#& that's why I never really post about them on their own I feel weird

[goomyloid]

"when noelle finds out kris hasn't been 'kris' this whole time, how will she feel when she realizes she's been reconnecting with someone completely different?"

this sentiment i've seen a lot is an interesting thought but it never actually clicked with me all that much for some reason, and i wasnt sure why or how to put it into words until somewhat recently.

like, i guess i think about it in similar terms to kris's relationship with susie; i think it's unfair to say that kris and susie aren't really friends or something just because that person is 'not kris.' at least by this point, they clearly enjoy being around each other, it's a two-way street. kris is still there, and is always there... on a normal route. that's when our role (so far) amounts to merely 'opening up opportunities' for kris, i.e. giving them a reason to go on Epic Adventures (with the goal of closing dark fountains) all while winning battles with the Power Of Friendship, etc.

sure, we control their specific movements, which will always feel limiting to them (which leads into my assumption that no matter what we do, kris will always hold some level of resentment towards us -- no matter how luxurious the prison cell is, you will always be trapped).

all of this is my long-winded way of explaining that when the two work in harmony, the boundary between kris and the player becomes less distinct. that's why the separation between the two didn't feel as important in chapter 1, where there wasn't really an opportunity for things to go 'wrong,' so to speak. so if we follow the path of least resistance -- how the story 'should' go -- then i think it's fair to say that at least SO FAR, kris is still there, working with us when they have to, not shutting anything out in particular, becoming real friends with susie, and reconnecting with noelle.

the time they spent together in cyber city wasn't 'fake' -- kris is still there, emoting, our voice going through their mouth, they're having fun with noelle (i always think of kris saying "Nooooo" when noelle asks if they need a dog treat, they had no reason to actually howl like that, i swear to god they're just enjoying being a little goofy like old times)

(there's also plenty of other examples of our prompts (presumably) coming out of kris's own mouth in their own voice, they're just in control of HOW it comes out, i.e. yelling "NO" or barely muttering "yes" after spamton neo. but this post aint about that so im moving on)

all of this is the normal route, of course. i dont think i need to explain how much this differs in the weird route, lol. we force kris down a path they Very Much Most Likely Don't Particularly Want to Go Down, but we make them. they dont want to say Proceed, but they have to, which is when that voice comes out as US, not them. from the soul or something, probably, a voice beaming commands into noelle's mind regardless of whether or not kris actually says anything out loud, hence noelle still hearing us even when kris is down in battle.

this disharmony is what manifests as friction between kris and the player, and while we dont Really know what all is happening inside kris's head, i sort of always imagined it as kris closing off/almost going dormant, as some form of protest maybe, maybe to at least communicate to noelle -- the only one who can see something's wrong, not just different -- that this isn't them, it's something else. kris wouldn't do this, and she knows this. that's why when it's all over and berdly has been ice'd, all we know is that they "look kinda..." out of it, distraught, barely there, maybe. i heart dissociation and all that

basically, the split between kris and the player (in my own probably-not-end-all-be-all-correct interpretation of the story thus far) becomes more rigid only when our interests conflict, and the more we work together, the less reason kris has to dissociate, for lack of a better term, and the 'kris' that susie comes to know and noelle comes to reconnect with isn't exactly the wrong 'kris' at all. sure, they're being controlled but that doesn't mean they aren't still THERE.

and if the story continues down along the path of us micro-managing everyone's goals into fruition (noelle getting close to susie comes to mind), kris will still work against us in some ways no matter what we do, but finding some kind of 'happier path/ending' is probably far closer to what they want rather than Manipulating Their Childhood Friend into Killing Their Classmate. just a hunch

anyway the TLDR is i don't really know if the initial question will end up being a problem in the same way that everyone thinks it will, on a normal route. sure, they'll all be shocked and maybe horrified to find out kris is being controlled and whatnot, but that doesn't make the time they spent together any less real, because despite it all, kris was still there.

[ianmalcolmreynolds]

Not to keep Gemma posting on here but something about the reactions to that final decision really compel me.

Maybe I’m falling for the idea of social media discourse representing the average fan again, but it really fascinates me how much they tapped into something to make a character we’ve basically never seen such a guiding star for so many people.

I’m not saying everyone who prefers Mark and Gemma has a bad reason for doing so or that fans shouldn’t be moved by their relationship. They’re such a key part of the show, I love what they make me think about, and I’ve seen so many genuinely devastating reads of their characters.

But I also think there’s a weird convergence of ideas that almost make it feel like a perfect storm? It feels like a lot of people resent the idea of a central romance in prestige television, and Mark and Gemma let them root for something that’s more of a ‘subplot’. There’s definitely some puritanical discourse about the ‘love vs. lust’ take I see all the time in there or distilling Gemma and Helly to a ‘wife vs a work wife’, and I think a larger chunk of people than I expected can’t look past the idea that one’s a marriage and one isn’t. I think it’s easy to search for moral high ground (which is ship discourse 101, I know) given the other selves of each woman, Ms Casey vs Helena Eagan, even though I think they’ve written Helena well as a three-dimensional and somewhat sympathetic character because of her father.

And I feel like the common retort from Mark S defenders like myself centers around the fact that innies have the right to their own lives and experiences, the story the show’s been telling the entire time, but I don’t think it’s just the idea that people see innies as less than people. I’ve seen a lot of people acknowledge that and still say they don’t care, they just want Gemma to get a happy ending and specifically add that they don’t care if it undermines the themes. And I’m not even saying that’s an invalid way to consume the show! It’s just a bit stunning to me that a character who effectively only haunted the narrative for the first 75% of the show to this point has enamored people the way she has. It’s just super interesting to think about why that is.

[miscellaneous--bones]

art has been difficult again and ive been feeling like garbage. regardless, have the few doodles of this sad worm i've been able to do

[lesbiradshaw]

i wish nonlesbians could be Normal about lesbian headcanons or characters

[8lah8lah]

"both sides of shipcourse are wrong" says person about to not bat a fucking eye when someone on one side gets chased off the fucking internet and doxxed and told they deserve assault for liking ships that are abusive in a way they dont immediately understand/relate to. "shipping discourse is just sooo dumb and immature" says person about to fucking gasp and scream and tell all their mutuals and post "STOP putting ***** on my dash in 202_" vagues like A Gross Drawing Existing In The World is going to singlehandedly groom and traumatize and enable and Normalize everything for everyone on the planet simultaneously for simply being put out there and it being out there is a category 10000 mental safety hazard that they must bravely defend people from. "youre stupid if you care about ship discourse lmao" posts brave tumblr user about to get really upset publically over One person they saw shipping a like, 4-year age gap between two fictional chars that's there if you Squint, an opinion that Clearly has NOTHING to do with very specifically one side of the discourse

[justinefrischmanngf]

i need to get over myself and learn the languages i want to learn if i want to learn them like i just need to do it if i want to learn them then i should go out and learn them and like . fuck whatever else any of it means . yes it IS embarrassing to learn a language like the ones i want to learn as an adult but who CARES and yes i KNOW my grandparents will never want to speak to me in those languages but who CARES if it's important to me it can be important to me anyway

[zirconpetals]

There's one post that I've been accidentally stumbling upon that talks about the scene in Journey to Babel where Amanda slaps Spock & how his parents don't understand him & only Jim understands and accepts him for who he is that's why their dynamic is so special etc. etc.

And that's been very revealing, because... I kinda don't feel that bad for Spock in that scene & I think he maybe deserved it a little.

& Like why do you think Amanda was telling him all that stuff? What was her goal? And what other methods did she have left to achieve that goal? (Other than emotional manipulation that she ended up using. And of course it's bad to emotionally manipulate people but again. Why was she doing that?)

And what did Jim end up doing in that episode to achieve the exact same goal? Oh yeah he (and Bones) tricked Spock like a little baby that can't be reasoned with. Boy I sure am glad they accept him for who he truly is lol

[vadlings]

Represention of Autistic Frustration in Laios Dungeon Meshi

Like many other autistic people, I related strongly to Laios Touden while reading Dungeon Meshi. This post isn't going to spend time disputing whether he displays autistic traits or not—while I could do that, I want to focus on why specifically his portrayal struck a chord with me in a way the writing of most other autistic-coded characters has not.

Disclaimer: as the above suggests, this post is strongly informed by my own experiences as an autistic person, as well as the experiences of my neurodivergent friends with whom I have spoken about this subject. I want to clarify that in no way am I asserting my personal experience to be some Universal Autistic Experience. This post is about why Laios' character feels distinct and significant to me in regard to autistic representation, and while I'm at it, I do feel that I have interesting things to say about autistic representation in media generally. This also got a bit long, so I'm sticking it under a read more. Spoilers for up to the end of chapter 88 below.

The thing that stands out most to me in regard to Laios' characterisation is the open anger he displays when someone points out his inability to read other people. This comes up prominently in his interactions with "Shuro" (Toshiro Nakamoto):

The frustration pictured above (Laios continuing to physically tussle with Toshiro, using crude language toward him) becomes even more notable when you remember that this is Laios, who, outside of these interactions, is not easily fazed and often exists as a lighthearted contrast to the rest of the cast. Then we get to Laios' nightmare.

In Falin's words: "Nightmares love emotional wounds. Wounds you hold in your heart. Things that give you stress, or things that were traumatic for you. They aggravate memories like that and cause the dreamer to have terrible dreams." (chapter 42, page 10.) (damn. i'm properly citing for this post and everything.)

Thus, Laios' nightmare establishes an important fact: even if he is unable to recognise social blunders while he's making them, he's at least subconsciously aware that other people operate on a different wavelength to him, and that he's an outsider in many of his social circles (both past and present). His dream-father's disparaging words stress the impact this has had upon his ability to live up to the expectations set out for him, and we also get a panel of kids who smirk at him (presumably former bullies to some degree). Toshiro's appearance only hammers home how much Laios is still both humiliated and angered by his misunderstanding of their relationship.

I've thought a lot about anger as concomitant to the autistic experience. When autistic representation portrays ostracization, it's generally from an angle of the autistic character being upset at how conforming to neurotypical norms doesn't come easily to them; as a result, they express a desire to 'get better' at meeting neurotypical standards, a desire to become more 'normal' (whether the writing implies this is a good thing or not). In contrast, not once does Laios go, "I need to perform better in my social interactions, and try to care less about monsters, because that's what other people find weird." His frustration is directed outward rather than inward, and as a result, it's the people around him who are framed as nonsensical.

The Winged Lion starts delineating Laios' anger, and Laios' reaction is to think to himself, "It can sense all my thoughts, huh?" (chapter 88, page 16.) This is the scene that really resonated with me. I'm not saying I have never felt the desire to conform to neurotypical norms that is borne from insecurity, but primarily, I know that I don't want to work toward becoming 'normal'—I don't want to change myself for people who follow rules I find nonsensical. It's the difference between, "Oh god, why can't I get it," and, "WHY CAN'T YOU GET IT?" (phrasing here courtesy of my friend Miles @dogwoodbite). And for me personally, Dungeon Meshi is the first time I've seen this frustration and the resultant voluntary isolation from other people portrayed in media so candidly. Laios' anger is not downplayed or written to be easily palatable, either.

The culmination of Laios' frustrations in this scene wherein we learn that Laios has fantasised about "a pack of monsters attacking a village" drives home just how alienated he really feels. I need not go into his wish to become a monster himself, redolent of how many autistic people identify/have identified with non-humans to some degree as a result of a percieved disconnect from society (when I was younger, I wanted to be a robot. I still kind of do.)

Obviously, wishing death upon other people is a weighty thing, but the unfiltered nature of this page is what deeply resonated with me. The Winged Lion is laying Laios' deepest and most transgressive desires bare, and they are desires that are a product of lifelong ostracization by others (whether intentional or unintentional). This is the brand of anger I'm familiar with, and that my neurodivergent friends express being familiar with, but that I haven't seen portrayed in writing so explicitly before—in fact, it surprised me because most well-meaning autistic representation I've experienced veers toward infantilisation in trying make the autistic character's struggles easy for neurotypicals to sympathise with.

Let's also not neglect the symbolism inherent to Laios' daydream. "A pack of monsters attacking a village". Functionally, monsters are Laios' special interest—he percieves everything first and foremost through his passion for monsters. His daydream of monsters attacking—killing—humans, is fundamentally a daydream of the world he understands (monsters) overthrowing the world that is so illogical to him, that has repeatedly shunned him (other people). I joked to my friends that it's an autistic power fantasy, and it actually sort of is. And in it, his identity is aligned with that of the monsters, while his anger manifests in a palpable dissociation from the rest of humanity. This is one manga page. It's brief. It's also very, very raw to me. I think about it often.

To conclude, I love Laios Dungeon Meshi. This portrayal of open frustration in an autistic character meant a lot to me, and I hope I've sufficiently outlined why. Also, feel free to recommend media with autistic representation in the notes if you've read this far—I would really like to see if there is more of this nature. Thank you for reading. I'm very tired and should probably sleep now.

[eulaties]

general thoughts about the 2025 小红书 boom

i feel like we're at a really interesting point in time right now, particularly in regards to the shift in american consciousness + changing world order, so i thought it would be fitting to document my thoughts about the xhs situation as a chinese american. however, please note this post is NOT speaking on behalf of any community, and i am only speaking to my own personal opinions.

the good

american propaganda is getting dismantled in real time. there's so much cross-cultural communication right now in relation to america's political issues, everyday life, and what china is really like

im already seeing people starting to learn the language, becoming interested in visiting china, etc. and i truly haven't seen this kind of mass interest in chinese culture in a long time

to be precise, the last time there was really "chinese soft power" in america was during the mid-to-late 2000s. notably this time period included the 2008 beijing olympics which was monumental for china on the global stage, as it showcased their prosperity, openness ("北京欢迎你"), and equal footing in the modern world. ive seen people compare the xhs phenomenon to this event and while both are drastically different, i do think this is an apt comparison (though obviously this xhs thing is on a muchhh smaller scale...)

so many new friendships and connections are being made!

the bad

to add on to what op said, theres definitely a difference between just generally understanding that as diaspora, most people around you will hold sinophobic views about china and chinese people VERSUS actually having empirical evidence that most normal people didn't see chinese people as human before. its jarring to say the least. like everyone is praising chinese people on xhs now, but just last week everyone was fearmongering about us?? really reminds you that in the eyes of the public, favor for any asian culture (and by extension, its people) is fleeting and will often change easily with the season

and yes, its definitely weird to see people talk about chinese people as if they've never seen a chinese person in america before. like obviously there's a HUGE difference between mainlanders and diaspora, but there's also international students that come to america to study so... ??

the memes are funny, and i like how the people on xhs are playing along with them, but something about the "chinese spy" memes rubs me the wrong way. tbh, most mainlanders actually have a positive view of westerners and america, and if they don't study abroad themselves or know anyone that went abroad, they will never truly understand what it's like to be discriminated against simply for being chinese (there's a difference between knowing and understanding ofc; not saying that they're ignorant & don't know anything lol). this is just the honest truth, just like how i'll never understand what it's like to live and grow up in mainland china since im diaspora. anyways, i kind of question if mainlanders are actually aware of the loaded context behind those words. while americans are using the "chinese spy" memes as jokes now in reference to why tiktok is getting banned, it doesn't change the fact that many other americans truly do believe that there is mass chinese surveilliance/planted chinese spies in america (i.e., see modern-day mccarthyism, like how chinese researchers are often stripped of their titles/reputations, interrogated, and then silently deported). like language and framing does matter, and it has actually affected chinese people in america, but now you guys are treating it like a joke?

anyways, even with all of the bad there's still overwhelming good that has come out of this, and i do feel like its better to be more positive than negative about these things in the long run! who knows where tomorrow will take us but at the very least i hope everyone actively continues pissing off the american government 💖 amen

[sheeezu]

Things to expect when you've mastered shifting

This isn't the normal "oh you'll feel on top the world" kind of post which just hypes up everything and the sole purpose is to motivate. This is (???) the logistics, the indepth version of what you'll face psychologically.

I've shifted close to about a hundred times, whether it was from this reality, or shifting within a reality I shifted.

This is all from my personal experience, you might experience differently.

⋆ Disassociation: when you shift back to your original reality, you'll often times confuse both reality's memory, of course, we all know this, doesn't matter if you shifted or not. But what I've seen no one talk about is that sometimes events and certain objects from your DR will unintentionally manifest into your CR, just because of how deeply rooted they become in your subconscious. For example, I had maybe mentioned this somewhere else, but in my DR I had scripted expensive china cups, which broke on my second day being there. Well two weeks ago my family was gifted the same teacups (some details were off) and one of them managed to get a crack in them after we served the guests tea in it.

⋆ Weird Dreams: Not only is the concept of the dreams weird, but overall mechanics of it are unusual as well (I didn't shift unconsciously in my dreams, that's one boundary I've established)

For example, dreams with people claiming to know the future, telling me, and it coming true the next day, but it being minor details, people from my DRs channeling me, dreams which involves falling out of reality/finding the end of the multiverse.

Dreams which involves me floating, strong winds which blow away entirely of the void reality (CR), I had started getting this dream since I've wanted to permashift, the wind is so strong and I feel it, I'm usually at my college and or doing a mundane activity in my current reality, everything dissapears and I end up in the void state for the rest of the night.

Once my S/O visited me in my dream, he asked me to come back home, it was a lucid dream so I consciously agreed because I couldn't deny him; ended up in my home reality.

⋆ Feeling weirdly sad about your CR: this one might be personal to me. truth be told, I haven't studied a single day since I've successfully shifted. This year all of my classmates and age fellows are going to start looking at university applications, the ones they mention are usually universities I used to dream all day long about getting into, when I didn't know about shifting. It forms a pit in my heart, the passion I once used to have regarding hardwork by investing blood sweat tears into studying, pinterest board filled with quotes such as "some dreams are worth more than my sleep" not stirring anything within me. It's not that I think I can't get these things, i know i can just shift to a parallel reality and get it, but I just don't want to, I don't feel the same about this reality anymore, slowly letting it go, no matter how much I try to cling onto it, I know I was never meant to be here.

⋆ Personality changes: When you become an expert at shifting its no question that you'd shift very frequently. Those DR selfs would influence your personality, and people can think you're developing a split personality disorder.

Take me as an example, if you look at the posts on my blog, you'd notice a different tone in each one of them, some are in a more softer tone and the others feel clinical.

⋆ Putting your DR family first, even though they're not here: I don't know how to explain this one, so I'd just take an example out of my own experience again.

I was out shopping with my mother for sweaters, the ones we were coming across were really good quality, but I could only think of my S/O, she was pointing out the things she thought I'd like, but I kept looking at the men's sweater, subconsciously trying to pick one out for him, which weirded my mother out slightly.

...

Why am I crying.

Anyways I have planned to permashift out of this reality before new year, it was my childhood dream to blog, but I was too shy to do so and never had anything common with anyone. But I've finally completed the final thing on my list, alongside with meeting my cousin who I adored, I decided to add her to my DR.

That's it, I'll go on and answer the 50 asks in my inbox.

...

[likeumeanit9497]

red pill | c.s. |

chris sturniolo x fem!reader

summary: y/n is keeping score of a strange game between her friends when things get a little bit out of control ;)

warnings: SMUT; unprotected p in v; oral (m receiving); fingering; spanking; hair pulling; dirty talk; use of boner pillz; face fucking; 18+

notes: this has been sitting half-finished in my drafts since the triplets posted that one photo dump (iykyk) and i FORGOT ABOUT IT until today. when i first started writing this i couldn't decide if it should be a matt or chris fic but was obviously going through a chris phase when i started it soooo chris girlies this is for u. HOWEVER stay tuned matt girls because i plan on making a blue pill version;) anyways love y'all lots MUAH MUAH MUAH

“This is so fucking stupid.” Matt groaned, sitting in between his brothers on the living room couch, holding a single red pill delicately in between two fingers as though it was a toxin. “Bro you’re the one who came up with the idea and bought them.” Chris retorted, inspecting the identical pill in his own hand. “Yeah, and I have no fucking clue why I agreed to this.” Nick chimed in, his voice filled with misery. “Because you can never turn down a competition.” I replied cheekily from my place on the other couch, giggling at the boys’ petty arguing.

Leaning forward, I pulled my phone out of my back pocket — opening up the timer app and hovering my finger over the start button. “Now hurry up and take them dummies, I’ll keep score.” I peered up at them as they gave each other tentative looks, seemingly hoping that one was going to have a change of heart. When nothing but silence followed, they all seemed to unanimously commit, dropping the red pills on their tongues and chasing them down with soda. As soon as they swallowed, I started the timer and sat back; crossing my arms across my chest with a smirk plastered to my face.

After the guys had posted the video at the gas station where Matt was talking about his idea for the sex pills, I had jokingly messaged him saying that I would gladly keep score if they really did it. Taking my message seriously, Matt had secretly gone out and grabbed three pills before inviting me over tonight. Thinking we were all just going to hangout, I was shocked when I showed up to find the pills neatly lined up on the coffee table and the three brothers pacing around the room arguing. After plenty of deliberation, Matt finally convinced Nick and Chris, and now here they were; awkwardly looking between themselves and me.

“How long do these even take to kick in?” Asked Chris, toying with the can of Pepsi in his hand. Grabbing one of the packages from the coffee table, Matt examined it for a moment. “It says thirty minutes.” He replied, sighing and running a hand through his messy hair. “This is ridiculous.” Remarked Nick, shaking his head as though he was disappointed in everyone in the room. Still giggling, I stretched my legs along the couch. “Oh come on,” I whined, “Relax, get comfy, and let the games begin.”

𓆩♡𓆪

“Okay, this isn’t working.” Nick deadpanned, locking his phone and throwing it beside him. “Really?” Asked Chris, turning to face his brother. Dropping his jaw, Nick made a disgusted face. “Is it for you?” Chris smirked bashfully, shrugging his shoulders. “I’m feeling somethin’.” He replied, to which Matt and Nick both groaned. “What about you Matt?” I asked, eyeing his still-relaxed frame leaning against the couch. Jutting out his bottom lip, he shrugged. “No, nothin’.” Chris groaned beside him, and I couldn’t help but notice him adjust himself slightly. “Great, now I feel weird.” He said, grabbing a blanket and swiftly draping it across his lap. I laughed and slowly pulled myself up from the couch.

“Looks like you might end up being the loser.” I teased as I began tidying up the packages strewn around the room. “I will n-” Dropping to my knees, I collected torn up pieces of packaging that had gathered at Chris’s feet. Noticing that Chris’s words had been cut short and now the room had fallen into heavy silence, I glanced up at him through my eyelashes. His eyes — which from up close seemed glassy and dilated — were on me, his mouth open slightly from his disrupted speech, and even his breathing seemed slightly rapid as his chest rose and fell.

Noticing this, Nick threw his hands up in the air exasperatedly. “Chris are you serious? See I knew this was a fucking horrible idea.” His sharp words pulled Chris’s eyes away from me, and he winced at his brother. “I’m sorry,” He replied, his words aimed at both Nick and myself, “I don’t know what the fuck is going on with me.” He added, seeming to grow increasingly uncomfortable. I giggled nervously before pulling myself back up to my feet. “It’s okay.” I reassured him before bringing the packages to the garbage; using the short walk to recover from that oddly intense moment.

As I returned, I suddenly noticed Matt fidgeting in his place on the couch, his brows knit in what seemed to be anguish. With Nick scrolling on his phone and Chris burying his head in his hands, I seemed to be the only one noticing Matt’s sudden discomfort. I chuckled as I slid back into my seat. “You good Matt?” I asked, teasing him. His eyes shot up to mine, and I watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed nervously. “Uh…yeah. All—all good.” He replied, his voice thick and slightly raspy.

Glancing down at my phone, I check the timer. It had been 32 minutes since they took the pills. I smiled gently. “Right on time.” I replied, shooting him a knowing look which just made him grow even more visibly restless. My comment grabbed the attention of Nick and Chris, and they turned to look at their rosy-cheeked brother. “You too?” Nick shouted, jumping up off of the couch. Matt grimaced, shrugging his shoulders again. “It’s not like I can control it.” He replied, letting out an uncomfortable laugh. Sighing, Nick began walking towards the stairs. “Whoa! Where are you going?” Chris asked him. “Nothing is happening to me dumbass! And I will absolutely not be sitting around you two anymore now that you’re both bricked up.” He sassed as he began climbing the stairs. “Good luck Y/n!” He called as he disappeared into his bedroom.

“Looks like we’re in a 1 v 1.” I said, wiggling my eyebrows teasingly. I registered the look of torment on the faces of Matt and Chris, and decided that it would be in my best interest to hold back my laughter. “Let’s see who can make it to an hour.” I added. Chris grunted as he shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “I’ll be lucky if I make it another five minutes.” He replied, his voice also more gruff than usual. “Aww c’mon, you can do it.” I encouraged, moving to place a reassuring hand on his knee but deciding against it. As the room fell back into silence, I could hear Matt’s heavy breathing permeated by the occasional soft whine.

Although I was trying to keep things light-hearted, their overwhelming arousal was growing more and more palpable. My wandering eyes flittered from Matt’s bottom lip pulled in between his teeth to Chris’s temple coated in a sheen of sweat. As I focused on their features, it was as though their chemically-induced lust was contagious. I began to feel my own heart pounding in my chest, and I noticed a dampness in my panties that hadn’t been there before. In that silent room, all of our desires suddenly fell in sync with one another, and it was growing harder and harder to ignore.

“I need to go deal with this.” Chris suddenly blurted out, his voice laced with urgency as his focused eyes stared straight ahead. “You’re throwin’ in the towel?” Asked Matt, his lips curling into a smile infused with what seemed to be an odd combination of arrogance and relief. Chris winced as he tried to lean forward, nodding his head intensely. I watched in painful silence as he folded his hands together and pressed them against his plump lips, deep in thought. Very slowly, his eyes were pulled in my direction.

I froze under his gaze, the look he was giving me was worth a thousand words. My brows furrowed momentarily, instinctually denying what his eyes were asking me, before I felt my body begin to react. Heart pounding in my ears, I leaned back against the couch and crossed my legs; dying for some relief. “Hey—what’s going on?” Matt’s voice infiltrated mine and Chris’s stare-down. Picking up on the shift of air in the room, his eyebrows shot up. “Chris, no! That’s not how this works.” He exclaimed, turning to face his brother. Still looking at me, a smirk pulled at the corner of Chris’s lips. “We never laid down any ground rules kid.” He replied, and I felt my throat go dry.

“Well…” Matt’s exasperated voice trailed off for a moment, “Well, who said you get to fuck her?” The words sat heavy in the air around us, the reality of the situation being verbalized for the first time. I couldn’t manage to get a single word out if I tried, nor did I have the power to pull my eyes from Chris’s heady gaze. Chris chuckled, pulling himself off of the couch before slowly beginning to walk towards me. “No one,” He began, his voice suddenly menacing, “That’s up to her.” He finished just as he stopped in front of me, his frame towering above me with his tantalizing bulge directly in my line of sight.

Very slowly, he leaned down so that we were once again face-to-face. I felt my cheeks burn red from the situation I had suddenly found myself in, and the desire was radiating off of me in pulses. “What do you say?” He asked, his dilated eyes flooded with amusement. I swallowed, trying my best to re-instate my own vocal chords. Just as I was about to squeak out a response, a mindless gasp fell from my lips as Chris ducked his head down; his face buried in my neck.

My eyes fluttered shut momentarily, but once they opened they immediately landed on Matt’s tense figure sitting on the couch. His eyes were wide open, showing me just how badly he was suffering in that moment. The sheer need radiating from his gaze on me was infiltrating my mind, but the feeling of Chris’s warm breath dancing against my neck made it difficult for anything else to matter.

A whisper-soft moan slipped from my lips as Chris’s tongue delicately swiped against my clammy skin, and on instinct my hands flew to the back of his hair. Noticing my pitiful reaction, Chris chuckled against my skin. “I think I have my answer.” He whispered before pulling away from my neck and instead resuming our mind-numbingly erotic staring contest.“Matt get out.” Chris ordered, not even bothering to pull his hungry eyes away from me. As soon as Matt groaned, huffing out a disappointed “Fuck” as he headed for his room, Chris’s ravenous mouth was on mine.

I sucked in a sharp breath from the sheer dominance of his mouth. Lips tumbling in urgency, I felt his tongue toy with my lips; begging for entrance. Obliging, I moaned softly as his warm tongue flicked into my mouth, running against my own in slow, intoxicating movements. “Chris.” I panted, my voice thick with lust as his rapacious mouth began travelling down my neck. His hands snaked up my body, taking their time along my bare legs and stomach before tugging against the hem of my bunched up tank.

“Off.” He growled authoritatively. Without hesitating, I threw the thin white material over my head and let it drop to the floor. As soon as my pebbled tits were exposed, Chris’s greedy hands cupped onto them; exploring their shape as his thumbs ran along my sensitive nipples. Goosebumps raised on my skin at the feeling of his covetous, almost controlling touch. His hands and mouth moved as though he had no control over them — as though they owned the body that they were exploring.

His mouth dropped down to my chest. Taking one of my nipples in his mouth, a deep moan vibrated against my blazing skin. I laced my fingers through his hair, tugging gently against his roots as pleasure surged through my body. “Fuck, I’m so hard Y/n.” He said roughly as he nibbled at my skin. Mouth watering from the need he was exhibiting so transparently, my legs widened subconsciously as I writhed for more contact. “Let me h-help then.” I replied, my voice airy from how breathless he was making me.

Chris immediately straightened up, standing in front of me. Holding the bottom of his t-shirt up between his teeth, he began fumbling wildly with his belt. As soon as the metal unbuckled, my hands flew to his jeans, my own desperation causing me to yank down his zipper and slip his baggy pants and boxers down just enough to allow his swollen cock to spring free. As soon as the cold air brushed against his leaking tip, Chris released a gasp of relief. “Fuck, need your mouth.” He muttered, his droopy eyes peering down at me as I took in the immeasurable size of his length.

As I sat frozen in shock, the silky skin of his tip brushed against my pouting lips, snapping me out of my hypnosis. I opened my mouth, granting him the ability to place his cock on my tongue. I looked up at him through my lashes, taking in his panicky and disheveled appearance as his desperate cock pulsed against my drooling tongue. Slowly, I wrapped my lips around his girth, sucking in my cheeks lightly; earning a sharp groan and an indignant thrust of his hips. My eyes stayed glued to his as I began swirling my tongue along his swollen ridge, his salty pre-cum dissolving against my satisfied taste buds.

His jaw went slack as he watched me, deep in a trance. His hands found the back of my head, where he laced his strong fingers through my wavy hair; seeming to put up a fight against an all-consuming urge to sink all eight inches down my welcoming throat. Just as his eyes darkened, seconds from losing all self-control, I gave him some of the relief he was dying for by slowly bobbing my head up and down his veiny shaft. A long hiss escaped his mouth, his eyes burned into the sight before him — into me — as I took more and more of him in my mouth on each movement.

“Fuck.” He groaned, his words clipped, as his hands tightened in my hair. Slowly, I noticed him use his grip on my head to help guide my movements; sliding my mouth along his cock in a steady rhythm. As I looked up at him, I noticed the tension rolling throughout his entire body — his abdomen flexed, arms veiny, face reddening — caused by the self-restrain he was so obviously practicing combined with the crushing arousal that he was experiencing. To help him, I relaxed my throat and gave up moving my head on my own. He noticed my sudden lack of movement, but after scanning my face in concern for a moment, quickly accepted my wordless offering by slowly rolling his hips.

He moved gently at first, his eyes trained on mine as though he was gauging where my limitations stood. With each thrust, he slid his cock just a little further down my throat, until finally my nose was pressed taut against the sprinkle of hair along his pelvis. He held me there for a moment, looking down in awe at the sight of every inch of him buried in my warm, wet mouth. As I began tightening my throat around his shaft, growing restless, his breath seemed to grow more and more ragged — until all at once his self-control seemed to vanish.

I gasped around his cock as he suddenly grabbed my head with both hands, keeping me completely still as he began pounding his cock down my throat. Tears began forming in my eyes from the sheer force of his movements. “G-good girl.” He breathed, his eyes focused on my pink lips as they stretched to accommodate his laboured thrusts. I tried to moan — the lust emitting from Chris as he face fucked me caused my panties to flood — but my vocal chords were stifled by his ravaging cock. Instead, I turned into a zombie: my glossy eyes rolled to the back of my head as strings of saliva poured from the corners of my stretched out mouth.

Chris’s breathing grew so ragged that it was intimidating. Each rough thrust drew a guttural moan from his lips, making my head spin with desire. Suddenly, my eyes flew open in shock as Chris used his strong grip on my hair to pull me back; my head now pressed firmly against the back of the couch as he drove his cock down my throat. Unable to breathe, I entered a foreign state of ecstasy as Chris planted one of his legs onto the couch to get even deeper access; pushing me to my limits.

Just as I was about to grab onto his leg and, with pleading eyes, let him know I needed a break, the most erotic moan I had ever heard fell from his swollen lips. “G-gonna cum baby.” He groaned, his eyes fluttering shut as he seemed to focus on the overwhelming build up inside of him. Flooded with arousal, I suddenly regained the ability to take his strained, erratic thrusts. “You look so fuckin’ good with my cock in your mouth.” He groaned, his words punctuated by his sharp thrusts. I released an unsteady whimper in response, staring up at his haggard face.

“Shiiit.” Chris’ voice was drawn out as he made one final thrust, letting his cock hit the back of my throat one last time before I felt his warm seed erupt; filling my drooling mouth with thick ropes of the salty fluid as his cock twitched against my tongue. I kept my eyes on his as I eagerly swallowed his cum, and watched as his glazed-over expression of bliss switched to one much more alert and hungry.

Very slowly, he pulled his still-hard cock out of my mouth with a pop. I stayed perfectly still, staring up at him with an inquisitorial look in my eyes, and flinched when I felt his thumb run along my bottom lip to collect his spilt seed before pushing it back in between my lips. After eagerly lapping up the residue, my lips were once again engulfed by Chris’s. He moaned at the taste of himself on my tongue, and his hands wasted no time before tugging down my shorts.

He detached his lips from mine, leaving me a panting mess, as his gaze was pulled to my trembling heat. Just barely concealed by my soaking wet thong, I felt my slippery walls flex around nothing from his attention alone. Chris hooked his fingers into the waistband of my thong, pulling it down my legs torturously slow as I watched his chest rise and fall. Once I was fully exposed, the cold air against my swollen clit caused me to widen my legs; begging for his warm touch.

“So fuckin’ pretty.” Chris breathed, his voice an almost-whisper, as he ran his hands along my upper thighs. Once they reached my outer-most folds, he used his thumbs to spread me apart; admiring the way my juices dripped down to his knuckles. I trembled, feeling erotically pinned down by both his powerful hands and strong gaze, dying for him to touch me. I noticed the way he was holding me so tightly, the way his lower lip was pulled between his teeth, before his eyes shot back up to mine. “Turn around.” He ordered gruffly.

Knowing that I didn’t have the willpower to refuse even if I had wanted to, I turned around. Spreading my legs wider and bending my knees, I leaned my exposed chest against the back of the couch for support as I became more and more aware of the heat radiating off of his famished body behind me. I felt the weight on the couch shift just before I felt his hand snake up my spine to once again lace through my messy hair; the warm, wet feeling of his tongue sending aftershocks along my over-reactive skin.

His chest, now completely bare, pressed against my back as his face nuzzled against my shoulder; nibbling gently with his front teeth. Arching my back, I gasped as his free hand came around to my front; finding my clit blindly before rubbing quick circles against it. A stunned moan of relief slipped from my lips, muffled by the soft fabric of the couch, as I felt my body begin to melt under his nimble fingers. “Fuck Chris, r-right there.” I breathed, engulfed in the pleasure of his steady movements.

“You’re so fuckin’ soaked baby,” He purred against my red-hot ear, “You sure you didn’t take a pill too?” His deep voice, laced with amusement, reverberated through my scattered brain. Attempting to laugh in response, I was cut short by the unmistakable feeling of his warm tip, still glossy from my mouth, pressing against my drooling slit. “Mmm.” I groaned, writhing slowly in an attempt to pull him into me.

Noticing this, Chris chuckled menacingly against my skin. “You want my cock pretty girl?” His words shot straight to my core, and aimlessly I tried to grab his poised length in my greedy hand. Tauntingly, he pulled his hips back so his cock was out of reach. “Wanna hear you say it.” He asserted, his fingers slowing against my bundle of nerves. Whining, I turned my head so that I could see his face to my right. Lids droopy, I spoke with urgency. “Please, Chris,” I felt a string of arousal slip down my thigh, “Please g-give me your c-cock.”

With a satisfied smirk across his face, Chris kept his eyes on mine as his hand abandoned my clit. Brows furrowed from the lack of contact, I was just about to let out a dissatisfied groan when I felt the heat of his cock press against my trembling core. I watched his eyes flutter from the feeling of my folds just beginning to wrap around him, and in one swift motion, he split me in half.

Gasping, I had no time to adjust to Chris’s sinful girth before he started pounding into me. My walls stretched more than they ever had before, but welcomed his cock graciously by spilling pools of arousal along its length. “Jesus Christ.” Chris moaned in my ear, overwhelming lust clear in his voice, though it didn’t seem to reign over his powerful movements. The sloppy, wet sounds of our bodies slapping together echoed throughout the living room, their provocative recoils muddling my thoughts.

Chris straightened himself up behind me, keeping his one hand knit through my hair but placing his other on my ass cheek; pressing down so that my back was arched as much as it could be. “You’re making a b-big fuckin’ mess on me baby.” He uttered, using his grip on my ass to spread me apart; admiring the sight of his cock disappearing inside of my oozing pussy. “F-feels so good.” I moaned in response, mouth going slack as I relished in the feeling of his cock squeeze through my spongey walls.

His pace began to quicken, my cunt trembling from the new rapid pace. I could barely lift my head from the back of the couch; his cock dominated every part of me. Deep, throaty groans slipped from his mouth every few seconds, his grip on my hair tightened as he struggled to keep up his pace. “Touch yourself.” He suddenly ordered, his voice rushed and gruff. With a moan, I brought my fingers to my clit where I began to draw tight circles in sync with Chris’s rhythm.

As my bundle of nerves danced between my trembling fingers, my pleasure was profoundly intensified. “Oh god!” I cried out, my voice sounding brutish to my own ears. “K-keep going C-Chris!” I felt myself begin to crumble, my climax violently approaching. As if reading my mind, he grunts from behind me. “You gonna cum?” Unable to respond with words, I nodded my head rapidly as I chewed on my bottom lip. A sharp slap against my ass caused me to gasp, my pussy starting to convulse around his rock hard length. “That’s a good girl, cum for me baby.”

His soft words worked paradoxically with his rough thrusts and stinging slap, and I was immediately hit by an orgasm so brutal, so all-consuming, that I felt my soul drift from my body. For a moment, my body stilled, void of any sign of life, as my orgasm constricted all of my senses. I felt nothing; heard nothing; saw nothing; until a wave of pleasure, the colour of blood, came screaming at me — attacking my nerves and bringing me back to life.

My legs shook, nails dug into the couch, back contorted to the point where it looked broken, as the scream of a possessed woman spilled from my mouth. Chris tightened his grip on my hair, pulling my head off of the couch and wrapping his free hand around my mouth to stifle my uncontrollable moans. As I cried out his name into his possessing hand, his movements slowed tremendously; my spasming cunt suffocating his cock. “J-Jesus.” Chris panted from behind me, struggling to keep his composure as he slowly sunk himself into me; doing his best to drive me through my high before he lost all control.

I began to gain composure over my body as my orgasm subsided — I could feel my weak limbs and filter the words that spilled from my lips. Soft moans still escaped, however, as Chris continued to fuck me slowly; hissing between his teeth as he inched closer and closer to his own high. I felt my depleted walls continue to stretch for him, and fell into a slight hypnosis from the steady movements of our conjoined bodies.

“Turn around.” Chris’s urgent voice startled me back to my senses. He suddenly pulled his cock out of me in one quick movement, and as he did, I turned around to face him. Leaning with my back against the couch, I watched as he angled himself closer to me, pumping his red, swollen cock in his hand. After a few rapid jerks, Chris let out a deep guttural moan, shuddering before spilling his warm, milky, cum along my tits. My hungry eyes flittered between his face — eyes screwed shut in bliss, puffy lips pulled apart slightly, jaw tense — and the filthy portrait he was painting across my clammy skin.

Once a pool of his seed had collected in between my full tits, Chris released one more soft grunt before opening his eyes. They focused on his signature for a moment, before drifting up to my face; a satisfied smile pulling at the corner of his lips as he took in my spent appearance. Taking a shaky breath, he leaned down to plant a soft kiss to my lips before using his discarded shirt to wipe up the mess he had made on my chest.

“Well, that turned out to be a pretty fun game.” He whispered, his words laced with humour. My eyes followed his gentle movements across my skin; watching as he took his time and made sure he left my skin seemingly untouched. Chuckling, all of my energy drained, I looked back up at his crimson-tinted face. “Let’s thank Matt.” I replied, laughing at the repulsed expression that took over his features. “You’re sick, kid.” He retorted, shaking his head, but I noticed the shameless smile creeping over his lips.

“I was kiddingggg,” I laughed, reaching for my discarded clothes, “Do you feel better though?” I asked, to which Chris dropped his gaze to his cock — still red and standing up flush against his stomach — looking back to me with a raised eyebrow as though he was saying, ‘What’s it look like?’. Chuckling, I grab my top and begin trying to put it on. “Sorry dude, I did the best I could.” Just as my vision was restricted by the material of my top over my eyes, I squealed as I felt Chris lift me up; bending me over his shoulder as he stood up.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I asked, my voice broken by laughter as I jokingly pounded on his shoulder. He was walking, now, and I couldn’t control my childish giggles as I tried to get my tank top off of my head. “We’re gonna go take a shower.” He replied just as I felt him begin to descend the stairs leading to his bedroom. “Maybe one more time will do the trick.”

ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ

[l0s3rd0wnt0wn]

IT'S NOT JUST HAIR!

Platonic yandere Batfam x Weird Black!Reader

It's not just hair; it's never just hair. It's history—years and years of history. It's culture—years and years of culture. It runs in your family, from woman to man, from grandma to grandpa. It's religion; it's family. It was never just hair, and you know that. You can smell the cocoa butter and olive oil being pressed between your braids, feeling the soft, smooth fingers of your mother braiding your hair down to your shoulders. It was never just hair; it was so much more, and you can't even explain it.

"What do you think, baby? Do you like it?" A small mirror was handed to you; a wide smile crossed your face. You moved your head to the side to see a small star on the side of your head. The cornrows were beautiful, with little brown and tan beads at the bottom. It was amazing. You put her face against yours; you two almost looked like siblings.

"I take that as a yes, then," she said, holding back a giggle. You nod your head profusely; a big grin spreads across her face.

"It's beautiful, Mommy! It's amazing!" You were so giddy with joy. Your mother always did your hair; you would complain and cry that it hurt, but the finished product was always worth it. She would put you between her legs, your head on her thigh, as she brushed through the tangles, and the TV would blaze with old Disney movies. You didn't care about the hair of those Disney princesses; your hair was already beautiful, it was already amazing, it was already outstanding because it was yours and it was like no one else's. Sometimes, your mom would bring you to her favorite hair salon, and the lady would let you read old magazines with all different types of hairstyles for Black women from the 80s to the 90s to the 2000s. It would make your little brain go wild with all those colors, and you would hear all the ladies' gossip; it was like your own personal haven. And when your mom was down, your mouth would drop—the woman in front of you was your mother.

"How do I look, baby?" she would say, running her hands through her fresh braids.

"They look amazing!" you yelled, giggling.

But now you're in a manor, and the thing is, no one in this whole family knows anything about your hair, and not even Alfred can help you. So you just wore an afro; you let your hair grow out and picked your hair. You were never embarrassed or insecure about your hair until now, when you saw a news post from a Wayne family page.

"Why is [Name] Wayne's hair so big? It's not fit for galas. I mean, look at it! It's inappropriate for business or the red carpet. They should really get it fixed." There was more posted after that, and the more the Daily Planet made articles about it, the bigger it became. Your hair would always be a topic of discussion, whether at home or at school. You'd tried to hide it, tried to pretend it wasn't there, but how could you? It's always there; it's your hair; it's always yours.

"It's okay, [Name], it's just hair." No, it's not; it's not just hair. The relaxer box was right in front of you, the little Black girls smiling with their straightened hair and bangs. "It's just hair," you thought, and you let it just be hair. You put the white substance in your hair, letting it burn and straighten it. You rinsed your hair and dragged that flat iron along it, the curls going straight. Your hair reached down to your shoulders now; you looked like Barbara and Stephanie and everyone else in the family. Now you looked like you were meant to be here, not just some random child of Bruce Wayne. You looked like a true Wayne, not just a [Last Name]. And people started liking your hair, and you began to like it—love it, even—getting more attention because of it. You brushed that hair out, just to see a clump of your hair... What is this? More hair started to fall out in little clumps.

"AHH!" you cried out, seeing them drop on the bathroom floor. Your eyes started tearing up; you looked up into the mirror, seeing your mother through the glass.

"Oh, baby, you had such beautiful hair. I love it so much. Why would you change it, sweetie? Why would you hide it?" she said, her dead eyes looking so sorrowful.

"It's just hair, Mommy," you whispered, tears running down your face.

"It's not just hair, baby, it's years and years of history, it's culture, it's everything." Her hand touched your scalp, stroking it.

"But the press and the..." you mumbled.

"What do they know? There's nothing like you, and you know that. Why do you care about what they say? It's not their hair; it's yours. It's always been yours! Why would you kill it, baby? It was always yours!" You wiped your face, and that was the day you went back to your old neighborhood and visited that old hair salon. You got to meet the ladies who helped raise you. Your mom was right; it was never just hair. It was community; it was culture; it was family. It was yours, and you're not a Wayne; you're an [Last Name], no matter what.

[cherrygirlfriend]

helping hand pairing: pogue!reader x bsf!sarah synopsis: sarah's new boyfriend can't get her off :( but her best friend can :) warnings: smut, drinking, bottom sarah & top reader wc: 2k MDNI! since people keep asking "how can you be a lesbian when you just write for men???" well here damn!!! jk i really just wanted to write for this princess <3 originally posted 01/06/2025

you and sarah had known each other for years, and even though you couldn't seem more different, you were inseparable. everyone thought that sarah was a 'perfect prissy princess', you knew she was just like you. the kook had always been rough around the edges, even if she hid it under expensive clothes and boys she'd date until she got bored of them. meanwhile, you wore your coarse manners right on your sleeve. everyone on figure 8 and the cut alike was confused as to how sarah could be friends with someone like you.

"it's some expensive crap i stole from rose." sarah sighed, throwing down a bottle of red wine on the bed before laying down next to you, the springs off the mattress creaking under her weight as you threw an old playboy magazine you'd stolen from your father onto the floor, grabbing the wine and reading the label.

"chateau lafit- whatthefuck...?" you read with furrowed brows. sarah took a peek at the bottle and let out a small chuckle.

"château lafite-rothschild. year 2017."

"if i can't pronounce it then it's definitely fancy, expensive shit." you chuckled softly, "but you do know that i don't own one of those fancy-ass wine bottle openers? i usually just drink those seven-dollar screw cap ones. ten-dollar if i'm feeling fancy."

"of course. that's why i brought this." the blonde held up a wine bottle opener with a smirk, proceeding to open the contraption like she'd done it a hundred times before.

the two of you proceeded to pass around the bottle of wine, drinking straight out of the bottle as the two of you were talking, and you tried your best to tune out the annoyance you felt when sarah was ranting about some guy she had been seeing, staring up at the band posters hung up on your wall. you told yourself that it wasn't jealousy, that you were just irritated she was focusing on some guy instead of talking about something actually interesting. you'd always been good at lying to yourself.

but then, she said something that piqued your interest.

"i mean, he can't even get me to come!" sarah exclaimed, taking a swig out of the bottle of wine in irritation.

"really?" you raised your brows with a small chuckle.

"half the time he doesn't even know where my clit is."

you let out a snort, grabbing the bottle of wine from her and taking a swig; you were never too into red wine, but whatever swanky shit she had taken from rose was actually good, sarah's cherry-flavored lipgloss staining the lip of the bottle, making you imagine how it'd be like to taste it from her full lips, your eyes drifting from her brown ones down to the lips you'd dreamt of multiple times, wondering how they'd feel, how much you wanted to have your lips pressed against hers, to tease her mouth open with your tongue.

"it's not funny!" sarah's lips formed those words, yet she started laughing, revealing her teeth that you'd wanted her to sink into your skin while your fingers-

you shook the thoughts out of your head and snorted once again, "you should break up with him. or get used to never getting off by another person again."

"i'd feel bad breaking up because of sexual compatibility."

"sarah, you broke up with a guy because he wore 'weird socks'. which, by the way, i do." you pointed to your feet, adorned in blue socks that were decorated with spongebobs.

"when you do it, it's cute. when a guy does it, it's... eugh."

"maybe you just think i'm cute." you grinned, taking another swig out of the bottle before passing it to the blonde who simply rolled her eyes and took a large swig before passing it back. drinking with sarah was always the worst; it always made you focus on her lips, on the way her neck bobbed when she swallowed, how the more she drank, a small drop of the alcohol would stay on her lips, the girl swiping it away with her finger and making it disappear by sucking the tip of her finger into her mouth.

"could be." sarah grinned, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. "i've always thought that if i was gonna be with a girl it'd be you."

you nearly choked on the expensive wine as you heard the blonde say that, coughing and sputtering as you looked at the amused smile that took over her lips at your reaction, the girl biting down on her lower lip.

"you know, i'd totally be down," you put the bottle on your nightstand, narrowing your eyes and cocking your head to the side, "but you couldn't handle me." you said in a challenging tone, crossing your arms in front of your chest.

"oh, yeah?" sarah said, leaning closer to you, pressing her cleavage together with her arms, and you weren't completely sure if she was doing it intentionally or not. "why do you figure?"

you brought your finger to her chin, pulling her even closer until her lips were only a breath away from yours, slowly letting your hand travel down her neck, feeling her pounding heart under your fingertips. "because the moment i touch you..." you whisper, pressing a featherlight peck on her lips, "you're gonna unravel."

sarah's pupils were blown wide, flickering between your eyes and your lips, the girl letting out a warm breath, her hand going to rest on your jaw "i bet i won't."

you pressed your lips on hers, hungrily, like you'd die of starvation if you didn't devour her right in that spot. one of your hands went to her waist, tugging her closer to you, while the other one tangled into her blonde hair.

it felt as if time stopped as your tongues danced, the girl tasting of the red wine you'd shared and the remnants of her cherry lip gloss, your layers of clothing slowly disappearing while the two of you were tangled into one another until you were both in your underwear, your lips trailing down her neck to her collarbone as your hand was kneading her breast through her lacy bra, sarah letting out soft whimpers, once that you'd spent so long wondering what they sounded like.

your lips pressed kisses on her chest, sarah's head thrown back as you mumbled against the flesh of her breast, "can i take this off?" your fingers trailing over the lace of her bra, goosebumps appearing on her soft skin.

"mmhm. yeah." the girl hummed, and you could feel her heart racing against your hand as you unclasped her bra, sliding it down her arms painfully slowly before discarding it on the floor, looking at her bared breasts with your bottom lip between your teeth to stop yourself from letting out a moan. slowly, you brought your lips down to her nipple, rolling your tongue around it and listening to the pretty noises sarah was letting out, pressing a gentle kiss on the hardened bud before sucking it into your mouth, twirling your tongue around it while your other hand's fingers pinched her other nipple, sarah letting out moans that had you soaking. "oh, f-fuck…"

you hummed against her nipple, sending vibrations down her body, before you let it out of your mouth with a wet pop, smirking at how unraveled sarah already looked under you, her eyes hazy as she looked at you. settling yourself between her legs, you looked down at the wet patch on her red, lacy panties, making you hungry. you pressed your thumb at her puffy clit, rolling it through her panties. "you want me to take these off?"

"mmhm…" sarah mumbled, biting down on her lower lip.

"yeah?" you let out a teasing chuckle, adding pressure onto your thumb as you rolled it over her clothed clit, "how badly?"

"ugh, please…" she groaned, "please, just take 'em off."

you let out another chuckle, "so desperate for me." but you still hooked your fingers around the waistband of her panties, sarah lifting up her hips to help you take them off, and you slowly slid them down her legs. instead of throwing the pair on the floor with the rest of your clothes, you placed it in your nightstand drawer, "i'm keeping those."

you spread her legs even further, settling yourself back between them as you looked down at her pussy, glistening with her arousal. you gave her puffy clit a flick, causing the girl's back to arch on the bed, "please..." she mumbled, making you let out a small chuckle.

"i wanna taste you..." you spoke softly as you moved to lay on your stomach, sarah lifting up her head to look at you as you hook your arms under her thighs.

you licked a stripe up her wet slit, letting a moan against her cunt; you'd spent so many nights imagining how it might feel, how she might taste, involuntarily rutting your hips against the bed for some friction, your grasp on her thighs tightening as you sucked on her puffy clit. in reality; none of your fantasies matched up to the real thing. you were completely lost in her, only caring about the pretty noises leaving sarah's lips, the breathy moans, your name turning high-pitched when you touched her just right.

you brought your ringed fingers to her entrance, the girl so slick with arousal that your middle- and ring fingers slid into her like a dream, sarah clenching around your digits, "so fucking wet f'me, hm?" you chuckled against her clit as you stilled your fingers inside of sarah, her back arching off the bed, "you're the best thing i've ever tasted, i swear..."

"please..." she whined, and you slowly started pumping your long fingers in and out of her, your other hand holding onto her thigh so tightly you were sure it'd leave a mark shaped like your hand as you continued flicking her clit with your tongue, moving your fingers in and out of her, arching inside of her until you felt your fingers bump against the spongy spot inside of her, sarah's legs starting to twitch, the girl involuntarily trying to close them as soon as you did.

you let out a chuckle, now continuing to move with more purpose and confidence, arching your fingers as her walls slowly clenched around you, looking up to see the girl's face twisted in bliss before bringing your lips back to her clit, grinding your hips against your mattress, letting out a moan that vibrated throughout your best friend's body.

feeling her hand twisting in your hair, softly tugging told you enough, causing you to slightly pick up your pace as sarah stuttered "i-i'm c-c-"

"shhh..." you mumbled against her clit, "just let it happen... so good f'me..."

you continued moving your fingers inside of sarah until the girl let out a loud moan of your name, arching her back off the bed, her walls clenching around your fingers so tightly it felt like she had imprisoned them inside of her. you slowed down your movements but didn't halt them, wanting the girl to be able to come down from her high before you did, and once the pulsing around your fingers slowed down, you pulled your soaked fingers out of sarah, wrinkled from how aroused she'd been, letting go of her clit with a small pop, pressing a soft peck on it.

you kissed your way up her stomach, leaving small, wet prints on her tanned skin until you were face-to-face with her, sarah looking at you dazedly as you smiled and let out a small chuckle, a gesture that she returned almost immediately, the sides of your noses bumping together when you slowly brought your lips to hers, and unlike your first kiss, this one was soft, tender, and slow.

"so." you spoke against her lips, looking into her dark eyes, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "did i unravel you? or do i need to do that again?"

"you did..." sarah mumbled breathlessly looking at you behind her half-lidded eyes, "but i wouldn't say no to you unraveling me again."

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Big Guy Big Belly

König is a big man, and with a big man comes a big appetite. We’re talking about a 6’10 man constantly maintaining his peak physique. He needs to be consuming as many calories and as much protein, carbs, fats, fiber and more to keep himself in fit and fighting shape.

At the canteen, he’s a nightmare. I bet that people rush to the cafeteria just to make sure they get something to eat before the big man on base rolls up. He’ll clear out the bins if he gets a chance. There’s a rumour on base that the reason König fought so hard to climb the ranks so quickly was just to be able to eat more and get away with it. Little do they know that they’re absolutely right, but König will never say that out loud. Ever. There’s some secrets you take to your grave. 

Either way, König is a menace in the canteen. He’ll pile his plate as high as he can when he gets a chance. He’s packing away all he can get in the shortest amount of time he can, and everyone has to suffer for it. The worst part is that everyone has to rush to get to the caf before König, and König knows exactly what others are doing, so he’s in a daily race against the entire base to eat his fill. It’s always a photo-finish to see who gets to the cafeteria first.  König currently has been slacking, so he’s not been eating like he normally has. Is he mad? Not really. He’ll clean out the snack cart later. 

He’s a monster late at night. Everyone knows that you need to leave the big man to his snacks, lest you face the wrath of the colossus on base. Well, wrath in a peculiar way. He just gets quiet and angry, but it’s still not a fun experience to try and fight him for a sandwich. If you take the last egg salad sandwich you’ll be at the top of his shit list for the next week. Don’t even think he won’t track you down. He’ll throw around his rank just to get his hands on the poor bastard. Nobody is safe, either.

Stiletto only once took the last pudding cup. Once. She never made that mistake again. For a week he was giving her dirty looks over a cold shoulder as he bumbled down the hall. She eventually had to give in and sacrifice a desert to be able to get back in his good graces. She still thinks he’s a massive bitch because of it. And you know what? She’s right. Everybody knows she’s right, König included, but he’ll keep going after whoever ‘steals’ ‘his’ snacks. They get along a bit better now that they’ve both advanced in rank and worked together, but there was a good period of time where Stiletto had to sleep with one eye open.

It gets a bit better for everyone when König finally finds a partner and doesn’t stay on base so often. Everyone takes a moment to pray for the poor soul who has to cook for König whenever he gets home from deployment.

See, during deployment, König can’t be such a massive bitch about food. He gets his rations, and that’s that. He can’t steal from anybody else, so he gets stuck with these pitiful MREs that barely fill him up. It’s miserable, and he’s losing weight like crazy when on the field. He’s running on fumes and burning calories like crazy as he’s risking his life out there. It’s gotten to a point where König has taken to eating with hostages post-rescue to ‘help them feel safer’ (read: get more food into his gullet). Thankfully, he puts his best foot forward when dealing with victims of trauma and ensures that he has somebody else do all the socializing while he plays with the kids after dinner. Apparently, after the inevitable shower of tears whenever kids have to face König, he becomes pretty popular. They love to use him as a jungle gym (and make fun of him) and he’s just happy to get more to eat. He’ll take being called ‘bigger than even my dad!’, being told ‘you’re weird’ or being asked ‘why are you so big and scary all the time?’ any day for a little extra to eat. He can tolerate a few kids. He won’t ever admit that hanging around them makes him want some kids of his own, or at least not to Horangi, who’s already teasing König about being a surrogate father to the kids. König tells him to keep it to himself, but Horangi is already buying things for the baby shower.

Once König finally comes home, that’s when all Hell breaks loose. This man has been starving and he needs food NOW. He won’t take no for an answer. If you don’t have something prepared, he’ll be ordering a massive order of takeout the likes of which you’ve never seen before in your life. He’ll hit multiple places on his way back to your place if he doesn’t think you’ve been able to get something together for him. If you can’t cook, he won’t even bother telling you to cook for him and just focus on getting a whole banquet of junk food ready for when he arrives home. He brings the pizzas in the door before he even brings in his own bags. You’ll have to go out and grab his bag as he sets up his personal buffet table. The worst part is despite how much he can shove down, he always buys more than he can eat, so you’ve got a couple of days worth of food to shove in the fridge at the end of the night.

If you can cook, this is a multi-day experience. Is it rewarding? Absolutely. Is it painful? Abso-fucking-lutely. He’s got you slaving for hours a day just to get him a nice home cooked meal. You’ll be going all out to get him a big enough meal. We’re thinking a tray of mac and cheese, a whole roast chicken, easily a handful of loaded baked potatoes. If you have something from your traditional cuisine, he’s not picky, he’ll gobble it up in a heartbeat. Knowing you made it for him is more than enough for him. Food is the way to a man’s heart, some say, and König will never let you go if you treat him like the king he is.

The good thing about cooking König such a big meal is that he gives back. He’s not a fan of cooking, but for the next few days he’ll take over cooking and cleaning in the kitchen. It’s just an easy way for him to give back, you know? He can’t thank you enough with words, so why not with actions?

But the best part of König giving back is that he’s an excellent cook. He cooks mostly traditional food from his culture, but he’s down for some french or italian cooking if you’re into it. He can make a mean lasagne. He does not skimp on the cheese, this man. No he’s a cheese fiend. If you’re lactose intolerant, you’ve got another thing coming for you. He will hand feed you lactaid just for the meal. If you have a dietary restriction, he’ll learn how to cook your types of meals in abundance. He’s perfect that way. Vegetarian, vegan, keto, no matter what, he’s got your back. He’s learned how to make an excellent spread for a dinner party, and part of learning to cater to others is to work around other people’s diets; his mother drilled that rule into his little head as a kid. He does it without complaint, too. For at least a week after coming home, he’s just so happy to be around food in abundance again. He’s absolutely thriving in the kitchen before the thrill wears off and he’s back to avoiding cooking like the plague again.

He loves to eat, but usually hates to cook. He’ll mostly eat takeout until he actually has to eat a nutritious meal again for a change. It’s not that cooking is awful, it’s just that he hates doing the dishes. He’d be far more inclined if he didn’t have to do the dishes afterwards. If you take over dishes, he’ll definitely step up his game for the both of you.

All in all, König loves to eat. He’s a big man with a bigger appetite, as hard as that is to believe. Once he retires he has to learn to cut back a fair bit, but he never loses his taste for sweets and snacks. It’s just something you’ll have to learn to live with.

[spacedace]

Still thinking about the Social Worker Jazz concept that @gilbirda posted about and it's slowly turning into a full Anger Management fic send help

-

Jason at length - much longer than it really should have taken really - set the resume down.

The new Social Worker’s resume. Because she was there, in his office, trying to convince him to hire her as a member of his criminal organization.

Crime Alley’s new social worker. A bright eyed Midwestern transplant from some tiny speck of a place that only qualified as a city because there was nothing bigger in a hundred miles in any direction to claim otherwise. The new social worker who had a Psy D. and three masters degrees and who had graduated Valedictorian. The one that had high paying private gigs lined up all over the country with the offering companies fighting over her.

The one who had, apparently, decided to take a shit job in Gotham’s shoddy social services department instead. The one that got kicked to Crime Alley - which was its own division despite technically being a small neighborhood in the grand scheme of things - within her first month. Supposedly for the sole purpose of scaring her off or getting her killed for all the questions she was asking and secret dealings she was sticking her nose into.

That social worker.

“I’m gonna need you to run this by me again.” Jason said, never so grateful for the voice modulator in his helmet as he was in that moment. It stripped out the bewilderment that had bled through into his words and made him sound stoic instead.

“I’d like to work for you.” The social worker - one Dr. Jasmine Nightingale - repeated primly. Back straight, clothes neat - if skewing more on the librarian side of professional - expression confident and hopeful. Completely and utterly oblivious of how fucking insane she sounded. “I was told that you’re the person in charge of Crime Alley.”

He resisted the urge to scrub at his face. It’d just look weird with his helmet on and not do anything to actually settle him in that moment anyway. “I understood that part.”

“Look, Doc,” She earned a doctorate and she was crazy enough to waltz into the office of one of Gotham’s most powerful Crime Lords, he’d be respectful about using her proper title at least, even if he suspected she was ten pounds of crazy in a five pound bag. “You’re going to have to tell me why. I was under the impression the only reason you ended up dumped on our end of the city ws because you wouldn’t play ball. But now you want to sign up for my crew?”

Nightingale frowned a little at that.

“Is that what people are saying?”

“What else are they gonna say?” Jason answered, leaning back in his seat, “Head of the department only dumps Crime Alley on folks he don’t like. And everyone knows he doesn’t like anyone that can’t or won’t play his game by his rules.”

“Alright, well. I’ll give you that.” Nightingale conceded, “Payne doesn’t like me. The feeling’s mutual. But for the record,” She added giving him a wry smile, as if sharing wry smiles with Red Hood was just something people did, “I asked to be assigned to the Park Row and Bowery neighborhoods.”

“You wanted to work here.”

“Yes.”

“Bullshit.”

Nightingale laughed. It was a bright sound. Not especially clear or pretty, but warm and welcoming in a way that carefully calculated giggles or overdone guffaws couldn’t be. Something with real and honest amusement in it, that encouraged those nearby to laugh along. Not the kind of involuntary, nervous chuckling people tended to slip into when they thought they had pissed someone that scared them off.

She just wasn’t intimidated by him at all, was she?

Behind his helmet, Jason found himself smiling. Just a bit.

“I’m serious.” She assured, blue-green eyes meeting the dark stare of his helmet without a moment of hesitation. He watched as she brushed a lock of her bright red hair behind her ear and out of the way. She’d woven it all into a practical, neat braid but a few sly pieces had snuck out to bounce around her. Gilding her quiet professionalism with a playful charm that worked well with her academia but make it cottagecore kindergarten teacher aesthetic.

“I’ll admit, Gotham wasn’t part of my plan when I first graduated. Time and choices take you funny places sometimes.” She plucked an invisible bit of lint off her soft blue cardigan, not nervous but absent as her gaze went distant for a moment. Thinking back on the events that had led her to his fine city. In a blink, those sharp eyes were back to focusing entirely on him. “But Gotham is where I am now, and I want to help.”

She looked at him, a serious, determined expression settling easily on her face. “The city as a whole has so much chaos and crime breaking out all the time.” No censure or horror in her voice, just a neutral fact to be observed. “But where the rest of the city has millions of dollars poured into it by various foundations or charities run by the Waynes, Park Row is largely ignored.”

Jason watched as steeliness sharpened her gaze, the blue-green shifting from the shine of a bird’s wing to the warning hue of something poisonous and deadly. “No one deserves that. No one.” Her chin tilted up, proud but not imperious. “So yes, I want to work here. There are people in Park Row and the Bowery who need help and I refuse to let any of them feel like they are going to be ignored.”

Jason considered her.

Really looked at her. Pealing back his initial off handed impression of her as some clueless transplant in over her head with no idea of what she was doing or what she was poking her nose into to find the real woman beneath. Her confident poise, her clear unshakable belief, her unflinching willingness to look danger in the eye and not blink. The tense curve of her frown, the lines of pain at the corners of her eyes, the simmering anger beneath it all. There was an edge to her, too. Something sharp and dangerously well hidden by the cardigan and folksy charm of her accent.

It was personal for the woman before him, Jason realized. Maybe not Crime Alley specifically, but something about the whole situation. The treatment the neighborhood and its residents received from the city at large, from those even beyond it.

Crime Alley wasn’t a place that received much in the way of charitable thought. The average joe with their house in Somerset and job at some corporate shithole hating every second of their life but thinking at least I don’t live in Crime Alley. Those asshole hoity-toites in city hall throwing money around equally between shit that’d get them re-elected and their off-shore slush funds in the Caymens doing their damn level best to pretend the black mark on the other end of the city just didn’t exist. Bruce, flooding the entire city with charitable programs and carefully constructed infrastructures shying away from the manifested grief and trauma that was the place he watched his parents get murdered.

For the most part no one from outside of the Alley gave a shit about the Alley other than as a place to avoid at all costs. And most of the time those natives that manages to claw their way out into better and brighter lives didn’t ever turn to glance back. Orpheus could have learned a thing or to from an ex-Alley Kid who managed to eek out a steady 9-to-5 and move to Burnley.

And something about that seemed to piss Dr. Jasmine Nightingale Psy. D right the fuck off.

He could see why Bill said he liked her enough to let her in.

“Alright.” He said, tilting his head, watching the woman seated across from him carefully, “Still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here. Why you’re trying to get on my payroll.”

“I’m not trying to get on your payroll.” She said, some of the glinting edge softening, but the steel remaining. Strong and unyielding. “I’m trying to get into your community outreach program.”

Jason thanked god and all the saints once again for the gift of his helmet. That baby had saved his ass more times than he could count both by keeping his head in one piece and keeping his stupefied expressions wrapped up and hidden from view. Dr. Nightingale was one hell of a woman to make him have to rely on that fact twice in one conversation.

“Wasn’t aware that was something I had.”

Nightingale, not fortunate enough to have a full face covering helmet of her own, had nothing to hide her stupefied expression behind. Jason had a feeling she might have removed it to make sure he saw even if she did though. She looked like she had caught him eating glue like it was a cheese stick.

“Yes you do.” She said, sounding deeply confused but unshakable confident in what she was saying. “I’ve seen it. The soup kitchens, the shelters, the collection boxes for donating old clothes, the after school day care.” Nightingale ticked off on her fingers, “I’ve lived here for less than two weeks and I’ve lost count of all the things I’ve seen setup to help people struggling in the area that I’ve been very reliably informed you and your organization are behind.”

Oh.

Those.

“Those aren’t part of some community outreach program.” He said, “We are simply locals offering services for our neighbors.”

He watched as her caught-him-eating-glue expression shifted into one that said she’d stumbled upon him licking electrical sockets for a mid-day pick-me-up instead. He had to give it to her, the woman was not afraid to let one of the most dangerous men in the city know she thought he was a fucking idiot.

“Let me see if I understand this right.” She said, and he appreciated that there wasn’t any kind of condescension in her voice, even though she very clearly thought he’d been dropped on his head as a baby. Possibly from the top of a three story building. “You have a large group of people working together to plan, organize and execute multiple services in your area - your community, if you will - that provide aid and support to those that otherwise would not receive it. Reaching out with your available time and resources to offer these services, that you provide. For free.”

Alright, Jason got it. He had stumbled ass backwards into creating a community outreach program. But he wasn’t just going to let her think she won this one. He was Red Hood, he had a reputation to uphold here.

“What makes you think any of that is free?” He tilted his head at just the right angle, the one that cast shadows across the planes of his helmet and made him look hell-touched and terrifying. “Just because we don’t charge money, doesn’t mean there isn’t a price to pay.”

Dr. Nightingale, dressed like a damn kindergarten teacher, laughed at him.

[ekybrini]

Back to Strangers | LUKE HUGHES

— ⟡ summary | Libby Carter, a college student who has sworn off any athletes after hearing the amount of rumors of how they treat people. When Luke Hughes, a persistent hockey player, starts pursuing her as part of a bet with his friends, Libby is determined to keep her distance. But as they spend more time together, she starts to question whether his feelings are real or just part of the game.

— ⟡ warnings | none (that i know of)

— ⟡ word counts | 1.9k

— ⟡ gab's note | hii ! im so excited to finally start writing again after a while. I finally got the energy to actually write something after months and come back to tumblr. hopefully I can post more (senior year is kicking my ass at the moment so hopefully after the semester is over I can post and write more!) I think this can potentially become a au (we'll see!) anyways im sorry for the inactiveness, but I promise to try to be more active! also I apologize for how long this is

“Dude, I’m just saying, you’re all talk,” Ethan teased, leaning across the booth at their usual hangout, a local diner near campus. The rest of the guys Seamus, Mackie, and a couple of others were clearly enjoying this way too much.

“I’m not ‘all talk,’” Luke shot back, stabbing his fork into his pancakes. “I just don’t waste my time on relationships.”

“That’s because you couldn’t even if you tried,” Mackie chimed in with a smug grin.

Luke snorted. “Yeah, okay.”

“No, seriously,” Seamus added, leaning in. “You think you could get any girl you want, but there’s one who would never go for you.”

Ethan smirked, a challenge lighting up his eyes. He gestured subtly across the room. “Libby Carter.”

Luke followed his gaze and saw her immediately. Libby sat alone at a table, curled over a thick textbook, twirling a pen between her fingers. Her long brown hair was pulled up into a messy bun, and she was dressed in oversized Michigan sweatpants and sweatshirt that swallowed her frame. She was pretty, no doubt, but there was something about her that seemed untouchable. She didn’t go to parties and barely looked at guys, she was mostly in her own world.

“Good luck with that,” Mackie added.

Luke leaned back in his seat, his smirk growing. “You guys really think I couldn’t make her fall for me?”

Seamus grinned. “Bet you fifty bucks you can’t get her to fall for you by the end of the year.”

Luke’s eyes gleamed with a mixture of challenge and amusement. “Easy money.”

“Hold on.” Ethan raised a hand, cutting through the banter. “Fall for you. Not just go on a date. Not just hook up. She has to actually like you.”

Luke thought for just a moment, the implications settling in. That was different. But his pride wouldn’t let him back down.

“Fine,” he said, shaking on it.

☆

Libby Carter had three rules coming to college:

1. Keep your grades up.

2. Avoid distractions.

3. Never, under any circumstances, date an athlete.

The last rule wasn’t some baseless prejudice. It was a fact. The University of Michigan athletics team, specifically the hockey team had a reputation of a mix of cocky attitudes, effortless charm, and just enough talent to make girls “fall” for them before moving on like the next game on their schedule. Libby had seen it happen too many times, and she wasn’t about to be another statistic.

Which is why, when Luke Hughes star defenseman, future devil player, and walking definition of temptation started showing up everywhere she went, she found it incredibly weird.

Libby was used to keeping her distance, to keeping people at arm's length, especially athletes who believed they could charm their way into anyone’s heart. She had more important things to focus on like her studies, her future, and avoiding distractions at all costs.

But Luke was persistent. The first time he approached her, she brushed him off.

"I’m really not interested," she said, her voice cool and detached as she glanced at him, then quickly looked away.

Luke didn’t back down. "I get it, but I just wanted to say hi. No pressure."

She raised an eyebrow. "Hi? That’s all you came over here for?"

He nodded, smiling a little. "Yep. I promise, I’m not trying to sell you anything."

She chuckled dryly. "Well, congratulations, you’ve succeeded in being the most annoying person I’ve met today."

Luke laughed, unfazed. "I’ll take that as a compliment. Can I try again tomorrow?"

She shook her head, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "no.”

"I’ll be back." he said, grinning

And with that, he left her with a lingering sense of curiosity.

The second time, she shot him a look that could have frozen him in his tracks. But Luke wasn’t one to give up easily. And when it came to proving something to his teammates, he never backed down.

"Seriously?" she said, her voice like ice. "You’re still here?"

Luke’s confidence wavered for just a moment, and he almost considered turning around and walking away. But he shook off the fear, his pride kicking in. He wasn’t about to back down out of the bet now.

"Yeah," he replied, his voice a little tighter than he intended. "Still here. Just thought I’d try again."

She crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing to slits. "And what exactly are you trying to prove? That you’re persistent?"

"Maybe," Luke said, forcing himself to stand tall despite the sudden unease. "But I’m also a man of my word. I said 'tomorrow' last time. I’m just here to keep my promise."

Her gaze didn’t soften, but he could’ve sworn there was a flicker of something in her eyes was it amusement? He couldn’t tell.

"You’re relentless," she muttered.

Luke let out a nervous laugh, trying to regain his footing. "I like to think of it as determination."

She raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed, but her stance was a little less intimidating now. "Well, don’t think you’re winning any awards here."

Luke held up his hands in mock surrender, forcing a grin. "No awards. Just a friendly hello. That’s all."

He was still shaking off the sting of that cold look, but something told him he wasn’t done yet.

☆

It wasn’t long before Luke’s presence became impossible to ignore.

At first, Libby thought it was just a coincidence when she saw him in the library, a place she frequented to escape the chaos of the dorms and study in peace. Luke, the star defenseman who could have any girl he wanted, hunched over a stack of papers and books, clearly out of his element. She thought maybe he was there for the same reason quiet study time though she had her doubts.

When the pattern repeated itself, though, Libby had to admit something odd was happening. Luke showed up at the coffee shop right when she ordered her regular, a steaming caramel macchiato. He somehow ended up sitting next to her in the huge lecture hall, despite having no real reason to be there. He started bringing up random facts about in economics, as if trying to make conversation in their econ class. Libby had no patience for it, but even she couldn’t deny the way he challenged her, poked at her intellectual comfort zone. And the more she pushed him away, the more he persisted.

“Do you have a reason for following me around?” Libby finally demanded one day after they ran into each other in the library for what felt like the hundredth time.

Luke looked up from his notes, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “Who says I’m following you?”

“You sit next to me in class, even though you’ve never done it before.”

“Maybe I realized Econ is more fun with company.”

“You don’t even take notes.” libby said with clear annoyance.

“I have a great memory aka photographic memory,” Luke shot back with a wink.

Libby rolled her eyes, clearly fed up. “Look, if this is some kind of game, I’m not playing.”

Luke leaned back in his chair, the easy smile never leaving his face. “What makes you think it’s a game?”

“Because no one suddenly starts to follow around someone unless they have something they want.”

His eyebrows furrowed slightly. “and what exactly would i want?”

“you know exactly what i’m talking about” she said, narrowing her eyes at him. “Girls who don’t fall for the whole hockey player charm.”

Luke hesitated, unsure how to respond. Part of him knew she wasn’t entirely off base. But that didn’t mean he was going to give up just yet.

“I like a challenge,” he said with a shrug, flashing her a grin.

Libby scoffed. “Good luck with that, Hughes.”

And yet, she couldn’t help but notice the way he lingered just a little bit longer, his eyes never quite leaving her.

☆

Luke had noticed Libby sitting alone in the corner of the library for the past few days. Her nose buried in a textbook, surrounded by notebooks, and coffee cups. She was quiet and intense.

But there he was, walking up to her table, feeling the weight of his decision with every step. His friends had dared him. They had said it would be funny if he actually pulled it off. But deep down, Luke wasn’t sure why he wanted to get to know Libby. Maybe it was the challenge, or maybe it was because there was something about her that made him want to prove he could get through the wall she put up. Either way, he knew one thing for sure he was going to try.

He cleared his throat as he reached her table, leaning against the edge to keep his balance. Libby didn’t even look up, her eyes scanning the pages of her book with laser focus.

“what do you want hughes?” Libby said clearly annoyed of his presence

"Hey, Libby," he said, trying to sound casual, but his voice came out a little more nervous than he intended.

She didn’t respond. Her fingers flipped to the next page, like she hadn’t heard him at all.

Luke hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should continue or just walk away. But the thought of his friends would not let him back down now. He took a deep breath and tried again.

"I was, wondering if you’d want to study together for the upcoming econ test?" he asked, unsure of what he was really expecting. The words sounded stupid even to him, but he pushed forward. "I mean, we both know this material. Thought it might be easier to go over it with someone else, you know?"

Libby’s eyes flickered up to meet his, just for a brief second, before she went back to her book, clearly unimpressed.

"I study alone," she said, her voice flat and uninterested.

Luke didn’t take the rejection well, but he wasn’t about to let it go so easily. He had a point to prove, both to his friends and to himself. So, he pressed on.

"I get that. I mean, I do too," he said, trying to sound cool, like they were just two people casually discussing a study session. "But it’s just, uh, I heard you’re pretty good at this stuff. You know, the whole economic thing. And I figured you might want to go over a few things with me. Could help you out too, right?"

He could feel her staring at him, though she said nothing. He was so close now that he could almost see the tiny furrow in her brow, the slight irritation building behind her eyes. He knew this wasn’t going well, but Luke wasn’t the type to give up. He leaned in a little closer.

"I’m serious. I’m not asking for a charity case or anything," he added quickly, trying to sound more genuine. "I just thought it’d be a good way to get this over with."

Libby’s gaze stayed fixed on him for a long moment, studying him like he was some kind of puzzle she was trying to figure out. Luke braced himself for her to turn him down again, but then, to his surprise, she spoke.

"Fine," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I’ll study with you, but only if you leave me alone after this, especially with following me around."

Luke blinked, not sure if she was being sarcastic or serious, but he nodded quickly, trying to mask the sudden burst of excitement in his chest. "I get it. Just, you know, the studying part."

Libby gave him a curt nod. "Yeah, whatever. We’ll meet here tomorrow, same time." She turned her attention back to her notes, clearly signaling that the conversation was over.

Luke stood there for a moment, processing what had just happened. He’d actually gotten her to agree. He had spent so much time imagining how this would go, and it had ended with Libby of all people giving in. It wasn’t the most enthusiastic acceptance, but it was something. He smiled to himself, relieved that he hadn’t been shot down completely.

"Thanks, Libby," he said, his tone genuinely appreciative. "I won’t let you down."

She didn’t respond, her eyes now fixed firmly on her textbook as she scribbled notes with a speed that almost made Luke dizzy. He stood there for a moment longer, watching her, unsure of what else to say or do. Finally, he turned and walked away, the sound of her pen on paper the only noise filling the quiet of the library.

The next day, Luke showed up early, a little nervous but excited to see how it would go. He had never studied with someone like Libby before. She was serious, focused, and didn’t waste time with small talk. It was a stark contrast to his usual study sessions with his friends, where there was always some kind of distraction or joke in the air. But Luke was determined to make the most of it.

Libby was already there, sitting in the same spot, her books spread out in front of her. She didn’t even look up when he walked in, which, somehow, made Luke feel a little more at ease. He grabbed a chair, sitting down across from her, trying his best to ignore the fact that she was barely acknowledging his presence.

"Ready?" he asked, hoping to break the silence.

She didn’t respond right away. Instead, she just gave him a quick glance, then sighed as she flipped through her notes.

"Let’s get this over with," she said, and Luke couldn’t help but grin.

She didn’t like him, but she had agreed to study. And for now, that was enough.

After a while, one study session became a whole month study session. In which both of them met twice a week to study together.

"That’s... impressive," he said, breaking the silence, his voice quiet but sincere.

Libby didn’t look up. "Yeah, well, it’s not that hard if you actually pay attention."

Luke chuckled, leaning against the table. "I don’t think I’ve ever been that focused on anything."

Libby finally glanced up at him, her expression unreadable. "Maybe you should start. Then you might pass the next test."

He raised his hands in mock surrender. "Fair point. But I’m hoping you’ll be my secret weapon."

A small smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. "I don’t do secret weapons," she said, her tone a little less harsh but still firm.

Luke smiled, feeling a brief sense of connection, even if it was just fleeting. "Alright, no secret weapons. Just trying to survive here."

For a long moment, there was just silence between them again. Luke shifted awkwardly, realizing he had no idea how to keep the conversation going. He wasn’t used to talking to someone who shut down his attempts at charm so easily. But there was something oddly comforting about it. She wasn’t impressed by him, and for the first time in a long while, Luke didn’t feel the need to prove himself.

Finally, he let out a quiet laugh. "I’ll leave you to it, then. See you tomorrow?"

Libby nodded without looking up. "Yeah. Don’t make me regret it."

Luke had always prided himself on being a guy who didn’t get emotionally attached. Relationships were messy. They took time, effort, and a lot of care. And that wasn’t something he was interested in. Not with his career on the line and his focus on hockey. But somehow, spending time with Libby made him rethink everything.

It wasn’t instant, but it was inevitable. He found himself waiting for their study sessions, looking forward to their debates in class, and wanting to hear her opinion on everything from the economy to the latest sports scandals. She was smart, sharp, and had a sense of humor that kept him on his toes. And for the first time in a long time, he didn’t feel like he was just playing a part or living up to some stereotype. With Libby, he was himself.

☆

It happened one night, during one of their late-night study sessions. They had finished working on their assignments, and the conversation had shifted from academic talk to something more personal.

“You really hate hockey players, don’t you?” Luke asked, his voice quieter than usual.

Libby sighed, rubbing her temples. “It’s not that I hate hockey players. It’s just that I’ve seen how you guys treat people. You come, you charm, and you leave. I’m not falling for that.”

Luke hesitated, the weight of her words hitting harder than he expected. “Not all of us are like that.”

Libby shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just too cautious, but I’ve seen too many girls fall for that routine.”

Luke wasn’t sure how to respond, but the sincerity in her voice made him realize just how much he was beginning to care about her. He didn’t just want to prove her wrong.

There was a long pause, the tension between them thick. The clock on the wall ticked away the seconds, but neither of them seemed in a hurry to break the silence. Luke’s mind raced, but he finally said what had been on his mind for a while now.

“Libby,” he started, his voice a little steadier now, though still laced with a touch of vulnerability, “we’ve been studying together for a month. And yeah, I get that you don’t really think highly of me or anyone for that matter. But... I’m not like that.”

She raised an eyebrow, not fully convinced, but she didn’t interrupt him.

“I’m not asking you to change your mind overnight,” he continued. “But I’d really like the chance to show you I’m different. To prove it, you know?” He took a deep breath. “At least go on one date with me. Just one. No pressure, no expectations. Just… a chance to get to know each other outside of these study sessions.”

Libby opened her mouth to respond, but Luke quickly added, “I’m not asking you to fall for me or anything, just let me take you out. And if you still think I’m just like every other hockey player after that, I’ll back off. I swear.”

There was a quiet moment where Libby just stared at him, her expression unreadable. Luke could feel his heart racing, wondering if he had just ruined everything, but at the same time, he was relieved to have said it. To have put it out there. He wasn’t sure what he’d expected her answer to be, but he knew he couldn’t hide how he felt about her any longer.

Finally, she exhaled slowly, shaking her head. “You’re really persistent, aren’t you?”

Luke smiled a little, trying to lighten the mood. “You could say that.”

She considered him for a moment longer before her lips curved into a small, almost reluctant smile. “Alright. One date. But I’m warning you, you’ll have to work hard to convince me.”

Luke’s heart skipped a beat, a mix of relief and excitement flooding him. “Deal. You won’t regret it, I promise.”

She shrugged, but there was something soft in her eyes that Luke hadn’t seen before. “We’ll see.”

With that, they both stood up, packing away their things in silence, but something had shifted between them. Something subtle, yet undeniable. Luke walked away from the study session feeling lighter than he had in a long time, knowing that for the first time, he was truly starting to break through the wall Libby had so carefully built around herself.

“alright, friday then, we’ll meet at my dorm and then head somewhere” luke said before walking out of the library.

☆

It wasn’t until Libby accidentally overheard a conversation between Luke and his friends that she realized the full extent of what was going on.

She was walking to the library when she caught a snippet of conversation.

“…can’t believe you actually pulled it off,” Ethan was saying. “She totally fell for you.”

Libby froze in her tracks. The weight of his words hit her like a punch in the gut. She stood there, just outside their line of sight, trying to keep herself hidden behind the row of books in the library. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but the words caught her off guard and dug deep. Her heart skipped a beat, her mind racing.

“Yeah, man,” Luke replied, sounding almost too casual, like it was no big deal. “I told you it’d work. Once I show her a little attention, she can’t resist.”

Libby’s stomach churned. Once I show her a little attention she can’t resist? Her pulse quickened, and she took a shaky step backward, the books in her arms suddenly feeling heavier. She wanted to leave, to run away and escape from the reality that was starting to settle on her. But something kept her frozen, something in the way Luke's voice sounded like he had no idea how much those words cut.

“I’ll give it a week,” Ethan laughed. “You’ll have her wrapped around your finger by then. You know how you are.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Luke muttered, a laugh escaping him. “I’ll make sure she has a good time. No need to worry.”

Libby couldn’t hear the rest of their conversation. She didn’t want to. The words echoed in her mind like an incessant drumbeat.

Libby had thought no, hoped that Luke was different. That maybe he wasn’t like all the other guys who had charmed their way in and out of her life. But as she replayed his words over and over, she couldn’t deny the sinking feeling in her chest. He had played her.

A part of her felt stupid for not seeing it sooner. How could she have been so naive? She had known what guys like him were like she’d seen it happen so many times before. The flirtation, the attention, the charm, and then, just as quickly, they moved on to the next girl, leaving behind a trail of disappointment. She had always sworn she wouldn’t fall for it. And now, here she was, feeling like she had walked right into the trap.

But the sting wasn’t just from the fact that he’d been playing her. It was from the fact that Luke seemed to believe it was all some kind of game something he could just turn on and off like a switch. Maybe he hadn’t meant to hurt her. Maybe he didn’t even realize what he was doing. But it didn’t matter. She had let herself get pulled in, thinking that there was more to him than that.

She stood there for a while, trapped in her own thoughts, until the sounds of his friends talking faded away. she had decided to come to the library a bit earlier then usual for there next study session bust after that conversation she went back to her dorm ghosting luke’s messages to see if she’s coming. She had already read them twice but hadn’t answered. Part of her wanted to tell him she wasn’t showing up, but another part of her just couldn’t bring herself to do it. Instead, she stared at the screen, her thumb hovering over the keyboard, but no words came.

Her fingers hovered over the screen again, and for the first time, she allowed herself to fully confront the fact that the trust she had begun to build with him was shattered. She had tried to convince herself that he wasn’t like the other guys the ones who came and went without a second thought. But now? She wasn’t so sure anymore.

She thought back to their first few study sessions, how she had actually started to enjoy spending time with him, how she believed he might actually be different. But now, the way he had spoken so nonchalantly, so carefree made her feel like nothing more than another notch in his belt. she didn’t admit it but she was starting to like him.

*What was I thinking?* she wondered. *I should’ve seen it coming.*

☆

Her phone buzzed again, this time a message from Luke. "Hey, are you still coming? i’m waiting for you. Let me know."

It’s been a couple days since they last talked. The words felt like a punch in the gut. It wasn’t just the fact that he was still trying to get her to show up it was how easy it seemed for him, like this was all a game. She had allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was something real there. But the more she thought about it, the more she realized how foolish she had been.

Libby stared at the text for a long time, not knowing what to do. She could go and face him, confront him about what she’d overheard. But the thought of seeing him, of hearing him casually brush it off like it was nothing, made her stomach turn.

So, she made a decision. She didn’t reply. Instead, she locked her phone and shoved it in her bag, the weight of it a reminder of everything she had tried to avoid everything she had hoped wasn’t true.

Back in his dorm, Luke checked his phone for the third time in a row, his heart sinking a little more each time. No response from Libby.

*Maybe she’s just busy,* he tried to tell himself. *She’s probably studying. She said she had work to do.*

"Man, you good?" Ethan asked, poking his head into Luke’s room.

Luke glanced up, forcing a smile. "Yeah, just waiting for Libby. She’s probably on her way."

Ethan gave him a skeptical look. "You sure? i thought you said you guys were gonna meet at the library? i doubt she’d ghost you, i mean you just asked her out.”

Luke's stomach dropped. *Ghost you.* He hated the way that sounded.

"I’m sure she didn’t." Luke said, but there was no conviction in his voice.

Ethan eyed him for a moment before shrugging. "Alright, man. Just don’t let this drag on. the semester is close to ending"

Luke didn’t respond.

☆

It had been a few days since Luke had last heard from Libby. The unanswered texts, the quiet air between them it weighed heavily on him. His mind raced, trying to figure out what had gone wrong. Was she mad at him for something he said? Did she really think he’d been playing her all along?

He tried to shake it off, but something kept gnawing at him. He needed to talk to her. He needed to fix whatever happened.

Without another second of hesitation, Luke grabbed his jacket and made his way to Libby’s dorm. His heart hammered in his chest with every step. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say, but he couldn’t just sit around waiting. He needed answers.

When he reached her building, the nervousness hit him harder. *What if she doesn’t even want to talk to me? What if I’ve ruined everything?* But he couldn’t back out now. Not after the hard work he put in to talk to her.

Luke knocked on her dorm door, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway. He waited, shifting from foot to foot, hoping she’d answer. Moments passed, and just as he was about to knock again, the door opened.

Libby stood there, her arms crossed, her face expressionless. She looked almost distant, like she had already made up her mind about everything.

“What do you want?” she asked, her voice colder than he expected.

Luke swallowed hard, his nerves threatening to betray him, but he pushed them down. “Libby, we need to talk. I don’t know what’s going on.”

She shook her head, the hurt in her eyes unmistakable. “No, Luke. We don’t need to talk. You need to leave.”

His stomach twisted at the finality in her tone. “What? Libby, please. Just hear me out”

“No, Luke,” she interrupted, her voice rising just a bit. “You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to waltz in here after what I overheard after what you said to make it seem like everything is okay.”

Luke blinked, confused and thrown off. “What are you talking about?”

“Is this how you see me?” Libby asked quietly, her voice cracking slightly. “Just another challenge for you to win? Another girl to charm, get close to, and then drop once you get what you want?”

Luke’s breath caught in his throat after realizing what she’s talking about. The look of betrayal in her eyes hit him harder than any physical blow.

“Libby, I—I didn’t mean for you to find out like this. It wasn’t like that. It was just”

“Just what, Luke?” she cut him off again, her voice steady now, but firm. “Just a bet? A game? You think I wouldn’t find out?” She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “I heard it with my own ears. You were talking to Ethan and the others, talking about how you could pull it off. About how I’d fall for you. About how it would be easy.”

Luke opened his mouth to speak, but she held up a hand to stop him.

“No,” she said, her voice trembling now, but her resolve stronger than ever. “I don’t want to hear it. Whatever it is, I don’t care. I don’t want to see you again, and I don’t want to talk to you again. Ever.”

His heart sank. “Libby, please. I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean for you to find out like this. You’ve got to believe me, I wasn’t playing you. I care about you. I really do like you.”

Libby’s eyes softened for a split second, but only for a moment. Then she took a deep breath and looked at him with a finality he hadn’t expected.

“No. You don’t. Not the way you think you do. You don’t get to act like this is something you care about after everything I heard. You don’t get to tell me what’s real when you’ve been lying from the start.”

Luke’s chest tightened. He couldn’t find the words, the right words to make this right. He’d messed up. He had been selfish. He’d been careless with her trust.

“I’m sorry,” was all he could manage to say. The words felt too small for the weight of what had happened.

“I don’t need your apologies, Luke. I need you to leave.”

His heart broke all over again as he stared at her, seeing the pain in her eyes, feeling the distance between them grow with each passing second.

Without another word, Luke turned to walk away, the heavy feeling in his chest making it feel like every step he took was an effort. He didn’t look back. He couldn’t. He knew he’d lost her. And this time, there was no coming back from it.

Libby closed the door softly behind him, her heart aching, but relieved. The door was closed now. The distance was real. She would never let herself fall for someone like him again.

Libby didn’t know what to think anymore. Luke had broken her trust. The bet was one thing, but hearing him confess his feelings so casually, like it was just some passing remark, left her feeling more betrayed than she cared to admit. She’d told him time and time again that she didn’t want to be a part of his games, but now it seemed like that was exactly what he had turned her into.

For days, Luke tried reaching out. Texts, calls, small gestures. But Libby wasn’t interested in anything he had to say. She couldn’t trust him anymore, and the walls she’d spent years building to protect herself from people like him felt taller than ever.

But Luke wasn’t about to give up, not when he finally understood that what he felt for her wasn’t just about the challenge.

It wasn’t at a game or a party, but in a quiet corner of the campus library that Luke finally caught her alone.

“Libby,” Luke said softly, his voice a little rough. She didn’t look up at first, but he didn’t let that deter him. He stepped closer to her table, his presence impossible to ignore. “Can we talk?”

Libby glanced at him briefly before her gaze fell back to the book she was pretending to read. She could feel the familiar sting of hurt, but something in his tone made her pause.

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” she said, though her voice lacked the usual edge.

Luke’s expression softened. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he began, “I should have told you sooner, but I got caught up in the bet. And I... I didn’t think I’d actually fall for you. I never expected this.”

Libby’s lips parted in surprise, but she didn’t speak.

“I like you and i know already told you,” he continued, his words slower now, more deliberate. “Not because of the challenge, not because of some stupid bet. But because of who you are. I know I messed up, and I’m sorry.”

Libby’s gaze lifted from the book to meet his eyes, searching for the sincerity she needed to hear. “You’ve been persistent,” she murmured, the words almost to herself. “But I’m not sure if you even know what you’re saying.”

Luke took a step closer, lowering his voice. “I know what I’m saying, Libby. I don’t want you to be another bet. You mean more to me than that, and I’ve messed up, but I want to make it right.”

The silence between them hung thick for a moment, the weight of his words settling. Libby looked at him, her heart torn, but the earnestness in his eyes made her hesitate.

“I need time,” she whispered, her heart racing. “But I’ll think about it.”

Luke smiled, the tension in his body loosening just a little. “I’ll wait.”

And for the first time, Libby allowed herself to believe that maybe just maybe there was a chance for something real between them after all, but she wasn’t going to give in right now.