshortcake20

Please let me know if you want to be added to the tag list by leaving a 🧡.

dividers by @/strangergraphics

[unboundprompts]

Could we have some dark angsty prompts, mostly in the form of dialogue? :3

Dark Angsty Dialogue

-> feel free to edit as you see fit.

"You can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved." "Then I’ll drag you out of the darkness kicking and screaming if I have to."

"Every time you leave, it feels like you’re tearing pieces out of me." "Maybe if you felt the emptiness I do, you’d finally understand."

"I lied to protect you." "No, you lied because it was easier than telling me the truth."

"Do you even love me anymore?" "Does it matter? You’ll leave either way."

"You told me it would get better, but it hasn’t. It’s just gotten quieter." "Sometimes quiet is all we get."

"You never should’ve trusted me. I destroy everything I touch." "Maybe I’m okay with being destroyed if it means staying with you."

"Do you ever wonder what it’d feel like to just disappear?" "Every day. But then I think about who would miss me… and that’s the problem. It’s never you."

"If I had known what loving you would cost me, I wouldn’t have done it." "Liar. You’d do it all over again because it’s the only part of you that feels alive."

"I keep trying to hate you. It’d be so much easier if I did." "Don’t worry. I hate myself enough for both of us."

"Sometimes I think you hurt me just to see if I’ll still stay." "Do you blame me? You’re the only thing I’ve ever been afraid of losing."

"Tell me the truth. Do you regret it?" "Every single moment. And yet, I’d do it all again if it meant one more second with you."

"You make it sound so easy. Like walking away is just something you can do." "It is. You just take one step. And then another. Until you can’t feel me anymore."

[ruleofheart]

growing pains — ellie williams

ellie williams x f reader

7k

fluff, angst, smut >O<

ellie if nothing bad happened to her ever, childhood friends to acquaintances(?) to lovers, longing, joel is involved, ellie is a DWEEB! but so are you, car sex, classic misunderstandings

to the lovely folks that asked to be tagged, i hope this meets your expectations… i am terrified of failing you: @macaroni676 @d3sperationn @g3latin

beta read by @heartofrhea my best friend my apologies for being cringelord

The universe can be so cruel. 

You sit at the edge of the curb, curling your legs to yourself to feel less vulnerable. Your phone rolls in your hand, tears of frustration prickling at your eyes. You probably should’ve known better. Well— you do know better. That sinking, intuitive feeling had been swirling in the center of your stomach all night, but you had let your desperation and loneliness take ahold of you. 

You had agreed to go out with some friends and some friends of friends; people you didn’t know jackshit about, but hung out with anyway. You had hoped you didn’t reek of seclusion too bad, feeling like a wounded animal in a crowd of predators. 

But your friends and their friends didn’t really care. They had pulled away from you in the club, losing you to flashing lights and crowded bodies. You searched up and down, called their names in the dingy bathrooms, and even asked the bartender. No dice; you were here to party alone. Now what was the point of even coming along?

Silly.

You initially opted to order an Uber to just get the fuck off the street already, but hey— it’s a Friday night and finals are over. The prices listed cost more than six different coffee runs, and there’s no way you’d be giving those up. 

It’s how you end up sitting on the curb and fervently wiping your tears away, cringing when you remember your hands had been touching all the club door handles and god knows what else. You feel dirty, forgotten. 

You unlock your phone and dim the brightness— the stupid thing almost all out of battery— and turn to what seems to be a last resort, an option that you’ve buried away at the back of your mind for years now.

Pressing your phone to your ear, you can’t help but sigh as the line rings repeatedly, almost positive that you’re completely out of luck. 

It falls silent for a second before there’s faint rustling on the other side, and a voice so familiar, so painful to hear, questions you softly. 

“Ellie,” you say breathlessly; from fatigue or relief, you’re not sure anymore. “Can you come get me?” 

Becoming friends with Ellie Williams was almost too easy. 

That’s just how she is as a person. So easy to be around; her voice and twinkling laugh showing no threat. 

It began with Mrs. Sullivan’s freshman class seating chart; a table of four with you, Ellie, and two other boys who were too preoccupied with copying off each other’s notes half the time for you to even remember their names. You mostly kept to yourself as a weird adolescent, the onslaught of teenage hormones and emotions forcing you into your own little world. 

Ellie, on the other hand, was different. She had noticed the front page cover of Savage Starlight slipped into the front sleeve of your binder, the edges frayed and jagged as if you had actually ripped it off. She was almost offended at the sight of such a careless pull, but found the emotion wavering once she realized you read the comics just like her. 

“Hey! No way!” she had exclaimed with a growing smile, her eyes lit up. She had half a mind to just reach over and take your binder, fingers skimming over the glossy cover. She stopped herself mid-way, mind racing before she asked with just as much glee, “Can I see? I don’t think I’ve been able to get ahold of that edition yet.” 

Your short-lived conversations about Savage Starlight began to transform into lunchroom giggle sessions and bike rides on the way home. She was so easy to fall into; it was almost like she had a part of herself that was reserved just for you, eager for your arrival.

The thing about your dynamic was that it was so intricately woven over time, each thread of yourself intertwining with her own as you came to know each other better. Unabashed adoration and excitement with every laugh, with every moment of eye contact across the classroom and dinner table at home: a twinkle of unwavering youth and closeness.

And the thing was, when it came to you, Ellie was not prideful at all. She would openly admit any given moment that there had to be a hole in her heart that was in the shape of you. The two of you fit so nicely in each other’s lives, slipping into a familiar rhythm that almost seemed karmic, even at such a young age. While you were surrounded by other girls your age navigating their own pent up emotions and typical coming-of-age realizations, turning against each other and whispering dirty secrets, Ellie only seemed to cling onto you— hanging onto your every word with sincerity and trust.

It didn’t take long before Ellie began to invite you over to sleepovers, which was new territory for both her and Joel. He was already a little awkward as-is, navigating life with a teenage girl who had the same foul mouth and temperament as he.

So when you came around, greeting him with little smiles and kind language, he couldn’t help but feel his heart sway in relief, happy that Ellie has someone like you in her life. 

You’d tumble off your bikes, leaving them strewn across the front yard, crushing the grass he labored so hard over. But he didn’t mind, relieved to see the two of you arrive in one piece, losing yourself in video game releases and comic book pages as you both sat in her bedroom. 

Joel became a sort of fly on the wall for you two, ever-present as you were fairly comfortable in their home. Tuning the both of you in and out, listening closely for anything that may alarm him (which, never happened). Sitting across the both of you at the dinner table, serving up a quick and easy bowl of Hamburger Helper to you two. He’d glance at the two of you from under his eyelashes, watching how either you or Ellie would lean into each other as you splayed out homework sheets on the table, muttering to each other in curiosity. The two of you may have been better off sharing a single chair, he’d think to himself in amusement. 

Again, your presence in Ellie’s life and in his home never worried him. It became routine for him as well, watching the two of you bike up the block together almost every day after school. 

One hot summer afternoon, he stood on the porch, prying off the entrance screen door in an attempt to replace it, the critters from the greenbelt nearby winning at their efforts to nibble away at the material. 

From afar, he could hear the growing sound of your chattering, your bike chains clicking repeatedly as you breezed down the sidewalk. He glanced over his shoulder, watching as you two fought amicably, reaching out to each other in a playful attempt to push the other off their bike. He chuckled to himself and turned his gaze back to the screen door, fingers prying at the edges. 

Behind him, Ellie reached a little too far to the side, fingers brushing against your arm before she toppled over sideways off her bike. She collapsed with a laugh-yelp, swearing at you in a way that made you burst out laughing, your shoes dragging across the concrete to stop your bike. 

You hopped off your seat, carelessly letting it fall to the side as you approached Ellie, laughing at her as she pushed herself off the ground. 

“You idiot,” you breathed out in between laughs, nearly folding in on yourself as the incident repeated in your mind. 

“Dude!” she scolded lightheartedly, trying to feign annoyance, and of course failing. She stuck out her arm to show you a deep scrape right above her elbow. “This shit burns.” 

You caught your breath and stepped closer, eyeing the scrape. It was rather gnarly, and you inwardly winced at yourself knowing it was probably going to scab horribly.

“Damn,” you muttered to yourself, holding her arm and twisting it to get a better look. Joel eyed the way you two interacted, pulling away from his task as he glimpsed the bloody splotch on Ellie’s elbow. 

From where he was, he couldn’t exactly make out the words that you two exchanged, your voices lowered significantly. From the look of it, you were offering an apology. He didn’t catch the way you smiled up at her apologetically, but he was positive that his mind wasn’t playing tricks on him when you leaned in and placed a harmless, healing kiss onto her arm, right above the scrape.

It was, in reality, lighthearted and childish. A testament to your playfulness, your eagerness to please Ellie’s heart. 

And although Ellie didn’t realize it, there was a flicker of emotion that crossed her face. A change in her eyes; in the way that she looked at you. It flew over your head, too; busy smiling up at her, pulling her closer with the strength of the sun’s gravity. 

But Joel noticed. He caught this sudden change, this glimmer on Ellie’s face. He felt the complexities of youth and new emotion washing over him again, a short chuckle leaving his lips as he turned away, focusing back on fixing the screen door. 

Later that night, he pulled Ellie aside. 

“Hey, kid. I’m gonna need you to keep the door open when she’s around, alright?”

“What?” Ellie asked, utterly oblivious. A look of distaste flittered across her features. 

He was trying to remain as nonchalant as possible, knowing all too well that if he pushed too hard or looked too stern, Ellie would just defy him out of her own stubborn nature. He folded some blankets over the couch, eyes avoiding hers. “Just keep it open, Ellie.” 

She groaned in annoyance and threw her head back, hands falling to her sides. She looked truly exasperated, confused with this sudden change in house rules. 

That night, as the door remained cracked open, Joel walked by Ellie’s bedroom to sort some towels in the hallway closet. His ears picked up her frustrated tone; “…wants me to leave the door open now. Never heard of a rule as stupid as that, but whatever.” 

You giggled calmly, then fell silent for a second. “It’s okay. My mom has that rule too, for my brother and his girlfriend.” 

And he could almost hear the way Ellie’s face scrunched up, a confused groan escaping her again. She failed to reply, and the topic at hand was dropped as soon as you leaned over to her and showed her a page from a new comic, rambling on about how the plot hole in this series was diabolical. 

He silently walked away, mind wandering as he tried to think about how to approach this blooming situation, a flicker of both hope and protection illuminating in his chest. 

It was junior year of high school when the foundation of your friendship began to split, allowing something else to slip into it. Something sneaky, deceitful, something that constantly rendered you speechless and warm. 

You no longer rode your bikes or shared comic books; you were much too old for that now! Ellie had just gotten her license, a little too eager to drive Joel’s old beat up truck around with you in the passenger seat. And, of course, the both of you felt like true teenagers when you finally got phones.

You sat on Ellie’s bed, your knees pulled to your chest as you scrolled through your timeline. You giggled at random collages of pictures and videos, occasionally showing your screen to Ellie in hopes that she would laugh with you. 

She sat on the other end of the bed, a rolled joint held delicately in her fingers. Joel wasn’t home, and her bedroom door was closed. The walls of her bedroom trapped the both of you with the smell of it, but you were slowly learning to not mind it as much. 

When you first received a phone, you found yourself diving into social media, trying to keep up with this sudden boom of a new language, new jokes, new form of communication. Ellie, on the other hand, never touched her phone. If she was using it, it was probably because she was texting you. She refused to engage with any social media at all, meaning you had to sit and explain new jokes and trends to her. Sometimes, she’d try her hand at new lingo or an ongoing joke, but failed so miserably each time that you’d roll over her bedsheets in laughter. 

She pressed the joint to her lips, eyes lazy as she looked at you with longing. The brightness from your screen illuminated your face, emphasizing every beauty mark and freckle. 

“Hey,” she started, voice low. “C’mere.” 

You looked up at her in curiosity, putting your phone down. Your eyes stayed trained on her as you scooted closer, the sides of your legs pressing against hers. 

She wasn’t sure if it was the smoke or the way that you peered up at her that made the center of her body feel warm. She tilted her head away from you as she exhaled, the smoke clouding the space between you two; your heart thundered in your chest. 

“Almost done,” she promised, voice only a little raspy. “Missed you; that thing is hoarding all your attention.” The corners of her mouth twitched. 

“Is not!” you defended, shoving her shoulder with your own. “I’m right here.” 

“Yeah,” she began, her hand coming up to tap at your head playfully. “But you’re not here. Let’s do something; been wanting to play a few rounds of that old zombie game.”

It was how you end up pressed into each other’s sides, hollering and giggling at the tiny TV screen on her bedroom dresser. You played erratically, your fingers relying on nonsensical button smashing to survive. Ellie had to constantly revive you every five minutes, but never mentioned it. 

She missed the way you squealed in anticipation with every new round that started, your eyes wide as you spoke with a constant smile. And, maybe it was from her high, but she was a little too intent in the way that she watched you, her mind feeling far away as she memorized every crevice of your face from the side. 

“Ellie!” you scolded, bringing her out of her daze. “No way you already died, the round just started!” 

She turned her attention back to the screen, scoffing as her player screen was black and white, her character eye-level with the ground. 

“Damn,” she muttered, surprised that she let herself slack off for so long. Too lost in your side profile, the dip of your lips, the way your lashes fluttered in surprise when a zombie attacked you in-game. 

Your character raced towards her, shooting around sloppily before you pressed the buttons to revive her. Her hand found itself on the top of your thigh, right above your knee. Perhaps it was the fogginess of her mind, or a newfound boldness that spurts through her; but she squeezed at your leg, her eyes stuck on the screen. “Thanks,” she says a little too nonchalantly, like that was completely normal. 

You swallowed thickly, your own movements faltering. There was a red ring forming around your player screen, indicating that you were being ruthlessly attacked. 

She snickered, her voice playful. “Focus.” 

The two of you kept on, your mind instead slipping up and focusing a little too hard on the way she touched you. 

It was senior year when that particular, sneaky something begins to widen the cracks in your relationship. A feeling that blurred your vision, blurred your mind. A feeling that made it impossible to correctly decipher whatever it was that Ellie was going through, and the two of you began to fall apart. 

It mostly started when Ellie got a job at a skate shop. For the most part, it was relaxed, her days consisting of seeing the same people come and go for wheels and decks. But it meant that she had less time to spend with you. 

Initially, she would use every single day off to see you. To invite you over or to laze around on your fluffy duvet, listening to you ramble about your nervousness as graduation was approaching. She would take you out, spoil you rotten with the excitement of her new paychecks, saying fuck all to saving any money. 

And in reality, you didn’t care about the way she spoiled you; granted, it was nice and certainly made your heart beat a certain way, but you mostly valued that she made the effort to see you still. Exchanging silent words and looks across the classroom was no longer sufficing your yearning heart. 

Months passed and Ellie started to become a little bit more focused on balancing school and work; she was set on saving as college approaches, and you figured that the prospect of growing up had changed her. She was set on a college, set on astrophysics, set on buying Joel some land and maybe, hopefully, spoiling you some more in a few years down the line…

But she was maybe a little too caught up in it. She saw you less and less, accidentally channeling her friendly energy to her coworkers. And while you knew there was nothing wrong with that, you couldn’t help the bitter taste that rested on your tongue when she constantly brought up the names of others that you’d heard of countless times. A part of you wanted to turn to her, ask her so pathetically, why can’t you do the same with me?

You started to really feel like you were losing her when you finally got the chance to sit in her room again, the both of you babbling about what you think college will look like. At first, the comfort of her poster-covered walls and space trinkets settled your restless heart, and you had felt at home with her again. 

It wasn’t until she slipped away to use the restroom, leaving her phone on her bed. The screen illuminated as it buzzed once, twice— three times. You should’ve left it alone, thinking maybe it was Joel warning her he’d be late from work. But you leaned over anyway, reading over the text on the screen.

For one, it was a coworker. You recognized the name on the notification; and for some reason, when you realized it was from the only other girl at her workplace, a horrible feeling nestled into your stomach. 

And then you couldn’t help the minor feeling of betrayal as you realized they had been messaging each other on a social media platform; one of the many things Ellie swore up and down that she’d stay away from. 

You didn’t even follow her on there. She never told you. 

It’s silly, you thought. Ellie can do whatever she pleased. But this new turn of events, this tiny thing that was still so out of character; the foundation between you two felt almost completely severed. 

Weeks passed from that day and you them found yourself pulling away. The both of you were accepted into the same college, but you couldn’t even find it in yourself to feel excited. Ellie begged you to fill out your housing papers on time so that the two of you could be roommates, but you purposefully procrastinated. You weren’t sure you could handle such close proximity with her anymore. 

It was with this that the gap between the both of you widened. She didn’t drive you home anymore; it was time to put your own license to use. You two no longer exchanged knowing looks across the room, and you sure as hell didn’t share dinner with Joel anymore, either. You started to forget the exact layout of her bedroom. 

Graduation came and went; you spent it in solitude, not really counting the presence of your family members. Ellie did race up to you and gave you a bone crushing hug, nose burying into your hair, but you were so caught up in it all that you didn’t reciprocate it. 

It was another one of those minor things that widened the gap, made her step away from you both physically and emotionally. 

Even when Joel offhandedly mentioned that he’d be okay with helping you move into your dorm, Ellie made up some excuse on the fly; saying your brother had it covered. She hadn’t even asked you.

So, just like that, summer passed in a blink. You spent your days curled up in your bed, wallowing. Ellie spent it trying to distract herself, losing herself in the presence of coworkers-turned-close-friends. You shamefully stalked her social media, tears pricking at your eyes as she posted places and things that seem so fun, so far away. Places and things that you would’ve liked. 

What hurt more was the constant questioning from your family. Where’s Ellie? What’s she up to?

Hell if you knew. You’d been relying on her story highlights for snippets of her life, and even then they were still so vague. Scenery, music, her guitar. Someone else’s hands holding a deck of cards, videos with incessant giggling in the background. God, you were almost sickly with both wanting and loneliness. 

And, just like that, it was freshman year again. This time, there was no seating chart. No binder for you to slip comic book covers into. No comfort of hopping on your bike and riding home with the only person that matters at your side. 

You were in some sort of emotional purgatory. Your mind blank as you walked around campus, as you stared at your laptop screen in the dead of night, body aching as you slumped over and completed your coursework. The excitement and late nights that you and Ellie had planned were nowhere to be found. 

On the other hand, Ellie busied herself so much, she found that she almost forgot you. Almost. 

Burying herself into her homework, mind trying its hardest to wrap around these new concepts. Partying, though she wasn’t not really there. Smoking some, drinking some. It all still felt lonely. 

She was enjoying this new group of friends, but they didn’t amount to the certain someone that still had their shape, their initials carved into the center of her heart. It was almost unbearable to exist without you; the two of you blending into each other so well, she still found herself saying things the way you did— the intonation, the little lingo, the mannerisms. Your existence was embedded into her own, folding over into her psyche so compact-tight, she knew she could never escape you. 

Ellie assumed that now, at this point, it was about carrying you in her soul even though you were no longer around. The beauty of this life; she’d lost you, but not entirely. Your personality reflecting in her own no matter what, no matter how hard she tried. Her existence was a testament to your own— someone’s been here. Someone’s loved me. 

Weeks passed. Months passed. The both of you constantly shuffling across the same campus, yet never running into each other. Your text messages now buried underneath more recent threads, your shared playlist long forgotten and neglected. 

Winter break hit and the loneliness bit just as much as the cold. When Ellie returned home, she noticed her old bike in the garage, propped up against storage bins, the tires flat. When you returned home, you came back to photos of the both of you, pinned to your wall. Your breath stuttered in your throat as you took them down, throwing them into a box in your closet. 

At the same time, yet separately, the both of you traversed new grounds, and odd fucked up forms of grief. Being in your own space yet running into things that reminded you of someone that you wanted the most. And it wasn’t not like they were gone; yet the both of you let go, deciding that somehow, it was for the better. 

The cycle repeated as the seasons changed. Instead of actually moving on, the both of you just somehow got better at repressing your emotions and acting like nothing happened. Occasionally reflecting on your friendship in a daydream, and then reminding yourself that somehow, it just wasn’t meant to be. It was time to move on— she was never yours. 

It’s summer now, the end of junior year. Ellie’s at her friend’s place, sipping on a poorly made drink as they play card games and tune into a new season of a trending series. She’s cross-legged on the floor, smiling to herself as her friends talk over each other, slamming the cards down on the coffee table and trying to warp the rules in their own favor. It’s fun, and it’s easy to sit back and watch everything unfold. 

She feels her phone in her back pocket vibrating; assuming it’s Joel just checking up on her, she gets up and excuses herself, slipping out the back porch door. 

When she reaches for her phone, her heart nearly stops beating altogether. In fact, she’s sure it does, as her stomach suddenly twists in confusion and pain, a small cough leaving her lips as she tries to collect herself. Your name shines on her screen as you call, and she’s so sure she’s hallucinating (the hell was in that drink?) until she swallows her surprise and answers. 

And there you are. Breathless, exhausted. Immediately, she knows. Despite it being so long, despite the fact that she’s not entirely sure she knows you anymore, she still recognizes the tone in your voice, recognizes that you needed her. 

“Where are you?” she blurts before you can finish your sentence, her body automatically pacing around. “Send me the address.” 

You’re apologetic, sounding defeated on the other side. You tell her over and over again, I’m sorry.

There’s weight behind the way you say it, like you’re apologizing for something more. Like you’re counting all those times you shut her out, the times you let her slip through your fingers. It’s weak and shaky, but Ellie doesn’t bring it up. She’s too busy slipping on her shoes, keys dangling from her fingers as she mouths to her friends that she’ll see them later. 

She stays with you on the phone the entire time she drives over to get you. She asks, over and over again, if you’re okay and in a safe area, and your heart twists with guilt and shame. You stay planted on the edge of the curb, looking like a wilted flower.

Ellie feels her heart drop to her stomach as she approaches the street that you sit on, her headlights illuminating your pathetic figure. She rolls down the window and pulls over, calling out to you. 

Your eyes are low, the shame blatantly evident on your face. Ellie’s not sure how this will unfold; this isn’t exactly the way she dreamed the two of you would reunite. But that look on your face— Ellie knows it well enough. You’re both 15 again, and you’re trying to hide within your own body somehow. She sees the embarrassment, the bitter feeling that sits at the center of your chest. 

You approach her car and observe at her through the window, eyes avoiding her own. You study her form, how much she’s grown. She’s got a new haircut; it’s shorter— gayer. You can almost imagine yourself laughing at her, can almost imagine twirling the short pieces between your fingers. A patch of black ink catches your eye just then, your gaze landing on her forearm. Since when did she get a tattoo? 

She unlocks the door, silently beckoning you in. You slump into the passenger seat, completely defeated, and she reads your body language well enough to know not to pry at the situation. 

She shifts the car into drive but realizes that she doesn’t even know where you live anymore. The car sits there, idle as she tries to figure out what to ask you and how, then you mutter the directions to your apartment, reading her confusion just as well. 

The sound of Ellie’s music is quiet, practically just a gentle hum as the two of you sit, rigid as you keep your gazes locked on the road ahead. You don’t intend to explain yourself or have some sort of emotional come-to-jesus moment with Ellie, figuring that this situation alone is already stressful enough. 

But, she clears her throat and opens her mouth to speak, eyes still locked on the street signs. “You see the trailer for the new Savage Starlight adaptation?” 

You give her an awkward chuckle. “Yeah,” you say, nearly whispering. “Looked like trash, honestly.”

Ellie laughs at that. Laughs. And god, it’s not the kind of laugh that kills her, but it’s a solid one; an honest one. It sounds so good as it erupts from her chest, the sound of it pouring into your ears and over your heart. Christ. 

Your eyebrow twitches and you have to turn your head to look out the window— you can’t let her see the look on your face. You’re sure your eyes are wide and pooling with some sort of desperation. 

And, of course, Ellie catches it. But she just cares too much about you, so she lets all these little thing slip by to keep you comfortable, to keep you with her for even just a second longer. 

The conversation stays trained on little comments, acknowledging new video game releases and comic book trailers as if the both of you are in high school again, caught up in your nerdy obsessions. The air is thick and steady; the both of you dancing around this thinly-veiled attempt to be normal. The smallest things, such as the sound of her clearing her throat, or her hand coming up to scratch at her cheek, make your skin crawl with anticipation. 

You brace yourself for the ball to drop, holding it so tight to your chest, you’re almost suffocating. 

And while there’s no way you’ll drop this act, desperately clutching onto this feeling of faux normalcy, you know Ellie will. She’s much too blunt and forward focused to let you both sit in this awkward, paper-doll like scenario; steadily crafting your sentences, training your eyes to avoid her. 

And, god— it’s almost too easy to let your body relax, to slip back into your old comfortable patterns with Ellie right next to you. Because she’s never been prideful, and never will be, with the way she smiles to herself and breathes: “I missed you. It’s been… really long,” she says the last part with a bittersweet chuckle. “Too long.” 

Your chest caves. Stupidly, eagerly, almost like it wanted to, this whole time. Your body feels prickly and warm, but you school your face to remain somewhat neutral. 

“Yeah,” you offer dryly. “I’m kind of surprised, actually.” 

At that, Ellie tilts her head, fingers fluttering around the steering wheel. “How come?” 

“That, like, you even showed up. And you’re actually being nice and taking me home. I figured you kinda hated my guts towards the end.”

Ellie’s body has a physical reaction to that, and she taps on the brakes by accident. Not hard enough to send the both of you flying forward, but just enough of a push. You whip your head towards her, watching the way she furrows her eyebrows and shakes her head. 

“Sorry. Not trying to be defensive, but why…” She swallows thickly. “Why would you think that? And of me, of all people?”

She’s so, so gentle with the way she says it. Her voice quiet and low, not wanting to scare you away with this sudden confrontation. She reeks of true curiosity and something else that seems like hurt. 

“I just,” you start, trying to gather your words, then pause, not really recognizing where Ellie is driving. “Hold on. Where are you—?”

She pulls into an empty parking lot, stopping the car at an awkward angle, careless about her parking etiquette. 

“I’m sorry. I really just wanna clarify things,” she breathes out, her tone hurried as if you’ll slip and fade away if she doesn’t explain herself fast enough. “But, if you want me to completely fuck off, I’ll take you home. Just tell me.” 

You remain quiet, looking at her with a face that reads half anxious, half eager. A mix of the two, both emotions so similar in nature that maybe it kind of looks like… excitement. 

Ellie turns her body in her seat so that she can face you directly. “I was never tired of you, ever.” She takes in a slow, deep breath, trying to pace herself and keep her voice steady. With you, she can become passionate very quickly, so she needs to remain cool. “If anything, I thought that you felt that way about me. You stopped comin’ around, didn’t even try to room with me, and completely bailed on my attempts to see you. Did I do something?” 

She’s completely disarmed. Her words woven with nothing but good intentions, the look on her face desperate for some sort of reconciliation. She eyes you carefully, and if you looked hard enough, you may have been able to catch the glimmer of want in her eyes. 

Overcome with emotion, you fumble. Too busy with wanting to just defend yourself, swinging around your sword with your eyes shut in the hopes that you won’t get hurt, you don’t even try to match her energy. 

“Well, yeah,” you bite back, not nearly as careful as she was. “You changed. Everything changed. You made other friends, new friends, and just left me behind,” you accuse sharply, not thinking straight. “You… went behind my back.”

Despite the way that you speak to her, Ellie’s face softens. She knows what this is about. She’s too understanding, too willing to do anything to get you back in her life. As the realization slowly dawns on her, her heart flutters both with yearning and a deeper need. 

It’s how you end up pressed against the backseat of her car, her mouth on yours as her hands roam freely around your body. You shut up rather quickly, mind blurring over with the oncoming release of years of pent-up wanting. You tried to keep arguing back at her, and she did nothing but talk to you in that sweet tone, with eyes that scream I love you.

It isn’t that she’s trying to coax you, or anything. It just happened as you begin to increasingly realize that she is not going to fight you; she just wants you. She needs you to know that, she has to make herself clear. 

Fog creeps up the car windows as she presses her knee in between your legs, rocking against you slowly. 

Ellie’s pacing herself; she’s thought about this a few times, guiltily. But in her mind, it’s always been in her bed, her mind crafting the scene of your body, your little sounds. It was like she had to slap her own hand away from herself sometimes. 

So while this isn’t exactly what she had daydreamed it would be, she still wouldn’t complain. Regardless of the situation, you were pressed into her, panting and sighing in ways that made her mind turn to soppy mush, overrun with desire and emotion. 

And, while she’s set on taking care of you and showing you just how much you meant and still mean to her, she can’t help but want to make you admit it too. 

She pulls back from kissing you, her eyes glazed over as she looks at your face. Holy shit.

Skin so warm, and you already look spent. She swallows, suddenly doubting how long she’ll be able to hold off. 

She bites back a satisfied smile before she dips down again, her face hidden in the crevice between your neck and shoulder, kissing all the way down. 

“Take this off,” she murmurs, fingers pulling at the waistband of your skirt. You do your best to follow her orders, cramped up in the seat, pulling your knees towards yourself in an attempt to shimmy out of the fabric. It catches on your ankle, hanging, and you giggle at the state of the situation. Ellie’s heart melts over itself, beating erratically; she’s going fucking crazy. 

You’ve done nothing but moan, twitch, laugh, and flutter your lashes. She hasn’t even felt you yet, hasn’t even seen your body in its entirety. And she’s gone. 

She almost raises an eyebrow at the sight of your skimpy little underwear, but her question catches in her throat. You were at the club, after all. Something sinks in her stomach at the thought of anyone else seeing you like this, observing the way the fabric clings onto you. 

Her fingers massage at your inner thighs, her knee firm in place as she keeps them set apart. Her digits dance right against your core, pressing against the fabric. You twitch, rolling your hips into her, fingers catching on the seatbelt behind you, gripping on for life. She laughs, but not necessarily at you. 

It feels like it takes her years (well, technically) to push your panties to the side, eyes falling hazy as she stares right into you. You’re so vulnerable, you try shutting your thighs close, but she pushes them apart again. 

“I know,” she hushes you, dipping lower to nip at your lips. “I know.” 

Her fingers trace over your folds, and you think you’re about to explode. You hadn’t expected Ellie to be the type to make this agonizing and painful, but you know you probably deserve it after your showcase of attitude. 

She draws her hand back and brings her fingers up to her mouth, sucking on them nonchalantly. A satisfied sigh escapes her as she finally, finally gets to taste you on her tongue. She lets her hand travel back down, and you turn your head to the side, shutting your eyes in anticipation. 

“Look at me,” she commands softly, stopping her fingers right where you want her. 

You nod, giving her the false promise that you will. Ellie sees right through it, and with her free hand she gently grips onto your face, turning you to make eye contact with her. 

She needed to see your face as she fucked you, she needed to know, after so long of wondering, how you looked when facing pure pleasure. 

Your lashes flutter, eyebrows screwing together as she slips her fingers inside your warmth, pressing the heel of her palm against your clit. She’s gentle in the way she stretches you out, working you through it with such care and patience. 

Ellie revels in the way your chest heaves already, pupils blown out with bliss. She moves her knee and lets you shut your thighs together, trapping her hand in place. 

“This is all you needed, huh?” she teases, her voice only a little prickly, but her smile says otherwise. “For me to touch you like this.” 

You nod silently, too busy biting on your bottom lip and rocking your body onto her fingers to reply. 

“Answer me,” she demands with the same softness, setting the tone. Her gaze is locked onto your face, memorizing every twitch of your brow, every whine that leaves your lips. 

It’s almost ridiculous how brainless you are already, melting beneath her entirely. 

“Needed you,” you manage to breathe out, nodding your head again. “So bad.”

Ellie hisses a swear, and she can’t help the way she leans into you, pressing her body against yours. She curls her fingers inside of you, the palm of her hand nudging at your eager bud. She groans to herself as she feels your walls twitch around her digits, her head dropping low as if she has to stop herself from spiraling. She’s hanging on by a thread; a hair, wanting nothing more than to fuck you senseless. But it’s been too long, and she’s got something to prove to you. 

Her eyes shine as she feels your body grow tense, your wriggling becoming more constant. She slows down her pace, watching closely as your mouth drops, a pout playing at your lips. 

“Please,” you begin, and she smiles. 

“Please what?” 

“Please, fucking just,” you try grinding on her fingers, lashes fluttering. “Oh my god,” you sigh, that little attitude trickling in your tone. 

She scoffs, almost meanly. She stops her movements entirely, fingers falling slack in your pussy. “Yeah? Do it yourself, then.” 

And to her surprise, you do. That attitude is wiped clean from your voice as you whimper pathetically, body rolling, walls fluttering as you try to fuck yourself with her fingers. She stares at you in awe, throat running dry. 

It takes her a second, but she blinks and she’s falling back into you. Watching as you desperately chase your release, bumping your clit onto her hand, and you absentmindedly grab onto her arm, trying to anchor yourself. 

She sucks her teeth and sighs to herself. She had intended to drag this out, to make you beg, to make you say that you were hers all along. But with the way you hold onto her, shamelessly rutting your hips, her name falling off your lips like a prayer— she already knows it’s all true. 

She’s kind enough to start thrusting her fingers again, moaning at the way your slick bundles at your entrance, coating her fingers and slipping down her hand. It’s obscene, but she doesn’t care. In fact, it gives her more of a reason to clean you up afterward. 

“Ellie,” you breathe suddenly, your little prayers becoming less coherent as a certain feeling creeps around, engulfing your body and mind. “I’m gonna cum,” you whine shamelessly, the heat in your stomach spreading lower and lower, your body tingling. 

She leans over you again, watching over your face as your eyes slip shut. 

“Go ahead, baby. Let me hear you.” 

It’s a demand but she still says it so softly, a certain tenderness behind her words. You choke on your own moan, body practically seizing as your thighs tighten, fingers digging into her arm. You chant a repeated I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, and Ellie smiles as you do anyway, your cunt swallowing her fingers with your release. 

Her hand relentlessly slaps against your core, even though you begin to tear up and beg for her to stop. She smiles to herself before she slowly drags her fingers out of you, bringing them back up into her mouth. 

It’s not nearly enough. While you slump back into the seat, panting, body still shaky from such strong sensations, she’s busy maneuvering her body to sit on the floor of the car and propping your legs onto her shoulders. 

You blink as you slowly come back to reality, your mind hazy. 

“Ellie,” you start softly, reaching out your hand. 

She reaches up and intertwines your fingers, eyes locked on your dripping cunt as her voice carries over to your ears. “I’m right here. Can’t let it go to waste.” 

Your eyes roll back, another string of moans escaping you as Ellie shuts her eyes and latches onto your clit, moaning into your pussy. 

The hours of the night escape both of you, becoming lost in each other in the back of her car, cementing your fate. 

Ellie laughs at your blank expression, her hand rubbing down her face in disbelief. 

“That was so… garbage. Beyond garbage. Landfill levels of trash,” you say weakly, the soft lights of the movie theater reflecting off your face. 

She continues giggling at your side, hand over her mouth in an attempt to be quiet despite the fact that the movie is already over. 

You playfully swat at her arm, turning to her, face ridden with shock. “There’s no way you’re not disappointed! This shit was such a waste of money. We were better off pirating it.” 

She shakes her head and smiles to herself, hand wrapping around your own as she pulls you to stand up with her. “I think it was well worth it; it was, like, funny bad.” 

You stand, wrapping your arm around her own as you two trail down the steps of the theater. You continue picking the movie apart, disdain in your voice. You have a reason to be passionate; this lazy attempt at turning Savage Starlight into a box office success had taken a terrible turn, the movie filled with stupid one-liners and god awful acting. 

You should’ve known; it’s been a month since the trailer dropped— or, since you and Ellie came back together. A month of everything falling into place, the pieces of your individual lives slipping back into the way they used to be. A month of constant, whispered confessions, making up for lost time; lovelorn kisses, touches fueled by years of yearning. Pursuing your lives together again, and of course, falling back into your geeky little habits— the one thing that brought you together in the first place, anyway.

You shouldn’t have walked in with such high expectations after the both of you predicted how awful it was gonna be once you both sat down to rewatch the trailers together. 

As the two of you make it outside of the building, Ellie bites her cheek at the way you continue to ramble, the passion in your voice making her heart swell. There is just too much to adore about you. 

“Hey,” she starts, voice low. 

You raise your eyebrows. “What?”

Ellie nods her chin in the direction of her car, mischief written all over her face. “I know a way to give you a happy ending.”

You groan in annoyance, pushing her away. Your voice rings out and into her ears, settling her restless heart as you scold her, a smile showing through.

“Ellie!”

[gyuswhore]

Cherry Picker [teaser]

part of the winter with you collab hosted by @camandemstudios!

Choi Seungcheol x reader

est. word count: um 30k (?) EDIT: projecting near 20k [see reblogs]

est. release date: January 10th

warnings: Hockey player! Seungcheol, figure skater! reader, *deep breath* ENEMIES TO LOVERS, angst, fluff, smut [MINORS DNI], more to be added in final post

synopsis: Cherry Picking [ice hockey]: a manoeuver in which a player, the floater, literally loafs (spends time in idleness) or casually skates behind the opposing team's unsuspecting defencemen while they are in their attacking zone. There wasn't much you counted on in life; just your skates, your drive and how it felt to win. And of course, your local ice rink, that is now being colonised by an obnoxious hockey team in all their big, loud, stinking glory. Neither does it help that one particular red donned specimen forgets to leave his cherry picking on the ice.

‼️ JOIN THE TAGLIST by sending an ask or replying under this post. AGE INDICATORS ON YOUR BLOG ARE NECESSARY. ‼️

[a/n]: I first wrote hockey player Cheol quite literally a full year ago and I promised to expand on the concept, so here we are!!! im so excited for y'all to read this bc im genuinely putting my heart and ass into this fic. lmk your thoughts about the teaser!!! please remember to support the rest of the fics coming out in association with the winter with you collab, all of these writers are working so hard to bring you fics you're going to love 🥹

masterlist

The ice is empty, mostly. Placing your laptop in the sound booth and your shoes under the benches, you step foot on the ice. They’re there, on the other end, sitting on the cold ice with their jerseys still on, eating what looks like cups of dippin dots. 

Seungcheol and Jeonghan, you remember from Lorelai’s squealing, either don’t notice you on the ice, or simply choose not to. Because it’s easy as you skate up to them, gaining speed from across the rink, you slide to a stop, sending a perfect spray of ice from your skates, directly into their cups. 

Seungcheol’s full spoon hangs mid air, halfway to his mouth, now garnished with ice shavings. 

“Thought you’d have the respect to keep the dippin dots out of this,” Jeonghan comments, disbelief in his eyes as he looks up at you. 

“Ice is booked.” 

“What time?” Seungcheol asks. Your gaze flickers to the left side of his face, a nasty bruise blooming purple and blue that you hadn’t noticed before. 

“Two sixteen. It’s nearly fifteen minutes past.”

“You’re only one person.” 

“And?”

“And…you have about 97% of the rink to yourself.”

You raise your brows, hands on your hips. “But I booked 100% of it. So I’m gonna need that plane of ice you’re currently sitting on.” 

“What if I don’t move?” Seungcheol presses. It’s menacing, the way he looks at you, like he’s a dragon only waiting to be provoked. 

“We’ll find out another day,” Jeonghan sings before you can snap back, grabbing onto the collar of Seungcheol’s red and white jersey to yank him up. He continues to glare as he obliges with his friend’s tugs, nearly as angry as you are. “Let’s go, sport.”

You watch as they walk to the exit of the ice, realising they’re wearing their shoes instead of their skates. 

Jeonghan calls from the benches, right before he and Seungcheol move out of view. “Trash those for us, would you?” 

Their half eaten dippin dots cups, with the ice now melting on them remains on the floor of the rink. 

Once again, the unexplainable urge to kick something befalls you, hearing them laugh and talk from far away as they exit the rink behind their long gone teammates. 

You give in, swinging a leg over to kick the cups and spoons, dippin dots and plastic scattering across the ice. It’s another sprawl of mess you’ll have to clean up, but it feels good to ruin something of his, no matter how inconsequential. 

The empty rink is only encouraging you, needing to scream so loud the plastic barriers crack and break. You know it’s impossible, but that doesn’t stop the urge. 

You channel it into the most aggressive warmups on ice you’ve ever done. Your spins are faster, your jumps higher. But this also means you crash heavier, fall harder. 

It’s then, sitting on the bench to take a break, breathing so heavy you can hardly sip your water, you find an unmistakable headline on your browser home page. 

Everything stops. 

!HOT TOPIC! 

SEAT AT RISK FOR SVT HOCKEY TEAM’S SHINING STAR? Read All About It Here!

[mossyivy]

NSFW ALPHABET

[DI! Leon S Kennedy Edition]

❗Minors Do Not Interact ❗

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

Cuddler, massive cuddler. Honestly I see Leon as enjoying his partner being cuddled up to his chest but as long as you're touching each other he really doesn't mind. He just needs to be grounded after sex because he's not use to intimacy. (Remember y'all, aftercare in important FOR EVERYBODY INVOLVED DOM/SUB/SWITCH WHOEVER!!!)

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

Definitely proud of his arms. Man's got two pythons where his forearms are supposed to be. I'd be proud of those bitches too. It also doesn't help how often you tend to cling to them, admire them while cuddling up together or compliment how they look when he flexes.

When Leon's asked the good old "tits or ass?" question older than time itself he smirks and simply says thighs. He loves something plush to nap on when he comes home from work. He always says it'll be a quick 30 minute nap but he's always out for 3 hours when he's laying his head on your lap. They're just such a nice pillow and even nicer wrapped around his head.

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

Usually prefers finishing inside. If not then on your stomach. There's just something mesmerizing about watching his cum slowly drip out of you on down your belly that just makes him so horny that he can't get enough of you.

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

Okay... So you send Leon pictures and he saves them. (He'd never share them though) But he secretly has an album in his phone labeled as WORK meticulously organization so that when you open the album it has important looking photos but if you scroll far enough it's just things you've sent him. Nudes, videos, even screenshots of steamy texts.

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

Decently experienced. Enough to get him by but also good at listening to his partner. Takes criticism well in the bedroom. Just wants his partner to have a good time and show that he loves you.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

On your side or anything he can see your face. He's often tired so slow easy strokes on his side and using his hands is right up his alley. But for when he's feeling more energetic he's definitely up anything he can see your reaction with. He aims to please and the man is a good shot.

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

Definitely 50/50. Leon can crack jokes when his life is at risk I'm sure he'd probably say something goofy to make you laugh or even something stupid like "come here often?" When you're changing positions and his creaky body pops or cracks he'll say some smart ass comment about the bed makes weird sounds again.

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

Definitely trimmed. Leon doesn't strike me as a massively hairy guy to begin with. But what hair he does have is well kept.

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

Intimacy is his favorite part of it all. Very tender and soft compared to what he is during work. Enjoys the touching the most. He's very touch starved. Cuddle him and he'll melt into a puddle. He LOVES being little spoon.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Jerks off often. Uses it as a stress relief thing but doesn't do it as often when he gets a partner. But I do think when he's away on cases and he has downtime at night he tends to call his partner and have phone sex.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Begging, biting, breeding, dirty talk, edging and roleplaying

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere at home. Leon would most likely be super hesitant about doing anything outside of the house and risking criminal record.

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

His partners touch. Leon just really likes being touched. If you mostly just kiss him and move to his neck (it's sensitive, that's why he rarely wears anything that constricts his neck) you'll get him going in no time.

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

No hitting, nothing with feet, no bathroom related stuff, no voyeurism or exhibitionism and no humiliation

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

50/50. But definitely more giving in the oral department. Uses it as a form of foreplay. Enjoys it because he loves hearing your slowly break and cry for him.

Sometimes he's just to exhausted to fuck so those are the times he'll just straight up tell you to sit on his face. He doesn't care if you're bigger, he knows you're not gonna hurt him. If you try hovering her will definitely wrap his arms around your thighs and pull you down on him. The man is skilled with his mouth and hands. So be prepared for the time of your life.

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

Definitely slow sensual type of guy. He likes making every moment last. But there's definitely been a flurry of passion after gets back from particularly long cases.

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

If he has to go out for work and he has a little bit of time before leaving, most definitely he'd be down for a quickie.

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

He's fine with experimenting but not often.

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

Good for 3 rounds unless he's super tired. Last decently long, always makes sure his partner gets off first each time.

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

Oh Leon definitely owns one of those vibrators that work with apps. Sometimes when he's due to come home and he knows you have it in you he'll just tease you on the way home.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Usually Leon doesn't tease but when he's in a particular frisky mood, he will make beg to cum. And he doesn't care if you want it. If you don't beg like he wants he will make you wait and keep bringing you to the edge over and over like an asshole.

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

Not loud in the slightest but he's definitely not scared to moan or whimper. Even curse under his breath, especially if he has you on your side and he's right in your ear.

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

Said I love you for the first time during sex. Was mortified with himself, he meant it but was extremely embarrassed. Apologized profusely and told you he did mean it. And thankfully you love him back, obviously.

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

Ah yes, python 3. I'll be honest, I'd say he's at the higher average end in size but makes up for it in girth... Like a fucking coke can.

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

Leon had little to no sex drive but once you two got into a relationship he's like a teenage boy again. Can barely stop from wanting you all the time. But he's still more of the romantic intimate type and would rather just exist with you than constantly be at each other.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He clings onto life afterwards. Just wants to make sure you're taken care of but the second you relax against him he's down for the count. Like a god damn bear in hibernation.

[bunni-v1]

First Years Finding Out Your A Girl?!?! (NOT CLICKBAIT!!!)

TW: Mild swearing, STRICTLY Female Reader, Discussion of Jack having a good sniffer (lol)

Info: Headcannons; Ace, Deuce, Jack, and Epel x Reader (platonic); Mostly for fun

🍓Hi. I'm back... sorta. I didn't have much time to write over the summer, and I honestly don't know how much I can write during school cause my schedule is... yikes. But I picked up something I wrote a while ago, edited it, and decided to post it. I'll be answering whatever's in my ask box right now, and then maybe work on some other stuff.

Ortho & Sebek

Second Years

Third Years

Dorm Leaders

-Okay so, I know we’re all wondering, how the hell do you get away with hiding your gender for so damn long?

-Firstly, those ceremonial robes do great at hiding the figure. The only tell would maybe be your hair, but feminine men aren’t unwelcome at Nightraven College, so you mostly get a few questioning stares and that’s it.

-Secondly, Crowley wants to save his own fucking ass. He already has to hide from the press that he has a MAGICLESS student from ANOTHER DIMENSION here, he doesn’t need the fact that you are a woman ALSO on his plate. So, obviously, he helps you hide your gender from others.

-Grim knows, of course, and he keeps his mouth shut for a few yummy cans of tuna (and threats of being expelled from Crowley <3)

-Even when you were just a janitor, he couldn’t have the rumor that he put a “helpless” young woman to work. (Like it wouldn’t be expected.)

-So how do you two do it?

-Baggy ass uniform. Crowley gave you at least three sizes too big.

-Your figure is completely hidden. Sure, you look completely homeless, but at least you’re hidden.

-For your voice, you simply deepen it. After some point, you blackmail Crowley into giving you a potion to help with it, since it's so taxing on your voice. (Or maybe your voice is naturally deep!)

-Sam provides you (for an unfairly pretty penny (not too different from your original world…)) any feminine hygiene products you might need.

-Honestly, you’re set for being cared for, but it’s the adjustment period that’s the hardest part. 

-Truly, it’s very jarring to suddenly be thrown into both a magical world and be isolated in a man's world with nowhere to hide.

-At least in your world you had other women who could understand your struggles. Here though? You’re completely alone.

-You notice how… messy some of these guys could be. How some of them smell… really rancid. -How rough they were with you and each other.

-Honestly, it’s kinda eye-opening. The way men show affection to each other is oddly refreshing to watch and experience!

-Ace and Deuce specifically are a good… trial run.

-That’s not what we’re here to talk about though…

-For the most part, it's incredibly easy to hide yourself for the first while on campus. Everyone on campus is so self-absorbed that they don’t bother questioning you.

-Your only real risk factor is Savannaclaw, but it's easy to avoid those guys (minus Jack, of course, but we’ll get to him).

-However, you can only hide your gender for so long… It’s mentally draining to keep up this facade all the time around people you care about.

-So… how do they find out?

FIRST-YEAR SQUAD

Ace

-He’s one of the first ones who find it out, and it’s in the very cliche anime way.

-After some point of knowing you, Ace is so comfortable that he just invites himself into ramshackle. 

-It’s never been an issue or anything. You’re thick as thieves now, you’ve survived death together a handful of times. If you ask Ace, that’s about as close as you can get with someone.

-Normally, you and Grim are just sitting around in the living area, but this time you aren’t. However, he does hear voices coming from your room. His curiosity is peaked.

-So, slippery guy that he is, he sneaks up to your room and his curiosity only grows when he hears a woman’s voice. Prefect getting lucky? And he didn’t tell him? Ace thought you guys were friends.

-He creeps up to your room, slides open your door, and!!! Holy shit it’s you. It’s you in a towel. It’s you and you’ve got tits?!?! 

-His first reaction is to… well… scream.

-“You’re a girl?!?”

“Why are you in my room???”

“You’ve got- boobs!”

 “Get out Ace!”

-Bro sits very politely and very quietly on your couch after that. Deep behind his blank stare, he is seething. You were a girl this whole time, and you didn’t tell him! He thought you guys were friends!

-He definitely fights you about it once you’re down and dressed. He’s just salty, he’ll get over it. 

-Swears up and down he won’t tell anyone.

-Immediately tells Deuce.

-That's it though! Deuce is part of the main quartet, he deserves to know! (You scold him for this too, but you figured it would happen one way or another).

-From him finding out, he doesn’t really treat you differently. You’re still a person, why should he act differently cause you’ve got different body parts than him.

-Though, and he won’t admit this, he’s a bit more… watchful of the others around you. Yeah, you can hold your own and he respects you… but guys like Azul exist, and he’s seen firsthand the torture Azul is capable of. 

Deuce

-As stated before, Ace outs you to Deuce almost immediately after finding out.

-Deuce, in all his awkward glory, completely shuts down. Disconnects from this plane of existence. He cannot believe the news he was just told.

-You, one of his best friends in all of twisted wonderland. You, the person who survived multiple overblots alongside him. You, who have seen him at his most vulnerable… are a girl.

-It isn’t even the fact that you’re a girl, it’s the fact that you kept this a secret from him for so long. You guys are… bros… how could you possibly hide something so important from him. Did you not trust him?

-Yeah… he overthinks things quite a bit.

-He also ambushes you the very next day with a million questions (very loudly (very in public)), to which you calm him down and reassure him that “No, Deuce, I don’t suddenly hate you. I wasn’t hiding it from you maliciously. I was going to tell you at some point, I just hadn’t had a good time to.”

-Deuce’s behavior definitely… changes… in some ways. 

-Deep down he knows you’re a kick-ass bitch and you don’t need to be cared for, but he can’t help but want to. 

-It’s definitely his mommy issues in play here.

-He just becomes more… protective and aware around you. Not in a creepy obsessive way, just in the same way a guard dog would. 

-Like Ace, he’s more than aware of what the people on this campus are capable of, and you’re completely magicless on top of being more feminine. Some guys at NRC would hop on an opportunity like that like nothing.

-He just doesn’t want to see his friends getting hurt okay :(

-It’s like you gained an overprotective older brother who also sometimes barks!

Jack

-Out of everyone, Jack was the first to find out.

-I don’t wanna be the cliche writer but… he’s got a sniffer on him. 

-He definitely could smell that something was up, but he didn’t want to assume! 

-You could be trans, you could be genderfluid, you could be anything other than a woman! It’s not his place to judge, and smell isn’t always the end all be all. You could just really smell feminine and that's how guys come in your world.

-Mr. Respectful would never want to assume anything… but he’s a little curious he won’t lie.

-Jack REALLY found out shortly after Ace, Deuce and Grim got their asses in trouble with Azul. 

-He’d never been given a reason to spend any more than a few minutes around you at a time. However, since he got pulled into this mess, he’s spent a lot more time with you.

-It happened when he was forced to hide under the desk in his office.

-You were so close and you just… smelled like a girl.

-He is so polite and so upstanding, he would NEVER ask you directly. But the suspense of not knowing really does take a number on him.

-By the end of Azul’s overblotting he is so awkward and nervous around you, that you absolutely have to say something.

-At this point, you figured most of the beastmen had an idea of you being feminine, however, you had no real confirmation of that. 

-Jack is such a “let's not bother other people” kind of guy, that you knew he wouldn’t want to say anything to you if you knew… so you decided to take the plunge.

-At the museum, you pull him aside and you have to ask.

_”Jack?”

“Hm?”

“You know, don’t you?”

“…”

“I figured as much. Don’t tell anyone, m’kay? I want to tell my friends on my terms.”

-It makes Jack respect you more than he already did. Not only did you have the confidence to confront him, but you did it calmly and you were understanding of his position.

-And honestly? Not much changes between the two of you.

-He just respects you a little more. He’s not particularly protective around most other students, he talks to you the same, and he doesn’t act like you’re special. You’re just… a friend. 

-The only thing that he may be different about is other beastmen. He does his best to shield you from them if he feels they might be a threat to your well-being. 

Epel

-Epel, being a more feminine-looking man himself… doesn’t think much of you.

-At this point, you’re well acclimated to things at nightraven college, and are very good at being “one of the boys.”

-His ONLY implication is how… differently Rook and Kalim treat you.

-At this point, Kalim has found out via the previous chapter, and Rook knows because of course he does. (We won’t be getting into that today though)

-They both are more… delicate with you? Rook whips out the charm times ten when you’re around. Kalim, although friendly with everyone, seems to be even MORE friendly when you’re around. Like he wants you to like him.

-Even Deuce and Ace have a few… odd tells.

-They both pointedly ensure Jamil is at least five feet away from you at all times. Glare at Rook when he’s a little too charming.

-Other than that, nothing really gives it away.

-Epel is completely and totally in the dark because you’re really good at hiding that you’re a woman.

-He does, however, eventually find out because… Deuce slips up. He’s there giving his big speech on the beach, hyping Epel up, and somehow he manages, “And the prefect is a woman, but she never lets that get in her way!”

-Epel: Shocked, confused, in awe… says nothing. He lets the information ruminate.

-He lets it ruminate for a very long time.

-So long, in fact, that he doesn’t raise his suspicions until the two of you are on a broom heading off to save Vil’s life.

-The silence was killing him, so he had to ask.

-“Prefect, are you a girl?”

“You didn’t know?”

“I couldn’t be sure, I look like a girl too, so you never know.”

“Yes, Epel, I’m a girl.”

“…Cool.”

-Honestly, he’s kind of jealous of you. You passed better than him, and you had to try harder.

-It doesn’t change how he treats you, honestly. He’s not that kind of country bumpkin, but he won’t lie and say he doesn’t have a little resentment held against you.

-He thinks you’re cool as hell, and you help redefine what femininity can look like to him much better than what Vil does.

-He, however, does actively become more protective of you. 

-Not because he thinks you can’t fend for yourself, but because he kinda wants to show off a little.

[ellieswrldd]

about you

pairing: spiderman!ellie williams x female reader

summary: ellie is living a double life, one of a college student and one of a crime fighting hero. she wants you more than anything but is scared to put you in danger.

content warnings: SMUT 18+ MDNI, oral sex (r!receiving), scissoring, use of alcohol and weed, ellie is kind of a nerdy loser, a little rushed! not proofread

a/n: writing this taught me that i should never try to estimate when i’ll finish something because “posting this week” quickly turned into “posting sometime this month”….sorry lmao. also this is inspired by the 1975 song!!

8:30 am

Good morning New Yorkers!

This was Ellie’s favorite part of the day. A bagel in one hand, the newest edition of Savage Starlight in her other, and her phone playing the morning newscast. 

Today is April 12th and it looks like another beautiful day…

Moments like these were the only times she felt at ease. Her university classes kept her busy and when she wasn’t studying or in class, she was off protecting the city. 

So, sitting on the rooftop of a building where nobody could bother her was Ellie’s idea of peace. 

It was easy to lose track of time while in her spot and Ellie always tried to keep an eye on the time, but it seemed to end the same way almost every day. 

We’re starting to see some traffic down by— 

The reporter was cut off by Ellie’s loud ringtone. She glanced at the caller ID and sighed softly when she saw it was her best friend Jesse calling. 

“Hey man, I’m kinda busy right now—” She said as she took a bite of her bagel. 

“Dude where the hell are you? Class started fifteen minutes ago and we have that big lab today!” Jesse whispered-shouted into his phone. 

“What are you talking about? I don’t have class on Thursday mornings,” She said. 

“Ellie, it’s Friday, we have class today,” Jesse said sharply, clearly irritated by Ellie’s lack of organization. She couldn’t blame him– he always needed her help during labs, and without her, it was likely he’d get a failing grade. 

“Oh shit!” Ellie groaned and began tossing her things back into her backpack. “I’m on my way right now, I swear.” She stated with her phone pressed against her ear by her shoulder. Stuffing her face with the last of her bagel, Ellie slid her backpack around her shoulders and stood up. 

The streets were beginning to bustle with activity and the sky was bright, New York was awake and ready for the day. Ellie pulled her mask over her face and jumped off the roof, flying towards her class with the flick of her wrist. 

—

10 pm

Going out was the last thing on your mind. You were still coping after a messy breakup, and partying didn’t sound like fun. The only reason you found yourself standing in front of a bustling frat house was because Dina had dragged you here. She had made a variety of arguments as to why you needed to come, mostly consisting of “You’ve been too sad, let’s get you laid!” or “I need you to be my wing-woman, Jesse will be there!”. Despite her nagging and desperation, you somehow ended up following her right to the party. 

“Dee I don’t feel great, maybe I should just go back home,” You mumbled and tugged at the skirt you wore. It was Dina’s and it was far too short for your liking. In the past, you loved partying and going out with friends, but at the moment all you wanted to do was curl up in your bed. 

“Just stay for a little bit, I promise you’ll have fun. It isn’t good for you to rot in bed every day anyways,” Dina linked her arm with yours and gave a soft smile. You sighed and nodded, she had a point. 

You stood in the frat, holding a red solo cup close to you. Dina shifted nervously beside you. 

“What if he changed his mind? Maybe he doesn’t want to see me,” She crossed her arms.

“Dina, he’ll show up, don’t worry.” You reassured her. “Have another drink, you need to chill out,” She shrugged and poured herself a drink. 

“Hey, Dina!” A man greeted your friend loudly, a bright smile on his face. Dina grinned and gave him a quick hug. 

“Jesse! I’m so glad you made it, I was starting to think you weren’t going to show,” 

“Sorry, Ellie was taking forever to get ready, slowed us down,” He laughed and shifted his gaze to you. “I’m Jesse, you must be y/n,” 

“Yeah, Dina’s told me a lot about you,” You glanced past him and looked at the girl standing awkwardly behind him. She was staring down at her phone, her lips pursed, clearly not excited to be there. 

“Oh, this is Ellie,” He turned and nudged Ellie with his elbow.

“Hi,” She offered an awkward smile and stood a little straighter. “Sorry, I don’t come to these things very often,” Ellie looked around at the frat, drunk partygoers dancing and screaming, the floor covered in red solo cups and sticky liquids, it wasn’t really her scene. 

“That’s alright, it’s nice to meet you,” You shook her hand. “I’m going to go out and get some air,” You shouted into Dina’s ear and she nodded. Waving to Jesse and Ellie, you pushed past the crowds and made your way outside. 

The cool air against your skin was a relieving change. You leaned against the wall and took a deep breath. It was nice that Dina was looking out for you, but it was honestly overwhelming. 

“Mind if I join you?” You turned to look at Ellie, who stood a few feet away with her hands in her pockets. You simply nodded and tipped your head to the spot next to you. Without all of the flashing lights, you could get a good look at the other girl. A red flannel hung loosely around her frame, her short hair was in a messy half-up half-down style, and her face was covered in light freckles.

Ellie’s eyes lingered on you for a moment before she spoke again. “You look stressed,” 

“I guess that’s one word for it,” You chuckled. She dug her hand into her back pocket and pulled out a neatly rolled joint.

“Jesse gave me this, do you want some?” Your eyes lit up a bit at the sight of the joint and you looked back at her.

“How could I say no to such an offer?” Taking the joint, you held it between your glossy lips. “You got a lighter?” 

Ellie’s eyes widened slightly as she realized she had been staring at your lips. “Ah— yeah, here,” She took the lighter from her pocket and fumbled with it a few times before she got a steady flame. You leaned in and watched as the end began to burn. 

“You don’t smoke much, do you?” You giggled softly as your eyes drifted toward her. She watched you intently and shook her head. 

“No, not really,” You breathed out the smoke and offered her the joint. 

“Do you want to try?” Your voice was soft and sweet, Ellie couldn’t help but take the joint from your fingers. “Just breathe in slowly and then exhale,” She followed your instructions, still watching you as she took a drag. Coughing, Ellie passed it back.

The two of you passed the joint back and forth in silence, staring up at the night sky until you were able to drown out the loud noise of the party. 

“Jesse and Dina are definitely hooking up right now,” You blurted and started laughing. 

“Oh my god they totally are,” She shook with laughter. As your shoulders touched Ellie’s and you laughed until your cheeks grew tired, you realized that you were actually having fun. You hadn’t thought about your ex in hours. 

Eventually, Ellie offered to walk you back to your dorm, and you accepted gladly. 

The walk back was full of mindless giggles and seemingly innocent brushes against one another’s arms. Ellie leaned against the frame of your door as you fumbled with the key. 

“Do you want to come inside?” You muttered with a smile once you managed to get the door open. Ellie’s heart pounded at the offer and she could feel heat rush to her cheeks, but she found herself shaking her head no. 

“I—I’m sorry, I can’t,” She bit her lip and looked down at her sneakers. “I’ve gotta be up early tomorrow for work, but I’ll see you around, yeah?” You tried not to look disappointed but Ellie could see it on your face almost immediately. 

“That’s fine, see ya,” You sighed and closed the door with a small smile. 

Ellie could feel her heart sinking, and she almost regretted her words. Almost. She knew better than to get involved with someone while in her position, she could put you in a lot of danger, and it was too risky. 

The next few days were rough. Ellie seemed to be actively avoiding you for some unknown reason and it felt like Dina and Jesse were too wrapped up in one another to even notice you. Every time Jesse came over to see Dina, he used the same excuse to cover for Ellie’s absence. “She’s busy studying, couldn’t make it today.” 

“Hey, have you seen Ellie lately?” You asked Dina as the two of you walked to class.

“Huh? Oh, no, I haven’t, why?” Dina glanced at her phone before looking back at you.

“Well, I thought we kinda hit it off at the party, but I haven’t seen her since.” You sighed and trained your eyes on your shoes. “I invited her to come inside our dorm, but she said she had work and bolted,” 

Dina looked confused. “That’s weird, she doesn’t work in the mornings,” She shrugged. “I can invite her to come with us to that bar tonight, how about that?” Dina bumped her arm against yours.

“Sure, that’s great,” You smiled, relieved to see your best friend was still looking out for you. Her words stuck with you, why would Ellie lie to you? Maybe she was avoiding you.

That night, Dina got ready with you in your shared dorm. 

“Did she say she was coming?” You asked nervously as you stared at yourself in the mirror. 

“She just liked the message,” Dina snorted and rolled her eyes. “What an ass.”

You sighed. “She’s definitely avoiding me,” 

“I’ll have Jesse drag her ass down to the bar if she doesn’t show, don’t worry babe.” Dina pat your shoulder. “Are you ready to go? I think some of the other girls are there already.” 

“Oh, yeah.” You took one more glance at yourself. You wore a sparkly fitted dress, one that had been growing dusty in your dresser. It was pretty, but a little loud for your taste. “Let’s go before I change my mind,” Dina laughed and nodded.

The bar was busy already, filled with college students and their fake IDs, overpriced drinks in their hands. Dina ordered the two of you some drinks and you stood beside her at the bar. 

You couldn’t help but watch the door as Dina told some exaggerated story. You hated this, the feeling of self-doubt and disappointment that coursed through your body every time a girl let you down. It had only been a few weeks since your last girlfriend dumped you, and yet here you were repeating the same vicious cycle with another girl. 

Just as you were about to make an excuse to leave, the door to the bar opened and Ellie strolled in. She was by herself, fidgeting with her hands nervously as she looked around the room.  

You turned back to Dina before you could meet Ellie’s gaze. You had decided that if Ellie wanted to speak, she would have to come to you first. 

“Hey,” Ellie tapped your shoulder and stood beside you at the bar. 

“Hi Ellie,” You gave her a tight-lipped smile and took a sip of your drink. Ellie glanced at her shoes for a moment before speaking again. 

“Can we talk?” She asked quietly. Was she nervous?

“Sure, yeah, outside?” Ellie nodded and followed you out. 

“Okay, you wanted to talk so let’s talk.” You crossed your arms and faced her once you stood outside. 

Ellie took a deep breath and stuffed her hands in her pockets. “I know this is kind of forward, but I like you, and I want to get to know you better, but—”

“But?”

“I’m just,” She sighed, seemingly frustrated. “I can’t, I can’t be around you,” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” You scoffed. 

Ellie pinched the bridge of her nose as she struggled to think of a reply. 

“It’s not a good idea,” She mumbled.

“You’re still not making any sense,” 

Ellie hesitated. “Can I show you something?” 

“Sure,” 

“You seriously can’t tell anyone about this,” Ellie glanced around. “Like anyone, not a single soul,” 

“Jesus, I get it, Ellie, I’ll keep whatever secret you’re sharing.”

Ellie nodded and took one more look to make sure nobody was nearby. 

“I’m, um, kind of like a superhero of sorts, like I fight criminals and protect people sometimes,” Ellie’s cheeks seemed to burn red as she spoke. “I just— I don’t want you to be put in danger because of it,” 

You stared at her for a moment before you laughed. “Is this some kind of joke? That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard! You’re a superhero? Forget it, I’m going home, Ellie,” You turned away and began to walk toward the bar. 

Ellie reached out and grabbed your arm. “No, I swear I’m not lying, I can prove it!” She said frantically. 

“You can prove it?” 

“I can,” She nodded. 

“Okay, prove it.” Ellie nodded and offered her hand to you. 

“Let’s go to my dorm, I can show you there,” 

“Are you trying to get me to sleep with you?” Ellie rolled her eyes. 

“Not at the moment, no. Would you just come with me?”

“Alright then, let’s go,” 

The walk to Ellie’s dorm wasn’t long, but the tension between you and her made it feel insufferable. 

“Here we are,” She nodded toward the building and unlocked the front door. Ellie led you up a few flights of stairs before finally arriving at her room. 

Ellie’s dorm room was covered in colorful posters and pictures. A small telescope was leaned against the wall by her window, comic books were stacked high on her nightstand, and some science textbooks were left open on her desk alongside scattered papers and assignments. 

“This is cute,” You muttered as you ran a hand along her navy blue bed sheets and looked around the room.

“Oh, thanks. You can just make yourself at home,” She smiled and went to open her closet. 

You sat on her bed and watched her rifle through her clothes. “How do you plan on proving this?” You asked, slightly amused by this whole situation. 

“Just wait and see, I don’t think you’ll find it funny in a minute.” She said, glancing over her shoulder to look at you. Ellie finally pulled out a hanger covered by a black zip-up cover. 

She held the hanger up and unzipped the cover, letting it fall to the floor. Underneath the cover was a bright red and blue suit. 

“What is that? Some sort of cosplay outfit?” You snorted.

Ellie narrowed her eyes at you. Without a response, Ellie slipped off her flannel and started tugging her shirt off. 

“What are you doing?” You gasped and covered your eyes. 

“I’m just changing, don’t cream your pants.” She said sarcastically. Ellie stepped into the suit and pulled it on. 

The suit itself seemed good quality, it was a shiny, bright red with black and blue highlights, and it fit her like a second skin. With a closer look, you could see the little details of the suit were designed to resemble a spider web of sorts. 

“This is what I wanted to show you,” She said and held out her hands. On each wrist was a complicated gadget that wrapped around her wrist and lay in the palm of her hand.

You reached out to touch the device but Ellie pulled her hands away. 

“Don’t touch them, you’ll regret it.” She said with a small smile. 

“What do they do?” 

“I’ll show you,” She walked across the room to her window and pulled it open. “C’mere,” 

You went and stood by her side, an anxious feeling bubbling in your stomach. Ellie reached behind her head and pulled the mask of the suit over her face. 

“Do you trust me?” She asked, her arm snaking around your waist. 

“Do I have a choice?” Ellie laughed and pulled you closer to her side. 

“Hold onto me, and uh— don’t look down,” Before you had time to ask her what that meant, Ellie flicked her wrist and sent the two of you swinging out of her window. 

As you flew through the air, all you could hear was the wind blowing past you and the sound of your screams. It was then that you started to believe that Ellie could be telling the truth. 

“Ellie Williams put me down right now!” You screamed as you watched the buildings fly past you in a blur. 

“Calm down, we’re almost to my spot.” 

Ellie slowed down and stopped on a rooftop. She pulled her mask off. “This is my favorite spot in the city.” Ellie helped you find your feet and kept a hand on your lower back. From the rooftop, you could see the glittering lights of the city life and the usual noise seemed to be quieter. 

“That’s great and all but I think I might vomit,” You let out a shaky breath and sat down. “You wanna explain what the fuck you just pulled?” You looked up at her.

Ellie grinned and sat next to you. “The nausea will pass, just take deep breaths. As for that,” Ellie showed you the gadget on her wrist. “They’re web shooters, I made them myself. They shoot something similar to spider webs, but much stronger.” 

“So what, you’re like a spider-girl or something?” 

“Well, when you say it like that you make it sound childish.” Ellie chuckled.

“Okay Spider-Woman, why is this stopping you from taking me out?” 

“I’m scared,” She sighed. “I already put myself in so much danger by doing this, do you know how much worse it would be if I had to worry about keeping you safe as well? I can’t guarantee that you’ll be protected from everything I deal with, and I can’t even imagine what it would be like for you if I ended up hurt or worse.” 

You stared at her for a moment and reached out to rest your hand on top of hers. 

“You’re forgetting that I’m my own person, Ellie, I can make those decisions for myself. You don’t have to protect me, I can do that on my own.” 

Ellie, careful not to touch the web-shooter on her palm, squeezed your hand gently. “I want you and I want this so bad, you have no idea,” 

“Show me,” You murmured as you turned to face her. Ellie let out a shaky breath and leaned in. 

Your lips tasted exactly how Ellie had imagined they would. They were sweet, presumably from the lipgloss you always used, or maybe you just always tasted like cherries, Ellie couldn’t tell, all she knew was that she wanted more. 

“Let’s go back to my dorm,” She murmured as her lips chased yours. 

“Okay,” You agreed, every thought in your head was focused on Ellie, and suddenly the only thing you cared about was getting that comic-book-looking costume off of her body. 

The quick trip back to her dorm wasn’t as scary as the first, though you weren’t sure if you could ever get used to the way your stomach dropped every time she swung. 

The moment your feet were on the floor of her dorm, Ellie had you pushed up against the door, her lips traveling down your bare neck. Your hands ran down Ellie’s back in search of a zipper or button to take off the suit, but you grumbled in frustration when you failed to find one.

“How do you take this fuckin’ thing off?” You muttered while Ellie ran her fingers along the hem of your dress. She laughed softly against your skin.

“The zipper is right here,” She whispered into your ear, taking your hand and guiding it to the side of her torso. Hidden beneath her arm and within the detailing of the suit was a tiny zipper. 

Your lips met hers again, and while you slowly dragged the zipper down, you let your other hand slide around her waist. 

And just before you were able to completely unzip the suit, a loud banging on Ellie’s door startled you both.

“Yo, Ellie, you in there?” It was Jesse, and he sounded very drunk. Your eyes widened as you looked at Ellie, waiting for her to say something. 

Ellie held a finger up to her lips and signaled for you to keep quiet. She was sure that if Jesse assumed she wasn’t home, he’d find someone else to bother. 

Jesse banged on the door a few times and groaned loudly when he realized Ellie wasn’t answering. You sighed softly once you heard him shuffle away. 

“Where were we?” Ellie smiled and pulled you close to her. Finally, you were able to pull down that zipper and the suit came loose enough for Ellie to pull off. 

Ellie slid her fingers under the straps of your dress and let them fall down your shoulders. “Can I take this off?” She asked.

You simply nodded. 

As if trying to tease, Ellie slid one strap down at a time, then moved onto the zipper, which she pulled down as slowly as she possibly could. 

After what felt like years of waiting, your dress fell to the floor, pooling at your feet. 

The feeling of Ellie’s skin against your own was everything you needed. She was warm and gentle, even her calloused fingers felt like butter on your skin. 

Hungry for more of her, you reached out and ran your fingers along the waistband of her black boyshorts. Everything about her drove you insane, the sight of her in the simple black sports bra and boyshorts that she wore was enough to make you go practically feral. 

Ellie followed your lead and copied your moves, tracing the waistband of your panties, then going further and dipping her fingers inside. Ellie could’ve sworn that the gasp you let out when she brushed against your clit was enough to make her cum, god she was already completely soaked just by standing there with you. 

“You’re so wet,” She breathed and her fingers slid against your pussy again. 

“Fuck,” You whined. 

Ellie pulled her fingers from your underwear and licked them clean. 

“I gotta have more of you,” Ellie said desperately.

“Then stop talking and do it,” You bit your lip. Your words were the last bit of confirmation she needed. Ellie grabbed your thighs and picked you up with ease.

Just as quickly as you had said those words, Ellie had swept you off your feet and sat you right on her bed. Your legs spread and her head in between them. 

She didn’t waste time taking off your panties, she couldn’t stop herself after she had that first taste. Ellie’s lips brushed against your cunt almost hesitantly but soon enough she was diving into you like she was starving. Your hips bucked up against her tongue as you searched desperately for release. Ellie’s hand snaked up around your thighs and held you down, causing you to whine out loudly. 

“God, you taste so good…” She groaned against your cunt.

“I’m getting close,” You gasped as you felt Ellie swirl her tongue around your clit. 

“We just started, baby,” Ellie chuckled and ran her tongue up along your slit. “Think you can wait a few more minutes? You just look so pretty like this…” She squeezed your thigh and looked up at you with a playful smirk. 

You stared at her, stunned by how she could be so dirty when she was the same girl who had been nervous to talk to you at the bar. How could she look so sexy when her chin and nose were both glistening with your slick and her hair was messy from you pulling on it? Was this the same girl who had choked after taking a drag from a joint?

“Please…” You moaned loudly and let your head fall back against the mattress. Ellie pulled away and kissed the inside of your thigh. 

“Fine, but only because you asked so nicely,” She smiled and stood up, pulling her underwear down and straddling your hips. “I wanna cum with you…” She mumbled as she leaned down and kissed you gently. 

A sharp gasp escaped your lips once you felt Ellie position her cunt against yours. Ellie let out a whiny moan and slowly rolled her hips forward, drawing out a loud sigh from you. Your bodies moved together slowly as if you were performing some heavenly dance. 

Her wet folds grinding against yours seemed to stop every thought in your head. You couldn’t recall the last person who had made you feel nearly this good– hell, you could barely form a coherent sentence. You reached out and grabbed Ellie’s hands, intertwining your fingers and squeezing her hands gently. 

“God, Ellie I can’t–” You stuttered and squeezed your eyes shut. 

“I know, me too…me too,” She groaned and tossed her head back. It wasn’t hard to tell by the way her thighs were beginning to shake or the loud profanities leaving her mouth that Ellie was just as close to orgasm as you were. 

It only took a few more moments before you came completely undone. A hot, sudden pleasure overcame you just as Ellie climaxed. As soon as the pleasure lulled, Ellie climbed off you and settled down next to you on the bed. 

“I didn’t want it to be like this,” Ellie whispered and turned to look at you. 

“What?” You giggled. 

“This,” She said and slid her arm around your waist. “I would’ve been more…romantic. Take you out to dinner, maybe show you all my favorite rooftops, I would’ve made this special.” 

You cupped her cheek and ran your thumb along her cheekbone. “I think tonight was pretty special. It was the best night I’ve ever had.” 

Ellie’s cheeks flushed slightly and a stupid smile tugged at her lips. “Don’t say that, it’ll inflate my ego.” 

“Alright then,”  

“Hey, promise me you won’t tell anyone about my–”

“Your secret identity? Trust me, I’ll take your secret to the grave.” 

“Thank you.” Ellie took your hand and placed a gentle kiss on the back. “I just want to keep you safe,”

“I know,” You sighed. 

On her nightstand, Ellie’s phone buzzed. You passed her the phone without hesitation. 

‘Active robbery occurring at…’ The headline flashed across her home screen. 

You watched as Ellie sat up and started grabbing her clothes off the floor. It had barely been ten minutes since the two of you had finished and she was already getting ready to run off and stop crime. 

“I’m so sorry, I just–” 

“You have to go,” You smiled and watched her slip into the suit. 

“Sorry,” She murmured, leaning down to kiss you before pulling the mask over her face. 

“Good luck and be safe,” You waved as she leaped out of the window and swung into the darkness of the night.

[puckstories]

Don’t Stop | Jack Hughes

Pairing; Jack Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warning(s); Oral sex (M+F receiving), cursing, use of the term 'good girl', situationship, low-key dropped the ball on reader hating Jack (sorry), overuse of the words 'trembling' and 'teasing' (sorry lol), edited only once

Summary; Part two to Arrogant, which can be found HERE

Word Count; 8.3k

Author’s note; I hate this unfortunately, but I spent a bit of time on it, and I really want to get it out of my drafts, so here it is. Keep in mind, I'm still new to writing smut, but I hope you like it at least a little bit. Also, the ending is kind of abrupt, sorry. Writing for Jack doesn't come as naturally as writing for Quinn does, but if you have any Jack requests, feel free to send them through my inbox. Thank you all so much for all the support, I hit 100 followers this morning! Should I do a celly, or should I wait until I hit a higher milestone? -Honey

His hands grip your ass firmly, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he effortlessly lifts you, pulling your body against his. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, locking in place as he straightens up, holding you securely. His lips are still on yours, hungry and demanding, the taste of him lingering as he begins to carry you toward the stairs.

With each step he takes, you can feel the flex of his muscles beneath you, the way his body moves with an easy strength that sends a thrill rushing through you. But the second he starts ascending the stairs, the thought of being dropped flashes through your mind, and you pull away from his lips, breathless, your hands gripping his shoulders.

"Don’t drop me," you warn, your gaze narrowing at him.

Jack pulls back just enough to glance down at you, his blue eyes glinting with amusement as a smirk curls on his lips. He lets out a low chuckle, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip to hide the grin that’s tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Relax, princess," he mutters, the nickname rolling off his tongue with that infuriating mix of affection and mischief that only Jack can pull off.

You roll your eyes at the word, heat flooding your cheeks. "How many times have I told you not to call me that?" You huff, irritated at the way he says the word—"princess"—with that unserious, almost mocking tone always sends a strange flutter through your chest, even if you pretend to hate it.

Jack doesn’t miss a beat. "Yeah, well," he says, his voice low, bordering on exasperation. "you say a lot of things." His grip on you tightens, and the effortless confidence in his movements makes it clear he’s far from concerned about dropping you.

He reaches the top of the stairs, his pace quickening as he makes his way down the hall. By the time he pushes the door open with his foot, the air between you feels charged, every touch sending sparks of heat coursing through your veins. The second you cross the threshold into your room, Jack wastes no time. He walks straight to the bed and drops you onto the mattress—not roughly, but with enough force to make you bounce slightly against the plush comforter.

A surprised gasp escapes your lips as you land, but it’s cut short when Jack is suddenly hovering over you, climbing onto the bed with a swift, predatory grace. His knees sink into the mattress on either side of your hips, caging you in beneath him. The intensity in his gaze shifts, his playful smirk softening into something darker, something laced with the undeniable tension that’s been building since the moment his hands found your body.

You can feel the weight of his body pressing against yours, the heat of him seeping through your clothes, the way his breath brushes against your skin as he leans down, his face inches from yours. His eyes flicker over your features, taking in the way your lips part slightly, your chest rising and falling as you catch your breath.

"See?" he murmurs, his voice a rasp, rough around the edges. "Told you I wouldn’t drop you."

You roll your eyes, but it’s mostly for show. The truth is, your heart is racing, your pulse thudding in your ears, and your body is already aching for his touch. You can feel the heat radiating off him, the way his eyes darken with desire as he hovers over you, and it makes your breath hitch. But you won’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he’s affecting you—at least, not yet.

"Wow," you quip, your voice laced with sarcasm even as your chest rises and falls more quickly, "you did something right for once." The smirk on your lips is teasing, but it’s your way of holding on to some semblance of control, even though you can feel it slipping with every passing second.

He raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by your jab, but there’s something dangerous in the way his lips twitch into a smirk of his own. Without another word, he presses his body against yours, the full weight of him pinning you to the bed, his warmth seeping into your skin. The intensity of the moment sends a jolt of electricity through you, your breath catching as you feel every inch of him against you—hard, unyielding, and incredibly close.

"Careful," he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly, filled with an edge that makes your stomach flip. "You’ve got a bad mouth on you." His eyes bore into yours, and the heat in his gaze makes your skin flush. He leans in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he adds, "Might need to shove something in it to make you be quiet."

His words send a shiver down your spine, the rough edge to his tone making you gasp softly, despite your best efforts to remain defiant. His breath is hot against your ear, his lips brushing your skin just enough to make you want more, even as his hands trail possessively down your sides, claiming you.

"Fuck you," you hiss, though the words come out breathless, your bravado faltering just slightly as his body presses harder against yours. Your hands grip the sheets beneath you, trying to ground yourself as heat pools low in your stomach, your body already reacting to the promise in his words, the tension between you winding tighter and tighter.

He lets out a soft, amused laugh, his lips curling into a grin that’s all arrogance and confidence. "Oh, I’m sure you’d like that," he replies, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. His hips grind against yours for emphasis, his body so close now that you can feel the hard length of him pressing against you through the thin fabric of your clothes, teasing you with what’s to come.

You bite your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of hearing the small gasp that threatens to escape your throat. He’s so infuriatingly smug, and yet, the way his body moves against yours, the way his hands grip your hips with just the right amount of pressure, it’s enough to make you dizzy with want.

"You’re not as tough as you think, princess," he continues, his voice a dangerous mix of teasing and desire, his lips moving from your ear to your neck, where he begins to trail slow, deliberate kisses along your skin. The heat of his mouth contrasts with the cool air of the room, making you shiver beneath him.

His words are like gasoline to the fire burning inside you, and despite the anger bubbling beneath the surface, you can’t deny how much you want him—how much you’ve been aching for him to touch you. But you’re not about to let him know that. Not yet.

"Don’t call me that," you snap, though the bite in your voice falters when he sucks lightly at a spot on your neck that makes your knees go weak. His lips pull away just long enough for you to catch the flash of mischief in his eyes, a look that tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

"Make me stop," he challenges, his tone almost daring you, like he knows you won’t—like he knows that despite your words, your body is already giving him all the permission he needs.

You want to retort, want to snap back with some smart remark, but before you can find the words, his lips crash down on yours. It’s a kiss that’s full of intensity, raw and hungry, leaving no room for anything else. His hand grips your jaw, tilting your head up to deepen the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours with a demanding urgency that makes your head spin.

You groan against his mouth, your hands flying to his hair, tugging at the strands with a mixture of frustration and need. The kiss is messy, all teeth and tongue and heat, as if neither of you can get enough, as if all the tension between you is finally snapping, and you’re both powerless to stop it.

His hips grind harder against yours, his body practically caging you in beneath him, and it’s almost too much—the pressure, the heat, the way every nerve in your body feels like it’s on fire. You tug at his hair harder, pulling him away from your lips just long enough to catch your breath, your chest heaving as you meet his gaze.

"Still want me to stop?" he breathes, his forehead resting against yours, his voice rough and strained with the same tension that’s running through your veins.

You meet his eyes, your defiance flickering just beneath the surface, even as your body betrays you with the way it arches into his touch. "Shut up," you whisper, though the breathless tone of your voice takes all the bite out of the words.

He grins, utterly satisfied with himself as he leans back to pull off his shirt, his muscles rippling beneath the skin in that infuriating way that makes your stomach flip no matter how much you try to ignore it. The moment his shirt hits the floor, your eyes involuntarily trail down his chest, over the defined ridges of his abs, and before you can stop yourself, you roll your eyes—hard.

His grin only widens at your reaction, his amusement practically dripping off him as he stands there, all confidence. He knows exactly what he’s doing, knows how much his body affects you, even if you refuse to admit it. And God, he loves it—loves pushing you, teasing you, knowing you’re fighting yourself every step of the way.

"See something you like?" he teases, voice just dripping with that irritating cockiness that makes your blood boil. His eyes gleam with mischief, his lips curling up in a way that dares you to react, dares you to admit what’s already painfully obvious to him—that despite how much he drives you crazy, you can’t tear your eyes away from him.

You let out an exaggerated scoff, forcing your gaze away from his infuriatingly perfect body. Your arms cross over your chest in a gesture meant to convey annoyance, but all it really does is give you something to hold on to as the heat of desire coils low in your belly. It’s maddening—how easily he can get under your skin, how effortlessly he can flip your emotions from anger to... this.

"You wish," you snap, your voice laced with irritation, though it feels more like you’re trying to convince yourself than him.

He lets out a soft, amused laugh, that insufferable smirk never leaving his face as he leans back down, closing the distance between you. His presence feels overwhelming, the heat of his body, the sheer size of him towering over you. You can feel his breath against your skin, his proximity sending a shiver down your spine even though you’re determined not to show it.

"Really?" he murmurs, his voice low, dripping with that maddening confidence. "Because I think you’re lying." His eyes flicker over your face, watching your reaction with that smug intensity that makes you want to slap him—or kiss him. Maybe both.

You huff, your jaw tightening as you refuse to meet his gaze, even though you can feel the weight of it, feel him practically daring you to look at him. "I’m not lying," you bite out, but the words sound weak, even to your own ears.

"Uh-huh," he drawls, his hand coming down to brush a stray strand of hair away from your face. The touch is light, almost gentle, but it sends a bolt of electricity through you that you feel all the way down to your core. "Why do you keep lying to yourself, princess?" he says, his voice a low murmur now, the teasing laced with something darker, more intense. His eyes flick down to your lips, just for a second, before locking back onto yours with that infuriating mix of amusement and desire. "I can feel how much you want me. You’re terrible at hiding it."

"Stop. Calling. Me. That." you snap, trying to regain some sense of control. But it’s hard to focus on anything but how close he is, the heat radiating off him, the way your body seems to hum with awareness of every inch between you.

He laughs again, a deep, rich sound that makes your frustration flare. "You keep saying that," he murmurs, his voice dropping an octave, sending a shiver straight down your spine. "But we both know you love it."

You clench your jaw, your nails digging into your palms as you fight to maintain the upper hand, but it’s slipping fast. His hand moves lower, grazing your arm, his touch light but purposeful, and you can feel your resolve crumbling, piece by piece. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and that’s what infuriates you the most.

"Tell me to stop," he says, his voice soft now, almost a challenge. His lips hover just a breath away from yours, so close you can feel the warmth of him, and every nerve in your body is screaming at you to give in. "Go ahead. Tell me to stop."

Your heart is pounding, your breath shallow as the tension between you reaches a boiling point. You should tell him to stop. You should shove him away, wipe that arrogant smirk off his face, and storm out of the room. But you don’t. You can’t.

Instead, you tilt your chin up defiantly, meeting his gaze with as much strength as you can muster. "I hate you," you whisper, your voice shaking with the force of your frustration, the words spilling out before you can stop them.

But instead of being hurt, or even fazed, his grin only widens, his eyes gleaming with victory. "No, you don’t," he whispers back, his lips brushing against yours, the touch feather-light but enough to send a wave of heat crashing through you.

His lips press against yours, hot and insistent, as he pins you deeper into the mattress, his weight settling over you like a blanket of heat. The kiss is all-consuming, stealing your breath and scattering your thoughts, but you can’t help the way your body responds—how your hands instinctively clutch at his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. You hate how easily he does this to you, how effortlessly he tears down your defenses with nothing but the sheer force of his presence.

His hands are already moving, sliding beneath the hem of your pajama shirt, the cool air meeting your bare skin for a brief moment before his fingers find you. The second his hands make contact, a jolt of electricity shoots through you, igniting another fire low in your stomach. He doesn’t hesitate, his palms warm and firm as they trail upward, sending goosebumps racing along your skin as they push the fabric higher, higher—until he reaches your breasts.

He cups them, his hands squeezing gently at first, his touch confident, possessive. His lips never leave yours, and you can feel the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as he deepens the kiss, knowing exactly what he’s doing to you. You try to hold back a whimper, but it escapes anyway, much to his satisfaction. He groans softly in response, the sound reverberating through you, adding fuel to that fire already building inside you.

Your frustration bubbles up again, a part of you hating how easily he affects you, how he always seems to get what he wants without even trying. But your body isn’t listening to your mind anymore—your heart is racing, and your breath comes out in short, needy gasps as his hands continue their exploration. His thumbs graze over your nipples, and your entire body jerks in response, a gasp spilling from your lips before you can stop it.

He pulls back from the kiss just enough to look at you, his eyes dark and filled with that familiar teasing glint. "Look at you," he murmurs, his voice low and rough with desire. "Already falling apart, and I’ve barely even touched you."

"Shut up," you manage to hiss, though your voice betrays you—too breathless, too shaky to sound convincing. You try to glare at him, but the way his fingers are kneading your breasts, the way he’s rolling your nipples between his thumb and forefinger, makes it impossible to focus. The pleasure is too intense, too overwhelming, and you feel your control slipping with every flick of his fingers, every press of his hands.

He chuckles softly, clearly enjoying how much he’s getting under your skin—both literally and figuratively. "Your wish is my command," he says, his tone full of that infuriating cockiness that makes your blood boil. He leans down, his lips brushing against your neck, leaving a trail of open mouthed kisses as they move lower, teasing, grazing your skin with his teeth just enough to send a shiver running down your spine.

His lips trail down your stomach, each kiss soft and unhurried. His breath is hot against you, and every brush of his lips feels like a tease, leaving you trembling with a mixture of anticipation and frustration. You don't want him to know how much he's getting to you, but your body betrays you with every little shiver and breathless gasp that escapes your lips.

He pauses when he reaches the waistband of your sleep shorts, his lips just hovering above the fabric. You grit your teeth, fighting the urge to arch up into his touch, determined to maintain some semblance of control, even as desire coils tightly in your core.

"Hips up, princess," he murmurs, his voice low and teasing, the nickname rolling off his tongue without a care in the world.

You let out grumble, though your voice comes out breathier than you'd like. The complaint lacks any real bite, especially since, despite the irritation burning through you, you're already lifting your hips, obeying his instruction without hesitation.

The second your hips rise, even the slightest bit, his hands are already on you—his fingers gripping the waistband of your shorts and panties, tugging at them. You let out a sharp breath as the cool air hits your now-exposed skin, the sudden contrast sending a shiver racing through your body.

He pulls the fabric down your legs slowly, dragging the moment out just to torment you. You can feel his eyes on you the entire time, that intense, smug gaze that makes your pulse race and your skin flush with anger. Once the shorts and panties are off, he carelessly flings them somewhere behind him—he doesn't even bother to look where they land. His attention is entirely on you now, and you can feel the weight of his gaze as he sits back on his heels, taking in the sight before him.

He whistles softly, a low, appreciative sound that makes your cheeks burn with both embarrassment and desire. You want to tell him to shut up, to wipe that cocky smirk off his face, but you can't seem to form the words. Not when his eyes are locked on your glistening core, his lips parted slightly in awe, like he's seeing you for the first time-even though you've been here before, countless times.

“Fuck,” he murmurs under his breath, his eyes darkening with lust as they travel slowly up and down your body, lingering on the slickness between your thighs. “You’re already so wet for me.”

You press your lips together, trying to stifle the embarrassed moan that threatens to spill out, but you can’t stop the way your hips twitch, your body betraying you once again. The throbbing between your legs grows more insistent, more urgent, and you hate that he knows exactly how much power he has over you.

“Such a good girl, even when you’re pretending to hate me,” he adds, his tone dripping with teasing arrogance. His hands slide up the insides of your thighs, the heat of his touch leaving a burning trail on your skin, making you ache for more.

You grit your teeth, trying to hold on to the last shred of defiance you have left. “Asshole,” you snap, but your voice comes out shaky, breathless, and it only seems to make him grin wider.

His fingers brush just shy of where you want him most, deliberately avoiding your slick heat, keeping you on edge. You hate how easily he can work you up, how he seems to know your body better than you do. And you hate that, despite everything, you want him to touch you. You want him to stop teasing and give you what you’re aching for, even if admitting that would mean admitting defeat.

But he’s not done yet. His eyes never leave yours as he leans forward again, his breath hot against your thigh, his lips hovering just an inch from your slick skin. He’s close—so close you can feel the heat of him, the anticipation driving you wild, making your whole body hum with need.

“Tell me how much you want it,” he murmurs, sending shivers down your spine. His lips brush lightly against your skin as he speaks, and it’s enough to make your toes curl in frustration.

You squeeze your eyes shut, refusing to give in, refusing to let him win. But it’s getting harder. Your body is on fire, every nerve ending screaming for his touch, every muscle tensing with the overwhelming desire pulsing through you. You can feel yourself getting wetter, slicker, the arousal practically dripping from you—and he knows it. He’s watching you closely, waiting for you to break.

His fingers slide dangerously close again, brushing the edges of your folds, and you let out a soft, involuntary whimper. Your hips jerk up, your body begging for more, even though you’re trying so hard to resist. You can hear the smirk in his voice as he whispers, “Tell me, princess.”

You open your mouth to snap at him, to throw some biting remark his way, but instead, what comes out is a soft, breathless, “Please.”

His smirk grows even wider, and the satisfaction in his eyes is unmistakable. “That’s all I wanted to hear,” he murmurs.

And then, finally—finally—his mouth is on you.

The moment his lips connect with your slick, aching core, a sharp breath catches in your throat, and your body jerks involuntarily, every muscle tensing as the pleasure surges through you. Your bottom lip is caught painfully between your teeth, your desperate attempt to stifle the moan that threatens to escape. It’s almost unbearable, the way his mouth works against you—hot, firm, and utterly devastating.

He grins against you, and you can feel the smug satisfaction in the curve of his lips as they press against your most sensitive flesh. He knows exactly what he’s doing, knows exactly how hard you’re fighting to keep yourself in check. It drives you crazy that he gets off on it, that he takes so much pleasure in teasing you like this, in watching you struggle to maintain even a shred of control.

His breath is hot and heavy against your skin, sending shivers racing up your spine, and before you can gather your bearings, his tongue dips out to lick a slow, deliberate stripe against your folds.

It’s maddening—the way he takes his time, dragging his tongue slowly, purposefully, from your entrance up to your clit, as if savoring every inch of you. The sensation sends a jolt of electricity through your body, your toes curling in response as heat blooms low in your stomach. You can feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter inside you, the pleasure building with every excruciatingly slow movement of his tongue.

A muffled whimper slips past your lips, despite your best efforts to keep quiet, and his tongue pauses for just a second. He chuckles softly, the sound vibrating against your core, making your thighs tremble.

“You’re trying so hard,” he murmurs, his voice teasing as his lips brush lightly against your sensitive skin. “But I can feel it,” His breath fans over your folds, sending another wave of pleasure crashing through you. “How much you want to fall apart.”

You can feel your resolve slipping with every word, your body betraying you with every twitch, every soft whimper. It’s embarrassing, how easily he can unravel you, how his touch, his mouth, his voice, all seem to have complete control over you, even when you’re fighting with everything you have to hold on to some semblance of composure.

Your hands clutch the sheets beneath you, fingers twisting in the fabric as his tongue dips lower again, swirling slowly around your entrance, teasing you, making your hips twitch in response. He’s dragging this out—drawing you closer to the edge but never giving you quite enough to send you over. It’s infuriating, but it’s intoxicating all at once.

You manage to breathe out a shaky, “Just—” but before you can finish, his tongue flicks up again, brushing against your clit in the lightest, most maddening touch you’ve ever felt.

A sharp gasp escapes you, and your back arches off the bed, your hips instinctively bucking toward him, desperate for more. Your body is betraying you in every possible way, and it only seems to fuel him, his movements becoming bolder, more confident.

“Just what?” he murmurs against you, his voice dripping with amusement. His tongue moves in slow, lazy circles now, brushing over your clit with just enough pressure.

“Jack—” you try again, but the words die in your throat as another wave of pleasure crashes through you. Your mind is spinning, a haze of want and frustration clouding your thoughts, making it impossible to focus on anything other than the delicious torment of his mouth against you.

You bite down on your lip harder, trying to keep yourself from begging, but it’s useless. You can feel yourself falling apart under his touch, your control slipping away, bit by bit, with every swirl of his tongue.

“I can stop,” he offers, though you can hear the tilt in his voice. You know he’s just toying with you, enjoying the power he holds over you. His hands slide up your thighs, spreading them wider as his tongue flicks over your clit again, the touch just enough to make your body tremble with need.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” you manage to gasp, your voice a ragged mix of frustration and desperation. Your body is on fire, every nerve alight with sensation, and the thought of him stopping now, of leaving you teetering on the edge like this, is unbearable.

He chuckles again, clearly pleased with your response. “That’s what I thought,” he murmurs.

Casually—almost too casually—he moves a free hand down between your legs, his fingers brushing against your inner thigh with a featherlight touch that makes you shiver. It’s infuriating how effortless he makes it seem, as if he isn’t already driving you wild, as if your body isn’t already on fire from the way his mouth is working you over. You’re trying to calm yourself down, catch your breath, when he pulls his mouth away from your core, just enough to make you feel the sudden, almost unbearable emptiness.

The cool air hits your slick skin, making you gasp, but before you can even think to complain, his hand is already there. His fingers hover just shy of your entrance, brushing against your folds with an aggrevating slowness that sends a fresh wave of heat coursing through you. You bite your lip hard, trying to keep yourself grounded, trying to hold on to the last bit of control you have left—but it’s slipping, fast.

And then, without warning, he pushes a finger inside you.

A loud, desperate cry escapes your lips before you can stop it, your body arching off the bed as the sudden intrusion sends a shockwave of pleasure straight through you. The sound is raw, uncontrollable, and it only seems to spur him on. You can feel his grin against your inner thigh, smug and satisfied, as his finger sinks deeper into you, curling just enough to make your whole body light up.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, his voice full of that familiar, cocky arrogance that makes you want to scream and kiss him at the same time. His finger begins to move in and out of you, slow and deliberate at first, each thrust sending sparks of pleasure up your spine. “Let me hear you.”

His words only make the heat pooling in your stomach burn hotter, the sensation of his finger working in and out of you too much and not enough all at once. You can’t help it—every movement of his hand makes another moan slip past your lips, makes your hips buck helplessly against him, your body chasing the pleasure he’s so expertly building inside you. He knows exactly how to push you to the edge, how to make you unravel with nothing but the touch of his fingers, and you hate it.

He thrusts his finger in again, a little harder this time, and a strangled cry escapes you, your hands gripping the sheets beneath you for dear life. Your head falls back against the pillow, your mouth falling open as you gasp for breath, every nerve in your body alight with sensation.

His mouth returns to your core, his tongue flicking out to swirl around your clit just as he thrusts his finger in deeper. The combination of his mouth and his hand working together is lethal—his finger curling inside you, hitting that perfect spot that makes your vision blur, while his tongue works circles over your swollen clit, sending shocks of pleasure through your entire body.

“Fuck—” you manage to gasp, your voice shaking as the tension inside you builds to a near-breaking point. Your hips grind up toward him, desperate for more, your body moving instinctively as the ache between your legs becomes unbearable.

His finger starts moving faster now, thrusting in and out with a steady, relentless rhythm, the slick sounds of your arousal filling the room. His tongue is merciless, flicking and circling over your clit in perfect time with his thrusts, and you can’t hold back the moans anymore. You’re beyond caring how loud you are, beyond caring about anything other than the way he’s making you feel.

He slips a second finger inside you, the stretch making your thighs tremble, and you let out a strangled moan, your hands flying to his hair, tugging hard as your body reacts on instinct. The added pressure, the feeling of his fingers thrusting deeper, curling and pumping inside you—it’s almost too much. Your hips buck wildly, your body overwhelmed with the intensity of it all, and you’re not sure how much longer you can last.

“That’s it,” he murmurs against your core, “Close, aren’t you, princess?”

You nod frantically, unable to form words, your body trembling with the force of your impending release. You can feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter inside you, the pleasure building to a breaking point, every thrust of his fingers and flick of his tongue pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Come for me,” he commands, his voice low and filled with a quiet intensity that sends a fresh wave of arousal through you. His fingers curl inside you again, pressing against that sweet spot with devastating precision, and it’s all you need.

With a loud cry, your body shatters beneath him, your orgasm ripping through you like a tidal wave, leaving you gasping for breath as the pleasure crashes over you in wave after wave. Your thighs tremble violently, your back arching off the bed as your entire body convulses with the force of it. His fingers keep thrusting, his mouth still on you, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until you’re left a quivering, breathless mess.

When the last of the aftershocks finally subside, you collapse back against the bed, completely spent, your chest heaving as you try to catch your breath. He pulls his fingers out of you gently, his touch lingering just long enough to ride you through your climax. His mouth leaves your core, and when you glance down at him, you see him grinning up at you, his lips glistening with your arousal.

“Taste so good,” he murmurs, his voice full of satisfaction as his tongue swipes across the tips of his fingers. He sits back on his heels, his eyes gleaming with that familiar, infuriating mix of arrogance and desire. “So fucking perfect when you fall apart for me.”

You manage to muster enough strength to roll your eyes at him, though the effort is half-hearted at best. Your body is hot, your legs weak, and despite your frustration, you can’t help the small smile that tugs at the corners of your lips. Because as much as he infuriates you, as much as you hate his smug, teasing arrogance... fuck, does his tongue feel good.

Your attention is pulled back to him the moment you hear the sound of his zipper coming undone. The metallic click echoes in the room, and your breath hitches, your pulse quickening as your eyes dart down to him. The sight before you makes your mouth go dry, only for heat to pool low in your stomach as a new wave of desire surges through you.

He’s standing there, his bare chest gleaming in the dim light, and now his pants are sliding down his legs, leaving him in nothing but a pair of snug boxers that cling to his hips. Your gaze locks onto the outline of his cock, already straining against the fabric, and you can’t help but feel your breath catch in your throat, your body reacting instantly to the sight. Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, instinctively, as if preparing for what’s to come.

A hunger blooms in your chest—sharp, sudden—and even though you’ve just been wrecked by the intense climax he pulled out of you, your body is already responding to him again, aching for more. It's embarrassing, really.

He watches you, blue eyes of his trailing over your body with that familiar intensity that sends a shudder down your spine. His gaze lingers on your chest, and it’s then that you realize your arms are itching to move, to shed the last barrier of clothing that separates you from him. Your nightshirt suddenly feels too constricting, too hot, and without hesitation, you tug it over your head, tossing it aside in one quick motion.

You’re bare before him now, and the cool air against your flushed skin only heightens the feeling of being utterly exposed to him—but instead of fear, it sends a thrill of excitement coursing through you. You can see the way his jaw clenches slightly, his eyes darkening as they take in the sight of you, and the raw desire in his gaze makes heat flare through your entire body. His eyes flick down to your breasts, lingering there for a moment, and the way he looks at you makes your nipples harden all over again, your body responding to his gaze as if he’s physically touching you.

He doesn’t say a word—he doesn’t need to. His silence speaks volumes. The way his gaze trails down your body, the heat of it making your skin tingle, tells you everything you need to know about what’s going through his mind. He’s savoring this moment, drinking you in like you’re something he can’t get enough of, and the hunger in his eyes makes your heart skip a beat.

You’re so focused on his eyes that you almost don’t notice when his hands move to the waistband of his boxers. But the second he begins to slide them down, your attention snaps to the motion, your mouth going dry as the last of his clothing hits the floor. He steps out of his boxers with that same casual confidence, and your gaze locks onto him—fully, completely bare—and suddenly it feels like every nerve in your body is on fire again.

You can’t help it. Your tongue darts out again, wetting your lips in anticipation as your eyes drink him in. He’s hard, thick, his cock jutting out proudly in front of him, and the sight alone sends a fresh wave of heat flooding through you. Your body clenches in response, the ache between your legs growing more intense, and despite the fact that you just climaxed, your body is already craving more. You feel a new rush of slickness between your thighs, the anticipation building with every passing second as you watch him step closer, the tension in the room thickening with every heartbeat.

He notices, of course—he always does. He sees the way your body reacts to him, the way your thighs press together, trying to alleviate some of the ache, the way your tongue wets your lips in anticipation. His eyes flicker with that familiar cocky glint, and a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth as he steps closer to the bed, closing the distance between you.

"Someone’s eager," he murmurs, teasing, as he comes to stand next to you by the bed. He reaches out, his hand brushing a piece of hair out of your face, his touch featherlight but enough to send a jolt of electricity through you. "Greedy, greedy girl..."

Without a word, he grabs your hand—not roughly, but with enough force to let you know exactly what he wants. His touch is firm, guiding you with an unspoken command as he pulls you gently off the bed. Your legs tremble as you rise, but instead of standing, you feel the soft give of the carpet beneath your knees as you sink down in front of him, your body instinctively following his lead.

He takes his place on the edge of the bed, his legs spread wide. Without breaking eye contact, he wraps his hand around his length, lazily stroking himself. Your eyes drop to his hand, watching as he moves nonchalantly, as though he has all the time in the world. You swallow hard, your mouth watering at the sight of him, your body responding to the intensity of the moment. His fingers slide over the smooth, rigid flesh, and you can see the slight glisten of pre-cum at the tip as his grip tightens, making your pulse race even faster.

You don’t wait for his permission—you don’t need it. Your hands reach out, eager but steady, and you gently take his cock from him, your fingers wrapping around him with a sense of ownership. His breath hitches slightly at the change in contact, and you can feel the heat radiating from his body, the tension in his muscles as he watches your every move.

Your eyes flick up to meet his, and the look on his face—the hunger, the way his jaw clenches in anticipation—sends a wave of confidence rushing through you. You hold his gaze as you lean forward, your tongue darting out to wet your lips, the tip of your tongue brushing against the corners of your mouth in preparation. His breath comes out in a slow exhale, his chest rising and falling in a way that lets you know you have him where you want him.

Casually, you spit onto the head of his cock, watching the way it glistens in the dim light of the room. The saliva drips down, mixing with the bead of pre-cum already there, and your hand moves instinctively, spreading the moisture along his cock, making each stroke smoother, slicker. The wet sound of your hand sliding over him fills the air, and his body tenses under your touch. You feel him grow harder in your hand, his muscles tightening as he leans back slightly, his hands gripping the edge of the mattress for support. His eyes are half-lidded now, his gaze heavy as he watches you work over him, the lazy strokes of your hand building a steady rhythm.

"Fuck," he murmurs, his voice rough around the edges, the first word he’s spoken since pulling you to your knees. There’s something unfiltered in the way he says it, like he can barely keep the desire out of his voice. His head tips back just slightly, but his eyes never leave yours, his chest rising and falling with deep, controlled breaths as he fights to maintain the upper hand.

You can’t help but smirk, feeling a rush of satisfaction at the way his body is responding to you, at the way he’s losing that unshakable control he’s so good at maintaining. You know you have him now, and the knowledge makes you bolder. Without breaking the rhythm of your hand, you lower your mouth to him, your tongue darting out to swirl over the tip, tasting him. The salty taste of pre-cum meets your tongue, and you hum softly in response, the sound vibrating in your chest as you take him further into your mouth. His sharp inhale fills the room, and you feel his body tense under your touch, his hands gripping the mattress tighter, his knuckles white.

"Good girl," he breathes, the words slipping out in a low, almost involuntary growl. His fingers twitch, like he’s fighting the urge to bury them in your hair and guide you to move faster, harder, but he holds back—for now.

You feel the power shift between you, the balance of control subtly tilting in your favor as you wrap your lips around him, your tongue swirling over his head before sliding further down. His hips jerk up just slightly, his body instinctively chasing the heat of your mouth, and the low groan that escapes him makes your whole body thrum with satisfaction.

You bob your head, slowly at first, taking your time, savoring the feeling of him filling your mouth. Your hand works in tandem with your lips, stroking the base of his length while your mouth moves over the rest, each movement deliberate, slow, teasing. You can feel him trembling slightly beneath you, his restraint slipping as his breath becomes more ragged, more uneven.

"Fuck," he mutters again, his voice tighter this time, strained with the effort of holding back. His hands finally move from the edge of the bed, one of them tangling in your hair, the other resting on your shoulder, his fingers flexing against your skin as he fights to keep from thrusting up into your mouth.

"Don’t stop," he grits out, his voice rough, desperate. His hand tightens in your hair, just enough to guide you, to push you a little deeper.

You hum around him, the sound vibrating through your throat and sending a jolt of pleasure straight up his spine. The soft, needy noise you make seems to unravel him, his grip tightening in your hair as you continue the steady motion of bobbing your head along his cock. The weight of him in your mouth, the taste of him on your tongue—it all builds into a dizzying sense of control and desire that fuels you to push even further.

He’s not forcing, but guiding, applying just enough pressure to help you take him in deeper, pushing you down on his length. Your lips stretch wider as you take him further, the sensation of being filled making your core throb with heat.

You adjust easily to his lead, and the soft sound of his breath hitching above you tells you how much he loves it. A low, guttural moan escapes his lips, and the sound sends a rush of excitement through you. He’s losing control—because of you. And you can feel it, in the way his body tenses, in the slight tremor in his fingers as they flex against your scalp.

Your free hand moves down between his legs, the motion slow as your fingers brush lightly against his balls. You can feel how tight and full they are, and the heat radiating from his skin makes your fingers tingle as you cup him gently in your hand. His reaction is immediate—a sharp intake of breath, his hips jerking slightly upward, pushing himself deeper into your mouth as your fingers squeeze him lightly.

"Fuck," he mutters, the word drawn out, his voice thick with lust. His hips buck slightly again, just enough to let you know how much he’s struggling to keep control. His head tips back, the cords in his neck straining as he fights to maintain the upper hand, but you can tell he’s losing it, bit by bit.

You hum again around him, your fingers stroking and massaging his balls in time with the bobbing of your head. Each time you take him deeper, your throat tightens around him, the soft gagging sounds mixing with the wet, slick noise of your mouth working over him, filling the room with the raw, intimate sounds of pleasure. Your hand continues to stroke gently, massaging him as your mouth moves faster, deeper, the pace building as you sense him drawing closer to the edge.

The way his hands grip your hair tighter, the way his breathing becomes ragged—all of it tells you how close he is, how much he’s holding back. The control you have over him right now sends a thrill coursing through your veins, and it only makes you want to push him further, to make him fall apart completely in your hands.

His groans grow louder, more desperate, and you can feel his hips rocking upward, pushing himself deeper into your mouth with every thrust. The sensation of him filling your throat, of the slight sting of your gag reflex, only spurs you on, your hand squeezing his balls a little firmer as you take him even deeper, your lips pressing against the base of his cock with each motion.

His breath comes out in ragged gasps, his fingers flexing against your scalp, his grip tightening as he guides your head down, pushing you to take him as deep as you can. You can feel the muscles in his thighs tensing beneath your hand, his whole body coiling with the intensity of his impending release. The tension between you is electric, thick and heavy in the air, and you know he’s on the verge of losing it—his control fraying with every stroke of your hand, every movement of your mouth.

"God, you’re—" he starts, his voice tight and strained, but the words are cut off by a low, guttural moan as his body shudders under your touch. He pulls you down harder on his length, his hips rocking up into your mouth with more urgency now, the slow, teasing pace you’d set earlier completely forgotten. His hands guide you faster, harder, as if he can’t get enough, as if he’s chasing that final, explosive release that’s just within reach.

You hollow your cheeks, sucking him deeper, harder, as your hand continues to squeeze and massage his balls, your fingers pressing into the sensitive skin with just the right amount of pressure. The combination of your mouth and hand working in perfect rhythm is driving him wild, and you can feel him trembling beneath you.

"Shit—just like that," he groans. His head falls back, his eyes squeezed shut as he surrenders to the pleasure, his entire body shaking with the effort of holding on for just a little longer. "Don’t stop," he grits out, his hips bucking upward again, pushing himself deeper into your mouth as his grip on your hair tightens even further.

And you don’t stop. You keep going, faster, your mouth moving in time with his ragged breaths, your hand continuing to massage him, coaxing him closer and closer to the edge. You can feel him tensing, his body shaking with the intensity of it all, and you know it’s only a matter of seconds before he breaks.

And then, with one final, deep thrust, his body shudders violently, his hips jerking up as he finally comes undone in your mouth. His release is sudden and overwhelming, his cock twitching as he spills hot and thick down your throat. You take him as deep as you can, swallowing around him as his body convulses, his fingers gripping your hair tightly as he rides out the waves of his orgasm.

A long, broken groan escapes his lips, his entire body trembling as he surrenders to the pleasure. You keep your lips wrapped around him, your hand still gently massaging him, coaxing every last drop from him as he shudders beneath you. His hips rock gently against your mouth, his breath coming out in ragged gasps as he finally starts to come down from the high.

When the last of the tremors finally subside, you pull back slowly, your lips slipping off his length with a soft, wet pop. His chest is heaving, his breath still uneven, and his eyes are half-lidded as he looks down at you, his gaze hazy with the remnants of pleasure. His hands loosen in your hair, sliding down to rest gently on your shoulders, his touch soft now, almost reverent.

"Fuck," he mutters, his voice rough, barely above a whisper. His head tips back, and he lets out a long, slow exhale, his body relaxing as the tension finally leaves him. "That was... incredible."

You smirk up at him, wiping the back of your hand across your lips, your body still brimming with the satisfaction of knowing you made him come undone like that. “I know."

Two can play that game, asshole.