#(because then people like me do stupid stuff like this)

[theemporium]

[6.1k] most of the league welcome a bye week as all-stars hits the season calendar. with both brothers picked and the rest of the boys on the team flying out somewhere warm for the break, luke has a decision to make. and that decision ends up being a staycation in new jersey with you—not that anyone else in his life really understand why. (smut)

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“Whoever is in charge of this schedule sounds like a sadist.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah!” You repeated with a small huff, staring down at your phone screen where—he presumed—you were looking at the Devils’ game schedule. “Surely there’s a better way than playing, like, three back to backs in such a short time span.” 

“It’s hockey,” Luke shrugged, like that somehow explained everything. “It’s just how it is. How it’s always been, to be honest.” 

“This makes no sense,” you grumbled, your eyes narrowed in distaste. “You literally played four games last week! Four! In the space of six days!” 

Luke snorted. “Yeah, Cherry, I’m fully aware. I was at the games. Playing.” 

You shot him a look before letting your brows furrowed in confusion. “I don’t get it.” 

“The schedule?” Luke asked. 

“No, the hockey player sex god stereotype,” you retorted. “How the hell do they find the time to even have sex? How the hell do they have the energy to even have sex?”

Luke tried—and mostly failed—to bite back his grin. “That’s your big question about hockey players?” 

“Yes,” you deadpanned. “I know you are professionals and all but surely this is a bit ridiculous.”

“Hockey is hockey,” Luke answered, shrugging once again. “It’s just always how it’s been.” 

“So, hockey players are sex gods and sadists,” you muttered to yourself, your focus back on your phone screen. “Good to know.” 

Luke only laughed in response. 

“I don’t get why they don’t just move some of the games to the first week in February,” you pointed out. “You have nothing on then.” 

“Because that’s when All-Stars is,” Luke answered. “They send a bunch of guys from different teams to compete in these challenges and stuff.” 

“Like the Hunger Games?” 

“I—” Luke’s nose scrunched up. “Yeah, but less death and violence. People usually stay nice for it.” 

“Have you been reaped?” You questioned, grinning a little. 

Luke rolled his eyes. “No, I have not. They choose the best.” 

You frowned. “You are the best. You’re the best hockey player I know.” 

Luke shot you a look. “I’m the only hockey player you know.” 

“Semantics,” you waved him off. “My point still stands.” 

“No, I get something better,” he stated. “I get a week off.”

You grinned. “Big plans?” 

Luke shrugged. “Honestly, I was just looking forward to a week without Jack banging on my door for morning skate.”

“So you’re going to spend the week hibernating,” you teased, lightly nudging his thigh with your foot. But before you could pull your foot back, Luke had grabbed your ankle and easily maneuvered your feet onto his lap. “God, I’ll need to find someone else to cook for me for a week then.” 

And the thing is that Luke knew you were just teasing. For all his claims of being a great cook (which he was, just in the few meals he actually knew how to cook), he had grown into a comfortable habit with you. He enjoyed spending time at your place. He enjoyed unwinding after bad games or grueling practices. He just enjoyed being around you, both before and after his recent realisation of his feelings. 

But now he was staring at you from across the couch, watching the way you were lounging in one of his old Michigan sweatshirts and just felt that overwhelming urge to say something stupid. 

Instead, he settled on, “you should come over.” 

You paused, raising your brows. “Come over where?” 

“To my place,” he said, feeling his cheeks heat up. “Jack will be gone and I’ll have the place to myself. We can just—” He paused, his brain going blank at the sight of your amused expression. “Chill.” 

“Chill?” You repeated, grinning.

“Chill,” he nodded, squeezing your ankle. “Just…I feel like…I’m always imposing in your space, you know? You can impose in my space too.” 

“You are a weird guy, Hughes,” you commented, though Luke liked to think you sounded fond when you spoke. 

“Is that a no?” He asked before he could help himself.

You beamed in response. “It’s not a no.” 

He felt something quite like hope spark in his chest. “So, it’s a yes?” 

“Depends,” your eyes glinted. “Are you still Team Stefan? Because if the answer is yes, I will have to decline.” 

Luke groaned. “I said that after we watched, like, three episodes! Stop holding that over my head!” 

…

“This sucks!” 

“Yes, it sucks so much being acknowledged for your skills,” Dawson deadpanned, watching the way Jack wandered around the locker room after practice, whining and complaining about everyone else making their Bye Week plans.

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Jack huffed, narrowing his eyes at the boy before shifting his attention to Nico, eyes wide and hopeful. “Take me with you? I want to go somewhere warm. I want to go somewhere where the chances of freezing my balls off are lower than zero.” 

“Dude,” Nate scrunched his nose, laughing. “We play ice hockey for a living, you can handle a bit of cold.” 

“Suck it up, superstar,” Curtis called out with a huge grin. “Gotta pay up for having the Hughes name on the back of your jersey.” 

“Moose lucked out,” Jack sighed. “I have Quinn and the bajillion Canucks players that are also going. I swear he rigged the thing.”

“Bajillion?” Nico repeated with a disgustingly fond expression.

“Bajillion,” Jack nodded. “There’s too many of them. No one needs that many Canucks in one place. It’s an infestation.”

“I’m surprised you even know what that word means,” Nate snorted. 

Jack glared. 

“You not going up to Toronto to support your brothers?” Dawson asked, turning his head to look over at Luke. However, the boy barely reacted. He repeated the question again, and one more time before finally throwing a ball of rolled up tape at the side of Luke’s head.

Luke tore his eyes away from his phone, snapping his head up to find half the locker room already staring at him. “What? What did I miss?” 

“Jack complaining about All Stars,” Curtis answered.

“Oh,” Luke blinked. “So nothing new then?” 

“You're not going to Toronto?” Nico asked this time, before Curtis could say whatever witty response he had ready to go.

“Uh, no,” Luke shook his head. 

“Scared you’ll steal their thunder?” Nate joked, patting Luke’s shoulder as he walked past to get to his stall. 

Jack snorted. “He thinks he’s too cool for Toronto. Probably following John to wherever the hell he is going.” 

John’s ears perked, turning whilst he was still removing some of his gear. “What? Luke said he didn’t want to come with us.” 

Jack paused, frowning a little before turning to Luke. “You’re not going away for the week?” 

Luke could feel his cheeks burning up. “No?” 

Jack’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. 

“At least he also won’t be somewhere warm,” Nico stepped in, a hand on Jack’s shoulder providing more than enough distraction from Jack asking questions as he turned to look at Nico with the embarrassingly obvious heart eyes he has always had for the captain.

It gave Luke the short reprieve he wanted, avoiding the other curious looks he was getting as he glanced down at his phone screen for a moment, grinning at the messages before he locked it and put it back in his bag so he could finish getting changed.

cherry🍒: i hope you know that i am using this opportunity to steal as many of your hoodies as i can before the week is over 

cherry🍒: consider this your one and only warning

…

It was surprisingly easy to prevent Jack from asking any more questions. 

A little too easy, if Luke was being honest. 

But Luke was also not an idiot so he didn’t question Jack’s silence after he mentioned a friend would be staying with Luke for the week. Jack had just stared blankly for a few moments before laughing, shaking his head and walking out the room, muttering something about needing to stop by Nico’s after he finished packing. Luke took it as the blessing it was and didn’t bring it up again.

Truthfully, it didn’t hit Luke how insane it felt to have you with him the whole week until he was running around the apartment, cleaning up whatever he could before his phone began ringing from the other room.

“Dude, you have shit timing.” 

Ethan laughed on the other side of the phone. “You’ve been ignoring me! I feel abandoned. What happened to the Luke who said he missed me?” 

“I never said that,” Luke retorted.

“Rude,” Ethan huffed. “Why do you sound so out of breath? Were you training or something?” 

“Nah, just tidying the place up,” Luke replied absentmindedly, staring at the hoodie he picked up on the floor with a frown. If he was being honest, he didn’t know if it was his or Jack’s, and usually he didn’t care. But the image of you wearing it thinking it belonged to him when in reality it was Jack’s passed his mind and he quickly shoved it into the washing basket. That would be a problem he dealt with later.

“Ugh, don’t even,” Ethan whined on the other side of the phone. “I’m so jealous, dude. I would kill to be on a beach somewhere right now.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” Luke muttered as he continued to pick up a few empty bottles of gatorade on the coffee table before pausing. “Wait, what? What the fuck are you on about? Who’s going to the beach?” 

Ethan sounded just as confused on the other side. “You?” 

“No, I’m not?” Luke replied, frowning. “I just told you, I’m at my place.” 

“Yeah, because you are tidying up before you fly out somewhere. For Bye Week.”

“Who told you that?”

“I thought it was obvious? Why the fuck would you not be flying out somewhere?” 

And honestly, Luke didn’t have much of a comeback for that one. Because to everyone else, it did seem weird. He knew that. He gathered as much from the rest of the boys’ reactions in the locker room the other day. He gathered it from Jack’s reaction and Quinn’s message (‘wtf rusty’) when he broke the news in the brothers group chat. 

He knew. 

But somehow trying to justify it to one of his best friends over the phone made him realise how fucking dodgy it sounded when none of them really knew about you.

“So, let me get this straight.” 

Luke let out a deep sigh.

“You declined on going up to Toronto with your brothers because you didn’t want to impose, or whatever dumb shit you said, and let them enjoy All-Stars.” 

“Yes.” 

“And then you had the offer to go to Cabo and the Bahamas with teammates, which you also declined.” 

“Mhm.” 

“And then you decided to stay in New Jersey instead of even visiting us up in Michigan with your week off?” 

“Yup.”

“Dude,” Ethan squawked, offended and confused and downright discombobulated. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Do you have a concussion? Is this like a mid-season breakdown? Do I need to call for help?” 

Luke rolled his eyes. “You’re always so dramatic.”

“I think I am being perfectly reasonable here.” 

Luke disagreed—majorly—but he valued his life so he stayed silent.

“You’re gonna get so bored staying in Jersey all week,” Ethan pointed out. “What are you even gonna do?” 

Luke opened his mouth to reply just as the buzzer sounded through the apartment. If anyone asked, he would deny the way his face instantly broke out into a smile. 

“Sleep my ass off. It’s hard being in the NHL,” Luke said in the snobbiest voice he could, letting Ethan cackle on the other side and try to get another word in before he spoke up again. “Look, I gotta run, I’ll call you later. Promise.” 

“He plays in the big leagues and thinks he’s so much better than us.” 

“I am better than you,” Luke grinned. “I remember winning beer pong.” 

“That doesn’t fucking count! Mark was the one who—” 

“Bye, Ethan!” 

Luke couldn’t hang up and rush to open the door fast enough. 

…

Deep down, he knew it was stupid for him to feel nervous about you staying over at his place for the week. 

He had stayed over at yours more times than he could count on one hand. You had become an integral part of his life in New Jersey. You were one of his closest friends. He knew you. He knew you knew him. There should have been nothing that made the week weird. 

But he couldn’t help but feel like it meant more. This was him inviting you to stay over for a few days, to stay at his place whilst his brother was out of town, to spend the week with him when he should be resting and drinking some overpriced cocktail on a beach somewhere warm. 

You were his friend but spending his whole stay-cation with him in his apartment like the two of you were playing house was something far from platonic. 

It was a bit of a mindfuck, but not as much as realising just how fucking easy it all was.

It was different from the various nights he spent at your apartment. It was different seeing you in his space, fitting into his life so easily. It was different seeing you relaxed and laid back, looking like you belonged. 

It was different from the night at his birthday party, where you were one of many faces. It was just you and him, standing in his kitchen or sitting on his couch or lying in his bed. It felt so different but so fucking good. 

Only a few days had passed and yet Luke forgot a time where you weren’t here, where you weren’t by his side throughout the whole day. 

It was dangerous but the warning signs were easy to ignore when his attention was fully focused on you.

“Are you calling me lanky?” 

“It was a compliment!” You insisted, but there was a smile on your face—not that he could see, considering your face was currently pressed against his chest as the two of you laid on the couch to watch the fastest skater skill event. “You would do well in this challenge. It would take you, like, five less strides than the rest of them.”

Luke snorted. “Geez, thanks.” 

“You’ll see,” you murmured, nuzzling your head further into his chest. “You’ll do it one day and win and know that I’m right.”

“And then you’ll tell me ‘I told you so’?” Luke guessed, his eyes now on you rather than the tv screen. 

“Obviously,” you replied, lifting your head so your chin was resting on the spot your cheek was squished against moments ago. “I’m always right, Hughes. The sooner you accept that fact, the easier your life will be.” 

Luke raised his brows in amusement. “So when you very confidently said that you loved that movie where Andrew Garfield played Batman—” 

“Shut up,” you groaned, lightly pinching his side but he quickly caught your hand. “We were watching Twilight! I was thinking about Robert Pattinson! I got confused!” 

“Uh huh,” Luke beamed. “Just always so right—”

“You’re being a dick,” you huffed, even if you were smiling. “Here I was trying to give you a compliment—”

“By calling me lanky.”

“—and this is the thanks I get,” you shook your head. 

Luke’s expression softened, his hand reaching up to tuck some hair behind your ear as he smiled down at you. “Thank you, Cherry. I appreciate the confidence.” 

“Confidence is sexy,” you retorted, your palms warm and comforting against his sides. “Soon you won’t need me to remind you.” 

“But I like when you say it,” Luke retorted.

“Professional athletes and their praise kinks,” you sighed, grinning a little when he reached down to pinch your side this time. 

“I’m the only professional athlete you know,” Luke pointed out, trying to ignore the twist in his stomach at the mere idea that maybe he wasn’t. That maybe you knew more, that maybe you had experience with more, that maybe they were far more experienced than him and—

“And you have a praise kink,” you said, interrupting his spiralling thoughts. “Therefore, my theory has not been disproved. I’m right.”

Luke’s cheeks burned hot. “I do not have a praise kink.”

You snorted, grinning as you lifted a hand to playfully squeeze his cheeks. “Aw, baby, you do and it’s hot. Don’t get all shy about it.”

“Whatever,” Luke murmured, turning his focus back to the tv instead of the growing smirk on your face. 

But the thought lingered in his mind even as the two of you continued to cuddle on the couch, watching whatever movie you had chosen after the All-Stars events ended. It picked at his brain, chipping away at the self-restraint he had to keep his mouth shut for the rest of the night until the two of you were getting ready for bed. 

He was lingering by the doorway, watching you get your side of the bed (because apparently that was also something that came easily to the two of you) ready before you climbed into bed. And before he could stop himself, he was already blurting out the words that were on the tip of his tongue for most of the night.

“Do you really think the praise kink thing is hot?” 

His cheeks were already blushy and pink and hot when you turned your head to look at him.

“How long have you been wanting to ask that?” You asked, something lighthearted and teasing in your voice that was oddly reassuring. You didn’t think he was a freak for asking. Not that he ever assumed you would judge him, you both were far from that point. 

“Does it change your answer?” He asked, not sounding half as confident as he wanted to. 

Your smile softened a little as you walked around the bed and towards him. You tilted your head back once you were in front of him, watching him with a look he couldn’t quite work out. 

Luke swallowed a little.

“It doesn’t change my answer,” you answered honestly. 

Luke could feel something in his chest tighten. “And what’s your answer?” 

“I think it’s hot,” you told him, saying it so casually as though the two of you were discussing the weather. “I think everyone has a praise kink to some extent but…”

Luke could feel his heart pounding in his chest. “But?” 

“But it’s different with you,” you said, your fingers lightly skimming against his stomach before curling around the hem of his shirt. “You’re so…responsive. It’s hot.” 

His body twitched, like his skin was too tight for his body. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you confirmed, smiling a little before using the grasp on his shirt to tug him closer and close the distance between you both. Not that there was much.

Luke was almost embarrassed by the noise he made the second your lips were on his, your hands fisting the fabric of his shirt as you used the leverage against him. He ducked his head down, trying to chase your lips as you continued to tease him and tempt him. He barely realised his feet were moving until the back of your knees hit the bed and you pulled back to look at him. 

“So pretty,” you murmured, close enough to hear the way his breath hitched before you moved down onto the bed, with your grasp on his shirt enough to drag him down with you. 

It was far from sexy, if Luke was being honest. An awkward maneuver of too many limbs and shuffling up the bed that should have ruined the moment, but it didn’t. Because it was you and you were laughing and smiling and snorting when Luke almost decked it on top of you after he got his foot stuck. You made it feel so normal. Like it was all just a part of the charm. 

Maybe it was. Maybe feeling safe enough to be human and imperfect was a part of the charm. 

Because despite the uncoordinated and clumsy scrambling onto the bed, you were still looking at him like you wanted to see how pink his cheeks could turn.

Luke barely put up a fight when you pulled him back down, happily following your movements as he settled between your legs and let you wind your arms around his neck so his nose was brushing against yours before you leaned in to kiss him again. 

Unlike a lot of the other makeout sessions the two of you had, there was no rush. There was no lingering adrenaline from a game he wanted to work off or some bad plays he wanted to forget. There were no teasing messages or risky phone calls that were building up to this moment. There was absolutely nothing but just the two of you lying in his bed, making out because you wanted to. 

Because you wanted to kiss him and he wanted to kiss you. Because you enjoyed the weight of him on top of you and he enjoyed the way your fingers entangled themselves in his curls. Because for reasons that were beyond his understanding, you wanted this as much as he did.

“Fuck,” he muttered against your lips, his tongue lightly skimming over the area of his bottom lip you nipped with your teeth.

You smiled up at him. “See? So responsive. It’s cute.” 

He swallowed. “Cute?”

“Cute, hot, sexy, whatever word you want to use, pretty boy,” you murmured, one hand sliding down to cup his face as your thumb skimmed over the apple of his cheek. “All I know is that I like the noises you make.” 

Luke responded by leaning back down, kissing you because he could, because he wanted to, because he liked the way your laugh vibrated against his lips before you kissed back.

But whatever control Luke thought he had on himself when he was with you quickly dwindled as you pulled him closer, letting his body fall on top of you and let your thighs squeeze his sides until he was rocking his hips against yours, until he was practically panting between kisses.

“Mmm,” you hummed, pressing one, two, three pecks against his lips before your lips traced along his cheek and down his jaw. “That’s it, baby. I can feel how much you like this. S’cute how worked up you get just making out.”

“You’re hot,” he gasped out, like it was self-explanatory. Like it justified why he could feel his dick twitching in his sweatpants, probably already making a mess that he would pretend didn’t embarrass him as much as it did.

Your smile was softer, your hand on his face feeling more intimate as you guided his eyes to meet yours. “I think,” you started, your thumb lightly tracing down his cheek and skimming his bottom lip. “You’re hot too. And that you can come like this. Make a mess f’me.” 

And fuck, he could.

It wouldn’t be the first time he did, helplessly grinding against you whilst you kissed him and praised him and made his head fucking spin before he was coming harder than he really should be able to from a simple act. He could lean down, press his lips against yours and slide his tongue against yours and feel the way you cling onto him as he comes. He could do it. 

But there was a buzzing voice in the back of his head, getting louder and louder until—

“I bought condoms.” 

He could see the initial surprise on your face as you processed the words he just blurted out, the eyes locked on his kiss-swollen lips shifting to look up and watch the way he squirmed under the realisation of his words. He watched the way you tucked your bottom lip between your teeth, eyes narrowing slightly like you were observing him, keeping on edge until he spoke.

“You bought condoms,” you repeated, trying and failing to keep the smile off your face. “Big plans for this week?” 

“I—” Luke’s face burned. “That wasn’t… didn’t mean…I was just—” 

“Luke,” you said in a softer voice, your smile faltering a little into something more sincere. “M’only teasing.” 

“Okay,” he whispered, a knot twisting in his stomach with every passing second. He swore he was moments away from just exploding out of pure embarrassment or something just as humiliating. 

“Breathe for me,” you murmured, smiling a little when he let out a shaky breath. “We don’t have to, if you don’t want to. Just because you bought them, doesn’t mean we have to do anything with them just yet.”

Luke swallowed, his whole body thrumming as he replied. “I…I want to.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he nodded, his brows furrowing slightly. “Only if you want to, too. Because consent is sexy, you know.”

You laughed a little, both hands now cupping his face so your eyes could meet his. “I do, if you want this. If you’re ready.” 

“It is,” he whispered, nodding again. “I trust you, Cherry. I want this. With you.” 

“Okay,” you whispered before kissing him again, slow and sure and content. 

It made him feel a little less like his skin was shrinking all over his body.

And you kept kissing him until his body didn’t feel so tense, until he didn’t feel like a wooden plank on top of you, until he was relaxed and making those little noises between kisses that let you know he wasn’t as nervous as before. 

You kept kissing him as you lightly nudged him back, letting him lean back on his knees until he was straddling your body, giving him enough movement to lean over and scramble through his nightstand until he found the unopened box of condoms.

He tried to tear the plastic covering over the box off, tried to peel it away but his hands were shaking more than he liked and his heart was pounding in his chest and—

“Hey, relax,” you murmured softly, sitting up and taking the box from his hands with little fight from him.

“Sorry,” he mumbled with a sheepish smile. “Nerves, I guess.”

“It’s okay,” you promised. “You know we can stop at any time, just say the word.” 

He swallowed harshly. “No, I do—”

“I know,” you smiled. “But I also want you to know that.” 

“Only if you do too,” Luke responded, looking completely serious as he said it. “If you want to stop at any moment too, you have to say something too. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do this with me because it’s my…first time or whatever.”

“I promise,” you smiled before nudging him back, until he was settled with his back against the headboard and you were on his lap. “Don’t worry about the condoms right now, okay? Just focus on me.” 

And Luke did.

Because, in complete honesty, it was very easy to ignore the box of condoms and the bubbling nerves and the growing realisation of what was about to happen. The voice in the back of his head saying ‘oh fuck, this is it’ was barely a whisper when his focus was on you. 

It was easy to get lost in the familiarity of you. He was used to this. He was used to you sitting on his lap, straddling his thighs and kissing him senseless. He was used to you dragging your shirt over your head and throwing it to the side. He was used to you tugging his sweatpants down and letting your own follow and guiding his hand between your legs whilst you whispered filthy things against his lips. 

He was used to the way you always targeted the spot just behind his ear, blowing cool air until he physically shivered. He was used to the way your eyes fluttered shut when his thumb lightly skimmed across your nipple. He was used to choking out a breathless moan whenever your thumb slid along the slit on the head of his cock. He was used to the way you tugged on his hair when you were close, letting the dull pain throb wonderfully at the base of his skull whilst you pressed your face against his shoulder. 

You were right, all those weeks ago back at the start of the season, when you said he needed to build up to this moment. You were right about the different experiences and experiments the two of you had tried and tested over the last few months. You were right when you said it was just like practicing hockey. 

It felt a bit fucking poetic and pathetic to compare his sex life to hockey right now, but he got it. 

The same nerves that bubbled up before his first NHL game were no different. Because even though he had played hockey his whole life, it still felt nerve-wracking to play in the NHL. And even though he had spent the last few months doing so much with you, it was still kind of daunting to know it was all leading up to this.

But just like his first NHL game, it just felt right. 

You felt right. 

This whole moment felt right. 

Luke knew he was not like his friends or teammates. He had spent years growing up with locker room talk, hearing about random hookups in the backseat of a car or halfhearted blowjobs in a bar bathroom. He heard about one night stands and casual flings and situationships that tended to go sour. He had heard it all and it was unsettling to imagine that was the future waiting for him. 

But it wasn’t. 

And it felt a bit comforting to know that he never had to look back on this experience and regret the person he was with or where he was or whatever stupid risk it could cause his career. All he had to think about was him and you and the way you were looking just as affected and turned on as he was right now.

“You still sure?” You whispered, soft and comforting and so fucking caring, it made his throat feel a little tight. 

“Yeah,” he nodded, smiling a little as he leaned in to kiss you again to emphasise his point. “I trust you. I want this with you.” 

You smiled, still looking so fucking genuine before you leaned over to grab the box of condoms, removing the plastic peel with an ease he was only slightly jealous of. He watched you grab a small foil packet, glancing at him every few seconds like you were waiting for him to jump back on his decision.

“I trust you,” he repeated, confident and sure. 

His hands laid on your legs as you tore open the foil packet. His hands squeezed the fat of your thighs as you rolled the condom on him, stroking him a few times until he was bucking into your touch. His hands were on your waist, supportive and guiding as you slowly sunk down onto his cock. 

“Shit,” Luke breathed out, his breath shaky and gasping. “Shit.”

“I’ve got you,” you whispered, one hand on his shoulder and the other gripping the back of his neck. “I—fuck—I’ve got you.”

The squeeze of your walls around his cock made him want to close his eyes. It made him want to lean back against the headboard, keep his eyes closed and fucking bask in the feeling of you being so warm and tight and intense around him. But the desire to watch the way his cock disappeared into you was stronger, to watch the way your eyes fluttered shut and your lips parted as you settled fully on his lap. 

It was fucking memesiring watching the way you slowly lifted your hips and sunk down again. It made him feel like his head was spinning as he watched you continued to move, to sink up and down on his cock, to fuck yourself on his cock and moan his name and look into his eyes and—

“Can I—” He cut himself off, a pathetic and whiny noise leaving his lips when you squeezed around him. “Can I please—”

“Whatever you want,” you murmured, breathless and panting as you leaned in to kiss him like you needed it.

He let himself enjoy the kiss, to enjoy the feeling of being inside you and the weight of you on his lap and your lips on his before he moved. Before he reminded his brain that he can move, that he didn’t have to feel so boneless and helpless, as he shifted until the two of you had rolled over and you were beneath him and—

“Oh fuck,” you moaned, loud and shameless as he hooked an arm under your knee, lifting your leg out of the way enough for him to thrust back in as your head feel back against the pillow. “Shit, yes, like that.” 

For a second, it was hard to remember he was even in his own body as he watched you. It was fucking mesmerising as he watched you moan and whine beneath him, as he felt your nails digging into his skin and scratching down his back as you demanded him for more, as you muttered his name between pleas and begs and whimpers. 

Luke kind of wished this moment would last forever. 

Unfortunately for him, he was utterly weak when it came to you. Because you were pretty and sweet and you felt fucking unreal around him, and you were looking at him like he fucking meant something and—

It was so much. Too much. Just fucking enough. 

“I can’t—” He gasped out, his whole body feeling like it was buzzing alive as the knot in his stomach twisted tighter and his thrusts became sloppier. “I’m not gonna last long—”

“Come for me,” you breathed out, your hands cupping his cheeks as you wound your legs around his waist. “C’mon, Luke, wanna feel you come in me.” 

And well, he stood no fucking chance lasting after you said that to him.

He could have sworn his ears were ringing when he came. It was intense and overwhelming and disorienting and, fuck, it felt so good. He could feel his muscles tensing, his body rigid and shaking as his orgasm washed over him. He could feel the wave of pleasure rushing through him, leaving every fucking nerve in his body buzzing as he let himself enjoy the way you were squeezing him around him.

He felt like he was on cloud nine when you ran your hands through his curls, your lips against his ear whispering god knows what. But your voice was low and humming and comforting and he could feel his eyes slipping close to enjoy the sound of it. 

He could feel you running your hands over his body, feel the way every inch of skin was pressed against you, feel the way your legs were tightening around him like you didn’t want him to move just yet either. 

After the rush of adrenaline and pleasure, his body felt syrupy. His movements felt slow and unhurried, his thoughts felt like they were floating away. His brain felt fuzzy and pleased and content to just lay on the bed with you, bask in the feeling a little longer before the grossness and desire to clean up took over. 

Luke was more than happy to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck, to close his eyes and let out a happy sigh and let himself relax after the really intense last few minutes the two of you had just experienced.

And if Luke was more awake, he would have noticed the way you tensed up the second he spoke. The way your eyes widened, the way your body instantly locked up, the way you went a little pale. 

If Luke was more awake, he would have been able to think twice before he spoke. 

But Luke wasn’t awake. He fell asleep after muttering the one thought that had been on his mind since New Years. 

He closed his eyes and slept like a fucking baby and woke up to an empty bed and an empty apartment and not a single sign of proof of the night before except the marks on his skin and the used condom lying on his bedroom floor. 

“I think I’m in love with you,” he had slurred into the crook of your neck, his voice barely louder than a rumble as the sleepiness really hit. 

If Luke was more awake, he would have stopped himself from completely fucking everything up. 

.

[theminecraftbee]

if you don't mind me asking, what are your favorite Techno moments/quotes?

ENTIRETY OF THE POTATO WAR. but also the sun tzu bits specifically

bonus: that story tommy tells of the time he was on a call with techno during the potato war and, from silence, techno speaks up to say "i have narrowed squidkid down to one of three colleges" before going back to potato farming. truly incredible.

honestly "i ruined skeppy's video" and/or any of the techno and skeppy ones are REALLY funny, largely because it's very "chaos god gets a taste of his own medicine"

a lot of techno's dramatic dsmp moments are very well-remembered (nov 16th speech! his speech to tommy!) but i also wanna shoutout the entire bedrock bros arc for being very... two people who do NOT know how to handle this situation but by god, they sure are trying.

i am also actually a SUPER big fan of the whole mayor of hypixel stream because it just feels really good.

minecraft mondays were very flawed but they have some excellent techno moments. a personal favorite is the minecraft monday finale where it gets hacked and they all go "fuck it we'll just play hypixel instead". and they play the stupid minigames, the like, really dumb party games. AND TECHNO IS WAY TOO GOOD AT THOSE TOO. and tapl and the others are just there like "WHY DID YOU TRAIN. THE PIG LAWNMOWER GAME" it's great.

if you've never seen his video about taking over the world in smp earth. like i know that's a really obviously well-known one but it's really good.

also shoutout to his ability to edit to make mr. beast events like, bearable, i cannot STAND the actual mr. beast videos but the technoblade povs of stuff like trying to win the fridge or the duel are actually really good.

i don't know i just really like technoblade, is my point,

[steddieas-shegoes]

if you fall, i will catch you

for @steddielovemonth day 2 using Time After Time by Cyndi Lauper

rated t | 855 words | no cw | tags: high school, prom, slow dance, flirting, open ending but assumed getting together

🪩🕺💃🪩🕺💃🪩🕺💃🪩💃🕺🪩

Prom is stupid.

Steve didn’t even want to come. He didn’t have a date and nothing is more embarrassing than showing up to prom alone. Even the nerds come as a group, dancing and laughing together.

His mom made an appointment for his suit fitting and he couldn’t really explain to her that there was no need. She still thinks he and Nancy are on track to be married when Nancy graduates high school. He doesn’t know how to tell her that he’ll probably die alone.

Okay, that’s a little dramatic. He’s probably not gonna die alone.

But he may die unhappy, and that’s worse.

Most of the music hasn’t been terrible so far, at least. Only one slow song played and no one seemed interested in dancing to it.

Steve’s a fucking wallflower at his own prom. He never saw this coming.

He figures he could probably escape within the next few songs, no one would even notice his absence. He makes a mental plan to wait until one of the parent chaperones walks back to the other side of the room.

Then he’s off.

He manages to escape to the hall behind the gym, the one that leads to the auditorium and drama class, not the main building of the school. No one should be back here. It’s the perfect escape route.

“Never thought I’d see the day when King Steve is trying to escape prom,” a voice says from the end of the hall. The music from the gym is echoing in here, but the voice is much louder. It’s familiar, too. “Miss Wheeler too busy with Byers to dance?”

It’s Munson. Steve sighs.

“Why are you even here?”

“It’s my senior prom, too! Or should those of us not graduating not be allowed?” Eddie walks closer and Steve sees that he’s actually dressed up. It’s not a designer suit like he’s been forced into, but it’s nice. Eddie looks…nice.

“Wait,” Steve registers what he actually said. “Not graduating?”

“Yep. Apparently quadratic formulas are crucial to my development and I cannot enter society until I understand them.” Eddie kicks his foot across the tile, leaving a scuff mark from shoes that have probably been waxed beyond necessity. “And I guess dissecting a frog and turning in homework may have helped.”

“But aren’t you pretty smart?” Steve thought he was one of those dungeon dweebs like Dustin. Dustin’s the smartest person he knows, without a doubt, kid or not. He thought all the nerds who play that game were like that.

“Sure, I’m smart enough,” Eddie scoffs. “But I don’t play by their rules. I forget to do homework. I argue.”

“But if you know the stuff, they can’t fail you.”

“Ah, but they can. I don’t have the Harrington name to convince them to change a D to a C. It’s all good. Everyone expected it.”

Steve’s brows furrow, forehead creasing as he thinks about how many things people expected of him that won’t happen.

“Just because people expect it doesn’t mean you have to give it to them,” he says.

Eddie’s eyes widen and he seems shocked by Steve’s words. But the shock wears off quickly. Steve wonders if he imagined it.

“Right you are! Very wise words from the king,” Eddie bows dramatically.

Steve laughs.

Eddie glances up, tense until he realizes Steve’s not laughing at him, just at the entertainment. He stands straight and holds out his hand.

“I do believe such wise words should be repaid with a dance,” Eddie puts on a fake British accent, nose pointed to the sky, smirk playing on his lips.

Steve thinks this must be what it’s like to be charmed by someone.

“A dance?” Steve asks. “Here? With me?”

“It would be my honor,” Eddie loses the accent and turns his head back down so he’s looking right at Steve’s eyes. “Miss Lauper wrote this song just for us, after all.”

Steve’s confusion grows until he hears the song coming from the gym. He can only imagine how awkward it must be in the gym while some couples slow dance with chaperones watching their every breath. He reaches out and takes Eddie’s hand.

“The honor is mine, sir Munson,” Steve tries for an accent like Eddie had previously, but it falls flat.

Eddie pulls him close, but hesitates before he puts an arm around his waist. Steve feels breathless all of a sudden, like they’ve rocketed into space and he forgot one of those astronaut suits. He nods, giving permission for Eddie to take the lead.

When Eddie pulls him closer, they’re almost flush against each other.

Steve’s heart is racing.

“I didn’t know you were weird,” Eddie admits quietly. It sounds a lot like admiration. He’s swaying them back and forth gently, and Steve finds it’s easy to lose track of everything but the way Eddie’s hands rest on his body. “It’s nice to see you, Steve.”

It’s a lot more than what it sounds like.

As Cyndi Lauper plays, Steve wonders if this is how his prom was always meant to be spent: in Eddie Munson’s arms, falling.

[strangeaxel]

you appear to draw isaac and gerard as being very physically close. cuddly even (:3c), and i want to learn more about this specific aspect because its so cute.. were they always like that? did they have to build up a lot of trust in each other first? how do they see and engage with touch? are/were they ever touch starved?

Drawing a made for the ask lalalala

First of all, thanks for the question! <3

In Gerard's case he used to touch Isaac's hands for example or shoulders to basically indicate he was safe with him and also try to communicate he wanted something more than a friendship with him when they were starting to know each other. I feel like even tho Gerard doesn't consider he's romantic himself in a traditional way i feel he actually is-- (Like when Susana Gimenez asked Charly Garcia if he was romantic and he said yes and Susana asked him "really? You like a dinner, with roses and candles??" And he said "i said im romantic, not stupid" lmao) He calls bitch pet names and cute things even tho she's always abusive towards him, he still tries, so imagine how much freedom could he have with someone like Isaac, a guy that has an anxious attachedment style. I feel he is the way he is in the game as a way of self defense, a way for him to cope with all the shit he has to go through all the time xD so he can't show much emotion or tries to hide it with humor, but in Isaac's world, this paradise isn't so bad, it's more,,, realistic. He doesn't have the constant need to hide his needs in a relationship like he used to (Well, only in private since ... its the 90s-2000s, duh). Gerard started to be more expressive with his physical touch towards Isaac as went time on, cuz of isaac's delusions of people being infected or sinful (this last one mostly because of his alters, for example, Demon) and also so Isaac could have time to process his own feelings, being someone who tries/tried to be a devoted christian this relationship felt wrong in all senses, it took him some time to accept he indeed liked him. Isaac isn't someone who would be nagging you on the streets is he saw you in, for example, a gay relationship, he's ignorant mostly, he doesn't have evil intentions (he also uses this ignorant/innocent view as a way to cope with his own emotions towards man).

While in Isaac's case, once he accepted it/half accepted it started to do your typical couple stuff, only in private, he gets mad when Gerard holds his hand on public and even tho this bothers Gerard a little bit he just can't complain, he understands but also well... his wife was much worst than this. Isaac feels safe cuddling with him, he feels like nothing wrong can happend when he's around (even tho Gerard's bad luck follows him everywhere lol), sometimes when he's having strong episodes because of his delusion it feels like he and him are the only non infected. Isaac has BPD so touch and words mean a lot to him even tho he isn't the best showing his love in a conventional way + he's non verbal for most of the time, it's like they both have two different types of autism lol

I think that's all i have to say about this at least for now, i'm still working on the ship but these types of questions really help me to understand and think of ways to improve it, thanks a lot for the question once again, i'm glad people are interested in knowing about my au/ship.

The song i used as lyrics for the drawing (i love this Tribute so much, please go check it out):

[suzukiblu]

First 1k of the 5k I promised y'all as a thank-you for helping me out with that car insurance bill behind the cut; “YJ packs up and gets pupped”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

He’d cry a lot harder, probably, but–no, he wouldn’t mind. Like . . . literally zero percent would he mind . . . mind anyone doing that for him. Even if Red Tornado only smells like metal and wires and machinery and, like, a little bit of clumsy scenting from Traya and maybe an even littler, subtle bit of it from, like–Kathy . . . 

Kon feels like an asshole for thinking it, but a dude who is a literal machine and doesn’t even have a designation or pheromones having, like–having even estranged packmates when he doesn’t even . . . when he’s never actually . . . 

Even in Hawaii, he didn’t have a pack. Like–Rex and Roxy had their family pack, and Tana had her family pack, and Dubbilex is a null and totally uninterested in packing up with anybody, which sometimes some shitty part of Kon’s wondered if that’s, like–if that’s why Cadmus picked Dubbilex to be his stupid fake “chaperone” or . . . whatever. Because Dubbilex–Dubbilex wouldn’t ever get too–too– 

Kon’s pretty fucking positive that Dubbilex doesn’t really think of him the way he’s sometimes wished the guy would either. And Roxy–Roxy’s the closest thing he’s ever had to a sibling unless he counts Match, who literally thinks he’s just a shitty prototype and nothing else, but she wasn’t–she wasn’t his pack sibling or anything like that. And even if she had been, he doesn’t even know where she is now; hasn’t even seen her in months. More months than he even actually remembers it being, since he spent a real significant portion of that time, like–literally out of his mind on gross fucked-up amnesia drugs that made him literally feral, so . . . 

And it’s not like it’s not, like–public, that he’s back and currently working for Cadmus and rolling with Young Justice and all that. If Roxy or Tana or anybody wanted to find him . . . they could find him, if they wanted to. 

But they haven’t. 

He misses Hawaii so bad right now. Like . . . all the time, really. But especially right now. 

“Then I will do it,” Red Tornado says. It sounds the same exact way he just said it, like he’s just replaying a recording or something. Like he saved a copy of it the first time, because he was already planning to say it again. 

Kon is definitely gonna be mortified about this later, he thinks as he scrubs the sleeve of his jacket across his wet eyes. 

“Okay,” he manages. “Uh–okay. Uh. Thanks.” 

He–he could use more stuff to nest with, definitely, and if Red Tornado brings it he won’t have to leave his nest for it, and like . . . the food and drinks or whatever wouldn’t hurt either, obviously. He didn’t think to get anything like that ready while he was distracted looking for stuff with everybody’s scents to nest with and when the Super-Cycle offered him a nesting pit to just–when the Super-Cycle made him a nesting pit in itself to use–well, like. Then he hadn’t really cared, after that. Like . . . that had not been a thing he was worried about, after that. So . . . so if Red Tornado doesn’t mind getting him some of that stuff before he goes . . . wherever he goes to, like, hang out when he’s on his own, well . . . like, that’d be . . . that’d be . . . 

Nice, Kon admits to himself, though that’s embarrassing to think even when he’s already all overemotional and weird anyway. 

But–but it would be. Nobody’s . . . nobody’s gonna come “attend” him, or even just . . . just be here with him, so . . . so it’d be nice, if Red Tornado would . . . would get him a couple things, and he could . . . could pretend like . . . like somebody–like he’d had somebody who– 

Red Tornado he guesses does count as somebody who’d, like, “attend” him a little, but like . . . not like a packmate would. Like . . . in a pack, somebody does . . . “attend” people who’re presenting in it. Somebody–stays, at least. 

Kon guesses the Super-Cycle’s technically volunteered to do that, so like . . . so that’s already better than he thought he was gonna get. And he did find everybody’s scents–or at least, almos everybody’s scents and Robin’s blockers–so if Red Tornado gets him more stuff to nest with too . . . 

That’s–definitely better than he thought he was gonna get, yeah. 

“Is there anyone I will need to make sure the security measure will allow entry to the base?” Red Tornado asks, and Kon–startles, a little. 

“Uh–what?” he asks stupidly, not understanding what he means. What’s . . . ? 

Red Tornado tilts his head, very slightly. 

“To attend to you,” he says. “Did you invite anyone without prior security clearance, or are they a member of the team?” 

“I–they’ve got packs,” Kon says reflexively, too confused to bite it back. But . . . “Like . . . they’ve all got–packs. And, like–school and shit, anyway. I wouldn’t . . . I wouldn’t bug ‘em with this.” 

He doesn’t even know if . . . like, why even would they come, if he actually . . . 

Red Tornado’s expression doesn’t change, obviously. Like, his expression is literally physically incapable of changing. He doesn’t even adjust the tilt of his head or shift his center of balance or–anything at all, really. Doesn’t even make that electric humming fridge-compressor sound again. 

Kon suddenly feels like something about him just changed, though. 

“I see,” Red Tornado says. “Who will I need to provide security clearance for, then?” 

“Um,” Kon says, and tries not to cringe. “You–don’t. It’s–fine. Like, I don’t–it’s fine. I didn’t, like . . . call anybody, or anything. I’m just gonna, you know–crash for a day or two, and then like, I’ll put everything away and run the scent-scrubbers and everything. That’s, like–that’s all. I don’t need, like . . . ‘attended’, or whatever. Like–I’m not gonna bother anybody with that.” 

Red Tornado’s just looking at him with the exact same expression, but it still feels like something’s changed.

[iamlostsomewhereinthegarden]

Took me a while because I literally did everyone lol, so here we have:

Obey me characters and their fashion styles Pt. 2

Holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shi- This is part 2 as there is the stupid 3 gifs/images per post limit

Pt 1.

Solomon

Only has one proper fit in his closet that he put together everything else was bought and put together for him by Asmo

Has little interest in fashion and with the years blurring by in his human mind has lost track of what is actually fashionable so can't really dress properly outside of suit and tie events since there isn't much variations in that

Always in something that covers his body because he dislikes showing off his pact marks and whatever scars he has on his body

Despite this all his clothes are breathable and doesn't overheat him, he overheats often very easily and just uses magic to seem unbothered but he wears breathable clothing to avoid one more chore

Let him dress you and you'll come out looking like a damned hot mess never let him actually dress you, let him put in opinions and give out ideas but never let him actually dress you!

Diavolo

On par with Lucifer with the fact that he can only dress formally properly as he's been having to do it forever

His difference is that casual clothing (on the rare occasions that is) is a mix of Lucifer's casual and Solomon's fashion sense because he doesn't get to dress casual often and refuses to let Barbatos find something suitable for him to wear

Really likes themed clothing though and will try and force Lucifer or even push Barbatos to wear matching clothing with him Mephibfrebchd wishes he could be like that with Diavolo

Compared to Solomon though Diavolo is more on the cringe leaning side and will gladly look like a pair of dads with Lucifer and wear Hawaiian shirts with khakis

Even with his bad fashion sense it's hard to make fun of him or even tell him it sucks because what do you mean you're gonna bully someone who rarely ever gets the freedom to be chill and choose his own stuff and rarely gets a chance to wear these crappy casual clothing? WHAT DO YOU MEAN??????

Let him dress you and you'll come out wearing some matching cringe shit with him, yes it's gonna be embarrassing but on the bright side not only did the King of Hell dress you but you're matching with him! Anyone who makes fun of you is also making fun of the king so they better get ready to grovel for forgiveness

Barbatos

The king of formal wear

Despite this he does know how to dress casual and for any event and how to not look weird either

He has to as he dresses Diavolo and has been taking care of him from since forever

He's just simply one hell of a butler

His no specific style outside of not really being fond of clothing that may show his body

Let him dress you and you'll come out looking in the most ideal way of your style, he's a butler that caters to other's needs so he knows how to dress people to their tastes!

Though if you let him dress you how'd he like you to look you'll come out looking like a royal or a noble as  that is what you are to him

Simeon

(Btw why does he dress like a slut)

Has a very casual sense of style tbh, not too formal but not too cozy and lazy, the perfect middle

Though I'd have to say most of his clothes has no sleeves, he has a weird problem with sleeves on his clothing though he will wear them to be appropriate.

Enjoys the fact that heaven gives them stuff to wear cause he actually dislikes finding outfits

Despite this the king of casual comfy clothing like the first fit you try you love immediately 

Let him dress you and you'll come out in an outfit that you'll often wear cause it's so good

Luke

I feel like dressing with him would be like dress up time with a child

Doesn't know much about fashion since that is not something to be focused on in Heaven and I'm pretty sure they restricted for what they can wear

Has the innate ability to pick out very cute looking clothing though it may not always be comfortable sadly

Dresses in the cute shota fashion, think like Mitsukuni Haninozuka from Ouran Host Club

Is fine dressing in any color but likes dressing in pastel colors the most outside of any shade of blue and yellow

Let him dress you and you'll come out looking adorable! like so cute, very cute and probably matching with him.

Raphael

(Why is he dressed even sluttier????? WHY IS ASMO MORE DRESSED THAN BOTH OF THE ADULT ANGELS 90 OF THE TIME??? IS HEAVEN A STRIP CLUB????????)

If we think Solomon was bad Raphael is 10x worse because at least Solomon has an idea of what he thinks is cool and what is fashionable even if it sucks Raphael has no idea or care

All outfits chosen by himself is weird and uncoordinated or similar to his regular fit so almost everything for the world to see

Constantly manages to find the most comfortable clothes you can possibly find also, so though he looks weird he's comfy

Actually prefers to have as much skin out as possible as it makes it easier for him to move around and fight if needed

Hates clothing that fully covers his skin and it makes him feel stifled, prefers stuff that isn't close to his skin (he just like me fr)

Let him dress you and you'll come out looking veryyyyyy funky but very mobile and somehow very comfortable, demons stare at you and tell you that "you have a unique sense of fashion" and you have to let them know that you let the "Angel with the Spear dressed you today" and suddenly they understand and are sorry for you

Thirteen

Thirteen is an amazing fashionista and has an amazing sense of style

I'm sure you can tell by her personalized reaper uniform and R.A.D. uniform but she loves alt styles 

All her clothing is different and ranges from comfortable to non comfortable but most are comfortable because it's supposed to be something she likes

Also doesn't care much for how much of her body is exposed but prefers to always carry some sort of sweater she likes her arms covered but doesn't always care for sleeves or long gloves (she's just like me fr)

Go to a thrift shop with her and she'll find the coolest and comfiest stuff to wear

Let her dress you and you'll come out looking so fucking cool, you'll look like those people on magazines or that cool alt person you see that you add to your pinterest board

Mephihdewuhcds Mephistopheles

On the same level of dressing as Lucifer and Diavolo (simp) but when asked to dress down dresses like a prep kid

The brands on this man radiates so much money that Mammon's mouth waters and you look like a walking cash bag to him

Most of his clothing is very uncomfortable but he's just gotten used to it (I personally believe he comes from a shitty noble family hence why he's so stuck up) so comfy clothing is foreign and weird to him

Does not know how to dress casual (even in rich branded clothing) as the average person may see it, and is very uncomfortable in casual clothing because of his upbringing

Let him dress you and you'll come out looking similar to how Satan would dress you, a prep student that aces all their exams! (though the clothes may be a bit uncomfortable)

Tags:@kisakis-boyfriend

[theprettynosferatu]

State of The Blog, February 2025, or As I Type This

CW: Politics, general downer.

I promised myself I wouldn't write about this. Guess this post makes me a liar, aside from a humble kink-maker. I also promised myself I wouldn't complain, and that I won't do. Things are fine. Texts are being written. The smut is flowing, even if slowly- or less rapidly than either of us would like, dear reader.

Now... shit sure is fucked, huh? Not the most eloquent way of putting it, I know. But who has time for rhetoric these days? And I'm not even American! But I happen to know that a large portion of my little corner o'smut here hails from the USA. I have lived there myself. I have, perhaps, something of a romantic streak when it comes to what America could be. Sadly, it's not what it could be that we have to deal with.

Things are moving quickly. This is not by accident.

As I type this, the richest man in the world has gathered an unfathomable trove of data from the US government. Illegally, of course, but it appears such things no longer matter.

As I type this, information on gender and trans issues is being erased from government websites.

As I type this, self-ID is no longer a thing for my non-binary and transgender American friends, acquaintances and readers.

As I type this, ICE is raiding workplaces, schools, churches.

As I type this, someone has lost funding for life-changing research.

As I type this. the US is getting into a trade war on three fronts. All casualties in this war will be, as is always the case, the working people. On all sides.

The casualties of all these things will not be heralded. They will not the announced or published. They will be silent, in the form of people rationing medicine they need to live, getting sick from the cold and not being able to afford a doctor, perhaps choosing to not go on anymore in a world that seems to scream in their face that they don't matter, they are not wanted, they are Other.

You are shocked and traumatized because that's the point. To shock you into paralysis, so you won't have the bandwidth or time or energy to react- your reaction is what they fear.

I am nothing important. I make stuff to get people off. What right to I have to say anything to anyone who is really suffering? What the fuck can I do? Provide some escapism? Perhaps. It is useful, insofar as burning out on doomer shit helps absolutely no one. I'm nowhere near a front line, so to speak. Perhaps I'm being delusional thinking I am contributing something worth fuck all to people, but hey, I can do delusion. Or hope. It's hard to tell them apart sometimes.

I can't tell you to fight. I can't start preaching about the importance of community. I can't tell you what to do. It's not my place, and it's not my expertise. I'm not here to play armchair resistance, and neither are you. You are here for kink, and so kink I shall give you.

But I couldn't do the State of the Blog and let this go unremarked. As futile as it may be, as stupid as it sounds (and I am aware of the ass I'm making out of myself here), I just wanted you all to know you ARE wanted, you CAN handle this. Shit is bleak. But it won't be bleak forever, because YOU won't let it. The dawn is in your hands. And when you need a break and want to read smut, I'll be here.

Oh, and before I go, just in case anyone isn't clear:

Fuck off fascists.

Fuck off transphobes.

Fuck off xenophobes.

Fuck off racists.

Fuck off real sexists.

Life is not on your side, you absolute dogfuckers. It never has been, and it never will be.

[ghouljams]

Hey Ghoul, hope your doing well. I'm sending this in hope of some advice. You can totally ignore this if you're uncomfortable. I've gotten myself into a certain situation and I can't stop myself anymore. A few years ago I started exchanging flirty texts with this coworker/friend. We no longer work together but are still in touch, every few months we would grab dinner together (with another friend so we're never alone). The thing is he's married, and recently had his first kid. Our less than friendly interactions started when we were still working together, during his first year marriage they were having issues and he confided in me, and I was having alot of family issues and I leaned on him, and we became close. We never did anything physical, it was more like dirty jokes and occasional flirty comments back then.

Over the last few years it's escalated, I recognize he would text me whenever he was horny and always lead the conversation to suggestive texts. I never started it, but I never stop or discouraged it either.

The thing is (and it's no excuse) I'm in my 30s and I've never been in a relationship, never been the girl guys choose or wanted and am extremely lonely. I like the attention he gives me and I can't stop myself from replying or engaging with him. I want to stop, I don't want to be the other woman. I know he'll probably never leave his wife, certainly not for me.

This is probably the only male attention I've ever gotten in my life, and I know male validation isn't something I should strive for but having never received any it feels nice. It doesn't feel nice being a dirt secret.

I don't know. Thanks for reading if you got this far...I just don't know how to stop myself

Wow. This is a lot friend. I want to start by saying I think for your friend's wife's sake I think you should block him.

While you're not without blame in this situation, this man also sounds like absolute trash for letting this go on this long without stopping. He has a wife and child, and any good person would not be cheating on their partner like this. That said, you should show some compassion for not just the wife but yourself and get this man out of your life asap.

This validation and attention feels good in the moment because it's fleeting and you don't have to worry about any of the hard relationship stuff, you get the pay off of "you're hot" without any of the emotional stuff of a relationship, and as good as it feels in the short term it's not going to help you in the long run. Which you already know because you've said it doesn't feel nice being a dirty secret.

Now. It is a terrifically false statement that you have "never been the girl guys choose or want." It is an unkindness to yourself and a categorically untrue thing to say. You don't know how many people have seen you and wanted you or known you and never said anything about wanting you. And to wallow in self-pity and say "but I do, and that number is zero" is just stupid. It's stupid and it's unkind to the people that pined for you, it's also just-

like there's a measure of self-centeredness to self-loathing that I think makes people think they know other people and how they should think better than they actually do. You don't know how many people or who has loved you for 30 years, and unfortunately you probably never will, but to assume that number is zero is just statistically improbable.

I've been where you are, when you've never gotten what you think every other woman does it's intoxicating to get that male attention. You feel almost honored that you finally got cat called, that some guy is giving you attention through flirty texts, that people are liking your bikini photos, or your male friend from college is rekindling your friendship. Craving this sort of validation isn't great, but it's understandable. What I think is more important to realize is that these men don't respect you, or care for you, and are using you as a means to an end.

You should block him because you deserve better than being a dirty secret, and you should start trying to love yourself more. Just because you're not your type doesn't mean you're no one's type, and just because you've never dated doesn't mean no one has wanted to date you. Most people cannot identify when someone is flirting with them, but that doesn't mean people weren't trying.

Give yourself some credit, and this guy's wife some peace of mind.

[chaifootsteps]

i agree with the statement of, "we shouldn't judge creative leads who are later revealed to be bad people based on their work because its unproductive and there usually is no secret messages that reveal they were terrible the whole time and everyone was too stupid to see it except for the Smartest Bestest critical analysis enjoyers who don't trust any piece of media ever if it has even slightly problematic elements, regardless of the execution or the fact that fiction is a playground meant to explore interesting and darker topics in any way you want,"

but i feel guilty becaus i also genuinely believe there's exceptions for this rule. the guy who made the room is the first one that comes to mind, but only because his depiction of women has been compared to stella in helluva boss, which leads me to the other exception in my eyes; vivziepop.

am i crazy for thinking that though? i just feel like part of why i can never take any charitable analyzing of either series seriously is because they're unaware of what kind of person she is and even if they can still come to a conclusion of, "viv has a problem writing women, abuse, coherent plotlines, foreshadowing and rape," they never seem to wonder WHY that is. it makes me feel like an insane conspiracy theorist when the way i sincerely feel is that viv just writes whatever she wants with no care of how the trials of time will age with it and no care besides indulgence and projecting whatever message she needs viewers to think about her characters so she can sell the most merch of them, thus leading to demons in hell never being allowed to be bad people or being the worst people ever thatre also loved by the writers to a ridiculous degree, without a speck of nuance or maturity in the narrative unless you squint hard with your rose tinted headcanon glasses and copium huffings that inspires statements of, "well, she'll probably address these things and make them better in the next season!"

do you get what i mean? or am i going too far down this rabbit hole? i just want people to open their eyes to this stuff when they notice these patterns, but i feel like it'll never happen until these shows end and NDAs expire so people behind the scenes making her half baked vision a reality with their actual talent go, "yeah she was bullshitting everything on the spot and just wanted to pretend she had broadway besties so that's why these shows suck lol" but i dunno if that'll even happen either. (and im not just talking jane, i mean people like sam and skye and brandon or even the expensive VAs themselves, although the last ones last likely since they gain nothing and arguably lose more by speaking out since they have successful actually professional careers they've worked their asses off for,)

Oh no, shitty people seeding their foulness throughout their works is definitely a thing. It's just when people go retroactively and say "It's obvious they were bad all along because they wrote X, Y, and Z." Because it's perfectly possible to write X, Y, and Z and be lovely in real life.

In Viv's case, she's not a bad person because she writes certain things...she's just a bad person in general and it comes through in the way she writes.

[epickiya722]

As a bkdk artist who's been in the fandom since 2018, one thing that always annoyed me about antis is when I (and other bkdks) posted bkdk art back then, I'd see ATLEAST one comment saying "your artsyle is cute, but bakudeku is a terrible ship" or "I don't like bkdk but your art is so good. Maybe you could try drawing krbk next?" Or even "how could you even like this ship. Hori himself said that izch is canon."

The "your art is good but this ship sucks, draw something else" comments sounded like backhanded compliments. Like I'm passionate about the ship so I'll draw what I want? Thank you very much?!

It was so cool to hate on bkdk back then, they really acted like it was some illegal ship. I also had people say stuff like I didn't understand how bullied people feel or abuse victims like seriously what 😑

I feel your annoyance to the point. My sentiments exactly.

Going to sound mean when I say this, but antis have gotten so infuriating that I honestly stopped caring. Like anything they do just to hate on the ship is ridiculously stupid.

I refuse to believe they do all of that because "Oh, I mean no harm, I just want to express how I feel". No, they have been doing it for far too long and they do it on purpose.

They mask wanting to bother shippers but "sharing their opinions".

That's not how they really feel, that's not their opinion, so they can cut the fuckery. They just want to be an asshole.

Those same people who constantly bash on BakuDeku barely bat a lash at other ships that are worse if they gonna throw the "Bakugou is a bully card".

You're right and you should say it. When they say "art style is cute but..." it's a backhanded compliment.

Honestly, I wouldn't even call it a compliment because a compliment is meant to be genuine. If antis are being genuine about an art style being cool to them, they wouldn't follow up with some insult.

Now antis want to pull the "It makes no sense to ship them" card. Who cares about it making sense? You know what doesn't make sense to me?

If antis, those that ship Izuku and Ochako, want to scream about them being "canon" (I say more implied than canon honestly) then why talk about BakuDeku at all? Do you secretly ship BakuDeku and just want to deny it, resist it like "oh, no I mustn't! I shall not"?

Do you have just want to follow the crowd of haters? "I want to hate, too, yay!"

Do you just have a thing for "following rules" and try to apply it to anything? Because then why only single out BakuDeku? Why not other ships?

I don't know about them, but when I hate a ship I don't talk about it.

Antis be screaming "I see BakuDeku everywhere I can't escape it", but I had a totally different experience because when I first got into MHA and as the anime and manga went on, I didn't see BakuDeku content like that because I wasn't exposing myself to it. When I did cross the ship, my reaction wasn't to harass the shipper. Just shrugged and moved on.

So antis have no excuse at all for their shit actions. If you hate the ship, hate it.

Is like they want a cookie or something... "I'm a BakuDeku hater, I want a sticker!" That's what they look like to me.

Also, Anon, I thank you for being a part of the community. For anybody who reblogs your art with comments like that I'm a proud hater of them since they want to be proud haters.

[gimmebackmyskeeball]

toxic rafe w his ‘ihatemybf’ pogue gf

Looking at you two, your couple made sense. You looked good together with Rafe, you complimented each other…but, behind closed doors, it was the worst relationship you’ve ever been in. And the bad part was, you were fucking addicted to Rafe.

Wanna guess the even worse part? He was addicted to you. And we all know Rafe doesn’t do well with addictions.

Your relationship sucked and that was sugarcoating it. Rafe sometimes came to points where he forgot you were his girlfriend…and it wasn’t because of the coke. He just randomly forgot who you were and that you existed on a random Thursday, only remembering he had a girlfriend when he saw you or when you called.

And if someone sat you down to take a lie detector test, you’d fail the moment they ask you about love.

It was possessiveness, not love. The only reason you two had PDA was to show off. But possessiveness ran deep in both of your bloods.

Rafe was driving you the two of you to Tanneyhill —he decided you should spend the night over because your mom’s friends wanted to spend the night over and he didn’t wanted other people to see you while you slept, fucked up mindset, classic Rafe— you were buckled up, arms crossed over your chest, looking out the window, ignoring his phone that buzzed.

For the sixth time in the last ten minutes.

With a huff, you tried to keep your composure…before it buzzed again.

“Look- who keeps texting you?” you finally spoke up, brows furrowed, finally looking at Rafe for the first time since you got in his Range.

Dating a kook wasn’t exactly your preference either. Sure, it was nice, he treated you with a lot of stuff —to once again, show off to people— but it was still nice. Though, getting cheated on by one? Fucking crazy. And you weren’t having it.

Rafe stayed silent for a moment, his eyes focused on the road. He knew exactly who was texting him, and he knew exactly why it was buzzing. He had a missed call and 20 texts…and he knew where it was going.*

“It’s nobody.” he lied through his teeth, voice cold and blunt. A lie. A big fat lie, that he knew wouldn’t be believed.

“Nobody?” you raised a brow, repeating his lame ass excuse.*

“Nobody.”

He echoed, repeating his excuse. Rafe had his jaw clenched, knowing damn well you knew who was texting him. It was just an endless game of cat and mouse at that point…you knew who it was and he couldn’t lie about it any longer.

*Another buzz went off. He kept his eyes focused on the road. He didn’t think you were that dumb to believe the bullshit he was spewing.*

“How is ‘nobody’ making your phone buzz, dipfuck?”

You retorted, brows furrowed, tongue poking the inside of your cheek. Rafe was getting on your last nerve and there was only a certain amount of bullshit you could take before you took it all out on him.

He clenched his jaw even more, a low, frustrated grumble leaving his lips. Rafe hated being challenged, and for some reason he was getting more and more annoyed by the minute. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down…but it was useless. The phone kept buzzing, and with every buzz he grew angrier and angrier.

“Stop getting your panties in a bunch, it’s nothing.”

He knew he didn’t sound convincing at all, but he was trying his best.

“Yeah, it’s the only bunch my panties are getting in…at the moment.” you shot him a look, still fuming at the audacity of his lies.

He stayed silent, not saying anything to your comment. Deep down, he knew you would say something like that…and it annoyed him to the core.

Another buzz. Another. And another. The damn buzzing wouldn’t stop, and you knew exactly who was calling and texting.

There was a long moment of complete silence, his knuckles turning white as he held the steering wheel tightly, the veins popping in his arms from the pressure.

“Acknowledge me, Rafe.” you spoke, not liking the stupid silent treatment thing while he dramatized the entire thing.

He let out a deep, annoyed sigh. Rafe hated being told what to do. Who the hell was he? A damn toddler? But he needed to acknowledge you. He didn’t exactly want to start another fight.

“What?” He snapped, finally speaking up. His voice was cold, sharp and snappy…he clearly wasn’t liking this entire conversation.

“Acknowledge me and the damn buzzes before I toss the thing out the window.”

He gripped the steering wheel, letting out a sigh. His phone kept buzzing, the loud, obnoxious buzz filling the car, making him grow more and more frustrated. His voice was getting sharper, harsher every second that went on.

“It’s my damn ex.” He eventually managed to bite out through clenched jaws, body tense, still focusing on the road. His knuckles were still turning white from the death grip he had on the damn wheel.

“Why the fuck isn’t your ex blocked?” you spoke, brows furrowing, face scrunched up. The idea was crazy to you.

“I don’t know!”

He snapped, jaw clenched. This entire goddamn conversation was making him more and more frustrated. Rafe was seconds away from snapping. He knew it was stupid to not block his goddamn ex but he didn’t think you would be this pissed about it. He didn’t take you as the type who’d get all possessive over his phone, but apparently he had been wrong.

“That’s so pathetic…” you mumbled, turning to look back at down at your own phone with a scoff.

His jaw went slack at your words. He knew the whole thing was pathetic. He was being pathetic. But he didn’t care, not anymore.

His phone buzzed. Another goddamn text and missed call. He glanced at you for a second, before turning his eyes back to the road with a sigh.

Sure, you two sucked…and sometimes literally. But Rafe knew damn well after all the name-calling, all the fights, both of you lacked the self respect to walk away from each other.

kinda reflected now putting down my phone, taking a breath, shooting the invisible camera a glare, running a lap in my room and hitting the dougie brb

[what-have-i-unleashed]

counting stars

oops forgot about this for some reasons.... hey pspspsps @qin-qin16 come get your food i promise this has no allergies at all :3

“how do you like the stars?” killer asks color as they both lie in the grass, staring up at the night sky. killer has his arms folded behind his head, a contemplating noise in his throat before he continues.

“i know you’ve got some poetic stuff to say about it, hippie boy. something about hope, love, destiny, or whatever.” he plucks and rolls a blade of grass between his fingers, then flicks it away. “me? i hate them so much. i don’t think i’ve ever told you, huh?”

silence. killer takes it as a cue to keep talking.

“they all look so bright and near each other in the sky. but the reality is, they’re just there all alone in the vast universe. distant. cold. burning their last embers of life on their lonesome. or worse, existing in vain while a black hole slowly consumes them. nothing pretty, really.”

color still doesn’t speak, leaving killer to simmer in the cold night air. normally, this would be the part where they argue. color would insist that there is beauty in the world, that there is meaning if you just look hard enough. and then it would devolve into some self-righteous rant about the goodness in people, about how killer is never beyond saving. all misguided belief that killer has tried to beat him out of again and again to no avail.

it is kind of cute actually, how much color actually believes in it.

killer will never admit it though. because that would be a weakness, and weakness is a liability, something to be gutted out of in order to survive. in this world, it’s kill or be killed. and yet, some people don’t seem to get the memo – color being one of them. always reaching out to killer, always trying to drag him towards an ideal life that doesn’t exist. killer should feel annoyed, but it actually feels kind of nice, knowing there is someone who cares for him this much to put up with his flaws. to be willing to reforge him back into a shape they desire. even if it’s futile. even if it’s stupid.

to be loved is to be changed, after all.

and maybe, he’s just started to be primed for change right now. a steel knife thrown into a furnace ready to be reshaped.

“you know…” killer hums. “we’re enemies, so i never tell you this. i like having you around, i think. you make me feel real.” his hand searches for color’s. it’s as cold as his, but it makes him feel warm inside. “when we try to kill each other, i never feel more alive. i have someone who cares enough to look at me, at my ugliness. so… thank you.”

the breeze stills.

“say something, damnit.”

killer turns his head.

color lies there, in the grass, his face slack, his body unmoving, specks of dust flowing around him. no twitch. no soul beat. nothing. just stillness. silence.

the eternal smile on killer’s face doesn’t fade, but it turns sharper, more rigid. he waits, expecting color to stir, to light up his eyes and confirm this is not just a dream. but color doesn’t. color never will.

the wind whispers through the soft grass, brushing against killer’s cheeks like a caress of something long gone.

“oh.”

his voice comes out flat. emotionless.

he should feel something. he should feel many things. grief, regret – anything really. but there is just... emptiness. a hole in his chest where something should be. and yet, nothing comes out.

is he broken?

he looks back up at the stars. they shine just as brightly as before, as if mocking him. as if taunting him with their brilliance, with the fact that the light of his life has been snuffed out.

one more reason to hate stars, really.

"guess you finally gave up on me after all."

[nameless-jamie]

TARTT'S CORNER - Jamie Tartt x Y/N

Masterlist - Next Chapter

Chapter 10: Jealousy, Jealousy

TW: swearing, jealousy

A/N: sorry I hate Y/N in this game chapter, but it's important cause she needs an attitude adjustment.

The late afternoon sun bore down on the training grounds of AFC Richmond, casting long shadows over the neatly trimmed grass. Normally, practice was a mix of sharp drills and easy banter, but today, an unmistakable tension crackled in the air—specifically around Jamie Tartt. His movements were sluggish, his passes off, and when he attempted a shot on goal, the ball sailed embarrassingly wide.

"Fucking hell, Tartt!" Roy Kent’s voice cut through the air, laced with irritation. "Are you playin’ or tryin’ to teach the ball how to fuck off in the wrong direction?"

Jamie exhaled sharply, hands on his hips, sweat dripping from his brow. "M’fine," he muttered, rolling his shoulders as if that would shake off whatever had sunk its teeth into him.

Roy wasn’t convinced. Not even a little. He narrowed his eyes and, after practice wrapped up, pulled Jamie aside into the boot room.

"Ew, what are we doin' in here Roy. You tryin' to kill me by suffocation?"

Roy rolled his eyes at this dumb twat, former-prick he called his "friend".

"What the fuck is wrong with you? You've been playing like a little bitch."

Jamie groaned, running a hand through his damp hair. "Nothin’—just a shit day, okay?"

"Bullshit," Roy shot back immediately. "Your game’s been off for days, and I know when a player’s distracted by something stupid. And I’m bettin’ it’s got somethin’ to do with Y/N again. God, why the fuck can't you guys just get your shit together, fuck and get it over with."

Jamie tensed. "We did that actually..." Roy had to fake a shocked look at that. He couldn't possibly tell Jamie that his not-yet-lover already told him everything about that during brunch. In detail. Too much detail... "When I took these sick days last week, I went to Manchester because I've been like heartbroken an' stuff. Keeley was worried and paid me a visit at me mum's house. She told me to just be Y/N's friend, nothin' more. Said it’s better this way, and that'll settle everything between us."

Roy’s face twisted into a look of utter disdain. He knew Keeley visited Jamie to talk sense into him, he knew all about that obviously. It was his plan after all. But telling Jamie that he should friend zone Y/N. That wasn't the plan. To Roy, the plan was "Get them together, so they can be happy and finally shut the fuck up!" not cause more drama and make to people that have the hots for each other be friends!

"And you fuckin’ listened to her?"

Jamie scowled. "I told Y/N how I felt, Roy! I poured me fuckin' heart out and she just fuckin' left and then acted like nothin' happened during that damn podcast. Then I thought I got me shit together and took Keeley's advice, so I told Y/N we're just friends now. Told her I understood her worries about us and that I'm such an 'understanding guy'. But I'm not, I'm a fuckin' selfish prick. Because the day after I told her I thought: Fuck friendship. I want to kiss her, everyday mate. You feel meh?"

"And what the fuck is stopping you, you twat?" Roy rolled his eyes, the situation was migraine-inducing to him. He knew they both love each other, but they just can't seem to figure it out, fucking idiots!

"Nah, she wants to be friends now too. Acting like we're mates and shit. Yesterday she asked me when I would be ready for another podcast recordin', Roy. She texted me a fuckin' yellow heart. A YELLOW HEART, ROY! She's stuck on that friendship thing. I ruined it. Train’s already left the fuckin’ station."

Roy exhaled heavily through his nose, crossing his arms. He knew that Y/N is just playing along with Jamie's friendship request because she is too scared to confess to him. Too scared of total rejection. Coward.

"That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. And I’ve listened to Keeley try to explain the plot of Love Island to me. How the fuck do you even send hearts on your phone?"

"It's an Emoji, the heart's an Emoji. You don't know how to send Emoji's granddad?" Jamie let out a dry laugh, but Roy wasn’t done.

"Listen. Y/N’s not stuck anywhere, Jamie. She’s just bein’ a stubborn idiot. And so are you. I know her well enough, to know that she wants more than friendship with you. For whatever reason... So, you want her to stop pretending she don’t want you? Make her realize what she’s about to lose if she doesn't make a move."

Jamie frowned. "And how the fuck am I supposed to do that?"

Roy’s lips quirked upward into the closest thing he had to a smirk. "Like I said show her what she could be missing. Like in fucking chess. Force her to make the next move. Make her jealous for all I care. You have to tickle the feelings out of her."

Jamie blinked. "You want me to play chess with her—"

"Fuuuuck, ok I forgot that you're a fucking idiot for a second." Roy had to take a breather for a second, a plan developed inside his brain

"Ok, here's how you're going to do it right: There's this dumb Richmond event tomorrow, where we'll have to mingle with the fucking sponsors of the team, yeah? Keeley told me she invited Y/N to join her. Simple, you take a date to that event," Roy explained. "Make it someone proper fit. Someone who makes Y/N’s eye twitch just lookin’ at her. Show Y/N what it feels like to sit on the other side of the fence. If Y/N wants something really bad, she'll take it. Even if it's you, in this case."

Jamie considered it, chewing on the inside of his cheek. "And you think that’ll work?"

Roy palmed his face at that. "Tartt, she already fuckin’ likes you. She just don’t wanna admit it. You get under her skin and force her to deal with it. You want her or not?"

A slow grin spread across Jamie’s face. "Alright. Let’s make her jealous as fuck."

"Ok. Now tell me what an Emoji is and how I text one..."

The venue of said event was nothing short of dazzling, with warm golden lights twinkling above the elegantly decorated ballroom. The event was actually meant to celebrate AFC Richmond’s achievements for the season, to the players and coaches it was more of a 'kissing-up to our sponsors' kind of event. That's why most of them dreaded it, especially Roy Kent, anti-sociality in person. But this time it would be different, entertaining even. This time Roy could lean back and watch Y/N-Jamie-drama unfold in front of his eyes. Like the drama-loving king, he is.

The room was bustling, all of the players, coaches, and nearly everyone who mattered in the club were in attendance. Even Richmond's most famous football podcaster, Y/N. Looking around the big venue, totally out of place until her eyes landed on a certain striker.

Jamie arrived with his chosen fake date—Lena, an old friend who knew exactly what was going on and had agreed to help. She was gorgeous, tall, and poised, draped in a sleek black dress that hugged her in all the right places. More importantly, she was just flirtatious enough with Jamie to sell the act.

He barely stepped inside before catching sight of Y/N. And fuck, she looked breathtaking. An emerald green dress. The of-the-fucking-shoulder kinda dress, it was killing Jamie.

But then he saw the way she froze when she spotted him with Lena. How her hand clenched around her drink. How she blinked twice, like she was trying to process it. Perfect.

Jamie played it cool, keeping a casual arm around Lena’s waist, but internally, he was burning up. Y/N was so fucking beautiful it made his head spin, and if this whole thing wasn’t a ploy to drive her crazy, he’d be halfway across the room telling her exactly how she made his life hell in the best way possible.

The worst part? He was absolutely, pathetically lovesick. It took every ounce of self-control not to stare at her all night, not to gravitate toward her like a desperate idiot.

"Jamie Tartt bringing a date?" Keeley teased as she strolled up to them. Keeley knew Lena. How? Well, Lena and Keeley've had a friends-with-benefits thing going on years ago. That's also how Jamie knew Lena. Lena, the lesbian supermodel. No ounce of her straight.

Keeley was blonde, but she surely wasn't dumb. She knew that there was a plan going on at the moment. Wondering why sh wasn't in on it... "Well, well. Didn’t think you had it in you, Tartt. Beautiful date." Keeley played along, talking loud enough for Y/N to hear. So, Keeley saw right through the plan and approved of it.

Jamie smirked, pleased that Keeley picked up on the situation so quickly. "What can I say? A man’s gotta move on, right?"

Keeley gave him another knowing look but said nothing, watching as Y/N took a sharp sip of her drink and turned away abruptly.

Lena leaned in, whispering not loud enough for Y/N to overhear, "She’s staring, you know."

Jamie chuckled. "That's the whole point."

Y/N was livid. And worse—she had no right to be livid. Jamie was free to date whoever the hell he wanted. They were just friends after all.

That's what Jamie told her, and she just agreed to it?!

But fuck, why did he have to look so good? And why was his date touching his arm like that? And why was he looking at her with that smug, knowing expression?

"Jamie," Lena turned towards the striker, who was busy watching his target, Y/N, like prey. She whispered. "I don't blame you for staring at her, she's fucking fit. Honestly, if she doesn't confess to you soon, I might just snatch her away from you. But shouldn't you keep making her jealous and not stare her down?"

"Right, right." Jamie thought about what Lena said and composed himself really fast. "She looks like she's goin' to storm over 'er soon. I'm gonna touch your waist and whisper something in your ear, that okay?" Jamie was all about consent, even though it's pretend. Lena nodded.

"Lena, go and get yourself somethin' to drink, she'll come talk to me while you're gone."

If Jamie knew Y/N well enough (which he does), he knew that she would come to talk to him as soon as Lena was out of sight. She was short-fused after all.

Lena nodded. "It's a plan."

And what a plan it was. Y/N didn't leave Jamie and his date out of her sight for the whole evening. As soon as Jamie's date left for the bar, Y/N's feet dragged herself toward Jamie.

She downed her drink and marched towards him before she could talk herself out of it.

"Hi, Jamie. Have a great evening with your date?" she said sweetly, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Did you pick her up from a modeling agency or just order her custom?"

Y/N wasn't like that. She never was. But the big green monster made her a..... bitch. Jealous, Jealousy.

Jamie barely contained his laugh, he didn't know his Y/N could be like that. Roy, standing off to the side, failed miserably at hiding his big fat smirk. He knew it...

"Jealous, are we?" Jamie asked, cocking his head.

Y/N’s jaw clenched. "Of course not. I think it’s adorable how you two are pretending to have chemistry."

Lena, the true MVP, entered their conversation again, finally back from the bar, and played along perfectly. "Oh, Jamie and I have loads of chemistry, don’t we, babe?"

Jamie grinned. "Oh, yeah. Absolute fire."

Y/N gave him a tight-lipped smile and turned her attention towards Lena. "Well hello, I'm Y/N, the girl Jamie said 'I love you' to last week. Don’t let me keep you from your thriving love life. Enjoy your evening."

And with that, she turned on her heel and stormed off. Slightly embarrassed.

Roy walked proudly towards Jamie. "God she’s fucking fumin’. It’s workin’."

Jamie barely held back his laugh. "Fuckin’ hell, she’s so hot when she’s mad."

Lena groaned. "You’re both idiots. How about you go after her now, Jamie?"

Jamie found Y/N outside later that night, arms crossed as she stared at the city lights. He approached slowly, hands in his pockets.

"Y’know," he mused, "you looked ready to throw a punch back there."

She shot him a glare. "Fuck off, Tartt. Don't you want to go back to your date?"

Jamie smirked. "Why? Don’t like seein’ me with someone else?"

Y/N turned to fully face him, eyes blazing. "You’re insufferable."

Jamie stepped closer, his voice dropping. "You don’t have to be jealous, you know. She was just a friend. No strings attached."

Y/N swallowed, her resolve wavering. "Good for you."

Jamie tilted his head, his smile softening. "You can admit it, y’know. You like me."

Y/N’s breath hitched. "Jamie—"

He leaned in, so close she could smell his cologne. "Say it."

But she didn’t. Not yet.

She turned and walked away, leaving Jamie staring after her, his smirk fading into something softer.

She wasn’t ready. But fuck, she was close. He nearly had her.

Their next podcast episode? It was gonna be explosive.

[luxury-nightmare]

@chaos-m0nsterfucker Part two has arrived! And oh boy I have some stuff on her. The Hunt was the reason I started this whole thing. I had this idea in my head for a Hunt avatar so I decided to just do all of them for no reason.

She was actually inspired by the concept of a witch hunt. So essentially she grew up in a sect of the lightless flame. I imagine after Agnes died the cult spilt off into different sects, like one who wants to try and attempt another ritual as soon as possible, one who wants to avenge her, one who seeks to simply worship the flame in peace, that kinda stuff. She was born into a sect that focused on tracking down those they thing responsible for Agnes’s death. How she became a hunter instead of a Desolation avatar? Well good old Juergen Leitner (stupid idiot motherfucking Juergen-). She got her hands on a Hunt book and it took root inside of her. When it came time for her to become (literally being burned at the stake because I would not know subtlety if it hit me with a truck) The Hunt chose her instead of The Desolation, and they knew, so she ran.

It’s important to know that she is not the predator in this dynamic, she is the prey

She’s been hunting Leitners ever since. She doesn’t burn them like Gerry does though, she distributes them to people she thinks they’ll help. Like she’ll give a Buried victim a Vast book, or someone so deeply watched a book on I Do Not Know You. The only books she ever disposes of are Desolation. She’ll chuck them into The Buried, The Lonely, hell sometimes she’ll call up the Fairchilds to dispose of them. She never gives them the mercy of a firey end.

Also thank you to @gravemations for naming the Slaughter avatar! She is now officially Ruth Ellison. Working on The Flesh as requested.

Share your name ideas below

[inkagenda]

do you have any fun or random hensper headcannons???

i do!!! thanks for giving me an excuse to dump some of them :)

1) jasper is very affectionate but was really surprised to find out that henry is even cornier. once they've gotten together and figured their shit out, henry goes all out. he just constantly flirts with jasper, pulling out the "i'm in a band" line and sending cringey redflix and chill memes, even though they're literally already together.

2) jasper never grew out of his bucket phase; he just started keeping it to himself because he figured no one actually cared. henry noticed this, so when he sees a random bucket, he'll point it out, or he'll pretend to have a photo of a bucket pop up on his twitflash feed, just so he can get jasper to start talking about buckets again. one time, he even bought a miniature bucket and randomly gave it to jasper to use as a pencil case, and when jasper looked all confused, henry tried to play it cool and was all like "oh, i thought you still liked buckets." (jasper did, in fact, still like buckets (he kept the pencil bucket)).

3) henry is jasper's go-to when he's freaking out (which is kind of already canon tbh). in love muffin when omar spits on jasper, henry's there with a rag and a hand on jasper's shoulder. he's reassuring jasper, saying things like "it's alright, it's not that bad, come here," which makes me believe henry is just more gentle and affectionate than anyone else when it comes to jasper, which is why he's the best at comforting jasper. other people wouldn't speak to jasper softly the way henry does or give him hugs and comforting touches.

and then there's the quiet times when jasper has to calm henry down or try to make him feel better, and jasper is incredibly good at it. except there are times where he just can't always do his best because they're currently in a time where henry has only girlfriends, and jasper is his best friend, so even though he likes henry, he's there when henry ends up between girlfriends or in an argument. and when this happens, he always ends up doing something dumb to cheer henry up, like grabbing henry's hand and playing a game of thumb war or rock, paper, scissors. so he'll take henry's hand and place it on top of his own closed fist and then goes “you win… yay!” and lets go to pump his fists in the air. it's stupid, but it always works on henry.

4) when they lived in their apartment in dystopia, grocery shopping was quite literally a game for them. they sucked at it, so they had to make it fun otherwise they wouldn't get what they needed or do it right. but the games started to get physical to the point where they'd get kicked out, so they stuck to just making puns out of brands and stuff. but then they'd get competitive and physical again, so it's now a cycle.

5) and future married-with-kids hensper is just them timing each other and seeing who can speed-run getting the kids dressed or ready for school the fastest.

and idk if this counts as a headcanon but missy had a hensper phase!! when they arrive to a new reality, and henry is suddenly dressed in a tuxedo, he's just totally confused. and ray steps inside and he's like "kid, what the hell are you doing? get out here." and then he's just standing there thinking that he's the best man at jasper's wedding, until jasper walks down the aisle, and henry realizes what's happening.

(i also have one that's kinda the opposite way. it's the same concept, except henry is pushed through the doors and is made to walk down the aisle).

[raccoonfallsharder]

hello, friends! i wanted to give you a quick update. i am certainly on the mend right now. i feel better than i have in probably a week or more, and though i am still not clear of pneumonia and all its complications in my life lol, i am hoping to be almost completely back to normal by the end of this week, if all goes well.

i also wanted to thank you all for your kindness and also your threats and affectionate insults. thank you, so much, for caring. the world can be a hard place to live, and we are encouraged in so many ways to live these small atomized lives. but no matter how tenuous or fleeting our internet-interactions are, they are still real, and i appreciate you reaching out to tell me to rest, and to send me your well-wishes. it truly does mean so much, not only as a moment of connection, but also as a reminder of how well people can care for each other, even those they barely know or never met. you all inspire and uplift me, and i am grateful for it.

for those of you more curious about the details (and the absolutely absurdity of my friday night this week), you can read on. i tend to fall into irreverent medical narrative monologuing (as i do with everything else lol) but i will try to keep it brief.

content warnings for doctors, medical stuff, pain and illness, emergencies, and hospitals.

here's the basic timeline of my week lol:

on tuesday, i got really sick. i tend to not have a lot of normal symptoms for things (i have only had a fever once in my life, and it was NOT the time i had appendicitis, a ruptured intestine, or kidney stones), and figuring out when i don't feel well takes a lot of conscious effort on my part. plus i gaslight myself hard. these are all things i'm working on and have gotten a lot better at - which is probably the only reason why i went to urgent care instead of convincing myself this was "just a flu" and trying to take care of myself at home. i had been having side pain as well, which i had attributed to a pulled muscle, but something in me was afraid i had maybe done something else and caused an injury that got infected or something. i don't know, it just felt connected.

urgent care diagnosed me with probable pneumonia (they couldn't find it with the stethoscope, but they were confident it was there) and started treating that. they believed the strained muscle was not related but told me to come back on friday with an x-ray if my other symptoms didn't improve.

on friday morning, we went to get an x-ray done at 7am and hit up urgentcare on the way back. the x-ray said i was clear on pneumonia, but my cough was worse and my nausea had returned (no fever anymore though, thank goodness). my muscle pain in my back was also so much worse, presumably because of all my coughing, so they gave me some meds for my lungs and for my muscle pain.

now we get to friday evening, probably 5pm. i have a coughing fit with an unsupported back - and i scream. i think i blacked out for a second. my partner came in running. i couldn't move. i've never been in so much pain in my life, and i have a stupid-high pain tolerance. (this is another part of my issue with figuring out when i don't feel well). at this point, the pain had suddenly migrated. it felt like it was grinding down through my flank and into my groin. the location felt very similar to a kidney stone but it was unlike anything i had ever experienced before. i was sweating, trying to walk to the car and then up through the hospital doors. the guard at the front was like "get this woman a wheelchair" lollol.

it was a pretty crowded night so when we were admitted, we were stuck in the hall, which was fine by me. the doctors and nurses were all lovely (my partner believes we were the favorites on the floor because we are very easy-going and also funny lol. i think he has a slightly-inflated view of us but whatever, one of us is wrong and i'm happy if it's me). anyway, the med staff all seemed to think - like me - that perhaps all my symptoms had actually been a kidney stone, and that it was the cough that was unrelated, rather than the muscle pain. so eventually i go back a CT. The scan comes back an hour or so later and, surprise, it is still pneumonia (of course it was able to pick up what an x-ray couldn't). What it also noticed is that the pneumonia had inflamed my entire diaphragm. i do not remember learning much about the diaphragm in school but i knew from logic that it had something to do with respiration because of my choir- and stage-inclined friends. but it does a lot of other things as well (like puppeteering the bladder) and impacts a lot of systems and also, apparently, causes a lot of fucking pain when inflamed.

so. they had already given me some pretty hefty anti-inflammatories. they tell me they'd actually like to replace the seven other drugs the urgent care doctors have me on with one different one. it should totally knock out the pneumonia, especially since i will be starting with a full course of the medication after already tackling the pneumonia with the other antibiotics since tuesday. this sounds great to me, and i say sure. they give me the new drug and discharge me, more quickly than i have ever seen a discharge take place, and i was on my way - already feeling better than i had in days thanks to the antiinflammatory they'd given me before.

here's where the night gets spicy

we get in the car, i'm feeling better than i have in days, it's all good. we hit the freeway and i'm like. huh. my face feels funny.

my partner's like.... what.

i'm like, i don't know? my face feels funny? not itchy or anything, but like.... weird?

he says, should we go back?

i'm like... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i genuinely cannot identify this sensation.

then something switches, and i'm like... oh yeah, okay. my mouth and face all feel like... not itchy, but fuzzy. staticky. and while i have not had this kind of reaction before (like everything else, my allergies show up weirdly), i have heard about it. so i say, yeah.... i think we should go back. my throat's a little tight, but there's no swelling on my face, no hives - because again, i am weirdly symptomatic. and because i'm aces at gaslighting myself, i say, maybe i'm overreacting?

which is when i realize that at some point, my partner has called 911. i answer some questions but it's definitely hard to keep my eyes open. and then the car is pulled over, and there are EMTs. and my partner tells them i've been passing out at thirty second intervals. i tell them i'm just being a drama queen and i'm probably overreacting. they apparently think that's some bullshit and i get my very first ambulance ride. i'm phasing in and out - pretty badly hypotensive with really low blood pressure, but still - no visible swelling. my throat is tight enough that my voice sounds like that of a ninety-year-old who's been smoking four packs a day her entire life, but there's nothing they can SEE, other than that i'm "cold and clammy" (rude, lol). still, they stick me with epinephrine and give me some O2 and take me right back to where i come from.

one of the nurses from earlier sees me being wheeled in (to a room, this time - no hallways for repeat customers, i guess) and she is like, "NO! miss dae! why are you back?!!" and i say, "because i missed you. and i wanted the room upgrade."

and then i start giggling hysterically.

and the registering nurse asks me if i consent to have my insurance billed and i say, "FUCK YEAH. fuck those guys" and giggle some more. i don't know if that was the epinephrine or just pure delirium at that point.

then i start crying because i feel so bad about coming back, again. all my self-gaslighting really coming out to the forefront. and they're like, NO, you did absolutely what you should have done, don't be silly.

they get me all settled and are shooting me up with a ton of antihistamines, and finally let me partner back, and my voice still sounds like rocks going through a meat grinder but you know what? you know what antihistimines do? THEY DECREASE INFLAMMATION. so my diaphragm is feeling better than it has in like, a week.

my doctor from earlier comes in, and he clearly felt so bad about everything. he tells me to return to my previous course of drugs, and puts this one in my file as another allergen. after about an hour of fluids and watching me, they release us. we get home at 3:30am and crawl into bed, safe as houses.

now, i can't really say "the end." the pneumonia's not gone yet, and i still have some ongoing pain from my diaphragm. additionally, a coughing fit that happened later that night does seem to have damaged an old surgery site (probably because of the diaphragm muscle, actually), so i need to get that checked out this week too. BUT. i am feeling so much better than i have all week. i am privileged to have decent insurance and while we do have to live pretty frugally, we make ends meet. we're lucky that we will be able to take care of these bills when they come.

and honestly? that shit is FUNNY. (i mean, for me. definitely not for my poor partner who probably lost twenty-seven years off his life; pray for him). i can't wait to really perfect the way i tell this story because it's HILARIOUS. like. what the fuck

anyway if you actually read all this, first of all, wow. second of all. i appreciate you. thank you for worrying about me, for wondering about me, and for caring in general. i'm so grateful, and i hope that you have everything you need, today and every day moving forward.