#i was intending for it to look messier but oh well

[roturo]

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ OH! SO YOU'RE INTO OLDER MEN?

˚₊·➳❥ JJK MEN SHOWING YOU HOW A REAL MEN FUCKS! satoru gojo, suguru geto, kento nanami, toji fushiguro ✧˚ · .

tags: afab!reader, reader is mentioned as a female, use of nicknames (baby, princess, doll, slut, whore), cheating, degradation, caught cheating, getting caught, unprotected sex, blowjob, pussy slapping, mating press, breeding, age-gaps, virginity loss [...] rbs are appreciated!

satoru gojo (Daddy’s girl)

well, that’s the word he used for the little girl you're babysitting right now. he’s a great dad and husband. there’s just this tiny whiny little thing he couldn’t do right– and that’s loving his wife as he should.

like– it’s not that he doesn’t feel guilty, it’s just… well, you looked really cute in that mini dress, he and his wife have been fighting lately anddd– he could tell his daughter liked you more than her fatality of mother she has these days. she even called you mommy by accident once! and that was the last water drop gojo needed for the glass to break.

“Oh- I bet you’d love to be full of me right now.” His thrusts became messier each time he pounded on you, “Mhh, fill you up ‘n make me a daddy again– you’d like that princess?” you couldn’t even talk anymore with how good he’s making you feel– he had your legs pressed on the bed thanks to his arms, almost bending you in half, he was making sure that mating press works.

“Ffffuckk- You feel s’good baby” He felt your walls clenching again, no matter how many times he made you come, he’s making sure you’re coming again after he does. A not ending cycle for him. “Such a slut for me hm? Coming all nice and pretty to this house just to be ruined at night–” his words made you feel dirty, but the euphoria of it was stronger, “such” slap, “a nasty” slap, “slut” slap– “and all f’me” with those last thrusts your body couldn’t take it anymore, spasming and trembling while your poor hole was filled up again. gojo’s wife didn’t even bothered to break your little encounter, she suspected it long time ago.

all that was left was a wide grinning gojo satoru and some divorce papers.

suguru geto (Daddy’s best-friend)

you didn’t intend this to happen… you always knew your dad’s best-friend was hot. he’s geto, ‘cmon. he brings a new girl every weekend whispering in your dad’s ear swearing she’s the one this time.

he saw you grow up, turn into this beautiful and strong woman. so how he couldn’t love you? you were like a doll for him, so beautiful and radiant in every way. a porcelain doll he needed to protect, he couldn’t lose you to any dangerous or stupid man, he swears he would beat the shit out of the guy who breaks your heart first.

“Shhiiiitt– Heh– I can tell how tight your pussy is princess–” His cock was stretching the living shit out of you, touching places never in a thousand years you could imagine you would feel. “what d’ya think daddy would say if he saw his little girl being fucked by his best-friend huh?” your brain was a fuzzy mess, you couldn’t make coherent words to say, and just feel how good geto is making you feel. you couldn’t remember how many times he had made you cum with his toungue and he’s just starting to fuck your pussy.

“ ‘m such a lucky guy if i'm the first you’re giving this pussy to, don’t ya think so doll? marking it as mine, baby I swear you’ll need no man to ever fuck this pussy of yours again– shit I won’t need another woman for myself, you’re the one baby” those words filled your heart of a tingly feeling, making more butterflies roam around your tummy, touching yourself you could sense geto’s cock coming and leaving with every thrust, your brain full of air and in need of more of his cock.

he couldn’t resist himself anymore when he was next to you, his cock would get hard the minute he enters your house, and thankfully he has a pretty doll to release himself with.

kento nanami (Big Boss)

Nanami thinks he’s a good and mature guy– At least for his wife and kids… He has this aura of a serious and mature guy but inside every time he’s just this close to breaking it, just to say what he really thinks or feels.

the first time he saw you at work with your tiny skirts and tight blouses he didn’t mind any type of attention to it, you were another cute worker, that’s all. One of another– he can think other women are pretty too right? maybe even prettier than his wife… and nicer, and cuter, and more homely feeling to be a mom. but he wouldn't do anything he would later regret right?...

“You’re s’pretty baby, such a dirty whore for my cock mhm?” he had you pounding from behind, his desk becoming even messier than it was before, one of his hands keeping you laid down on the desk arching your back like if he’s trying to break it– a sudden ringing brought you back from your unconsciousness of nanami’s cock– he answered the call, not a single sing of him trying to stop thrusting into you.

“Yeah?” his voice was out of breath, almost sounding like a sigh when he answered the call, “Where am I? Huh– I’m at the office r-right now…?” he wasn’t even sure if he could keep this act, losing himself more in the feeling of your pussy clenching on his cock– “Oh yeah- I’m okay, uhh- the kids? yyeah, yeah, they’re with my mom right now–” the feeling of keeping up a call with his wife while fucking you made his cock twitch inside of you, feeling like a teenager kissing their crush for the first time. it was no surprise for him that his wife was cheating, but he wanted to keep it like that for the sanity of his kids. 

“Quit the act Kento– I know you’re fucking somebody else right now. See ya at home.”

toji fushiguro (Step-Daddy)

you hated when your mother started dating new guys. they just kept breaking her heart– but you just stopped telling her that it's okay to live without a partner, that she had you by her side, but well… this new man was something else i guess and you didn’t say anything for the sake of your own good mother.

you didn’t like him, but for the sake of your mother you pretended like you do– and let’s be honest, toji doesn’t like children, so when he first met you he wasn’t as social as others… your mom was just too good to simply let go– but the way you moved, talked, dressed caught his attention, and as time passes and he spends more time with your mom– he's no longer drawn to your house just to see your mother, but to see you. 

“Sshhiit- You’re making me feel s’good baby” the lack of air was making you feel giddy, but the way his cock twitched inside your mouth made your core get even wetter. “C’mon baby, ride my shoe,” you wasted no time before your hips started moving, trying to gain some friction and release that tingly feeling coming from your core. 

“D’ya think your mother would like to see her daughter being full of his step-daddy’s cum?” he gets one of his arms behind himself trying to gain some support while his other free hand caresses your cheeks while you continue sucking– this same hand moves out your head and frees his cock out of your mouth, a small strand of saliva connecting your mouth with it–

“Fuck– guess i choose the wrong out of you two”

#gojo satoru smut #geto suguru smut #nanami kento smut #toji fushiguro smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo smut #geto smut #nanami smut #toji smut #toji fushiguro x reader #gojo satoru #geto suguru #nanami kento #toji fushiguro #gojo satoru x reader #geto suguru x reader #nanami kento x reader #fushiguro smut

[mahvaladara]

Almost on queue they heard the singing of the hens as Syra rushed back up the path throwing corn with a whole bunch of chicks chasing her. She smiled at them and made a surprised sound when she saw the fixed coop.

Syra: You fixed it!

They smiled looking at the coop as it now looked better than it had ever done. As Syra came running with the chickens, they turned to Mal.

Fannar: And I am as prepared as I can be, and I intend to stick by him to the end, whenever that might happen.  -they nodded, then looked at Syra. - Impressive, they seem to know resistance is futile. - they chuckled and picked up one of the chickens. - See new house and all.

Syra: These aren’t the original chickens -she confessed sheepishly- But we didn’t want Arlo to get upset.

Fannar: Oh.

Syra: Sorry. Brightside though! Disposable Rooster #2 -and she pointed to the rooster- Will live a long happy life and not become chicken soup!

Mal: Waste of perfectly good meat. With his size and age, his liver is huge, tasty and healthy, his heart rubbery and tasty, and if I pull and snap his neck and hold him upside down long enough all the blood's going to accumulate on the neck and head and then I can boil him, clean him up and cook that neck with coagulated blood to make the most marvelous chicken soup.

Vy and Fannar stared Mal horrorfied.

Mal: What? You guys never had chicken?

Syra: No dad. I think they did. I just think you horrified them with the graphic description of how you prepare them.

Mal: Or, you're one of those "only eat chicken from the supermarket, injected with growth hormones, held up in tiny pens and fed the remains of their crushed siblings and rejected eggs, and killed by electrocution" kind of guys.

Vy: Well... but you actually snap their necks? With your bare hands?

Mal: With what else would I kill the chickens? You expected me to go ax murderer on the chicken? This isn't The Shinning. Wastes effort, time, it's messier, more painful for the chicken, can actually take longer to kill it, especially with a rooster that size that requires at least two good hits to chop off his head, and shooting a chicken would just be overkill. Besides, it would waste all the blood I'd want around the neck to cook.

Vy: Why do you want to eat the chicken's cooked coagulated blood?

Mal: Because it's a delicacy where I come from! Don't you people have cultural gastronomy? Where I come from we eat everything from the chicken! Everything from the pork too! And almost everything from the cow. Except the kidneys, the kidneys just taste bad.

Vy: No wonder you don't eat dragons. You eat everything else, devourer.

Mal: I don't eat cockroaches, and have only eaten bugs out of desperation. I am actually repulsed by them. If you want to incapacitate me in a battle, just throw a flying roach at me and I'll jump out a window to escape it! Or set the building on fire. I have done both in the past.

#mal revealing a bit of his cultural gastronomy XD #and yes #that description is how i watched my mother and grandmother kill grass fed chickens for eating #and yes where i live there's this gastronomy practice where we eat everything from the chicken #tw description of animal slaughter #mal #vy #fannar #syra #ts4 story #the sims 4 story #the imortal #gen 1

[fluff-shot-central]

Treat Me Mean ‘n Cruel

This one’s for @she-is-juniper​, because you got me thinkin’ about frat boy Elvis. I also may have been the anon to send you that Thot. (Feel like that tips readers off, but that means this is a college AU) Hooooooo boy, buckle up folks! Was not beta-read bc it took me three days and I’m burnt out from work lmao

WARNINGS: smut, teasing, riding, teensy bit of degradation, frat boy Elvis (that’s gotta be a warning, c’mon now)

“Now, what’s a pretty girl like you doing all alone in here?”

You jump, spinning from your spot against the counter to watch the stranger enter the kitchen, drink in hand. You eye him over your own drink - he’s attractive, there’s no denying that. With piercing ice-blue eyes, messy jet-black hair, and pink kissable lips, he has to be -

“Elvis Presley,” he continues, raising his cup in a mock toast. “If you like what you see, could I get your name?” He winks. “Of course, if you prefer, I could just keep calling you pretty girl.”

You chuckle. “Well, since you’re so persistent...it’s Y/N.”

He gives a low hoot of appreciation. “Now, that’s a mighty nice name you got there. And what’re you doin’ at my party, Miss Y/N?”

“I came with a few friends - they’ve been begging me to tag along at least once, and I figured if I came this time, they’d leave me alone afterwards.”

“Parties ain’t your scene?” he asks, coming over to lean on the countertop beside you.

“Oh, some parties are fine...it’s the company I take issue with,” you say, raking your eyes along his frame again.

Elvis feigns an affronted gasp. “Ma’am, if you think I’m any less than an upstanding Southern gentleman, I’m afraid all you’ve heard are nasty rumours. I promise I can be good.”

“Oh, I never said you couldn’t, Mr Presley,” you reply, maybe slightly more suggestively than you’d intended. You watch, a little entertained, as he chokes on his drink.

With red cheeks and pink ears, he stammers, “I-I’m sorry, ma’am, you just caught me off-guard a bit, is all. You, ah...”

“What did I say?” you ask, feigning innocence. It’s fun to watch him get all hot and bothered, and it doesn’t hurt that he looks even cuter when he’s flustered.

“You just - it was - ah, never mind.” He runs a hand through his hair, making it even messier that it was before.

You laugh, deciding to let him off the hook. “I’m sorry Mr Presley, but you’re just so easy to rile up. I couldn’t resist.”

Something flashes in his eyes, but it’s gone before you get a chance to properly register what it could be.

“Forgive me if I sound a bit forward, miss, but I’d like to take this conversation to the bedroom.” Elvis keeps his stare laser-focused on you, and you feel a shiver travel up your spine.

“Well, I don’t let just any boy get me alone...are you gonna be good, Mr Presley?” you murmur, leaning forward just a bit to trace a finger along the column of his throat.

He slams his cup on the counter and grabs you by the thighs, hoisting you up around his waist so that you have to look down to meet his gaze. “Oh, I think you and I could have a pretty good time, mama,” he says, taking the opportunity to steal your cup and set it to the side as well.

“Well then, what are you waiting for?” you ask, sliding down his body until your feet hit the ground. “Show me just how good you can be.”

🎶🔥🎶

Elvis only just manages to close the door behind you before you’re falling onto the bed. You can barely think straight - your mind is full of his taste, his smell, the feel of his hands on every part of you. You let out a moan as his tongue teases its way into your mouth, and your nails rake along Elvis’ back, making creases in his perfectly-ironed shirt. He moans in response, hips dipping just a little bit lower in search of some sort of friction. He likes that, you notice, filing it away for later use. His reaction gives you an idea.

You break the kiss and he lets out a noise of protest, chasing your lips, but you put a finger against his to stop him. “Easy now, Mr Presley...you wouldn’t want to seem too desperate, would you? I thought you were supposed to be a playboy.” You smirk as his breaths quicken, placing a palm on his chest to flip him over so you can crawl on top. His pupils are blown wide and he’s practically panting at this point, swollen lips and messy hair simply adding to his appeal. Your hands dance along the buttons of his half-open shirt, allowing the rest of the fabric to fall away so his chest is completely exposed. You shift up his body, resting your thighs on either side of his abdomen so you can lean over and press your lips to the column of his throat. You scrape your teeth just slightly over the soft skin, and the keen Elvis lets out is something you’ll never forget.

“Shh, you don’t want your friends hearing you, do you?” you murmur, grinning wide against his neck. “What would they think if they saw the Elvis Presley so whipped for a girl?”

“I...I don’t really care what they’d think, mama, just do that again, please,” he begs, and you can feel his chest rising and falling under your own...not to mention the prominent bulge starting to grow against your core.

“Mm...” you hum, pretending to think about it. “Strip for me, Elvis.”

He scrambles out from under you and practically rips his clothes off - his shirt is on the floor in seconds, but he’s so flustered he struggles with his jeans. He lets out a groan of frustration, but still can’t get his fingers to work the zipper quick enough. You laugh, taking pity on him when he looks up at you desperately. “Come here, baby. Let me take care of that.” You deftly undo the button, sliding the zipper down so he can step out, leaving him in just his boxers.

“You’ve still...got an awful...lot of clothes on, darlin’,” he pants, looking like he’s trying to regain some of his bravado...and failing miserably. You laugh again in response. “I suppose I do...but only good boys get to take them off. Are you gonna be a good boy, Elvis?”

“I will, I promise I will, mama, just let me have another taste,” he pleads, eyes wide and shining.

You pretend to consider before getting back on top of him, pressing a trail of kisses from his throat to the line of his boxers. Good god...you’d heard he could sing, but the music he was making right now was downright sinful.

“Alright, Elvis, now be a good boy and help me out of these clothes,” you instruct, and he wastes no time. You don’t particularly like this dress, so it doesn’t really matter when he tears the seams trying to get it off. It’ll be a problem later, but you can always borrow some of his clothes...

He unclasps your bra with a snap, leaving you both in just your underwear. “Okay, now sit down for me,” you say, gently pushing him so he sits against the headboard. “No touching until I say.”

He whines, hands twitching at his sides. “Not even a little?” he pleads, and his eyes are so big and blue that you almost give in.

“Not even a little,” you reply, and take his belt from the floor for good measure. He watches as you tie his hands to the headboard, then sit back between his thighs to admire your handiwork. “That should do,” you say, and slide back down the bed until you’re in a comfortable enough position to slip your hand beneath the waistband of his boxers. He lets out another breathy moan as you wrap your hand around him, pumping gently. “Does that feel good, baby?” you ask, though you already know the answer by his flushed face and heaving chest.

He nods frantically, and you tsk. “Use your words, Elvis. I know you can.”

“Feels so good mama, feels so good,” he slurs as you slide his boxers all the way off with your other hand.

After a few more pumps, he’s ready, and you take a breath, readying yourself for the stretch. “Alright, pretty boy.” He flushes even redder as you flip his nickname for you back on him, and the gleam in his eyes tells you he likes it when you’re nice to him just as much as when you’re mean. I’ll have to try that next time, you think - because there will definitely be a next time, if he’s up for it. He may have the bad boy reputation, but you may just be able to make him yours.

You position yourself above him and hold yourself there a moment, relishing the view - Elvis Presley, lip between his teeth, chest heaving, practically begging with his eyes for you to do something, anything to him - before sinking down onto him. You can’t help yourself - you cry out at the same time he does, feeling him fill you to the brim. You take a second to steady yourself and get adjusted, and just to tease him a bit longer. He makes such pretty noises when he begs.

“P-please...” he pleads. “Please move...”

You grin, turned on even more by his desperation. “I wonder what kind of music you can make for me...” you muse, and he moans at your words. “You like that? You like the idea that any of your brothers could hear what a filthy little whore you are for me?” He ruts his hips against you involuntarily at the thought, and your grin turns predatory. “Well, I don’t want to humiliate you yet, so you’d better keep quiet, baby. Can you do that for me, Elvis?”

He nods, lip pink and plump from how much he’s digging his teeth into the soft skin.

You shift just a bit, and he immediately lets out a keen. You still, and he whines. “What did I just say?”

“’m sorry, mama. ‘m so sorry, please don’t stop,” he cries.

You relent, but only because you’re starting to get desperate yourself. You ride him until the coil in your stomach starts to tighten, and you move faster, desperate for your own release. You spare a few glances at Elvis to make sure he’s alright, and he looks so thoroughly fucked out you almost cum right there.

“Can you cum for me, baby?” you ask breathlessly. “Be a good boy and cum with me.”

You only have to roll your hips a few more times before you feel him stutter inside you, painting your insides with warmth just seconds before your own release washes over you in a sea of stars.

🎶🔥🎶

You gently lift yourself off him, rolling over to lay beside him as you both pant, thoroughly spent. “Okay, I’ll say it - this party was a lot more fun than I thought it’d be,” you gasp, and you hear Elvis chuckle.

“Glad to help, mama,” he says, winding an arm around your torso. “You can be a bit meaner next time, though...I don’t mind.”

You smile and turn to face him, tapping his nose teasingly with a finger. “I don’t believe you ‘don’t mind’, Mr Presley...I think you like it,” you accuse, and his bashful smile is all the confirmation you need.

“Well,” you say, pretending to think on the idea, “I’d be more than happy to oblige on another night. Just tell me when.” You reach over him to his phone on the stand, typing your contact information in for later use. “Text me anytime, pretty boy.”

“Oh, I will, pretty girl.” His arm tightens around you, the other winding under your legs to hoist you up as he stands. “For now, though...what would you say to a shower?”

#elvis 2022 #elvis #elvis presley #elvis presley x reader #austin butler elvis #frat!elvis #elvis smut #elvis presley smut

[syrianna-blackstone]

Zanvis head cannon #1

I like to think that these two had the weirdest start to their friendship.

It started when Zane had to get something from Garroth and Travis was having a bad day. He was pissed since everyone kept being loud, where bugging him, and were questioning his clothing choice too much. He was wearing a oversized fuzzy hoodie and sweatpants that had the white stripes down the side. His hair was messier than usual, and he had eye bags. When Travis opens the door he expected Zane to question him but Zane didn’t bat an eye and just asked if Garroth was home before he came inside. Travis was confused. Zane just went straight to Garroths room, grabbed something while Garroth protested, then went and stood right in front of Travis, who still hasn’t moved from the door. The two just kind of stared at each other, Zane slightly taller than Travis. Garroth, Dante, and Laurence where looking at the two in confusion now. Finally Travis spoke up.

“ Um...Do you need something or...?”

“ Put your shoes on. Your going to the cafe with me.” The other three watched yelled out in shock as Zane left the house, Travis standing there with his mouth open before leaving the house with him as well. The two walked in silence before Zane started speaking again.

“ So what happened to you? You look dead?”

“ What? Oh I um...I didn’t get much sleep.” The two where silent again before Zane answered Travis’s unanswered question.

“ Aphmau wanted me to bring you to the cafe since I was already going to your house. I don’t know why she wanted me to though.” Travis nodded in understanding and the two entered the cafe, only to be pulled into a hug my Aphmau. To Zane’s surprise, Travis quickly and gently pushed her off with a sorry look, but Aphmau just smiled and squeezed Zane for a second before letting go. Zane looked at him in confusion and Travis let out a nervous laugh.

“ I’m not THAT big of a fan of hugs...” That shocked Zane. He didn’t expect that. He had always seemed like a touchy person. Then again, he could agree that hugs where very annoying. Travis and Aphmau went to grab a seat and Zane started leaving. He did not want to be in on whatever those two where talking about. If it was anything like high school, it was going to be weird and make absolutely no sense.

To his surprise, and Travis’s, Aphmau dragged them both to a table and sat them down before dismissing herself to go get their orders. The two just stared at each other awkwardly for a bit before Travis spoke up.

“ You know I would just go on my phone but I sort of left it at home... so...this is really awkward.” Zane rolled his eyes and gave him a ‘no duh’ look. The two really didn’t have anything to talk about. They where barley even friends. Although, Travis was still a bit confused on what was going on.

“So...what’d you get from Garroth?”

“ None of your business.”

“...Do you know why Aphmau-”

“ No.” It was silent again before Zane spoke up, quietly, as he intended for Travis not to hear. Travis, being born with practically supernatural hearing, heard him anyway.

“ I still can’t believe how clean his room was...”

“ Oh that’s before I made him clean it. Honestly, I don’t know how someone keeps it that messy.” Zane raised an eyebrow.

“ YOU got Garroth to clean him room?”

“ And Laurence. And Dante. And for them to clean after themselves. I swear they are so messy. I also banned them from making food. The only time they’ve cooked for me is when I first got here. It tasted like burnt coal, and the kitten smelled smoky. I now make the food. They really need to learn how to take care of themselves.”

“ You do, all of that? How?”

“ I dunno. I just glare and they listen. Add a bit of magic for intimidation and boom.”

“Smart.”

Just then Aphmau decided to come back with their orders. She placed a Expresso infront of Zane and a Mocha in front of Travis. Travis looked at her weird.

“ I thought it was pretty clear that I don’t like coffee?”

“ I know, it’s just you look like you haven’t slept in years. I got like the sweetest thing and asked for extra sugar so you won’t taste the bitterness, trust me.” Travis just sighed and slowly took a sip. It wasn’t bad, a bit too sweet, but he was fine with it.

“ Well anyway, you know how Vlyad’s birthday is coming up?” The two nodded.

“ Well I need your help planning and setting up a surprise party.” Travis got confused.

“Wait why am I here then?”

“ Uh, cause we all three where not alone buddy’s? Plus, you are really good at keeping secrets. Both of you are!”

“ And i’m here instead of Garroth because? Other than the secret part. We all know that idiot can’t keep his mouth shut even if his life depended on it.”

“Cause, don’t tell Garroth I said this, but you kind of know him better. And your a better planner.” The two just looked at each other and then Aphmau again, having a silent agreement to not question anything, just to make life easier.

They ended up planning for three hours before calling it a day. The sun was already going down and they needed to get home. Aphmau had already made Travis and Zane exchange numbers so they could talk and created a group chat so all three of them could chat before leaving with a smile on her face. The two went their separate ways, having mixed feelings on what had just happened. Zane didn’t think it was too bad. Not that big of a deal anyway.

He didn’t expect them to start texting everyday because Travis couldn’t stop sending him memes at 3 in the morning due to his, probably self induced, Insomnia.

#mystreet #aphmau #travis #travis valkrum #headcannon #dante #garroth #vylad ro'meave #laurence #zanvis #zane ro'meave #not alone buddies #ship but make it more realistic and holy cause i swear-

[drippingopossum]

Ok but imagine. A friend tells me they're planning a party. It's gonna be a little adult and everyone will be showing up in little to nothing. They reassure me it will be super chill. I arrive at their house and they order me to strip before coming inside. I pause- you mean right here, outside?? They say yes, right here. Don't worry nobody comes down this road at night. I try to be quick but I swear I heard someone giggling.

They have me come in and help them set up. Meanwhile encouraging me to smoke more and more, once I'm high enough I won't notice they've hid my clothes. The music goes on right around the time the first few people show up. As they start to file in I briefly notice they're all fully clothed, but the thought fades as I'm offered more bud. Suddenly the house feels full. At this point my friend decides to open a window, and the breeze reminds me of my nakedness. And that I'm the only one.

I start to feel a bit warm as the reality of the situation sets in. I can feel my nipples get hard and my face flush. I'm not sure how many of these people on their phones have taken snaps to show their friends, but the thought turns me on even more. I'm lost in thought when I feel the first hand grab my ass, slow at first but coming back for a rough squeeze. Against my will I lean into it and try to stifle a moan. Did I hear laughing?

My friend comes by and says hey, isn't this great? Look at all the people! Before I can mention that I wasn't supposed to be the only one unclothed, they're taking me by the hand into the main room. The music is loud but they managed to yell over it - alright, time for the main attraction! They hold my hands behind my back and continue - this is the party slut! Do whatever you like to him!

Before I can say anything people are on me, groping and pinching and god I'm so horny, they can see it too can't they.. I put up no fight when they set me up on my arms and knees on a low table. Perfect fucking height. I'm so wet that the first person to fuck me laughs, damn you really wanted this, huh slut? I moan and he tells his friend to start recording. Oh, fuck. They made sure to get a nice video of the first creampie. The next few get messier and messier, and I become tasked with cleaning up the messes. I suck every cock dry, sometimes earning a facial as a reward. I'm so focused on my cunt being filled over and over again that I stop noticing the number of people around me, how many of them are taking photos to spread, how many tally marks are written on my thighs. All I know is that I'm a toy being used as nature intended.

The party winds down after a few hours, with some electing to go home and others taking more time to humiliate me, now bound and unable to touch myself to cum. When all is said and done I'm dripping in cum and hopelessly horny. My friend unbinds me once the last person leaves. Alright, they say, let's get you home. I'm put back in handcuffs and they open the door for me. Wait, I can't walk home like this! On top of everything, I've finally started to sober up, so I have enough sense to get embarrassed again. They laugh and say, oh don't worry about it, they all know what your body looks like now and how big of a slut you really are. And if they haven't seen yet, well, now they will! They close the door in my face and I'm once again naked on the street, this time covered in cum and tally marks. I'm not sure what time it is but I better hurry before people start leaving their houses to go to work...

#This ended up being way longer than I thought. Oops lol #Anyway! Idk what tags get used so I'm just gonna use the one I've seen #Trans nsft #Idk I wanna be passed around #Something about it just GETS to me yk???

[pxperplxnets]

code red

promt credit to @liablueheart on wattpad!!!

summary: kimis friends developed a system to give him time to tell amelie about his feelings.

pairing: kimi antonelli x amelie leclerc.

kimi and amelie character descriptions

word count: 897

warnings: none

lowercase intended!

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

amelie was calmly walking through the surroundings of the monza track after a very good qualifying session for kimi when she felt someone grab her arm lightly. it was one of the drivers, though she couldn't quite place who.

 “hello?” she asked, frowning as to why he felt he had the right to grab her “hi, my name is arias” he smiled, letting go of her arm “amelie” she gave a small smile back out of politeness “you're very pretty, amelie” arias said in a flirtatious tone “thanks, that's very nice” he nodded before talking again “uhm, i was wondering if you'd like to go out with me later, hopefully cheer for me when i win tomorrow” just as she was about to answer him with an obvious no, she heard a familiar voice scream.

“code red! code red! everyone, code red!” kirill’s words made her forrow her eyebrows and made arias look back with confusion. 

just as the russian stopped screaming and arias turned back to face amelie, she felt a pair of armas grab her before throwing her over their shoulder and start running towards the opposite direction.

what?

she was not scared, as she could see the race suit and knew it was one of the prema guys, but she was very very confused. 

“where is he?” she recognized that voice, it was conrad who had thrown her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “where is who? hello?” her questions were ignored, as conrad just kept running, looking for someone.

after what felt like years of being on conrads shoulder, he finally stopped, walking slower towards something or someone she could not see “conrad? what are you- is that amelie?” kimi’s voice filled her ears. it sounded almost as music, like always.

 “yes, code red” conrad was so out of breath he could barely speak “phew! that was a close one, man” amelie was still extremely confused “connie? can you put me down or are you going to run some more? your shoulder is weirdly pointy” her ribs had started hurting from the position “oh yeah, sorry. okay, i'll be going now” he put her down, and just as fast as he came, he walked away.

“what just happened?” she asked kimi, who weaved a hand through his hair, looking stressed.

 if amelie wasn't so confused about what had just happened, she could have stopped and stared at how handsome the boy looked after the race. his hair was messier than normal and his face was slightly flushed. and of course, the unzipped race suit hanging low from his waist that normally made amelie die.

“the guys are stupid” he shighed “what’s code red? and why was i carried to you?” she didn't sound mad, which made kimi feel a little bit better. “umh, the guys invented code red as a way to give me time” he wasn't looking at her as he explained “time for what?” she was even more confused now “to tell you that i like you, that's why they dragged you away. i suppose someone was flirting with you or something, sorry” 

amelie had no words except “you like me?” it was mostly a whisper, but it was there “yeah, enough for my friends to literally drag you away from other guys, at least” he looked embarrassed, almost sad.

 “i was about to tell him i was only here for you.” that made him look at her almost instantly “really?” amelie almost died of a cuteness overload at his face “really.” the girl assured “oh” he looked perplexed, which made her giggle slightly. 

she took his head in her hands, carressing his cheeks softly. 

“i'll be there tomorrow, cheering for you when you win” she smiled “you don't know if i’ll win” a smile made its way onto his lips “well, if you don't, i'm going to have to cheer for arias instead” she pouted, trying not to laugh at his horrfied face.

 they were both aware that she was joking, every time he didn't win, she was right by his side to reassure him. “im winning.” 

kimi was proven to be a man of his word as he won p1 on the race.

amelie was the first person he went to after hopping off of his car, hugging her tightly. she separated from the hug, surprising everyone around them when she left a kiss on his helmet, where his mouth should be.

after the podium ceremony, both teenagers walked side by side, laughing and celebrating together.

well, that until arias aproached them once again. he congratulated kimi before directing his attention towards amelie.

“so, i didnt get an answer about the date?” he looked hopeful at the girl, and it made kimi incredibly uncomfortable and a tiny bit jealous. 

kimi’s eyes widened as she interlaced her fingers with his, bringing their joint hands in front of arias’ face.

 “i came here with kimi, im sorry, but not really” she rejected him, mumbling her last words. “that’s okay, congrats again mate... for everything” the kiwi said, signing at the trophy in kimi’s hand and at the girl at the same time before smiling at them and walking off.

“he took it quite well” the girl said “as he should” he answered before resuming their walk, leaving a small kiss on her hand and not letting go of it.

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

author’s note:

we love a guy that knows how to handle rejection like arias. also idk how to feel about this.

#kimi antonelli #kimiantonellioneshot #f4 #f4oneshot #prema racing #prema #premaoneshot #kimiantonellixoc #amelie leclerc #amelie marie elizabeth leclerc #premaracingoneshots #pxperplxnets

[scenefox2003]

Matchmaker

Aka I needed to write something happy after. That.

Olivia smiled to herself as the breeze blew gently through her hair, and and ruffled the edge of the cape she was mending. Marcy, the owner of said cape, sat on the edge of the koi pond next to her, blissfully kicking her legs back and forth while she watched the fish and sucked on a popsicle. It truly was a beautiful summer day. It was warm but not too hot, the clouds in the sky were almost cartoonishly puffy, and she was drinking her favorite juice. Everything was perfect. Nothing could possibly interrupt this moment-

“Lady Olivia, do you have a crush on General Yunan?”

Olivia spat out her juice, getting it all over the cape and probably in the koi pond (was that bad for them?)

“What.”

“Do you like General Yunan?” She asked again, innocently tilting her head.

“Do I- do I like General Yunan?”

Marcy smiled around her popsicle.

“Mhm!”

Lady Olivia tried her best to keep a straight face (pun intended) but couldn’t restrain from cringing.

“Well, of course I like her, she’s a competent warrior and a trusted colleague-“

“No, I mean like, do you like like her, like how Alphys likes Undyne,” Marcy said, as if that made any more sense. But Olivia knew what Marcy was asking, she just didn’t want to answer it. She all the sudden focused really hard on her sewing, and Marcy leaned forward to try and see what was so interesting. Seeing nothing, she continued. “Like do you think she’s pretty? And do you wanna hold her hand and marry her?”

Olivia wanted to laugh at how childish that sounded, she wanted to do a lot more than just hold her hand. But she kept up her aloof attitude.

“Why are you asking me this?” She asked rather curtly.

“Because I see you looking at her a lot. And you make a point that your tails always brush each other in the hallway, and you blush ever so slightly whenever she calls you milady, and you call everybody else by their full titles but you always call her just Yunan or General, and whenever you say General it has a certain tone to it that implies that something about it makes you-

“Okay, fine, that’s enough,” Olivia interrupted, her face tinged red. “How do you always notice these things?” She asked, a bit of annoyance leaking into her voice.

Marcy shrugged.

“I dunno.”

Her popsicle was starting to melt all over her hands, and she went to lick it. Olivia scoffed at her lack of manners.

“Don’t do that.”

“But it’s sticky!”

She sighed and gently grabbed Marcy’s wrists, then pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket and started wiping her hands off for her.

“Okay, fine. Maybe I do… admire the General, just a little bit.” She didn’t meet Marcy’s gaze, once again pretending to be very invested in what she was doing.

“Only a little bit?”

“Yes Marcy, only a little bit.”

The large glass sliding door opened, and Olivia and Marcy both turned to see who it was. Standing in the doorway was Yunan herself, dressed in a Hawaiian shirt, wraparound sunglasses, and swim trunks. She had a popsicle between her teeth, and she was carrying one of those massive rolling coolers under her arm like it was a football or something.

At the sight of the two, Yunan lifted her sunglasses onto her forehead.

“Greetings Milady, Master Marcy. Enjoying the nice weather?”

Olivia felt her face flush, and it wasn’t because of the heat. Marcy noticed, but became more fixated on the cooler.

“Can I have a popsicle?”

“Please don’t give her another one,” Olivia sighed.

“How about an ice cream sandwich?”

“That’s even messier!”

“Sorry Liv, but I take orders from the king, not you. And he said to give Master Marcy whatever she wants.”

Marcy smirked at the use of the nickname Liv, but Olivia acted like she was annoyed about the popsicle thing instead.

“He spoils her.”

“Says the one lovingly sewing up her cape like a doting mother.”

“Shut up.”

“Oh don’t get like that, it’s cute.”

Yunan started digging around in the cooler, and Olivia looked away and down at the pond in a sad attempt to hide her blushing. Still, she couldn’t help but notice Yunan gave Marcy the popsicle, which she had stated was the less messy option. Her face got even redder.

Yunan was about to sit down by the pond herself, until a voice called for her from inside the castle.

“General Yunan! The bugball game has ended in yet another massive fan brawl! Come break it up!”

Yunan let out an obnoxious, fifteen second long groan.

“God damn it, I can’t get ONE single day off! Looks like you’ll have to enjoy the sun without my glorious presence. Catch ya later, nerds.”

Yunan bit into the wooden popsicle stick as hard as she could, chewed, swallowed, tilted her redneck dad sunglasses back down, then made her leave.

“She’s so dreamy,” Olivia whispered to herself, and Marcy grinned and started flapping her hands.

“You DO like her!” She shouted.

“Oh hush, she’ll hear you!” Olivia scolded, then sighed. “But yes. You’re right. I like her.”

“Aaaaawwwwww!” Marcy cooed. “That’s so sweet! I totally ship it!”

“Ship?” Olivia asked, scrunching up her nose in confusion. Marcy didn’t bother to explain, just continued gushing.

“You two would make SUCH a cute couple! You’re so perfect for each other! The strong general and the elegant noblewoman falling in love… it’s just like a fairy tale! Or a video game! Or a FANFICTION! You HAVE to tell her how you feel!”

Olivia sighed for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

“Oh heavens no. I could never.”

“WHAT?! Why not?!” Marcy bit into her popsicle just like she’d seen Yunan do, but her face quickly contorted in pain and she went back to sucking instead.

“Oh there’s a plethora of reasons. First of all, it’s unprofessional.”

“Aw, King Andrias wouldn’t care!”

“He should,” Olivia muttered to herself, digging a beer out of the cooler. “And even if that wasn’t an issue, I don’t even know if she likes me that way.”

“Aww, she totally does!”

“You’re just saying that because you want us to get together,” Olivia smiled.

“No! I’m saying it because it’s true! She calls you LIV!”

“That- that doesn’t mean anything! It’s just a nickname!”

“Does she have a nickname for anyone else?”

“Well… hmmm… she calls you kiddo sometimes.”

“I don’t count!

“Well, then I guess she doesn’t.”

“See?! She likes you!”

“Even still, it might not mean anything.”

“But it COULD! Newtopia is a place where dreams come true! It’s like Italy! Or Comic Con!”

Olivia laughed, patting Marcy’s head fondly.

“I guess it could.”

“Yeah!”

Marcy dug her journal out of her bag and started sketching, chewing her popsicle stick in concentration.

“What’re you drawing?” Olivia asked.

“Fanart of you and General Yunan!”

“You are ONE cutesy quip away from being pushed into this pond.”

Ten years later, when Olivia and Yunan got their first house together, a drawing of two anime lizards holding hands with a popsicle stain in the corner was displayed proudly in a golden frame on their living room wall.

#amphibia #marcy amphibia #general yunan #lady olivia #yulivia #newt moms #there’s so much of them we didn’t see in season 1 I will keep the content coming I have more #amphibia cannot legally end without your consent #marcy wu

[selfdiagnosedeyemotif]

Hiii :3

About this!! Ochette's character isn't racist for the reason you gave. It's racist cause based on the name Toto'Haha you think it's gonna be inspired by Hawaii then you look at the island and it's a hot mess. The one poc majority country has poc that cannot speak properly and who are half monster. And they are half monster as divine punishment, that sounds like mormonism!!! That's bad!!

Also it's bad to give poc characters light colored or white hair cause it reinforces the idea that poc are only attractive or pretty if they look like or can pass as white.

Ochette is also loli bait or whatever the word was. She's 20 and looks like she's 10 and acts like she's 10. And not to mention that they didn't even commit on the "beastlings can't speak human language" thing. They made Ochette speak "properly" because she's an Mc and they couldn't possibly have a main character speak like an idiot.

And whenever there's a nature themed character or a character that can talk to animals, they're always a poc which reinforces the idea that poc are uncivilized.

Also just making the non humans poc was so so horrible. Most of irl racial genocide relies on dehumanizing poc and trying to justify the murder by saying "oh well, they're not human anyway".

And for Kaldena, it's not as bad as Ochette. Mostly it's just cause she's one of the only woc in the entire game and she's a victim of abuse, manipulation and as a result, she becomes evil and, again, gets turned into a non human monster because of course poc aren't human! /s

White hair thing again as well.

Ok proof read before sending and I remembered two things.

Ochette being pedo bait also contributes to the infantalization of racial minorities and the idea that poc are inherently stupid.

The beastlings are depicted as being selfish and mean because they do not want to share their land with the humans. Oh goody, the poc don't want to give up the land they've been living on for ages to colonizers. And the natives are the evil ones. Lovely. /s

Also not angry or upset at you, you just got something wrong and you said in your post you're open to what other people have to say. You're awesome for trying at all and I think that should be acknowledged :)

oh i agree 100% with all of this (didn't actually know about the white hair thing until now tho. very glad i heard that one cuz i did have a poc character with white/grey hair in the OCtopath cast and that is gonna get changed now), but that's not quite what i meant.

what i was trying to say was that the racism in ochette and kaldena's stories, while unjustified, were not central to their stories. ochette's story is about what a force of good interacting with a deeply flawed world would look like (and quite frankly, i dont think her race is super vital to it), and kaldena's is about her inability to process her grief (honestly, i'd be the same) after HER ENTIRE PEOPLE WERE KILLED IN FRONT OF HER.

the loli-baiting and animalization of poc and all that slop could quite frankly be removed from ochette's story SPECIFICALLY and it would be largely unchanged. removing that all from the world of solistia in general would be far messier, but i was referring specifically to ochette in the post i made.

in summary, i did not intend to make statements as to WHY ochette and kaldena's stories were racist, and instead was attempting to make a statement as to why that racism could to a certain extent be removed without much detriment to their stories.

please note, with retrospect (and the information you've provided), i've changed my stance on kaldena, where the racism could not simply be removed from her story. it's kinda stuck there.

#i still like kaldena's story because i am madly in love with the trope of all-consuming grief #however i do see the problems with it with a little more clarity #also i fear that i may not have put my thoughts to word in the best way so i suspect there may be some misunderstanding nigh #so if anything sounds weird to you just let me know and i'll see if i can clarify #and the void screameth back #not-pie

[voidstilesplease]

Patrivan Drives Me Nuts, And Here's Why: Part 5

S5E4: The Body [1,2,3,4]

->Because Ivan Is Really Pissing Me Off (but not as much as Ari)

Hm, how to even begin?

Look, this episode was as bad as episode 3 as far as patrivan is concerned, but I didn't hate it as much... I would say. And that's only because I think Cruz evened out this whole emotional mess, and Patrick isn't as inferior to Ivan anymore. Like, he's finally got a bullet to fire back at the idiot. Yeah, yeah. I'm toxic like that. But what I'm saying is, right when I saw that, I knew Patrick's trauma after seeing the boy he likes and his sister having sex in broad daylight will soon be returned. By, like, two-folds.

BUT. That doesn't make it any less fucked up. I know. Because, seriously? Ivan's dad? It couldn't be, idk, an older brother or something? Granted, his dad acts like a man-child than an actual father, but still. Cruz is a very questionable third party to involve.

But again, enough to satisfy my thirst for revenge. Lol.

Anyway. Let's break this post into 3 parts based on the sequence of events in the episode concerning our lovely (and suffering) otp. First would be Ari and Ivan's boat scenes 😒 (I'm still fuming), next is Patrick's whole emotional train wreck 🥺, and lastly, the aftermath of that wreck. Which, for Patrick, typically translates to 'another bad decision', a.k.a. Cruz. 🤷‍♀️

1. Ari and Ivan.

(yeah, I'm not... I'm not gonna add gifs of them. Lol)

So, Ari and Ivan's boat ride and eventual boat sex.... *sighs* I really don't want to talk about it because it just makes me angry, so I'll get to the point.

Wtf was that? Ari can't get her boyfriend to spend time with her, because he's working to have money, so she drinks, summons "Ira" as Patrick calls her evil alter ego, and cheats on her boyfriend with the guy she knows her brother likes? And Ivan lets it happen, but I don't expect much from him, so I'm not even disappointed (but I am, truly, lol).

That's all I have for them. *leaves*

2. Patrick.

Now, this episode wasn't very kind to him, was it? Poor baby.

He doesn't appear until around minute 19 and already you can tell that he's not doing great. First of all, he's late. He's supposed to be around during his dad's welcome speech, but even Ari has no idea where he could be. And when he does arrive, he's clearly on something. He's interrupting his dad, being rude to people, and breaking expensive sculptures - just being a total menace. And to make sense of it, remember that we're picking up from episode 3's rejection from Ivan.

Obviously, he got very upset about it that he went out and drank, got high, and probably fooled around with strangers if the huge-ass hickey on his neck is anything to go by. And sometimes it annoys me how he could be so fixated on one person, you know? Because he could get anyone, but he spends most of his time and invests his emotions choosing people who wouldn't choose him back. That's just really... ANYWAY-

So he gets into a verbal fight with his dad that ends up with him getting slapped (and oh my... that confrontation reveals a lot about his insecurities, doesn't it?). Then he walks out, throws a tantrum outside (which, Patrick, baby, seriously? 😒), and as if he hasn't had enough stabs into his chest, he gets stabbed in the back, too. He catches his sister Ari and Ivan having sex - out in the open jfc - and, ooooooof, the look in his eyes 🥺🥺🥺. Just- *gestures*

This is the exact look that makes Cruz's entrance in the picture satisfying to me (despite the, well, obvious age issues). Because trust Patrick to make things messier for everyone. He can't be the only one that suffers lol. Though, tbf, I don't think he intends to hurt Ivan. Ivan doesn't like him like that, as Ivan keeps on insisting, right?

3. Cruz.

But Patrick can't even take all the credit for this chaos, can he? Because to begin, it's not Patrick who showed intent first. Patrick's out there pouring his heart out to Ivan's dad because he just really needs someone to talk to, and Cruz flirts with him. Unintentionally, maybe, at first, but flirts with him nonetheless. So, what's Patrick supposed to do, really?

He just got bitch-slapped by his dad, saw his sister getting it on with the boy who spacezoned him, then there's Cruz who comforts him, tells him that it's impossible that no one notices and wants Patrick for who he is (because he clearly does), and Patrick's supposed to - what? Walk away? From the one person who seems to appreciate him at his very fragile moment? Who's showing interest in him when the persons he wants it from can't give it to him?

So, he goes for it. And, no, it's not a smart decision, but it's the decision that gave him peace temporarily - took his mind off things for a short while. And he really needs to chill after all that, tbh. And Cruz is neither in a committed relationship, nor too afraid to kiss him. So? Cruz just so happens to be Ivan's dad, just like Ari just so happens to be Patrick's sister. It's really.... not that crazy. (*snorts* Lmfao XD)

---

Anyway, that's all for episode 4. And, y'aaaaall. I can't wait to discuss episodes 5 and 6 because they're, by far, my favorite patrivan episodes this season. Like *screams incoherently*

Like, how my thoughts about Ivan gets proven in episode 5, and how Cruz is such a little shit dad, and how I think Patrick is too villainized for going through with *it* (ya know, the pool scene), or accused of self-destruction when he literally just accepted someone's attention to soothe his broken heart. You know, it's for him. It's not about someone else.

Don't get me wrong, Patrick has self-destructive tendencies (exhibit A: the entirety of season 4), but I don't believe that particular scene is one of those instances. The latter one, maybe, yes. (Okay, to be clear, I mean when Patrick runs away from home after that video of Ivan in Ibiza and seeks out Cruz for comfort? I think that's in episode 7... Yeah, that's the one. That's self-destruction right there.) But this one (as in: episode 6, the pool scene)? No, that's just what would have happened in episode 5 had Ivan been too chicken-shit to finally make a move.

Anyway, I'm gonna talk more about that in the next ones. Ciao!

#elite #elite s5 #patrick blanco #ivan carvalho #patrivan #ivantrick #manuriousmademedoit

[candlewaxandp0lar0ids]

Hey there! I just wanted to tell you how much i enjoy the jealous series. I like how you explore the characters‘ emotions, it feels realistic and somewhat comforting to me 🤍 i can‘t even pick a favourite rn, i found them all great. If you ever decided to write some more about those characters or lore, i would love to read it! Thank you for sharing your work 🫶

Oh thank you so much for saying that!! I love exploring emotions, especially messy ones like jealousy, you know, the ones that are natural but that you don't really know what to do with and might even be ashamed of — they're the ones that I find the most fun to dive in. I'm definitely considering writing more for some of these couples it's an issue actually, I have so much that I want to write ;-; and I can tag you in it if you'd like to as well!

Also I wanted to tell you how much your comments on the parts of the series have meant, I've been meaning to shoot you a message to reply to them because I find the "comment" function on Tumblr not very practical to reply to people. So since you're in my inbox, I hope it's okay with you if I reply to them here! This series has gotten a fair number of notes but not that many actual interactions (I mean like, people telling me what they think about stuff), and it means so much to me that you took the time to leave in depth comments ❤️

so yeah I hope that it's okay with you that I'm replying to them here under the cut

So I do not have a degree in psychology, but writing complex characters is definitely my favorite thing to do and probably what I'd consider to be my strength, quite flattered that you thought that though 😁 I did really enjoy writing their communication in this and I'm definitely considering writing more for these two!

Okay, so, here there is something that's an issue because I'm not always sure how to tag it lol. Basically, I often hesitate to use the tag "unreliable narrator" because people associate it with a certain type of narrators (often liars/narrators who hallucinate or stuff like that). All it would mean here is that this is written from the OC's point of view and she... doesn't always realize what's going on.

So, here, Jisung's aware of the fact that there are issues with the ex, but both OC and the ex have been very careful not to talk to him about it/to hide it in front of him so he doesn't know exactly what's going on. When there's the scene with his ex, his closeness with the OC is intended to provide comfort to her but also to himself (the break-up was messier than OC knows), so he's not trying to make the ex jealous! And actually, the reason why he takes the bottle is because he doesn't want OC to kiss someone else lol.

As for why it looks like he can't get his shit together, the issue is that, well, OC mentions that she's trying hard not to look desperate/too into him and she's not taking into account the fact that she's doing a little too good of a job. So Jisung's just not sure of whether or not she has feelings for him (it's clear that she's attracted to him but anything else? yeah that's anyone's guess, literally bc some of Jisung's friends think he's heading towards heartbreak with her at this point)

And yes, they would start dating not too long after this scene! That's actually what I'd written at first but it didn't have enough of a "jealousy" feel and had to be mostly rewritten ;-;

Yeahhh, things are messy in that one, but I can say that Felix has his reasons, or at least his justifications. And yes, they've kissed before, which was when the OC basically said that she couldn't do more because she knew it would end up in heartbreak for her. I can't get into the past too much in case I end up writing it, but I can say that if I wrote it, this would probably be either the summary or the intro:

"The first time you see Lee Felix, he's sitting next to Bang Chan — yes, the Bang Chan, captain of the swimming team who's taken the school to the nationals twice now —, dyed blonde hair looking like a halo, nose scrunched up as he laughs with that surprisingly deep laugh of his. You don't think he even registers your existence then; you're just dropping by to say hi to Jisung anyway, you're not taking it personally.

The last time you see Lee Felix, two people are having to physically drag him from Bang Chan, who's sitting on the floor, nose bleeding, and there are tears of angers in his eyes. He's expelled a few days later, drops off the face of the Earth, and everyone carefully avoids the subject, especially around Chan.

And then, well, you see him again, but years have passed, and he's not really the Felix you used to know anymore.”

The Han and Seungmin roommate thing was 100% an intentional reference to that lol, I was hoping people would clock it 😁 Yeah this was very sweet to write, the MC is different from other ones I write usually so it was a fun exercice too!

Thank you so much for all your comments, I genuinely cannot express how much they made my day every time I got them, and I hope you'll enjoy what's left of the series 💕

#asks #theangelsangmetosleep #jealousy jealousy

[sylvanfreckles]

The Way You Shake and Shiver

Fandom: Fire Emblem: Three Hopes Rating: G Warnings: implied/referenced canonical child abuse

Summary: All Felix wanted was to have some time alone to think about his brother. Instead he finds himself sharing the burden of grief with Sylvain, as they've both faced loss of family in one way or another. (Read on AO3)

...

"Oh Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console" --Francis of Assisi

...

“Felix, wait up,” Sylvain Jose Gautier panted after his friend, leaning on a tree for support. “How are you so much faster than me when your legs are so short?”

Felix Hugo Fraldarius—who would argue that he wasn’t that short, it was that just certain red-headed morons were far too tall—shot a contemptuous look over his shoulder. “I train.”

“I train, too!” Sylvain had finally caught up to him, though he stumbled a little through the shin-deep snow. “I train some,” he amended at the look on Felix’s face. “Okay, I don’t train as much as you. Nobody does. Not even His Highness.”

With a snort, Felix turned away. “Don’t compare me to the boar,” he snarled as he pushed through the snow.

He had been intending to go on this scouting mission alone. There was no real danger; he was only looking for some likely terrain for training recruits that might not be accustomed to the northern climate. And yet, Sylvain had tagged alone anyway, saying someone needed to watch Felix’s back.

“Felix?”

“Go back to camp if you can’t keep up.”

“Don’t be like that.” Sylvain lunged through the snow and managed to catch Felix’s arm. “Come on, slow down a little. You’re gonna get lost taking off through the woods like this.”

Felix spun around to face his friend, shrugging off his hand. “I don’t get lost,” he snapped. He didn’t need this. Not today. “You see that? See our footprints?” he pointed behind Sylvain, where his own neat prints were overtaken by Sylvain’s messier trail.

Sylvain had the decency to look abashed, rubbing the back of his head with one hand. “What if the snow fills them in?”

Rolling his eyes, Felix turned away again. “Just go back to camp, Sylvain.”

“C’mon, Felix!” Sylvain floundered after him, despite his words. “What would your father say if I let you wander off and freeze to death out here?”

“Probably that I died in glorious service of the Holy Kingdom of Faergus!”

Damn it. He hadn’t meant to say that. Even without looking he knew what the expression on Sylvain’s face would be, that mixture of pity and reproach so common on his own father’s face. “Go back to camp. I’ll be back later.”

“Don’t, Fe. Please. I’m sorry.”

The apology caught him off-guard, and he turned back to face Sylvain. He had his arms wrapped around himself, eyes downcast, face a picture of misery and sorrow. “I forgot it was…it’s his birthday, isn’t it?”

Felix let out a sigh and leaned back on one leg, hand resting on his hip. “Why would you even remember?”

“I miss him, too!” Sylvain met his gaze, eyes brimming with emotion. “Glenn was…he meant a lot to me, too. Especially after…well, anyway. I’m sorry. I should have remembered.”

He looked away at the mention of his brother’s name. Thinking about Glenn on the best of days was difficult, to say the least. He’d just wanted to be alone today, away from the bustle of camp and the constant reminders of what his brother had died to save.

But Glenn had cared about Sylvain. Felix could remember cold nights spent snuggled up at Sylvain’s side while Glenn fussed over bruises on the redhead’s arms. Teaching him how to play chess or taking them both for long horseback rides. Whenever Sylvain came to visit, pale and thin and shaken after another ‘accident’ under Milkan’s watch, Felix had always been happy to share Glenn, to show Sylvain what a real big brother was supposed to do.

Felix shifted his weight, then gestured to the path he’d been following. “Come on. There’s supposed to be a clearing up ahead. We just need to confirm if it’s big enough for training.”

Sylvain didn’t exactly brighten, but he did quicken his steps enough to walk beside Felix. “Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

“Right…sorry.” Sylvain’s head was still lowered, but there was a hint of a smile peeking out under his bangs now.

“I changed my mind. Go back to camp.”

Sylvain threw his head back and laughed, and Felix rolled his eyes with an exaggerated grimace. They were silent for the rest of the walk, but it was a comfortable, friendly silence. Snow crunched under their feet as the wind rustled the bare branches overhead. They’d have more snow before nightfall.

“This must be it,” Felix said as they reached a clearing. It was exactly like the previous scouts had described—roughly circular with a small formation of stones in the center. He eyed the area critically, calculating the number of soldiers they could train in such an area.

“Land slopes upward on the eastern side,” Sylvain commented, pointing. “Might be good practice for charging maneuvers.”

Felix nodded in agreement. He studied the clearing for a few moments more before folding his arms across his chest. He hesitated…emotions weren’t always his strong suit, but he had been a little harsh with Sylvain before. His friend had been acting out of concern, and he had overreacted.

“Thanks. For following me out here.”

Sylvain didn’t answer, and Felix shot him a concerned look. He was staring at the clearing but didn’t seem to be seeing it, arms wrapped around his chest so tight Felix could hear his armor creak. Felix waited, knowing it was always better to let Sylvain find his own way out of his memories than to try to pull him out. Finally, the redhead seemed to realize that Felix was watching him and gave him a shaky smile before staring back out at the clearing.

“I guess…I just didn’t want you to be alone out here,” Sylvain finally said, his voice little more than a murmur.

Felix rolled his eyes. “Not like I could get lost this close to camp.”

It was barely there, but he caught it. Sylvain flinched, his fingers tightening around his arms. “Yeah…you don’t get lost.” Sylvain’s voice was suddenly rough. He wouldn’t meet Felix’s eyes as he stared out at the empty clearing in front of them, his gaze distant.

“Hey,” Felix nudged him with an elbow, “you’re shaking.”

Sylvain seemed to rouse himself and shot him a brief, unconvincing grin. “It’s cold.”

“Right.” Concern was leeching into Felix’s voice now as he leaned in closer, resting his arm against Sylvain’s. “I won’t let you get lost either.”

Sylvain managed another smile, but it was even less sincere than the last. He just stared out into the snow, eyes darting back and forth as though searching for dangers. Past or present, Felix couldn’t say. He tucked his hands under his arms but couldn’t quite hide their tremor.

“Well, I’m done here,” Felix drawled, pretending not to see the way Sylvain jumped at the sound of his voice. Still stuck in his personal hell. “Ready to head back?”

He nodded, though his eyes never quite met Felix’s. “Our footprints…”

“What about them?”

“They’ll be covered.”

Felix rolled his eyes and shoved at Sylvain’s shoulder to turn him around. “It hasn’t been snowing enough for that. Besides, you can see the smoke from the campfires from here, see?” he pointed above the canopy, where a thin spiral of smoke rose into the air. Sylvain relaxed a little at that, but still seemed anxious.

Sylvain still didn’t move, and Felix rolled his eyes. “Here.”

Sylvain blinked owlishly at Felix’s outstretched hand. “What?”

Felix heaved out a sigh. “Idiot. Take my hand.”

He hesitated another long moment, but Sylvain finally slid his shaking hand into Felix’s. Felix led the way back through the woods, reminded a little of the time he’d found Sylvain with a bloody knee and had to coax him back to the house with promises that Glenn wouldn’t be mad.

They’d barely even been out of sight of camp, but Felix didn’t drop Sylvain’s hand until Sylvain loosened his grip. They were less than a stone’s throw from the perimeter, close enough to hear the murmur of voices and bustle of activity.

“Hey, Felix?”

He paused for a moment and, as he turned back to face Sylvain, he felt arms wrap around his shoulders and tug him against his friend’s chest.

“Thank you,” Sylvain whispered. Felix nearly pushed him away, but Sylvain was still shaking. Just a little, but enough to catch at that place of blended anger and sorrow deep in his chest. The part of him that wanted nothing more than to make Miklan pay for every moment of suffering he’d inflicted on his brother.

“Idiot,” Felix murmured, wrapping his own arms around Sylvain’s waist. “Like I’d ever let anything happen to you.”

The arms around him tightened, and Sylvain leaned down just enough to rest his forehead on Felix’s shoulder. “I know. Thank you.”

#Whumptober2022 #no.7 #the way you shake and shiver #fire emblem: three hopes #fic #child abuse #implied abuse #ptsd #sylvain gautier #felix fraldarius #sylvain and felix friendship #angst and hurt/comfort #grief/mourning #sylvain needs a hug #felix needs a hug #just give them all hugs #fire emblem: hug everyone'

[gayspock]

omgg speaking of

ive seen a few ppl - in forums, on tumblr posts, blog stuff, etc. - talk abt how they dont like the how the more interpersonal drama is done in farscape and its like everybaddyyy is entitled to their own opinion BUT..... also makes me Sad bc its like. YES i agree some stuff is overdone- BUT many criticisms, of the stuff ive seen so far.... the thing is, it feels sooo much more realistic for growth to not be linear & for these characters to have such fraught relationships with one another considering who they are to each other.... like im SO sick of shows that wrap each "relationship" up into a neat and tidy narrative, wherein it ends with some big conclusion at the end of an episode arc, and its always a straight line between dont trust > we trust each other now which like... thats not how it works! thats not how any of it works! ever in the history of the worrrld! there is no logical, oh "well they trust each other, now, look at this so why are they still upset" in realittyyyy like- thats not how relationships work!!!!!!

and especially like... like are we forgetttinnggg... base facts here. aeryn was indoctrinated into a fascist regime from a young age like AND half the damn crew were horrifically tortured, had the trajectory of their lives changed irrevocably, and lost everything by that same regime.... and they were awfully. thrown into this situation, forced to put up with each other and desperate 2 get home after being through hell ... again at the BEGINNING of the show... like yeah man ... even if they do grow together- they are sdtill the same people from the beginning. of course theyre going to flip flop on one another. of... fucking course!!!!! help.... theyre going to have complex as hell feelings both to one another, AND with themselves like... the entire crew has been like horrifically tortured in SOME way thus far. every single one of them.... like .... of course theyregoing to have interpersonal problems

&its again. SORRY TO BE THAT CUNT BC I KNOWWW ITS NOT ALWAYS MEANT LIKE THAT. but again why i feel just a bitterness at the way some ppl use the term ""found family"" to describe everything under the sun, bc half the reason it can be so irritating is bc its like.... half the time its a sanitisation . it irons out every single nuanced fucking dynamic in a thing and the messier parts to package it up into something sooo wholesome and its like. YES YES YES i realise tht half the time its not intended-intended like that, like its just a shorthand to dilute "oh these characters grow close together" but MAN like . the incorrigible overuse & bastardisation of it just like every other fandom-adjacent "trope description" AHRGH.A CK. stop saying ohhh this show is so found familyyy when reccing stuff to ppl [beats your head in with a rock] its a NOTHING statement its NOTHING words .................. and its such a brainrotting expectation to have of things...

#Egg.txt #farscape liveblog #but not really LOL

[siqk0]

puppy goes woof

#i was intending for it to look messier but oh well #yulian #furry #furry fandom #furry wolf #canine #furry canine #kemono #kemono furry #middle finger #nsfwish? #puppy #beg #woof #goth

[jilytoberfest]

JilyFic 1

Guess the author in this form!

Prompt: “How did you get in here?”

The fic is under the cut

Midnight talk

The tap on her window felt so distant in her sleepy state that for a moment Lily thought it was just raining. Then she blinked drowsy because it didn’t make sense for rain to fall in the middle of December.

She opened her eyes, looking around for the source of the sound—and then she had to blink once more and pinch her arm to confirm she wasn’t dreaming. But, no, her boyfriend was really standing outside the window, grinning at her with a confidence that seemed to ignore the fact there was a snow storm outside threatening to drop him out of his broom.

Lily jumped out of bed, opening the window before she could think better, and James flew inside, bringing with him the cold wind and snowflakes to the warm room.

“James!”

“Alright, Evans?” he asked, the smirk on his face losing the intended effect considering his lips were blue and he was shivering.

“No, of course not! How did you get in here?”

He shot a glance at his broomstick to indicate the answer was obvious. “Flying?”

“In this weather? You are crazy, James, look at you!”

“I’d rather look at you,” he assured, lips trembling and teeth chattering loudly in the room.

Lily shook her head, grabbing a blanket from the closest bed and throwing it around him before she cast a Drying Spell.

“What were you thinking?” she asked, holding him close, trying to warm him the best she could. “And don’t say you were thinking about me.”

“See, Lily, you know me all too well,” he replied amusedly, looking at her with his hazel eyes shining. He opened his blanket, pulling her inside so he could hug her properly. “You know all my pick-up lines. It’s getting hard to surprise you.”

Lily laughed, raising her hands to cup his cold face. “I didn’t expect a visit in the middle of the night.”

“I still have a few tricks up my sleeve,” he whispered, bending his head, lips brushing against hers.

“Hmmm, I quite like those tricks,” she purred, and then he tugged at her lower lip, the tip of his tongue asking for entrance and Lily lost herself for a moment, enjoying the feelings that only James could bring her. They had been dating for a couple of months now and yet she felt she would never get truly used with the way he’d kiss her—fervently and carefully as if he still didn’t believe he could kiss her and yet resolved to enjoy every moment of it—and how his presence made warmth spread down her body, her blood boiling as her heart quickened, until she felt connected only to him and nothing else.

And perhaps that distraction—that James Potter distraction—was the reason she only noticed they had moved when she felt the column of her four-poster bed behind her.

She broke away that kiss, her face flushed. James was still close to her, his lips now red and swollen with their kiss—a much better colour—and his hair messier than when he entered the room. It was a sight that always filled Lily with satisfaction.

“So—” she began, trying to gather her thoughts. “You finally managed to find a way to crack the girl’s dormitory restriction.”

“Oh, we've known since Fourth Year,” he replied distractedly. His hand was busy tracing her jawline, holding her neck and then burying his fingers inside her hair so he could comb it. “The founders never thought of protecting the windows outside.”

“That seems like a lousy mistake.”

“I’m glad they did it. Imagine all the possibilities.”

“I don’t think you are thinking of pranks right now.”

“I’m certainly not,” he assured her. “I’d rather—”

“Think about me, yeah, I know.”

He laughed through the nose; with his mouth close to her neck now, his breath made goosebumps arise on her skin and he noticed it—his lips brushed against her skin, tracing the path of her goosebumps, knowing perfectly well he was only helping to make her skin even more sensitive.

“James—”

“Lily,” he replied easily. “This is the first time we are all alone.”

He was right, she knew. Getting a moment alone, without interruption, was incredibly difficult in a school that size. They still had James’ invisibility cloak, but the cloak wasn’t able to cover sounds and after they had been almost caught by a Third Year girl who’d thought she had encountered some distant cousin of Moaning Myrtle, they gave up sneaking around in corridors. The loss of James’ map hadn’t helped either and they both had bad experiences in broom closets that neither would talk about. Lily had ventured into his dorm one afternoon, but his friends knew no boundaries—Sirius had seemed to make a game of how many innuendo jokes he could say before Lily gave up (her record was six, but she had to admit the mood had been broken by the third).

And now she was alone in her dormitory, all her friends gone home for the holidays. It was late night and Lily knew no one would interrupt them this time…

This thought sent both a jolt of discomfort and excitement down her body and she tried to focus on the former. James’ lips were coaching soft moans from her, and she could concentrate on the way he was so warm now, on how she loved smelling his perfume and how once she turned her head, searching for his lips, he acknowledged her request at once, his hands cupping her face as he dedicated himself to kiss her into oblivion.

Her senses only returned by the time she realized they weren’t standing anymore—well, Lily was, sort of. At some point she had pushed him to sit on the bed—her bed—and she was standing between his legs, inclined towards him, her head at the perfect height for James to slide his lips from her mouth back to her neck, nibbling gently at her skin, and then below, his mouth apparently set in joining his hand, carefully busy in tracing her waist beneath her blouse and then up.

She broke away, straightening herself and opening her eyes. James’ face was alight and his eyes burned for her, molten gold with sparkles of dark green that she loved, but she couldn’t concentrate on this now.

“James,” she started again, hating the hesitation that was all over her voice even as her skin reacted to his touch. “I—maybe we should stop.”

He broke away at once, his hands leaving her body in such a hurry that she almost lost balance.

“Am I doing something wrong?” he asked, eyes widened in panic.

“No, no,” she rushed to answer him, holding his hand and hoping he understood the problem wasn’t him. “It was good. I was enjoying it. It’s just…”

Her voice faltered. The words weren’t that complicated and Lily had them ready, and yet they stuck at her mouth, unable to say it, because what if—what if—they were a dealbreaker for him? James had ventured into a snow storm to spend some time alone with her after all.

“Lils?”

She glanced at him. His eyes were still that dark green they only got when they were snogging, but she could see his concern more than any desire, and she tried to let this overcome any fear she harboured.

“I’m not ready to have sex with you.”

James blinked. Twice.

“Oh.”

And then it followed something that Lily dreaded it might happen: a silence. The kind that allowed her to hear the wind howling outside and their short breaths and even the beating of her own heart.

When that beating became too painful, she took a few steps back, leaving the comfort of the blanket.

That made him frown. “Where are you going?”

Lily forces herself to breathe slowly. “I get it if you don’t—I know you—”

“Lily,” he interrupted her softly. “Do you want me to go away?”

Her answer was easy. “No.”

“Because I’m really sorry if… if me showing up here late at night made you feel as if we should or—I don’t want to ever push you—”

“You wouldn’t. I mean.” Lily bit her lip. “I know we wouldn’t do anything I’m not comfortable with.”

“Nobody could ever make you do something you don’t want to,” he whispered, voice heavy now with a fervor that made his eyes shine. He lifted one hand, waiting carefully until Lily nodded to touch her face. “That’s one of the things I most… like about you.”

His gaze faltered for a moment and Lily doubted that he meant just “like”, but she was also glad he opted for that word. That was just another thing she didn’t feel she was ready for—she hoped she would someday.

And of the things she most liked about James was that she knew he would wait if she asked him to.

“Can I still kiss you?” he asked, eyeing her with undisguised mischief. When Lily didn’t answer, he bit the inside of his cheek. “Or not, I can just stay and talk—or, forget it, I will go to my—”

“James,” she interrupted him, mildly exasperated. “I want to kiss you, of course I do. I’m most addicted to your kisses by this point, you know. I—I just don’t want that you expect anything because—”

“Lily, I still go to bed everyday hoping only that you’ll still want to be with me the next day,” he said, pulling her closer for a hug.

She laughed. “We’ve been dating for two months, I think it’s safe to say I won’t change my mind so easily.”

“No,” he disagreed, watching her fondly. “I won’t ever take you for granted.”

And he kissed her softly, his lips moving over hers with a care that hadn’t been there ever since their first kiss.

Lily sighed, breaking away from him once more. “I want you to stay,” she admitted. “But I don’t know if I can ask you to.”

“Well, I was the one that broke into your room, so—” A laugh escaped her lips. James seemed glad with it; she knew he loved to make her laugh. “We can cuddle a bit if you want to. I’m told I’m very warm.”

She lifted one eyebrow. “Who told you that?”

“Sirius, and he was drunk and we all know we can trust a drunk man’s word.”

She giggled once more, accepting his arms. They laid in bed together, her back pressed against his chest and her head over his arm, while his free hand combed her hair softly; he planted small kisses over her neck once in a while, but for all the shivers that ran down her body when he did it, Lily felt this was almost innocent.

“Can I ask you something?” she whispered, the dim light helping with her courage.

“Anything.”

“Have you ever…”

Her voice faded away. James sighed. “No,” he admitted, and something in his voice made her aware that he was flushing, even if she couldn’t see his face. “Does.... does that make a difference for you?”

“No. Yes.” She fidgeted with her hands before locking her fingers with his. “I like that we can discover it together.”

He pulled her closer against his chest, inhaling the scent of her hair. “I want to share everything with you,” he said frankly. “And I think this would be like… like when I kissed someone else. It was good, just not…”

“You,” she agreed, turning to him, their faces inches apart. “Yeah, I think so too.”

James grinned. It was her favourite smile, the one that pulled at the corner of his lips and that lighted his whole face, but somehow it only made her feel strangely heavy.

“I’m sorry we aren’t having sex yet,” she whispered, and the grin was gone from his lips, replaced by a sudden concern. “No, I mean it. I wish we were—I wish I was ready.”

“Hey, hear me out, okay? I’ll wait as long as you need to. Merlin, if you want to wait until we’re married—or after, that’s your call.”

Her lips curled up into a smirk almost against her will. “Married?”

James grimaced. “I swear that was not a proposal.”

“No, of course not. No fanfare, no fireworks? That wouldn’t be your style.”

“You are mocking me, Evans.”

“I thought it was the best way to deal with your impromptu proposal.”

He laughed, his expression relaxing indeed. Lily pressed herself against him and kissed him, letting her worries melt under the strength of his lips and all the feelings he could arise on her. When her lips moved to press soft kisses over his neck, he laughed softly. “Kissing me is an even better way to diffuse the situation.”

She looked at him, urging her courage to not falter her.

“You can touch me,” she said, the words leaving her mouth rather hurriedly. “Above the waist, I mean. If you want to.”

“Of course I want to,” he spluttered, but he didn’t move. “Are you sure?”

She loved him for his concern. “Yeah. Yes. I’ll tell you if I want you to stop… okay?”

“More than okay,” he assured her, pressing his lips against hers once more and it was only by the time that she moaned into his mouth, truly lost in him, that his hands found their way beneath her blouse, feeling her waist and ribs. She sighed, her body contracting for a second before she let herself breath, accepting his touch, letting herself melt into the feeling of his fingers against her skin.

It seemed that only a few seconds had passed when he withdrew his hands, moving them to hold her face.

“I adore your body, you know?”

Lily smiled. “It’s a mutual feeling,” she replied. Her heart was still pounding on her chest and she let its beat fuel her courage once again. “Can I touch you too?”

He blinked, looking more eager than ever, and took out his blouse.

Lily stared at him without hiding her admiration for once (she got tired of admiring him secretly last year), letting her hand trace the muscles of his chest, rolling her fingers around the hair on his chest and following the path to his abdomen, stopping just below his navel and clenching her hand to avoid going further.

She wanted him, that she didn’t doubt for a second.

She lowered her head, placing a kiss over his heart, and accepting his arms when he pulled them around her. His chest smelled like soap and his warmth seemed to burn through her clothes. It was nice.

“Thanks for letting me stay,” James whispered, sounding nothing but grateful for her presence.

“Thanks for coming,” she answered, closing her eyes and allowing herself to sleep with him.

Guess who the author is in this form! You can also leave reviews here that I’d pass on to the author!

#masqueradechallenge #jily fic #jily fanfic #James potter #lily potter

[quicksilverrwrites]

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: peter maximoff x reader 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: you can’t sleep and neither can peter, but at least you both know exactly how to comfort one another. 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2.4k 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+, fluff, peter and reader are early to mid twenties, british reader 𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: y/n is known by the mutant name “scribe” and is charles xavier’s niece.

It’s eleven-thirty, and you can’t sleep.

Your thoughts shift to your lessons in the morning; to how tired you’re going to be; to that iced coffee you’d had while getting your assignment done after class; about how that drink was definitely a bad idea considering how you’re lying awake now. It had tasted good then, and it had given you the energy you needed to fire out five thousand words in the span of a few hours… but now you regret it.

Sighing, you roll over. Your eyes glaze over the objects on the nightstand beside your bed. Your alarm clock, rectangular in size and wooden in material, glares at you. Eleven thirty six. Eleven thirty seven. The time seems to spiral, and you realise that you might as well do something with yourself if you’re awake.

You eye the books stacked on top of the alarm clock; you’d been reading one before and it had bored you half to death, so you can’t bring yourself to pick up any again. What else? What else?

Your gaze settles upon the picture frame on the dresser next to your nightstand, and you let out a sigh as you settle upon the silver-haired speedster within it. You’re next to him, a mere blur since he’d sneakily taken the camera from your hand and taken a picture with an expression that radiates cheekiness, but you’d liked the picture enough to keep it.

You’ve got a few more picture frames scattered around your room—photos of you with Scott, Jean, Jubilee and Kurt. Even some of Charles. You might not be close, but he is your uncle, after all. He’s still family.

And yet it’s Peter you keep your eyes on. It’s Peter's mischievous aura which calls to you across the room.

What would he be doing right now? He’s probably playing video games or practicing on one of his guitars. You’d been surprised to see him play well; you’d been surprised to see that he actually had the attention span it takes to successfully learn an instrument. You would know: your mother used to nag you about practicing the piano to perfection. Practice makes perfect, she’d always said, and yet she’d always left out how much energy it took to practice in the first place.

Is it too late to reach out to him? The two of you have a specific way of speaking to one another across distances by now, although even the thought of doing such a thing due to the time seems rude. Your mother had always told you that it was your duty to be polite, and your father had by example. You think you picked it up from him rather than her, but—

Don’t think of him right now. Don’t think of what happened. Don’t.

As if in an effort to push the memory of that night from your head, you move. You pull the drawer attached to your nightstand open to reveal a mess of junk inside, but what you need—and what you spy—is a pen and paper. You pull it from the drawer and slam the nightstand drawer shut quietly, and after, you get to work writing:

Are you up? Can I come over?

Your fingers buzz with azure energy as you feel your mutation working in your favour. A tiny portal of blue opens before you, one you could make larger if you wished but one which you keep small for now. It’s no larger than a letterbox would be, and the faint sound of music from the other side tells you that Peter is very much awake.

You slip the note through the portal, and then you leave it open as you wait.

When you receive no response for a solid fifteen seconds but can hear movement on the other side, you wonder if this was a mistake after all. It’s too late, you scold yourself, mentally preparing for rejection. Oh, god, this is going to be awkward. What if he—

An empty Twinkie box falls at your feet.

You blink at it, momentarily confused, and then you pick it up. You glance about the dessert’s display as you begin to turn the box over in your hands. Nothing on the front, but on the back—

Scrawled in pink glitter pen—probably his sister’s—, the box reads on the back: Yeah. Come through.

You grin lazily as you set the box down on your bed and extend the portal with your fingers like you’re prying open a heavy door. The orange light from Peter’s basement slips through and becomes one with the light of your dorm, which is yellow and warm with your room’s wooden accented walls and flooring. And as you slip through the portal and your bare feet touch the soft tartan carpet of his room, you let the portal shut with a soft shum behind you—

But Peter Maximoff does not look his best. In fact, he looks downright miserable.

His eyes are red as if he’s been crying, his hair is messy—messier than usual, at least—and he’s wearing a band tee and some tartan pajama bottoms that look intended for comfort rather than style. You were about to say hey, but you stop in your tracks. You tilt your head as you look at him.

Peter is still. It’s strange, especially since he’s usually so eccentric. He blurts out, “What?”

You frown, momentarily stuck for what to say. “Nothing,” you respond, but it doesn’t seem right.

Peter stares at you. You stare at him. You’re both quite similar, so it strikes you then that you both know that you’re each not telling each other something.

“You okay?” You ask, suspicion clear in your tone.

Peter shrugs nonchalantly. It’s a rigid movement. “Yeah,” he says, far too confidently to be true. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You narrow your eyes on him. His tone of voice has all but solidified your suspicions. “Okay, first of all,” you say, crossing the small space of the room between you and the sofa, “you use a very distinctive tone when you lie.” You settle down on the sofa as you cross your legs under you. “Second, your eyes are really red. Have you been—?”

“No.”

Crying, you were about to ask, but he cut you off. You narrow your eyes again.

Peter sighs and averts his gaze, running a hand through his hair. “Tonight’s just… not a good night.”

You press your lips together as sympathy wells in your eyes. “Why not?”

“Can’t sleep.”

“That makes two of us."

Peter inhales deeply, and before you know it, he’s sitting on the sofa next to you. You’re used to how fast he moves by now. Something warms your heart in the way he sits with his body angled towards you. Like he’s opening himself up to you.

“Wanna stay here tonight?” He asks.

You glance at the other end of the sofa and then back to him. You’re reminded of how he took the sofa to sleep on that night after you guys got caught in the rain. “Here?”

Peter’s brows rise. “Is my basement not fancy enough for you?”

You know he’s joking even despite the lack of humour in his tone, and you let out a small huff of laughter as you flash him a lazy smile. You sit back on the sofa, reaching out your hand to intertwine it with his. Things between you are still blooming after your first date, but you both feel comfortable enough to do this. Peter’s fingers wrap around yours as he starts drawing patterns on the back of your hand with his free one.

“I just mean,” you murmur, just loud enough to be heard over the backdrop of quiet music, “won’t your mom mind?”

“She didn’t mind when you stayed over last time.”

Your lips quirk upwards in gentle amusement. “That time you slept on the couch. This time I was thinking, I mean, if you want to, then maybe—”

“Oh,” Peter murmurs. His head lifts upwards in a sort of understanding motion. “Yeah, I mean… ah, I can deal with whatever safe sex talk she wants to give me in the morning.”

Your cheeks flush red. “I didn’t mean that. I just meant maybe we could…” Oh, god, embarrassment— “cuddle.”

Peter grins. “Cuddle, huh?” He pauses, until— “Okay,” he murmurs, reaching an arm around the back of the couch to wrap around you. “I guess I could be down for cuddling.”

You snicker softly as you lean into his touch, your head resting against his shoulder. “Do you want to tell me why you looked so upset when I arrived?”

Peter tenses. “It wasn’t because of you, if that’s what you were thinking.”

“Mm,” you murmur, “I think I’m confident enough in our relationship to know that your reaction when seeing me is generally excitement rather than the dread that accompanies sad under eyes and red markings around them.”

He pauses for a few seconds before he lets out a long breath of defeat. “That obvious, huh?”

“Mm,” you murmur, looking up at him. “A little.”

His lips twist to the side as he lowers his gaze. “I was thinking about my dad.”

It’s your turn to pause now, looking up at him in a way you didn’t before. You assess every detail of his body again: the way his shoulders slump, the way his head hangs low, the way his hair falls in the way of his view and his eyes are heavy with something you haven’t seen in him before. He’s usually so full of life.

Is this what he’s hiding deep down?

“Tell me about it,” you say softly.

Peter grimaces. “It’s a long story, and the stupid thing is it’s mostly my fault.”

Frowning, you sit up and face him. “I don’t believe that.”

Peter lets out a humourless laugh that might be bitter if he showed a hint of anger, but he doesn’t. “It’s true. The only time I’ve ever been too slow and it’s in finding the most…”

He trails off, pulling his arm away from around you so that they both now rest in his lap. He continues, “It’s a mess.”

“Start from the beginning."

So he explains, if not vaguely: about trying to find his father, about finding a house empty and police arriving on the scene. Peter had fled at the sight of them, and—

“His name’s Magneto,” he admits. “Erik Lehnsherr. You’ve probably… seen him on TV or something."

Suddenly, it all adds up. You weren’t at school to see what happened with Apocalypse, but you’ve heard about it from your friend group. Peter doesn’t talk about it very much, and now you know why; had he been part of that whole adventure because of his father? He hadn’t been involved with Xavier’s School before, that much you know.

You suck in a breath. Okay, Y/N, push the fact that his dad’s a known terrorist aside— “Does he know?”

Peter shakes his head. “Nah. I had the chance to tell him and I didn’t. I screwed it up. And now I’m right back where I was before all of it, because I have no clue where he is and no way of telling him the truth. I couldn’t even do it for Wanda.”

“Hey,” you murmur, your fingers moving to cup his cheeks. “Fight or flight, right? It’s normal. To see him right in front of you—to have to muster up the courage to tell him? Knowing what a change that would be for you? Peter, that’s normal.”

Peter’s eyes well with softness as he listens to you, gazes upon you, and you think you’ve never seen him look so vulnerable as he lowers his head to your shoulder. He takes in a shaky breath; wraps his arms around you; pulls you into his lap—

“Thanks,” he murmurs into your shirt. It’s not his shirt this time; you’re wearing a pyjama set that consists of blue silk shorts and a top. “Not sure I believe you, but thanks, Y/N.”

“Is there anything I can do to make you believe me?”

Peter takes a deep breath. “Aside from mind control? Not sure.”

You press your lips together and begin to stroke his hair. “To be honest,” you murmur, “I’m not sure I’d believe you if you tried to tell me something similar about my father, either.”

Peter lets out a choked laugh. “Maybe that’s why we work together.”

Your lips curve upwards, still stroking his hair. His face is still buried in your shoulder. “Maybe,” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his head.

Peter shifts so that he’s leaning against the back of the sofa and you’re in his lap again. You turn so that you’re straddling his waist, but your fingers find his jaw to cup the skin there. Your thumb brushes soothingly against his skin.

“You mean a lot to me,” Peter murmurs, staring up at you. It’s almost as if the music in the room has stopped; it’s almost as if the two of you are the only souls left in existence. His brows are slightly raised and there is awe in his voice as he says, “I don’t really believe you’re real half the time.”

You let out a soft laugh. “Definitely real, Peter. Definitely here.”

“Yeah,” he says, his tone riddled with amusement, “and here of all places. You could be anywhere. You’re like, perfect and—”

“Ssh,” you murmur, pressing a finger to his lips. “I don’t want to be anywhere but here with you.”

Peter tilts his head up towards you, a silent request for consent, and you kiss him in answer.

He wraps his arms around your waist as he deepens the kiss, your tongue slipping out to meet his own. He makes a low, guttural noise between pleasure and content at the feeling of it, and your free hand clutches at his shirt as your other hand remains at his jaw.

You spend the rest of the evening like that, whether it's on the sofa or in his bed, but in those moments together there’s nothing carnal about it. Your touches are soft and comforting rather than lustful and yearning, and as much as you’ve thought about him that way before, you know that now’s not the time.

Tonight, you both need this. Tonight, your sole purpose is to be there for one another.

“And for the record,” Peter murmurs between kisses, his words random and uncalculated, “I think your tragic backstory’s way worse than mine.”

#peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff imagine #xmen imagine #peter maximoff fluff #peter maximoff fanfiction #peter maximoff fanfic #peter maximoff x y/n #xmen x reader #quicksilver x reader #quicksilver fanfiction #quicksilver fanfic #xmen fanfic

[titanicsimp]

Here I am with my request.

Could you bless us with a nsfw fic about Connie or Jean (I don’t see very many stories with them and yes I am looking at myself in the mirror shaking my head about Jean) about them cooking with their girlfriend and they make a mess then they take a shower together? 🥺👀

Thank you for the request ♥️

Oh my, such a tough choice between those two but I’ll pick Jean this time because I’m a sucker for his long hair and lil beard 🥵

Warnings: Modern AU!, Smut/lemon🌶

Finally, you and Jean had been given the gift of having a day off at the same time! The past year your schedules had made it borderline impossible to spend a full day together, so now the two of you had the chance, you intended to make the best of it.

You hadn’t filled the day with anything too crazy. Just a stroll in the park and a visit to the mall, activities in which you had plenty of time to talk to your fiancé.

Jean had wanted to cook with you for a while now. He has two left hands when it comes to cooking, but he was sure that with your help the kitchen would remain intact. So when you got some garlic bread from the pizza place at the mall, he got the bright idea to make a pizza yourselves when you got home. He even claimed it would have less calories, which you doubted but let slide since he seemed so adorably confident about it.

“You’re molesting it!” You squeal with laughter as Jean kneads the ball of dough slowly, doing way too much gentle squeezing.

The kitchen already looks far messier than you had intended. Bowls, jars and utensils are spread over the counter, having left smears and a dusting of flour on the granite.

He flushes red as he turns his head sideways to face you. “Isn’t this how you do it?!”

You giggle at his frustrated expression. “You have to put more force, the dough won’t get soft enough like this.”

Jean frowns and pauses, assessing the ball of dough. From the look on his face you would think he’s making a bomb, not dinner.

You almost pass out from laughter as he suddenly starts squeezing the living shit out of the dough instead. It spills out violently from between his fingers, splitting open at all sides.

“Oh my god Jean! You just went from assault to battery charges!”

He grumbles at you as he abandons his task, leaving the dough for dead.

A smirk appears on his face as he takes the spoon out of the jar of tomato sauce. Your laughter prevents you from noticing his actions, only realizing when it’s too late and a dab of sauce lands on your cheek.

You look at Jean with a gasp. “You did not just do that.”

“Oh, I believe it did.” His smirk has turned into a wide grin, mischief glinting in his light brown eyes.

Without hesitation, you grab a handful of flower and throw it his way. Jean laughs and coughs at the same time as the flower hits him right on the chin. His beard and top of his neck are coated in the white powder now.

You look each other in the eye, the challenge of who will dare to do what next heavy in the air. Both of you wait on the other. You wiggle your eyebrows at him, if he wants a Mexican standoff, he’ll get one.

Jean moves, and before you can throw something, he grabs you and pulls you close. Your combined laughter and squealing as you settle for smearing random stuff on each other sounds like a pack of hyenas has been set loose in the house, both having too much fun to stop.

“Okay! Okay! I propose a truce.” Jean finally says, his voice still cracking up with laughter as he throws his hands up.

You pant from your struggle, smearing off your hands on a nearby towel. “I think I might take you up for that.”

No matter how fun it is, it’s still exhausting to battle that stubborn man.

Jean smiles brightly before he leans in and kisses you. You return his affection, moving your soft lips against his.

He pulls away slightly. “You taste like... a lot.”

You snort and give a playful push against his shoulders. “I wonder who’s fault that is.”

“Let me make it up to you?” He proposes, taking your hand in his.

“Hhmm, fine, but after we are finishing this and YOU are cleaning up.” You say teasingly.

“Yeah, yeah. Now let’s clean us up first.” He tells you and leads you towards the bathroom.

Stripping out of your dirty clothes quickly, you join Jean, who has already weaseled his way under the warm shower.

“Scoot.” You tell him with a smile, standing close to his naked form. Your shower isn’t the biggest, and the water only sprays so far.

His hands move to your hips, stroking them lovingly as he shakes his head. “No way, this is my repayment.”

You giggle at his response and reach out to rub the flower off of his beard. The hair feels coarse and nice at the same time.

After you’ve repeated the process with his hair, he moves his hands away from your hips to clean your face.

You laugh as Jean rubs and squeezes your cheeks playfully, and he makes sure to do so gently. When his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, his soft gaze turns lustful.

“You’re so beautiful.”

You try to hide your bashfulness with a joke, but Jean silences you with a kiss. This one’s more passionate than the one you shared before. He keeps your face cupped in his hands, his lips parting so his tongue can ask for entrance. As soon as you part your lips his tongue starts exploring your mouth. You excitedly join in, rubbing your tongue against his.

As the two of you make out, you automatically move in closer. Neither of you even notice that you’re doing it until Jean’s cock presses against your belly. He sighs into your mouth when he feels the warmth of your skin.

You move a hand down to stroke him, but he pulls away as soon as you do.

“If you don’t mind, I would first like to get a piece of what I was really craving all day.”

His comment makes your abdomen clench up in anticipation and you give a nod to go ahead.

Jean backs you up against the wall of the shower and drops to his knees in front of you. He takes your right leg and lays it over his shoulder, giving him direct access to your core.

You mewl softly as he rubs two fingers through your folds, spreading you open for him. With a cocky glance up at you, he brings his tongue to your cunt. He licks down from your clit to your entrance, and up again. Every time he passes the sensitive nub he twirls his tongue over it before he continues.

You grip onto Jean’s hair. “Ah! More!”

He happily complies, closing the remaining distance and sucking on your clit. You moan loudly for him as he switches between licking and sucking, and start to feel your orgasm build.

Jean’s eyes remain glued to your face as he works your clit.

“Jean! I’m so close!” You tell him, panting.

At your warning he pulls away, instead sliding his tongue past your entrance and stroking your clit with his fingers. Your grip on his hair tightens as he fucks you on his tongue, pleasure overwhelming you.

It doesn’t take long before you shake and cum, Jean eagerly licking up your juices afterwards.

He pulls back from your cunt with a smirk. “You taste amazing, maybe we should forget the pizza altogether.”

You laugh breathily and tug at his shoulders to make him stand up. “Well, if you want to complete our little recipe, we’ll need filling.”

“Filling huh?” Jean questions teasingly.

You nod your head, trying to look serious but failing as your face is already flushed with lust.

You yelp as he picks you up, pressing your back against the cold wall and wrapping your legs around his waist as he holds you up by your ass.

“I can do that.” He says with a smirk, thrusting his hips so his cock slides against your wet cunt.

With a moan and a nudge of your legs, you encourage Jean to go on. He leans forward to kiss you again as he enters you. You moan into his mouth as he slides his cock into you slowly, letting you feel every inch.

He stills when he bottoms out and pulls away from the kiss. His eyes lock onto yours and he pulls out almost completely before slamming himself back into you, the sound of skin slapping together resonating throughout the bathroom.

His name leaves your mouth like a chant as Jean starts fucking you. You keep one hand firmly on his shoulder and let the other run through his hair.

“God, you feel so good.” He groans, his grip on your ass tightening.

His pace is slow but hard, every thrust hitting as deep as it can. Your walls pulse around him, still sensitive from your orgasm and enjoying the intrusion thoroughly.

Jean leans forward again, this time pampering your neck with kisses. You breathily moan his name when he picks a spot at your nape to plant a hickey. All of it feels so good, his cock filling you up, his lips on your neck, you just know you won’t last long this time either.

When Jean pulls back after completing his hickey, he shifts his angle just slightly.

Your nails dig into the skin of his shoulders at the sudden shift. “Keep going like that, please!”

You whimper against him as his cock slams into your sweet spot over and over again at this angle.

“Fuck, I’m so close.” Jean says, his voice sounding strained.

“M-me too.” You answer, giving him a little smile inbetween your moans.

He fucks into your faster, tearing a scream of pleasure from your throat. “I want to cum together with you.”

The look on his face tells you how bad he wants it. He needs to feel you squeezing around him and screaming his name.

You nod and moan in agreement. If you could pull him even closer you would, but you both want to see each other’s faces when you cum.

When you see that familiar look on Jean’s face, his eyebrows knit together and mouth open from gasping, it pushes you over the edge of your second orgasm. Your walls clench around his cock, making him groan out and follow behind you with his own climax. You pant and mewl as you feel his cum filling you, some already starting to drip down from where your bodies are joined.

Jean leans his forehead against yours, both of you catching your breath and shaking from your orgasms.

“Maybe we should move the wedding to next week.” He finally says.

You giggle and shake your head. Not that you are opposed to tying him to you sooner.

He kisses your forehead before he slowly pulls out of you, his cum making a mess of your legs and the shower floor.

Jean sets you down carefully, one hand never leaving your hip as he guides you back under the warm water of the shower.

You urge him to stand close to you again, rubbing your hand over his chest. “I love you, Jean.”

You can feel his heart beat faster under your hand, and the long locks of hair that the water makes stick to his face do nothing to hide his blush.

“I love you too.” He tells you with a smile so sweet it makes your heart rate match his.

After the exchange you help each other clean up. Washing off the little ‘recipe’ that you guys created so you can get back to the real one waiting in the kitchen.

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