#too lazy to come up with something i got an idea for a thing and my mind is elsewhere

[nilla03]

“𝐵𝑒 𝑚𝑦 𝑠𝑒𝑐𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑦“

𝑃𝑙𝑜𝑡：𝑛𝑎𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑖 ℎ𝑎𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑙𝑢𝑏

𝐶𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠： 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝑛𝑎𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑖，𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑔ℎ 𝑟𝑖𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔，𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑐𝑟𝑦 𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑦

Nanami wasn't thrilled about you going out, but he let you go. You had pouted, kissed his jaw, and assured him you'd be safe, promising to text him throughout the night. He trusted you-of course, he did-but that didn't mean he liked the idea of you in some dark, crowded club, surrounded by drunk men who wouldn't know how to keep their hands to themselves.

Still, he kissed your forehead before you left, his large hands squeezing your waist as he muttered, "Be good."

You had every intention of listening. Really, you did.

But a few drinks in, and things started getting a little hazy.

You were laughing with your friends, dancing under the dim neon lights, feeling warm and weightless as the alcohol pulsed through your veins. You had been texting Nanami like you promised-little updates here and there-but at some point, your replies got lazy, a few too many typos slipping in, and then... nothing.

That's when he decides to come get you.

By the time Nanami arrived, you were at the bar, giggling at something your friend said, a drink in your hand that you were already too tipsy to finish. He spotted you instantly-your pretty outfit, your glossy lips, the way your jewelry caught the low lights. You looked like a doll, and you were practically glowing, but the moment his sharp eyes landed on you, all he felt was irritation.

Of course, you had gotten carried away.

You didn't even notice him at first, too busy swaying to the music, but the second a warm, familiar hand touched the small of your back, you gasped. You turned, blinking up at him with wide, glassy eyes, a smile spreading across your face.

"Kento!" you chirped, stumbling a little as you reached for him. "You came!"

Nanami exhaled through his nose, steadying you with one firm hand. "Of course I did," he said, his voice even. "You stopped answering your phone."

"I did?" You frowned, pulling out your phone and squinting at the screen like the little device had betrayed you. "Oops..."

Nanami only shook his head. "We're going home."

You pouted, clinging to his arm. "But I was having fun."

"I can see that," he murmured, his eyes flicking down to the way your dress had ridden up from all your dancing. His jaw clenched.

"Come on, sweetheart. We're leaving."

The ride home was quiet.

You sat in the passenger seat, still tipsy, playing with the hem of your dress, stealing little glances at Nanami He was gripping the wheel tightly, his jaws is expression unreadable.

You knew that look.

He wasn't angry-not really-but he wasn't happy either.

When you pulled into the driveway and he helped you out of the car, his hands steady on your waist, you leaned into him with a dramatic sigh.

"Kento," you whined, tilting your head up to look at him. "Are you mad at me?"

His golden-brown eyes flickered down to you, his fingers tightening slightly around your waist. "No," he said, calm as ever.

You let out another little whimper, pressing against his chest. "I just wanted to have fun," you mumbled. "Now l wanna feel good..."

You curled your fingers into his shirt, tilting your face up for a kiss, but he only exhaled sharply through his nose.

"No."

Your brows furrowed, and you let out a small, needy sound as he pulled you inside, guiding you toward the bedroom.

You thought he was going to give in, but instead, he sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled you onto his lap-his thigh, to be exact.

You blinked, confused for a moment. "Kento?"

"If you're so desperate," he murmured, his hands resting heavily on your waist, "you can help yourself."

Your face burned as you realized what he meant. Your thighs squeezed together on instinct, your hands resting on his broad shoulders,

"That's mean," you whispered, trying to shift in his lap, but his grip tightened.

"You were being a brat tonight," he said, his voice low and unwavering.

Your breath hitched.

He was warm beneath you, his thigh firm and unyielding as he kept you still. You squirmed, just a little, testing him, but his fingers dug into your waist, keeping you in place.

"Go on," he murmured, voice deep and smooth. "Show me how bad you want it."

Your lips parted slightly, embarrassment and arousal mixing in your chest, but you listened.

You shifted against his thigh, feeling the friction immediately, and let out a soft, desperate little whimper.

Nanami exhaled through his nose, watching you with sharp, dark eyes.

You whined again, pressing your forehead against his shoulder, but you didn't stop moving. His thigh was so firm beneath you.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, your breaths coming out in short, needy little gasps.

Nanami hummed, pressing a slow kiss to your temple.

Your body was trembling-hot, desperate, on the edge-but Nanami still wouldn't budge.

His hands stayed firm on your hips, guiding you over his thigh, keeping the movements slow, controlled, not enough.

You were falling apart, your whimpers turning into soft little sobs as you rocked against the hard muscle, your slick staining his slacks, making a mess of him-but he didn't seem to care.

"You're crying again," he murmured, voice smooth, unaffected. His eyes moved down to where your hips stuttered against his leg. "Pathetic."

You were pathetic, and you didn't care.

You sniffled, rubbing your teary cheek against his chest, trying again to grind harder, to chase the relief you needed, but his grip tightened, forcing you back into that slow, agonizing pace.

"K-Kento," you gasped, nails digging into his arms.

"Shh," he murmured, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "You can finish, sweetheart-but only if you do it my way."

You let out a broken little whimper, nodding frantically, your body twitching against him. "I-I will," you hiccupped, pressing your face against his shoulder. "Please, I-I c-can't-"

Nanami hummed, finally letting you move again-but not how you wanted.

He controlled it-pressing your hips down harder against his thigh, making you grind exactly how he wanted, dragging you over the fabric just right, making the friction sharper, deeper, more.

You sobbed, your fingers curling into his shirt, your thighs squeezing around him as the pleasure hit, sharp and overwhelming, making your whole body tremble as you came with a choked little gasp.

Nanami exhaled slowly, watching you shake in his lap, his grip loosening just slightly, smoothing over your soft, overheated skin.

"There you go," he murmured, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your forehead. "That's my girl."

You hiccupped, still trembling, still trying to catch your breath as he rubbed slow circles into your back, grounding you, keeping you close.

"Messy little thing," he sighed, his voice softer now, amused.

You sniffled, pressing a weak little kiss to his jaw, blinking up at him with glossy, exhausted eyes.

"Still mean," you mumbled, breathless.

Nanami sighed, brushing your hair back from your sticky, flushed skin. "You're exhausting."

But he was soft with you now, gentle-pulling you close, letting you curl against him, keeping his big hands warm and steady on your body, even though you'd ruined his pants, even though you'd whined and begged like a spoiled little brat.

[aventurineswife]

I am…not doing so hot atm. 🙂‍↕️ Can I request a small short where Reader is going thru it and kinda just. Lying in bed. Buried themselves under the blankets bc they had a rough few weeks and that morning they just didn’t have it in themselves to crawl out of bed (totally missing breakfast and lunch…and maybe dinner 💀).

Uhhhhhhhhh not sure who to choose I’m thinking maybe Robin, Himeko, Jing Yuan or Welt? (Or anyone else from Star Rail.) Platonic or romantic it doesn’t matter.

No Rush, No Burden

Tags: Jing Yuan x Reader, Robin x Reader, Comfort, Emotional Support, Platonic Relationships, Gentle Care, Quiet Companionship, Soft Fluff, Slow burn, Tenderness, Quiet affection.

Warnings: Mentions of emotional exhaustion and fatigue, Non-graphic descriptions of being overwhelmed or burnout, Light angst (due to emotional struggles).

A/N: I'm so sorry to hear that! I hope you get well!! 🫂💖 Also just a quick reminder for others: Please don’t take this as an opportunity to exploit the idea or ask for something on the spot. My works are all scheduled and planned in advance, so I can’t keep rescheduling or accommodate last-minute requests. I appreciate your understanding and patience! Thank you!

The weight of exhaustion pressed down on you, heavy like the blankets wrapped around your body. You hadn't moved much today. Maybe since yesterday. You weren’t counting anymore.

The room was silent, save for the occasional rustle of fabric when you shifted. The outside world felt far away—too far to reach, and honestly, you weren’t sure you wanted to.

Then, there was a knock. Gentle, but firm.

You didn’t answer.

The door slid open anyway, the scent of fresh tea wafting in before the soft click of boots followed.

"Ah," a familiar voice hummed, light and thoughtful, like he had already expected this scene. "So this is where you've been hiding."

You barely peeked out from under the covers. Through the dim light, you caught a glimpse of golden eyes, sharp yet warm, watching you with quiet understanding. Jing Yuan, your ever-persistent guardian, didn’t seem surprised. If anything, he seemed… patient.

"I had a feeling," he murmured, setting something down with a faint clink. "You missed every meal today. Even the chefs started to worry."

You wanted to say something—maybe an apology, maybe an excuse—but the words wouldn’t come.

Jing Yuan merely sighed, but it wasn’t exasperated. It was the kind of sigh that carried familiarity, the kind given by someone who had seen this before.

Without asking, he settled himself at the edge of your bed, his armor creaking softly as he adjusted his position. Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he leaned back against the headboard and crossed his arms.

"I'm not here to drag you out," he said casually, closing his eyes. "The world will still be there tomorrow. Right now, though…" His voice trailed off, thoughtful. "I thought I'd keep you company for a while."

For a man with a reputation for being lazy, he certainly had a way of making his presence feel grounding.

You shifted slightly under the covers. “…You don’t have to.”

"I know," he said, his tone carrying a quiet smile. "But I will."

There was no urgency in his presence, no expectation. Just warmth. The steady rise and fall of his breathing, the occasional sound of fabric shifting as he got comfortable. It was… nice. Safe.

After a while, you felt the weight in your chest ease, just a little. Maybe you weren’t ready to get up yet—but you weren’t alone. And somehow, that was enough.

You weren’t sure when you fell asleep.

Or if you had even really been asleep at all.

The blankets were cocooned around you, your limbs heavy, your mind clouded by exhaustion. Time had slipped away, stretching into something intangible, and you had long stopped keeping track of meals or daylight.

But then, a soft melody began to weave through the silence.

It wasn’t intrusive. It didn’t demand anything from you. It was just… there. A gentle hum, carrying warmth and familiarity, wrapping around the room like a delicate embrace.

Robin.

Even before she spoke, you knew.

There was a faint rustling as she settled beside your bed, her presence quiet but unwavering. The melody lingered for a few more seconds before fading into the air.

"You don’t have to say anything," she said softly, as if sensing the struggle in your silence. "I just wanted to be here."

Something about her voice—smooth, melodic, laced with a tenderness she rarely showed in crowds—made your chest ache.

A pause. Then, a small chuckle.

"You know, I once did this for myself," Robin admitted, amusement laced with something more somber. "On nights when I felt too tired to face the world, I would sing. Not for anyone else, just… for me."

The air felt lighter somehow.

"You don’t have to do anything today," she continued. "Or tomorrow. Or even the day after, if you need the rest." A gentle touch against your shoulder, fleeting but reassuring. "But I’ll be here. If you ever want company."

Her fingers brushed against something on the nightstand. A plate, maybe? You caught the faintest scent of something warm—freshly baked bread, lightly sweet, something easy to eat even if you didn’t have the energy.

No pressure. No expectations.

Just care.

You swallowed thickly, your fingers twitching under the blankets. You weren’t ready to move yet.

But maybe, just maybe, you weren’t alone in this.

And that was enough.

[dailyaventurinedoodles]

Day 66 - insert Chiori saying something cool here

[bidaryl]

need u to know that while i've written various words about this in my google docs, i woke up the other morning needing a slight break but also wanting the same world, and so naturally my brain was like.

oh. daryl wakes up at the start of the end. again.

for the second time.

and his first thought is fuck no. we're not doing this again.

but then he actually takes stock of the situation, using all his senses and his insticts that have grown so sharp over the years, and realises, it's different this time.

this time; his throats fucked, forever hoarse, after that run he went on that turned out to be an ambush, and denise and hershel told him he was lucky he could still talk, that he was lucky he even survived, after how deep the wire cut.

he's still got the scar on his hand from the fight with the claimers, when they stumbled upon him in that house in the woods and had him at knifepoint, and he's sure if he was to check, he'd have the scar of his back from them, too.

his entire body aches, feeling every bit of his fifty four years, and then some, and, his hair's long, a complete mess falling in his eyes.

finally stretches his awareness to the rest of the tent and realises–he's not alone. that there's an entire body basically on top of him, weighing him down, except it's a breathing pattern he knows and a heartbeat he takes comfort in, something so familiar and so ingrained into his body and brain–his heart–that he doesn't even think to register it as danger.

looks down at his daughter asleep on his chest and curls his arms around her protectively, breathing her in.

as long as she's in his arms, she's safe. he'll die making sure thats certain.

focuses back on the tent–the shitty, measly, bullshit tent that he pitched all the way back at the start–and thinks, fuck.

anyway! just the idea of the first time daryl woke up in the apocalypse, it was after losing almost everything, after he had so little left; that when he woke up, he looked around and saw it for the second chance it was, and took it.

that he never, not once, tried to go back.

like, sure, there was the occasional thought, especially at the start, when he was missing judith and rj. dog. the few other pieces of his family that had survived alongside him, that he'd left behind. but when it came down to it, he never put any real effort into trying to find out why he was there or how to get back. never figured out why him and carol and maggie and a few others got to start again, with all their memories still intact.

they just took it for what it was and used every memory to their advantage. built every bit of their future with the knowledge they had, and created something.

and it was good.

not perfect, some smaller disasters getting lost in the chaos of the wars, but for the most part, it worked.

it was as close to perfect as they were ever gonna get.

they saved so many of their nearest and dearest, and their family lived.

not just survived–lived.

the second chance was everything they needed to thrive.

except now, he's here, in his stupid fucking tent–again–and he's lived a hundred different lifetimes, or at least two more than he ever thought he would, and his daughter–his daughter–is in his arms, and he needs to go back.

needs to go back to before.

he doesn't want a third chance.

they got it right the second time.

he doesn't want to build everything from scratch again, lay the foundations of their future brick by brick just so he can hopefully, eventually, maybe, one day, get his family back.

doesn't want to have to fight and claw and beg and wait for his future, doesn't know if he could live through it all again.

just wants to wrap his kid up tight and take her home, where their family is alive and happy and thriving, their community so fucking warm and full, everyone having a job to do and everyone having a place to call home.

thinks, not for the first time, time travel is fucking bullshit.

time travel fix it au's are done to death in this fandom but also they're my favourite thing in the world so au where the entire show happens as is and it's heartbreaking and inspiring etc but then. restart button. waking back up at the start of the end except only the people that lived remember

wanna think about what would happen when daryl and carol wake up at camp, remembering everything that happened; carol stronger, knowing in her gut that everything that she remembers is real, and daryl fucking terrified, because if everything in his head actually happened, then what the fuck is this

wanna think about a rick dragging a hostile merle and a wide-eyed glenn back to camp, memories completely intact, and running to reunite with his family. not letting daryl go and hugging carol so so so tight, collapsing to the ground with carl in his arms

wanna think about them dragging the atlanta group to the farm, maggie leaving the front porch light on for them, and everyone reuniting. rick seeing hershel again, daryl seeing beth, carol pulling sophia close, and maggie being unable to even breath, looking at glenn

wanna think about them tossing up whether to even go to the prison, but they met important people there, and alexandria's a long way, and if they're gonna survive this time–if they're gonna live–they're gonna do it right

so they go to the prison so they can figure out their next step, and michonne's there and waiting, andre on her hip, and they deal with the governor before the governor deals with them, and sasha and tyresse finally show up, they find the prisoners, and then one day they get a knock on the front gate, and it's negan

negan showing up, no baseball bat in hand but his leather jacket still in place, a sick but alive lucille by his side, laura and doctor franklin behind him, and all he's got to say is at the end of the world, i know which side i wanna be on

the fallout of that, of maggie being against it, of rick never having gotten to see negan at the end, not knowing the choices he made, the good and the bad. daryl and carol looking at glenn, seeing him alive and in love and having no memory of his last moments, and never wanting anything to ruin that, but negan saved judiths life, helped save all their lives. he chose, in the end, and now it's their turn

wanna think about a future where beth doesn't die, but they go on a rescue mission to get noah anyway. a future where tara turns up with her niece, led by eugene with abraham and rosita following right behind him

wanna think about how they'd handle terminus, how they'd handle the claimers. wanna think about them trying to find father gabriel, except gabe made it the first time around, and he wasn't wasting his second chance. he saved his flock, and he led them to alexandria, and he's waiting

wanna think of connie's group searching for hilltop. not finding maggie, or alden, but finding jesus. wanna think about lydia, being a fucking child, and watching her mother kill her dad, and remembering aaron telling her how loved she was

wanna think of the growing pains of them being able to save so many more family members this time, but god, a larger group is harder to keep alive

daryl trying to run interference with merle and everyone else, getting the jack of it one day and telling him he's already mourned him once, and he won't again. if merle wants to stay–to live–then it's up to him. daryl's not gonna babysit him anymore

rick trying to find his footing between lori and shane and judith, with carl, with michonne and andre. michonne looking at a weak but alive lori grimes holding a screaming and crying newborn in her arms, and knowing that she's never gonna be her daughter the way she was before, but knowing she'll always be something to her

carol struggling to be the mother sophia needs her to be, emotions too sharp and constantly fucking terrified. doesn't know how to hold onto someone like that anymore, either gripping too tight or not at all

maggie trying to exist in a world where she has everyone she's ever loved back, so close and so fucking dear, except it cost her her son. not knowing if she'll ever get him back at all. doesn't know how to live with the grief of losing someone she never technically had in this world

they make it to alexandria and it's aaron opening the gate for them, waiting to welcome them home

[cursingtoji]

the cardio machine i want is on the cardio machine

cw: gym rat toji x loser!gf - size kink, sweat kink (?), toji is a big old meanie. loser!gf series: geto gojo nanami.

loser!reader who, like a million other sedentary people on new year’s eve, said “new year new me” and proceeded to enroll at the local gym.

gym rat!toji who knew how things are in the beginning of the year, so the first week he arrives one hour earlier than usual to avoid all the lazy fucks that won’t last two months.

of course he makes a few mental bets on the ones that would quit and how long it would take, you included.

it’s easy to spot the “i don’t want lift weights cause i don’t want look jacked” type of girl.

at the breaks between one set and the other he looked around, not surprised to see you slowing down the treadmill after running not even two whole minutes.

sometimes he caught you staring at him through the mirror, not an uncommon occurrence amonst the women there, though you surprised him one day by tapping his shoulder after he finishing his weighted squats.

“can you… give me a few tips?” he looked so intimidated, from up close his shoulders looked like a wall, he stared at you from above, dark green eyes seemed to be heavily judging you, “never mind this was a bad idea, sorry” you turned around, grabbing you bottle and running off the gym.

by the time you managed to gather the courage to show your face back there two whole weeks had passed.

“consistency is the key you know” you were distracted looking down your phone while slowly walking the treadmill when the handsome man appeared beside you, the sudden presence destabilized you.

before you could become the viral video of the week when inevitably a gym employee decides to post the security footage of your ass rolling off the active treadmill, toji wrapped one big arm around your waist and pulled you to the stable floor.

“you caught me off guard the other day” he said completely unfazed by saving you from a life of embarrassment, “then you disappeared.”

“yeah i didn’t know if i wanted to come back anyways, i haven’t see any results so far” you pulled the hem of your shirt down.

toji snorted, “‘course you ain’t seeing results, sweetheart, you don’t lift.”

“well, it’s hard…” toji rolled his eyes, there was always an excuse.

though he also did a new year’s resolution of being more patient, for his kids primarily but teaching a cute thing like you could be a good exercise too.

soon enough, toji was correcting your form, texting you asking why you haven’t showed up to the gym and ringing your bell incessantly when you complained about muscle pain and said you wouldn't go that day.

“it’ll feel better once you start to move” he explained, resting on your door frame when you opened the door on your pajamas.

“let me alone, just today” you whined.

“you asked for my help now go put on something without cartoons on it” he waited for you to turn around and slapped your butt. it had been only one week he was coaching you but there was already a weird intimacy due to the fact he was pretty much always looking at your body and touching you.

to correct your form. obviously.

"what do i have to do today, coach fushiguro?" you asked from your bedroom through an ajar door which allowed toji to get a peek at your pink underwear and cute ass.

"cardio, bicycle first. get some blood flowing on those sore muscles" he tilted his head and raised his eyebrows watching you bend over to grab a biker shorts at the lowest drawer then holding back a laughter at the grunt of pain coming from you.

"once it gets better i can teach you other types of cardio" he walked around your kitchen examining your cabinets and stuff you kept in your fridge. needless to say it was all junk.

"can't wait" you replied sarcastically, failing to understand the meaning.

it took a few more days till you got used to toji's training, then he decided to focus on your upper body.

"such a simple movement, how do you manage to get that wrong?" he raised from the bench he was sitting behind you watching your form through the mirror. you almost dropped the weights at your feet when he came close. it was almost scary how much bigger than you he was especially seeing it throght the mirror. his right hand wrapped around yours on the dumbell and his bicep touched your arm as he pushed your arm closer to your body, "tuck your elbows in, straight your back" his free hand pushed your shoulders till they were touching his chest.

how come he smelled so good, so... musky and...

"are you even making any force?" he lowered his head, his reflection looking annoyed. so you decided to ignore the sudden heat between your thighs and flex your arm the way he taught you.

and just like he promised, when you were consistent enough and handling a good 5 minute run he decided to show you a more pleasing cardio.

"toji please~" you whined, thighs burning from riding him, you were using his rock hard abdomen as a support, but still.

"one more minute, come on" he looked at the watch on his wrist and slapped your ass, "haven't i prep-ed you good enough?" his thumb rubbed your bottom lip then pushed in meeting your tongue, where you tasted yourself in his digits one hour after he ringed your bell and said he was going to reward your good discipline, but he had to strech you first.

"good girl" you felt his abdomn flex when he raised from his laying position on your bed, "now leave it to daddy" he pecked your lips and quickly changed positions, putting a pillow under your ass and rolling his neck to start his cardio of the day.

[thehoneybeestings]

More, More, More

Word Count: 647

Synopsis: The last time you slept together, you asked Sevika for more than she had equipped; she makes sure she's prepared for the next time 'round.

Content/Warnings: nsfw, porn w no/little plot, strap (r receiving), top! sev, bottom! reader, softdom! sev, reader has female anatomy, i must be ovulating

A/N: Honestly, this did not turn out as nasty as I thought it would… anyway, first smut! Woohoo! I'm currently working on a dancer! vi au headcanon (enemies to lovers too how juicyyy), but I had this idea pop into my head today and thought I'd write a little drabble about it for y'all to have in the meantime; so here ya go, and I hope you enjoy! 

Love, Bee ୨ৎ

୨ৎ Sevika, who’s looking at you with a shit-eating grin as you stare slack-jawed at the silicone in front of you

୨ৎ Dark purple (her favorite color, you’ve noticed), eight inches long, and two inches wide

୨ৎ Your eyes slowly trail up to meet her own, eyebrows raised

୨ৎ “Sevika,” you begin with a breathy chuckle, “I… I don’t know if I can.”

୨ৎ She quirks a brow at you

୨ৎ “You took all of me last time and then asked for more; you can take it.”

──˚₊•୨ৎ•‧₊˚──

୨ৎ Sevika, who’s got you coming undone below her; flesh hand on your hip, and the other guiding the first inch of the purple toy into you

୨ৎ You don’t know how many hours it’s been, but you know you’re a handful of hickeys and orgasms in; and still, here you are, clawing at her arms, begging for something (you’re not even sure what)

୨ৎ “I hear you baby,” Sevika would soothe, kneading your hip, “I’m right here; doing so good f’ me."

୨ৎ She’s in a trance, watching the toy sink into you inch by delicious inch

୨ৎ Until, you suddenly reach out in between your spread legs, placing a hand on her stomach

୨ৎ “Fuck, it’s too much,” you’d pant, “Shit, Sev, ‘s too big…”

୨ৎ She cocks her head to the side with a lazy smirk

୨ৎ “Yeah?” she’d tease, “Can you take this much for now, baby? Can you do that for me?” 

୨ৎ “Yeah,” you’d say weakly, too full of her to muster anything else

୨ৎ “Atta girl.”

──˚₊•୨ৎ•‧₊˚──

୨ৎ Sevika, who’s fucking you into the mattress, flesh hand pressing into your lower back, mech hand gathering your hair into her fist

୨ৎ You’re drunk off of the fullness

୨ৎ The stretch of your walls around the silicone, the kiss it just barely plants on your cervix with every thrust; you need more, more, 

୨ৎ “More?”

୨ৎ You hadn’t realized you’d been doing your pleading out loud

୨ৎ “Yes, fuck yes, please, please, please…”

୨ৎ She’d let your hair loose, placing her mech hand parallel to the other and pulling you back up onto your knees by your hips

୨ৎ You’d attempt to push yourself back onto the toy, and she’d land a quick slap on the swell of your ass, ordering you to “Slow down.”

୨ৎ The last thing Sevika wanted was for you to get hurt (which is why she refused to be any rougher with you in bed than she already was, despite your reassurance that you could handle it), so she’d be slow to push into you

୨ৎ The sound that leaves your body when you feel Sevika come to a hilt inside you is guttural

୨ৎ Your arch deepens as your arms reach out to grab at the rungs of the headboard in front of you, knuckles turning white

୨ৎ The cool metal of Sevika’s hand trails up from your hip, to your back, to your forearm, and eventually, just above your own hand so that she can grab hold of the headboard herself

୨ৎ Her breathing is heavy, her body trapping yours, and you can tell she’s coming undone, so you reach over your shoulder to interlock your fingers with her flesh ones (whenever Sevika begins to fall apart, she needs the contact)

୨ৎ “Fuck, Y/n,” a kiss on your shoulder, “Okay for me to me move?” 

୨ৎ You nod frantically, brows knit together in pleasure, but that isn’t enough for her

୨ৎ “Words, love; I need words.” 

୨ৎ "Yes! Fuck, Sevika, please fuck me!”

──˚₊•୨ৎ•‧₊˚──

୨ৎ Sevika, who’s slow to pull the silicone out of you so she doesn't jar you, and quick to take the harness off so she can hold you

୨ৎ Your breath is still coming out in pants as she strokes your back and peppers kisses on your forehead, your temples, your cheeks

୨ৎ “You okay?” She’d ask

୨ৎ “Mhm,” you’d nod into her chest

୨ৎ “You need anything?”

୨ৎ “Mm-mm.”

୨ৎ “Can I clean you up?”

୨ৎ “No,” you’d mumble, “more cuddles for now.” 

୨ৎ And she’d chuckle, pulling you closer

୨ৎ “ ‘S always more with you…”

End ୨ৎ

[munsonsmixtapes]

Taste Me

virgin!Eddie x fem!reader

summary: Eddie gets a tongue piercing and you give him the opportunity to do something he has never done before

cw: MDNI (18+) oral (f recieving)

This is part two to Touch Me part three

"That's really fucking cool," you told Eddie as you stared at his tongue piercing that he had been excited to show you since he had gotten it done. He had been wanting to get one for a while and your nipple piercings had encouraged him so he went for it.

He was still trying to get used to it but had a newfound confidence because of it. The thing made him feel hot, the shyness he had, the awkwardness, slowly melting away as you stared at him, your eyes darkening.

The two of you had made out a few times since the first time, you always stopping when it got a bit too heated. You were always so kind to him even though they contradicted your kisses. Those were always rough and sloppy, and lazy but that was the way you both liked it.

Eddie would have been lying, though, if he said he didn't want more. He felt like he was finally ready to kick it up a notch. To take things to the next level even though he was scared to. He didn't want to make you uncomfortable and to be honest, he would have even known how to ask.

"You look hot," you told him pulling him out of his thoughts. Really? You thought so? Coming from you, that had to be the highest compliment he had ever received.

"I do?" He asked, suddenly feeling nervous about having your hot gaze on him.

"Of course you do, baby." That nickname always made his heart swell. "Want me to show you how hot I think you are?" You asked, batting your eyelashes and Eddie could already feel his dick getting hard.

"Please." The word came out like a whine and Eddie tried his hardest not to sound desperate but he was. You grabbed onto the back of his neck then pressed your lips to his in a sloppy manner.

You took no time to slip your tongue into his mouth, letting out a moan as you felt the piercing against it. It was cold, but you liked the feeling, immediately imagining what it would have felt like against your hot, wet, cunt. But you knew he had never done anything like that before you so you wanted to treat lightly.

"Do you want to try something new?" You asked and even though Eddie had no idea what you were talking about, he still nodded enthusiastically. Like always, he was down for whatever.

"Something new?" He asked, his eyebrows furrowing. "Like what?" You had done pretty much anything besides penetrative sex so he was wondering what else there could have possibly been.

"Well," you responded, grabbing on to a piece of his hair, twirling it around your finger as you put in a flirty expression. "I was wondering if you wanted to eat me out. I bet your piercing would feel really good against my cunt."

Eddie's eyes went wide as his cheeks turned pink. He had been wanting to do exactly that for weeks, but couldn't get the confidence to ask.

"I'd love to, but I don't know how."

"Just do whatever feels natural and if you're struggling, I'll help."

"Okay," he nodded and followed you to the bed where you went to lie back, making sure that your legs were hanging off the edge, your feet planted on the floor.

Eddie got down on his knees in front of you, spreading your legs wide then putting one over each shoulder just like he had read about so many times. He then turned his head and pressed kisses up your leg, sweet and gentle just like him. He took his time to warm you up even though he was eager to get to it. And so were you, apparently, with the way you were squirming on the bed.

He repeated the same action on your other leg then came face to face with your cunt, still covered by your underwear, but it was clear how wet you were by the very damp spot. He pushed up your skirt to give him so more room then dove in, pressing kiss after kiss to your clothed cunt then introduced his tongue, making sure to apply a good amount of pressure so you would have been able to feel it underneath your underwear.

"Eddie, please," you whined and he was quick to pull the underwear off and toss it across the room before going on again, his lips colliding with your clit, licking and sucking on it as your hands found their way into his hair like they always did.

He didn't really know what he was doing, just trying to figure out what you liked and what you didn't. By the way you were grabbing at his hair, he concluded that he was doing a good job.

His tongue flattened against your slit and you let out a gasp as foreign feeling of the piercing against the sensitive spot. He licked across it slowly so you could feel it and a moan escaped your lips in response.

"So good," you moaned and Eddie just chuckled, feeling more confident in himself.

"Yeah?" He asked, pulling away slightly. "You like that?"

He licked one more time before sucking on the spot, even harder this time to see your reaction. Your heels were digging into his back as you pushed yourself closer to him to the point where his face was fully buried in you. He continued to suck on and kiss the spot, making sure to mix in his tongue every once in a while as your heels dug even further into his back.

He then shoved his tongue inside you, swirling it around and that seemed to cause you to come completely undone as your thighs pressing into the sides of his head as you clenched around him, his tongue hitting that one spot that made you see stars.

Eddie kept going as you reached your orgasm, trying to see how many you could hit as he worked on you, wanting you to be absolutely wrecked once he was done with you.

He removed his tongue then went back to your clit, swirling his tongue around it, wanting you to feel his piercing as much a possible. You were gripping the sheets now, wanting to give his hair a break, feeling for back arch the time.

"Taste so good," he said. "And look at you," he pulled away to get a look at you. "Taking me so well. Got any more left in you, hon?"

You weren't entirely sure where all of this confidence had come from, but it was hot. He was hot. As long as he wanted to keep going, you'd have the energy for it.

"So much," you told him between labored breaths and that seemed like an invitation so Eddie dove in for more, not wanting to taste every inch of you, wondering if it all tasted as good as your cunt.

You both stayed like that for hours, him buried between your thighs while you let him do whatever he wanted to you, orgasm after orgasm rolling through you. You decided that you would have let him do that for as long as he liked, loving the way he was able to know exactly what you wanted without even asking. And you supposed now that you were going to have to return the favor sooner or later.

[luveline]

Can I please get the aftermath of a fight with Hotch? Maybe they’re both stressed after a particular case and things got a little heated?

ty for requesting !! fem, 1k

You hate when Hotch shouts. 

Morose, you lay in a slouch on the couch with your hand between your face and the armrest, knuckles aching from the pressure. You’re attempting to self soothe, but your misery is worsened by your own ministrations, your thumb a useless thing on your cheek. You can’t do it like Hotch can. There’s no second meaning. 

You assume him to be in the kitchen where you left him. 

Nobody likes to fight, but you think you might be the most unwilling participant for any argument with him. He’s patient, and mellow-headed the majority of the time, so when he does get heated you can’t help thinking you’ve done something really awful.

You get the worst of worries sitting there. That you’re too much effort for him, that you don’t fit. That he’s going to realise these things and cut you loose. 

Your tears are lazy. Your shoulders shudder with your breathing, but there isn't a sound to them, just heat where they well at the corner of your eye and drip over your nose. You sniffle, pressing the back of your hand to your top lip. 

It’s cold in the living room. Immediately hotter when Hotch sits down beside you. You lift your head on instinct, surprised at his sudden presence, tears jolting down your cheeks like flash floods. When you realise it’s him and what you’re doing, you turn your face back to the armrest with held breath. 

He hesitates for a moment.

“Please don’t be mad at me,” you mumble. 

He drapes himself over your contorted frame. Arm weaving under your stomach, face pressing firmly to the nape of your neck, his right hand on your shoulder. “Don’t cry,” he says, hand working into your tense shoulder blade lovingly, his thumb drawing lines. “Don’t cry.” 

“Are you still angry?” 

“No,” he says, his voice ladened with a light sincerity, “I’m not angry.” 

You feel like he’s holding back. Upset again, you attempt to find his hand where it’s cupping the space just below your chest and hold it weakly, smaller fingers on his, looking for a better forgiveness. It doesn’t come. You cry so much it starts to make you feel sick, and concern your weary partner, his frown getting deeper where it’s pressed to your neck. 

“I’m not mad,” he says quietly. “I’m sorry for yelling, honey, is that what’s upset you?” 

You just hate the idea that he could feel against you. It’s like a mixture of regret, anger, and now frustration, because you hadn’t wanted to cry at all, much less be comforted. Although, admittedly, the comforting is holding you together. 

“Come on,” he says, kissing your cheek between words, “let’s sit up before you hurt your back.” 

He sits back and pulls at your arm until you're sitting upright on the sofa. Your gaze falls to your legs, your hand curled uselessly on your thigh, your tears slowly pooling and falling in succession. You scrunch your face up as another wave of misery hits you. 

“I’m s-sorry,” you say. 

“For what?” he asks, far less emotional than you, and yet not completely stony, either. 

“I didn’t mean to cry.” You bring your hand to your face to wipe at your tears and runny nose, irked, not wanting him to see you. 

“It’s okay,” he murmurs.

Hotch leans down to kiss your shoulder, which works to calm you down. Another kiss to your neck and your horrible cloud of emotion starts to clear. 

He can’t hate you if he’s kissing you. 

“I’m sorry I made it a fight,” Hotch says, “I never would have if I thought you’d get this upset.” 

“We can’t not fight just because I might cry.” 

“That’s exactly why we shouldn’t. I never want to make you cry.” 

“I hate when you–” You cut yourself off, the confession sure to make you look small. 

“What?” he prompts gently.

“I hate when you yell because– because you never do.” 

He’d only raised his voice for a few words, and it hadn’t been to your discredit, he’d been telling you to leave it alone. Perhaps if he’d been insulting you it would make sense for you to cry this much, but yelling is part of any argument. You can’t work out why it’s affected you. 

“I feel so stupid,” you confess. 

“I’m sorry, honey,” he says, wrapping his arm behind your back to pull you flush to his side, “I don’t know how it got so out of hand. You’re never stupid, I’m just stubborn. I shouldn’t shout.” 

You twist to be facing him. He frowns at your wet cheeks. 

“Do you want to kiss and make up?” you ask tentatively. 

Hotch doesn’t roll his eyes or laugh at your question —he can tell you’re being serious. “Can we?” he asks, cupping your cheek in his hand. 

He rubs a loving line into the side of your face, and every tight string in you is cut. You kiss him quickly, worried it’ll be a bad one, but find yourself encouraged for a longer one by his hand, your eyes squeezed closed in stress relaxing the longer it goes on. He’s gentle with you, his lips parting atop yours. 

He pulls away. You hide your face in the curve of his neck. 

“Can you forgive me for being cruel?” he asks quietly. 

“You’re not cruel, Aaron. I hate being on a different side from you, that’s all.” 

His first name makes all the difference to him. He sneaks a couple of kisses into your temple and begins to relax as you have, two sad lumps on the couch who only want the comfort of the other. 

You rub loving lines up and down his side, finally feeling better as he breathes his own sigh of relief. 

[pandapetals]

Last Christmas

Last Christmas, Logan wanted to confess how he felt about you but after a misunderstanding he decides against it. Logan kept his distance all year until you confront him this Christmas about it.

logan howlett x fem!reader - angst, fluff, misunderstandings, inspired by the song last christmas by wham!, logan brooding and self-loathing, i imagined X2 logan, confessions, no y/n used, no reader description, not proofread-i got lazy

divider credit: @issyh3ll

Logan had never cared for Christmas. The twinkling lights, the forced smiles, the cheesy carols that spilled out of storefronts—it all felt hollow, a sugar-coated excuse for people to act like the world wasn’t a mess the other 364 days of the year. He used to spend the holidays as far from the festivities as possible, holed up in a dive bar or lost in the woods where no one would try to drag him into their forced cheer.

But this year was different. This year, he had you.

It had crept up on him slowly over the past twelve months—how you’d wormed your way into his guarded heart with your laugh, your quiet kindness, and the way you never treated him like some gruff, damaged thing that needed fixing. Though Logan didn’t have the words to say what you meant to him, the idea of giving you a gift, something that spoke for him, had latched onto his brain and wouldn’t let go.

So he’d spent the better part of the year waiting for any hint of what you liked. He’d browsed through shops he would’ve never set foot in otherwise, scowling at gaudy jewelry and glossy trinkets that all felt... wrong. Too shallow. Too shiny. Too unlike you.

Then one night, it hit him—the answer had been around his neck all along. His dog tags.

To anyone else, they were just scraps of metal, scratched and worn from decades of hard living. But to him, they were the closest thing to permanence he’d ever had. They’d seen wars, far-flung corners of the earth, and darker days than he cared to count. They were a reminder of who he was. And giving them to you… it felt like handing over a piece of himself, the one part of him he thought might mean something.

So he’d wrapped them—if stuffing them into a small velvet box he’d gotten from the mall could count as wrapping—and now he was on his way to find you. His boots crunched against the thin layer of frost coating the school’s courtyard, his breath puffing out in small clouds in the biting December air. He felt… nervous. A rare, foreign sensation crawled beneath his skin and made his fingers itch to light a cigar, though he couldn’t exactly do that while carrying your gift.

When he reached the door to the greenhouse, he paused. You were inside, standing by a table of blooming poinsettias, talking with Ororo. He hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should interrupt, but the sound of your voice drew him closer. It always did.

“I don’t know what to do,” you said, your voice carrying a nervous laugh. Logan felt his chest tighten.

“You could just tell him,” Ororo replied gently, her words muffled slightly by the plants and the glass.

Logan frowned, leaning a fraction closer.

You sighed. “I don’t want to make it awkward. What if I’ve read it all wrong? What if he doesn’t feel the same way?”

The air seemed to grow colder. Feel the same way? His heart dropped like a stone, though he didn’t know why. Maybe it was the uncertainty in your voice. Maybe it was the way Ororo hummed like she was weighing her response, which meant she knew exactly who you were talking about.

“He might surprise you,” Ororo said after a moment.

You gave a short laugh. “I doubt that. I mean, Logan? Come on. He’s nice to me, but it’s not like that. He’s probably just… protective or something. You know how he is.”

Logan felt like the frost had seeped straight into his chest. He’d been frozen to the spot before, but now his body felt like stone. Solid and immovable.

Protective.

You didn’t see him that way. Of course, you didn’t. Why would you? He was rough around the edges and scarred inside and out. A decent friend at best. And while he thought he’d been so damn clever choosing the perfect time and way to tell you how he felt, you’d never even considered it.

His hand closed around the small velvet box in his pocket, his knuckles tightening until the corners of the box dug into his palm. What a stupid idea this had been. A soft scoff escaped him—quiet enough that you wouldn’t hear it, but loud enough to carry all the bitterness crawling up his throat.

Logan turned on his heel and walked away, the sound of your laughter ringing out behind him, the gift burning a hole in his pocket.

Later that evening, Logan lingered near the base of the staircase, his shoulders hunched as he leaned against the railing. The faint smell of pine and cinnamon filled the air, mixing with the warm crackle of the fire in the common room. The mansion was alive with holiday cheer—laughter, the rustle of wrapping paper, and the occasional clink of mugs filled with cocoa or spiked eggnog.

Logan hated it.

Well, he was bitter and it sure didn’t help his mood. He’d spent the better part of the night trying to keep his distance from you, but somehow, you always found him. Like a moth to flame—or maybe it was the other way around, because even now, he couldn’t help watching you from across the room, your laugh lighting up the corners of the mansion like the damn Christmas tree twinkling in the main hall.

He let out a soft, bitter snort under his breath and shook his head. You were doing it again—making his heartache when he should’ve been smart enough to steer clear.

The sound of your voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Are you just going to stand by the stairs the whole time?” you asked, amusement curling the edges of your words. You approached him with a bounce in your step, your hands tucked behind your back.

Logan straightened, crossing his arms over his chest like he was trying to make himself smaller. “What else am I supposed to do?”

You tilted your head, giving him a look that was equal parts teasing and concerned. “You could try… mingling? It’s Christmas, Logan. Have a drink, crack a joke, maybe smile once or twice. You know, festive stuff.”

“Festive stuff.” He huffed out a laugh and looked away, the corners of his mouth twitching despite himself. “Ain’t really my thing.”

Your lips pursed, but the soft smile beneath it remained. “Yeah, I figured. Still, you’ve been sulking all night. What’s up with you?”

Logan stiffened, his jaw tightening. “Nothing,” he muttered, a little too quickly. “Just not in the mood for all this holly-jolly crap.”

You didn’t look convinced, but you didn’t press him either. Instead, you gave a small shrug and leaned against the railing beside him, so close your shoulder brushed his arm. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to keep you company then. If you’re gonna be a grump, you might as well have someone to grump with.”

Logan side-eyed you, his lips twitching again despite the weight on his chest. “You’re too cheerful for that.”

“Cheerful’s good for you,” you quipped, nudging his arm gently. “Balances you out.”

Logan didn’t reply, but the smallest of smirks ghosted across his face, and you caught it before he could hide it.

The two of you stood there in companionable silence for a moment, the noise of the party fading into the background. Your presence was… calming, even if it made his chest ache in a way he couldn’t shake. You didn’t push him for answers or force him to join the party. You just stayed. And for a guy like Logan, that meant more than words ever could.

When you finally moved to stand in front of him, his brow furrowed. “What’re you—”

You pointed upward, and Logan followed your gaze. His stomach sank when he saw it: a sprig of mistletoe dangling above you, tied with a shiny red ribbon.

“Oh, for cryin’ out loud,” he muttered, scowling. “We don’t have to do this. It’s a stupid tradition.”

You raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with his gruffness. “Who says I mind?”

Logan blinked, the words catching him off guard. He stared at you for a long moment, searching your face for any sign you were joking. But you weren’t. There was no teasing smile, no hint of mockery. Just you, standing there with an expression so open, so patient, it made his heart squeeze painfully in his chest.

“…You’re serious?” he asked gruffly.

You gave him a small, encouraging smile. “It’s just a kiss, Logan. I’m not gonna bite.”

His pulse hammered in his ears as he hesitated, his instincts warring with the sharp, quiet longing gnawing at him all night. He didn’t deserve this. Didn’t deserve you.

But you didn’t pull away.

Logan leaned in slowly, his heart pounding harder with each inch that closed between you. But when he got close enough that he could feel the warmth of your breath against his skin, he shifted at the last second, pressing a kiss to your cheek instead. His lips lingered for a fraction of a second longer than they should have, and when he pulled back, his voice was low and rough.

“There. That’s good enough.”

You blinked in surprise, your hand coming up to touch the spot where his lips had brushed. Then you smiled—soft and genuine, the kind of smile that made his knees feel unsteady.

“Logan,” you huffed, your voice soft but insistent. “That’s not—”

“I’m not going to kiss you,” Logan cut in, his tone sharper than he intended. The words came out like a low growl, and the flash of hurt that crossed your face immediately made him regret it. His jaw clenched as he forced himself to look away, his hand instinctively dipping into his pocket to touch the small velvet box tucked there as if the feel of it would ground him. It didn’t.

You took a small step back, your frown deepening. “Okay,” you said quietly, your voice carefully neutral, but he could hear the edge of confusion in it, maybe even disappointment. It made his chest tighten all the more.

“That’s not what I meant,” Logan muttered, his throat tight. He couldn’t bring himself to meet your gaze, staring instead at the polished floorboards or the faint gleam of tinsel strung along the staircase. “It’s just… it’s a stupid tradition.” He gestured vaguely upward without looking, as though that explained everything.

Your eyes searched his face, trying to read him. “You didn’t seem to think it was stupid a second ago.”

Logan winced. Of course, you’d noticed. You could see straight through him. You always could. But the ache in his chest only burned hotter, louder, because no matter what he wanted, no matter how much he wanted to lean in and—

No.

You didn’t feel the same. Not the way he did.

“I don’t want to make this… weird,” he mumbled, the words feeling awkward and heavy in his mouth. He shifted his weight, his fingers still curled around the edges of the box in his pocket, his knuckles brushing the smooth velvet. “So let’s just forget it, alright?”

You studied him for a moment longer, your expression unreadable, before taking another small step back. That distance between you felt like a canyon, and Logan hated how cold the air seemed without you standing so close.

“…Alright,” you said finally, but your voice was quieter now, your smile dimmed at the edges. “If that’s what you want.”

Logan’s heart sank. That wasn’t what he wanted at all. Not even close. But he couldn’t say that. Couldn’t let himself say anything. Because what if you were standing here out of politeness, or because you thought it was a harmless, friendly gesture? What if you laughed or walked away if he told you the truth?

Still, the way you looked at him now made something twist painfully in his gut. You seemed… unsure. Cautious, even, as though you were starting to doubt yourself, and that was the last thing Logan wanted. But he was so tangled up in his own mess of feelings, that he didn’t know how to untangle it for you, let alone himself.

“Look, I didn’t mean—” he began, but you were already turning, folding your arms across your chest like you needed to shield yourself.

“It’s fine, Logan,” you interrupted, a bit too quickly. “I get it. Really. I shouldn’t have…” You trailed off, giving a small, uncertain laugh that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I shouldn’t have assumed.”

Hearing those words from you felt like a punch to the gut. Logan opened his mouth to say something, anything, but his throat locked up, and he couldn’t force the words out. Instead, he just stood there, frozen, watching as you took another step back.

You hesitated as if you wanted to say something more. Your lips parted, but then you shook your head, offering him a soft, strained smile before murmuring, “Merry Christmas, Logan,” and slipping away.

The sound of your retreating footsteps echoed in his ears, growing fainter with each step, and Logan was left standing there, the faint smell of your shampoo lingering in the air and the velvet box burning like a brand in his pocket.

He let out a sharp breath, his shoulders sagging as he leaned back against the railing. The sting of your words—I shouldn’t have assumed—dug deep, and for the first time in a long time, Logan wasn’t sure who he was more upset with: you for misunderstanding, or himself for not setting it straight.

“Merry Christmas,” he muttered, the words bitter and hollow as they fell into the space you’d left behind.

⋆꙳•❅*‧ ‧*❆ ₊⋆

Another year had slipped by, and Christmas loomed on the horizon like a storm cloud you didn’t want to face. The mansion had come alive with garlands of tinsel, glittering lights, and the faint smell of spiced cider wafting from the kitchen. Normally, you loved this season. But this year, you wished you could ignore it altogether.

Last Christmas had been…a mess. Awkward silences, unresolved emotions, and Logan—who’d pulled away until he felt like a stranger. You’d spent the better part of the year trying to make sense of what had gone wrong, but all you’d gotten from him was cold distance and the occasional gruff nod when you crossed paths.

Now, here you were again. Another Christmas. Another opportunity to plaster on a smile and pretend everything was fine. But the truth was, you weren’t sure you had it in you this time. This year hadn’t been kind to you—not by a long shot. A rough breakup, the stress of life at the mansion, and the lingering ache of last Christmas had left you feeling worn thin.

You sighed, staring at your reflection in the fogged-up window of your room. Outside, the mansion grounds were covered in a blanket of snow, the soft glow of holiday lights spilling across the frost like molten gold. It was beautiful. And yet, all you felt was tired.

Maybe you’d just skip it this year. Stay upstairs, hide out with a book or a blanket, and wait for the festivities to pass.

A sharp knock at your door pulled you from your thoughts. Before you could answer, Ororo’s voice drifted through the wood.

“Don’t even think about skipping this party,” she said, her tone lightly scolding but gentle enough to make you crack a small smile.

You opened the door to find her standing there, arms crossed, one brow raised in challenge.

“’Ro,” you began, sighing. “I don’t think—”

“Nope.” She cut you off with a shake of her head. “I don’t want to hear it. I know you’ve had a rough year, and I know you’re not in the mood, but you can’t hide away forever. Come downstairs. Just for a little while. If it’s awful, I promise I’ll sneak you back up here myself.”

Her smile was warm, but there was a glint of determination in her eyes that told you she wasn’t going to take no for an answer.

You hesitated. “I don’t know, ‘Ro. I just—”

“You need this,” she said softly, placing a hand on your arm. “We all do. And who knows? Maybe it’ll be better than you think.”

Her words lingered, nudging at something deep inside you. Finally, you relented with a small sigh. “Fine. But if it sucks, you owe me cookies.”

Ororo’s laugh was light and airy as she looped her arm through yours. “Deal. Now, let’s go.”

The mansion’s common room was buzzing with life by the time you made your way downstairs. The tree stood tall in the corner, its ornaments glittering like tiny stars, while students and staff mingled, exchanging gifts and laughter. The air was warm and smelled of cocoa, cinnamon, and the faintest hint of evergreen.

It should’ve felt magical. It used to feel magical. But as you scanned the room, your gaze inevitably landed on Logan.

He was off to the side, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and his usual scowl etched deep into his face. He looked almost comically out of place amidst the holiday cheer, like a grumpy bear surrounded by elves. And yet, even after everything, you felt that familiar tug in your chest.

Before you could think better of it, you found yourself heading toward the kitchen.

A few minutes later, you reappeared, a mug of steaming hot cocoa in hand. You crossed the room, weaving through the clusters of people until you reached Logan’s corner. He didn’t notice you at first—too busy staring into the middle distance like he was willing the party to end through sheer force of will.

“Hey,” you said softly, holding out the mug.

Logan glanced at you, his brow furrowing. “What’s this?”

“It’s called hot cocoa,” you said with a small smile. “I hear it’s good for sulking.”

His lips twitched, but he didn’t smile. Instead, he hesitated, his sharp eyes scanning your face like he was trying to figure out your angle. “I don’t need cheerin’ up,” he muttered gruffly, though he reached for the mug anyway.

“Good thing that’s not what I’m doing,” you replied, leaning lightly against the wall beside him. “I’m just here to keep you company. Can’t have you scaring off the kids with that face of yours.”

Logan snorted softly. He took a sip of the cocoa as the two of you stood there in silence, watching the party unfold. 

“You’ve been avoiding this, haven’t you?” you asked after a while, keeping your tone light.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stared into the mug like it held all the answers he didn’t have. “Don’t see the point,” he finally said, his voice low.

You glanced at him, frowning. “The point of what?”

“All this,” he said, gesturing vaguely toward the room with the mug. “Christmas. The lights. The... cheer.”

You tilted your head, studying him. There was something in his tone—something heavier than the usual grumpiness he wore like armor. 

“Well,” you said, nudging his arm gently with your elbow, “maybe the point is that it’s not about all that stuff. Maybe it’s just about… being here. With people who care about you.”

Logan shrugged, his usual scowl still in place, but his eyes flickered. Something unspoken moved across his face—an emotion you couldn’t quite place—but just as quickly, it was gone.

“I guess,” he muttered, the words gruff and reluctant.

You huffed a small laugh, crossing your arms as you leaned against the wall beside him. “C’mon, Logan. What’s got you in such a grumpy mood? You’ve been like this all year.”

You weren’t sure why you were pressing him—maybe it was because you missed being around him, or the strange pull in your chest whenever you looked at him. Whatever it was, it made you keep going, even when he shot you a look that practically screamed drop it.

“Thanks for the cocoa,” he said abruptly, his tone dismissive as he pushed away from the wall and headed toward the kitchen.

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden retreat. “Logan—” you called after him, but he didn’t stop.

For a moment, you debated letting him go. He was stubborn, after all, and prying anything out of him was like trying to chisel through solid rock. But something about the way his shoulders hunched, like he was carrying the weight of the world on his back, made you follow him.

You caught up with him in the kitchen, where he stood by the counter with his back to you. The soft glow of the overhead lights cast shadows across the angles of his face, and you could see the tension in the set of his jaw, in the way his hands gripped the edge of the counter like it was the only thing holding him steady.

“You know if I didn’t know any better,” you said, leaning against the doorframe, “I’d think you were trying to avoid me.”

Logan glanced over his shoulder, but he didn’t say anything, his expression guarded as always.

You sighed, stepping further into the room. “Okay, fine. You don’t want to talk about it. I get that. But at least tell me what’s wrong so I can stop guessing.”

“There’s nothing to guess,” he said gruffly, turning back to the counter. “I’m fine.”

“Yeah, sure,” you quipped, crossing your arms. When he didn’t respond, you rolled your eyes. “Alright, let’s see…did Scott say something to piss you off again?”

“No.”

“Jean?”

“No.”

“Did someone steal your cigar stash?”

That one almost got a smirk out of him, but he bit it back, shaking his head. “Just drop it.”

You ignored him, leaning against the counter beside him. “Is it me?” you asked, softer this time.

His shoulders tensed, and for a moment, you thought you might’ve hit the mark. But then he shook his head again, more firmly this time. “No.”

The sharpness of his tone made you pull back, but only for a second. You chewed on your lip, glancing down at your hands. “Well, whatever it is, you’re not the only one having a shitty year,” you said quietly, more to yourself than to him.

Logan frowned, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You shrugged, keeping your gaze fixed on the ground. “Just… this year hasn’t exactly been kind to me either, y’know? Between everything with the team, my family drama, and breaking up with Matt… it’s been a lot.”

Logan froze, his grip on the counter tightening. He turned to face you fully, his brow furrowing. “You and that guy—Matt—you broke up?”

You looked up, surprised by the sharpness in his voice. “Uh, yeah. A while ago, actually. I thought you knew.”

“I didn’t,” he said, his voice lower now, rougher.

Something in his expression shifted, and for the first time all night, he looked… uneasy. His usual mask of indifference slipped just enough for you to see the flicker of something else beneath it—something raw and vulnerable.

You tilted your head, studying him. “Why do you care?” you asked lightly, trying to make it sound casual, but your heart thudded in your chest as the question hung in the air between you.

Logan opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but then he closed it again, his jaw tightening. He turned back to the counter, gripping the edge like he needed to hold himself together. “I don’t,” he muttered, though the edge in his voice said otherwise.

Your brows knitted together, confusion prickling at the edges of your mind. He was acting strange—stranger than usual—and you couldn’t quite figure out why.

“Okay…” you said slowly, watching him carefully. “Well, for what it’s worth, breaking up with him sucked, but I’m trying, y’know? To move forward. To not let it ruin everything.”

Logan’s grip on the counter tightened again, the tension radiating off him in waves. He still wouldn’t look at you, and for some reason, that stung more than it should’ve.

“You should try it sometime,” you added softly, your tone half-joking but laced with sincerity.

He finally glanced at you then, his gaze sharp and searching. There was something in his eyes—something almost... vulnerable. But before you could figure out what it was, he looked away again, his walls slamming back into place.

“I’ll think about it,” he muttered gruffly, pushing away from the counter.

Just like that, he was retreating again, leaving you standing in the middle of the kitchen, the weight of his unspoken emotions hanging in the air like a storm cloud.

You sighed, watching Logan retreat, his broad shoulders hunched as the weight of the world had settled there. Whatever was bothering him, it wasn’t just the holiday blues. It ran deeper than that, buried under layers of that tough, gruff exterior. Pressing him hadn’t gotten you anywhere, but letting it go? That wasn’t an option.

Without giving yourself time to second-guess, you grabbed the empty cocoa mug from the counter, set them aside, and followed him out into the main hall.

“Logan,” you called, your footsteps echoing softly against the hardwood floor as you caught up to him by the staircase.

He paused, one boot planted on the bottom step, his hand gripping the banister. He didn’t turn around at first; he just stood there, shoulders stiff, his head tilted slightly like he was bracing for whatever you were about to say.

You stepped closer, your voice softer now. “Are you really going to sulk your way through another Christmas?”

Logan exhaled a slow, measured breath and turned halfway to face you, his expression shadowed by the warm glow of the holiday lights strung along the banister. “Didn’t know you were keepin’ track of my Christmas habits,” he said dryly.

“Hard not to when you make it so obvious,” you countered, folding your arms. “C’mon, Logan. Just talk to me. What’s going on? Did I do something?”

That last question slipped out before you could stop it, your voice almost hesitant. It wasn’t the first time you’d wondered if this distance between you—this quiet storm of tension—was somehow your fault.

Logan’s brows pulled together, and for a moment, something softened in his expression. “No. It’s not you,” he said, his voice low and rough, but there was an edge of sincerity in it that made your chest tighten.

“Then what is it?” you pressed, taking another step closer. “Because you’ve been acting… different. Ever since—” You stopped yourself, unsure if you should bring up last Christmas, the awkward tension that had hung over the two of you ever since, and the fact that you’d spent the better part of the year trying to piece together what had gone wrong.

Logan looked away, his jaw tight. “Doesn’t matter,” he muttered. “Drop it.”

“Logan—”

“Stop,” he interrupted, his voice sharper now as he glanced at you. “I’m tellin’ you, it doesn’t matter. Leave it alone.”

Your lips parted to argue, but the way his eyes burned into yours stopped you in your tracks.

The air between you felt heavy, you weren’t sure what to say. But before you could find the words, Logan’s gaze shifted. His eyes flicked upward, and his entire body went still like he’d been turned to stone.

Frowning, you followed his line of sight—and that’s when you saw it.

The mistletoe.

It was hanging in the exact spot as last Christmas, tied with the same bright red ribbon, swaying ever so slightly with the movement of the air. You stared at it for a second, the memory of last year crashing back into you: the awkward pause, Logan’s gruff dismissal, and the sting of his words—“I’m not going to kiss you.”

Your gaze flicked back to Logan, who was still frozen in place, his jaw tight and his eyes fixed on the mistletoe like it was mocking him.

“Looks like some traditions die hard,” you said, attempting a joke to lighten the tension, though your voice came out a bit shakier than you’d intended.

Logan’s eyes snapped to yours, and something shifted in his expression. Whatever walls he’d been holding up—whatever force had kept him restrained—cracked in an instant.

“Fuck it,” he muttered under his breath, so low you almost didn’t catch it.

Before you could ask what he meant, Logan stepped forward, his hand lifting to cup your face. His movements were rough, almost desperate, as he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours.

The kiss hit you like a wave, crashing over every thought and doubt you’d had over the past year. For a split second, you froze, your heart hammering in your chest. But then your hands instinctively grabbed onto the front of his flannel shirt, pulling him closer as you kissed him back just as desperately.

Logan groaned softly against your lips, the sound low and almost vulnerable, and it made your knees feel like jelly. His other hand settled on your waist, rough and warm even through the fabric of your sweater, and he kissed you like he was pouring every unspoken word he’d been holding back into you.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing hard, your foreheads resting against each other.

“Wow,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Logan let out a breathless chuckle, shaking his head slightly. “That wasn’t how I planned that.”

You pulled back just enough to look at him, your fingers still gripping the soft fabric of his flannel shirt, your breaths mingling. His lips were still flushed from the kiss, his gaze softer now in a way that made your heart ache.

“Planned what?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, but you couldn’t stop the slight tremor in it.

Logan hesitated, his hands lingering on your waist as though he didn’t want to let go. But then, with a deep breath, his fingers left your sides and fumbled into the pocket of his flannel. You frowned slightly, watching as his usually steady hands moved clumsily, almost nervously.

“Last Christmas,” he muttered, his voice low and gravelly, “I wanted to—I planned on giving you this.”

From his pocket, he pulled out a small, worn velvet box. It wasn’t flashy; the edges were slightly frayed, and it looked like it had been sitting in his pocket for months. But the sight of it was enough to make your breath catch.

His thumb brushed over the fabric of the box, his brow furrowed as if he was searching for the right words. “I, uh… I was gonna give this to you last year. And, uh…” He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable, his usual gruff demeanor faltering in the face of vulnerability.

Your gaze flicked between him and the box, your heart hammering in your chest. “Logan,” you said softly, “what’s in there?”

Finally, he opened it.

Inside sat a pair of dog tags—his dog tags. They were old and worn, and you’d seen Logan wear every day since you’d known him. But seeing them here, nestled in the box like some kind of treasure, made your stomach flip.

You stared at them, your mind racing to catch up.

“I was gonna give these to you,” Logan said quietly, his voice rough at the edges. “Thought… I don’t know. Thought it’d be a good way to tell you how I feel. Thought maybe you’d… I don’t know, wanna be my girl.” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head at himself. “Damn, that sounds stupid.”

Your eyes shot up to his, wide and stunned. “Wait—you were going to ask me to be your girlfriend? Last Christmas?”

He winced slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah. That was the plan.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Logan hesitated, his jaw tightening as he looked away, his thumb brushing absently over the edge of the box. “I heard you talkin’ to ‘Ro. Heard you say somethin’ about me just bein’ protective, that you didn’t feel that way about me.” His voice was quieter now, almost like he was ashamed of admitting it. “Figured I’d read it wrong. Figured maybe I was just foolin’ myself, thinkin’ you’d see me like that.”

Your heart dropped into your stomach. “Logan,” you said softly, stepping closer, your hand instinctively reaching up to cup his cheek. He flinched slightly at the touch, but then leaned into it, his eyes closing briefly.

“That’s not what I meant,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I was scared. I thought you didn’t see me like that. I didn’t know what to do.”

His eyes opened, and the way he looked at you—like he was hearing those words for the first time—made your chest ache.

The air between you felt heavy like the weight of a year’s worth of misunderstandings was finally beginning to lift. Without saying a word, you leaned in and kissed him.

The kiss was slower, softer, but no less desperate. Your hands slid up to his face, pulling him closer as his arms wrapped around you, holding you like he was afraid you might disappear. When you finally broke apart, your forehead rested against his.

“I’m such an idiot,” Logan muttered, his voice laced with relief.

“You’re not an idiot,” you whispered, your lips curving into a small smile. “But you do have terrible timing.”

He chuckled softly at that, the sound rumbling low in his chest. Then, as if suddenly remembering, he held up the box again, his expression shifting into something almost shy. “So, uh… you still want these?”

You stared at him for a beat before laughing softly, your chest tightening warmly. “Of course I do.”

He let out a breath before his lips quirked into the faintest of smiles. Carefully, he took the dog tags from the box and stepped behind you, the metal cool in his hands as he reached around to clasp them around your neck.

“There,” he said gruffly, his voice softer now. “Looks better on you anyway.”

You glanced down at the tags, your fingers brushing over the engraved metal as your heart swelled. You turned to face him, your eyes shining. “You know this means you’re stuck with me now, right?”

“Guess I can live with that,” he replied, his smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, though his voice held an unmistakable warmth.

You laughed, reaching up to tug him down into another kiss, your lips brushing his as you murmured, “Merry Christmas, Logan.”

He grinned against your lips, his hands settling on your waist. “Merry Christmas, darlin’.”

[deesseshesca]

PAC: What does my life look like once I hit my full potential?

Hope I make it out of here.

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PILE 1

Oh, bestie, I feel you on this. Balancing hustle and chill vibes is so important when you’re in that “level-up” era, especially with the Lovers card as your overall energy—it’s giving alignment and divine choices. Here’s the tea:

First, trust that this new career opportunity isn’t just a job; it’s a gateway to something magical. Your next lover is literally waiting for you on the other side of this. Like, how iconic is that? The universe is basically screaming, “This is part of your glow-up!”

But let’s keep it real: grinding too hard can mess with your flow. So, schedule your downtime like it’s a business meeting—whether that’s journaling, bingeing your fave show, or vibing out with a playlist that makes you feel main character energy. Chill time isn’t lazy; it’s necessary. You can’t pour from an empty cup.

When it comes to hustle, think of it like this: show up and give your best, but don’t overthink it. Be intentional, not overwhelmed. Remember, the Lovers card is also about harmony—so treat your hustle like a love story. Be passionate, but know when to step back and breathe.

And here’s the real plot twist: this opportunity isn’t just about meeting them. It’s about meeting the next, more evolved version of you. They’ll love that version of you, and so will you. So take the leap, but keep your soul soft. You’ve got this. ❤️

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PILE 2

Okay, imagine this: when you hit your full potential, your life looks like the perfect balance of confidence and rest. You’ve worked hard to know your worth and never settle, and now you’re living in a way that matches that energy. Think quiet mornings in a space that feels so you, reflecting on your growth while sipping your favorite coffee—unbothered and untouchable.

But here’s the thing: getting there doesn’t mean you’re grinding 24/7. You’ll learn that slowing down is the power move. For example, instead of saying yes to everything, you’ll get super intentional about what aligns with your long-term goals. If an opportunity feels off or doesn’t match your vision, you’ll confidently pass, knowing that better things are waiting.

That self-love you’ve mastered? It’ll make you a magnet for respect. People will see how deeply you value yourself and will match that energy—or they’ll fall off, and honestly, you won’t care. It’s like you’ll finally be surrounded by relationships, jobs, and opportunities that deserve you because you’ve set the bar so high.

Here’s the practical advice: stay open to adjusting your plans, even when it’s uncomfortable. Sometimes, what looks like a setback is actually setting you up for something bigger. For example, if one path feels blocked, don’t fight it—pivot. Trust that your ability to choose yourself will always lead you to the right place.

And don’t forget to rest without guilt. It’s okay to take breaks to recharge because that’s when your best ideas will come to you. Picture yourself booking a solo trip, splurging on the nicest accommodations, and using that time to dream even bigger while staying grounded in gratitude. You’re leveling up and protecting your peace, and that’s the ultimate glow-up. 🌱✨

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PILE 3

Alright, picture this: once you hit your full potential, your life is like a perfectly designed blueprint, executed flawlessly. You’re running the show—waking up early, knocking out your goals, and moving through life like you own it. Your schedule is tight but purposeful, and everything you do feels like a step toward something even bigger.

You’ll probably have this fire inside you to keep starting new projects—like launching that dream business or taking on leadership roles that actually challenge you. People will look at you and think, Wow, they’ve really got it together. But behind the scenes, you’ll know it’s because you’ve built systems for yourself that work. For example, you might have a weekly ritual where you plan every detail, from career moves to self-care, so nothing feels chaotic.

That being said, you’ll need to make space for the unknown too. Life won’t always go exactly as planned, and that’s okay. Think of it like this: when things feel uncertain, don’t freeze up. Instead, take a moment, check in with yourself, and adjust. For example, if a big opportunity comes up and doesn’t look like what you expected, lean into it—it might just be the thing that pushes you further than you imagined.

And here’s a practical tip: track your progress. Maybe it’s a journal where you write down your wins every day, no matter how small, or a calendar where you block out “me time” just as seriously as work tasks. The key is staying grounded while keeping your eyes on the horizon.

Your focus on success will still fuel you, but it’ll feel balanced. Imagine being so confident in what you’ve built that you can finally relax a little, knowing that your foundation is unshakable. You’re not just surviving anymore; you’re thriving. And it’s all because you created the structure to let your ambition flow without burning out. 💡

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PILE 4

Okay, so here’s the vibe: when you hit your full potential, your life is gonna feel like this beautiful balance of self-love and success. But here’s the thing—you’ve been carrying a lot, especially with your sibling’s struggles. It’s tough because you want to help, but you have to realize that in order to become the best version of yourself, you have to put yourself first. And I know that’s easier said than done, especially when you love someone so much and want to see them thrive.

You’ve been trying to fix things, trying to heal others, but you can’t keep pouring from an empty cup. You’ve been holding onto a lot of emotional weight, and that’s been draining you. It’s okay to step back and focus on your own growth. I promise, you’re not abandoning anyone by taking care of yourself. In fact, the more you work on you, the more you’ll be able to help them from a place of peace.

But it’s gonna hurt a bit—letting go of that guilt is a process. You’ll have moments where you feel torn, but trust me, your potential and your future are calling you to take care of you. Your dreams, your goals—they matter, and they deserve your attention. It’s about putting boundaries in place, even if it feels hard at first.

You might not have all the answers right now, and that’s fine. You don’t have to have it all figured out, but you’ll get there. Things will come into focus when you start giving yourself permission to live your life without guilt. It’s gonna feel so freeing once you realize that your own peace and happiness are the foundation for everything else to fall into place.

So take it slow. Focus on your journey, even if it means you need to step away from the chaos a little. You deserve to put yourself first, because the version of you that is fully healed, confident, and at peace is going to be the one that thrives and makes all those big dreams come true. Your success starts with you, and you’re worthy of every bit of it. ❤️

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[cliosunshine]

Thinking about wearing promise rings with Jason...

Warning: NSFW at the end

you got the idea of buying matching promise rings after scrolling too far on Pinterest on a lazy day and seeing a post with a couple wearing puzzle pieces promise rings

you fell in love with the idea and knowing your first year anniversary with Jason was coming up, you wanted to surprise him

now, getting his ring size wasn't the easiest task as he was always on alert, even when asleep. you had to trick him with a silly string game to finally get it

hiding your excitement was even worse

he could read right through you, but chose not to comment on the way you looked at his hands with a goofy smile on your face and sighed to yourself before returning to your current task

the date eventually came and you were an anxious wreck

you started to second guess every decision you had made

was the ring too much? maybe he would think that the heart shape was too childish. maybe he didn't like wearing rings-

you hadn't even gotten that physical yet, deciding to take things slow as relationships in general were something fairly new for the both of you

what if you were overstepping and he saw the ring as an oppressive symbol of ownership and forced commitment instead of a declaration of love and loyalty?

but his reaction to it couldn't have surprised you more

you had spent a wonderful day with Jason, going to a museum exhibition you had been keeping your eyes on for weeks and then having a picnic in Gotham Park, basking all the sunlight you could get even on a winter day. the two of you drank hot chocolate and held hands like two teenagers in love.

you lived for these days, where you could admire Jason being so carefree and appreciate the small things in life.

you may or may not have taken a dozen candid photos of him.

jason had been all smiles throughout the whole day, so after eating the dinner you had cooked together in your apartment, silence settling for the first time that day between the two of you, you got nervous real quick.

"you alright, sweetheart?"

his gaze was on you the whole time. you were cuddled up next to one another on the couch, a thick sherpa blanket over your bodies. you didn't look away from the tv, the show playing wasn't that good but you couldn't dare to look at him, suddenly shy.

"mh mh, everything's ok honeybun"

he chuckled at the pet name but didn't relent, tilting your chin with two of his fingers so that you would meet his gaze.

physical touch was something fairly new between the two of you. although you had been dating for a year now, you respected Jason's boundaries that he had set up right at the beginning, and both of you were taking small steps to slowly overcome them. so far, you had managed to make him feel at ease with holding hands, hugging him, and cuddling. he was still coming to terms with the fact that you actually wanted him to touch you and wanted him in your space.

this week you got close to kissing, but you were quick to reassure him when he freaked out, apologising for not being ready.

you were there for him, and you wanted to show him.

so him initiating physical touch? oh yeah, that was a big step, alright.

you released a shaky breath, looking away, "I really want to give you something, love"

Jason loosened the grip he had on your chin and rested his hand on his lap, a faint blush covering the top of his ears and cheeks. he looked so pretty with the warm lamp light casting golden hues on his flustered face.

"Oh, yeah?" you nodded, taking his hand in yours and running your thumb over his slightly bruised knuckles.

you got up, going to your room to retrieve the small velvet box you had meticulously picked in the jewellery shop in Gotham Heights.

you returned and sat on the couch, pulling both of your knees to your chest, holding the box in between your legs and your torso for dear life.

"I've been thinking about us, Jay, and I love how much progress we've made in our relationship in just one year," your eyes were going teary as you smiled at him. Jason could only look at you as you paused, gears clearly turning in his head.

"I want to be there for you. I want to know more of you as our relationship progresses. Before even starting dating, we'd been friends for a good couple of years and I've been grateful that you allowed me to come into your life and let me have a look at your soul, slowly trusting me to get closer and closer to you. This- this gift I have for you- I don't want you to see it for something that it wasn't meant to be in the first place. This gift to you is a promise that I'm making you. It's a promise that I'll be by your side because I want to, and it is in no way, shape, or form a way to hold you down or force you to some form of bond you're not ready for yet. I love you, Jason, and I hope you will love this gift, too"

With tears running down your cheeks, you pried the small bow open and presented the two silver rings in the inside.

Jason was holding onto your left hand the entire time, looking at you with wide eyes and suddenly feeling like his heart was caught up in his throat.

he lowered his haze onto the rings and subconsciously squeezed your hand tighter.

there were two rings in the box. one of them was daintier than the other and had a plain heart in the middle of it, while the other one was thicker in width and had the same heart, this time cut out so it would accodomate the first ring.

jason held back tears as he looked at you.

"these are for us?"

you nodded with a laugh, wiping the remaining tears on your face. you were amused at the starstruck look on his face. all he could do was look between you and the rings and squeeze your hands.

"do you like them? I was worried the heart shape would have been too childish...if they are it's ok I can go change them for another pair of rings. or if you don't like wearing rings at all it's ok, I'm sorry I should have really asked you about it, I know it's a lot-"

the feeling of Jason's chapped lips on yours shut you up. with wide eyes, you tried to understand what was going on before shutting them tightly and melting against his lips, pulling him closer. it only lasted a couple of seconds, but as you pulled away, you felt as if all of your breath had been sucked out of your lungs. he had soft lips, and the thought of what just happened made your head spin.

jason, too, seemed to be in a haze if his blushing face was anything to go by. he rested his forehead against yours, pulling in closer, "I love them."

you were so flustered you couldn't speak. instead, with a very wide smile and a lovestruck expression on your face, you picked up his ring, prompting him to do the same with yours.

you started to read the engraving inside of it - better yet, you were reciting it while looking at him.

"You are my heart, my life,-"

jason was quick to catch on, completing the quote.

"-my one and only thought."

now both of you were sporting goofy grins as you leaned in and exchanged a chaste kiss.

Jason looked at the engraving, smiling to himself, "Conan Doyle, uh?"

you chuckled as you curled up at his side, resting your head on his shoulder, "mh mh. It was the first book you had recommended me after I declared my undying hatred for historical adventures,"

he kissed the top of your head, pulling you even closer than imaginable, "you wanna do the honours?"

you gingerly held your (his) ring up and took his left hand, sliding it on his ring finger and then kissing it.

he did the same, this time holding eye contact with you as he kissed the ring and you swore you heard fireworks explode in your head at how in love you were with him that moment.

from that day on, neither of you took your rings off

the only time it wasn't on Jason's finger was when he went on patrol, opting to wear it by hanging it on the silver chain he always had around his neck

it also had become an habit of his to kiss you and then kiss the ring on his hand before heading out on patrol, symbolising a promise of coming back to you by the end of the night

he also started fidgeting with it during stakeouts and when he felt anxious, realising that it brought him an immense sense of calm by having a reminder of you and your love on him

but when he wasn't on patrol he would always, and i mean always wear it on his finger

he was honestly more excited than you were to show it off to everybody

Dick was low-key jealous to not have had something like that with Kory

what jason loved the most tho was when you'd put your heart through his

the first time that you did it was when the two of you were splayed out on the couch, enjoying a slow Sunday morning in blissed silence

he was reading a book and slowly felt you tugging his left hand towards you

he let you at first, without looking at what you were doing, but then when he heard you giggle to yourself, he promptly turned his head

and he thanked every God in existence for that because as he did, he caught you piecing the two hearts together, giggling as you two were now ring finger to ring finger

He felt so ashamed after you left, his ears and throat flushed pink as he jerked off to the image of the rings fitting perfectly together.

Jason chanted your name in a breathy whisper as he stroked his cock with his left hand, moaning shamelessly as the ring glinted under the low lights of his apartment and imagining it was your hand and your ring touching him while whispeing sweet nothings in his ears. The mental image was enough to send him over the edge and make him cum all over his hand, coating the ring in the process.

Jason whined as he threw his head back, his whole body trembling.

he thought about what it would look like when you two will be ready to have sex for the first time.

he thought about intertwining your hands together as he slid into you for the very first time and what faces you'd make, what pretty sounds he could manage to pull out of you.

he thought about seeing your ringed hand making its way across his body, and then his mind went foggy as he pictured his own hand wrapping around your throat, his ring resting against your skin creating such a beautiful contrast between the lovely heart shape and the downright nasty things he wanted to do to you.

safe to day, he wanted to see the rings slotting together more often

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Meaningful Kiss

SUMMARY: Would they make Public Displays of Affection? If not, are they protective instead? And how do they show you how much they truly love you through their kisses?

CHARACTERS: OB students (Riddle, Leona, Azul, Jamil, Vil, Idia & Malleus)

TAGS: Bullet Points; Fluff; GN Reader; Established Relationship, Kissing, Flirting, Slightly Suggestive(?)

WORD COUNT: An average of 300 words per character.

COMMENTS: This has been a WIP for so long that I don't even remember how I got the idea to write it. And in my case, being a WIP for a long time means that I wrote one part and then went on to write something else and ended up forgetting about this one for a long time. 😅 But now I've finished it.

I hope you enjoy 💋

Meaningful Kiss 2 (Ace, Deuce, Jack, Epel, Sebek)

Meaningful Kiss 3 (Ruggie, Jade, Kalim, Silver, Lilia)

Meaningful Kiss 4 (Cater, Trey, Floyd, Rook)

CONTEXT: You two are in an established relationship already.

Riddle is not really the PDA type. The most he would do with you in public could be walk arm in arm like you were royalty. In terms of kisses, a kiss on the back of your hand or, at the most, on your cheek.

When the two of you are alone on a normal day, he will probably be working on his student and Housewarden duties. But whenever you tell him he should take a break, he'll get up, sit next to you and hug you, like you're a charger.

If you're relaxing together, he’ll be reading a book with one arm around you. Either around your shoulders or around your waist, which you told him you like the most. He’ll also laying his head on your shoulder.

The most meaningful kisses are, of course, the kisses on your lips. He's not the type to kiss you on the lips just like a "good morning" thing. These kisses are always sweet and lovely. His hands would be on your cheeks to caress them.

He needs you, but his kisses aren't needy. They are the caring type. You are his precious rose. In contrast to his strict self, the way he shows you that he loves you is through soft affection and care.

A relationship with Leona Kingscholar comes with your rights and duties. Some of your rights: He will buy you things; you’re allowed to pet his ears; he will be your protector and you can sleep with him in his comfy bed and have breakfast in bed (he ordered someone to bring it to you two)

Some of your duties: let him use you as a pillow (be it your thighs in the greenhouse or your chest in bed.); don't be too annoying to him; dealing with his “smugness” on a daily basis and being his and his alone, the same way he's yours.

He's kinda into PDA, but more in the sense of telling anyone who might look at you with interest that you're his. Or anyone who looks down on you that if they do the slightest thing against you they will have to suffer at his claws. If the other person is a friend of yours, he'll let it go.

He has at least two types of kisses. The first is the “make out” kisses. When you're alone and he wants you (if you want him at the time too of course), he would give you deep kisses, kiss your neck and run his hands over you. Either he would make you sit on his lap our make you lie down with him.

His real meaningful kisses are the second ones. The "lazy" kisses. The first ones are linked to his pride. These second ones are much more affectionate. Usually happen when he's still sleepy, like when he just woke up from a good nap. He may lazily put his arms around you and kiss your cheek, neck, or shoulder gently. This is perhaps the most vulnerable state he will let you see. And so it will only happen in private.

Azul is also not very adept at PDA, but he is still capable of putting an arm around you and kissing your cheek to show how well he takes care of you.

He's already quite charming and pleasant with his potential clients, so with you it's not much different in public. The only difference is that with you it's genuine.

Do I need to say that dating him is like dating a Mafia Boss? AKA: Nobody disrespects my loved ones, unless they want a certain head in their beds when they wake up. (reference to The Godfather)

Being alone with him on a normal day would probably be being with him in his VIP room at Mostro Lounge. You're sitting on one of the couches while he's dealing with his paperwork. He’s probably the type that likes to be teased a little. So, when you see that he is no longer that attentive to the papers, go up to him, play with his hair, kiss his cheek, that will put him in the mood for you.

He’s the opposite of Leona. The kisses he usually gives you are sweet and charming like him. Because that's the side of him he want to show you the most. He'll kiss your cheek and lips affectionately. Let you sit on his lap. The side he most wants to show you is the confident and caring side. The one who shows you that you can trust him and that he will take care of you.

His most meaningful kiss is the opposite. The one related to his needy side. He shows you his most vulnerable side when he is the one who needs you. And that's what everything he does shows you. His kisses, his hugs, his begging look, all screaming “I need you! Please don’t leave me.”

Jamil is completely against PDA! He doesn't like to stand out or draw attention and PDA always do that to the people involved. He won't hold your hand or kiss you. To the point where no one knows if you're even dating or not.

The only way he would show his affection for you in public is if that is a way to protect you. If someone looks down on you and he feels that that persons can be a threat to you, he will show that he is an even greater threat to them. In these moments, his protective side is stronger. He is Kalim's protector by obligation, but yours by free will.

It's when you're alone that he'll make up for his lack of affection of the day. On a normal day, you would be alone in the kitchen. He would probably be cooking for Kalim, but making something for you two as well. He’ll let you taste things as he cooks. He feels more relaxed when he's with you and even more so when you hug him.

When you're relaxing together, he would spoil you. Give you soft and sweet kisses. Pet your head and play with your hair. Give you massages and feed you things like grapes or small snacks. Or even taking the first mouthful of food he made for you to your mouth and seeing your delighted face.

The most meaningful gestures of affection he shows you are related to his most lustful side (lust for power) when you are the one spoiling him. The one moment in his life where he is no longer the servant, but the master. This time, he kisses your lips, your neck and everything he's entitled to. He tends not to show his feelings but with you he will show how much he loves you and how much he wants you.

In reality, Vil neither likes nor dislikes PDA. He's kind of indifferent to it. The only reason he doesn't do it with you is because it would have bad consequences for both of you for his work as an actor and model. The most he can do is walk hand in hand with you.

Even though he doesn't show it much in public, everyone will know that you two are dating. He'll make sure of it, even if it's just information on the internet or him straight out saying it. On the one hand to protect you, because only an idiot would try to mess with Vil Schoenheit's partner. On the other hand to discourage anyone who has the slightest interest in you. “Honey, they’re with me. Do you really think you can even get to my heels? So, don't bother them.”

The only possible problem for you is that he's going to be more strict now that you're dating. From the outside it looks like he can be mean and demanding with you. But the truth is, he wants you to look your best so people know why he fell in love with you. He wants others to see on the outside how beautiful you are on the inside.

But of course, sometimes it's too much and you'll challenge him. Be stubborn and carefree. The best part? He's so into it! Your way of teasing each other.

He kisses you every now and then when you're alone. But when you put him on this mood, all his affection mix with boldness intensifies. Oh, of course, you wanted him to remind you what the reward is for listening to him. The answer is: appreciating you with the rest of his senses, sensual kisses on your lips, jaw, neck and shoulders; his hands running over your body, him delighting in your wearing the perfume he made for you. He'll show you how beautiful you are to him.

PDA is not even an option! There is no way! Na-a! Listen, Idia loves you, really, he promises BUT going with you to places where couples usually go is already a lot and holding hands is the absolute most he can do. IF that even happens.

He wouldn’t be the jealous type. If someone shows an interest in you, at least they have good taste. But if someone looks down on you or goes so far as to disrespect you, then he goes from 0 to 100. Do these worms know he can hack them? exposing things that can completely ruin their lives until the day they pass through the gates of the underworld? Ortho can help protect you in the meantime.

Since he is a 0 to 100 guy, his kisses are the same. His "0" kisses are lazy. Mainly light, on your shoulder and neck, because you would be sitting on his lap, chest to chest, while he plays on his PC and you on your phone on his back. He also gives you casual "hi" and "bye" kisses on the lips.

Then there is his "100" kisses. Those are the real meaningful kisses, the "I love you" kisses. They are passionate but kind. Because loving you is different for loving a game, it's like he found his balance. they are not needy, but appreciative, the real embodiment of "OMG, I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!" He also becomes bolder as he feels comfortable with you. He loves to tease you until he makes you shut him up with a kiss. The stronger your relationship is, the more daring and smug he will be.

Malleus is quite indifferent to PDA. However, he is not the type to initiate the exchange of affection, but he is the type to reciprocate it. He won't kiss or hug you out of nowhere. But if you kiss or hug him, he will definitely reciprocate.

And he's going to be extremely casual about it. I mean, it's two lovers interacting with each other. As young humans would say: What's the big deal? However, he still distinguishes between the affection he gives you in public and the affection he gives you in private.

In public, his hugs are polite, and his kisses are light but loving.

In private, what he wants most is simply to be with you. He loves it when you sit on his lap and he cuddles you, and he likes it even more when you cuddle him back. He maintains his composure quite well, but you know that just your kisses on his checks already melt him inside.

His regular kisses in privet are sweet, loving, showing you that you are the most precious thing in his life. And very recurrent. He may not be the type to initiate the exchange of affection in public, but he certainly is in private.

All his kisses are meaningful, but the most meaningful of all are the one he gives you on your lips while smiling. The kind of kiss he can't stop himself from giving you. You may not even notice when they happen, because you are simply being yourself.

He feels the need to kiss you passionately when you do something that reminds him of why he fell in love with you. The moments when you do something that may seem simple, but for him it is something extraordinary. And if you don't realize at first how incredible that small gesture can be for him, it only makes you more charming.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[pricetagged]

Idk how to label this. Wifehunter John?

The idea of possessive/obsessive John manipulating a situation and stealing a wife for himself struck me, so just coughing the idea up while I sneak away for a coffee before I actually have to start work in 20 mins 💖 entirely unedited, abrupt ending

Masterlist l Part Two

________

For someone married to his job, he has put quite a bit of thought into what he is looking for in a wife. Namely, that she's already married.

His reasoning is threefold. He can admit to himself, firstly, that it satisfies his need for control. Competency. He's a busy man with a demanding job. Not quite retired yet, no time to build his own from scratch. With this, he gets a wife boxed up and ready-trained. Broken in.

Secondly, the need for control bleeds into his saviour complex. She'll need a shoulder to cry on, someone strong and capable to get her back on her feet. She'll be feeling a little fragile. Needy. Perfect.

And thirdly, it does something wild to his jealous, possessive streak. The idea of taking something precious, of breaking her bond to another man and tying it to him? Delicious. The idea that she used to be someone else's, that he has to imprint himself onto her knowing that in doing so he is erasing the imprint of another man? It has his teeth aching, grinding even as heat rises in his belly. Stirs at him.

The idea swirls lazily in the back of his mind, never quite finding the right time or right partner. He bats at it a few times, lazy cat playing with the notion, seeing how far it can stretch before it snaps. Eyes up pretty things everywhere he goes, glancing down at their left hands just to check, but nothing quite tugs on that string. Until one day it does when he's outfitting the security system at your house.

It's side work. Cash in hand, word of mouth. Something to keep him busy when on mandated leave. Something to keep in mind as his retirement from active duty creeps closer. And your husband is a real piece of work, all blustering braggadocio energy. Young buck, not knowing his place in the herd. Not knowing that he'd be better scratching his antlers off on a tree than going head-to-head with a gristled thing like John.

It's like John's energy, his presence in the house, sends alarm bells ringing in your husband's mind (Be the man. Don't back down. Puff up your chest and strut). And it plays so perfectly into John's hands because your young buck doesn't realise that what he's really doing is fawning. To John. (Look at me, be impressed by me!) He makes his biggest mistake in putting you down in front of him, trying to sidle up to John and create some kind of desperate camaraderie. Ordering you to bring tea to the men at work. Rolling his eyes at your attempts to talk, to ask questions about the work being done. Waving you off so he can stand and watch the proceedings. Like he could supervise. Like he has any clue what he's doing.

Only the promise of the long game keeps John from levelling him with a hard look, from calling him outblike he'd love to.

He hears you both in the in the other room, having swatted the young buck off like a particularly virulent pest. Noisy and bothersome. Not needed - or wanted- in this home. And entirely too stupid to realise that John wasn't being jocular in his dismissal.

You've been scribbling away for the past few days, something occupying your time, keeping you happy and hidden away in the kitchen.

"You're not serious, are you?"

"Well, yes," he hears the slight quaver in your voice before you find your footing. You've got at least a bit of spine. Good. "You said that I should find an occupation. Not just 'laze around the house playing housewife'. This is what I-"

"Oh come on, I didn't mean- You don't think that this is viable, do you?"

"Well... I love gardening. And I'm good at it. And there's no reason that it can't be more accessible for people, especially with the current economic-"

He cuts you off with a scoff. "Dear, just- I don't want you to be disappointed. I think you don't quite understand the time and effort this will take. And you know nothing of marketing, publishing. Why don't you put that away and start on dinner?"

And oh, isn't that delicious. He can taste it now, that idea that has been swirling. It's thick, almost tangible on his tongue. The tension in the house, the bitter lacryma of stifled tears. The slight acidity of words you left unsaid. It has his mouth watering, pupils dilating.

And when he's packing up that evening, tools and materials tucked in to the heavy workman's case, he swings by the kitchen on his way out. Catches the way something is jutting out slightly from the bin, lid slightly askew. When he pulls it out he realises it's some kind of notebook, carefully (lovingly) bound. Pictures pasted, mindmaps and notes and plans scribbled in the margins. Your gardening tips. Kitchen scraps, window boxes, rooftop plots. Urban gardening. It's deeply thoughtful, well researched.

A labour of love, lying in the rubbish.

Sweet, clever little thing. That just won't do.

He leaves your house with a little piece of you tucked away in his toolkit and a nice plan forming. He'll be back, of course, not quite finished with his work. He'd planted a few little links into the system he'd almost installed, projecting not just to the monitor in your home but also in his. Got to keep his eyes on you, keep you safe and cared for in ways that your useless husband can't.

Finding that book was a boon. He'd say it was divinely ordained if he believed in all that. It weighs heavy in his toolbox as he whistles out the door.

Now, how to get you alone and return it to you..

________________

This idea may have been done before? I'm not sure, sorry! I've seen a lot of possessive John floating around. Tagging @stellewriites because I said I would last time, and you've been so encouraging of my nonsense.

Anyway I've got like 4 long-form WIPs that I'm working on, so I may never actually write this one but thought I'd share since that image set I just reblogged made me feral 💖

[witchywithwhiskey]

how about ransom and “i mean, i got what i wanted, didn’t i?” 👀🫶🏼

can't resist a dare

pairing: best friend!ransom drysdale x female reader

warnings: 18+ content (minors dni!!!), smut, oral sex (m receiving), cock worship, taking nude photos/sending nude photos, filming/recording/taking photos during sex, little bit of exhibitionism, come marking, come facial, light bdsm, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, daddy kink, pet names (baby), aftercare, friends to lovers, revenge on a mean/rude ex

word count: 4,300ish

a/n: whoops, this ended up being longer than i anticipated 😬 but i loved the premise i came up with too much to scrap it and try to write something shorter so here we go!! i just loved the idea of best friend!ransom being a petty perv and reader being just as much of a petty perv 🤭 anyway i hope you enjoy!!! ♡♡♡

You never could resist a dare from Ransom Drysdale. 

The devastatingly handsome grandson of Harlan Thrombey had been your best friend since you were children running around his grandfather’s spooky old house while your families spent time together. Even though you were both grown adults, Ransom still knew how to push all your buttons, and he knew that if he dared you to do something, you’d do it. 

Which was how you’d ended up in the cramped bathroom on the first floor of the Thrombey mansion during Harlan’s May Day party, your body bent over at the waist and your arm contorted behind your back to take a photo of the tiny little thong you’d worn beneath your sundress. 

Ransom had dared you to take a photo of your ass and send it to your ex. You, of course, had risen to the challenge and accepted the dare. 

You hadn’t had nearly enough champagne to make you so reckless, but there was something about your oldest friend that brought out your competitive spirit. Ransom was the only one who could get you to do such things, but you enjoyed being pushed outside of your comfort zone. Plus, you knew your best friend wouldn’t make you do anything that would actually hurt you.

In fact, if you were honest with yourself, there was a part of you that was perversely pleased to be taking such an obscene photo of yourself while some of the richest families in Massachusetts milled around just outside the door. The thought of getting caught taking naughty pictures turned you on more than you wanted to admit, so you hurried up and took the photos. 

When you were done, you picked one you liked and sent it to your ex with a smirk on your face, thinking he should be so lucky as to see your ass one last time. 

Leaving the bathroom, you strutted through the party looking for Ransom, feeling smug about completing the dare. You caught his eye when you entered the library, and even across the room, you could see the amusement dancing in his crystal blue eyes. You made your way through the crowd with a pep in your step, but halfway through, your phone vibrated with a response from your ex.

You opened the text and wished you hadn’t.

Didn’t know you were such a desperate slut, but if you really need dick so bad, I guess I’ll let you ride mine, baby. I know you loved bouncing on it like a whore. 

Your expression twisted into a scowl, and you looked up at your best friend, who was suddenly in front of you. Hurt wrapped around your heart, a part of you feeling—perhaps unfairly—that Ransom should’ve known your ex would text something vile back to you. 

“I did your dare, are you happy now?” you hissed at your best friend, taking out all your hurt and anger on Ransom. You knew you were much more angry at yourself, and your ex, for his hurtful response, but your best friend was the safest target at the moment.

Annoyingly, Ransom looked unaffected by your fury, the satisfied smirk on his face never wavering even as you continued to glare at him. When he responded, his voice was a lazy drawl that reminded you he couldn’t have known the effect of his dare.

“I mean, I got what I wanted, didn’t I?”

Before you could stop yourself, you let out a frustrated huff and opened your phone to the text message you’d gotten from your ex, turning the screen to your best friend so he could read it. “Is this what you wanted?” you sneered, knowing full well your best friend wouldn’t react kindly to what your ex had said. 

You were so determined to show Ransom what he’d done, you didn’t even consider the fact that you were also showing him the photo you’d sent. At least, not until his blue eyes went a little hazy and his smirk widened into a full-blown grin.

“The dare didn’t include you showing me the photo,” Ransom drawled, his gaze flicking to yours, the look in his eyes making something hot squirm deep in your core. “But I can’t say I mind—you’ve got a gorgeous ass.” 

Heat rose in your face, and your expression twisted into one of impatient annoyance. “Look at the response, Ran,” you gritted out, trying not to let his compliment get to you. He was your best friend—he was probably just messing with you. But you were soon distracted from what Ransom had said when he finally looked at what your ex had replied.

A storm cloud settled over Ransom’s handsome features, his eyes narrowing into two slits and his mouth twisting into a furious scowl. You even thought you heard a low rumble, like a growl, emanate from your best friend’s chest beneath the din of the party around you. 

“Who does this little shit think he is?” Ransom fumed, grabbing your phone and clicking on the contact info. “Does this motherfucker think he can talk to you like this?” Your best friend’s gaze flicked to yours and something inside you warmed when you saw the righteous anger simmering in his eyes. “And where the fuck does he get off calling you baby?” 

Your mouth opened to answer him, but Ransom just shook his head in a way that quelled you. Instead, he grabbed your hand with his free one and began leading you through the party toward the back of the house. Your feet moved quickly to keep up with his longer strides, and he slowed a little so he didn’t hurt your arm as he tugged you into the backyard. Ransom walked briskly through the gate in the fence that separated the lawn from the forest. 

You knew the forest around the Thrombey mansion just as well as the house itself, with its trees and the occasional statues representing Harlan’s various mystery novels. You and Ransom had played in the forest plenty when you were children, and partied amongst the statues when you were in your teens and early twenties. It was the only place the two of you could have any privacy, and you had to assume that Ransom wanted seclusion to discuss what your ex had said.

At your favorite of the statues in the forest, Ransom pulled to a stop and rounded on you, mischief gleaming in his blue eyes. You could tell he had a plan. 

“Do you wanna show your shithead ex what he’s missing?” 

Ransom’s smile was sharp as a knife and you couldn’t help but be distracted by your best friend’s handsomeness, just for a moment. His slicked-back brown hair gleamed in the spring sunshine that trickled down through the leafy trees above, and his broad shoulders filled out his henley so deliciously, you almost forgot the question he asked. 

But then his words broke through your distracted mind and the grin that spread across your face was practically devilish in your delight. “What do you have in mind?” you asked eagerly, bouncing on the balls of your feet as you stared up at your best friend with nothing but trust.

Ransom’s eyes darkened, his gaze dropping to your mouth for just a second before he met yours again. “Get on your knees,” he said, his voice low and gruff in a way you’d never heard before. It made heat pool deep in your core and you squirmed a little but didn’t hesitate to follow the order. 

The forest floor was blanketed in a soft carpet of dying leaves, even as new growth flourished around you, the sweet scent of spring filling your senses as you lowered yourself to your knees. Your eyes remained fixed on Ransom’s as your knees hit the soft ground, and though you knew the two of you were alone in the woods, it truly felt as though you were the only two people in the whole world.

You weren’t naive. You knew whatever your best friend had in mind to get back at your ex would be crossing one or two lines you’d never crossed with him before. But you trusted Ransom. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you. And, truthfully, a part of you that you kept hidden and locked away so much of the time wanted to cross a line or two with your best friend. 

So you sat on your knees on the ground at Ransom’s feet and stared up at him with all the trust you had in him no doubt written all over your face. You watched as his eyes softened and his mouth curved at the edges into a gentle smile, his expression filled with affection. It was so different to the hard or smarmy mask he wore in public—and even around his family—that you relaxed even further, knowing he’d take care of you even as you got revenge on your ex.

“Stick your tongue out,” Ransom murmured, his voice low and soft and nearly blending in with the breeze rustling the trees above you. His hand reached out and his fingers stroked your cheek, his smile deepening when you nuzzled into his palm before doing as he said. “Good girl, now look at me like you wanna suck my cock.”

A bolt of heat shot through you, nearly making you shiver as warmth bloomed, feral and unbidden, within your body. Ransom’s command was certainly crossing a line, but it felt like permission, too. For the first time in a very long time, you let the feelings you’d hidden away come rushing to the surface. The force of them surprised you, and you found yourself leaning into the arousal that swirled through your body.

With your tongue already sticking out, you let yourself sink into the desire you felt to suck Ransom’s cock and let it show in the way you were posed. You arched your back to stick out your ass and push up your chest, giving your best friend a good view of your tits in your dress. Letting your eyes go heavy-lidded with arousal, you stared eagerly up at your best friend.

You couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes darkened, his pupils blowing wide and his lips parting as he let out a heavy breath. He looked transfixed by you, and if you weren’t sticking your tongue out, you would’ve smirked at his reaction to you.

For a long moment, the two of you just stared at each other. Then, Ransom shook himself lightly and he held up your phone, swiping it open to the camera. You watched as he angled it the way he wanted, and waited patiently while he took a few pictures of you on your knees in front of him. 

When his eyes returned to your face, you relaxed your pose a little, expecting him to give you your phone so you could pick out a photo to send to your ex. Instead, Ransom gave you a considering look.

“Do you really wanna piss off your ex?” he asked, his voice a low, dangerous rumble that made butterflies stir in your belly even as more warmth trickled down between your thighs. A slow, evil grin spread across his handsome face that made your stomach flutter and your core clench. “Do you wanna show him what he’s missing?’

“Yes.” Your answer slipped from your lips before you really had a chance to think about it, but once it was out, you wouldn’t take it back. You trusted Ransom, you really wanted to get back at your ex, and, even more than that, you were desperately curious to see how far your best friend would take things. So you doubled down, giving him an evil smile of your own. “Yes, I do.”

Ransom’s grin turned a little smug as he looked at you with mischievous delight dancing in his eyes. The dappled light of the sunny spring day shifted across his face, and you sucked in a silent breath at just how handsome your best friend was. Your heart thumped in your chest, but you pushed the meaning behind that feeling aside and focused on the moment.

“Unzip my pants and pull my cock out,” Ransom murmured, his tone low and rough as gravel, sending a shiver down your spine.

Immediately, your eyes dropped to the front of your best friend’s slacks and you couldn’t help but notice the bulge there. A delighted smile curled the edges of your mouth. Ransom was just as turned on by you as you were by him. That knowledge gave you the courage you needed to do as he said. 

Your fingers fumbled excitedly with Ransom’s clothes as you pushed up his henley and undid the button and fly of his pants. You pushed them and his boxer briefs down over his hips, revealing the long length of his cock. It bounced free from his briefs and you sucked in a sharp gasp. He was so thick and long, your body clenched with the need to be filled just at the sight of your best friend’s cock.

Eagerly, you leaned forward, pressing your face to the underside of Ransom’s cock and inhaling the clean, musky scent of him. He smelled so good, you could feel your body react to your best friend’s cock, your pussy soaking your thong and making a mess of your thighs. Tilting your head back, you turned your heavy-lidded eyes up to Ransom, staring up at him while you nuzzled into his hard length.

“Yeah, just like that,” Ransom rasped, giving you an encouraging nod while his thumb tapped the screen of your phone, taking photos of you. “Look so pretty with my cock on your face, baby.”

A pleased smile curved your lips and your eyes closed as you savored the wonderful feeling of Ransom’s praise. It made your body warm even further, and you conveyed how happy it made you by pressing a soft kiss to the underside of Ransom’s cock. He rumbled an appreciative sound and when you looked up at him again, his eyes were the darkest you’d ever seen, his entire attention focused entirely on you.

You liked having Ransom’s attention and you didn’t wait for him to give you more instructions. Trailing your lips up the length of his cock, you pressed wet, suckling kisses to the velvety soft skin wrapped around the hardness beneath. You didn’t know which of you enjoyed it more—Ransom, with his face twisted into a look of pleasure and his chest heaving, or you, with your pussy dripping between your thighs. 

It seemed to take Ransom a moment to remember what he was supposed to be doing, that the point of you being on your knees was to record what you were doing to get back at your ex. He tapped the screen of your phone once, and when he spoke, there was something in his voice that made you think he was recording a video—a tenor of encouragement that made you want to perform.

“How d’you like my cock, baby?” he asked, a smirk clear on his face and in his tone. “Am I bigger than your ex?”

You wanted to grin and laugh—Ransom’s cock was much bigger than your ex’s. Instead, you curved your lips into your most vixenish smile and nuzzled into your best friend’s hardness like it was your most cherished stuffed animal. 

“I looove your cock, Ran,” you purred in a sultry voice, not having to try hard to show your appreciation for him. You pressed a kiss to his hard length and licked the underside of the head, wringing a grunt from your best friend. “You have such a big cock, daddy, way bigger than my ex—I don’t know how I’m gonna fit you in my tight little throat.” You batted your lashes up at the camera while you swirled your tongue around the tip, licking up your best friend’s precum. 

Ransom tapped your phone and moved it out of the way so he could look straight at you, raising one of his eyebrows in amusement. “‘Daddy’?” he asked, a delighted smirk curving his lips.

You stroked Ransom’s cock while you pulled back to answer. “My ex always wanted me to call him that, but it never felt right,” you said, making a face before you leaned forward again, wrapping your lips around the tip of your best friend’s cock and sucking on him lightly. Ransom grunted in pleasure.

“Keep going, baby, we’ll show that shithead what he’s never gonna have,” Ransom rasped, lifting your phone up again and tapping the screen while you took his cock deeper into your mouth. “Suck daddy’s cock, baby, be a good girl and show me how much you love my dick.”

You wanted to smile at Ransom’s filthy words, but instead you focused your attention entirely on his cock, bobbing your head on his hard length until the tip of him was pressing against the back of your throat. You’d never taken anyone as big as him, but you were determined to deep throat your best friend, so you relaxed your throat and pushed yourself. After a few tries, you took him all the way in, until his cock was bulging in your throat and your nose was pressed flat to his stomach.

“Oh fuck, jesus christ, baby,” Ransom shouted when you swallowed around him, your throat squeezing his hardness as you fought to keep him buried to the root in your mouth. Tears streamed down your face, and drool trickled down your chin, but you paid it no mind, focusing entirely on your best friend’s cock.

His big hand settled on the crown of your head, fingers flexing like he wanted to grab you and hold you down on his cock. Your pussy clenched at the thought, but Ransom seemed not to want to hurt you, so he simply bucked his hips a little, fucking your throat in short thrusts. 

“Shit, ‘m gonna come,” he rasped, his voice rough and strained in a way you’d never heard before. It made you squeeze your thighs together as more wetness flooded your already messy slit. “Baby, ‘m gonna come, holy fuck, your throat feels so fucking good, oh fuck.”

When his cock started to twitch, you pulled off and smiled sweetly up at your best friend. “Come on my face, Ran,” you panted, your voice breathy as you stared directly into Ransom’s darkened eyes. 

It took you a moment to realize Ransom’s hand holding your phone had dropped to his side, and the entirety of his focus was on you—just you. A pleased smile curled your lips while you pumped your best friend’s cock in your fist, squeezing the tip while he tossed his head back and let out a loud, pleasured groan.

Ransom came, muttering, “Baby, baby, baby,” under his breath, ropes of his come landing all over your face, joining the tears, spit and drool already coating your cheeks and chin. You opened your mouth, catching some of his spend on your tongue and humming happily at the musky taste of him. 

When Ransom tipped his head back up and opened his eyes to look at you, his mouth fell open in a helpless moan when he took in the state of you. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, his eyes roving over your face hungrily, like he couldn’t get enough of seeing you with his come on your cheeks. “You look so pretty covered in my come, baby,” he murmured, warmth and affection in his tone as he stroked your jaw, one of the few places on your face that wasn’t messy.

You grinned up at your best friend, pleased at his praise, though that didn’t stop you from teasing him. “Why don’t you take a picture, daddy, it’ll last longer,” you sassed. But once the words were out, you realized how serious you were about the suggestion. When Ransom raised his eyebrows in question, you whispered, “Use your phone—if you want.”

Ransom didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled his phone from the pocket of his pants and angled it above your face. “Smile for me, baby,” he murmured softly, and you couldn’t help but follow the gentle command. He took a few photos of you, sitting on your knees in the forest, covered in his come. 

Once he was done, he stowed both your phones in his pocket and pulled his henley off over his head, leaving him in a simple white t-shirt. You weren’t sure what he was doing until he started using the soft cotton garment to clean your face. He was gentle, wiping the come from your face and then clearing away your ruined makeup. 

Somehow, it felt so much more intimate than sucking your best friend’s cock and all you could do was sit there, your heart pounding in your chest while you let Ransom take care of you. His gaze caught yours, and you saw his crystal blue eyes were swirling with just as much emotion as was filling your heart, and something seemed to pass between the two of you—an understanding that something had changed between you.

When he’d cleaned your face to the best of his ability, Ransom tucked his cock away then helped you to stand, supporting your weight while he brushed the dirt and leaves off your knees. You leaned heavily against his chest when he stood up, his arms looping easily around you and you shared another silent moment, both of you smiling and staring into each other’s eyes.

It was you who ended up breaking the moment, asking the question that was making you burn with curiosity. “Are we really going to send those pictures and videos to my ex?” you asked, watching your best friend’s face for his reaction. Truth be told, you still wanted to get back at your ex for what he’d said, but since Ransom’s cock was in them, he had a right to a say in it.

He seemed to be watching you just as carefully as you were watching him. “Do you want to?” he asked, his voice toneless. He was leaving it up to you.

An evil smile spread across your face, Ransom’s lips curving into a smirk in response. “Yeah,” you said brashly. “Let him see what he could’ve had.”

“Just as long as you tell him who’s dick you’re sucking,” Ransom murmured, kissing your temple and pulling your phone from his pocket to hand to you. “I want him to know you’re my girl now.”

At those possessive words, you looked up at your best friend in surprise, but Ransom only gave you a look like you should know better.

Ducking your head, you hid an exceptionally pleased smile as you turned in Ransom’s arms and leaned back against his broad chest so he could watch over your shoulder. Together, you picked out the best photos and videos to send to your ex.

Sorry! Sent that to the wrong person. These are just for you. Oh and Ransom says hi. 

You couldn’t help but giggle when your ex immediately started blowing up your phone, taking great pleasure in blocking him. When you were done, you handed your phone back to Ransom to hold for you, since your dress didn’t have pockets, and you turned in his arms again. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you looked up at your best friend with a smile.

“So I’m your girl now, huh?” you asked, unable to let him get away with just a look for confirmation.

Ransom’s strong arms wound around your waist, holding you tight to his chest. “As if I’d be such a fool as to let anyone else have you,” he said, snorting to himself. “I’m not as stupid as your ex.”

“Clearly,” you said dryly, laughing at the unamused look he shot you. 

But then Ransom silenced your laughter with a kiss, his mouth slanting to yours perfectly. All at once, you let the emotions you’d bottled up for so long flow free, and you clung to Ransom as you both deepened the kiss. His tongue plunged into your mouth like he was staking a claim, and you answered him back with just as much fervor. 

It was less a first kiss and more a devouring of souls as the two of you made out in the woods of the Thrombey estate.

Finally, Ransom pulled away with a groan. “OK, here’s the plan,” he said with a huff, pressing his forehead to yours. His chest was heaving as he caught his breath, but he soldiered on. “We go back, tell everyone you have a headache and I’m gonna drive you home,” he said, pausing briefly to kiss you. “Then I take you back to my place and we don’t leave my bed for two days—maybe three.”

Laughing and nodding you pushed up on your tiptoes and kissed Ransom again. “Three, definitely three,” you agreed.

“Good girl,” he murmured, kissing you again.

 Before he pulled away entirely, though, Ransom caught your eye and you knew from the mischief sparkling in the depths of his gaze that he had another dare for you. You grinned eagerly. 

“I dare you to take off your thong and go back to the party with your needy little cunt dripping down your thighs for me,” Ransom rumbled, his voice deliciously low and deep and making you want to jump him right there in the woods.

When Ransom raised an eyebrow in a challenging look, your pussy clenched at the filthy dare, your whole body warming as arousal flooded through you again. You didn’t know what expression your face was making, but it made Ransom grin and press a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“If you’re a good girl, daddy will give you a reward when we get to my place,” he murmured. 

But Ransom hadn’t needed to offer you an incentive.

After all, you never could resist a dare from Ransom Drysdale.

[vxnuslogy]

— 1:43 coincidences.

pairing: kinich x gn!reader

premise: kinich wasn't one to indulge in the creative waters of writing or english. but for a chance to know you, he'd willing jump into the ocean.

— warnings: none

— author's note: this was supposed to be for his birthday but i got lazy half way through so yeah. this is also a part 2 of 11:11 wishes and i highly recommend you read this one first!! art credits to @.n249g on twt. | 2.3k words.

— tags: @ryescapades @mikashisus @https-sourlimes ; if you'd like to be tagged, please fill out the forms in my pinned!!

english—writing class to be specific—was one of kinich’s least favorite subjects in school. not to say that he didn’t appreciate books and stories, he just simply preferred the more straightforward subjects like p.e. and math. he never really could wrap his head around the ideas of using so many literary devices to make a statement sound flowery. why can’t author’s simply say that the sky was blue or that the sun has set? kinich, more often than not, found them all unnecessary.

until you, that is.

kinich met you by coincidence during one of his basketball practices. a loud shout of his name from the stands and an enthusiastic mualani made him cringe internally as his teammates wiggle their eyebrows. with a roll of his eyes, kinich drops his water bottle on the benches and readied himself for whatever mualani wanted to do. his head curiously tilted to the side when he caught sight of you. 

you and mualani were the same height, you held her bag in your arms as you scroll through your phone. kinich must have stared a bit too hard. you looked, meeting his eyes with a curious but embarrassed gaze. suddenly all the metaphorical pieces of literature he once found exasperating had an entirely new meaning as you flashed him an embarrassed smile. he found himself captivated–unable to look away even when mualani came to obscure his view of you. with a heavy breath, he tried his best to keep his attention on her words, but he ended up missing the way your lips turned upward and eyes turn into small crescents. 

it would’ve been cute, dare he say romantic, with the way you kept stealing glances at him. kinich felt a certain itch at the back of his mind to at least smile back, but he never got the chance to. not when a stray basketball flies past his head and nearly hit you all the way from the stands.

“hey! watch it!” mualani shouts. hands gripping the metal bars tightly, ready to jump down and pick a fight with the player who had nearly hit you. 

kinich stood there, baffled and perplexed about you. he found your way of tugging at mualani’s arm amusing as she yells and points an accusing finger at ororon. you shake your head with a sigh and offer him an apologetic smile when he should be the one doing that. with his own heavy sigh, kinich turned around and crossed his arms, a scolding look in his eyes as everyone avoided his gaze. 

“kinich you better put your team in place or i’ll do it myself!” the volleyball captain in the stands yelled with an angry huff. she copied kinich’s pose and narrowed down her eyes but she simply looked like an angry kitten.

kinich’s ears picked up on your airy giggle and felt the hairs on his arms rise. karma must be coming back to bite him in the ass because now, at this very moment, he wished he’d paid enough attention in english class to find a way to describe the way you captured him with just one glance.

much his teacher’s surprise, kinich finally began to participate in english class. he would raise his hands to answer questions and when called, he’d try to answer even if he struggled. all of his classmates concluded something must have happened—you can’t really blame them for being curious, after all, kinich only took interest in very few things. 

he began to frequent the local bookstore too. drifting from one aisle to another, eyes skimming over the spines of the books he once took for granted. ironically, he found himself indulging in a newfound fascination with how words worked. a certain wish deep in the columns of his chest to find a way to describe you in the same way. that’s when kinich ceased all his skimming. ever since that day, he’s been thinking about you, more often than he should.

he knew you and mualani were close—attached to the hip with the way you grew up together. the council president would often brag about your achievements as if they were her own during breaks from meetings. mualani always had something to say about you—all ranging from nice, embarrassing, and intriguing. you also ate lunch together. kinich would always notice how mualani packs extra lunch and when the bell rings, you’re always outside the classroom. bag slinged over your shoulder, a book under your arms as you entertained yourself with your phone. 

during all of these times, kinich’s eyes will always slide over to your figure. trying to capture your mystique on paper with his rookie capabilities in writing. and for the second time, he must have stared too much because you ended up catching his stare. your eyes glossed over the opened book on his desk, the many sticky notes with messy notes, pens and highlighters matching the book cover, and how he keeps tapping his pen on his notebook. his finger’s twitched, heart lurching forward into your arms when your eyes twinkled with familiarity of his actions.

he was doing an activity for english class. and that’s when it all clicked into place. 

you flash him a smile as mualani tangled your arms together and tugged you to the direction of the cafeteria. no wonder your laugh sounded so familiar, it was the same sound he heard during english when he paid attention to everything but the lesson. the book under your arms had the same colored annotations as his and even the blue bracelet on your wrist looked familiar. you were the student sitting a few seats back from him. 

“what a coincidence,” he murmurs, shifting his attention back to the activity due tomorrow. but his mind betrayed him for the second time because instead of writing down his interpretations in the notebook, the word “beautiful” was instead jotted down. and kinich isn’t talking about the book.

dismissal hours and kinich did not mix well. while others packed their things to go home, he stayed behind to work with the council on the bulletin board. with a thud, he dropped to the floors as the others laugh. mualani ruffled his hair and promised they’ll be quick today, which he highly doubts with the way there was paint on her face and poorly hidden paper planes made out of spare papers. he shook his head in amusement and started getting to work.

by the time the clock hit 5, everyone had bid their farewells and kinich was left alone boarding the last bus of the day. he mindlessly paid the bus fare and looked for any available seats. the grip on his school bag tightened ever so slightly when he caught sight of a familiar mop of hair and blue bracelet in one of the seats. like a sailor being captured with a siren’s song, kinich made his way to you and cleared his throat.

you look up at him with the sun in your eyes. and he wonders if you’re aware of them. “is this seat taken?” a beat of silence passed before he caught the way your eyes widened and shook your head no. kinich swore he could hear the drumming of his heart as the sun sets behind you, casting a golden glow that makes you even more captivating.

“oh no, no! not at all,” you stammer out with a crooked smile. kinich nods in thanks and sits down. this must be the awkward presence of a blooming crush the books he’s read were talking about. he wanted to bury his head in his hand in sheer embarrassment. of course he concludes he had a crush on you as you’re sitting next to him. of course he just had to be awkward as you steal glances at him every now and then, trying to think of a way to strike up a conversation.

“are you done?” you ask and kinich has never reacted to a sound so fast in his life. “with the book review i mean.” another smile, another reason for kinich’s heart to beat. he cleared his throat and looked away, muttering a soft yes under his breath. you don’t speak another word after that and kinich curses mualani for sleeping over at a friend’s house today. 

now, kinich wasn’t one to abuse his position as a council member nor did he ask teacher’s for favors–but there’s a first for everything. with a knowing mualani behind him, he takes a shaky breath in and knocks on the faculty door to excuse his english teacher to ask to be partnered with you.

it was such a bizarre and surreal feeling. kinich was simply about to go to bed after basketball practice when mualani had decided to blow up his phone with messages and screenshots. conversations with you filled with all capital messages, numerous exclamation marks, and sobbing emojis he began to associate with you began to fill his mind as his heart started to expand. 

“ I WISH HE’D BE MY PARTNER FOR THE BIOGRAPHY PROJECT 😭 😭”

kinich never paid any attention to the project despite having more interest in class—he didn’t have any particular interest in anyone, except you. so for you to wish to have him as the subject of your written creativity, how could kinich resist? and there wasn’t any difficulty in convincing your teacher too. a poorly executed excuse of maybe having your creativity rubbing off on him was all it took for the two of you to be paired up.

when he leaves the faculty, mualani greets him with a knowing smirk, her hands behind her back as the two quietly make their way back to the never ending task that is the bulletin board. the girl made sure not to point out the excited glint in his eyes and how a smile threatened to spill from his lips when you passed by and waved at her.

“you’re such a goner,” mualani teased with a shake of her head. she only stuck out her tongue at him when kinich tried to kick her shin. but he didn’t try to deny anything, all he could think about what kind of questions he’ll ask you in the span of a month.

“blue. you were wearing a blue bracelet when we first met and i really liked it.”

“and”

“it suits you”

“is that a weird thing to say?”

it was embarrassing how quickly kinich closed his phone and put it on silent mode. that was something so unlike him to say—even his punctuations and spacing of messages felt out of place. but could you blame him? that damn blue bracelet complimented the tone of your skin, how light seemed to bounce off it and become a magnet–begging for him to hold. 

and was it wrong of him to assume you liked green because of him? he noticed earlier this week that your gaze lingered longer whenever he wore his jersey jacket and this one hoodie xilonen gifted him. “the color reminded me of a calming walk in the forest,” you had said when he sat down in front of you as he asked why you were staring (leaving out the part of the giddy feeling he’s captured your undivided attention with just a piece of clothing. he then wonders what you’d look like if you were the one to wear it.)

could you give his poor heart a break? after all you nearly injuring yourself trying to make it to class wasn’t on his agenda for the day (but he’ll never admit how nice it felt for you to cling to him). he never meant for your fingers to brush as you picked up the papers on the floor, nor did he mean to look away so quickly—missing the way your cheeks turned pink.

kinich’s gaze flickered over to that blue bracelet again as you checked your appearance on your phone, then it moved to your bag, and like a sailor following the north star, he took it from your back and said, “let’s go to class.” his voice was quiet—dare he think shy—as he covered half of his face with a curled fist. 

you denied his offer to bail you out of a lecture from your teacher and he promptly agrees. but kinich knows, deep down in the ocean of his heart that you won’t get in trouble when he’s by your side. maybe it was the adrenaline–or maybe just you–he loved to chase. he took steps and steps in your direction to pluck a stray leaf stuck in your hair. he doesn’t miss the whiff of your perfume—woody with hints of citrus and some cinnamon in the mix.

you smell like sunshine and the partner he wants for the rest of his life.

after the biography project, kinich finds himself sitting with you in a park after classes got canceled. you asked him to push you on the swing set and he complied without much of a fight. 

“i wish you’d be my partner for this project, and wouldn’t you know, it actually happened.”

“oh, i know.”

kinich laughs, something he does more with you, at your dumbfounded expression. the realization that mualani had snitched on you and that he went out of his way to make sure it happened like you wished for sent your cheeks ablaze. kinich loved the sight of you under the afternoon sun as he goes in front of you, on one knee like those cheesy prince charmings in stories you always gushed about.

“be my partner for life, that was my 11:11 wish today.”

if you were to ask kinich what his favorite season was, he would answer summer within a heartbeat. summer was the season when you met, the colors of the sun bathing you in all his favorite colors as you cheered him on from the stands during basketball matches with his name on your back. the many ice cream runs where you both complain about the heat, or when you drop by the council room to try and cool off because the ac is stronger. summer had you in it, but kinich wouldn’t mind experiencing the other seasons with you too.

© vxnuslogy 2024. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works without my knowledge or consent in other platforms or websites.

[lucimaaie]

stay safe ✧.* spiderwoman au

pairings - ellie williams x fem!reader

summary - ellie’s had a crush on you for a while, but her busy life as spiderwoman stopped her from talking to you. that is until fate forces her hand.

warning - I finally proofread something yayy

playlist | spidey masterlist

The classroom had the capacity to drive Ellie mad. Scratching of pencils against papers, monotonous talk from the professor she really should be listening to, side conversations, all of it. Even the chill of the air could give her a panic attack, amongst all the others things on her mind.   

That was all nothing with you around. She barely knew you beyond the fact that you always sat in the front row, more attentive than her. She could see the highlighted, detailed notes even from the back row. The coordinated outfits even when you’d tried to be lazy that day. Something about you was comforting and she had no idea why. Maybe she just being a creep.  

“Drawing her again?” Ellie’s head snapped up toward Jesse. She shut her notebook quickly and glared at him.  

“It’s not her.” She ran her fingers through her hair as she sat back in her chair. She glanced as you oblivious to their conversation. That was you, focused to a fault. Too determined to be at a place where half the student body just wanted the credit. She admired that.  

“Oh, so you like to draw more than one girl?” Jesse tried to slickly pull the journal over to him but Ellie's hand shot out to stop him. “Damn,” He smirked as he pulled his hands back. 

“Shut up.” 

“I'm just saying, you should talk to her one day.” 

“I’m not doing that.” She opened her notebook and scribbled something word adjacent to get the professor to stop glaring at her and Jesse. Another glance your way and there you were hand moving faster than hers to catch every word.  

“And why not?” 

“I-I.” Ellie paused, trying to come up with a valid excuse. She had many of them. She was a vigilante that ran around in spider-themed blue and red spandex and she had no life at all besides that. Oh, also school and work so that she wouldn’t drown in debt and end up homeless, many really. “I wouldn’t know what to say.” That was also true.  “And I don’t know anything about her.” She glanced at the drawings she’d put detail to in the margins. 

 It was creepy when she thought about it. The number of drawings she had of you in her notebook this semester alone. She was ashamed there were other notebooks from other classes you’d coincidentally taken together. 

“That’s why you should talk to her.” 

“Just..focus, you big doof.” Ellie gently, or what she thought was gently, punched Jesse arm. Forgot her own strength, oops. She snorted when he still groaned, earning them both another look from the professor.  

Ellie swung her legs back and forth as she tried to whistle. She’d almost got it down. The night air was freezing and the thin layer of spandex she wore didn’t help. She leaned back on her hands as she waited for something to do.  

The moment she started to accept that she was bored, sirens went off below her. “Shit—“ She said, pulling her mask over her head and shooting a web on the building across her, using it to swing her body into the air after them.  

“What’s going on?” She said as she landed, walking towards the police captain. She wasn’t aware he was your dad when she first met him. It was only when she saw him pick you up and that she put the pieces together and fixed her short-lived rivalry with him. Totally not because he was your dad. That was like 40% of the reason. 

She frowned as your dad looked up at the tall building above you with a face opposite of his usually composed nature. Ellie followed his line of sight. Her heart almost dropped to her stomach. She saw you dangling from the hands of a big familiar lizard, screaming for your life. They were other people, scientists all in white coats, who were far from the edge but their screams could be heard overlapping yours. “I just a little talk with Spiderwoman. Any cops and I drop the girl,”  He dangled you further into the air, causing the crowd below to gasp.  

“You have to go up there—“ 

“Already on it.” 

Ellie could feel her hands shake as she climbed up the building. Between the people watching and you looking down at her helplessly, the pressure weighed down every inch of her skin. This not how she wanted to talk to you for the first time.  

“Alright, I'm here.” she walked slowly towards the Lizard..or Dr Connors..or whatever he wanted to go by now. It didn’t matter at the moment. “You let the people go and we’ll talk, fight, whatever you want, big guy. Just let the people and-” She stopped her from saying your name. “and the girl go.” 

“Big guy? surely, you haven't forgotten my name." 

"Dr. Connors, is that it? That's what you wanna be called, right? Dr. Connors, put the girl down and let the people go. We'll talk after- NO!" Ellie almost launched her body forward after you slipped an inch from his grip. She huffed as he began to laugh at her panic. 

"You think this is funny?"  

"Yes, yes, putting her down now." Ellie watched as you fell onto the ground and scrambled to run towards the door. Her eyes lingered as she watched you disappear into the building with the others. You were safe.  

She was fuming when she turned back to Dr. Connors. How the hell did he get out? She didn't have time to question it as she pushed into the wall and forced into a fight. She'd tried her hardest to capture him using her webs but he was stronger, using her as a glorified crash dummy. She gasped for air as she was pushed into the ground. her eyes darted around, looking for a solution when the sound of a thunk caught her attention. 

Ellie frowned as she saw you drop the microscope and step back from the angered lizard. You weren’t supposed to come back. She groaned as she lifted herself up. "No, no, no-" She shot webs all over its (his?) back like as a sort of straightjacket. She kept going until he couldn't move against the material and was stuck to the wall. She caught her breath briefly before holding out her hand. She swallowed as you took it with no hesitation. She tried not to freak out as she wrapped her arms around your waist firmly enough to be able to carry you. "I'm gonna get you down to your dad, okay?" She said softly. 

"Okay." You nodded, panic in your voice as you shut your eyes. She was careful to land gently onto the police car. Her eyes never left you as she watched your dad help you down and take you into his arms. 

She shook her head at the claps as she hopped down on the floor, holding her side. "Please, get your guys up there before he breaks free." She said to your father, who still held you close to him. She had a feeling that would last. He gave a appreciate nod and muttering something to another cop.  

She was getting ready to leave when she heard you running up behind her. "Spiderwoman!" You yelled after her, voice still shaky with nerves. She turned around to face you. "Hey-" Ellie cleared throat. "Hey," She said deeper this time, hoping you wouldn't recognize her voice. "Are you okay? Did he hit you?" She took a step closer, hands hovering over you before she let them fall to her side. 

You nodded. "I-I'm fine now, thanks to you. Are..are you? You took a lot of hits-" 

"Oh yeah, I'm fine. You see the other guy?" She quipped, shifting on her feet. Please laugh. 

"Thank you for that. I know hear that a lot, but thank you.” Ellie could've melted at your words paired with your breathless laugh. She heard it quite a few times a day and it was nice to hear, but it wasn't why she did it. Still, hearing it from you..did something to her.  

"I.." She trailed off.  

You stepped closer, tentatively wrapping your arms around her. She accepted almost immediately, breathing deeply into the hug. She couldn't remember the last time she'd gotten one. She cleared her throat again as you pulled back a few seconds later with another thank you. "Stay safe!" Ellie yelled after you. She groaned as she watched you walk away. "Goddamn it," This crush wasn't going anyway any time soon. At least she'd finally talked to you, just not as her. 

thank you for reading!