#if you go back to gen 1 and 2

[nikatyler]

Moss: "A long time ago, there was a king with a cheese coloured beard…"

[deus-ex-mona]

sometimes, i think about how ☝︎this rando☝︎ from the [redacted] anime inspired me to tl idol sengen out of spite for her butchered characterisation

[todayisafridaynight]

We rlly don’t need another majima game 😭 please give other characters a chance he already had the spotlight in 0😔

lord if i speak on goro majima.

[yurilvr4]

geum seong-je from whc2 hcs!!

cw mean behavior, emotional abuse(?), dubious consent, bj and other nasty stuff. semi publicsezx

-

i gen feel like from the way he acts, he's an asshole no doubt about it. he probably has like really weird random turn ons too.

would put out his cigarette butt out on your skin. i genuinely feel like he would do this idk.

especially if he was particularly mad/angry, or frustrated he'd just punch the wall, kick shit around or just go to you. his favorite play thing.

either that or he would deadass just treat you like his personal ash tray. he's tapping cigarette residue over your skin, not all the time, when he feels like it.

“what? you like this?? fucking freak.” he'd laugh in your face too, holding your jaw in between his fingers as he shows his teeth cackling.

i feel like he's the condescending type…yeah.

he would be like “stupid baby can't handle a little smoke?” just for him to blow it in your face.

his kisses are 100% rough, like face smashing and just teeth clacking, tongue in the mouth type shit.

he would grab you randomly too, anywhere he sees first, your waist, your arm..your hair if he has to.

• he's super tall too, so he just hovers over you like a tree. his neck craning downward so he can look at your face better, sometimes you have to push his glasses up on his head so the lenses don't hurt your nose when you kiss.

“quick kiss.” and he smooches your mouth loudly, glasses clashing against your face you have to remove it before he breaks it.

-

despite him being the way he is, you find him tolerable than most of the other guys he hangs out with.

he likes playing with your hair randomly. anytime he sits next to you he plays with your hair, takes a strand between his thumb and pointer and just twirls it around. sometimes even combs his fingers through your hair, massages the scalp and all. he likes seeing your relaxed face.

he also has this habit of laying on you. just randomly draping his body over yours, front, back, doesn't matter, he'll drape himself over you dramatically.

“ahh…fuck, what a day.” he would flop himself on you like you're his personal bed.

• lays on your lap.

• legs on your lap (asks you to massage him)

• arms around your shoulder, waist

• head buried into your neck, occasionally biting.

• leans his cheek on your head and pushes you around. asshole..

things he does to you only

pats your face after you explain something to him or when he praises you after listening to him.

“look at that,” with a fascinated (mocking) smile. “not fucking useless after all.”

• shoves his fingers into your mouth when you talk too much. idk he's kind of gross. he would literally pry his fingers through your lips, past your teeth and settle his fingers at the back of your throat. and if you deny him he's going to retaliate immediately.

laughs when you try to reason with him or say the things he does to you is taking it too far.

“sluts don't get to have opinions. you're mine no?”

• would share his cig with you only if you ask for it, otherwise you're just getting second hand smoke . would laugh in your face if it's your first time smoking and you cough it all out. (he teaches you later though)

• kisses your skin after he’s done bruising it. your blossoming skin hurts less because your heart flutters everytime he makes you “feel better”.

he probably tilts your head back by the hair just to kiss you tbh. his kisses are soft and sloppy and rough all the same

• would randomly find you and pull you into empty alleyways or empty rooms, only for him to make you suck his cock.

“found you.. make me come okay? today was so shit.”

• likes seeing you cry lots.

he secretly has pictures of you on his phone. he would only stare at them when he can't see you that day, so he settles for imagining your body next to his, staring at your photos on his gallery, even the one where his cock is buried in you and you're forced to pose for him.

“okay, 3..2..1 , cheese~~” when he realizes you're not following instructions he clicks his tongue. “look at me or i’ll cut you.”

• when you try to fight back he acts mockingly defensive. treating you like some whiney child with no say in anything.

“what?? gonna hit me? haha!” he would laughhhh in your face.

• is lowkey possessive of you. he doesn't like sharing, he doesn't let other people (his friends) or other guy's get close to you. it has to be him close to you at all times. if you want something, go to him, talk? talk to him. literally anything you do, it has to be with him.

likes showing you off though. whenever you two go out, he shows you off, but makes sure that everyone around knows that you're his. hand on your thigh, arm around your shoulder, fingers playing with your clothes or hair. he does that thing where he tilts your face with two fingers to the side and kisses you slow.

things he finds hot: seeing you cry a lot (I'm talking snot running down, cheeks red, nose red, sobbing mess), seeing your scared/fearful expression, squirting (he laughs whenever you do), your bruises, when your mouth is stuffed with his cock, when you complain he doesn't fit and it hurts, your (genuine) smile, your face in general.

“a..ah…hurts ..i-it won't fit..” you would let out a pathetic sob, brows knitted together, body spasming as you try to accommodate his girth. “you're so fucking good for me, aren’t you? take it.” his palm would squeeze your ass and he would sheath himself further in, distracting you with a deep kiss.

likes it when you initiate intimate things first. when you kiss him, he looks at you with a knowing smirk but doesn't press it further and waits for you to finish what you started. he likes it when you're needy for his attention. this also applies with cuddles or hugs.

canonically a masochist btw

so 100% he likes it when you're rough with him as well, pull his hair? he laughs manically, trying to match the energy. bite him? sure, he doesn't mind a little bruising.

• when he's particularly lazy on some days, you have to take it as a responsibility to look after him. like making sure he eats actual food, smoking less and basic hygiene.

you cook his meals because he says he likes your homemade food better

clean up after his mess (cigarettes, the packet itself and other trash laying around)

massaging his head because he likes it when you touch him like that.

you cleaning his glasses lens, his clothes and styling his hair sometimes(only when he allows you).

patching his skin up after a fight, whenever he gets cuts on his face- you patch em up until he gets better (he'll deny you at first, saying he doesn't need your help but he's particularly soft when it comes to you)

only you.

-

+ note he's so fine I had to write something about him. probably not accurate because i only analyzed his character from the series and headcanoned him as such. thank you for reading🥀

[deadsetobsessions]

Sea Cryptic! Danny AU- Pt.4

[Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.5] [Pt.6] [Pt.7] [Pt.8] [Pt.9] [Pt.10]

Danny was sitting in the back, his backpack obnoxiously taking up the seat next to him, when the door to the lecture hall creaked open near silently.

“What are you in here for?” Danny asked the guy who crept into class. He sympathetically took his backpack off the Seat of Shame and allowed the guy to sit down. Funnily enough, they had the same hair and eye color.

“Gen Ed. Undecided. You?” The guy grunted quietly back.

“Environmental studies. I’m Danny.”

“Tim.”

With the implicit understanding of two people in a required class they could not give less than two fucks about, Tim and Danny tuned back into the lecture. When the class was assigned group work, Danny looked over to see Tim softly snoring, head slammed down on the table.

“Tim. Wake up, dude.” Danny poked his shoulder.

“Huh? Class over?”

“Nah, we got group work. Discussion board.”

“Oh shit, thanks for waking me up. Wanna team up?”

Danny shrugged. “Sure. We should aim to post it in the middle so the professor doesn’t read our answers to the class.”

“Yeah, sounds like a good idea. Any idea what we’re talking about?”

“Kind of?”

“Good enough for me.”

——

Tim Drake kept seeing Danny Fenton around on campus.

“Danny! Dude, what are you doing?”

Danny turned, gloved hands full of crumpled trash. “Picking up after the student population, apparently.”

“Didn’t think environmental studies was that serious.”

“Global warming is very serious, you jerk,” Danny smirked at him, crossing the grass to put the trash into the trash can. “Reduce, reuse, oil shouldn’t be spilled in water and all that.”

“Basic stuff,” Tim grinned. Nice, he basically had a friend past Bernard now!

They were friends, right?

“And yet humanity fails to comprehend it. Incredible. Incredibly stupid that is.”

“They get it. Major corporations just don’t care.”

Danny sighed. “True that. You on your way to your next class?” He took off his biodegradable gloves off (nitrile and nylon, baby!) and chucked them into the trash.

“I’ve got free time, actually. Prof cancelled for his daughter’s surgery.”

“Oh, shit, that’s rough! You wanna go downtown and join the strike?”

“A strike? What for?” Even as he asked, Tim hiked his bag higher onto his shoulder, ready to go. They fell into step as the two left campus.

“Apparently, Quillan Pharma was doing some shady shit at their manufacturing plants. I think it’s like killing kids, and pouring toxins into the ground.”

“Oh, shit.”

“Yeah. Oh! Poison Ivy’s gonna be there!”

Tim blinked. He casted a sideways look at Danny. Sure he’s been here long enough to know… but it couldn’t hurt to check. “You know she’s an eco-terrorist, right?”

“Okay, but like… people suck sometimes. And all she’s asking for is like don’t kill the planet. And she doesn’t do that whole mind control thing too much anymore! The Sirens are so cool. Plus, one of my best friends at home might actually kill me if I don’t try to get her autograph. Poison Ivy is like, Sam’s personal hero.”

Tim snickered. “Yeah, okay. Mind if one of my friends join? His name’s Bernard.”

“The more the merrier,” Danny nodded. “Ooo! Hot chocolate. Want some?”

Danny bought three drinks as Tim trailed behind, texting Bernard.

“He said yes.”

“Cool! We should meet up somewhere before the drinks get cold.”

Well, Danny got the autograph. Tim got a new friend, and Bernard got a drink from his crush.

——

“Oh, you’re the glowing dude that Batman always talks about!”

Danny blinked, eyes scanning the wing-like cape and the yellow emblem on the hero’s suit. Danny was indeed glowing, stars and nebulas freckling across neon green skin, and glowing hair the color of a white dwarf star, tinged with the blue from his ice core.

“I… have absolutely no idea who you are,” Danny lied, like a liar. He’s found a surprising niche of entertainment in messing with the local vigilantes and he’ll be damned if he missed this opportunity.

He heard a snicker from the comm lines as Red Robin visibly brushes it off.

“I’m Red Robin. Why are you picking up trash?”

“Picking up after you humans, apparently.”

The both of them blink, feeling a weird sense of déjà vu. A moment of awkward silence passed before they both shook it off.

“Are you here to help? No offense, but the track record for you people is terrible.” Danny strode over and grabbed a bag. He opened it, and shook it at Red Robin’s face. “See? Batarangs, these odd bird looking ones, the R’s. Seriously, pick up after yourselves!”

“Oh, woah, can we have these back?”

Danny yanked the bag back before Red Robin could get close. “Pay me. These were incredibly tedious to pick up. Especially the batarangs. I mean, I even found a whole bunch of old rusted ones in the middle of the bay. What did you do, dump an entire bag in there from the air?”

Red Robin sighed and took out a wad of cash, with tracking fluid all over it. Danny grimaced, smelling the odd scent on the money. “That’s not real cash. It smells off. Are you trying to give me counterfeits because you’re broke?”

Red Robin gaped, oddly offended. “No! They’re real!”

“Doesn’t smell like it. It’s stinkier than the trash. Go get the one with the money, the litterer. Tell him I’ll be back the next full moon. I don’t want to talk to you anymore.” Danny grumbled, disappearing on the spot to watch Red Robin flounder with the stack of cash and the piles of dead bodies on the shore.

“What the fuck even is my life these days?” Red Robin wondered out loud, stuffing the cash back into his pocket. He looked over the plastic wrapped bodies and slumped, sighing.

Oddly enough, Danny felt a sense of sympathy. Well, he’s not getting paid for sympathy. He’s not getting paid at all tonight, actually. Danny flew off, plunging once more into the depths of the significantly cleaner waters, and used his ice to scoop out oil stains.

Danny glanced around and sighed. He had a lot of work to do.

——

“So you’re saying he’s like a werewolf mermaid fae child immortal god thing, right?”

Bruce grunted.

“B, what the hell are you smoking these days? You know drugs are bad, right? Do we need Superman to give you that PSA?” Jason snickered.

Tim, massaging his arms from having to haul an ungodly amount of dead bodies, grunted. He’s so similar to Bruce that it gave the people currently in the cave hives.

“He said full moon. I don’t think we can track him with regular stuff. The bugs kept shorting out.”

“Oh boy,” Dick sighed. “Don’t fall off the spiral cliff, Tim. You’ve got midterms to think about so no stalking the guy.”

“Yet,” Tim shot back, changing out of his suit.

Bruce grunted, setting aside a huge stack of cash.

[teojira]

[Dance with The Devil] [movie!Shadow x reader headcanons]

Summary: a collection of random headcanons/small scenarios based on my "Click Click Boom" post for Shadow!

Word count: 1.5k

Disclaimer (1): Harkness scale people, he is of age and can consent and is sentient. I'm allowed to want to kiss the hedgehog.

Disclaimer (2): This can be read as Romantic or Platonic! Though I did write it to be implied romance.

A/N: Yall asked for more, who am I to deny the people (I imagine kissing him every second of the day). I tried to hit a lot of asks all in one to give eveyrone what they asked for! I hope y'all enjoy! Reblogs and comments are super appreciated and motivate me to write more <3

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Shadow is so extremely overprotective of you, borderline to an unhealthy agree but is it really when you're welcoming to it??

You, by all means, shouldn't encourage him. He's one of the strongest beings on the planet. He can't just make threats, God knows if he'll act out on them.

You can't help but let it happen though, a warm fuzzy feeling deep in your chest clouds your judgment for a few moments. Knowing that Shadow sees you as someone worth protecting, of caring for.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Shadow baring his fangs at Sonic and fucking growling is new though.

"Shadow did you just- did you just fucking growl?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sonic was just trying to hug me dude, relax.'

"He'll get his scent all over you. No."

Shadow turns his back on you, so he misses the blush that overtakes your entire face.

He has an inkling though, if the strangled cry from your throat is any indication.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Riding ! With ! Him !!! He takes you on drives all the time, it helps him clear his head and it's his way of asking for physical contact without giving you idea, feeling you against his back and your body pressed up against his does wonder for his mental health, he'll purposefully take longer routes and side roads at night to keep you close.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

If you fall asleep on the couch, Shadow isn't gonna curl up with you, but he's next to the couch, head propped up against the arm rest as he watches over you. He's well aware he could just teleport you both to your room, but you look too peaceful :( and he knows he takes up all your time and energy, so he rather let you rest.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Shadow always walks behind you. It's a nervous habit. If he wanders behind, he has the perfect view to scan for threats.

You go to tell him he's being paranoid, but stop yourself. The last person he cared for died, the girl who gave him a purpose. You shut your joke down fast, shaking your head when Shadow raises an eye bridge at your expression.

"Do you want to hold my hand?" You go with that instead.

"Absolutely not."

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Please god can you imagine shopping for him, getting his leather jackets and what not bc he fucking deserves it, especially when you nervously claim that he needs the correct gear for riding his motorcycle and he hits you with:

"That's useless, I can easily chaos control if need be."

BUT HE DOESN'T RIDE WITHOUT IT EVER !!!! You even got it monogrammed, and he runs his thumb across it often, scoffing at himself when he realizes, snatching his hand away.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Shadow likes to be useful, even though you tell him again and again that he doesn't owe you anything, he doesn't listen.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

If you wear makeup and ever fall asleep in it, you can't ever seem to remember if it was you who took it off, your memories jumbling up together to the point you're not sure.

It was Shadow, he knows you don't like showing others your bare face, which he thinks is ridiculous as shit, he likes you as you are, whether with makeup or bare, you're you.

Please I could cry imagining him so gently taking a makeup wipe and rubbing small circles to get that waterproof eyeliner off of you, eyes laser focused into his task. I'm gonna throw up.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

In the colder months, he's susceptible to being more mellow and relaxed. Despite being the ultimate life form and having fur, he still gets cold and hates the feeling.

This brings me to the fact that bro steals your blankets, he has no remorse and will walk right into your room to take your heated blanket. He's an asshole.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Fully believes that nicknames are stupid and that they don't matter, the best he's gonna do for you is call you by your first Intial (ex: Teddy = T) It's rare that he'll do call you by it regardless, but beggers cannot be choosers.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Getting matching bangles to match his inhibitor rings!! Makes him go stupid for a second, brain computing that oh??? You want to match him?? He's gonna tease you, but when you threaten to just take them off, he immediately goes quiet.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

The subject of being sick came up often in asks, and he struggles really hard with it. It's not obvious, but if you look closely, his quills are pin straight, and he's easily more agitated.

He's not mad at you, it's not your fault, it's just that seeing you curl up into bed brings back so many bad memories of when Maria has flare ups and couldn't leave her bed.

It made him feel useless. His whole reason for being was to help cure illness, maybe not the common cold. He's aware of that, but the point remains.

Shadow gets more docile, even going to ask Maddie what to do. The woman offers to come over and take care of you instead, but Shadow shuts her down quickly. He's more than capable, and he's a little overprotective.

"Are you sure? I don't mind, I don't have anything going on."

"That isn't necessary."

"But it might be better if it's m-"

"I can take care of them."

It's hard to argue with a 5ft hedgehog that can easily snap your neck, so she regents and hands him over some cold and flu medicine along with painkillers and vaporub and instructions. He looks so silly with all of it in his arms, Gatorade, water, the medicine, some food, but it warms your heart. You haven't had anyone really look after you when you were sick, always left to fend for yourself, so it's nice.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

For my period havers, I am on mine, so this made it in:

Shadow using his hands as personal heating pads for your stomach or the small of your back, you can't seem to remember where you put your heating pad so he sits there with you and just, shoves his hand onto your skin, it's added comfort due to his fur.

"Oh my god, that feels good."

You groan into your pillow, curling up into a ball, your back facing the ultimate lifeform.

"Is it really that bad?"

Shadow hums, moving to ever so slightly knead the skin, smirking to himself when you damn near moan at the feeling.

"You know damn fucking well it's that bad."

Shadow snorts.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Once you're both closer, he allows you to touch him alot more, so long as you ask him first if you can run your fingers over his quills, he finds it soothing, it's common to find you both on the couch, fast asleep together with the TV set to come true crime YouTube video.

Sonic takes a million pictures, to which he sends to Shadow later. The black hedgehog doesn't say anything, but he secretly saves each one.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Speaking of the others, you try and force him to spend time with team Sonic to varying degrees of success. Mainly the success being if you will also be there and be by his side. The team likes you well enough, always playfully telling you that they can handle Shadow if he ever hurts you.

Which gets them Shadow staring them down, his eyes lighting up as a warning.

You'd think they'd learn that this man doesn't play when it comes to you, but they're a bit stupid.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

When it comes to any insecurities you may have, he shuts that shit down IMMEDIATELY, you think it's because he genuinely doesn't give a fuck, but no, it's because he cares about you and will logically tell you facts. Does it help? It's varying, but he still tries.

Issue with your weight. He doesn't care. Are you healthy? That's all that matters. He's strong enough to lift you up, and he'll demonstrate it on you if need be. He doesn't know who put it into your head that there's any issue with it, but he'll fix it.

"Shadow, can I ask you something?"

"Go on."

"Does my weight ever bother you?"

"I am not like human men."

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

You're insecure about talking about your interests/hyperfixations? He actively will sit down and listen, eyes intense as he takes in every single word you're saying. He'll nod and hum, but his ears are flicked towards you, and Shadow will ask questions pertaining about the characters.

The motherfucker is healing you slowly but surely, mentally and sometimes physically.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

No one thinks that Shadow would be a good companion and will make jokes offhandily that they're sorry that YOU'RE stuck with him, and you don't correct them. They don't deserve to know him.

They don't get to know how the lifeform curls up next to you on his bad days, seeking your affection.

The hedgehog who helps you dry the dishes after every meal with a way too focused look on his face.

The Shadow that always cracks dry ass jokes in hopes to make you smile after a long day.

It's your little secret, and it's one you gladly keep to yourself.

"Oh, he's stuck with me." You wave them off with a smug smirk on your face.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

[godmadeaterribleerror]

No Love Lost Series Masterlist

Read on A03! - Listen to the Playlist!

Main Masterlist - Soldier Boy Masterlist

Rating/Warnings: 18+ for canon-typical violence, swearing, mental health issues, mentions of rape/non-con, and sexual content.

Tags: Soldier Boy/Supe!Female Reader, enemies to friends to lovers, canon divergence, slow burn, smut, angst, fluff.

Series Summary

Three years ago you were normal, the only demons you had to fight were your own, and you the most you knew of Vought and the Boys were what you saw on TV. But then you met Homelander at a stupid party, and woke up the next morning in a cell.

After almost two and a half years of you being Homelander's little project, Soldier Boy was woken up only go rouge and be put back under. Somewhere in there, you escaped. And before Queen Maeve went underground, she told William Butcher about the Anomaly, a powerful supe who recently escaped Vought captivity and may have an agenda against Homelander.

One month later, the Boys found you.

You spend the next five months helping them best you can, though your control over your powers is weak and your fear of Homelander makes you useless in combat. But you get an idea. A stupid, dangerous idea that turns you into Soldier Boy's keeper, giving him a second chance to take down Homelander, you hanging over his shoulder, a threat should he want to go nuclear again. It's exhausting and frustrating, and you might kill him and yourself as soon as this is over, but you said whatever it takes.

And this is what it takes.

Author's Note

This story is non-canon compliant, with the two main differences being;

1) Butcher doesn't have brain cancer, because I said so.

2) All of Gen V didn't take place, because I don't want to deal with the whole supe-plauge thing. Also that's too many characters to keep track of squad.

Because of this, the story will start in a similar setting as s4e5, but with different events leading up to it, and will deal with similar themes and have similar events to the rest of s4, but at an inconsistent rate. If you have any questions about other, smaller changes I have made, feel free to ask!

Navigation Key

❤️‍🔥 = Smut

🚩 = Additional Warnings

Chapter List

Chapter 1 - Where Winning Looks Like Losing Chapter 2 - A New Kind of Tension Chapter 3 - You've Torn Your Dress 🚩 Chapter 4 - You Might Be The Same As Me Chapter 5 - Popped, Cool, and Ready to Go Chapter 6 - I've Been Searching for a Fortified Defense Chapter 7 - The Blinding Ultra-Violence 🚩 Chapter 8 - I Just Find My Way Back ❤️‍🔥🚩 Chapter 9 - Can't Cover It Up ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 10 - Lead Me To The Ark ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 11 - The Wolves or The Ocean Rocks Chapter 12 - While My Blood's Still Flowing Chapter 13 - The Terror of Knowing Chapter 14 - Choke on Sun Chapter 15 - I Found A Martyr ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 16 - Let It Flood ❤️‍🔥 🚩 Chapter 17 - Make My Chest Stir Chapter 18 - Something In The Static ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 19 - Don't Look Back 🚩 Chapter 20 - Forget to Fall Down Chapter 21 - Some Things You Just Can't Speak About ❤️‍🔥 🚩 Chapter 22 - I Stayed In The Darkness With You Chapter 23 - Wherever You're Going ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 24 - You'll Never Be Alone ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 25 - All I Know ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 26 - I’ve Loved Everything About You That Hurts ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 27 - Just A Shot Away 🚩 Chapter 28 - Something That I'm Supposed to Be ❤️‍🔥 Chapter 29 - All My Bets On You Chapter 30 - Every Demon Wants His Pound of Flesh 🚩 Chapter 31 - I'd Do It All Again ❤️‍🔥

More Than You Could Ever Know - A No Love Lost Christmas Special

Part 1 - The Boys start Secret Santa, Ben pretends to do his job. ❤️‍🔥 Part 2 - Ben and Ryan go shopping, and you all try to find a tree. Part 3 - You and Ben have a Christmas Eve date. Many gifts are opened.

Bonus Footage (Standalone Chapters)

Dying’s Up to Me - A Prologue. Takes place 6ish months before Chapter 1. 🚩 They're Never Gonna Find You A Home - Request! Everyone adjusts to your life with the Boys. Takes place 5ish months before Chapter 1. 🚩 Back to Here - Request! They get horny at the dining table, and Butcher takes it personally. Takes place in Chapter 14. It's So Simple - You make Ben do icebreakers. He's a little bitch about it. Takes place in Chapter 14. Just Your Time - You give Ben internet lessons. Takes place in Chapter 14. As Much As I Do - Request! Ben finds you dancing, is immediately very normal about it. Takes place after Chapter 14 and around Chapter 15. Calling Your Name - Ben's first birthday awake isn't great. Takes place in Chapter 19. ❤️‍🔥 I Skip My Pride - You share some music with Ben over text. Takes place in Chapter 22. The Only Place That I Call Home - It's team game night, and everyone is sick of you and Ben's shit. Takes place in Chapter 24. ❤️‍🔥 Can't Help Myself - Request! Ben has a breeding kink, and you're incredibly horny, so it works. Takes place in around Chapter 24 and Chapter 25. ❤️‍🔥 Anywhere Else Is Hollow - A halloween special episode! Takes place in Chapter 25. It Was Smiling Down - A Ryan pov Chapter. Takes place between Chapter 26 and Chapter 27. A Call To Motion - Request! There's a lot of things you're good at. Sex with Ben is one of them. Takes places in Chapter 28.❤️‍🔥 I Want You Only - You and Ben go shopping. Takes place in Chapter 28 ❤️‍🔥 I’ll Hold Your Hand - Request! You get your period, and Ben has to do his job and take care of that. Takes place post series.

Found Footage (Post-Series Chapters)

Just Too Important - You and Ben head to Costco. Takes place about two months post-series. Dreams of Love - Request! You and Ben have to babysit. Takes place ten months post-series. Setting In A Honeymoon - You and Ben finally get a honeymoon. Takes place about a year post-series. The Best Thing - Request! You, Ben, and Ryan get a cat. You Can Feel It - Ben has a birthday. Takes place on May 19th, post-series.

Stuff By You Guys!!! (Art, Memes, and Anything more)

Early Chapters Moodboard by @deans-yn Ben and Sunshine Inspired Art by @castielsfoot

[incognitopolls]

For the purposes of this poll, "mothers/grandmothers/etc" can include biological, adoptive or step- relationships, as long as they were involved in raising the subsequent generation. (Do not include your aunts, cousins, etc who are not in your direct lineage.)

"Employment" can be on or off the books, but must involve monetary compensation for the work performed.

–

We ask your questions anonymously so you don’t have to! Submissions are open on the 1st and 15th of the month.

[potofsoup]

i love your fourth of july comics every year but this years feels extremely optimistic about biden’s abilities in the face of him letting roe get overturned and funding a gen*cide at worst or letting it happen at best by taking the bare minimum of regulatory action… i mean can he really be trusted at all anymore to do the right thing or act in line with the people’s demands? and how do we know the people behind project 2025 won’t just rig the election again to get in under false pretenses?

Hihi! Thank you for reading and enjoying my July 4th comics every year! I am in a non-US airport en route to a month-long trip in a place with sketchy internet, so sorry in advance for sloppiness in my response (and potentially going radio silent).

But:

I don't think he "let" Roe get overturned, since that was the Supreme Court's overwhelming conservative majority, which really started with Mitch McConnell refusing to approve Obama's appointee and forcing it into a 2016 election issue. The fact that Trump got to appoint 3 Supreme Court Justices is what got us here.

Re: Biden and the Israel/Hamas war ... on the one hand, there's definitely more that he could have done, but on the other hand, they are a whole other country over there. It's Hamas that initiated the Oct 7 attacks and took the hostages. It's Netanyahu and his right-wing government who decided to retaliate to such extreme extent. Biden can talk about how he would really like Netanyahu to stop fighting and step down, but at the end of the day that's not his call, any more than he can stop the Sudan fighting that is near-genocidal either.

So, to come to your question #1: "Can he really be trusted at all anymore to do the right thing or act in line with the people’s demands"?

For me, it's a resounding YES. Guyz, he has passed so much good domestic policies. My spouse works in green energy and the passing of the Inflation Reduction Act halved his anxiety and gave him legitimate hope. The tumblr post I linked to in my comic has links to many of the other great things that Biden has done. Tbh I voted for him in 2020 because "a moldy onion is still better than Trump", and I've been pleasantly surprised. Like how he tried to cancel student loans, the Supreme Court overturned it, and then he came back 6 months later with a different way to do it that didn't lead to a court challenge.

Is he perfect? Hell no. There's tons of stuff that I wish he did more about, or he went further on, but also he's just one guy heading one branch of government who is heading into an election year. (Just like FDR promising not joining WWII, while behind the scenes doing all the Lend-Lease Act stuff). And "the people" have lots of demands, many of them conflicting.

I'd also like to push at the unspoken part of your question... "Can he really be trusted to do the right thing..." compared to whom? Because right now the answer is "compared to Trump." And compared to Trump... I don't even trust Trump to respect the results of a legitimate election. Heck, he might just take his favorite state secrets, sell them to the highest bidder (or just show them off to someone for funzies), and then claim Presidential immunity. A decent Democrat who got stuff done vs someone who probably wants to pardon himself and all his friends and do Project 2025 stuff is not even on the same level. (Do I wish that there was a viable Democratic alternative to Biden? Sure! But who?) Heck, at this point -- imagine if it's Kamala Harris vs. Trump. Who would you vote for?

As for your question #2: "How do we know the people behind project 2025 won’t just rig the election again to get in under false pretenses?"

We don't. But also what can we do besides showing up to vote?

Actually, I need bullet points for this:

The 2022 midterm elections brought in fewer-than-expected election-deniers into crucial electoral offices at the state level, which means that hopefully most state electoral boards will continue to have integrity

Yes, voting is harder but at least we can still vote. So it's about getting out there and getting your vote counted. For some states, it involves waiting in 8 hour lines. For some states, it involves bringing 2 forms of ID. Document. Track. Make sure it's dropped off in a real ballot box and not a fake one. Don't believe messaging that the voting is happening on a different day or location, etc.

A 50.1% majority is easily challenged. A 55% majority, less so. Which means getting people out to vote.

The more people know about and think about the reality of a second Trump term (versus being disappointed by a Biden term), the more they will be motivated to vote against Trump.

Finally, let's be real here: I'm braced for a 2nd Trump term. That said:

I'm still going to go and vote for Biden, because the only way to prevent a 2nd Trump term is to vote.

A Trump term where either the House or Senate is controlled by the Democrats will be *very* different from a clean Republican sweep.

Even with a clean Republican sweep on the federal level, States have so much more power now, and voting the state level stuff will help shore up Democratic goals for the future. States get to draw voting districts however they want. States get to decide on abortion policies. If you live in a deep Red state, there still might be things to vote for that make it easier to live in now, and turn it purple a few elections down the line.

So at the end of the day, it's "Vote AND". Vote and keep living your best life. Vote and tell others about Project 2025. Vote and have hope. Even if Trump wins, at least you'll have voted against him. Vote and stay to build up a progressive wave for the next election.

[deus-ex-mona]

as the days inch closer to the release date of the digital release, so does my temptation to tl it just for the chuucon—

[lightsoutletsgo]

the one where ollie lives alone (cl.16 x bearman!reader)

pairing: mainly ollie bearman x oldersister!reader for this part but there's a plenty of charles leclerc x bearman!reader here and there!

word count: 4.2k

warnings: a whole lot of stupidity mentions of death, seemingly angsty in some parts (you'll see what I mean) this might be one of my favourite parts I've written for any series ever 😭 it's so dumb but so funny (according to the people who proofread for me!) as always let me know what you think! your comments are always appreciated. happy reading! mimi 🤍

taglist: @arieslost @iamapersonwholikesunicorns

“Jesus Y/N, what the hell is in here?” Ollie wheezed as he staggered past you, arms straining under the weight of the box he was carrying. You rolled your eyes, “You’re so dramatic Ols, it’s literally just makeup.” 

“Is that the last box ma belle?” You turned and saw Charles in the doorway, staring at you fondly. “Mhmm! Everything else is in the van.” You held your arms out to him and he crossed the room, pulling you in by your waist and kissing you softly, “I can’t believe you’re finally coming home with me…” You smiled, looping your arms round his neck, “Me either,” He booped your nose with his own, a loud cough making the two of you jump apart as Ollie leaned against the doorframe, one eyebrow raised, “Are you two done being gross?” “Shut up dummy.” You punched his arm as you walked past him towards the front door. You inhaled deeply, it felt strange but exciting to be moving out and into Charles’ apartment. 

Behind you, Charles watched Ollie stare at you, looking like he wanted to say something. He quietly padded up behind the younger driver and nudged his arm,  “Are you going to miss her?” Ollie was startled but quickly scoffed, “Hmm? No way!” Charles gave him a pointed look, “I get the whole place to myself! I can’t wait!” Charles gave him a smile and punched his arm gently, “We’re only ten minutes away if you need us.” Ollie laughed, “Thanks but I can manage!” 

♯ incident 1 - the dishwasher ⊹.∿  As it turned out, Ollie could in fact, not manage. Mere hours after you’d left him, you found yourself sprinting back up the stairs, cursing the old apartment building for still not having an elevator. You reached the floor of your old apartment and checked the door to see if it was open, turning the handle and entering you called out, “Ollie? I got your text!” You poked your head into each room as you went, searching for him, “What’s the emer…gen…cy…” You trailed off as you reached the kitchen, Ollie staring up at you with wide eyes, crouching next to the dishwasher that was… pouring out soapy bubbles? “Ollie!” “I think I made a mistake.” He said dryly, suspiciously poking some of the bubbly foam next to his shoulder, “Yeah, no shit Sherlock.” You said sarcastically, thinking of a solution, “You put dish soap in didn’t you?” He nodded sheepishly, “There were no dishwasher tablets left so I just… thought on my feet?” You facepalmed and sighed, “Okay well, we need to- DON’T OPEN IT!”

You looked on in horror as Ollie pulled open the door and a torrent of soapy warm foam spilled out and all over the kitchen floor, creeping further into the centre of the room, was it… growing? You looked over at your brother to see him staring back at you with comically wide eyes. “So that’s why we don’t do that.” You said, face deadpan. Ollie giggled nervously, “Oops?” A snort from behind you had you turning round to see Charles filming the whole thing, “Oh some help you are babe.” Charles coughed to cover up his laughter as he put his phone away and entered the foamy bubbly monstrosity that was now the kitchen. “Somewhere under here there’s a bucket and mop.” “Ollie?” “Yeah?” “You’re going in.” 

♯ incident 2 - french toast ⊹.∿ A few days had passed since the dishwasher incident and you dozed in Charles’ arms, enjoying the lazy Sunday morning sun slipping through the bedroom curtains. The previous night’s activities had left you a little worn out and with no plans for the day, you had wordlessly agreed that a cosy day in bed was just what you needed. A shrill sound pierced the air and jolted both you and Charles awake. You scrambled to find your phone, as Charles groaned, hands rubbing his face as your hand came up to feel how quickly your heart was pounding. You glanced at the screen as your hand met your phone and you scowled, Charles rubbing your back and doing his best not to laugh as he saw who was calling you,  “Ollie Bearman, you better have a damn good reason for calling me this early on a Sunday morning.” There was a pause, “It’s eleven o’clock?-” “That’s not the point!” You sighed, “What do you need?” “Well, you see… I have a question.” “Go ahead,” “So I was making french toast right? And I followed the recipe exactly as you wrote it out! Right amount of eggs, milk and sugar.” “So what’s the issue?” Ollie sighed, “It won’t cook but it smells a bit smokey…” You pinched the bridge of your nose, “Then turn it down?” “I don’t know how!” “Turn the hob dial down dummy!” Ollie went silent for a second, “Did you say hob dial?” Alarm bells started ringing in your head, “Why would I adjust the hob when I’m using the toaster.” You froze for a moment before pulling your phone away from your ear and putting it on speaker, unable to believe what you were hearing, “I’m sorry, what did you just say?” Charles gave you a concerned look, sitting even closer to you and wrapping one arm around you while the other rubbed your knee comfortingly 

“I said, I’m using the toaster.” You stared at your phone, mouth slightly agape, “You’re making french toast in the toaster?” “Correct.” Charles snorted and choked back a huge guffaw of laughter as the hand he’d placed on your knee came up to cover his mouth, his face turning pink with how hard he was laughing, “Ollie! French toast isn’t made in the toaster!” “It’s called french toast!” You pressed the video button and changed the call to facetime. Your brother stared back at you, looking rather dishevelled, “That’s a rather deceiving name if you ask me!” You groaned, facepalming, “You make it in a frying pan” Charles was no help next to you as he wheezed silently, grabbing his own phone to record the conversation for later use and hilarity. “Well how was I supposed to know that?!” Ollie was indignant as he pleaded with you through the screen, “OLLIE! You’ve watched me make it hundreds of times!” He pouted through the screen letting out a little ‘hmmph’ “Well if you hadn’t abandoned me, we wouldn’t have this issue would we!” You rolled your eyes, “For the last time, I did not abandon you! I live a 10 minute walk away!” 

You sighed before laughing at your brother lovingly, “Alright then silly, head over for lunch and I’ll show you how to make french toast the proper way.” Charles snorted once more and you both burst into giggles as your brother scowled at you, “Stop laughing at me!” Ollie whined, you caught your breath and wiped your eyes, heart warm at the silly moment you knew would turn into a fond memory, “Uhhhh Y/N?” You looked back at the screen to where Ollie was turning the camera round to show you a sparking, smoking toaster, “I don’t think it should be doing that…” You cursed as Charles scrambled out of bed, pulling mismatching socks on as you grabbed a hoodie, “Change of plans Ols, we’re on our way!” 

♯ incident 3 - Gerald ⊹.∿ Things were peaceful for a couple of days after the french toast debacle - something you were more than thankful for, wrapped up in your perfect little bubble with Charles. Of course you continued to text Ollie, but there had been no major crisis that required your immediate attention. Until there was. 

It had been one of those long lazy days spent at home, until Charles had announced he was taking you to dinner and told you to get all dressed up. You’d slipped on one of his favourite numbers and he’d shown his appreciation more than once, sliding his hands round your hips and squeezing while you waited to be seated, pulling your chair out for you to sit down and sliding his hands down your arms once you were seated, moving his chair round the table to sit closer to you so he could place a slow smooch against your neck. You hummed happily as he fed you a mouthful of his dish, “I knew you’d like it!” You smiled at him, “I like most things you suggest…” He bit his lip as his eyes darkened slightly, “Is that so?” You nodded, eyelashes fluttering as your lids close, “What if I suggested something a little… more intimate?” You giggled, picking up your wine glass to take a sip and hide your face, too shy to keep the eye contact, “I wouldn’t mi-” Your phone blaring cut you off and you gasped, rushing to put your glass down as other customers in the restaurant glared at you, Charles chuckling quietly next to you, his hand resting on your thigh and rubbing soothingly. 

“Ollie I swear to go-” “He’s dead.” You heard your little brother sniffle and adrenaline kicked in, “Ollie, who’s dead?” You kept your voice as calm and quiet as possible, you heard him sniffle once more before a sob left his mouth. That was all you needed to hear before you were grabbing your clutch and nodding towards the door. Charles tilted his head and you mouthed your brother’s name. He nodded understandingly and rushed to pay the bill before you were both scurrying back to his car. As soon as you were buckled in you put your phone on speaker, “Ollie… Honey… what happened?” Charles also looked panicked as he heard Ollie’s choked sob, “He was fine and then he just… wasn’t.” “Who Ollie, who’s not fine?” You pleaded, “Ge-” You cursed as the call cut out, “It’s okay ma belle, his phone probably just died, we’re almost there okay?” You nodded, hands nervously twisting and wringing together in your lap. Charles eyes darted to your hands for a second before looking back at the road, one hand leaving the steering wheel to gently hold your hand in his. You looked at him and squeezed, a wordless thank you. 

As soon as Charles pulled up, you were racing out of the car, slipping your heels off and carrying them in your hand as you sprinted barefoot up the stairs of the apartment building. You reached the door and rang the bell, knocked, called his name, anything you could think of to attract his attention. The door opened slowly and it wasn’t Ollie that appeared but Arthuer Leclerc, looking ever so sombre, “Arthur?” Your eyes were panicked as you looked him over for any injuries or obvious isses. He simply held his hand out to indicate to you to enter and you slowly stepped through the door, “Where’s Ollie?” Arthur nodded, head down towards the ground and the panic rose in your chest again, “He’s in the living room, saying his goodbyes.” “Goodbyes to who?” You paced down the hallway and burst into the living room, your jaw dropping at the sight you saw.

Ollie stood in front of the coffee table that was lit with candles, dressed in a suit and your brain suddenly registered that Arthur had been dressed the same way. You were even more concerned when you saw Arthur’s girlfriend fully dressed in black,  standing next to Ollie with a comforting hand on his shoulder. You approached him slowly, arms opening and your expression softening as he turned to you with a red splotchy nose and red-rimmed eyes, he fell into your arms and you patted his back, gently shushing him, “What happened, Ols?” “He’s gone.” Ollie croaked out, “Who’s gone honey?” Your voice was gentle as you stroked his hair, the same way you did when he was younger and couldn’t sleep, “Gerald.” “Oh.” You said softly, “Was he a friend?” Ollie nodded and you held back a wince as he rubbed his snotty nose onto your shoulder, knowing he needed you, “He was such a good friend.” You led him over to the couch and sat down, his head falling onto your shoulder as you continued to play with his hair. 

You were aware of Charles appearing in the doorway and you gave him a brief smile, before turning your attention back to Ollie, “Would I know this friend?” Ollie nodded, his sobs quieting to sniffles, “You were his friend before I was.” Your stomach dropped as you frantically thought of who Ollie could possibly be referring to, feeling guilty that your mind was blank, “The funeral was lovely.” Arthur’s girlfriend nodded solemnly, a hand over her heart as the other hand came up to dab her eyes with a tissue, “The funeral has already happened?” You were confused as Arthur nodded, “Just before you got here.” Your eyes shot to Charles who was just as concerned and confused as you, “Wait, the funeral was here?” Ollie scoffed, “Well where else would it have been?” “Wait Ollie,” You held his face in front of yours, “Why was the funeral in your apartment?” “He wanted to be remembered in the place he was most happy…” Ollie sighed wistfully, his head turning to look at the coffee table once more. 

You squinted, focusing on a shape amidst the flickering candles and once more your mouth gaped as you stood up and stormed over to the other side of the room. “Ollie. Bearman.” You gritted your teeth, “Don’t tell me that this was all about a fucking cactus?” “Succulent!” Ollie snapped at you, wiping away a tear from under his eye, “He was a succulent,” He whispered as he looked down at the floor. Charles broke first, snorting in the doorway and you watched as he did his best to choke down his laughter, coughing and shaking his head, you watched as he excused himself from the room for a moment to force a solemn expression back onto his face. He returned but you could see the laughter threatening to bubble over as he took in the sight before him. Ollie, his younger brother and his younger brother’s girlfriend all dressed in black and in mourning for a succulent that sat sadly on the coffee table and looked like it had been watered a little too much.

“I’m glad you got here,” Arthur spoke up suddenly, “Oh goodie, do tell me why.” Your tone was sarcastic. “We’re about to do the funeral exit.” Charles was holding in his laughter so much that he now had tears streaming down his face and Arthur patted his back with a ‘there, there’ and handed him a tissue. “Arthur’s girlfriend has agreed to sing the exit song and we’re so thankful she has.” “Who is we Ollie?” You brow furrowed as you looked around the living room,  “I-I…” You sighed. “Go ahead.” You all stood still, heads to the floor as Arthur’s girlfriend launched into a rendition of ‘Memory’ from Cats, “Miiiiiiidniiiiiight, not a sound from the paaaaavemeeeent.” Charles quietly crossed the room to stand next to you, nudging you gently with his shoulder, “Interesting date night hmm?” You growled, “Don’t you dare encourage him.” Ollie approached you,  “Do you want to say your final goodbyes?” “Ollie, why would I care about a succulent?” He gasped, “It’s Gerald!” “Yes Ollie so you said, but why would I care that it’s name is Gerald?” Ollie shook his head, “Don’t even recognise your own friend…” Arthur tutted and even his girlfriend gave you a disapproving look as she continued wailing in the background, you mentally made a note to apologise to the neighbours the next time you were here during normal sociable hours. 

You rolled your eyes at your younger brother and stepped forward to ‘pay your respects’ to the succulent. Your eyes narrowed, “Oliver. James. Bearman. That’s MY fucking succulent!” “It was nice of you to wear black.” He continued, nodding towards your dress and Charles blazer and pants, ignoring your exclamation. “We were on a date!” You screeched, Charles once again powerless to help in any way, instead just collapsing with laughter. You growled as you lunged for your brother, “Ollie, I swear there will be a funeral tonight.” You hissed, “Yours!”

♯ incident 4 - spiderman ⊹.∿ After everyone had said their goodbyes to Gerald, he had been unceremoniously dumped into the rubbish bin and that had been the end of it. Ollie had promised to buy you a new succulent and had learned that they did not, in fact, require watering every day, and you now forever had ‘Memory’ stuck in your head. Once more, peace had been restored but you doubted it would last much longer. 

Your theory was proved correct when a few days later, your phone rang. An unknown number. You ignored it at first, all too aware of strange reporters and crazy fans who would do anything to get closer to Charles. You simply went back to reading your book, until your phone rang again. It was an unknown number still and you grumbled, rolling your eyes and answering quite snappily, “Yes? Hello?” The voice on the other end of the line seemed almost taken aback, “Umm excuse me is this Y/N Bearman?” You sighed, “Yes it is, no I won’t give you a quote and yes Charles is great in bed, goodbye!-” “No wait please! I’m from downstairs! You live in 10B yes?” You stopped as your finger hovered over the end call button and brought the phone back up to your ear, “Uhhhh I used to, yes, can I ask why?” “Oh, well there’s a man trying to climb onto your balcony and I was concerned that’s all.” Your stomach flipped, your mind rushing to thoughts of someone breaking in when your little brother was home alone, “I’ll come over now! My younger brother still lives there.” You raced to grab your keys and jumped into your car, deciding to get there as soon as possible rather than walk. Who was stupid enough to break in in broad daylight? You briefly considered calling the police but you were sure the idiot would be gone by the time you got there. Your car pulled up and you craned your neck to look up at the balcony of your old apartment. Your eyes widened and you gasped as you spotted that there was indeed a man hanging off of your balcony, “Holy shit,” You mumbled, scrabbling to open the door and race towards the apartment complex. The closer you got you squinted as you realised the hoodie looked ever so familiar. “Ollie?!” You yelled up and shrieked as your brother looked down at you, giggling nervously as his feet kicked back and forth as he desperately searched for a footing, “What the fuck are you doing?” “Uhhh I can explain!” He yelled back to you, “H-hold on, I’m on my way up!” You hurried up the stairs, once more cursing the lack of elevator as you finally reached your floor, unlocking the door and rushing through the apartment to french doors out onto the balcony. 

“What the fuck were you thinking?” You screeched, leaning over the balcony and diving to grab him and pull him up, “Ollie that’s so fucking dangerous!” “Look!” You heard a kid shout from the street below, “It’s Spiderman!” You scoffed and rolled your eyes, "He wishes!" You paused for a moment to yell back, before resuming hauling your brother over the apartment balcony. “How did you even get up here? Why are you up here?” Ollie chuckled, panting slightly as he finally threw one leg over the ledge, “Funny story actually…” You raised an eyebrow, “Well please share,” “I forgot my key…” “I-” In your shock you almost let go of him and his scream attracted the attention of yet more passers by below, laughing and pointing at the odd sight they were witnessing. You smiled down awkwardly before turning back to Ollie once more, “Why didn’t you call me?” Ollie whined as you began to tell him off, “Because I didn’t want you to find out…” “Oh so this was a better idea- Ah!” You squeaked as Ollie tumbled over the ledge and onto the balcony. Landing on your stomach in a tangle of limbs, “Your foot is up my butt!” “Yeah well it wouldn’t be if you hadn’t been being stupid! Anyway, get your elbow out of my eye!” “Oh I’m sorry, I was making sure I wasn’t about to fall to my death!” You shoved Ollie off of you and led there on your back, panting, Ollie much the same,

“For the record, you are the shittiest spiderman there is.” “Thanks, that’s really boosting my confidence.” “Glad I could help.” 

♯ the resolution ⊹.∿ “We need more protection.” You announced loudly, stepping into the kitchen “Excuse me?!” Charles choked on his protein shake, cheeks turning pink and you heard Max snort on the phone, “God, no! You pervs… I meant like, we need protection from Ollie and his dumbass incidents.” Max cackled, “Charles has sent me the videos, I was dying at the dishwasher incident.” You groaned, crossing the room to stand next to Charles who sat at the breakfast bar. He grinned as you rolled your eyes at Max who you could now see was on facetime.  “Yeah, well I’m turning grey way sooner than I should!” You joked. You chatted with Max a little longer before Charles signed off with the promise of joining him to game later. 

You sighed, leaning against Charles’ side,  “What’s wrong ma belle?” You took another breath and paused, “I’m just… worried about Ollie…” Charles put his arm around you and rubbed your back soothingly, “What has you so worried mon amour?” His expression was warm and you knew he wasn’t angry with you, rather genuinely curious, “I just feel like… maybe he isn’t ready to live on his own yet?” Charles nodded at you and you took that as a signal to continue, “I mean, he’s always had me there to help him and I know someday he’s gonna have to get used to me not being there but I just feel like right now…” You trailed off with a sigh, “He still needs you.” Charles finished and you gave him a grateful smile and nodded. “But, I don’t wanna leave you. I love living with you and having you around and I love just... living life with you. Am I selfish for not wanting to give that up?” You bit your lip, moving away from Charles to pace the kitchen floor. Charles shook his head with a fond smile, 

“Ma belle… You’re not selfish for wanting to do something for yourself and I’m proud of you for wanting to pursue that, especially since it’s me you want,” he slid his arms around you as you stepped next to him and dragged you backwards to him, making you giggle, “but I also know that you want to be there for family and I can understand that, you guys are close, the same way that me and Thur are, probably even closer.” You hummed, leaning back against him, “Thank you for being so understanding.” You sighed, “Now I just need to work out how to fix it…” Charles smiled and turned you round in his arms, nudging your nose with his, “Well… we have a spare room?” 

Which is how you found yourself hauling boxes upstairs a week later, “Jesus Ollie, what the hell is in here?” You wheezed out and Ollie simply smiled at you, patting you on the head as he walked past you, arms empty, “You’re so dramatic Y/N, it’s literally just a few bits.” You poked your tongue out at him as he mimicked your words from just a couple of months ago. “Is that it mate?” Charles head appeared from behind the apartment door and Ollie nodded, as you finally conquered the stairs and planted the box down on the hallway floor. “Now let’s go over the rules one more time Ols.” He sighed, “Fine…” “Rule one?” You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow, “No dish soap in the dishwasher…” He grumbled, Charles chuckled, “Rule two?” “No cooking without supervision.” Ollie recited as you nodded, “Don’t worry, that rule applies to Charles too.” “Huh?!” “Shush baby, rule three?” You turned back to Ollie, “No watering the succulents unless instructed, no matter how sorry I feel for them.” You nodded, “I am not having a repeat of Gerald and the… funeral.” You shuddered, as Charles snorted before asking, “Rule four?” “Always call one of you two if I forget my keys…” “And?” You raised an eyebrow, “No climbing balconies under any circumstances.”  You clapped your hands together and smiled, “Good! Well I can’t think of anything else, can you?”

You turned to Charles who shook his head and Ollie who just shrugged, “In that case, let’s go! Pizza for dinner sound good?” The three of you walked into the apartment and the door to the hallway swung shut, your arguments about pizza toppings muffled through the door, but the happiness and love you felt for each other not dulled in the slightest.

[millimeraki]

A Writer & A Painter | Verso Dessendre

(Part 2 - If you haven’t yet, go read part 1 for getting the full picture)

[Real Verso / Fem!Reader]

Part 1 ◂ Part 2 ▸ Part 3

Word Count: ~ 7k Rating: E (contains smut) Author's Note: I was overwhelmed with all the love coming my way after part 1 🥹 Didn’t expect that honestly! So yay, have part 2. I hope I can live up to expectations. I have all these headcanons about the Writer’s powers, but also, there is smut cause Verso’s face needs to be between those legs. So I really tried to keep it balanced. Reader ist now Fem, I was able to keep it Gen in the first part, but for this, well… There will be one more part! 

You opened your eyes with a yelp.

You had manifested stories you had written yourself before. You had even stepped into stories written by others. Your closest friends, who wanted to share them with you, to invite you into their worlds and show you what the perfect construct of thought meant to them. So you’d thought yourself used to experiencing these subjectively unparalleled stagings, and then finding yourself back where you had entered the manuscript, the first page in front of you, without the urge to to dive right back in.

But you hadn’t been prepared for how much more powerful the experience would be when it involved a real person written between those pages. Especially not in the way you had crafted the encounter, a short but intense scene meant to convince you to never return to the Dessendre manor, to burn the paper and leave for the countryside with Soleil the next morning, letting time bury both the matter and your feelings.

Instead, the written words had devoured you whole, so much so that you’d momentarily lost touch with what was fiction and what was real. The written Verso had entered your bedroom, carrying the hungry look you had given him, had grabbed you tightly, loved you roughly.

Somewhere in the maelstrom of emotion and sensation, you’d started to accept it as a new truth. You’d felt the exact moment hit, so revealing, it had allowed you to take back control. Your story had, for a short while, refused to be seen as just that, and you’d had to pull yourself together, had to remember that you had deliberately not described how you actually perceived Verso, so this false version of him would be the last thing you experienced with him.

Your plan hadn’t quite worked out. You now understood why the council members argued so fiercely over the ethics of it all. With just this one manifestation, you had almost lost yourself in what you had shared with a real person in there. Worse yet, it consumed you even now, knowing that you could write what you truly thought of Verso, and how he would treat you in this room, with reverence and abandon instead of roughness and possession. You wanted to experience it. Your plan had failed, you wanted more. You never should have tried, because now you knew what it could feel like.

You pressed your hand on your throat to feel your racing pulse, to ground yourself in reality and get your breath under control. How long had you spent between the pages? It had taken you quite some time to write it in the first place. It had to be the middle of the night by now. The breeze from your open balcony door dried the sweat on your forehead.

You moved to get up and close it when suddenly a small projectile sailed through, and you had to dodge it with another yelp. It landed on your duvet. Soleil, back on the bed after you had been sitting quietly in front of your desk for long enough, immediately perked up and leapt playfully after the tiny thing.

“Soleil, don't!” you implored her, alarmed.

You rushed over to see what had just come flying through your window and was now pinned under Soleil’s paws. The little cat meowed in protest as you removed her from her prey. What came into view was just a pebble. Confused, you picked it up, turned the tiny stone between your fingers, inspecting it under the faint glow of your bedside lamp. It really was just that.

At that moment, another one hit the back of your head. “Ouch! What the…” Cautiously, you made your way to the balcony door, stepping outside to peer down at the street in search of the source of the attack.

“Oh, merde…” you muttered, then raised your voice in a sharp whisper, “What are you doing here?!”

Verso stood below, near the entrance of your house, already mid-motion to throw the next little stone through your open window. He paused when he saw you, lowering his arm. The silence of the night stretched out between you. His face was barely lit by a distant streetlamp, his features half hidden in shadow. Shifting restlessly, he glanced down at the uneven cobblestones beneath his feet, then just threw his arms into the air.

“I couldn’t just let you walk away,” he said, dragging a hand across his face.

“You did,” you replied, still trying to tame the storm inside you, the wind at your back pushing you toward him.

“And then came to find you.”

“Well, that’s just creepy.” You rolled your eyes. “How did you even find my house?”

Verso gestured around vaguely. “I asked the neighbors.”

You raised an eyebrow. “But it’s the middle of the night.”

“I might’ve asked a few more people.”

Your expression softened. He’d searched for you until the moon stood high in the sky. Had asked more people than he could count, only to end up at your doorstep, too afraid to knock, scared you wouldn’t open the door.

“Verso, you can’t…” you began, and even just starting the sentence made the barely patched-up wound in your heart split open again.

“Let’s just talk,” he pleaded, his raised voice echoing into the night.

You winced. “Please don’t be so loud.” This wasn’t his part of town. Writers lived here. Who knew who he’d asked. Chances were the council would be informed by morning that Verso Dessendre had come asking about your address. Some people had likely refused to tell him anything, surprised he was asking about you at all. Some kind soul, probably the old lady from down the street, must’ve been swayed by his handsome, longing face.

“I don’t care who sees or hears me,” he shot back, a little louder this time. “And I won’t leave until we’ve talked.”

“Putain, Verso,” you complained in frustration before pushing away from your balcony railing without another word. You absolutely believed he would wake the neighbors and put himself in danger just to make his point.

You hurried down your narrow hallway staircase, past the turnoff to your living room and into the equally small entrance of your home, yanking the door open. He had already positioned himself in front of it, so you grabbed him by the collar to pull him inside quickly, and hopefully unnoticed.

“Alright, listen,” you tried to be the voice of reason, “you can’t do that. You can’t be searching for me in this part of the city. You know how dangerous that is for you. And we can’t…” The words caught in your throat. You’d managed to say them with conviction once, but a second time? Not when he looked at you like that. With that soft, dreamy look in his eyes, that gentle smile on his lips.

“You think this is funny?” you asked, folding your arms, his tender gaze tightening around your heart like a vice.

“I don’t,” he murmured, lifting a hand to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. You inhaled sharply. “It’s just that –” he watched his fingers trace softly along your cheek, tucking the hair behind your ear as you held your breath, “I don’t care how dangerous it is. I told you, I don’t care. The time I spend with you, it’s…” He inhaled shakily. “It’s the first time I feel like I can actually be me. You know me. I never thought anyone would. I’d go through hell to be with you.”

Your resolve faltered. This was the man you’d write poetry about. The one you were too afraid to experience, because you feared he would consume you, that you’d never want to leave his arms again.

“You have to go,” you snapped yourself out of the trance he was pulling you into. Waving your hands, you forced his touch away, then pushed past him head over heels, fleeing upwards, nearly tripping on the stairs, darting past Soleil, who was trotting toward Verso with her tail raised.

“You little traitor!” You exclaimed, pointing accusingly at your fluffy cat, now contentedly hanging in Verso’s arms at the base of the staircase. “Leave, Verso – but don’t take my cat.” That made Verso smile, not your intention, but he was breaking down your barricades, one by one, and you wouldn’t be able to resist him much longer.

You heard him follow you up the stairs, his pursuit only fueling the excitement and confusion bubbling inside you, conflicting feelings tearing you apart. Your door never reached the lock; it was stopped by Verso’s hand. Standing in your bedroom, you turned to face him. Soleil had disappeared from his arms.

“We don’t really know each other, Verso. Look,” you pointed to your desk, where the papers now lay scattered, no longer in the neat order you’d once arranged them in, disheveled by all the chaos of the last hours. You reached into the mess, pulled out a single page and held it up to his face before turning back toward the window, your voice building into a blind, frustrated tirade. “I am a Writer. You don’t know anything about me. You are a Painter. I don’t know anything about you.”

What you did know about the craft of Painters came from secondary sources, admittedly, but it was enough to understand how utterly opposite the two of you were. Writers, those who scripted things into perfection and manifestation. The more advanced ones could absorb words to invoke states. And Painters, those who created imperfect, sentient worlds with free thought, essentially playing God. Within your circle, there was always consensus that the powers of Painters were unnatural, an abomination, and that their works should not be traded for such absurd amounts of money. What might they say in his circle about the Writers?

You scoffed and turned back toward Verso, ready to repeat that you didn’t know each other, even though you knew exactly what he meant. But you were forced to stop in your tracks. Verso was holding the page you had just shoved at him, reading it with rapt, almost haunted attention. Your heart dropped to your stomach. You glanced back at the stack of papers from which you’d pulled it. Your hand shot to your mouth the moment it opened in shock. Eyes wide, you froze, caught in a moment of horror you couldn’t yet escape.

“Well, maybe we really don’t know each other, because that is not how I would…” He trailed off, a startled snort escaping him as he reached the end of the page. He flipped it over to check the back, then lifted his eyes, clearly surprised, to look at you.

The instinct to explain yourself hit you instantly. You couldn’t possibly let him believe you really saw him the way you’d described him on that page. You snatched the paper from his hands. “That was clearly not meant for your eyes. And, I know this is not how you would –” You paused briefly. “How you would do this. In fact –” You inhaled, exhaled, “I should never have done this. It’s highly forbidden where I come from to weave others into your writing. I wrote it like that because I hoped it would help me get over it.”

Verso raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “By describing me like some kind of manhandling caveman?”

“Hey, it is not that primitive,” you defended your prose. You had tried to write it poetically, hadn’t you? Had given him warm, praising words to say. “Besides, if you think it’s that unflattering, then maybe I did the job right.” You placed the sheet back on your desk.

He looked at it again, this time with a stricter, more confused, and troubled gaze. “And what do you do with this, exactly? Did you plan on using it on me? So I’d take you like that, and then you could definitely not look me in the eye after?"

You blinked, baffled by the implication. What did he mean by that? “N-No. It’s –” He didn't seem to know much about the power of the Writers. Or maybe he only knew about the most powerful ones. “It’s not like that. I wouldn’t even know if it’s possible to affect someone like that, let alone with normal ink. I just… lived through it.”

Verso’s tense, angry features softened a little, though his arms remained crossed. “Lived through it? Like, you entered it?”

You nodded.

Now his posture eased as well. “I see. I can see why you think it to be forbidden.” A small smile tugged at his lips. “I feel a little violated.”

“I’m so sorry.” You scrambled to gather all the pages on your desk, shoving them into a drawer to get them out of his sight, so he wouldn’t have to bear the shame of seeing them. “I shouldn’t have done that. It was deeply wrong. It stripped you of your agency. It was dangerous. And it didn’t even help.”

All those warnings your family had drilled into you had been right. You had violated Verso’s deepest privacy, to him, off all people, you should have shown more respect. And your shame over it didn’t exactly help you push back against his presence. It gnawed at you, eroded your defenses from within.

“It’s okay,” Verso tried to ease your guilt. “I get it. It’s the desire to experience something you don’t believe you can ever truly have.” He moved toward you with a smooth motion, his fingers trailing lightly along the edge of your bed frame. Nervously, you watched his approach. If he didn’t leave now, if he so much as uttered another declaration of affection, you wouldn’t be able to resist him any longer.

“So what you’re really saying is, you didn’t like it? What you wrote?” His eyes sparkled with the slightest hint of mischief as his gaze shifted from the bed to you.

Your heart, which had only just begun to settle, picked up its pace again. You cursed yourself for having accidentally handed him that sheet of paper. “I really thought I would… just get over you with this,” you said, your eyes drifting to a small uneven spot in the wallpaper opposite you, desperate not to meet his inquisitive gaze. “That I could create a moment that was enough without being real. I should have known better. So, no, I didn’t like it. Quite the opposite…”

“You asked yourself what the real thing would be like,” Verso said, reading your innermost thoughts with eerie precision.

You saw him come closer out of the corner of your eye, so close you were forced to look at him if you wanted any hope of stopping what you both actually wanted. The hardwood floor creaked under the weight of his meaningful steps. It fell silent when he finally stood in front of you. You looked up at him as his hands gently found your upper arms, the touch so innocent, yet it made your nerves spike up uncontrollably.

“Verso…” Your voice faltered, barely a whisper, and you knew you’d been lost the entire time, your restistance merely a self-prompted spectacle.

His soft, sincere smile only began to quench the thirst you had for him.

His careful touch sent a shiver down your spine as it hovered just above the fabric of your loosely buttoned, dark cotton shirt, gliding upward until his fingertips met the heated skin of your neck. All the while, his eyes followed. He took the edge of your collar between his fingers and moved it just far enough to expose your collarbone. Breathing became harder, and you knew he noticed.

“I think we know each other just fine,” he said, “in spirit.” He closed the remaining space between you, his chest pressed softly against yours. One hand slipped to the nape of your neck, his fingers tracing the edge of your hairline. “I know that you are so idealistic you’d hurt yourself trying to be perfect. And you know that I am very much imperfect.”

Your eyes met. Whatever fire had existed between you had never burned out, only smoldered. You shook your head gently. “Not to me.”

He smiled, visibly touched. “And that’s why you know me. You embraced the man behind the mask without even knowing I wore one.”

No longer able to hold back, you brought your hands to his chin, the roughness of his beard familiar now from the first time, just hours ago, when you had touched him. He exhaled and closed his eyes for a second. You rose to your toes, leaning toward him, your lips already impossibly close to his.

“What does that mean?” you whispered.

His forehead met yours. “Doesn’t matter. All I know is, you know me. And I want to be with you, in spirit… and in body. I want to make love to you in the truest way I can. Bare myself to you completely, if you’ll have me.”

Your breaths mingled as you smiled. “And here I thought I was the Writer.”

The crooked, adorable grin you’d come to know appeared even through your blurred vision. “Can I kiss you already?”

A flicker of trepidation returned to your burning nerves. “I am afraid,” you admitted, still grounding yourself in the gruff of his beard.  

“I know.” He ran his fingers through your hair, looking down at you with quiet reassurance. “We don’t have to tell anyone just yet. Not until we have a plan, or maybe even several. Making you uncomfortable is the last thing I want. We’ll take it slow. Would that be alright?”

No answer came from your lips, your lips were the answer. You leaned forward, just a bit too fast, to reunite with him. No matter how selfish, no matter how wrong, you couldn’t fight the pull of him. He pulled, and you pushed too deep, falling right back into him.

The way he kissed you now was passionate, but so much more reverent than the false version of Verso you had written. His lips were softer, his touch more intentional. Once more, your fingers moved through his midnight-black curls, smooth against your skin, opening your body to him, and he let himself in.

Verso wrapped his arms around you, pulling you gently against him, wanting to envelop you, to show you how deeply he cherished you. He didn’t want to possess you, didn’t want to take you, he wanted to love you, in body and in soul.

Without removing his lips from yours, he lifted you effortlessly from the floor, turned with you in his arms, and carried you toward your bed. Like a princess, he gently laid you down in the sheets, your head resting on the delightfully soft pillow, and Verso’s body moved atop yours.

He felt the slight, nearly imperceptible tremble that ran through you, and your racing pulse, as he placed his hand on your neck, brushing his thumb over your chin, only seeking grounding and the thrill of your skin, sending tiny electric jolts through his fingers. He could have stayed like that with you forever, feeling your closeness, sensing you, but then there was that little devil on his shoulder, urging him to slowly and indulgently open the buttons of your shirt.

You came up for air from the ever-growing passion of his lips, only for your breath to hitch as you saw his face above yours. He wore the happiest expression, tenderly loving, as you’d only ever seen it when he played the piano, with that touch of sadness in his beautiful eyes.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, and your heart burst open.

He leaned down, pressed one last, soft kiss to your lips, then let his mouth travel down your chin. Your instinct was to stretch toward him, chasing his warm breath, feeling it at your neck, where he lingered, gently taking your delicate skin between his lips. You exhaled, searching for support in his arms framing you, hidden beneath his shirt, reaching into its expensive fabric.

Your shirt was opened by nimble fingers down to the base of your skirt, but he didn’t stop there, instead pulling the lower ends out of the waistband. The soft fabric slid down your sides. A cold breeze from the still-open window tickled your exposed skin, your upper body now only covered by your cache-corset, the pretty, short top you liked to wear under your shirts even without a corset.

He watched your chest rise and fall with your heavy breath, saw the perfection that was you. Your even skin was like a blank canvas, one on which he would gladly immortalize a piece of his soul. But you were so much more than that. Inside you was already an entire world, your essence a symphony so harmonious that he wanted to hear it forever, and be near it forever.

His soft fingers traced along your waist. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was playing you like his piano. The way he moved them, tickling your skin, sparked a shiver and goosebumps spread across your body. And when his mouth followed to tenderly explore those same spots, your lower abdomen tensed with anticipation. All the more so when he gently traced the hem of your undershirt.

“Is this alright?” he asked, a slight tremble in his voice.

“Yes, yes,” you breathed, arching your back into his hand.

Beneath your undershirt, he felt the smooth curve of your breast with pleasure, and a small sound escaped you as his fingertips brushed over its peak, the sound enough to send a warm tingling through his body, settling in his loins, more demanding than he wished for, prompting him to brush the last bit of fabric from your torso and over your head, then starting to peel off his vest and unbutton his own shirt.

You, now exposed, didn’t feel the slightest bit ashamed, his presence made you feel like you were slipping between the pages of your favorite story. But now, for the first time in a long time, you felt safe in the real world. So you helped him out of his clothes, and they joined yours on the floor.

Before you looked, you reached for him to feel him first. His body was lean, perfectly firm in all the right places, soft black hair spread across his evenly built chest. You ran your fingers through the fuzz, leaned into him, and pressed your lips to the crook of his neck. His own pulse was fast but steady as he pressed his head against yours, gently took your wrist, brought it to his mouth, and kissed your palm.

He wrapped his arms around you to flip you over in one swift motion. A giggle escaped you at the sudden move, just before you ended up straddling him. His back sank into the soft mattress under your weight, his hands immediately returning to your body, the sight of your splendor like a gift.

“You are so, so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice now a whole octave lower with desire for you. 

“You already said that,” you breathed out with amusement, bent down and laid yourself on top of him, your heated bodies rubbing against each other, fueling your own desire to feel everything of him. So you began fumbling with the fastening of his trousers while your lips pressed against each other, your balance in jeopardy.

He hummed. “And I would say it again,” he whispered a kiss on your lips, “and again,” on the tip of your nose, “and again, praying it like the most devoted believer out there.” He reached between you too, untied the ribbon at the back of your flared skirt and then, almost too skillfully, unfastened the clasp. “You are the most beautiful woman I ever got the honor to look upon.”

Your bottoms joined the rest of your clothes on the floor. And so you did what he proposed. You bared yourselves to each other, body and soul, and his sight was glorious. You sat up on him, his hands persistent, never retreating, on you. You drank each other in, your eyes roaming over your bodies.

Behind his loving, wholly devoted gaze now hid more than just longing, you saw the hunger in his eyes begin to show itself, the slightly firmer grip of his hands, his parted lips searching for more air.

He straightened up, shifting your weight so he could capture your mouth in a kiss so passionate it robbed you of your senses, your focus entirely on him and the heat between you, his arousal only a few inches away, aligned for you to just lower yourself onto him, to fill yourself with him.

“Are you sure?” he asked, breathless, though he didn’t know what he would of done if you said no. “I wouldn’t want to –”

You placed your index finger on his mouth to silence him. “I want you, Verso,” you told him, feeling vulnerable as you admitted, “I want you so much that I’m afraid I won’t be able to live without you.”

With those words, you allowed him to find your entrance, and slowly, then with more pressure, you sank down onto him, savoring every inch you took in, your slick walls making it all too easy. You both let out a shaky breath as he bottomed out inside you, your breaths mingling so sensually that your muscles immediately clenched around him and instinctively, you grabbed onto his shoulder, your hips rolling forward, drawing a sigh from you.

“Oh mon dieu,” he gurgled against your neck, rocking you on his cock, coaxing the next sigh from your lips that nearly drove him insane, “wait, wait.” He stopped you with a hand on your hip.

You looked at him, confused, the pull in your core too strong, you needed the release, the friction, wanted to ride him and let him hit that spot inside you that would send you into bliss. “Are you alright? Did I hurt you?” you asked uncertainly.

His brief confusion vanished in a split second, replaced by that charming, slightly crooked grin and an amused sound. “Are you kidding me? You feel divine. No, I –” one of his hands snaked down your body, over your stomach, between you, while the other remained on your hip, “I want to give you more than that. So much more. Please, let me make you feel good. Let me revel in you.”

You couldn’t resist the request, and you wouldn’t have wanted to, especially not in the moment his confident, gentle fingers found their mark. You gasped, arched toward him, clung to him as he began to rub you with steady, deliberate circles that sent waves of sensation through you. With closed eyes, you focused solely on the feelings he stirred in you, he seemed to know exactly how much pressure and speed would bring you joy. Soon, you had to part your lips for breath, soft sounds escaping your throat.

Verso, intent on being a devoted lover, took his time. Your receptive response only deepened his desire. You were in tune with him, arching your back, your thighs trembling progressively harder, especially when he squeezed your hip gently but firmly to move you against him, just a subtle motion, but enough for him to hit that sensitive spot inside you and make you moan, prouding him immensely.

“Is this good?” he asked nonetheless, his voice a low, sensual whisper, ”Just tell me how I can please you, I’ll do anything.”

His teeth grazed the delicate skin of your neck playfully, and a groan escaped him as your walls tightened around his length, making his fingers twitch into your flesh. He felt you throbbing at his fingers, so he kept up the pace just as you seemed to be enjoying it.

“Don't stop”, you breathed, your hips stuttering against his touch, the heat pouring into your core the more he rubbed your clit. You moved instinctively on him, chasing your imminent high. You tensed, legs straining, unable to get enough of him, even knowing the moment wouldn’t last forever.

“You're amazing,” he praised adoringly. “Will you come for me, mon cœur?”

His gravelly voice washed over you like summer heat, making your skin tingle with comfort. You melted into his embrace, sank even deeper into his lap as he met you with his own rhythm, not enough restraint left in him in response to how lost in sensation you were.

Your body gave out as another powerful wave overtook you, licking down your spine. You felt that familiar pull deep inside that signaled your release. You exhaled, your head falling onto his shoulder, your fingers tangling in his hair as you finally let go. “I’m coming.”

It was the most peaceful and sensual climax you’d ever experienced. Verso's steady fingers slowed, becoming a gentle presence, replaced by a soft yet insistent pressure on your hip, encouraging you to move with the wave instead of being overwhelmed by it. It wasn't ecstatic, it was better. Lasting, satisfying, and deeply fulfilling, your spasms didn't go into nowhere, but wrapped around him, feeling him more intensely than you'd ever felt anyone before.

Verso guided you through your continuous twitches, drawing out your orgasm as much as you were able to give, rocking you on him, holding you close as soft sounds of pleasure escaped you – sounds that alone could keep him satisfied for nights to come. If only he could make you feel like this always, swept up in emotion, in what you felt for him and what he did to you. Only when your body slumped against his, entirely spent, did he finally pause to let you rest. A steady, satisfying throb still lingered under his fingers.

You gasped against his heated skin, barely able to speak. Luckily, Verso found the words for you: “There’s nothing like a petite mort, non?” A kiss touched your cheek as he gently rolled with you, never breaking your connection.

You blinked, looking up at him in the dim glow of your lamp. His eyes were ablaze, a wildfire of emotion, contentment, desire, and love. All the feelings that made up a great, tragic love story.

“I’ve never felt anything like this,” you gasped truthfully, your fingers exploring his sides, making him shiver ever so slightly.

He smiled. “I aim to please.” His face lowered to press his lips to yours, and a surprised, overstimulated sound escaped you as he rolled his hips into you, seeming to tease your essence out of you, feeling the air around you, heavy yet comforting, like a weighted blanket pulled over you.

His movements were instinctive; he couldn’t resist you, this soft, welcoming abyss that was you, more tempting than anything else in his life. Everything else, even his problems, faded away. With you, anything felt possible. And that was what fueled his longing to be connected to you, to sink into you again and again.

“Verso –” you gasped, and to him, it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. You saying his name like that.

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice barely more than a breath.

“Yes,” you whispered in return.

His strokes within you were were as deliberate as his earlier touch. Intense, precise, each thrust aimed to finding the spot that made your breath hitch. There was so much sensuality in the way he moved that you would have happily drowned in it. Skin rubbed over skin, so hart did he press himself against you, only to hover over you after, gaining better leverage, and sink himself back into you so purposefully that you saw stars. 

The noices you made, those breathy, sinful notes, and the sound of skin against skin only drove him further, made him lose what little restraint he had left. He didn’t notice how his pace quickened, he only saw you: the expression on your face, the parting of your lips, your closed eyes… “Look at me,” he said, the gentle command surprising you so much that you obeyed without hesitation.

It felt as if he was looking right into your soul. And you couldn’t look away, you didn’t want to. The world around you blurred. You pressed yourself as close to him as possible, your legs firmly anchored to his sides. You reached for his cheek, only for him to take it, place it next to your head and intertwine your fingers, his gaze never leaving yours always looking down at you, always showing you how much he adored you. 

He had planned to take his time with you, to spend the whole night spoiling you, perhaps even coax another petite mort or two from you. But he hadn’t counted on the overwhelming pull your body had on him. He had given in to it, to his shame. And now, he was ploughing into you, completely out of control of his own body, chasing a high that should really be another one for you. He vowed he would make it up to you as the night went on. For now, he focused on your every reaction, trying draw out as much pleasure as he possibly could, ere he would surrender to the temptations of your clenching walls around his cock.

You could feel it, his passionate movements becoming less controlled, more erratic. His rhythm faltered as tension overtook him, his brows furrowed in desperate effort.

“It’s alright,” you whispered, your body moving with his.

His fingers tightened around yours. A strangled sound escaped his throat, a great declaration of love on his tongue that he could barely hold back from escaping, and a delicate shiver washed over his body. “Merde,” he groaned. He let go of your hand, pulling out of you in one fluid motion, leaving your center with a strange emptiness, as if he had simply painted over you, given you a new normal.

Shifting his weight above you, he leaned on one forearm, stroking himself, his eyes fluttering shut, his breath ragged against your skin as his release landed on your stomach. You appreciated his still quick thinking, while your mind was a complete blank, you didn’t even thought about the end of it all.

Verso’s heart was still hammering in his chest, long after the moment had passed. Just the sight of you was enough to keep his pulse running wild. He leaned down to capture your lips, careful not to touch you with the hand he hadn’t yet cleaned.

“Sorry for the mess,” he said with a sheepish grin, glancing down at your glistening skin.

You let out a soft laugh. “That’s fine. Thank you.”

He settled beside you on the mattress, holding his hand in the air as if it were poisonous, while you reached into your nightstand drawer and pulled out two of your linen handkerchiefs. Shortly after, he pulled your blanket over both of you, beckoned you closer to him, and you snuggled into his warm embrace.

“You’re hot,” you murmured, drawing little circles in the hair on his chest, the heat still radiating from him, his skin damp with the faintest sheen of sweat.

“And you’re soft,” he replied quietly, content, placing a kiss on your hair.

There was a rustling at the foot of the bed, then a small meow. Soleil jumped onto the mattress and strutted over the blanket with big, wobbly steps, toward Verso, where she pressed her tiny head against his chin. He grinned as he stroked her little body, and once again, Soleil purred in his presence as if she were in love. 

“Here she comes, making sure I know how to share,” you sighed in amusement, scratching her head. She blinked at you, as if to tell you she still liked you too, even with the attractive man in her bed.

“Don’t tell her, but for me, you still come first,” he murmured into your ear.

“Careful, she can hear you.” You hummed, smiling blissfully. Slowly, though steadily, your dilemma crept back into your awareness. There was no turning back from what you had both committed to now. You still had a chance to keep it secret, but you didn’t want to end it anymore, you couldn’t.

“Verso?”

“Yes?”

“What you said earlier, about knowing how I feel, that I had the desire to experience something I didn’t think I ever could. Why did you say that so quickly? Does it have something to do with you being a Painter?” You continued the thought: “What can you do?”

His fingers gently caressed your upper arm while he seemed to think for a moment. “You mean they didn’t tell you about our powers?”

“They did,” you answered, “but probably just as twisted as whatever they told you. What I know about you is that you create worlds, with real, free thinking beings, and that’s the reason why everything between us is so complicated.”

“Mhm,” he acknowledged, “and what I know about you is that you can influence reality with what you write. They tell us that your kind can impose your will on others, even write over our canvases, if you wanted to. That’s why you threaten our way of life.”

You scoffed. “I’ve never heard of a Writer who did that.”

Verso continued petting Soleil, but his hand paused for a moment. “Is it possible?”

You thought briefly before replying. “I don’t know. Among us, there are people with very different levels of strength. Usually, we just write, and our works aren’t even always meant to be manifested. The more advanced among us can take on and execute conditions, but only on ourselves.” You straightened up and leaned over him. He listened intently. “We simply write something, and then,” you touched the ink-black stubble of his beard with your fingertips, “we take the words into ourselves. They disappear from the page. Whatever we wrote, we inherit for a short time. We don’t create anything, we merely take it on.” You ran your fingers over his chin, then smiled. “I do it with music.”

Soleil let out an indignant meow, she was no longer the center of attention. Verso blinked, surprised. “So you’re writing sheet music and then – absorb it?”

“And then I play it, one time,” you concluded.

“That’s a shame, you write beautiful music.” He played with a lock of your hair. “So you’re an advanced Writer?”

You shrugged. “I have my talents.”

“That you do.” 

You both grinned.

“And then, well, there are the truly powerful among us,” you continued without reservation. He should know what your kind could do, he obviously had a warped idea of your powers. “Maybe they can write over your canvases, but that’s only possible, if at all, with blood.”

“Blood?” he asked, surprised.

You nodded. “Blood is the strongest ink in the world. Especially when it’s your own that you write with. Whoever among us writes a book in blood and manifests it probably won’t come back out of it. If they even make it that far before they bleed out. The less powerful we are, the more blood we have to use.”

“Have you ever tried it?”

“Noooo,” you insisted quickly and at length, “I am not nearly powerful enough, it is so dangerous. Only the most powerful among us write in blood. But they actually can, if you interpret it that way, change reality.” You traced invisible letters on Verso’s chest. “They can, for example, heal wounds. Whether they can really influence your works, I don’t know. I’m not really that educated about blood sacrifices.”

Verso made a thoughtful sound. “I guess on both sides, they tell us stories to turn us against each other.”

“So is it also not true what they tell about you? That you can create worlds like gods?” you asked, curious to learn more about his powers now that you had explained yours.

He pulled a face. “It’s not wrong. But we refrain from using words like that to describe it. We basically do the same as you, describe worlds in the form of art and bring them to life. We can enter our canvases and live inside them for a certain amount of time.”

“And can you really trap people in there, if you wanted?” You suspected that was the piece of information that was spread to scare your kind.

Verso’s eyebrow lifted questioningly, confirming your guess. “We definitely can’t do that.” His gaze softened. “If I could take someone into my painting, I'd love to show you this world.” 

“So you created one of those worlds?” The thought that he had done so made you uneasy. Your whole life you had been taught that Painters broke the laws of nature by creating what shouldn’t exist.

“I only ever painted one canvas,” he replied, raising a finger, “where I left a piece of my soul to give it life. I was a child back then, and it was a family project, really. Clea helped paint it, our parents sometimes came in with us. Only Alicia preferred to spend time in her room.”

“A piece of your soul? What does that mean?”

“Exactly what I think you think it means. We leave a piece of our soul in the paintings we want to enter.” Verso’s eyes drifted upward to the ceiling. “Powerful Painters like my parents can create many such paintings. Others… not so much.”

“I see.” You let yourself sink down onto his reassuring chest, and he wrapped his arms around you. Parts of what you knew about each other were true, parts were false, the kind of miscommunication that led to class wars like this, likely born from jealousy, envy, and materialism. In the end, it was art that connected your clans, really.

“I would like to see your painting some day… but I would rather listen to you play the piano all the time.”

His chuckle vibrated through his chest. “And that is why I…” he paused.

You pressed yourself closer to him, wrapped your arms around him. “It’s alright,” you whispered, “I love you, too.”

[therobotmonster]

Saw some of your posts about AI recently, but don't really know very much about you. I have two questions:

1. Are you an actual artist, or do you just do genAI?

2. If you are an actual artist, why do you use/support AI?

We're going to get into this in a minute, but yes, by what you'd likely use as a definition of 'actual artist', I am. I have a BFA in graphic design, a minor in art history, I've been working as a freelance artist either on the side or as my main hustle since 2001, and I've been making art since I was five. Multimedia, 3d modelling and sculpting, photography (in a darkroom type and digital), acrylic painting, illustration, writing, puppetsmithing, I'm a jack of many, many trades.

Because it's a potent force multiplier that lets me do things that I could not previous (as well as helping compensate for my increasingly arthritic joints) and because it's entirely keeping with the copyleft principles I've had since the 1990s. It's just plain interesting and fun. And I had my fill of moral panics in the 1980s.

This is gonna be a long one, enjoy a song while you read.

I've gone over all this many times before, (for full reading, here's the #AI Discourse tag on my AI blog) but the short version is that I agree with the Electronic Frontier Foundation's position on AI art.

To demonstrate, we've got some of my non-AI photobash work, and some of my AI-work of the same type. Both were made using many, many public domain images broken down to B&W lines, scaled, reinked, normalized and colored.

On the left, is a comic made with specific panels from comics that have had their copyrights expire (back when that could happen), on the right, a comic made with about 35 individual dall-E 3 gens. The techniques are the same, the only difference is the source of the pubic domain images.

No one debates whether what I've done on the left is art, yet somehow the one on the right is a problem for some people. Yet I have vastly more control over the latter than the former.

And it's hard to get more transformative than 'broke down into math and blended with literally millions of other math formulas in order to make a completely new image" Replace 'math' with 'memory' and you have how all human creativity works.

Moving to covers, one of my parody deepdream-adjusted comics, and a reinked-recolored AI one on the right. The one on the left no one had a single problem with, but Bruce Wayne and Jessica Fletcher are screencaps, the Specter is a sales photo of a statue with a copy of 1989 Ted Dansen's face, and I'm using direct DC trade dress. Crickets.

On the right, no actual images by humans are used (outside the barcode, comics code authority emblem, and the 30 cent mark.) Same techniques, same situation. Very different reaction.

I also was a young artist in the 90s when Disney and the RIAA bribed and lied their way into extending copyright to its current ridiculous 120 year term, and I recognize what's happening with the anti-AI movement.

The exact same fear-mongering was used to get small artists to rally their congressmen against their own self-interest, and that's what the Copyright alliance is doing now.

Copyright does not help the small artist. It's also a relatively new invention, one that would be baffling to humans through most of history. You can't own art. Not even the people who make it. You can own a canvass or a carved rock or a book, but you don't own the art itself because you can't own feelings or ideas.

Copyright is a limited patent on specific expressions intended (supposedly) to encourage production, a limitation on the business use of art. The arguments levied against AI would kill fanfic, fanart, pastiche, collage, and more.

This isn't a bug, it's a feature, because...

The anti-AI side isn't actually anti-AI, they're pro-regulatory-capture-of-AI-by-Megacorporations. The copyright anti-AI argument conveniently leaves it open for Disney, Warner Bros, Nintendo, Sony, the RIAA, all to make their own AI systems to lower their production costs, because they own more than enough material to make powerful datasets.

They get it, you don't, worst of all possible worlds.

Now, at the start I mentioned that we'd get into the "actual artist" situation. All those people making bog standard waifu-pics with AI? They're also making art. Kids using a spirograph make art. Duchamp's fountain is art. And people who make art are artists.

But more than that "if you're an actual artist why do you use AI?" is an interesting question, because if more people actually used the tech and saw how it works, you'd see a lot less people against it. Most of the anti-AI talking points are just factually incorrect or greatly misrepresent the situation, but nobody is gonna learn that if even using it is treated as a transgress worthy of 'fair game' treatment.

Funny how that works out.

To close out, enjoy one of my music videos, made from dozens of clips made using reference images made with dozens of heavily modified gens that I totally could have made the hard way, except for the lack of 5 million dollars and access to Geena Davis and Ron Ely circa 1982:

[shining-kommo-o]

Top 10 of some guys I really like from the Gen 3 Teraleak Spreadsheet

Not in any particular order

1. Hipo

This funny bue hippo i wouldve loved you like a mother loves her child

2. Epolotto

What are you?? Little homunculus, a gift of nature that was too blessed to be given to us

3. Snoun

Frosmoth-to-be i believe?? Or not. I love a snowman either way.

4. Hakogame

A gift turtle? A friend for delibird perhaps? I love this thing, i get the feeling it was a very early torkoal :) what a guy!

5. Eidog

Need i say more? A big funny doggy.

6. Yakkoko, Itoton and Flygon

A different universe Flygon line… Where it didn’t start off as trapinch. It makes more sense evolving this way! That’s crazy…

7. Furicks

I keep thinking about this early breloom that also looks like a chocobo!

8. Aarei

Who is this DIVA???? I miss you. Come back.

9. Eruhawk

Jesus was seen. This mother from old beta art is BACK! And is apparently a pure flying type. Back before they split her into 2 different Pokémon (Blaziken and Latias). Presented in her full glory for all of us to see.

And last but not least…

10. Penpin and Sebooru

GUYS. SPHEAL WAS MEANT TO BE A BOWLING BALL-LIKE SEAL, AND WAS MEANT TO GO ALONG A BOWLING PIN-SHAPED PENGUIN.

I’ve seen NOBODY talk about this.

[anonymous-dee]

My Top 5 Scum Villain Ships

5.CumPlane

There’s just something so silly about them. I love the way they bicker and banter, and you can’t deny the obvious shitpost potential of them both coming from the real world.

I fucking love the memes where they’re speaking in brainrot to each other and all the other peak lords are like 🤨❓

4. MoShang

They make me so mad fr. I stand with SQH as a child of divorce so yk, I can’t be too upset with him. BUT FOR THE LOVE OF GOD THEIR ABANDONMENT TRAUMAS LOVE TO CLASH CONSTANTLY AND IT’S SO DJFJDJF 🍽️ I hate it so much *desperately filling my plate with fics and fan art and headcanons and—*

3. JiuYuan / ScumCum

Another ship w the sillies. One of my favorite dynamics with JiuYuan is Shen Yuan being like “ugh” but then realizing how broken Shen Jiu is and then going “sigh, I can fix him…” and then he DOES fix him and it’s sweet and cute and perfect.

And yk, I think it’s so important for Shen Jiu to experience kindness and gentle touch and actual love, and it’s like YEAH I love the drama of QiJiu and LiuJiu, but with QiJiu it doesn’t hit the same because in order for it to work in a /gen way, Yue Qingyuan has to have his redemption arc and regain Shen Jiu’s broken trust.

I still do ship LiuJiu ans QiJiu, but ScumCum is just more wholesome in my eyes.

With Shen Yuan, there was no original betrayal, he just comes out of the transmigration oven with warm hands and healing vibes. For the most part.

I like that they are both also similar in a hater way too. If you think about it, they’re both 100% capable of going on the BEST RANTS and being a hater and I just KNOW they have the BEST debriefs after seeing the others do questionable things in public. Yk, they give each other the 👀 “are u seeing this shit” look knowing fully well they are both gonna have a 2 hour mutual ted talk about the absolute audacity.

You also gotta love the dynamic of Tsundere (soft) and Tsundere (will kill a bitch). Because on one hand Shen Yuan has to have his gay awakening so he’s in denial for a hot minute. And then you have Shen Jiu who’s ALSO in denial—probably also in the closet bc he has to overcome his mental block of fearing/despising all men before he can become open to the idea of allowing one man.

#not all men #actually yes, all men #just not that one in particular #yeah him, the fucking twink in the back

And then you can easily end up with a dynamic where both of them realize their feelings and it turns into

SJ: god shen yuan is so fucking annoying (wasn’t allowed to kill someone)

NPC: yeah I hate that guy

SJ: what the FUCK did you just fucking say

I love them thanks.

2. BingLiuShen

**CREDIT BOTH OF THESE BEAUTIFUL ART PIECES TO SAIRUSB AND CHECK OUT THEIR PAGE THEIR ART IS AMAZING**

Slot number 2 goes to BingLiuShen. Everyone repeat after me: SHEN QINGQIU HAS TWO HANDS!

I think the most interesting part about any Poly ship is the multitude of dynamics; it’s more than just SQQ x LQG x LBH. It’s also BingQiu. It’s also LiuShen. It’s also…uh, BingLiu(?) for the life of me I cannot remember if that’s their ship name, BUT ANYWAY.

Each of these individual dynamics has its own individual charm that gets explored once you start overlapping them together. You have the base with some delicious seasoning if you will.

Not gonna lie, it was a 100% tag team effort between SairusB and Celardor that initially sold me on BingLiuShen.

I love Luo Binghe being a menace, Shen Qingqiu being ‘:3’, and Liu Qingge being shy and not used to romance at all. Not that any of them really are, but I love how many ways you can play around with this specific concept, which I will elaborate on more in the next part of the post.

(Anyone who knows me, you know who I’m putting in the number 1 slot)

Everyone please read Sharing is Caring / Love in Another Shape by Celardor on ao3 that fic literaly altered by brain chemistry and it’s so fucking good please believe me PLEASE

1. LiuShen

**CREDIT THIS BEAUTIFUL ARTWORK TO VELINXI, THE ARTIST FOR THE ENGLISH VERSION OF SVSSS**

My beloveds. My silly little guys. My pretty scrimblos. My mipys. Ft. the art that got me to See The Vision™️ for the first time.

Love that we get LiuShen art in the official artstyle btw, I will never shut up about it bc Velinxi’s art is so gorgeous and I cherish everything she draws so so so dearly.

LiuShen is so special to me. I’ve talked about it several times before on my blog but I just love their dynamic so much. Somehow despite both being tsunderes (well, idk if I count SQQ as a FULL tsundere, but still) they end up being so soft with one another it’s so fucking wholesome.

As much as I do enjoy BingQiu, I say as it did not make the top 5 list LMFAO I absolutely love how many ways there are to write LiuShen. Given that SQQ is ship silly putty already, it really does provide the opportunity for endless fun.

There are fics where both of them are self aware of how they feel, there are fics where neither of them are. There are fics where one of them realzies they like the other and have no shame about it. And BOTH are equally as entertaining. I love ‘:3 Liu shidi is pretty I wanna touch him’ fics just as much as I love ‘>:( I’m gonna bring Shen Yuan courting gifts and challenge him to a fight to express my devotion’ ones.

And then you have the fics where one of them is oblivious and accidentally ends up married to the other—I’ve seen it go both ways and it’s perfect every time I swear to god.

Props to Celardor AGAIN because I think they perfectly balance the tsundere and soft vibes between the two. The fic “Sharing is Caring” goes beyond just the silly wife plot it starts out as. It deadass goes from “teehee silly wife plot” to “let’s actually explore the dynamic and the world and the plot beyond just this silly adventure”

Celardor said “I think I see potential here” and both parts of the fic series amount to 254,349 words AND COUNTING BC PART 2 ISN’T DONE YET.

Okay this isn’t a fic review this is a SHIP review so setting Celardor’s fic hesitantly aside, it’s sort of hard for me to explain how much they make me happy but I just love the blushy x blushy dynamic so much LET THEM BE SHY AND SOFT TO EACH OTHER AAAAH

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

What is your favorite SVSSS ship?

[loveroffemmes]

jackie taylor and reader are enemies but they play spin the bottle at a party and jackie lands on reader

Where The Bottle Lands | Jackie Taylor x Fem! Reader

warnings: one-shot story with smut at the end, bratty! sub! jackie, edging, enemies to lovers

summary: jackie and the reader always butt heads, especially on the field, so what happens when jackie spins the bottle and it lands on the reader?

mean jackie...bratty jackie...<3

"Stop staring at her, she's going to get the wrong idea." Natalie hums, taking a sip from the red solo cup in her hands.

"The idea is that I hate her. You saw how she treated me at practice! Jackie has never reprimanded anyone on the team before, she's never been the type of captain to do that, but of course I get scolded in front of everyone?!" Jackie was always extra hard on me during practice, but after practice today, she took it way too far. She never acts like that with any other Yellowjacket, she never treats them this shitty!

Natalie laughs, "I'm not a big fan either, but staring at her isn't going to do anything."

"You're right, staring won't do anything."

I set my cup down and Natalie's laughter dies down, "What are you doing?"

"I should confront her!"

Nat's eyes widen, "Yeah, okay, you're wasted." She responds, stepping in front of me, "Do you really think it's a good idea to drunkingly confront your team captain? Especially at a party that she is throwing?"

"Yes!"

"As your friend, I am telling you to cool off." Nat demands, but I shove past her and I can hear her audibly sigh.

My eyes were locked on Jackie, shoving past the random party-goers. Jackie stood there talking to Shauna. God, annoying #1 and annoying #2. I tap on Jackie's shoulder and she turns to face me, clearly confused.

"What is it?" Jackie asks, sighing before I can even get a word out.

"That!"

Jackie's eyebrows knit together, head tilting to the side ever so slightly, "Huh?"

"You...Your sigh!" Everything I say sounds like a mess of words, not coming out as authoritative or as sure as I wanted and it definitely doesn't help that half of them are slurred, "You always do that! Any time I speak, you sigh or refuse to look at me or...or..You reprimand me in front of everyone! Or you refuse to even pass to me!" Everything I wanted to say just falls from my lips before I can even stop it, "You think just because you're pretty you can do whatever you want or say whatever you want, but I am so sick of your shit, Taylor!"

Shauna and Jackie glance at each and then back at me before her cheeks flush red, probably from embarrassment, and then Jackie speaks up, "I wouldn't have to treat you like that if you knew how to kick a ball. It's my job as captain to lead you and any other Yellowjackets, you wouldn't want to be the reason we don't make it to nationals, would you?"

Before I could respond, a drunken voice called out to everyone, "Spin the bottle! Spin the bottle!" Mari chanted.

"Good excuse to get away from this whole mess." Shauna mutters. Shauna and Jackie walk over to Mari and Nat makes her way back to me.

"So..." Nat awkwardly hums, hands digging into her pockets, "That was..."

"Bad, Nat, I know." I groan.

"Do you want to go home?"

"No, it's fine, besides Mari will probably call your phone fifty million times until you agree to play."

Nat and I make our way towards the circle and sit down. It's mostly Yellowjackets and a few random party goers.

"So, who's starting us off?" Mari asks, placing the empty Titos bottle in the middle of the circle.

"I will!" Melissa says, a little too quickly...

She spins the bottle with full force and it spins and spins and spins...

And lands on Gen, who is already a blushing mess.

"Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!" The circle of people childishly chants. Melissa and Gen meet in the middle of the circle, kissing.

"10...9...8..." Mari counts down as the group chants around the kiss.

"There's a countdown to this game?" Nat questions and I shrug.

"3...2...1!" Melissa and Gen break apart, both panting.

"Your turn, Jackie." Melissa says, nudging her side.

Jackie leans forward, grabbing the bottle and spinning it. It spins and spins and spins and it lands on...

Me.

Jackie's mouth falls open and I can't help but mimic her expression, equally shocked.

"This game is stupid!" Jackie whines, "I'm not playing."

"Brat." I mutter under my breath and Jackie shoots me a glare, her cheeks somewhat red -- probably out of breath from running her mouth constantly.

"Anddddd, that's time!" Mari announces and I turn to look at her, confused, "If you guys don't kiss within ten seconds of the bottle landing, then you have to French kiss for ten seconds!"

"What are you talking about, Mari?!" I shout, not being able to control the level of my voice. There is no way in hell I am kissing Jackie, with or without tongue.

"It's the rulesss!" Mari replies, laughing.

"Just kiss!" Lottie jumps in, "Melissa and Gen did it."

I sigh, "Let's get this over with, Taylor."

"Stop calling me Taylor!" Jackie angrily muttered, turning away from Mari to face me.

Jackie and I move towards the middle of the circle and the chanting begins again, "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"

I glance down at Jackie's lips. Her stupid lip gloss made her lips shine and the way her teeth sank into her bottom lip when she got nervous...it almost made me forget how much I hated her.

"Are you going to keep staring or are you going to kiss me?" Jackie whispers.

I roll my eyes and lean in, my hand moving to grab her chin and bring her lips to mine. I hope she can't hear how fast my heart is beating. I hope she can't feel how much my hands are shaking. I hope she can't tell how much I want this.

How much I want this?

Jackie's lips brush against mine, they are unbelievably soft, so soft that it made my heart ache. My other hand moved to her thigh, resting there.

"Pick it up!" Someone in the circle called out.

I could feel Jackie smirk against my lips, her tongue brushing my bottom lip and before I even have the chance to open my mouth, Jackie's tongue has already forced it's way in. It's like I could taste her smugness through the kiss. She tasted sweet and I could taste the remnants of a drunk cig on her lips.

"Enough you two!" I felt Mari's hand on my shoulder and I pulled away, breathless.

"Way over the time limit." Nat mumbled, laughing to herself.

I look at Jackie, her tongue slowly slid across her own bottom lip as if she was trying to taste me on them. We both returned to our spots.

The game continued as normal, except for the occasional stares I would get from Jackie.

—

—

Where the fuck was Natalie? She was my ride. The party had almost entirely cleared out and I did not want to be stuck in Jackie's house any longer. I walked into the kitchen, hoping she was in there. It was empty except for Jackie who was picking solo cups off the ground.

I internally groaned and the words left my mouth before I could stop myself, "Do you need help?"

Jackie looks up at me, "Uh...yeah -- you're still here?"

"Yeah, I think my ride might be preoccupied."

"With...Misty? Lottie? Travis?"

"Don't ask me, because I honestly don't know." I reply, picking a cup off the ground.

Jackie laughed, it was light and carefree -- the side of Jackie I never had the fortune of seeing, "Fair. I was worried you were coming back for seconds."

"Worried? You wish I would come back for seconds." I respond and Jackie pauses for a second, her eyes meeting mine before inching down and this time, her eyes won't leave my lips, "Taylor?"

Jackie shook her head, her attitude returning once her eyes moved away from my lips, "Yeah, like anyone would want that."

"I don't know, Taylor, you were pretty quick to put your tongue in my mouth."

"It was Mari's stupid rule, not mine." Jackie pauses, her lips curling into a smirk, "You know what wasn't a rule of Mari's thought? Putting your hand on my thigh."

"I-It..." Why does she have to be so infuriating? "It wasn't like that! I needed somewhere to put my hand."

Jackie's moves closer to me and I can hear my own heartbeat thumping against my chest, I can feel my face getting hot, "If that's the case, then why are you always checking me out during practice?"

Busted.

I tried to think of anything I could, any reason why my eyes might linger on her a little too long, why I play worse whenever Jackie's jersey rides up, why...

Jackie's fingers were in my hair, her lips on mine. I return the kiss because the unbearable truth of it all is that one kiss wasn't going to be enough. Not when she felt this good, not when she tasted this good. I push Jackie against the kitchen counter, my body trapping her against it. While her hands run through my hair, mine are sliding every crumpled can and solo cup off of the counter behind her. Without breaking the kiss, I lift Jackie onto the counter with a small yelp from her. We both pull away at the same time, both thinking the same thing.

Jackie removes her dress and I follow by taking off my shirt, the desperation evident in the swiftness of our actions. Jackie was quick to grab my arm right after, her nails digging into my skin as she pulls me back against her. Her hands move anywhere they can; her nails running along my back, my arms, leaving scratch marks anywhere they possibly can as if Jackie was marking her territory. Her lips met mine and she was anything but gentle, her tongue slipping into my mouth, sliding against my tongue. My knees felt weak, her tongue felt so warm and I was so desperate for more. Jackie's lips left mine, kissing the corner of my mouth before kissing my jaw, then down my neck. Her kisses were soft at first, it felt restrained. The heat of her mouth hovering just slightly above my neck made me whimper and that's right when she sucked on my neck, leaving yet another mark on my body. My hands moved up her back, finding the clasp of her bra and undoing it as Jackie worked on my neck. I pulled away from Jackie's lips, throwing her bra wherever I had thrown everything else on the counter.

I couldn't stop staring at Jackie. Her chest heaving as she tries to catch her breath, the soft smooth skin of her chest, and the way her eyes darkened. My hands moved up, groping her chest, my fingers circling her nipples. Jackie's back arched, seemingly involuntarily, as if her body had been craving this for longer than she would ever care to admit.

My eyes linger on her body, taking in every inch of her as my hands remain on her chest.

She was wet.

I could see it clearly through her white panties (with a little bow on top, how cute). I shift slightly, moving my lips right to her ear, "You're wet." Jackie blushes, a soft moan leaving her lips.

"Are you going to do something about it?" Her tone was challenging. My hands left Jackie's chest, moving down her stomach. She knew I could never turn down a challenge from her. My hand moved past the waistband of her panties, running my fingers through her folds and feeling her wetness coat them. I circled her clit with my two fingers, slowly, barely applying any pressure. Jackie's hands found my collar and she pulled me into another kiss.

My fingers slid down further, "Are you okay with this?"

"Yes, yes, yes." Jackie desperately said against my lips and with that, I slid my fingers into her. Jackie moaned into the kiss, her hands moving from my shirt to my hair, tugging on it and trying to remove any space between the two of us. My thumb moved to her clit to replace the fingers that are now thrusting inside her. It was slow and I could tell Jackie wanted more, she made that clear by continuing to use my hair to pull me closer, "Mmm, More."

This was the opposite of the Jackie I knew, the one who demanded every little thing from me. This Jackie was falling apart in my arms, begging me for something -- but, she could do way better, "Beg."

Jackie's hands stopped moving through my hair, "W-What?"

"You heard me; if you want more, beg for it." My fingers didn't stop pumping into her, painfully slow, my thumb barely ghosting over her clit.

"You're such a jerk, (Y/n)!"

"That doesn't sound like begging to me."

"I hate you."

"You can keep saying you hate me, but I can feel you clenching around my fingers whenever I speak, so go on, Taylor, admit it..."

"Call me 'Taylor' one more time and I'll stop this whole thing right now." Jackie demands, but her shaky voice makes it hard to even consider it a demand. My fingers slow down even more and Jackie's hips jerked up in response, immediately trying to make up for the lack of movement, "W-Wait," Her voice falters, her words now coming out as pleas, "D-Don't slow down, c-call me whatever you want, but don't stop!" Jackie's hands move down to grab my wrists, trying to get me to move my hands and I can't help but smirk. Jackie Taylor is begging me to fuck her, Jackie Taylor is rocking her hips desperately on my fingers. Fuck.

"Better." I can feel Jackie tighten around my fingers at the smallest bit of praise and I decide to give into what she wants, moving my fingers faster now and pressing my thumb to her clit. A broken moan escapes Jackie's lips, her head is thrown back and her back is arched and she is practically riding my fingers with the way her hips jerk at every thrust.

I curl my fingers and I feel Jackie's hands claw at my back, "T-There...Please, right there..."

"Good girl." I coo, curling my fingers once more and Jackie begins moaning my name.

"(Y/n), gonna cum, gonna cum!" She moans out and I slow down my fingers. Her head snaps forward, her eyes wide, "What...What are you doing!?" Jackie's hips never stop moving as she scolds me, desperate for release.

"You didn't ask for permission."

Jackie's mouth falls open and her eyebrows furrow clearly about to protest when instead a needy plea falls from her lips, "Please, can I cum? I need to cum, (Y/n), your fingers feels so good."

My fingers resume their previous pace and Jackie's back to moaning, her hips moving with even more effort now, determined to get off on my hand.

"You can cum, Jackie." I whisper in her ear and I feel Jackie immediately tighten around my fingers. Her nails dig so hard into my back that I'm worried she might draw blood. Her movements slow down as her juices coat my fingers and I slow down my pace, "Good, Jackie, just like that." I whisper in her ear, helping her come down from her orgasm. Her breathing is rapid, soft whines leaving her lips as I pull my fingers out of her and pull my hand entirely out of her now completely drenched panties.

I hold my fingers up to her face and Jackie opens her mouth, her tongue reaching desperately for my fingers as if she had been waiting to taste herself. Her big eyes met mine as she looked up at me, her eyes never leaving mine as she sucks every drop off of my fingers. My fingers leave her mouth with a popping noise.

"Thank you." Jackie mumbles, breathless, and I smile at her and she continues, "Don't get an ego out of this."

"That might be very hard to do."

Masterlist