rey-jake-therapist · 3 days ago
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If Sauron just wanted an "assistant" and a "figurehead" who would let him do everything he wanted while happily doing his bidding, Mirdania was a much better pick than Galadriel.
I mean, It's always about what "Sauron wanted", but it's never "how Galadriel would have reacted". If he seriously believed that Galadriel would have been okay with being a powerless puppet, then he was even more delulu than I thought lmao Unlike him, Galadriel's not a follower. If she had taken his offer in season 1, she would have fought to get what he promised, I have no doubt about that !
Mirdania, on the other hand, was so easy to manipulate. That's why I wonder if he didn't consider making her, probably not his queen, but what Charlie said : his assistant/PR/figurehead... We all saw him manipulate her to isolate Celebrimbor and make him more vulnerable to his abusive techniques, which was definitely what Sauron was doing with her, partly at least.
Yet, before Mirdania put on the ring and passed in the Unseen world, he didn't care at all about her. She was trying to be friendly with him, and he just stood like... "Is this an insect on my back ?"
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But after Celebrimbor put the ring off her finger, that was his reaction when she said what she saw :
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Ohh suddenly Mirdania became interesting to him. Because she had been there. Suddenly, he was all over her, even a little too much over her (get your hands off her you creepo!!) :
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I think there were many things in this gesture, which is weird even by his own standards; Sauron's a man of words, he seldom touches people to manipulate them.
1st meaning : he was manipulating her : the most obvious meaning. But he had already gotten into her pants when he compared her to "the lady Galadriel", there was no real need to touch her like that.
2nd meaning : he was thinking of Galadriel : ship or don't ship Haladriel, but Mirdania was totally meant to be Galadriel's stand-in: she was blond, with an identical hairstyle, and she wore an almost identical green dress to the one Gal wore in Eregion. And Sauron immediatly noticed it when she came to meet him the first time. Look at how he's looking at her from feet to head, then start immediatly flirting with her :
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So, Sauron likely got carried away by his obsession for Galadriel when he touched Mirdania's hair, here.
3rd meaning : maybe, maybe, he started thinking that Mirdania could indeed provide a replacement for Galadriel, in his plans.
Then there was this scene :
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Another unnecessary touching. An intimate one that is, look at what he's doing ! We never saw him touch anyone like this before, not even for manipulation sake. It felt like he was trying to feel something. Something in relation to his obsession for Galadriel, again : if he couldn't get Galadriel, maybe Mirdania could do ? But then his face looked like... Not convinced. Not convinced at all.
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Later in that same episode, Sauron created an illusion for Celebrimbor where Eregion was doing fine so he would go back to work. After Celebrimbor left (so the illusion was no longer needed), this scene involving a Galadriel lookalike and a faceless man (likely to be a self-insert) telling her these words took place, and caught his attention :
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I think it's when he realized that there could be no replacement for Galadriel. He didn't want a pretty submissive Elf girl who would be only perfect for the PR and the paperwork, he wanted the fiery Galadriel who wanted his death.
I mean, it makes Mirdania and Sauron's last interaction easier to understand; he was back at being cold and uncaring, while he was not done with Celebrimbor yet ! He could have still needed to manipulate her, and yet he just looked annoyed when she reached for his hand :
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I don't know about you, but the moment I saw the way he looked at her I thought, "oh Mirdania dear, you're so dead". I think it's the moment he decided she was disposable, because whatever project he had for her was cancelled. This cold cynical bastard even told her she would be "duly rewarded".
We all know what came next :
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(R.I.P. Mirdania, sorry, really)
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grimmweepers · 23 hours ago
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𝐆𝐔𝐍 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘: OCT 31ST
— ♤ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: bonten!sanzu x fem!reader | 𝐜𝐰: gunplay, gun kink, under the influence (alcohol), dubcon, semi-public, night club setting, dark jokes, reader wears a dress, light spanking (slaps your ass once), established relationship, calls you 'baby' & 'little girl', groping if you squint (from sanzu), erm something inanimate goes in your hole, can you guess what? :o) 1.8k wc, 18+ only, MDNI.
𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭
reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
AND ONE LAST TIME, READ THE WARNINGS!
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The smell of cigar smoke and expensive cologne infested the room. How it traveled from the main part of the club to this secluded space was beyond you, but you couldn’t think too much about it. A heavy bass vibrated the mirrored walls, making it seem like everything around you pulsed with life, and the hum of music was still audible—but it was distant enough to reassure you there would be absolutely no lurkers nearby.
You sat on your boyfriend’s lap, legs spread wide over his suited thighs while the leather couch squeaked shyly underneath you. Smitten with stealing you away from the crowd, Sanzu’s hands rested firmly on your hips to keep you in place, but the real control was in his pistol. It glinted under the little light that the room provided and his eyes watched you intently as he traced the barrel along your throat, the cold metal biting into your skin. 
You felt the coercion behind it, inviting you like an innocent dare when in actuality it was downright rotten, and he licked his lips as he gave you a moment to reconsider.
In Bonten, it was always Sanzu who pulled the trigger so this wasn’t his first time at the rodeo—but having you at the receiving end was.
When he initially removed it from his pocket, you decided on a whim that you would act on your little fantasy, snatching the gun from his grasp and gifting it a playful kiss. But what you should have known was that everything you did, he could take even further.
“You’re not scared, are ya?” His smirk deepened when he pressed the barrel harder into your skin. “It’s loaded.”
“I’m not,” but you should have been. You blamed all the shots you threw back, the bitter taste of alcohol still melted into the buds of your tongue and it left your body burning for him instead of being afraid of the weapon in front of you. 
The corner of his scarred mouth quirked into a dark smile as he leaned closer, “Good.” He shifted the gun lower, dragging the barrel down your throat, between your breasts, until it rested against your lower abdomen. “Don’t want you dyin' in a shit mood if I accidentally fuck up…” he dramatically mimicked a small explosion with his hand, and poof was the sound he added right after so you knew he meant blowing out your guts.
A soft gasp escaped your lips as he slid his hand up your thigh, pushing the hem of your dress higher. 
“Damn,” his fingers dipped between your legs, finding your panties already damp with arousal, “Why didn't you tell me you were into this sooner?”
You squirmed in his lap and felt his growing tent poking at you from underneath. “Just had to make sure you weren’t psychotic enough to shoot,” you shrugged.
“Yeah I got somethin’ to shoot in ya and it ain’t these bullets, babe,” he cackled but you dropped your weight on his lap even more to remind him he wasn’t going to “shoot” anything at all if he kept this up.
Sanzu resisted the urge to close his eyes at the feeling of your warmth pressed on his crotch. Flushed, soft and only a thin layer away from your pussy. It was too early for him to do some shit like rut into you because if it wasn't obvious to you already, it was he who had been thinking with his dick since the beginning of the night.
When his boys weren’t looking, he was all over you, pulling you to dark corners any chance he got just to grope you while he shoved his alcohol-laced tongue down your throat. As your own liquid courage came to fruition, you both ended up in this private room—and every pretty penny it cost him was entirely worth it.
Finally, Sanzu trailed the barrel lower and lower, brushing it over your panties and tickling your clit in a way that made your breath hitch. Your heart pounded in your chest and you couldn’t help but roll your hips towards it. With his eyes still locked on you, he watched closely for every reaction, finding satisfaction in every little twitch of pleasure as he dragged the gun back and forth across your clothed pussy.
“You like that, don’t ya?” he purred. 
You couldn't stop a defeated moan from slipping past your lips, “Yeah… I do.” Your voice was trembling, hardly above a whisper and there was no denying that you were getting wetter by the minute.
“You’re fuckin’ filthy,” he hissed, each word dripping with amusement. Sanzu shifted again, this time sliding the barrel underneath your panties, pressing it directly against your aching core.
“Oh—” was all you could say as your body jerked towards the blissful pressure. The contrast of its icy touch rubbing against your heat had you shuddering.
Your reaction made him involuntarily buck into you, clearly even more turned on by how desperate you were. So he guided the gun down your slit, the barrel grazing your entrance with slow strokes that left your stomach fluttering with anticipation. Sanzu was now rock hard, precum threatening to seep through his slacks as he watched you try to get off on his weapon.
“Dirty, little girl,” you heard the mockery in his voice and felt his free hand fall on your waist, controlling your movements as you rubbed yourself against the cool metal.
“Please…” You whimpered as your body went taut.
Sanzu chuckled, pressing the barrel harder against your entrance, slipping just the tip of it inside you. You cried out his name at the foreign sensation, “More, more, more…!” while you locked his thighs between your legs.
It was nothing compared to the girth of his cock but better that than nothing, right?
“Fuck yeah,” he groaned, brain almost short-circuiting at how lewd you were, “You want this gun in your pussy?”
Nodding, you carefully rocked your hips towards him and that was all he needed to start thrusting it. Slowly, like he was testing the waters.
You bit your bottom lip as it stretched you out, “Mhm! Feels… so fucking good—” which earned you an encouraging, “Uh huh? Is that right?” from your boyfriend. With the music blaring in the background, you both weren’t afraid to be loud so you didn't suppress the moans and mewls that slipped in tandem each time he urged you on.
But the thing with alcohol was that everything felt ten times better, ten times delicious, ten times tantalising, so you didn’t have the patience to take it slow—you were desperate to feel it pumping inside you even though it made you tremble on top of him.
You picked up your pace like you needed that thing and when you placed your hand on his shoulders to balance yourself, the look he flashed you was nothing shy of crazy—teeth glistening under the low light and jaw slacking as if seeing you like this was better than any drug he’d ever taken.
He allowed himself to look down to see where the pistol and your pussy connected, again and again, faster and harder, and—
“Fuckkkkk,” was all he could quietly say as another bead of precum stained the inside of his briefs.
“Come on, baby,” his hand snaked to your ass, giving it a hard spank as you chased your release. He couldn’t get enough of seeing you so feral, “Cum for me. Cum on it.”
If you weren’t so dumbstruck from his gun, you would have felt his cock twitching with you, wishing it was him you were bouncing on instead. He growled, “Fuck it, baby. Fuck it like it’s me.”
The combination of his words, his voice, his hands, and getting taken by a literal gun, had you whining uncontrollably. Each time you slid against the cold steel, it rattled and touched your sweet spot. You were dangerously close—and the worst part of it was that it wasn’t the threat of getting shot that you were close to, but the fact that you were close to cumming all over that very weapon.
You writhed above him, and he could've busted in his pants just from the friction of you. You didn't want to stop. Actually, you couldn't stop. Each time you rocked your hips, it took a breath out of you—out of him. And inevitably your orgasm tore through you as if it were the first time you felt an orgasm at all.
“Ah fuck!!!!" The coil in you finally snapped. "I’m— cummi—” You gasped and clung to him while it consumed you.
Your body convulsed as the rest of your panties became fully soaked with your essence and Sanzu moved his gun faster just to draw out the last of your shockwaves. Your walls clenched and squeezed until you went limp against him—pleasure quickly replaced with sensitivity.
Soon, Sanzu pulled the gun from between your legs, and with a wicked smirk on his face, he held it between you, showing the barrel slick with your juices like it was some prize.
At first, you were too dazed and out of breath to notice what he was trying to do, but his mouth parted slightly when you did.
“Kiss it,” he muttered, giving the weapon a subtle shake in his hand. Never the type to let you off the hook so easily, he brought it close to your lips and waited.
Yet, with a gleam in your eye that matched his own, you slowly leaned in and brushed your lips against the metal. The taste of your own cunt sent another rush through you, and you heard his sharp intake of breath at the sight.
“Fuckin’ hell, you’re so damn sexy,” he said as you tipped the pistol into your mouth, softly moaning and sucking on the barrel as if it were an extension of him. Biting his lips, he groaned at your filthy little act and judging from that signature unhinged grin he was giving you, you knew he wouldn’t be able to hold himself back any longer. 
When Sanzu pulled the gun from your mouth, he fought tooth and nail not to tear the dress off of you, after all, you had to wear something on the way home. So he tossed his weapon to the side, wrapped his hand around the back of your neck, and crashed his lips onto yours like a starved animal. 
He started to fiddle with his belt buckle while he muffled grunts and curses into your mouth, the bulge under his trousers painfully prominent. Something stirred within him and you could feel his breathing intensifying as you kissed back with equal fervor.
Between gasps of air, it almost sounded like he was begging when he impatiently unzipped his pants and said, “Ride me.”
“After all that, you can’t even say it nicely?” You returned that smirk he’d been wearing all night.
“Please, baby.”
As you lifted the hem of your dress to your waist, a secret smile formed the corner of your mouth. You missed the feeling of something actually stretching you out, so after seeing your boyfriend free his throbbing cock from its restraints, the way it glistened with precum and twitched excitedly—you knew the fun was only just beginning. 
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a/n: made it through my first kinktober! if you’ve read any of my ktober posts, thank you! if this is your first, thank you and i hope you enjoyed! i’ve had this in my drafts since the 3rd of september, it killed me to wait this long!
© 2024 grimmweepers — do not repost, copy, translate, modify my work on any platform
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moonlit-imagines · 1 day ago
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Preferences: the Avengers visiting you, the owner of the local bookstore
Avengers x reader
warnings:
a/n: i hope it ok i turned into prefs!! i think it made more sense with the interaction part <3
prompt: @groovy-lady: “May I please request headcanons of being the owner of a bookshop the Avengers all go to and how they all interact with you?”
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Bruce is there quite often, frequently in the scientific section. He buys stacks of books at a time and is quiet and polite when checking out. You always comment on how smart he must be and he awkwardly laughs it off. After a while, you start pulling certain books you’d think would interest him, which melted his heart when he realized you thought of him. “I added a science fiction novel in there, too. I don’t know if that’s your thing, but it’s one of my favorites.” You told him and he smiled. “Thank you for thinking of me.” He said.
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Clint bought a lot of kids books. “How many?” You asked. “Three. Two boys and a girl.” He told you. You admired his choice of books for his kids. Teen fiction, sci-fi, graphic novels, fantasy, and a few children’s books. “Lots of variety.” You commented. “Yeah, trying to get them into reading.” He explained. “Any recommendations? The older ones are preteens, a boy and a girl. The little one is just learning how to read.” You smirked and started heading towards some classics like Percy Jackson, Harry Potter, and The Hunger Games. “These are the most popular for their age group, and I love them, too. As far as your little guy, you’ve already got the right idea.” Clint was grateful and took the first book of each popular series, promising to come back if they loved them as much you you did.
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Nat was a fantasy reader. She had no shame in it. “What do you have for me today, y/n?” She’d approach the counter and have a small stack waiting for her. You’d go down the list with a little synopsis of each. “I hope you like them.” You told her. “You haven’t let me down yet.” She said back. She also donates her books when she’s done with them, saying she wants someone else to enjoy them as much as she did.
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Steve nearly picked your history section clean. “Catching up, Captain?” You joked, recognizing the Super Soldier as soon as he walked in. “I don’t even know where to start.” He admitted. You gladly slimmed down his pile of history books and replaced quite a few with some fantastic works that came out while he was on ice. “As much as I enjoy reading, you won’t learn everything from these. Make sure you aren’t missing out by trying to catch up.” You warmly told him. “That’s good advice.” You told him you try and rung him up, warning him not to go reading those all at once.
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Tony was more interested in comics and graphic novels, you’d laugh when you saw him pick up the more risque comics and he’d give you a playful wink. “They’re not for me, they’re for Clint’s son, the three-year-old.” He always knew how to make you laugh. “Yes, Elvira is the perfect choice for Clint’s small child.” He said he knew you’d understand. He also admitted he likes comics because they give him a little break from thinking all day and some of the characters remind him of his own life. You told him he was like Batman, he disagrees.
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Thor checks out Norse Mythology more often than not. He likes to see what is written about him and his family in the eyes of Midgardians. “Are you sure you don’t want to try something different this time, Thor?” You motioned to a different section. “There’s so much more to choose from, I’d love to give you some recommendations.” Thor declined, placing another Norse book on the counter. “Have you ever read about me? Or my brother, Loki?” You nodded, telling him you’ve read a book or two that had them featured. “Wel”l, maybe next time I’ll buy something with a little less…me in it. We’ll see. Thank you, y/n!”
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Before the Darkhold, Wanda was actually quite the enjoyer of teen fiction. She begged you not to tell the others what she read, and you promised you’d never share her secret. Most of the time, she’d cozy up in your reading corner with a coffee and read her “secret” books away from the Avengers. “Wanda, this one just came in. I think you’d love it.”
taglist: @locke-writes // @captainshazamerica // @summersimmerus // @prettysbliss // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @beth-gallagher22 // @mymelodymia // @deanzboyfriend // @mr-mxyzptlk-1940 //
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aceyalonso · 1 day ago
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sera's tracks - 1k celebration
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AHHHHHH 1K!!!! thank you so much, i honestly can't believe that I've reached a milestone like this because this blog started out as a joke (I wanted to see how long it would take my friends to find my blog), but here we are 🥹 I am so grateful for every single one of you 💗
similar to my 500 followers event (i swear i'll actually do this one!!), I'll give a list of songs and you guys can request.
These songs are some of my personal faves so there will be a good mix of genres for requests! there's a total of 10 songs + lyrics that you can use as a guide for what the fic/story will be (2 are songs I already have planned, the rest are up for grabs)
a/n: to my wonderful moots who i absolutely love and feel like i’ve known my entire life, @nepobbylver @iamred-iamyellow @cleopatrick-123 @emchante, i just want to say i love you guys!!!! mwah mwah mwah (I love my other moots too I swear, I just haven't had the opportunity to interact with them 😖)
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how can i request?  send an ask, pairing a driver with the available songs!
↳ example: “hi! can i request [driver] + [song]? also can it be [choose from smut, angst, fluff, or a combination of any of the 2]?”
can i be added to the taglist? of course, just fill out the form below :)
↳ click me!
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guide!
smut - [s] fluff - [f] angst -[a]
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fics i have planned!
piano man - billy joel [f] - charles leclerc x fem!reader
butterflies - denise julia [f, s] - lando norris x fem!reader
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open for requests!
guilty as sin? - taylor swift
i keep recalling things we never did, messy top lip kiss, how i long for our trysts
these fatal fantasies giving way to labored breath, taking all of me, we’ve already done it in my head
without ever touching his skin, how can i be guilty as sin?
be with you - the ridleys
someday i’ll make a home with you, it may be big, it may be small
but if the dreams don’t happen right away, that’s okay, i just wanna be with you every single day, for the rest of our lives
I'm gonna work on my temper, while you learn to speak your mind some more, i'll be more of a shelter and less of a storm
best friends brother - victorious cast, victoria justice
i don’t know what i’m thinking, but is it wrong if i see him this weekend?
i kinda think that i might be his type, 'cause when you're not around, he's not acting too shy
i really hope i can get him alone, i just don’t want her to know
bags - clairo
can you see me usin’ everythin’ to hold back?
i’m not the type to run, i know that we’re havin’ fun, but what’s the rush? kiss and then my cheeks are so flushed
can you see me? i’m waitin’ for the right time, i can’t read you, but if you want, the pleasure’s all mine
mad - ne-yo
so both of us are mad for nothing, fighting for nothing
but baby, can we make up now? cause i can’t sleep through the pain
we can fuss, we can fight, long as everything’s all right between us before we go to sleep, baby we’re gonna be happy
superman - taylor swift
he’s got his mother’s eyes, his father’s ambition. i wonder if he know how much that i miss him
i watch superman fly away, you got a busy day today, go save the world, i’ll be around
something in his deep brown eyes has me saying “he’s not all bad like his reputation”
if ever you’re in my arms again - peabo bryson
now, i’m seeing clearly how i still need you near me, i still love you so
the best of romances, deserve second chances, i'll get to you some, 'cause i promise now, if ever you're in my arms again, this time i'll you much better
it all came so easy, the lovin' you gave me, the feelings we shared, and I can still remember how your touch was so tender
guy.exe - superfruit
where all the boys at with financial security? a doctor, a model, a man of possibilities
oh, he’d pick me up at eight, and not a minute late, ‘cause i don’t like to wait, no
i need a man who don’t get jealous ‘less i want him to, a gentleman to take care of me in the bedroom
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taissaswifelowkey · 2 days ago
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farmhand reader and jackie WHEN???
a/n: farmhand characters will forever be my favourite trope. i think this one’s going to be read as afab, gender neutral reader
warnings: a few implications and suggestive themes. sort of like yearning. lots of yearning. gay jokes and gay.
like imagine she lives in a farmhouse with her parents. alright, cool. and they need help with the cattle and the land.
jackie is so bored out of her life. sure she has perfect parents, lives more than decently and has an amazing boyfriend (we’ll get into this more later once everything is properly organised) but it feels too perfect. all too perfect. like she wants to live for her and not for others
let’s say you’re in need of cash cause you have to repair your pickup truck. also your best friend, van chose to tag along cause she needed to buy a nice gift for taissa! such a gentleman. and it’s a great summer job that pays.
jackie’s parents just give you two the list of things that needs to be done. and when she’s told that ppl are going to help with the farm she wasn’t expecting you two. maybe older people. not someone who can make simple tank tops and flannel shirts look good (WHO SAID THAT?)
jackie watches you work. listens to the way you mutter curses, the sound of your laughter when you joke around with van and watches the way you tilt your head back against the apple tree when you’re on your lunch break.
she thinks she’s being slick watching you from the curtain of her windows but can catches on to her behaviour and nudges you
“dude, the taylors' daughter is staring at you.”
“huh?”
“like she has been ogling you for a good set of five minutes. i counted it, too. it would have been closer to another minute if i didn’t caught her.”
yeah it’s safe to say that after this embarrassing episode jackie stays at home everyday. goes out with friends when she can but ngl she wishes classes would come sooner. she still has the memory of you waving confusedly before she shut the curtains. now you must probably think she’s a creep. great.
but she gets herself together and tries to bake you cookies as an official “greeting” considering she has been ogling silent more than speaking. they’re a bit salty but it’s the thought that counts.
“i’m sorry for being weird. i was just looking at you because i was interested in what it’s like to be a farmer.”
van tries to stifle back a laugh under the disguise of a polite smile, already planning to tell everything to taissa but you understand what’s happening, silencing her with a glance before turning back to the nervous blonde. and instead of stopping to think of a proper sentence and tone structure, you ended up blurting words that will forever be registered in history of failed interactions.
“pretty girls like you want to get dirty?”
the words leave your mouth so quickly and van downright cries from laughter, having to step outside for some fresh air. you two are such awkward messes it’s insane. to be fair, it was the first time you’ve seen her face to face.
from then on you avoid contact for a week. just saying hi and bye when you can. sometimes she’d offer you lemonade and van would say somegthing like “you know what they say about cowgirls right. i think jackie’s got a thing for them.” or “damn i’m pretty sure if it were just me i’d get a glass of water. not that i’m complaining. keep on making more than heart eyes on who knows we might just be invited to dinner.” and you’re just too embarrassed to say anything, too stunned to tell her to shut up. and your reaction time is and bc jackie was not that far from you.
jackie who, eventually gathers her courage to watch you work up close. gets a bit bold though. and you’re too surprised to say anything but it’s pleasant to see her go from shy to confident. can go from brushing against your body when there’s clearly enough space between you to whispering bye as you leave. we love a versatile girlie
also, something about seeing you in a flannel shirt with suspenders when you have rare evening shifts drives her wild. like yeah the wind is chilly but forget about that. flannels and suspenders. you’re wearing a hat? van was probably on to something
and from there it’ll be a build up. trust i have ideas. :( sad ones yes with maybe a hopeful ending 😎‼️‼️
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elllisaaa · 5 hours ago
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SECRET SECRET - H. JISUNG
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KINKTOBER DAY 15 - MULTIPLE ORGASMS + FEMDOM
SUMMARY : you always liked your men weak and pathetic, so no one was shocked to hear that you had a crush on han jisung - the nerdy boy of your physics class. being paired up with him for a project was the perfect opportunity to have him all for you. except that finding a collection of dairies filled with all the fantasises he has about you wasn't part of your plan.
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-> pairing : loser!han jisung x fem!reader
-> words count : 2.9k
-> genre : smut
-> warnings : sub!jisung x soft dom!reader, dom/sub dynamic (obviously), overstimulation, han is kind of a pervert, teasing, use of 'good boy' & 'fucktoy', begging, dry humping, marking, dirty talk, teasing, handjob, oral (m. receiving), deepthroating, spitting, cum eating, choking, unprotected sex, creampie
+ the way i'm depicting jisung does not represent him, it's only a work of fiction
-> 18+ content bellow, minors DNI
-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated ! sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language.
-> masterlist | skz masterlist | kinktober 2024
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Jisung had never asked for much in life - good grades and friends were all he needed. And he had both. Aside from that, he knew he had a reputation around campus - for being a loser, a nerd who loved anime. But Jisung didn’t mind it, that way people left him alone and he lived peacefully. That was until you entered the equation. The first time he caught a glimpse of you during the first physics class of the semester, he was immediately hooked. And from then on, he developed some kind of obsession over you.
He would always stare at you during your shared classes, would always remember very clearly what outfit you wore everyday of the week, would always notice the tiniest change in your emotions or appearance. Jisung knew he was being obvious, that everyone had noticed how he looked at you with puppy eyes, fascinated by your mere existence. And he didn’t want you to think he was a loser, so he did his best not act like the nerd he usually was when you were around. 
Obviously, you knew about Jisung’s crush on you too, everyone knew. And to be honest, you didn’t mind it. At first, you only thought it was cute how pathetically in love he was. And as time went on, as you tried to engage in discussion with him during your shared classes, you came to like him too. You always had a thing for boys who were kind of losers, and Jisung was no exception to this rule. The way his big glasses sat on the bridge of his pretty nose, the way his cheeks were covered in pink everytime you talked to him, the way his gummy smile made you want to crack one too - everything in him was too cute to resist. 
But despite your efforts to show some kind of interest in him, Jisung didn’t make a move. He was too shy to do so, and moreover, he had convinced himself that you were only being friendly to him out of pity. Even if every one of his interactions with you nourished his daily fantasies and his already huge crush on you, he didn’t make a move. So when you got paired up with him for the next presentation you had to do for your physics class, you thought it was the perfect opportunity to spend some more time with him and hopefully get him to confess his feelings to you. 
“- Do you want something to drink ? I made some tea earlier, I didn’t know what you’d like...”
You looked back to Jisung who was playing with his fingers anxiously, his voice quiet and shy. You smiled at him reassuringly, your urge to make him yours even bigger now that you had a view of how cute he could really be.
“- I could use some tea, yeah. Thank you Jisung, that’s so sweet.”
His cheeks took a darker shade of red at your compliments, and he only nodded at you because he wasn’t sure if he could talk without embarrassing himself. You watched him go to the kitchen to prepare your drink, and you decided that it was time for a break. You let your eyes wander around his room - a typical nerd room with posters, anime figurines, mangas on every shelf. But apart from that, it was way much cleaner than any other boy on campus. 
Your eyes catched something picking out from underneath his bed, and you frowned as you tried to understand what it was. Truly, you knew that it was a bad idea, that you shouldn’t stick your nose into his business, but your curiosity was stronger. You grabbed the unknown object, which was in fact a shoe box that was quite heavy. Maybe you should’ve stopped there, but you didn’t. You opened the box to discover tons of notebooks that looked like diaries by the dates written on the spine. You took the most recent one and opened it to a random page, and as you slowly understood the meaning of the words, your eyes progressively widened in surprise. 
“- Sorry I took so long, I couldn’t find th-”
Jisung cut himself off as he saw you there, reading his diary, visibly shocked, the two glasses of iced tea almost slipping out of his hands. You looked up at him, the same surprise written all over your face, and Jisung felt shame wash over him immediately.
“- Jisung… What is all of this ?
- I… I’m sorry…”
The poor boy seemed on the verge of tears, his big eyes filled with regret, and you softened to the sight. But Jisung couldn’t stop cursing himself out. It was already bad to be a pervert and write down all his fantasies about you, but it was even worse that you had discovered it. Why couldn’t he hide this box better when he knew you were coming over ? He lowered his head, ready for you to swear at him, to tell him that he was disgusting.
“- Jisung, look at me.”
Your voice didn’t hold any trace of anger or reproach, but Jisung still hesitated before he listened to you, his glossy eyes falling into your gentle ones. 
“- Can you explain to me what this is ?”
Your tone was encouraging, almost comforting, and yet there was a firmness in it that encouraged Jisung to spit it out. 
“- I… This is gonna sound like I’m a pervert but I… I have a crush on you… A-And I just couldn’t stop thinking about you, and I needed to say it somewhere so I started to write it down, and I’m so fucking sorry Y/N, I should’ve… I should’ve never done that, I’m sorry…”
You stayed silent as Jisung explained himself, nobbind along to his words. You would’ve never imagined this coming from him, and Jisung would’ve never imagined that you would discover his dirty secret. As you still hadn’t said anything, Jisung anxiously looked at you, calmly flipping through the pages of his dairy. Suddenly, you stopped on one of the entries, a sly smile spreading on your face as you giggled to the words he had written down, making him feel so small and furthermore humiliated. 
“- You’re so cute Jisung. You really want to “become my fucktoy” ?”
It was as if his brain malfunctioned, both from you calling him cute - you really thought that he was cute even after having read all the dirty things he wrote about you ? Unbelievable - and from you quoting his desperate, horny dream. But if it was his chance to prove to you how much he liked you, how desperate he was for every crumb of your attention, of your touch, he was going to take it. 
“- I… I… Yes, yes, please…”
Your smile only widened as you heard his begs, putting away the box and the dairy as you gestured for him to come closer to where you were sitting on the edge of his bed. Having you in his room was already nerve wracking enough for Jisung, but this whole situation was on another level. He gulped down as he put down the two glasses of ice tea that you would most likely not drink now, and he approached you with careful steps, still convinced that this was only another one of his wet dreams and that he was going to wake up sooner or later. 
“- Relax baby, I’m not gonna hurt you, only going to make you feel good, yeah ?”
Jisung’s brain malfunctioned again, and you chuckled as you saw him staring at you with wide eyes, his plump lips that you had wanted to kiss for so long parted but no words coming out of it. You slowly reached for his hand, pulling him to sit down on the bed instead of you as you straddled his lap, your clothed heat pressing against the obvious boner deforming his pants. Jisung inhaled sharply, a pathetic whine falling from his lips as he looked at you with the same starstrucked expression. 
“- Are you okay with this Jisung ?”
Your fingers were brushing against his cheek, an action that made his heart race in his chest. And your lips were only inches away from his, making it hard for him to think straight. 
“- Y-Yes, yes, please, Y/N…”
You didn’t let him say anything else as you crashed your lips against his in a messy, hungry kiss. Jisung closed his eyes immediately, letting the sensations sink in as he tried to kiss you back with the same eagerness. Having the girl of his dreams devouring his mouth wasn’t part of his plans, but he wasn’t going to complain. His hands hesitantly took place on your hips, and you sighed in his mouth at the contact, starting to roll your hips against his boner like some kind of reward. 
Jisung moaned into your mouth, which allowed you to come play with his tongue, deepening the kiss. Before long, Jisung was breathless, a whimpering and shaking mess as you only intensified the pressure of your hips against his. The situation excited you too, the way Jisung was reacting to every one of your touches so vividly, the way he was so sensitive and horny for you making you lose your mind as well.
“- Y-Y/N… I’m… I-I think I’m gonna cum…”
His cheeks had only grown redder, whines and pants escaping from his mouth as you were busy marking his neck up and down. You hummed against his skin, sucking one more purple spot on him before you bit into the flesh, proudly smirking at your masterpiece.
“- Yeah ? Think you’re gonna cum just like that ?”
He nodded at you with his eyes squeezed shut. He didn’t want to cum so soon, he wanted you to play with him again, and again, until he had nothing more to give you, until you were completely satisfied. But the way you were rocking your hips against his, and the way you were slightly tugging on his hair, and the way you were making him yours - all of that was sending him into another world, made the knot in his stomach tighten even as he tried his best to hold back, to stop you.
“- Then go on, baby. Cum. Show me how good you can be for me.”
A pitiful high-pitched whine escaped Jisung's lips as he came in his pants, burying his face in the crook of your neck and clinging to you as you helped him ride out his high, letting him buck up into you to try and get even more of that delicious friction. He was so cute, with his face all red and his big eyes still shining with lust as you cupped his face to force him to look at you again.
“- Such a good boy for me… Did it feel good, baby ?
- Fuck… Yes, felt so good, so fucking good…”
His voice came out shaky and choked, barely above a whisper as his gaze zeroed on your lips. A grin spread on your face as you got closer to him, until your lips could brush against his, but you didn't kiss him, giggling as he chased your mouth. But soon enough, he was interrupted by yet another moan as you had started to move again on top of him. And your smile widened as you felt him harden underneath you again, his whines even more desperate and needy than a few minutes ago. 
“- Y-Y/N… 
- What is it, baby ? Don’t you want to be my fucktoy ? Don’t you want to be my good boy ? Don’t you want to let me play with you ?”
Your dirty words were his last straw, rock hard again in his soiled underwear, his hands now boldly grabbing your waist and pressing you down on him to hump you like a dog. 
“- Please… P-Please don’t stop…”
You smiled at him, pecking his lips before you got off of his lap, ignoring his whines and protestations as you settled on the floor, in between his legs. Jisung’s eyes were wide open, his cock throbbing at the sight of your position and what it suggested. You giggled as he hurriedly got rid of his pants and underwear without even waiting for your next instructions, watching intently as you reached for his length, stroking him slowly, your thumb brushing against his tip and making him whine under his breath.
“- You’re gonna let me do whatever I want, right baby ?”
Jisung nodded eagerly, staring at where you were kneeling on the floor. The view was straight out of his wildest dreams and he didn’t know how to process everything that was happening, his body reacting instead of his mouth to every word you said, to every one of your touches. 
“- I need words baby. Tell me you want it.
- Y-Yes, yes please, Y/N, please… Please, I w-want you to touch me more, please…
- Sound so pretty when you beg, Ji. You deserve a reward, don’t you ?”
You didn’t let him have enough time to respond as you took him into your mouth, eliciting a loud, desperate moan for him. At this moment, Jisung wasn’t thinking anymore, only feeling how warm your mouth was, and how good it felt to have you sucking around him. You swiped your tongue around his tip, his cock already dripping with your saliva before you pushed him into your mouth again. Deeper. Until his tip was hitting the back of your throat. 
Jisung let out the prettiest sounds - whines for more, whimpers of your name, moans so high pitched you were sure he could be heard through the thin walls. And it only encouraged you to give him more, to bob your head up and down faster, to hollow your cheeks around him and show him how good you could make him feel. You could feel his cock throbbing in your mouth, and by the way his hands were gripping the sheets tightly and how squirmy he had gotten, you knew he was close to cumming. It spurred you on to take him as deep as you could, and the way you gagged around him was enough for Jisung to release into your mouth. And as you came up to kiss him and spit his cum back in his mouth, Jisung thought he had seen what heaven felt like. 
“- Felt good baby ?
- Yes, yes, yes ! So good, you’re perfect !”
You smirked at him as you pushed him to lay down on the bed, then climbing on top of him, your clothed pussy pressed against his cock. 
“- You’re getting hard again, Ji. You want more ?”
Jisung bit down on his lips as he nodded, but before he could even decide where on your body to place his hands, your own fingers wrapped around his throat, his mouth hanging open as you restricted his breathing. 
“- What did I say, baby ? I need words.
- S-Shit… Please, want more…
- Good boy.”
The petname paired with the way you squeezed around his throat tighter made him moan loudly, and your smile widened at the pretty view he offered you. You pushed your underwear aside, rubbing your wet folds against his hard dick. Jisung was all pliant in your hands, his hips bucking up against yours to try and get more friction, his body telling you what he couldn’t because you rendered him unable to talk. You didn’t make him wait any longer, pushing his cock inside of you, throwing your head back and moaning at the feeling.
“- You’re feeling me up so nicely Ji, I’m gonna ruin you.
- Please !”
His voice came out choked, interrupted by the way he moaned every time you clenched down around him. It didn’t take much for you to make him cum again - a little bit of pressure around his neck, your hips rolling in delicious circles on top of him, your warm pussy making him see stars, and your dirty words pushing him over the edge. Jisung needed a moment to catch his breath, to come to terms with what was happening. But you weren’t going to let him do that, starting to move on top of him again. 
“- Y-Y/N ! P-Please, I-I can’t, s’too much…”
You hummed against his lips, but you didn’t stop, only speeding up your moves. Jisung whined pathetically underneath you, trying to push you off his lap, but you were quick to pin his hands down to the mattress, looking down on him with a smirk on his face. Jisung had never seen a prettiest view, and you had never seen a prettiest sight either - the way he looked at you like you hung the stars in the sky, the way his eyes were filled with desperation, lust and unshed tears, the way pleas were slipping past his lips so easily. 
“- Too much ? But you said you were going to let me have my fun, Ji. Said you were going to be my fucktoy, didn’t you ?”
Jisung tried to answer but he was taken by surprise by another orgasm, shooting another load inside of you, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. He still couldn’t believe that this was real, but the way you were trying to get yet another release out of him was convincing enough to think that it maybe wasn’t just a dream. He writhed in overstimulation, but all he wanted to do was to please you, to let you use him until you were satisfied, until you had broken him down to pieces. 
“- You can give me one more baby, right ? You’re gonna be a good boy for me ?”
A sob escaped his lips, his pretty rosy cheeks now covered in tears as he nodded, eager to give you everything you wanted. You smirked again, sighing in pleasure as you started to move again, and as Jisung watched you milk him dry, he didn’t regret being a disgusting pervert anymore.
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mydreamchapter · 1 day ago
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the angel of warmth
pairing: yeonjun x gender neutral reader
genre: fluff with comfort!
word count: 3k
age rating: mature - mdni
tags: pet names, implied sex, reader was going through a shitty breakup
The morning air came with a chill bite, but it stood no chance against the pleasant heat radiating from the sleeping angel next to you. Yeonjun was like a mug of hot chocolate; warm and sweet, comforting in the cold, cozy, so delectable you wished you could drink him. So you tried to, in any way possible, turning toward him and wrapping your arms around his waist to spoon him, and gently kissing the spot where his neck met his back. He stirred slightly from the sensation, but was definitely still asleep. You could probably fall back asleep too, if you wanted to, but the mug in your arms was comforting in a way that you felt you had to be awake to fully appreciate. So you nestled your cheek against his back and gently tangled your legs with his, drinking in his warmth with your whole body through his soft blue sweatshirt and sweatpants. 
“Honey,” he said, and you could feel the depth of his morning voice in your cheek. He found your hand and slotted his fingers between yours, his palm against the back of your hand. “Honey, you’re so comfy.”
“You’re so comfy, angel,” you said.
“But it’s not fair,” he said, and you could hear the pout in his voice. “You could keep me in bed forever.”
“Lucky you, we both have the day off.” 
“Thank god,” he said with a sigh, and pressed his back against you more. He hummed happily. 
Yeonjun wasn’t always there in the mornings, but he always happened to be there when you needed him the most. You’d been scared about the one-year anniversary since the terrible breakup you went through last winter — you’d never felt colder and more alone when it happened. Things had fallen apart with so little warning that you always worried everything was always capable of falling apart so suddenly the same way, again and again, no matter how good things seemed to be going. 
But right then and there, you were just happy to have someone this wonderful in your arms. 
“How are you feeling, honey?” He asked knowingly. 
Yeonjun was the first person you called after the breakup. You had been so distraught that you left your shared apartment with your now-ex into the heavy chill of an early winter evening in just the sweatshirt and pants you’d already been wearing to wander in the night and try to clear your head, your now-ex’s car now off-limits, and called the first person you could think of. 
Yeonjun was your closest friend in this city; you met at a painting club when you thought you should take it up as a new hobby. Of course, you weren’t very good, because you’d never been much of an artist, but it seemed like the intimidatingly gorgeous man next to you already had a background in art and was picking it up really quickly. You quickly discovered that he wasn’t actually intimidating — when you struggled and got discouraged, he would give you little tips and encouragement, and brighten your mood with his smile and the faint scent of whatever soap or perfume he had that smelled like sweet cinnamon. Things had blossomed into friendship after you kept coming back to the painting club week after week, always sitting next to the handsome face you knew would encourage you. You thought maybe that was just his personality, maybe he was always this nice to everyone, but he didn’t interact with the other people in the club nearly as much as he talked to you. You exchanged numbers one day when you knew you’d be gone on a trip with your partner the following week, so that he could send you a picture of his own painting of the week when he finished it. 
So when your life started falling apart before your eyes with your ex in the center of it, it was instinctual to call him first. He’d known you were dating someone happily, and he knew a few base level details about your life, but nothing vulnerable that would have warranted him driving out into the city to pick you up so you could stay at his apartment for the time being — which is what he did. 
“You don’t have to show me your pity,” you’d said when you sat down in the passenger seat, “you didn’t have to do this.” But when you arrived at his apartment, he gave you a blanket, a warm sweatshirt fresh from the dryer, and he washed a bowl of blueberries for you to eat with honey while he made you hot chocolate. 
Of course, all you could do that night was cry; on and off, on and off, while Yeonjun stayed by your side. “You don’t have to do this, it’s not necessary,” you kept repeating, but you put on the sweatshirt, you clung to the blanket wrapped around your shoulders, you ate the blueberries and honey, and you sipped the thermos of hot chocolate. 
If you’d known him better at the time, you would have spilled your guts, and vomited out all the hurt you were feeling and all of the terrible things your ex had just spewed at you before shutting you out completely. But you were scared to talk and look at all of it, scared to acknowledge what had happened even though the consequences of it were following you at every moment, and you didn’t even know where to start; so you sat on his couch and cried for hours, and he never left your side except to make you another hot chocolate once you had finished the thermos. 
He offered to hug you that night, once. But you weren’t really keen on people touching you other than romantic partners, especially when you felt as vulnerable as you did in that moment. Even someone as beautiful as him. You explained this to him, minus the beautiful part, and he made sure to keep a line drawn between you that wouldn’t be crossed except for you reaching for the tissue box in his hands.
When you moved to this city to live with your partner, you didn’t know anyone else. You were ready to start a fresh new life, away from your toxic past and the ghosts of terrible people haunting you, so you could meet new people and find a happier life with your partner. But you always struggled making friends, and Yeonjun was the only person you’d managed to befriend in the full year since you’d moved here, aside from your ex’s friends that probably wouldn’t want to talk to you anymore. Yeonjun was the only person you had now in this city. Sure, there was your boss at work and your coworkers who knew you, but they weren’t the type of people you’d prefer to spend your free time around. 
The day after the breakup, your ex made it clear you were no longer welcome in the apartment, and gave you one day to move out. With nowhere else to go, Yeonjun cleared up a corner in his apartment for you to put the few things you decided to take with you, and told you his couch was yours to sleep in for as long as you needed it. You reiterated that he didn’t need to pity you, didn’t need to sacrifice space in his own home or take time out of his day to make sure you were okay, but he just shook his head and did it anyway. 
The morning of day three at his apartment and day three of you calling out of work, you finally asked before he left for work for the day. “You barely know me. Why are you doing all this for me?”
He clicked his tongue. “It’s not like we’re strangers; you’re my friend, of course I would want to help you during a tough time. And who else would? You said you don’t really have other friends in the city,” he said, and you frowned. “You have a good soul. It shines through your paintings, it’s clear in your attitude. You deserve good things.” You wanted to argue, but you knew it wouldn’t be fair. If he wanted to help you, that was his choice. It’s not like you had begged him for help or anything, either; all you had asked was for him to be a listening ear about your breakup. 
He stuck some bread in the toaster oven, left blueberry jam, butter, and honey on the table, and left for work. “I’ll make you another hot chocolate tonight,” he said.
That night, when he put down the thermos of hot chocolate on the coffee table in front of you, you said quietly, “can I ask for a hug now?” The temperature outside was dropping day by day, and every moment you spent alone you could feel yourself dropping, too.
“Of course,” he said, and he sat down on the couch next to you to hug you; this is when you discovered how it wasn’t just his soul that was warm. You buried your face in his chest, trying not to cry again, feeling frail and weak, clinging to the warm body in front of you that was holding you tight in his arms. 
“They were sick of me,” you finally admitted, still hiding your face in his chest. “They had all these problems with me and never brought them up even once. Never gave me the chance to fix them. Just got fed up and gave up, no second chances. And now they’re gone. I keep thinking that maybe if I give them time, it’ll click and they’ll realize how unfair they’re being to me, that maybe they’ll learn to communicate their frustrations in a healthy way,” you said. Yeonjun rubbed your back slowly. “It hurts. How could they just hide how much they were growing to hate me until it was too late? I thought we were fine and dandy, I thought maybe I’d propose to them next year. But they let their frustrations fester so much that they decided nothing was worth saving.” You were quiet for a moment. “Even if they did realize they’re in the wrong, no matter how long I waited, I don’t think they’d come back to me.” It stung like hell to admit, but you felt it to be true deep in your bones. 
“I think it’s for the best,” Yeonjun said slowly. “You deserve someone who cares enough about your relationship to put effort into keeping it healthy. You deserve to be cherished, not tolerated. And you deserve the opportunity to grow.”
You let him hold you like that for a long time, soaking in his temperature and letting him comfort you. It was the first time you’d let anyone other than a partner hug you in years. He still smelled like cinnamon, too, especially from up close, and you realized it was his perfume scent. You’d spotted the bottle in his bathroom before but hadn’t thought to look closely at it.
“Cinnamon,” you said, without explanation, just trying to ground yourself in the moment. 
“Do you want cinnamon in your hot chocolate? I have cinnamon sugar.”
You pulled away from him to look at his face, the low lighting in the room casting shadows on his face that emphasized his perfect features. Maybe he really was an angel. You drank cinnamon hot chocolate that night, and he made it for you like that from then on. 
On morning number four, Yeonjun accidentally slept in late. Couldn’t sleep from work stress, he’d said. You watched him make himself a coffee and pour it into a travel mug he’d take to work. 
“You always make me hot chocolate, but you make coffee for yourself,” you pointed out. You felt like there should be a question behind the statement, but you couldn’t figure out which question to ask. Did he not like hot chocolate? And if so, why did he always make it for you? He never offered coffee, did he think you didn’t like it? Why was hot chocolate his first instinct to make for you when he picked you up from the middle of the city that night?
“My mom used to make me hot chocolate when I had a bad day as a kid. I hope it’s comforting for you, too,” he said simply. “The coffee in the morning is to help me get through the day. And I’m really going to need the extra boost today.”
So that evening, when you knew Yeonjun would be home soon from work, you decided to make him a hot chocolate. You’d watched him do it enough times that by now you knew where the chocolate and the sugar was, and you knew which mug was his favorite, and you knew how long he warmed up the milk. So when he walked in and put his things down, exhausted and totally beat, you handed him the hot chocolate, and he just looked at you in surprise. 
“Can I hug you?” He asked, and you nodded and took him in your arms.
Yeonjun really was like an angel, one who’d fallen out of the sky to look after you in your hardest moment. You were looking at his face and your hands were on his back, but you swear you could almost see the halo and feel the feathers sprouting out from his back. 
You definitely thought of him as an angel when you were finally able to find a new apartment and he helped you move in, find new furniture, and get settled. 
You still thought of him as an angel every time you met at the painting club again and he offered his gentle words of advice and encouragement. 
You still thought of him as an angel a few months after the breakup when he spent the day after Valentine’s, what he called “St. Single’s Day,” driving you around the city and showing you his favorite spots, something your ex had never even done since they never seemed to have the energy to show you anything other than the bare minimum.
You still thought of him as an angel the third evening in a row you spent at his apartment that March, not even needing to ask what he wanted from the takeout place a few blocks away or if he was hungry in the first place, because of course he was hungry, the man had a black hole for a stomach; but this time when you came through the door with hands full of styrofoam containers of cheap Chinese food and he cracked a joke about you being a perfect partner, you felt your face flush. You caught yourself staring at the pout of his lips while he scrolled on his phone after all the food had been eaten during commercials in the middle of Wheel of Fortune.
You still thought of him as an angel that May when you kissed those lips for the first time on an evening walk by the river downtown, and he sighed happily into your mouth, his lips soft and eager and heavenly on yours, his hands gentle but wanting against your skin.
You still thought of him as an angel that August the first time you let his warm hands wander up your legs while you sat sideways in his lap watching a cheesy romcom on the couch, his fingers traveling slowly between your thighs, and then up to your waistband and down again inside your underwear while you gave him small encouraging kisses, his brown eyes drinking in the way you melted under his heat, clinging to him as you sighed his name into his ear over and over.
And you still thought of him as an angel now, on the one year anniversary since your ex broke up with you. 
“I feel warm,” you answered, and noticed the morning light from the window shining a backlight on Yeonjun’s golden hair. He turned to face you. His hair was perfectly tousled from sleep, in a way that you wished you could preserve its perfectness and its soft backlit shine in your memory like a picture. But you also wanted to touch it, so you reached behind his ear and tangled your fingers in his hair to pet him. This made him smile, his soft cheeks plumping up in the most kissable way. So you did; you leaned in and kissed his cheek, and he turned his face until he caught your lips with his own, and pulled you close. You kissed him eagerly, wrapping your legs around his, and he tugged your hair gently in response.
It still hurt, though. Being abandoned the way you were abandoned last year doesn’t just heal in an instant, or even a full year. You still felt hesitant to call Yeonjun your boyfriend; even just saying the word still made you feel terrified. 
Yeonjun could sense your thoughts start to wander through your kisses. “Hey,” he said softly, breaking away, and ran his thumb over your cheek. “Hot chocolate?” He offered. He hadn’t made it for you in several months.
“With cinnamon, please,” you said, and he got up.
“All I ask from you in return is to not let the bed get cold,” he said. 
“Aye, aye,” you said, and sprawled your body across the soft sheets. 
You wished it was easy to just let the past go. You wished it was easier to just move on from the pain. You weren’t sure where the future would take you, but you hoped it involved blueberries, honey, hot chocolate, cinnamon, and the angel of warmth that fell from heaven.
a/n: thank you for reading my first fic on tumblr! this was totally self indulgent so i hope it was enjoyable in some way to you too :) let me know if you liked it!
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ehlnofay · 6 months ago
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Pax should have said no.
Damn it all, they should have said no. Should have said go to hell and fucked off back – stop contacting me, sort out your own shit – but they didn’t, fuck knows why, and now they’re stuck here.
(They know why. They know exactly why; absolutely anything would be better than fucking off back to Cyrodiil. What’s for them there?)
But there’s nothing worth staying for here either, and now she’s crammed in between strangers on a long table, everyone dressed in fabrics she’s never seen with dyes so saturated they seem almost gory, eating stuff that isn’t food and talking loud enough to make her want to hurl a glass into the wall. It’s bizarre. The woman next to her, ruddy-faced and bald, wears a headpiece that shines like the sun the Isles doesn’t have; the other side is taken up by a stranger in a bone-white porcelain mask who has not moved but to swill the wine around in their glass. There’s scarcely room for Pax’s chair. It all feels like such a baffling pantomime of aristocracy (she's known the real thing well enough – feasts and toasts and luxurious gifts she had no use for, and if she doesn’t stop thinking about it she actually will throw a glass), bright colours and rich settings and a god taking offerings at the head of the table.
At least, Pax thinks, no-one tries to talk to him; they’re too busy fawning over their lord. Which is probably to be expected; but it all feels so strange, so unsettling, the way they all lean in towards it like flowers turning to face the sun, like seaweed dragged at by the inescapable pull of the tides. They grow towards it through the cracks in the air, matter moving toward the inevitable centre, as if they can imagine nothing more than this.
(Even more unsettling is the way it responds in kind, listening attentively to anyone who speaks to it, leaning in as though to kiss them, as though to swallow them whole. All hell, why did Pax agree to this? Why did they come?)
(They should have told it to fuck off. Should have said no way, I don’t want to help you, don’t want to get involved in anything you’d need my help for. I don’t owe you anything. I don’t need anything from you. I don’t want anything to do with you. I’m done.)
(Pax is done. Pax is sick to death of all this shit; doesn’t want to deal with this, the vaguely described problems of a god that picks people apart like it’s unravelling a thick yarn shawl. Doesn’t want to deal with anything like this. He’s had his fill of gods.)
(Why is he still fucking here? Why did he agree to this? This is no better than eating in that weird fucking inn in town. This is no better than –)
(That’s a lie. It’s a bit better than Cyrodiil. Just as much a shithole, but it pulls the rug out from under him often enough that he doesn’t have time to think too much.)
“Not hungry?” says a prowling voice, coiling catlike into the plaits in their hair, and Pax jumps enough to jostle the masked bastard sitting ramrod straight next to him.
He looks up.
At the empty placemat across from him sits a figure veiled in gossamer, glittering in the glow of the lit-up lichen on the distant throne; the fabric of its endless shawls pulls apart at the ends, peeling away from itself, shedding patches like iridescent insect wings every time it shifts. If Pax squints, they can see through it to the grand marbled wall behind.
She glances back at the chair at the head of the table, where something lounges, eyes dripping gold, intricately carved cane laid across its knees; its too-many fingers are laced with the hand of a man whose gown blooms floral. Flatly, she says, “What the fuck?”
“Aren’t you hungry?” Sheogorath asks, pouting; she can hear it laughing down the other end of the table. “It’s a proper feast. We pulled out all the stops.”
Pax shifts their eyes away to peer down at their plate. “You have served me worms,” she says. She flicks the dish with a fingernail. “In jelly. With flowers.”
“Larva, actually,” Sheogorath replies. It’s still at the other end of the table. It doesn’t seem eager to explain this. When it smiles, the gossamer falls away; its whole face splits in half.
It’s all so fucking stupid. Pax takes a deep breath – in through the nose, ignore all the odd spiced smells, and out – and does not yell at it, or try to hit it, because she’s gotten herself into a situation where that’s not really an option, because she’s a fucking idiot. Why didn’t she just say no?
(She knows why.)
The Mad God’s teeth flash bright as the ornate silver cutlery. Its chair scrapes back from the table. “It melts in your mouth,” it tells her, eyes glittering, “but I won’t make you try it. Walk with me?”
The figure still sits at the head of the table, snatching something from someone’s plate, always, always laughing. Its limbs sprawl like tentacles, like the silken threads of a tapestry, to encompass the whole room. The dinner guests stare as though bewitched, bedevilled, beguiled. Not one of them is looking at Pax. If he were to drop dead with his face in the food his corpse would not be discovered until sunrise.
Pax sniffs and shoves his chair back from the table. He lets Sheogorath (the second Sheogorath – but it must be, what else could it be?) lead him through a narrow door into some winding hallway, the walls lined and rimed with ornate coloured-glass windows. (It’s so much quieter. Still as garishly bright, but Pax is getting the sense that that is inescapable, here; the clothes they wear, as crumpled and covered in travelling-grime as ever and startlingly out of place against the odd jagged finery of the dinner party, seem unimaginably dull in comparison. Everything seems unimaginably dull in comparison.) Outside the windows, they can catch glimpses of the city – its winding, lamp-lit streets, the jumbled mess of its architecture, the sky arcing above it like a child’s attempt at watercolours. Pax wants to smash it, tear it down.
There’s no sun here, but still it’s night. The sky has shifted to purple and black.
“Isn’t it nice?” says their companion; when they look back, it’s nothing more than a shifting impression in the stained-glass window, a series of hairline cracks. It still manages, somehow, to smile at them.
It’s not. The sky is a shadow and the flamboyance of the palace is scraping at their spine. “Sure,” Pax says flatly. When she flexes her fingers, the bruising staining the base knuckle of her thumb aches.
Sheogorath looks at her – an ancient man leaning on a stick, a flickering painting, a bloody corpse, a little girl in velvet-red skirts, a breath. In its mercurial shifting she catches the flowery blossom of the man at the table’s collar, an unpleasant glimpse of her own braided hair, the smell of sulphur. It tips its head. She can’t focus on it anywhere but for the eyes.
“You don’t like my dinner parties,” it announces, as though it’s a revelation, a tragedy; its body crumbles like sea cliffs slowly eroded by the ways. It’s annoying – bloody obnoxious, and incomprehensible, and kind of weird that it noticed, that it would even care. (She’s never liked dinner parties. Nobody ever commented on it before.)
I’ve had well enough of them, Pax could say, or no, I don’t like you, but it’s the fucking Mad God, Daedric Prince of – Pax doesn’t even know what, he’s never known much about this shit, only that it’s well worth avoiding. Prince of the mad and the missing and the foolish, of breaking and breaking and putting yourself back together backwards. She should have said no, but she didn’t, and who knows what would happen if she went back on that now?
It's slinking closer. All that stay static enough to make out are eyes and teeth.
“Pax, yes?” it says, soft-voiced – a hand lands on his arm, small and dry and shivering, the skin as thing as a mouldering leaf. “You have no obligations here. If you want to be on your own, be on your own. We’ve plenty of space for it.”
Pax’s eyes narrow. He does not jerk away from it.
In the light of the coloured sky, the coloured windows, its face is phantasmagorical. “If you don’t want to be here,” it continues – still so skin-pricklingly gentle – “then your hand will not be forced. I’ll speed your way home if you wish.”
They can’t help but twitch at that. It’s setting their teeth on edge. (It’s lying – has to be. After its ages of coaxing them in, meting out information, not telling them where they were until they were on its doorstep, it would not give them the chance to leave.) Rough, still covered in road-grime, Pax asks, “Why should I believe you?”
(None of them have ever given them the chance to leave.)
Sheogorath, a figure of hollow skin and bone, inclines its head. “I wouldn’t lie to you, Pax,” it says. Its eyes are wide and bulging, whites on full display like a frightened horse; it grins again. “Others might. But we’re not a monolith. We’re not even especially similar.”
Pax bites down on the flat edge of their tongue. “That doesn’t mean anything to me.”
The light coming in through the windows flickers. The Mad God turns to meet it.
“I’m the youngest,” it says, its voice glittering like mist on the air. “Did you know that? I don’t remember the world without you in it.” Its form spasms, volatile, wings and limbs and eyes like a snail’s on stalks sprouting and choking and subsiding back into its mass. “I’m closer to you than any. I understand, almost.”
“That doesn’t mean anything,” Pax repeats. She’s gritting her teeth, tonguing at her gums where two are missing. Are two devil-gods not enough to deal with for a lifetime? Is there really going to be more of this now, too?
Rolling through the air like smoke, the voice says, “It will.”
Pax presses purple-green knuckles to her mouth. Her teeth dig into the soft meat of her lip.
Sheogorath turns to face her, hair moving as though blown by the wind, as though tugged by the tides. It sighs. “You don’t believe me,” it says. Its tongue pokes through its teeth. “That’s perfectly fine. Clever, even. But if you want to leave, all you need to do is tell me so.” It pauses, then; the train of its strange, gnarled crown shifts over its shoulders when it moves its head. “Or just leave. The door is still open.”
“You’d be fine with me just leaving,” Pax rasps around his knuckle, “after weeks of not leaving me alone?”
(Of begging him to come, poorly-hidden agitation giving way to blatant franticness, half-swallowing the fear that choked its face in every mirror it spoke to him through. Of begging him still, after he got here, after he met it – begging in a roundabout manner, casual as anything, its every motion reeking of fear. Its abject terror when he turned to leave. You’ve come this far. Why not hear an old man out? Pax told it that it wasn’t an old man, that he didn’t give a shit either way, and it slid through a child, a monster, a sulphur-burned body coughing blood, his own shuddering form in armour he hasn’t seen in months, and it said please.)
(Regained its composure, its gentleman’s face, immediately afterward. But it – the Mad God, unknowable, inconsolable – said please. Pax still doesn’t know what to do with that.)
The Mad God, now, shrugs. Taps at the hairline cracks in the stained glass windows. “I’d prefer you didn’t,” it says, one pair of hands braiding something intricate into its beard. The hand on the glass slips down. “I told you. I do need a champion.”
“And I told you,” Pax bites, something aching and ugly surging in their gut, “not to call me that again.”
A smile, bloody-mouthed and beaming. “But we will abide,” says Sheogorath, and digs its fingers into the cracks of the stone. One brick slides loose, mortar dug up under its nails. It offers it up.
Pax licks their teeth and takes it.
The brick shivers, momentarily – crumbles, in their hand, like sand slithering through their fingers, and left in their palm is a hardy slip of bone. Spiked and sprawling, carved with intricate patterns; it arranges itself around an oval of empty space, the perfect size for four sharp-knuckled fingers.
“You can always leave,” the Mad God tells them, and for a moment it does look so very young and strangely, staggeringly hopeful. “But give it a chance. I think you could love the Isles, if you choose to.”
#for context - in my version of events sheogorath's recruitment of the HoK is a lot more active#it needs someone who can fulfill the metaphysical niche of the hero. it needs someone experienced enough that they might not even die tryin#and it needs someone desperate enough to take the deal#pax is fifteen years old has alienated everything that maybe could have been a support system and is grieving very badly.#perfect mantling material!!#so sheogorath pursued them very specifically and was very judicious about what they revealed when. which is why pax already has some kind o#relationship with it here - they've interacted before - in that for weeks pax's reflection has been constantly begging them to 'visit'#writing the interactions of these guys is a lot of fun because there is always so much sheogorath is keeping from pax. it is#extremely strategic in how it presents itself#and pax falls for it hook line and sinker. though we can't really blame them#it's hard to outsmart something that's in your head#and at this point pax is pretty much made up of their worst impulses#which sheogorath cannot and does not help with#see: this piece#“I would NEVER make you do something you don't want to do <3 if you'd like to go back to your miserable self-destructive hellscape that's#YOUR CHOICE. but wouldn't it be more fun to be regular destructive here... i made you brass knuckles... 🥺“#im obsessed with them#the elder scrolls#tesblr#tes#my writing#fay writes#oc tag#pax#oblivion#shivering isles#the shivering isles
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scattered-winter · 4 months ago
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every day i kick a rock and bash my head into the wall because i'll never get to go on a big space adventure and become tightly close-knit with my new found family up there <//3
#re lrb..........#i mean realistically if i was in the voltron/quintenary stars universe chances are i would probably NOT be one of the people#going on the space adventure.#i'd be roped into the plot when the aliens invade and earth almost gets destroyed. spoilers for arc 2 btw sorry#but man. child soldierism aside i wish that were me so so so bad#sadly kicks a rock when will EYE have a deep and mystical connection with a giant ancient cat :(#its not even that i want to interact with the main cast bc i dont really i just. wanna be in their position man#i think one of the reasons why voltron grabbed me so hard (among MANY) is how badly i wanted to do what the main characters did#i remember when i was first watching it while it was coming out i would CONSISTENTLY daydream about being launched into space#with a handful of other people and having to fight a war and grow up far away from home and all the suffocating stuff that came with it#and then coming back years later already solidly knowing who i am and being confident in that#so i'd actually be brave enough to be unapologetic about it. and i'd be found family with the people i went to space with also#that parts important#idk man just. i dont like saying i was abused when i was younger because i really dont think it was like that and it isnt even close to#what how people who have really been abused have had to go through#but sometimes i really do wonder. like now that im (mostly) out and able to review everything with an outside perspective#not even getting into the cult survivorism stuff this is JUST family dynamics im talking about here#bc that shit is a whole other can of worms#i think my parents were genuinely doing the best they could with the cards they were dealt but. jesus christ.#i would have given ANYTHING to be able to run away from all that. and throw magic cats into the equation? brother im GONE#anyway this tags ramble has derailed in a MAJOR way. tldr i wanted to be a paladin sooooo fuckign bad bro#like it actually makes me SICK how much i want a lion. red you are my forever girl even if only in my heart <///3#i still do want to do all that out of principle but its not as desperate now i just really love space and really want a big kitty friend#winter speaks
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titan-god-helios · 1 year ago
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fuck, audhd burnout is a bitch.
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the-starlight-papers · 1 year ago
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I’m working on an au that has time travel in it and then got distracted trying to work out consistent rules for time travel and changing the past and now I’ve written multiple pages of time travel explanation with diagrams and stuff.
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leatherbookmark · 1 year ago
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all this time i've been covering my ears going LALALALALA pretending that ~virtual idols~ don't exist and this is what you do to me? and hongjoong and yunho? please never fucking do that again it's an insult to them and real life actual human idols in general
#not to mention that like... with the introduction of virtual idols who aren't REAL and don't have feelings... idols you can't hurt and whose#rights you don't have to respect... i don't know how korean kpop fans will react and i dearly hope the vr idol thing will flop hard but who#fucking knows with a/e/s/p/a being wildly popular#in recent years with the appearance of those apps that have you pay money to 'subscribe' to idols' posts or for a chance of them seeing and#replying to your message... as though the relationship between fans and idols wasn't already transactional as fuck. as if some fans#weren't already treating idols as vending machines for fanservice#NOW you're adding glorified 3d models who could technically do everything and work all day. i would love to be able to confidently say#it's not going to affect real idols' working conditions but i'm not that optimistic#not to mention that like... it's such an obvious cash grab/save move that i'm nauseous#japanese idol franchises at least have them be actual characters who interact with each other and have backstories. they exist WITHIN their#story. when i saw that fucking girls something thing he/ejin participated in i was so embarrassed because its like. oh shes from a planet#of mice and she dreams of building a second moon out of cheese. this kinda level shit. it's pathetic#and poor hongjoong and yunho have to fucking. michael jordan in space jam this shit when they just signed up to sing and dance#honest to god i hate it so much. i want to say make this shit FLOP but everyone said the same thing about n/f/ts and yet korea lived it for#like a year. headdesk as they used to say#shrimp thoughts#also they're just ugly.
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killmebythebeach · 2 years ago
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What if I made like two or three big posts just explaining some dnd characters and what they've been up to that I reblog to share what I'm doing and what in hyperfixatinv on right now. What then.
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arolesbianism · 1 month ago
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I have obtained a new oc and in the process I've already signed myself up for needing to make at least 3 new ocs for his story which he now has despite me initially Intending for him to be a side character for a different side character to hang out with. My townhouse has over 200 characters on it.
#rat rambles#oc posting#he doesn't have an official name yet but he is my silly billy and I love him#also take every him with an asterisk again he's like super new (I just got him today)#although several elements of his story so far have been things Ive been wanting to do for a while so thats a part of why I have so many#ideas for him already since its some stuff I've been wanting to play around with for a while#the real reason he has a chokehold on me rn is that I tripped and made him my 500 thousanth character with identity issues#I <3 characters with a fucked up relationship with their sense of self and what it even means to be themself#oh hes also a magic cat world character because thats what like 90% of my ocs are from at this point lol#and another goop related guy but this time not directly related to every other goop guy#he doesnt interact with any of them or even know most of them exist#long story short hes a robot who used to not be a robot but remembers nothing abt his life before he turned himself into a robot#all he has as reference is a mostly ruined journal his past self kept that is almost entirely unreadable due to it getting soaked in goop#he knows that this was self inflicted and his approximate age but that's abt it in terms of useful information#early story is mostly just him traveling alone trying to see if anyone nearby knows who he is but after going through like 5 or so towns he#starts to get more worried and upset about the whole situation and starts trying to look into some different missing person reports in#hopes that he can find one of himself#he runs out of the savings he had on him pretty quickly though so he had to figure out how to stay afloat while doing his research#'luckily' he meets a man while looking into one case he found who was willing to let him stick around at his place while looking into it#this guy had some investment in these dissapearances because he suspected that they related to his father and hoped to find any sort of#window in what he was up to since he hadnt seen him since he ran away at around 17#spoilers his dad is cake this is still connected to cake nonsense because everything in this world fucking does but the main boy himself#actually has no ties to cake or his activities so thats smth at least#but yeah long story short things get. real bad for my boy after the first few months of staying at this guy's place.#yknow how risa in the future was often used as a weapon of war using some unstable chemicals? yeah guess where that started.#mr daddy issue haver over here may understand that his dad is a bad person but evidently that doesnt stop him from being not much better#currently Im planning on having main boy escape eventually and get stuck in the non magic world where he meets april but that could change#it depends on if I want him to interact with the other stories going on at all or not#I probably wont but I would like to leave myself some wiggle room to let him meet more side characters#like (looks with big sad wet eyes) ginger maybe? please? please april? let me see your sister? that you havent seen in years? please?
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imaginedisish · 3 months ago
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Lover, You Should've Come Over (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)
A/N: Get ready to cry. This is based on a request I received yesterday where the reader gets jealous of Jean. I tried to take this in a different direction just because I feel like this is a popular trope that has been done by many fantastic writers. It's also inspired by "Lover, You Should've Come Over," by Jeff Buckley. Hope you guys enjoy.
Summary: You've been pining after Logan since you joined the X-Men, and you're convinced he'll never love you back. He’s obsessed with Jean—always has been. Or...maybe he's not.
Warnings: SMUT 18+ MINORS DNI, Oral (f!receiving), fingering, PIV (unprotected...pls WRAP IT UP THIS IS FICTION!), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, f!reader/afab!reader, telepathic!reader, cocky!Logan, softdom!Logan (kinda? yeah.), non-canon compliant (you'll see what I mean...no spoilers), cursing, angst, feelings, implied mutant trauma (kinda a given in X-Men), probably some grammatical errors, I think that's it.
Word Count: 4,197 sorry
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Wanting someone you can’t have—it’s that crying in the shower, pulling your legs into your chest, screaming into your pillow kind of heartache. You’ve come to know the feeling intimately. It’s an awful, horrid, stomach-churning kind of pain.
But you want him. Despite all the pain, you want him. Logan Howlett. You can’t seem to keep him off your mind. For the few months you’ve been one of the X-Men, Logan has been a constant. He’s always there—whether it’s to train or just to talk. But you know he’ll never want you. You see the way he looks at Jean. You wish you didn’t. You wish you were oblivious to that sort of thing. But you don’t need to use your telepathy to reach inside his mind for proof—you just know. 
You keep holding on, savoring every moment, every interaction you have with Logan. You sit on the lawn of the mansion with him, watching the sunset. You’ll come down to the living room late at night to find him sitting in front of the T.V. and join him. Sometimes he’ll drape an arm around your shoulder. He’ll draw circles into your side as you drift off. You’ll wake up the next morning back in your bed, Logan having carried you there long after you’ve fallen asleep. 
You’ve decided you’ll take all he’ll give you, even if it means nothing to him—even if it's platonic. 
But tonight, you wish something would come up through the floor and swallow you whole. A void, a black hole maybe. That would do the trick. Disappearing would make everything so much easier. The second-best thing to disappearing is sitting in the kitchen of the mansion, alone, with a pint of ice cream. You decide to practice your powers, moving the silver spoon with your mind, concentrating as you dig the spoon into the top of the pint and into your mouth. 
You hear a warm, familiar chuckle from the doorway as the spoon lands on your tongue. You look up, and there’s Logan, arms tucked across his chest. “Wish I could do that.”
You can’t help but smile around the spoon as he strides over to you, taking a seat on the stool next to yours. You slide the spoon out of your mouth and rest it on the napkin next to the ice cream. “Hey,” you mutter, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. 
His shoulder brushes against yours. He’s so close it hurts. You try to shove the pain down and enjoy the moment. 
“Was hoping I’d run into you down here. Thought maybe you’d be in bed already,” Logan says, his eyes locked on yours. 
You shake your head, doing your best to keep that fake smile plastered on your face. “Couldn’t sleep.” 
You can see the sudden concern appear on his face. “Everything okay?” He asks, tilting his head to the side. Fuck, you think to yourself. Maybe he’s catching on. 
“Yeah,” you murmur, looking down at the ice cream. “Just still having a hard time adjusting.” It wasn’t a lie. You had always struggled with your powers, longing to hide, to shove them down. Your whole life, you were either a freak or something to be used—whatever was most convenient in the moment. The struggle between visibility and forcing yourself to be “normal” was an impossible battle. You were no stranger to being taken advantage of or being experimented on.
Logan was the first person who understood that—understood you. He made you feel seen in a way that no one ever had. It’s part of the reason you’ve fallen so hard for him. 
His hand is suddenly on your back, yanking you from your thoughts and back to reality. “I’m here,” he whispers. “Whatever you need, anything.” 
Anything. You wish he really meant it. 
“Thanks, Lo.” You smile up at him, letting your eyes linger on his lips for just a second before looking back down at the ice cream. “Want some?” You ask, nodding at the pint. 
“Only if you feed it to me the way you did when I walked in.” You can hear the smirk in his voice as he taps the spoon. You side-eye him incredulously. “I mean it. Wanna see you do it again.” There’s a husk in his voice, a shift in his timber that sends a chill down your spine. You try not to think about it too much as you pick up the spoon with your mind. 
You guide the spoon inside the pint, scraping the top, and lifting it up towards Logan’s mouth. He opens wide as you lead the spoon inside, his tongue hitting the bottom as his lips close around it. The implications of the moment don’t dawn on you until he’s grabbing the spoon with his hands and sucking on the metal. There’s something undeniably suggestive about this. 
Heat rises to your chest as you replay the image of him taking the spoon into his mouth in your mind. It’s so intimate, so domestic. And, certainly, something else—something that makes you tick, that makes that familiar fire grow deep within your belly. 
But—like always—the moment doesn’t last long. You wince, feeling someone itching against your thoughts, prodding at your mental shields, begging to be let in. Suddenly, there’s another voice in your mind. 
I gotta try that myself. You flinch at the sound, taking the spoon from Logan’s hand and shooting it across the room to where you sense the person’s presence. You turn around, and there’s Jean, resisting the spoon’s trajectory with her mind. 
It's almost pressing into her skull, shaking in mid-air, ready to break her skin. You gasp and drop the spoon, embarrassed to have registered her as a threat. “I’m so sorry,” you say, watching as Jean crouches down and picks up the spoon. “I didn’t know that was you in there, I swear.”
You expect Logan to stand from the chair and rush over to Jean, but he stays next to you, glued to your side, the palm of his hand resting gently on your back. “Jean.” His voice is firm, almost cold and harsh. “What was that?” You’re surprised at how curt he’s being with her, surprised he remembered that you’re sensitive to people probing around your mind, even if it’s friendly. 
Jean mutters a curse. “I was just communicating with her. I didn’t think she’d—” 
Logan stands, his hand still steady at your back. “Don’t do that again. Ever.” His voice is louder now, heavier. 
She whispers an apology, setting the spoon on the counter and walking towards the doorway. “I really didn’t mean to hurt you,” she says. “I should’ve remembered given your…” she pauses, searching for the word, “past…that it wouldn’t be a good idea.” She takes another tentative step. “I’ll leave you two alone,” she says, and she slips out. 
Logan settles back into the stool next to you. You’re shocked that he’s still here, that he hasn’t run away yet. You can hear him breathe—in and out—gentle, long breaths. You close your eyes and listen, the sound calming you down. You’re still expecting him to leave, to walk away, but he doesn’t. 
“You okay?” He asks, your eyes fluttering open, his voice hanging in the air. His head is tilted to the side, worry painted across his face. 
“Y-yeah. I’m fine,” you stutter, your voice cracking. “You don’t have to stay with me. You can go check on her if you want.” You nod towards the doorway—to wherever Jean wandered off to. 
“And why would I do that?” Is all he says in return, furrowing his brows. 
You put on that fake smile again. “I almost jammed a spoon into her forehead because she spoke to me telepathically.” You shake your head. “Don’t really think my reaction was particularly friendly—or something that good people do.” You break eye contact with Logan and look to the other side of the kitchen. “Plus, you two are…close.”
“Hey.” His voice is firm again, but gentle this time, reassuring. His hand slips across your back and rests on your waist. You’re so shocked by the contact that you almost miss what he says. “First of all, she knows better. Charles warned her about what you’ve been through. And second…” He trails off, smirking at you. “I’d rather be with you.”
Oh? Oh. He’d rather be with you. 
“I just thought, you know, you and Jean were…” You’re too embarrassed to finish the sentence and too nervous to hear him say the words you’ve been dreading most. 
He shakes his head, that smirk still spread across his lips. “No, it’s not Jean I want. Never has been.” 
Your breathing becomes shaky—your heart beating rapidly in your chest. “If it’s not Jean, then—” 
Logan cuts you off as he suddenly moves. His arm lifts from your waist as he stands, turning your stool around so your back is against the cold countertop. He’s gripping the arms of the stool now, caging you in. Your mind is hazy—you can’t concentrate with him this close. 
“You think I do the shit I do with you with Jean too, hm?” He’s towering over you, his head cocking to the side, his voice self-assured and confident. “Think I’m watching movies and sunsets with her? Carrying her to bed, too?” 
You’re overwhelmed, dizzied by his words, his size, him. “Just thought that—”
“Just thought what?” He cuts you off again. “That I didn’t want you, darlin’?” He brings his lips to the shell of your ear, one hand moving from the counter to your hip. “Wanted you this whole time,” he huffs, goosebumps rising on your arms. “Only you.” He presses a kiss to your ear, and then just underneath your jaw. 
“Logan,” you whisper. “W-want you too,” you choke out, your hands coming up and around his back. “B-but someone’s gonna walk in on us.” 
He’s ignoring you, biting your pulse point lightly and licking the pain away. “Let them,” he husks, refusing to stop. You instinctively bring your hands up to the nape of his neck, your nails digging in slightly. He groans at the contact, his chest heaving against yours. 
“One of the kids is catch us in here, or somebody else,” you mutter, his face still buried in the crook of your neck. “W-we should—”
“Go to my room.” He finishes your thought. 
“Please.” 
And then he’s picking you up from the chair, his hands under your thighs, grabbing your ass. You wrap your legs around his waist as he prowls out of the kitchen. He looks both ways as he crosses the hallway and makes his way to the stairs. There’s no one in sight. He carries you up the steps and down the hall to his room, practically breaking down the door as he swings it open and slams it shut. 
And then he’s laying you down on his bed, crawling over you, pressing his forehead against yours. “Wanted you in here sooner,” he murmurs, his lips just inches from yours. “Hoped you’d come over one night. You should’ve.”
His lips crash down onto yours before you can find the words to say. He’s starving for you, swallowing your moans as his hands slip under your shirt, his nails digging lightly into your sides. “So fucking beautiful,” he rasps against your lips. Everything is desperate and rushed, hands pawing at bare skin in the dim light of his room. 
Logan tugs on the hem of your shirt, rolling it up your body and over your head. He tosses it to the side as he sits up on his knees, taking you in. He curses under his breath, looking you up and down. 
“Logan,” you whine, arching your back. You need his hands on you again, his lips. Something. Anything. 
“I know, pretty girl,” he soothes, his fingers hooking inside the waistband of your shorts. “Gonna take care of you.” He yanks them down your legs, leaving you in just your bra and panties. 
He pulls off his own shirt, tossing it carelessly, letting it get lost on the floor. He settles back down over you, balancing on his forearm as his free hand finds your waist. He slides up to the bottom of your bra, teasingly pulling on the fabric before slipping his hand behind your back—skillfully unclasping the bra with one easy motion. You arch your back again, the bra straps sliding down your arms as Logan tosses the bra to the floor, too. 
“Fuck,” he mumbles, his hand tracing the curves of your breasts, massaging gently. “Perfect.” He captures your lips in another kiss as his thumb ghosts over your nipples, just barely giving you the relief you need before pinching softly. The pressure feels so good, so right, but it’s not enough. 
He draws circles around your nipples with his thumb, the sensation feeding the aching fire between your legs. Your hips involuntarily lift off the mattress, meeting his. “Need me that bad, huh?” He is always so incredibly cocky, even now—especially now. He knows exactly what he’s doing to you, and what to do next. 
Logan grinds his erection into your core. You can feel how big he is, the weight of him heavy against your cunt even in his jeans. You clench around nothing, whining his name as his strained cock teases your panty-clad pussy. “You want me to make you feel good, pretty girl?”
“Y-yes,” you stutter, biting your lips as his hand leaves your tits and sweeps down your stomach, stopping just above your clit. He slides his fingers down just a bit more, feeling where your arousal seeps through your panties. 
“Already soaking for me, sweetheart.” The bassy timber of his voice stokes that flame deep within your belly. Without warning, he’s hooking his fingers into the waistband of your panties and yanking them down your legs. “Can’t wait anymore, pretty girl,” he whispers. “Wanna taste this pussy.” He kisses your belly button, leaving a trail down the rest of your stomach as his mouth travels to where you need him most. 
There’s something depraved about the way he’s crawling down your body, taking in every inch of you. He spreads your legs apart with the palms of his hands—his thumbs brushing against your bare skin, licking teasingly at your inner thighs as he settles in between them. 
He pauses, looking at you under hooded eyes. You can see the want—no, the need—in the way his muscles flex and how he works his jaw. But he’s hesitating, his breath hot against your core, sending another jolt of desire through your body. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, your eyes searching his for his next move. 
He finally presses a kiss to your clit. “You don’t understand how you make me feel,” he mumbles against your heat, licking a long stripe through your folds and back to your clit. “No idea how long I’ve fucking wanted you.” You throw your head back, whimpering his name as he laps again and again. He’s starving, and you’re the only thing that can satiate his hunger. His tongue swirls around your clit, flicking it, taking it in between his lips and sucking hard. 
Your hips lift off the mattress and Logan quickly moves to hold them down. “You’re not going anywhere, darlin’,” he grunts against you, the vibration of his voice going straight to your core. 
His free hand slips up the inside of your thighs, teasingly climbing higher and higher, his nails skimming your flesh. He’s toying with you, leading you on, taking his time. His fingers finally ghost over your folds, exploring you, stroking up and down as his tongue laps at your cunt. 
Logan prods your entrance with two fingers, slipping in just a bit, testing the waters. “Please,” you beg, pushing your hips down in an attempt to sink his fingers deeper into you. He stops you, his hand still firmly holding your hips down, refusing to give you the release you’re dying for. 
“So fucking impatient, aren’t you?” He tuts. And then he’s shoving two fingers all the way inside you, down to his knuckles. “Such a pretty pussy.”
“F-fuck!” You cry out, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he sets a relentless pace. He’s drinking you in, sucking roughly, his long fingers pumping in and out with a vengeance. 
“’This what you wanted, pretty girl?” He asks condescendingly in between laps. You’re too fucked out to form a sentence, your legs trembling underneath him. You know he’s loving this—loving that you’re a wet, needy, whimpering mess. 
Your walls squeeze around his fingers, your swollen clit throbbing as he laps at you. You’re so close already. “Lo,” you call out, fisting the sheets of his bed. Everything in here smells like him: pine and mint and musk and tobacco and that thing that’s uniquely Logan. It’s all so overwhelming and overstimulating. You’re ready to fall apart, to melt into nothingness. “S-so close.”
He squeezes your hip. “I know, sweetheart,” he soothes, his pace unwavering as his fingers fuck into you, scissoring inside you, drawing you closer to your climax with that come-hither motion he does so well. Your walls flutter again. “That’s it,” he coos. “Wanna feel you come—wanna know what it tastes like.” He licks harder, faster. “Let go for me, darlin’.” 
He pushes you over the edge, pleasure warming your belly as you let go. It washes over you in waves, his fingers still pumping in and out, his tongue still hanging on to the taste of you. You ride it out, his thumb brushing your hip, coaxing you through it. His fingers slip out of your cunt, but his head is still buried between your legs. You shudder as he licks long, slow stripes through your folds. 
“So fucking sweet,” he growls, still starving for more. “Not done with you yet.”
Fuck. 
But you need more—need his cock deep inside you, pounding into you. You need him in front of you, his lips on yours. 
“Logan,” you whine, your voice shaky and trembling just like the rest of your body. He finally lifts his head, his hair a disheveled mess, your juices glistening on his lips and his chin. The sight of him makes your breath hitch in your throat. There’s a feral, needy look in his eyes. He’s starving for more of you, and you’re not quite sure he’ll ever get enough. 
But he can see your chest heaving and the desire in your own eyes. He knows what you need—he always does. He sits up on his knees, staring at you while he slowly unbuckles his belt. The tension is palpable, the clinking of his belt against the hardwood floors cutting through it like a hot knife—the only sounds the melding of your quick breaths and the shuffling of bed sheets as Logan finally comes up to meet you. 
He's balancing on his forearm as he unbuttons his jeans, undoing the zipper and shoving the denim and his boxers down his legs. You swallow at the sight of his cock springing against his stomach. You had felt his erection before, but he is far bigger than you ever anticipated. 
With one hand on his cock, he lowers himself in between your thighs. You instinctually spread your legs for him, inviting him in. He nudges against your entrance, taking his time. 
His forehead meets yours, your chests flush against each other’s, panting in sync. You’re both waiting with bated breath, his tip slipping inside, but stopping short before going any farther. 
His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. “Thought I’d never have you,” he confesses, pushing his tip a bit further in. “Would’ve given up anything for this. Would’ve waited forever.”
“You don’t have to,” you murmur.  “I’m right here. I’m yours.” 
“Mine?”
“All yours.”
And then he’s pushing deep inside you, down to the hilt, bottoming out. He swallows your moans with a kiss, biting your lip, drawing blood, and licking it away. “All fucking mine.” He stays buried inside you, unmoving. “Wanna stay inside you forever, sweetheart,” he growls, your heart bursting at the thought.
He pulls himself all the way out and all the way back in, stretching you out, working you open. You look down in between your bodies and watch as his cock disappears inside of you. “Feels s-so fucking good,” you stammer, already drunk off him. 
“Like watching me fuck into you?” Logan husks, picking up his pace, his hips snapping into yours. 
“Y-yes,” you whimper. His muscles flex as he ruts into you. He takes the hand that was on his cock and brings it in between your bodies, his fingertips quickly finding your clit and giving it a soft pinch. Your back arches off the mattress at the sensation. 
Logan hums at your reaction. “So sensitive,” he groans. “Taking me so good, sweetheart.” You can feel him losing control as he rams into you, his thrusts growing harder with each pump of his cock. He’s drawing firm, fast circles into your core. 
It’s all too much, him, his cock, his fingers. Your skin is on fire, your nipples pushing against his chest—the friction absolutely delicious. You’re already so close, just a few steps away from the ledge, and you’re ready to fall. 
“Know you’re close, darlin’,” Logan moans in between kisses. “Can feel you squeezing me.” 
You hum in response, but Logan refuses to let up. His pace is beyond brutal, pounding into you over and over again, his fingers working your clit in tandem. Your muscles contract around him, gripping tightly. 
“That’s it,” he murmurs. “So fucking tight, so fucking warm.” His praises are more than you can handle. “You gonna come on my cock, just like this?” 
“Yes, fuck, Logan!” You’re a babbling mess, his name the only thing on your mind, on your lips, hanging in the air like it’s a sacred prayer. Everything is him, and it always has been. In this moment and in every other, he is your end and your beginning. 
 “Let go for me, sweetheart. Know you can do it for me.” His deep voice is all you need to walk you through it. You’re breaking down, coming on his cock, the pleasure coursing through your veins, spreading like an untamable fire. 
He’s stroking your clit long after you’ve come, still snapping his hips into yours, still working up towards his own orgasm. His pace is getting sloppier, but he shows no signs of stopping. You can feel yourself growing overstimulated, his cock rubbing against your walls, his fingers circling your clit. “S’too much,” you whine, your nails digging into his arms, your legs wrapping around his waist. 
Logan presses himself closer to you, as close as he possibly can be. “You’ve got one more in you, sweetheart,” he coaxes, not letting up. “Know you can take it.”
You’re breathless, clinging onto him helplessly. You’re clamping down on him again, taking him deeper than you did before. He’s hitting that sweet spot with every thrust. “Lo,” you whimper. “I’m gonna—”
“I know, darlin’,” he grunts. You can feel him throbbing inside you. “Let it happen, I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.” 
The tension is snapping again, breaking in half as he pulls another orgasm from you. You shudder as you come for a third time, overstimulated and beyond fucked out. You know he’s close behind, his hips slowing down, his forehead pressed against yours. He slips his hand away from your clit and around your back, pulling you closer to his chest. It’s so intimate, so perfect. 
“F-fuck,” he mumbles. “Where do you want me to—”
You hold him closer. “Stay,” you whisper. “Want you inside. Wanna feel you come.”
“Oh fuck,” he mutters, plunging deep inside you, his muscles tensing as he fills you up, your name on his lips. His thrusts slow, pumping in and out every now and then before finally stopping. 
You stay like this for a few minutes, his arm keeping you tight against his chest, his cock still buried inside you and your foreheads still pressed together. 
He brings a hand up to your cheek, his thumb brushing gently across your skin. You sigh, your eyes fluttering open and closed. 
He shakes his head. “I always wanted you,” he says, his voice low and raspy. “The whole time. It was only ever you.” 
His words could make you cry. It’s everything you’ve ever hoped to hear. You smile, his hand finding its way to the crook of your neck, his fingers lightly stroking your sensitive skin. “Can’t believe I didn’t see it,” you breathe, your voice laden with sleepiness. “I never knew. Thought you’d never want me.”
“I’ll always want you.” His cock finally slips out of you, leaving you feeling empty. His legs tangle with yours, his lips pressing a chaste kiss to your temple. “Would’ve waited forever for you, darlin’.”
“Forever?”
“Longer.”
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dravidious · 4 months ago
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You're more amazing than 3D models
I haven't made any 3D models in months, but I have made 3 Differentcolorsofcommoncards! Here's the greens
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I renamed a few that I showed previously because I think I've figured out the flavor I want to go with. Still placeholder names obviously, but slightly more fitting placeholder names
#asks#custom cards#specifically the flavor is that white/enchantments revolve around some kind of religion thing#red/artifacts are some artificer faction#and black/green/blue counters are like. some kinda genetic modification thing#all of them chasing improvement in their own ways#anyway i also finished all the white and red commons!#black is already half-done so i gotta work on the blues next#i like the idea of daily updates but i'm making cards faster than i can post them lol this is awesome#i love being done with college!#but i'm gonna have to get a job at some point :(#i'll just have to finish the set before then!#and at the rate i'm going that's definitely achievable!#i think i should break for today. i don't want to burn out and then leave this sitting for a month#also! very big news! i finally figured out how to get tumblr mass image uploading to do things in the right order!#it puts the images from top to bottom based on how they're sorted in the file explorer#except to make things confusing the specific image you drag will always be at the top#i had it sorted by date so the lowest numbered cards were at the bottom which put everything upside down#in other news i changed “bow blessing” to “spider's support” which is not for faction reasons like the others#it's just such a perfect name because the card basically has support 2#and bow blessing was an aura but i changed it because green so i wanted to name the new version differently#also i'm kinda really unsatisfied with green/white being enchantments#white needs an enchantment archetype obviously but it doesn't interact with anything that green is doing#in fact i have trouble making green auras because they do the same thing as counters#blue having an artifact theme would probably cause the same problems if it weren't for supply tokens connecting the themes#but at least blue has modified as a major theme so it can use auras well#and green having both +1 counters and keyword counters takes up all the design space for auras#i'll just have to try making lots of green non-aura enchantments and resonance elementals at uncommon
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