#And it doesn't mean you can't like the book

[yuujispinkhair]

I WANNA BE YOUR ENDGAME – Chapter 12

🏒❤️ A Hockey Romance feat. modern!Sukuna

Pairing: HockeyPlayer!Sukuna x Reader (female) Genre: College AU, Hockey AU, fluff + smut Playlist: I wanna be your Endgame Word Count: 6k Warnings: 18+, smut, cigarettes, alcohol. Fuckbuddies to lovers. Reader is a creative writing student. Sukuna is an ice hockey player + history student. This story will have approximately 15 chapters. Minors don't interact. Header by me. Divider @/benkeibear

MASTERLIST

When Sukuna and you enter the university holding hands, you know the news will spread fast. You can't help but wonder what kind of gossip people will share about the two of you. After all, Sukuna isn't just anybody but the star player of the most successful ice hockey team this college has had in many decades. And on top of that, he is infamous for being the guy who doesn't date.

Well, things have changed.

You smile softly as you lean into Sukuna's side, resting your head against his buff biceps and feeling his large hand give yours a reassuring squeeze. He is acting his usual self, strutting down this hallway as if he owns it, head held high, arrogant smirk perfectly in place, fixing the people around you with a condescending stare.

But he doesn't even try to keep your new relationship low-key or hide it from the public eye. It makes your stomach flutter as you stroll down the hallway and Sukuna never lets go of your hand. You reach your classroom and Sukuna grins his most charming grin before he leans down to kiss you on the lips, right there in the middle of the hallway for everyone to see.

It's a lingering, slow kiss, leaving no doubt about what it means. Sukuna's large tattooed hand cups your cheek, tilting your head so he can deepen the kiss, flicking his tongue teasingly against yours before he slowly pulls away with that typical sexy smirk on his handsome face,

"Have fun in class, princess. And don't forget your lunch date with your boyfriend."

He grins at you, the tip of his tongue playing with one of his sharp canines as he watches you with an amused but also intense look.

Boyfriend.

Hearing Sukuna say that word makes your tummy fill with butterflies. A breathless chuckle escapes your lips,

"As if I would ever forget my boyfriend. But just to make sure, why don't you pick your girlfriend up from class?"

You grin up at Sukuna with a racing heart, delighted to see his Adam's apple bob and his long lashes flutter for a moment. You don't seem to be the only one who gets flustered by the use of that new name.

Sukuna's large hand lands on your head, ruffling your hair, before he finally pulls away with a wink and tells you to hurry up so your professor won't have a reason to berate you today.

You have your little lunch date a few hours later, sitting at your usual table, Sukuna's table, eating and chatting about Sukuna's upcoming game and your creative writing class.

Things feel like they always do. There is no big change in the way you act around each other. The two of you follow the same routine you already developed gradually during the last few months since Sukuna came into your life.

It makes you realize just how natural it has already become to be by Sukuna's side almost all the time. Even before you got together, you already met on campus every morning, chatting and joking around while Sukuna walked you to your classes, carrying your heavy books and ruffling your hair. You already went to lunch together all the time, and later on, met in the library to study and eat the snacks Sukuna prepared, your hands brushing over each other when you reached into the snack box at the same time.

Everything is still the same, but, at the same time, it isn't. Because now, Sukuna holds your hand as you walk down the hallway. Now he kisses you openly, not just behind closed doors or when he's drunk, but in the middle of the crowded hallway. And at lunch, he holds your hand on top of the table, his long tattooed fingers absentmindedly playing with yours while he complains about one of his teammates.

And you rest your chin on your other hand, watching your boyfriend with a dreamy smile, thinking to yourself that somehow it feels as if it was always meant to happen this way.

Nobara is very smug about your relationship update. She found out about it the day after your date in the hockey arena because she walked in on Sukuna and you sharing a deep kiss in the living room. She made a disgusted noise and banged her door shut again, but when Sukuna left an hour later to go to the gym, Nobara cornered you immediately, leaning against your doorframe with her arms crossed in front of her chest, a triumphant grin on her face,

"So, you and Kirby, huh? I knew it!"

You shrugged helplessly, unable to stop the big smile from spreading over your face when you admitted,

"Well, I guess you saw it coming sooner than I did."

Right now, she's lounging lazily on the couch, waving around her fingers to let her nail polish dry while watching you with a knowing look as you check reflection a few times too often in the mirror next to the front door.

"Are you seeing loverboy? Not that I am complaining, by the way. I prefer it when you visit him, so I don't have to see his stupid face."

You huff loudly, turning around to give her a stern look,

"Nobara! Sukuna can actually be really nice! If you would get to know him better, then.."

But Nobara interrupts you, laughing and rolling her eyes,

"I'm just teasing you. I don't mind. Just make sure he doesn't drink all the milk when he's staying here."

With that, she turns around again, lifting her freshly manicured hands in front of her face, inspecting her work, and you stand there with a grin spreading over your face. Maybe Sukuna is growing on your dormmate after all.

"There's a hockey party at our dorm tomorrow."

Sukuna is lying on his bed with one buff arm behind his neck, cat-like maroon eyes watching you lazily, and a sexy smirk on his beautiful tattooed face. He looks so good that it should be illegal. Only wearing his stupid low-sitting grey sweats, so his buff pecs and taut abs are on full display. You don't even know where to look. There is just so much of him, big and broad and so gorgeous with all those muscles and the smooth tattooed skin everywhere.

You have to forcibly shake yourself out of staring at Sukuna with heart-eyes, but when you manage it, you raise an eyebrow teasingly,

"So what are you trying to tell me with that info, Kuna? That we can't see each other tomorrow?"

Sukuna rolls his pretty eyes, his lips lifting in an equally teasing and amused grin,

"Don't play clueless, sweetheart. You know damn well why I'm telling you that."

You grin at Sukuna, leaning closer to him, playfully blinking at him and batting your lashes,

"Hmmm, maybe you have to spell it out for me, baby."

A low, raspy laugh falls from Sukuna's mouth, and he reaches out with his free hand, cupping your chin and brushing his thumb slowly over your lower lip. His intense maroon gaze never leaves you when he whispers in that sexy low drawl,

"I want you to accompany me to that party. Or, to make things even clearer for you, I want you to be my date. Now, what do you say, princess?"

You feel a bit light-headed from the fluttery feeling in your stomach that Sukuna's words cause. Asking you out on your first official date. You can't stop grinning as you nod, pressing a little kiss to Sukuna's thumb that's still resting on your lower lip,

"I say yes."

Your grin turns into a surprised squeal when Sukuna's arms wrap around you and pull you on top of him.

You enter the party on Sukuna's arm and instantly feel intimidated. The apartment is much bigger than Sukuna's and Yuuji's, and the whole place is bustling with people.

You tried to reassure yourself beforehand that this is just a regular college party. But now that you are here, you can't deny anymore, what you already knew deep down. This isn't just a normal college party. It's the kind of party you have never been invited to before.

The large apartment is filled with only the most popular people the campus has to offer. Admired athletes, popular jocks, and just as popular cheerleaders, beautiful sorority girls, and rich daughters and sons of all kinds of important people.

It's a crowd you aren't used to. A crowd that is very good at excluding people like you, who aren't considered anything special in their eyes. Just a boring creative writing student whose name no one has heard before.

Technically, you know that not all of the popular people are like that. Most of Sukuna's teammates are really ok, and the girls in your classes who are also athletes are nice, too. Even Gojo Satoru was easy to get along with when you interviewed him.

But tonight, the large apartment is bustling with people you have never talked to before, and their heads instantly snap to you as Sukuna and you enter the party. Their stares make your stomach clench nervously. You can imagine how Sukuna and you must look to them: The star player of the hockey team, the King of the Ice, and next to him the nameless girl, who is clinging nervously to his large hand while her heart beats up to her throat.

You feel Sukuna's thumb caresses your wrist lightly. A sweet, reassuring gesture that makes you let out the breath you had unconsciously been holding. Sukuna leans down to murmur in your ear,

"Don't be nervous, princess. Just focus on me. Those insects don't even deserve your attention."

You laugh at his words, grateful for how he makes you feel more at ease. Sukuna flashes you one of his most charming smiles and gently tugs you along into the kitchen, where the whole hockey team is gathered, all cheering and whistling loudly when their star player enters. Sukuna returns all the high fives and takes a shot glass from the huge tray that Todo is passing around.

Just when you want to take a step back so the players can drink together, Sukuna's strong arm stops you, keeping you right there by his side. Todo and Yuuji join you, offering you a vodka shot because "You are Sukuna's lucky charm, so you count as an honorary team member!"

You burst out laughing, smiling gratefully at them as you lift your glass to join in on the player's toast. The small room keeps getting fuller as more people come looking for the hockey players, and Sukuna grins at you and lifts you up, setting you on the kitchen counter so he can stand between your legs. His tattooed face comes closer to yours, maroon eyes gazing deeply into yours, and your pulse races. Your hand cups Sukuna's cheek right when his lips brush over yours.

Sukuna's kiss makes your head spin with the way he licks into your mouth and how his large hands wrap around your waist while he pushes his body between your legs.

The rest of the party is far from your mind when you have Sukuna's tongue in your mouth, but unfortunately, you can't make out the whole evening. Sukuna's teammates demand his presence, and you need to go to the bathroom. So you excuse yourself, smiling when Sukuna ruffles your hair before you walk out of the kitchen.

This time, you feel more at ease when you enter the living room, an effect of the alcohol and Sukuna's kisses. But only after a few steps, you feel the atmosphere shift again. The scrutinizing gazes are back.

Spending time with Sukuna on campus already put you in the spotlight, but that felt different somehow. Maybe because a few days ago, you were just the mysterious girl who sometimes walked next to him or the lucky charm he brought to his games. Maybe you seemed like no competition. Like no one important. Just another little fling. Just another replaceable puck bunny. But now you are the girl who took the star player of the ice hockey team off the market, and everyone seems to ask themselves how you managed to do that. It feels as if you get put under a microscope, inspected curiously, and every flaw is analyzed and frowned upon.

You try to ignore the murmurs and stares, even while internally, a storm is brewing in you. Self-doubts mix with anger and dig their claws into your heart. You are relieved when you reach the bathroom and can lock yourself in it, escaping from the gazes and murmurs for at least a few minutes.

You take your time washing your hands, letting the ice-cold water run over your wrists as you look at your face in the mirror.

Come on, don't be stupid. It's just a party. Let them talk. They are just curious because Sukuna has never brought a date before. Just get back to the kitchen and enjoy the rest of the evening!

You steel yourself, straightening up before you open the door and exit the bathroom again.

"Does she really believe she has what it takes to be the girl at Sukuna's side?"

"Right? Sukuna is way out of her league. Who is she even?"

You draw in a sharp breath as your eyes meet the ones of the two girls talking shit about you. They don't even look guilty for getting caught but just stare at you with a scornful expression.

You want to get away from here! Your first instinct is to flee into Sukuna's strong arms, but a wall of football players who are raising their beer bottles and toasting each other is blocking your way. Your gaze lands on the door leading to the balcony. Before you even think about it, your feet carry you towards it.

You step onto the large balcony, deeply inhaling the crisp night air as if you are drowning. You grip the railing tightly, looking at the dark sky above you, internally screaming at yourself to stop being so stupid! Why do you let that random gossip affect you?

You know they were just talking shit. You know Sukuna better than they do! You know what the two of you have is real. But hearing those words still bugs you. They feed the demon inside you that whispers to you that maybe you are really not good enough to be the woman by Sukuna's side. Tears prick at your eyes, but you clench them shut, refusing to cry.

But before you can spiral further, a familiar low, velvety voice speaks up behind you,

"What are you doing out here, princess?"

The tight grip of your hands around the balcony railing loosens when you feel Sukuna's muscular arms wrap around you. You instantly relax into his embrace, leaning against his tall, firm body, chiding yourself silently for letting those judgemental gazes and mean comments get to you and fill your mind with doubts.

"I just needed some fresh air."

You feel Sukuna's warm breath on your neck when he laughs his sexy, low laugh. His lips brush over your neck, and then they open, and his hot tongue glides teasingly over your sensitive skin, making your pulse race and butterflies dance in your belly. You are about to get lost in Sukuna's closeness, in his touch, in the warmth of his buff body, and the feeling of his lips on you, but he is too perceptive, analyzing you too closely.

"Tell me what's wrong, princess."

His arms tighten around you, and he nuzzles his warm lips against your neck,

"You suddenly bolted from the room. Right when I was about to come over to you. Are you feeling sick or something? Do you need me to bring you home? I'll do it, you know that, right? Fuck that boring party. Let's go and get you into bed and watch some trash TV we can make fun of."

Your heart clenches. He is so sweet to you. So caring. It's something you never thought a guy like Sukuna could be. It makes you feel even more guilty for being so affected by some rude comment a stranger said. And so you blurt out the truth,

"I just...I heard some people say something that upset me."

You can feel Sukuna tense up behind you. His voice sounds strained when he asks,

"What did they say?"

"That you're out of my league."

Sukuna huffs. He puts his hands on your hips, turning you around. A large hand cups your cheek, tilting your head so you look up at your boyfriend's tattooed face. The usual playfulness is gone from Sukuna's features, replaced by a serious look.

"They are wrong, princess. I am not out of your league. If anything, it's the other way around."

You are about to say something to him, contradicting him, asking him how he could ever think you are out of his league, but Sukuna puts a long tattooed finger on your lips and shakes his head,

"Listen, princess. I don't give a fuck about anyone's popularity. I play hockey to win, not because I want to be some college celebrity. I despise the people who just want to be with me because they think they can gain some advantage from it. Fuck them! I invited you because when you're with me, everything is better. I want you here. You are my girl. I like having you by my side, and I am proud of showing you off. You make this stupid party 100% better for me, and if anyone gave you the feeling you don't belong here, I have something to say to them."

Your heart feels so full that you can't help but smile from ear to ear. Sukuna's lips lift in his lopsided, handsome smirk when he intertwines his long fingers with your smaller ones and watches you while he jerks his tattooed chin towards the door,

"Come on, let's go back. I have to show my face for a while longer to support my team. And you have a job to do, too, Miss. You're my lucky charm, after all. It's literally in your job description to be by my side. I might get into an accident otherwise, break a leg or some shit like that and not be able to play for weeks. We can't let that happen. Surely you understand. Now give me a kiss."

You laugh at the playful words, reaching out to put your hands on Sukuna's defined pecs, bracing yourself on his chest as you get on your tiptoes to give him a sweet little kiss on the lips before you let him lead you back into the living room.

When you were making your way through the living room on your own, you struggled to find a path through the crowd, but now you are on Sukuna's arm, and Sukuna doesn't have that problem. Anyone who sees him steps aside, making room for him. And the ones who don't see him coming get shoved to the side by Sukuna's tall, muscular body.

There's a group of guys to your left who look your way. One of them turns his head to say something to his friend. You don't catch it, but you feel Sukuna tense up beside you.

He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze before he lets it drop, and before you can ask what's going on, Sukuna is already on the guy who grinned at you, his hands twisted in the guy's shirt, slamming him brutally into the wall behind him as if they are on the ice, and Sukuna is slamming an opponent into the boards.

A loud murmur goes through the crowd. People jump to the side, and others come closer. You see Yuuji's pink hair and hear Todo's booming voice. But all of that seems far away from you. Your focus is only zoomed in on your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend, who is glaring at the guy who apparently must have said something about you. The guy is looking at Sukuna with wide eyes, trying to splutter some excuse for whatever he said, but Sukuna shakes his head, a slow, dangerous smirk spreading over his tattooed face as he pushes the guy into the wall once more.

Contrary to Sukuna's physical force, his voice is calm, though. Deadly calm. Cooing at the guy tauntingly as a cruel smirk spreads over Sukuna's face,

"You're really fucking insane, aren't you? Daring to insult my girlfriend. Acting so tough when, in reality, you are such a pathetic little guy. Apologize to her."

Adrenaline is sizzling in your veins. Seeing Sukuna like that is making you feel light-headed. A mix of worry and strange pride and arousal flows through you. You know Sukuna has that bad boy reputation, but this is the first time you see him attack someone off the ice. It's actually fucking hot. Especially when he's doing it for you.

The guy stammers an apology, squirming in Sukuna's tight grip and trying to shake him off, but he doesn't stand a chance against the force that is Itadori Sukuna. His friends don't come to his rescue either. All of them are cowering a few feet away, apparently not wanting to get on Sukuna's bad side.

Sukuna slams him against the wall once more, his tone cold and dangerous,

"Let me spell it out for you and everyone else. She's my girlfriend. She belongs to these parties. She belongs everywhere where I belong, too. Do you understand that?"

Sukuna cocks his head, smirking that dangerous smirk, his voice dripping with sadistic amusement.

The guy nods hurriedly, eyes wide with fear,

"Yes! Yes, of course!"

And Sukuna laughs, his voice dropping to a low, velvety whisper,

"Now get the fuck out of my sight. I give you ten seconds. And if I ever get wind of you talking shit about my girl again, I will fuck up your whole life."

He lifts his head to let his narrowed maroon eyes scan the room slowly,

"And that goes for every single one of you."

You could hear a pin drop in the large room. The whole room is either staring at Sukuna or looking anywhere but at him, too intimidated to look at the enraged King of the Ice.

Sukuna yanks the guy off the wall and pushes him into the middle of the room, sending him stumbling into his friends, who catch him while Sukuna watches with a raised eyebrow,

"What are you still doing here, scum? I told you to run. Do I really have to start counting as if we are in kindergarten? Ten. Nine..."

It doesn't take more. The guy scrambles to his feet and practically bolts from the party, followed by his friends, accompanied by the loud booing and laughter coming from the hockey team.

Sukuna is by your side again, the cruel smirk replaced by the boyish grin you have grown so fond of. He wraps a strong arm around your shoulder and pulls you to him. His touch is so gentle, so completely different from the way he just treated the guy who talked shit about you.

"Sorry that you had to see this. But I had to be an asshole real quick. I won't let anyone disrespect you."

"It's ok. You are a very sexy asshole."

You tilt your head to grin up at Sukuna, and he meets your gaze with an amused sparkle in his maroon eyes. His arms tighten around you, and he leans down to claim your lips in a heated kiss. Making out with you in the middle of the crowded living room, letting everyone see that you are his girl.

Your eyes close, and you sigh, kissing Sukuna back eagerly, drowning in his closeness, adrenaline flowing through your veins after seeing him be so protective over you and seeing him display his affection for you in front of everyone.

Sukuna doesn't leave your side for the rest of the evening. You have some more vodka shots, get some snacks from the kitchen, and join Yuuji and Todo on the couch to chat with them about hockey and your classes and laugh about the time you were their getaway driver after they destroyed their rival teams' ice sculpture.

Sukuna pulled you onto his lap at some point, and you stayed right there, basking in the feeling of his strong arms wrapped around you, his warm lips occasionally trailing little kisses over your neck, and the firm muscles of his chest and abs rippling against your back anytime he laughs.

The fluttery feeling in your tummy doesn't go away the whole evening, and it even intensifies when Sukuna gives his brother and Todo high fives and tells them he and you are leaving.

Sukuna steers you out of the apartment with a strong hand on the small of your back while he walks behind you, close enough for you to feel his tall, broad body.

You walk down the staircase next to each other with one of Sukuna's arms thrown over your shoulder. Sukuna's and Yuuji's apartment is just two floors down the staircase, but before you even reach it, Sukuna has already pulled a battered cigarette pack out of his jeans pocket and lights a cigarette while his arm is still around you, making you stumble against him. He takes a deep drag and groans in satisfaction as the nicotine fills his lungs.

"Fuck, I needed that after that stupid party."

You laugh and shake your head, wordlessly pointing at the big no-smoking sign plastered to the wall right next to Sukuna. He smirks at you, raising an eyebrow as he slowly blows out the smoke,

"Who is gonna stop me? At least I'm not smoking in our apartment, so my dear brother won't throw things at me."

You roll your eyes in mock exasperation and wrap a hand around Sukuna's biceps, pulling on his arm,

"Come on, big boy, let's go outside for a while so you can smoke without getting in trouble, and I can get some fresh air. I need it too after that party."

"You're so cute, princess."

Sukuna smirks teasingly at you, but he obeys and lets you pull him down the stairs and out of the dorm.

The two of you stand on the pavement before the building, hugging closely while Sukuna smokes slowly, blowing the smoke in your face with a teasing smirk and watching you with his cat-like gaze. You sigh and roll your eyes but only snuggle closer against him, your arms wrapped around him, nails running up and down his broad back, gently scratching him as you let Sukuna's secondhand smoke and his warm embrace and the smell of his cologne calm your nerves.

It's suddenly easy again. Peaceful. Joking around with Sukuna, rolling your eyes playfully at him, and laughing with him. The party seems miles away. All that exists is Sukuna and you.

The circles he moves in are still foreign to you, but it doesn't matter, you realize. When it comes down to it, all that matters is just you and him and this thing between you. This strong connection that feels so natural and magnetic.

Of course, you say yes when Sukuna flicks his cigarette to the ground and asks if you will spend the night at his apartment. He takes your hand, intertwines his long fingers with yours, and gently tugs you along, leading you back up the staircase to his apartment, making your tummy flutter with the way his thumb is caressing your wrist.

Sukuna unlocks the door, and his lips are on yours the moment you enter the apartment. His muscular arms swoop you up, carrying you to his room, his large, calloused hands undressing you while his tongue licks slowly into your mouth. And you moan his name, slipping your hands under his shirt, pulling it up, caressing Sukuna's warm tattooed skin, running your fingers over his defined muscles, smiling when he growls into your mouth.

The two of you tumble onto the bed, never breaking the kiss, moaning into each other's mouth as you yank at your clothes. Sukuna is naked before you and gets to work on pulling your jeans and your panties off, his hands running down your legs, followed by his soft lips, making your hips buck needily, your fingers tangling in his soft pink hair, tugging on it, pulling him to you, needing more of him. Needing him closer. Needing all of him.

His low chuckle sends a pleasure-filled shiver down your spine as he pushes you down on the mattress. Sukuna's tall, broad figure covers you fully, his weight traps you under him in the most delicious way. His lips find yours again in another slow, deep, wet kiss. You feel his hard cock rub against your belly, hot and velvety, making you wrap your legs around Sukuna's hips in your need to get him inside you, moaning into his mouth, your hands in his hair, your body arching needily up against his buff body.

You are so wet for him just from kissing him, making Sukuna groan breathlessly when his cock slips between your legs and glides through your slick pussy lips. He pulls away for a second, but only to push into you when he snaps his hips against you, making both of you gasp when his thick cockhead splits you open.

And then it's needy, slow fucking. Sukuna keeps kissing you, deep, loving tongue kisses, his strong arms resting on both sides of your face, his muscular body moving on top of you, fucking you with slow, deep thrusts.

It's nasty but sweet at the same time. Slow sex, more lovemaking than fucking. And you melt, giving yourself fully to Sukuna, mewling into his mouth, squeezing your legs around him, digging your nails into the buff muscles of his broad back, kissing him back hungrily, gasping with every deep, slow thrust that kisses your sweet spot.

The lights in Sukuna's room are off. The only light comes from the streetlamps that shine their glow through the window. Your mind is hazy, partly from the vodka shots you had and the smoke you inhaled, but also from the giddiness at being so close to Sukuna, the exhilaration of knowing how committed he is to you, how he let everyone know that you are his girlfriend.

He fucks you so good that you cry, tears slowly running down your cheeks, while Sukuna rolls his hips against yours slowly. Letting you feel every inch of his long, thick cock. A slow, steady rhythm that makes you clench around him, sobbing into his hot mouth anytime you feel his cock pushing slowly into you until his heavy balls are resting against your ass, letting you know that he is as close to you as possible.

It feels so intimate. Making love in Sukuna's dimly lit room while the faint noises of the party two floors above you drift to your ears. But here it's only Sukuna and you. And Sukuna doesn't wear his mask of arrogant aloofness. His gaze is open, full of burning love and desire. His lips open in breathless groans, followed by whispered sweet nothings.

It's deep and intense. As if Sukuna is showing you his love for you with every slow move of his tall, broad body on top of you. With every caress of his hard cock. With every heated kiss that brushes your naked skin. With every whispered word breathed against your lips.

You cling to Sukuna needily, caressing his broad back and his firm, full ass, moaning his name in between tender but nasty open-mouthed tongue kisses, and Sukuna groans those sexy low groans that give you butterflies, not just in your tummy but also in your pussy.

"Fuck, princess. I love you. I fucking love you."

Sukuna moans breathlessly against your lips, and you clench around his cock at his soft words, caressing his back, whispering against his lips,

"I love you, too, baby. Love you so much."

You feel Sukuna's hips stutter, feel his muscles tense under your fingers. He moans and stops moving, his lips only lightly brushing over yours, panting heavily, his forehead pressing against yours as he tries to hold back his orgasm.

Sukuna pushes himself up on his elbows, his thick cock slipping out of you, only letting his fat mushroom tip caress your swollen clit. Sukuna gazes at you, his tattooed cheeks flushed, maroon eyes full of need. His large hands land on your legs, calloused fingers running slowly over your thighs and calves, making you tremble under his tender touches.

Sukuna grabs your legs and lifts them, putting them over his broad shoulders. Heated, wet kisses land on both your ankles before Sukuna snaps his hips again and fucks his gorgeous cock back into you. You cry out his name, throwing your head back on his pillow, your mouth opening in a row of mewls. The switch of position makes things even more intense. You can feel Sukuna even deeper inside you with the way he's folding you in half, making the fluttery feeling in your pussy become so intense that you sob from it.

You hear Sukuna's sexy, breathless groans and feel his strong body on top of you, his buff muscles flexing with every deep thrust. His weight presses you down into the mattress, fucking you so deep that it makes you dizzy. But he takes things slow. Savoring your first time making love to the fullest.

He leans down so his face is so close to yours that you are breathing each other's breath, your eyes locked in a deep, intense gaze as you both get closer and closer to your peak with every thrust. Your eyelashes flutter as you feel your pussy growing tighter around Sukuna's cock, the butterflies in your tummy going crazy.

"Look at me, princess. Fuck... look at me."

You moan loudly, obeying Sukuna's wish, looking deeply into his eyes, sighing anytime his fat cockhead hits your sweet spot with the most delicious precision, making a firework of bliss explode inside you with every slow thrust. You mewl desperately, nails digging into Sukuna's skin, hips lifting needily to meet his slow thrusts. Just a bit more, just a little bit more, and you will drown in bliss!

You see the moment Sukuna reaches the point of no return. See it in his heavy-lidded maroon eyes when he can't hold back his orgasm anymore. And Sukuna cums deep inside your pussy, looking so sexy and beautiful with his eyes so soft and full of bliss, his mouth hanging open with the sexiest low moans falling from his lips as he ruts against you, fucking his whole orgasm into you.

You follow him only a moment later, squealing his name loudly, your whole body shaking, pussy so tight around Sukuna's fat cock that he is gasping from it.

"Fuck, princess. Yeah, cum for me, baby, just like that. Just like that. Fuck! Milk me dry."

You are lost in pleasure, moaning and mewling as he fucks you slowly through your orgasm. Sukuna's soft lips claim yours again, swallowing your mewls, kissing you sweet and deep as he rests his heavy weight fully on you, pressing you down into the sheets while he still rolls his hips slowly against you, letting you enjoy his cock until the last waves of your high have ebbed off. Giving you his all, just like you are giving him your all.

You sigh happily against Sukuna's lips, hugging him tightly to you, your fingers playing with the short stubble of his undercut before they run down his broad, muscular back and back up again, caressing him lovingly. And he kisses you slowly with those sexy, deep French kisses. Your breathing gradually slows down again, your bodies relaxing against each other, but neither of you makes a move to let go.

The sex scene made me blush so much AAAHH 😳😳 It's not just fucking anymore but lovemaking with deep eye contact!! I am so flustered 💗😵

I hope you enjoyed the new chapter! The scene at the party where Sukuna attacked that guy wasn't planned at first, but my dear Kuna told me that he wants to let everyone know we are his girl and that anyone who gives us shit will get into trouble with the Ice King himself lol. He is so funny uwu Thank you so much for reading! I am always so happy when I can share a new chapter with you and see your reactions! Comments and reblogs would be very sweet 💗 In the next chapter, we will have: Two dates with boyfie Sukuna (one which kind of fails, but in a funny way, and a real one). More ice hockey because Reader still has her job as Sukuna's lucky charm! And more bonding.

[captain-kit-adventuress]

Let me tell you some things about American plumbers probably almost none of you know, especially because I've seen people complaining that plumbers make "$42 an hour while I can't even make $15!"

[Note that much of this is state-specific, so ymmv, but most states have an interest in keeping it pretty similar to what I'm going to outline.]

First of all, you have to be licensed, and anything licensed takes forever and costs a fortune. You spend 7 years as an apprentice plumber, which means taking full-time classes on top of full-time work, for which you definitely do not get paid $42 an hour, and you're lucky if you get $20. You're on the hook for all of the tuition and books and whatever else, tools and whatnot, and we all know tuition and books are out of control, but have you seen what decent tools cost these days? This in addition to all of the regular school stuff like a computer, an internet connection, probably a mobile phone of some description, etc. Some you may have already and some you may not.

That's just the education part. Next, even after you've completed your 7 year apprenticeship under extremely strict and exacting standards, for which you get paid almost nothing and have tons of expenses just like any other student, you're still under some kind of supervision for another few years. So you've put in about 10 years into this already and you're nowhere near pulling in the kind of income that people say plumbers make.

But once you actually get into being licensed and bonded and the whole shebang, maybe you get a job with a company, because it's really hard to hang your own shingle, especially in the larger communities where nobody knows anybody else or the quality of their work. You'll work for a plumbing company like anyone else, and let me tell you, it's like any other company where profit matters most and it's for shareholders and not anyone else.

Now comes the part you probably have never heard about: many, many, many plumbers don't really have health insurance for most of their careers, and if they do, it's like the shittiest insurance possible and they have to pay for much of their healthcare out of pocket. Except that these are plumbers, they're constantly on hands and knees on hard, unyielding surfaces, bending, lifting...really physical, difficult work. How many of you actually know how much a toilet weighs? it's anywhere between 50-120 lbs depending on a variety of factors. All that, in addition to actually diagnosing whatever the problem is and knowing how to fix it. Do that for the next 20 years of your life and you're not going to have any knees left, you're going to have a bad back, probably most of your other joints are shot or on the fritz in some way, and this is if you were healthy to begin with and didn't have many health problems during your career. Depending on the collective bargaining agreement, sometimes the unions will cover your healthcare at close to 100% after that, but when it was easier to prevent a lot of it by having time off and the ability to afford care? None of that is covered.

Not only that, but most plumbers don't really get paid time off from work, either, depending on what the agreements are. I know it doesn't seem like plumbers ever work timely, but everyone thinks they have an emergency when the plumbing breaks, and you've got to triage the for-real emergencies alongside the "Timmy backed up the toilet again because he keeps flushing his toys and now there's water and poop and who knows what else everywhere." That's not including the emergency answering services where they're relaying that stuff 24/7/365.

How is that different from most of us today, you might wonder? Because they're literally knee-deep in your shit from morning 'til night. All of the weird stuff you do to screw up your toilets, your sinks, your showers, your fixtures, your pipes, they have to deal with all of it. All of the clogs, the gross hair masses, the half-eaten food from when the disposal stops working, the people who don't know not to flush things they shouldn't, the people who do know and don't care, the floods when the sump pump stops working or there's so much rain it just completely overwhelms it, the people who are sure they can "fix" it, the people who listened to youtube or tiktok and picked the wrong accounts for advice, and most of all, metric tonnes of your actual shit and vomit and whatever other bodily excretions you've got. That is all hazardous enough on its own, and if you think it's gross, I don't think plumbers feel any differently, but it is a part of their job and there's no getting around it. They are paid to deal with all of the stuff no one else wants to even think about. And after they've been exposed to your biohazards for 10 hours a day, they themselves have to pay for any care they need to make sure they don't die from it. You know how many people have dangerous mold in their bathrooms and don't know it? I bet a plumber can tell you.

Those are the conditions with unions trying to fight for them.

[As one more note, not everyone wants to leave home, and that's fine! Why does anyone assume there are no tradespeople in cities when that couldn't be further from the truth? Don't be arses about geography.]

tl;dr: plumbers don't make the money you think they do, they spend half their career earning next to nothing and then when they finally start catching up their bodies are so shot they can't enjoy it; in the middle they have to deal with everybody's grossness and basic repair illiteracy, and they pay for most of it themselves.

source: I was an external auditor for a lot of trade unions.

some of the worst classism is white collar middle class americans against blue collar & minimum wage workers. “why does that plumber make more than me” because he’s been perfecting his craft for 30 years and you send emails. “they’re in the trades bc they’re too dumb to do anything else” ok take that engine apart and put it back together real fast babe. “they’re boring bc they never left their home town” have you considered they financially couldn’t? I am not saying it is anyone’s job to educate, nor you need to respect people who do not respect you, but while you maybe never sympathize we need to learn to empathize. consider why (who) allowed for massive parts of country to be uneducated and how many impoverished areas of this country haven’t had a voice for a very long time. we are all victims of the rich. remember it is up vs down

[kastalani123]

Not my usual content, but I just. I wanna ramble, ig.

Do you understand how baffled I was about how the vampire book, written by a man in 1897, is essentially a PSA about how important proper communication is?? Even after I scrolled through Tumblr, saw the memes, read people geeking out about the relationships (platonic and romantic) in Dracula, I was still caught off guard, because. Like. Everything in this book is about communication.

Sure, it's kind of a given, considering it's an epistolary novel partially made up of letters between the characters, but. I dunno. From Dracula controlling Johnathan's lettres, van Hellsing refusing to tell anyone shit, the men keeping Mina out of the loop, to Mina using her telepathic link with Dracula, it's. It's literally all about how important actually talking to each other and sharing information is. Fuck, throw in the fact that "Harker", Mina and Jonathan's, arguably the main characters, last name means "to listen"/"eavesdropper", and that the book is Mina's in-universe creation to help compile, organize, and share what they know about Dracula, and the book's very essence becomes centered around information-sharing!

And I just. The narrative punishes just about every secret hidden, every time the characters don't communicate. There's the obvious, Dracula keeping Johnathan from sending out letters for help and Mina getting bitten because the men leave her home alone, but also. Van Hellsing not telling Lucy's mom that the garlic flowers and closed windows and so on are the treatment and she is not to touch them is what kills Lucy and her mom! They maybe could have survived if he just told them what's happening/what he's doing! And even the godsdamned telegram he sends to Seward! If he had just addressed it properly (communicated to the telegram boy properly!) then Seward wouldn't have been late and maybe could have prevented the massacre!

There's also Jonathan's diary right after he finally reunites with Mina, and obviously Mina's whole ✨ thing ✨ with the diary during their wedding is like. Peak romance, but Johnathan doesn't fully get better until Mina reads and shares it with van Hellsing and van Hellsing assures Johnathan that he's not insane. Sure, it's an oversimplification of PTSD and healing and such, but it makes sense, especially if you consider communication and information sharing as a major theme! Only sharing his experiences, reading through them himself after blocking off the memories, is what heals him! He cannot get better without knowing what happened, and without others knowing what happened, because knowing and sharing is important.

Renfield's also an interesting case. I don't have the book with me right now to check, but as far as I remember, he tries to talk about Dracula, tries to get Seward to release him from the asylum so Dracula can't use him against Mina, but is dismissed entirely; as a consequence, Dracula gets in the building, kills Renfield, and bites Mina.

Even the language barriers! The villagers Johnathan meets on his way to Dracula's castle try so hard to warn him of the danger but they can't. They can't, because they don't speak enough of the same language, but they try so hard. But whatever does get through to Johnathan, such as that woman begging him to take the crucifix she gives him — that might've saved him. It keeps him unsettled and wary and he does keep the crucifix, which wards Dracula off. They can't communicate the full extent of the danger, but what they managed is probably responsible for him surviving.

And the whole idea is even mentioned in-text! Sure, Lucy saying that a wife ought to share everything she knows with her husband is definitely sexism-flavoured, but Johnathan says it too! He says that his idea of an ideal marriage is one without secrets! And Johnathan is effeminate, yes, he spends a good chunk of the book as the "damsel in distress", but he is still the hero! He is still the one who kills Dracula (with Quincey), and can therefore be assumed to be an intended role model. The (male) main character and hero of an 1897 novel says that a good relationship relies on communication. Sure, he doesn't always stick to it, mostly by agreeing to keep Mina out of the loop when van Hellsing pushes for it, but that doesn't discount that that is what Stoker set as the ideal.

I just. I love this book so much. It subverted just about all expectations I might've had about it and I'm so glad for it. It's undeniably a product of its time, with plenty of racism and sexism and ableism, but it's also so. Not, at the same time? It's so good.

[setmeatopthepyre]

fuck it friday

tagged by @trombonechurchill and @ambernotember <3 have some antarct-fic! I shared an earlier version of the first part of this scene before (for the wip titles game), but here's an improved and extended version.

-

“He dated Abby,” Tommy admits with a groan.

Lucy stares at him. “Who?”

Tommy frowns. “Abby.”

“Yeah, Tommy, contrary to popular belief, you’re not exactly an open book," she deadpans. "Abby who?”

“Abby Clark,” he says. “My fiancée.”

“Your what? What the fuck?”

“Ex-fiancée,” he clarifies, not really able to hold back his glare in response to her surprise.

“I reiterate: what the fuck.” She folds her arms. “Explain.”

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “I was engaged. To Abby.”

“Yeah, you big lug, I got that part. Context. Explain.”

Tommy lets out a long exhale, turning his glass back and forth on the table, noting vaguely how the stem of the glass looks way too dainty in his big, coarse hands. He lets go, suddenly afraid of accidentally snapping the thing in two, and settles his hands in his lap.

“We were engaged for two years before I broke it off.”

He's expecting a quip, or an eye roll, but that's not what he gets and maybe that's not fair, either. He knows Lucy better than that. Knows she doesn't lie about what she thinks and that she's serious when she has to be. And she's serious, now. Her eyebrows drawn towards each other in a frown, head tilted slightly, dark eyes studying him over her own drink, waiting for him to continue.

So he does.

“When I say broke it off, I mean I told her I was gay and then I dumped her. Not necessarily in that order.” His throat feels rough, suddenly, so he downs the rest of his drink – avoiding the far-too-dainty stem – and sets the glass back down with a clink. “Then Abby, apparently, rebounded with...” he waves his hand.

“Buck?” Lucy hazards a guess.

Tommy nods. “He's the himbo,” he huffs, and Lucy mutters something that sounds suspiciously like and he's not the only one, but she doesn't repeat herself when he narrows his eyes at her and he... appreciates that. Lucy looks out for him.

“You look out for me,” he tells her.

“You're drunk.”

Lucy says it as if it's a counter argument. Normally he'd take some time to point out to her that it isn't, except that he can't forget they were talking about Evan, and wallowing over Evan takes precedence. Especially when Tommy's... Fine. Yes. Tommy's a little drunk.

“Hmm-hm.” He hums, twirls the stirrer around in his glass. Stupid, dainty glass. “He said their relationship was transformative.”

Lucy's eyebrows tick upwards. “Okay?”

“And then he said our relationship was transformative.”

Lucy's face does something complicated. It's subtle, because Lucy isn't usually particularly expressive, but Tommy knows Lucy and he knows she's trying really, really hard to school her features into something supportive and appropriately concerned. It's nice, that she cares enough to do that. Lucy is so nice to him. He should be nicer to her.

“So,” Lucy says, her voice doing something he thinks might be trying for polite curiosity. “How, uh. How does that make you feel?”

He snorts. “Jesus, Donato, you're bad at this.”

-

no pressure tags for @sugarpenchant @geddyqueer @beanarie @agentpeggycartering @screamlet @rcmclachlan @peppermintquartz

[cincodenada]

[ID: Two sapphics laying naked in a river kissing passionately. One is half-submerged on their back, head resting on a rock, knees up; the other laying on top of of the first, between their legs. The first person has their hands in the dark curly hair of the second. The folds of the second's belly rest on the first's raised thigh.] Heads up that this book is available to borrow for free on The Internet Archive, and the poem paired with this photo by two-spirit poet and activist Chrystos is also so lovely:

In the Wild River of Your Arms

where I'm carried to wet silk plunging I lean into your strong back which doesn't give in the sharp turns of touch Bears me through nightmares & changing faces lights racing a glitter of deep kisses in darkness I didn't know was my home until you held me & would not let go

In the wild river of your laughter nothing I do is crazy or too much or can't be understood with time No need for lies because you've no accusations Grinning you embrace all that I am even what I don't want of myself

In the wild river of your tongue I travel light years away from everyone who has lain with me claiming some corner of my spirit as their own

read meanings into me without my knowledge or consent made me afraid of my own desire ploughed me with confusion as they called arid sand a verdant bank tried to kill all that surges clear in me a wild river uncontained without a name

In the wild river of your cunt where I am first to shake you free & screaming wildly I swim against the tide of brutal discarded husband shame & rocks of regret for a woman who would not give you this water we drink as though the desert burns on every side I ride you lightly as a birch bark canoe in late spring melt catching your wrists in a seine of desire new & trembling as this wind breathing between us bringing song

In the wild river of your soul I've known you clear green & true your hands carry no deception no bribes My brother calls you a good old gal & loves your laugh I remember the child I was before my uncle sliced her into debris I see a long ribbon of our lives flashing with the hope of home I thought couldn't be

In the wild river of your eyes I wash up new alive with colors I open the deep pool of my tenderness

& float you down where our toes are dancing on rocks like crawdads waving hello with long feelers Light as a leaf boat skimming the lights my tongue is fishing for your pleasure sweet water sweet grass in the wild river of our arms

for Denise

Photograph by Vita C. Shapiro

source: The Wild Good: Lesbian Photographs & Writings on Love, edited by Beatrix Gates

[almostswagkid]

A lot of people think that Gregor will betray us and join Hermann (forced or not doesn't matter rn). Which is actually very likely to happen, but let me suggest you different theory:

Gregor won't side with anyone. What I mean is that when Hermann will try to make him join her, knowing that he can't really resist, he'll instead betray both her and Limbus, locking himself up somewhere

Why I think that might happen is because it's kinda what happened in the book. So, if we're following that idea he might as well not just lock himself up, but also he might try to get rid of himself

But, knowing project moon (six years in the fandom after all, they're almost like a relatives to me at this point) they can do literally everything that no one in a hundred years could predict

On the side note, i feel like I'm going full conspiracy theorist mode + the fucking fortune teller. Because quite a lot of things in Limbus I predicted while I was talking w my homies. I mean, I know it's just a coincidence and I just randomly pointed in the sky and somehow shot right, it's nonetheless funny to me idk

And that's what a lack of lore about your fav roach man does to a person lmao

[lesbianalanwake]

Severance S2E3..... I'm chewing through drywall:

-- Natalie referred to the Board as "it"..... it? it??

-- speaking of that: Natalie? are you good?? how literal is the concept of speaking for the Board? Natalie??

-- Milchick packing away the box of paintings (and it doesn't quite fit.... girl....), and Cobel driving away from Helena's invitation to speak to the Board (sleeping in her car.... where is she driving to)..... obsessed with them and everything they do, actually. enemy of my enemy please god ��

-- Devon and Gretchen meeting the innie version of someone they love, and seeing how innocent/lost/earnest that person is, how they echo the person they know but less closed off and worn down..... Devon's face when she said Mark's a good egg, and Gretchen's face when Dylan G said he would make her proud..... oh I'm chewing through drywall AND glass. (the stark contrast to the contempt that Helena's father shows towards Helly..... ough)

-- the unhinged conversations between Cobel and Helena..... careful flat affect and measured tone while simmering with cold rage. makes me wonder if it's a "raised by Lumon" thing, which makes me wonder about Miss Huang and her impassive mannerisms..... Miss Huang get behind me. Dylan worrying about her.... 😢

-- Dr. Asal Reghabi's first in-person appearance: beat a man to death with a bat. Dr. Asal Reghabi's second in-person appearance: unsevered Mark's brain. what WILL she do next. how long did she work for Lumon? going to make a tentative guess that it might have been for quite some time, because she's got those funky off-putting ways of saying things, but she emotes a bit more than, say, Cobel. so maybe more of a Milchick type

-- Lumon wanting to edit Ricken's book.... trying to absorb and rewrite every part of the narrative in order to control it. a dumb out of touch self-help book, but it meant something in an environment stripped of most anything else, just like Miss Casey's "wellness" sessions meant something to the goat people. scraps of some kind of meaning, and now getting twisted and taken away. I am actually sick in the head over it

-- we have GOT to get a copy of The Body Keeps The Score down there to them next

-- that has to be Helena because 1) we don't spend time with her that isn't driven by another character, and 2) Irving's instincts. and girl must have studied the security footage closely because she's got a lot of Helly's mannerisms.... but not all of them, and so much of what she does is stilted or subdued. even the register of her voice isn't quite right. studying Britt Lower's microexpressions and body language under a microscope like who ARE you

-- Reghabi talking about 5 brain waves while the macrodata files emphasize the number 4..... chewing thoughtfully on it..... the input survey also has 5 questions. is this anything

-- also pondering how Reghabi says the only way for Mark to get information in and out of the severed floor is through reintegration. locked down tight with code detectors, and an afterimage is too ephemeral, but information is encoded within the brain, and that can't be locked down so tightly despite every effort to control it.... you carry it with you.... the body keeps the score

[tech-luver]

Part 1 here

Ranking (some more of) the LL crew based on who would let you take a nap on them and how comfy that nap would be (Part 2):

Perceptor: 7/10 Good shoulders to sleep on and works in (and prefers) quiet environments like his lab and the main navigation area of the ship. Prepare for loud interruptions if Brainstorm feels like continuing his one-sided competition with the bot. Although, if Perceptor doesn't feel like entertaining him, he may use you as an excuse to shoo him away. Tolerates your presence and checks on you every now and then but nothing more. Would ramble to you about maths and science if you ask, which is great white noise for falling asleep, unless you're actually interested.

Chromedome: 6/10 Hm, ok, a little skinny but you could try his big ass shoulders? It would leave you pretty exposed… maybe we just go with the cradled like a baby option here. Allows it but you better not be giving Rewind any ideas, his arms are going to get so tired otherwise. Will speak in a hushed way but won't stop other people from speaking regularly, only if they get too loud. May tap or stroke along your spine absentmindedly. He found that keeping his servos active helps when he feels that pull to perform mneumosurgery, that repetitive motion is now just something he does whenever.

Rewind: 7/10 Actually not too bad, you have a chance with his shoulders unlike the other minibots but he would probably prefer holding you so there isn't a possibility of you sliding off. Moves around the ship a lot but prefers quieter spaces. Would ask if he can record you sleeping for "the preservation of historic cultural exchange between cybertronians and humans!" It is a genuine reason of his, but he doesn't mention the fact it's also cuz he thinks you're very cute dozing on him. It's a funny/sweet thought that there may be a recording of you sleeping on a minibot that exists thousands if not millions of years after you are gone.

Nautica: 4/10 I know she's sleek but I think it's doable to rest on her shoulders, might want to keep away from those propeller wings of hers but they don't seem to move much. Not excited about it, she cares about your well-being but it would feel like she's just babysitting you which isn't fun. Also, she wants to be up and at 'em with her science gang! But if the gang is chilling then, hey, she'll allow it, why not? Once they're off again she'll gently hand you over to another willing bot with a quick, whispered "Sorry!"

Velocity: 9/10 Again, sleek but doable, especially cuz she approaches your health with such a lovely intensity. If she can help the only human on-board feel a little more welcome whilst also benefitting their health, that's a double win in her book. Tell her if you need any sleep aids, she'd love to learn about how humans sleep and how to specifically aid you! Probably feels the most guilty out of all the medics about their lack of understanding on organic medicine so you asking to nap kinda helps her with that. Will try to be quiet but she is a doctor and won't ignore other patients.

Ravage: 0/10 lol no, he has disappeared before you can even ask. First of all, there's nowhere to sleep, laying on his back isn't an option cuz he won't sacrifice his movement for some human and you can't be held by him (no, not even in his jaw, getting dragged around like a sack of potatoes is not relaxing). Second of all, there's some prejudice against organics he needs to work on and even after all that, he isn't a cuddly kitty. So go on, keep pestering him, if you're persistent enough you might earn some cool new scars!

First Aid: 7/10 He'll let it happen, not too fussed. Definitely watches you as you sleep but it's for research, he swears! Very interested in how the human sleep cycle is different and/or similar to cybertronian recharge so don't be surprised if you wake up and the glow of his giant visor is the first thing you see. He is another medic, which means another fairly loud environment of bots being put back together. First Aid is quiet by himself but any noise caused by patients or fellow doctors he's going to assume you're fine with, why would you sleep on a medic if you weren't?

Riptide: 5/10 I spent a little too long staring at this guys shoulder plating and its still a maybe on if you could stay in one place. His back fin things would be great to sit against! However, if you can only nap laying down then there would be some difficulty. He would let you up without an issue, just helping a little guy have a little recharge, but he would 100% forget you are up there. Prepare to go flying. Or maybe just tie yourself to one of his plates. Other people would have to point out that you're on his shoulder when he gets that feeling of "Wait, I'm meant to be doing something for the human…"

Skids: 8/10 Chill about it, happy to be a napping perch even if he is quite an active bot. Really curious on how humans recharge but also mindful of the fact you just want some rest so you might catch him staring and hurriedly looking away a few times. If you nap on him enough, he knows exactly when you fall asleep and when you wake up, it would be kind of freaky if he wasn't so accommodating and quick to put a blanket over you or hand you some water. Tried to crawl in the vents with you napping once, went well for a while until you almost slipped off and cracked your head open, he never tells you this happened.

Ambulon: 4/10 He really hems and haws over this when you ask, he's uncomfortable with the idea but he knows Autobots are meant to love organics or whatever, especially humans. Eventually allows it but he picks you up with the tips of his fingers (trying to ignore the weird sensation) and angles his head as far away from you as is socially acceptable. Keeps an eye on you but its less out of concern for your well-being and more so he can see if you start picking at his paint or chewing his neck cables. He treats you like a feral creature but eventually loosens up when you don't do anything but…lay there sleeping.

Ok, I see why I picked the bots I did for the first part cuz after them, people start to have very complicated shoulders. (Also, I only finished reading mtmte like two months ago but I feel I'm already writing these guys out of character wth)

[ghostlymakercat]

| 3 ships I like

Ohhh boy look I'm a marauders fan soooo... But starchaser, Neil and Perry... I mean the way they look at each other the way they are the definition of perfect tragedy???? People saying they're platonic need to get their glasses cleaned anddd I mean how can I not being here the ancient one so patrochilles/ Gilgamesh and Enkidu bc really people the illiad in the means of the relationship between the main hero are practically just epics of Gilgamesh but Gilgamesh is more or together about it

| first ship ever

Offff starting off strong I actually remember this, I haven't gotten my phone till I was twelve so when I did as a reader discovered ✨ WATTPAD✨ I thought I was in heaven, well I read a few basic books and then I came across something I didn't usually read, something sporty... It was a sports anime fanfic, haikyuu fanfic with the main ship being kagehina but not only that I just never realized two boys could be together and I remember rereading the moment they kiss to make sure I didn't miss anything, so yeah kagehina is first

| Last song I heard

Heroes by my favourite gender icon David Bowie

| Favourite childhood book

Pippi Langstrumpf - I grew up in Norway I have no idea how this is called in English or maybe the little prince

| currently reading

It doesn't have an English translation but I can translate it -the meeting or the story of a suicidal and a story teller- its about a boy that has parents that see a clear path for him go to school, be a doctor make money, find a wife, make a kid, settle... But he didn't want that. Looking at blood disgusts him and he get nauseous and so in a for of rage tries to off himself by jumping from a bridge, but an old man is enjoying his book and tea nearby and forces the kid to listen to what he has to say

| currently watching

Ehhhh I'm not really a watching person but I'm hoping to soon get to stand by me so my friend can get off my back

| currently consuming

That kinda melancholic feeling when you wake up and try to get a hold of your dreams but can't, despite all your efforts

|currently craving

Touch, any pressure any warmth from anybody at all, I'm willing to pay

Thank you this has been fun! Thanks for the tag love @wisegirl42 @moonyswarmsweaters @my-castles-crumbling and anyone really

9 10 Fandom Folks to Get to Know Better

Thanks so much for the tag @schofielded !!

3 Ships I Like

Okay so I’m currently writing for Anderperry so they have to be at the top of the list, Reddie is my beloved which I fear will follow me throughout my life so they’re next, and hmm idk what to put for my third one since I like to read for a lot of ships and have barely written for others. I think I’ll go with a surprise pick and say Boreo! Tragic gays for the win

First Ship Ever

Omg I actually cannot say it was too embarrassing. The first one I’m willing to say is Larry which is also embarrassing and I regret it but I fear the fanfic was so good sorry.

Last Song I Heard

Drums of Death by FKA Twigs. I am addicted, something about the beat is just so good.

Favorite Childhood Book

This is kind of hard for me because I mainly had author phases as a kid rather than just one book that I adored. Looking back, though, I would probably say The Tale of Despereaux by Kate DiCamillo was my favorite. Her descriptions were so good that it made me want to eat paper like the mice.

Currently Reading

Four Minutes by Nataliya Deleva! It’s a queer Bulgarian novel I’m reading for my around the world goal and I’m really enjoying it so far!

Currently Watching

Just finished watching Swing Girls (2004) so I’m counting it since I’m between TV shows right now. Anyway the movie was so cute and feel-good, I definitely recommend!!

Currently Consuming

I had fried chicken for dinner if that’s what this is referring to. Anyway it was good!

Currently Craving

A strawberry limeade with added coconut and cream from Sonic 💔 I don’t have my car rn so I am stranded sadly

No pressure tags: @neil-perrys-suicidal-tendencies @vinesandvellichor @good--merits-accumulated @lc-27 @axe-76 @dreadedwhim @poetrusic1959 @yawping-poets-society @scriptscraps @neilperryismine + open to anyone who wants to join!!

[oh-no-its-bird]

Gonna ramble a bit here, sorry in advance for that

With the rise in worry about the permanence of online media (books / music / video content / art / online chat history / etc.) I've been thinking about wanting to print out some of my favorite fics, or catologue some of my longer (months and years long tbh) conversations about ocs. Or maybe try and learn how to burn cds so I can save my music and favorite shows / videos n stuff

Mm,, download a show online and burn it into a cd so I never have to look for it again,, easily accessible physical copy,, I love pirating things

Obviously, with printing out fics I'd want to ask for explicit permission from the author and then keep the printed volume to myself. Gotta be careful to be respectful ab that sort of thing.

I'd also be interested in printing out some of my own shit too, just for fun. Those old conversations about ocs won't last forever, discord will eventually fail and when it does I know I for one will be crushed to lose all that chat history.

Obviously, I'm an American, and like the current political state in America is uhhh. Deeply worrying for all of us over here. So I won't lie, that's also adding a layer of worry from that angle. Things are already looking ugly, and if they get uglier, you know, I for one don't want my information to be completley ripped away from me

Turning back to the fic thing again, there's also a good amount of American fic writers who have / are planning to / are thinking about taking down some of their fics, due to fear of potential laws that threaten to make pornography illegal, and alao laws that classify anything homosexual as pornography.

Now, to be clear, I don't think they'll really do this. I think that even if they try, there're literally no fucking way it would pass. The backlash alone would be insane. But that doesn't change the fact that people are scared— that people got scared, and some have already taken things down

So there's another layer of just, shit man, I don't wanna lose my fics. There's always a risk that even if you download it, you could one day lose it too.

Also printed and bound fics are just cool as hell. What do you mean I have a copy of my very favorite fics, right there on my shelf in physical form, which I can open any time to any page I want without fear of ao3 one day crashing?

The ideal world tbh

Besides that, there's also a sort of time capsule aspect to it.

The other day, my dad whipped out his old tape recordings he made when he was a kid, just of him rambling about shit to mail to a cousin. He put them in to a record player he apparently just had, and I lost my fucking mind seeing it.

Both of my parents were laughing at how excited I was to see both the tapes and the boom box— and to listen to my dad's tinny, muffled voice sounding just like the vintage tapes might be portrayed on TV. Faint static and old timey tv lilt in his voice and all.

To them, it was just a small, slightly nostalgic thing. To me, it was cool as hell and totally retro

The things I save today, that I print, that I burn into cds; Stories I'm scared might get deleted, conversations I dont want to lose, tv shows I could never afford to maintain a subscription to see, playlists of music I worried I'd lose; They may someday be some day be a real relic of the past, however many years in the future. If not for other people, than yeah, for me

So just, I dunno. It's important to save things in a way that they can't be taken away from you.

It's supposed to be the "age of information," isn't it? Well then, let me keep my goddamn information

[a-not-so-clean-blog]

Nu carnival markings ♦️

Yakumo

You'll have to ask a few times before you'll do anything. The only stipulation is no biting. He's so afraid his teeth will be too sharp. That he'll hurt you. That you'll hate him for it. So he leaves soft hisses until you give him those big puppy eyes he's weak to. Then he'll give you hickeys. Tiny ones that last maybe 3 days, and peppers them all over. He makes them easy to hide if you want, but he blushes every time he sees one.

Edmond

You have to BEG him to mark you. Eventually he will give in. You don't even have to be in the bedroom when your nagging finally makes him snap. He grabs your forearm tight, and brings your wrists up. Chomping down to leave a mean looking mark right on your pulse point. He sounds angry, scolding you for harassing a knight on duty, but you can see the slight pink on his ears as he suppresses a blush.

Olivine

Any marks he leaves on you are completely accidental. Mostly bruises from his fingertips. He's so strong that sometimes in the heat of the moment he can't help but grab a little too hard. If he sees the marks while you're still fucking he'll mumble dumbly about how beautiful they look on you. His voice reverent. Though if he notices them after, his post nut clarity will make him feel so guilty. He will kiss each one to make them feel better.

Quincy

He doesn't usually let himself get carried away enough to mark you. However, on the rare occasion that he does, you're going to have a massive bite mark on your throat. Not the meaty parts. I mean throat. One set of teeth on either jugular, with your windpipe in between. He loves it. You look so good bearing his mark. Like it fulfills something so primal and pure inside him. He'll leave bites in other places too. Convenient places where he doesn't get a chance to think before chomping down. Your shoulder, maybe your leg as it's hooked over his shoulder, your hand that was resting on his shoulder a moment ago…

Kuya

He will be that jerk who leaves a hickey right under your jawline. Super visible and impossible to hide. He does it to annoy you mostly. Now, if somehow he gives in to that urge to mark an actual claim on you, you won't notice him bite the base of your nape, but you'll feel it every time you move your head. A constant reminder, subtle as it is. He'll deny it means anything. Unfortunately the only ones who will know what it really means are Quincy and Karu, so he's a little cautious when they come around. Not that you notice the slight edge he gets because he hides it so well. He can't have you knowing just how much you mean to him.

Blade

He read in a book that people bite the crux of the neck and shoulder. So he does. Not hard, but with shark teeth like his it really doesn't take much to leave a deep mark. He likes watching hickeys turn colors on your skin. Says it's so pretty! And that the sounds you make are so cute! Of course he thinks it's cute. This is still Blade we're talking about.

Garu

Scratches all down your back. His teeth ache to sink into you, but he's so scared to hurt you. Instead leaving thin red marks like rivers on the landscape of your back. Maybe some on your chest. Or really anywhere that he grabs for purchase.

Karu

Anywhere he can. Seriously. It's part of his wolf nature to want to mark and claim his mate. Lots of bites of varying depth and location. Some are even hard enough to draw blood. He'll lick the wounds clean later, or at least Garu will. He's so proud when you walk around with his bites visible, and gets mad when you try to cover them up. Seriously, don't try to cover all of them unless you want him jealous and giving you more in spots you can't hide.

Dante

He won't leave any marks on you until he is smitten, but of course he will never admit it. So one day when he's sucking your fingers so he can watch you prep yourself, he just gives a little nibble. Okay, maybe not little. Hard enough to leave a deep imprint of his teeth around the base of your ring finger. He claims it means nothing, but every time he looks at it his stomach twists with the words he wishes he could say.

Rei

He doesn't really have a preference where he marks you. So for a while he'll mark multiple spots. See where you like it best. Eventually he does enjoy it. The way it makes you gasp and squirm. The way your fingers ghost over the marks for days after. Who would have thought something so small could get so many interesting reactions.

Eiden

Can't go wrong with a classic hickey on the collar bone! He's respectful enough to ask before leaving anything in a visible location, but once he gets permission he gets that fucking smirk on his face. He's so teasing with it. Licking and asking if this is where you want the next one. Going so agonizingly slow. Afterwards he massages the areas so it doesn't hurt as much. He likes the action of marking rather than the marks themselves.

Aster

Bites on the neck? I mean, yeah. That kinda comes with the territory of being a vampire. He's less territorial than some of the others, and says he doesn't care if you cover up his marks. While it's true he may not be as possessive as say Dante, Kuya, or Karu, he still gets fussy when you intentionally cover his bites. Makes him feel like you're rejecting him in an intimate way that he doesn't really understand or want to confront.

Morvay

He LOVES leaving hickeys on your upper inner thighs, and your lower stomach. Framing his favorite part of your body. He likes being the only one to see all the marks, but he also loves when your shirt rides up and he, and others, just get a tiny peek at the marks he left on you.

[snazzynacho]

— Emperor of Time

Chapter 2/?: Diana

Emperor Geta x female oc

Chapter 1 Read on ao3. Masterlist. Words: 2.8k

A/N: btw I am trying to keep fmc’s appearance as vague as possible so you can imagine her as whoever, even yourself. Words in bold mean they are in Latin.

Geta stirs from his sleep, draped in the softest blanket he has ever felt in his life and a soothing cold flannel on his forehead. What a comfort to wake up to after that awful dream...He reminds himself to thank his servants once he's fully awake. It is not protocol but after that fright, he does not care.

His eyes are still closed, basking in the nicety of the blanket, but his nose twitches at something. A sweet aroma.

He groans sleepily, turning over on his side slightly. That’s when he’s met with a wet tongue licking his nose. He snaps his eyes open, blinking away the blurry remnants of slumber. He is ready to scream at her and bellow all sorts of derogatory terms at her for…licking his nose!?

But then his eyes are met with huge round black ones, set above a cute button nose. The adorable sight finishes with floppy orange ears. It is a dog. Geta’s anger slowly diminishes, as the dog continues to stare at him, sniffing his scent. Geta resists the urge to pet it.

As Geta’s eyes wonder around the room, a sinking feeling settles in the pit of his stomach.

The unfamiliar furniture and interior design hits him. That was no dream…that was real life…

Geta proceeds to sit up, just as the woman is walking back over to him. He eyes her suspiciously. In her hands is a cup of sorts, similar to the shape of a goblet, only smaller with a handle on the side. It's filled with a warm light brown liquid. That must be the cause of the sweet smell. He watches the steam flutter away in the air.

She shoos the dog away gently, slightly agitated at it, and motions for Geta to take the cup…but he's sceptical. What if it is poisoned? He has no way of knowing until it is too late.

Sensing his distrust, she sighs and gulps a bit of the drink. At the sight of her foreign mouth on his cup, his nose scrunches up in disgust. She says something, out of annoyance, and shoves the cup in his hand. He tuts out of irritation. It’s hot and he feels the heat tingle his fingers as it burns his hand. He quickly moves his hand to hold the handle instead.

She sits in the chair across from the plump lounge seat he is on, eyeing him. The tawny dog happily perches by her feet. Geta ignores her stare as he sniffs the drink, before taking the tiniest sip.

Bleh.

He does not like that.

His face sours as he places the cup down on the low table in between them, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He wants to spit out the liquid but stops himself. Instead, he swallows the liquid and swallows down more saliva to try to rid the awful taste.

He can't help but glare at her. Her mouth opens and more grating noise comes out of it. Has she not realised from his shouting earlier that he clearly doesn't speak her language?

“Imbecile,” He counteracts, muttering under his breath bitterly. His eyes glance around the room again. Eyeing objects which feel alien to him. From where he’s sitting there’s perfect view of a flat black box standing on a chest of sorts. There’s also a dining area, but not in a separate room like usual. It’s just a table and chairs, out in the open, in the living room. Peasant style, he thinks. “What is this place?” He asks.

She suddenly jumps up and he grimaces at her…happiness? She races past him, to a different room—the dog perks up and runs with her—and runs back with something in her hands. It's a book with a picture of a set of three blocks of colours, in order of green, white and red. She sits back down in font of Geta and clears her throat, eyeing him with a slight smugness. The dog lies by her feet again. She flips through the pages, landing on one, and begins to say a word.

A word he does not know.

Her eyebrows shoot up, expectantly. As if he should know what to say next.

Geta looks at her, confused, and becomes more irate by the second, as his voice raises. “You will answer to your Emperor. Where am I? Where have you taken me?”

She looks shocked at his anger, staring back at him like he’s a monster. Geta knows that looks well. She furrows her brows, propping the book on her legs, and grabs the rectangular device from earlier. She holds it up right in her hands, the bottom resting on her pinkie-fingers. Light emits from the device, brightening her face. He details her features. The light reflects on the glass circles in front of her eyes. He suppresses a giggle until his anger comes flooding back. “Where is my brother?”

She glances up at him while her thumbs tap on the device faster. His brows furrow in thought. What is she doing?

A few seconds later, an autonomous voice sounds from the device. He grips his robes in horror. “What is your name?”

It's a voice speaking his language. His heart beats hard in his chest. Is this a god speaking to him?

He takes a deep breath, wanting to make sure he has a steady voice for the god. “Publius Septimius Geta,” he utters but his voice wavers slightly. Damn, nerves.

She blinks at him. He cannot read her expression. Though, since she speaks a different language he assumes her foreign intellect does not know where to begin with how to repeat his name. Ha. He finds this amusing yet does not let it show. He keeps his face stone-cold, waiting for a reply.

Her thumbs resume tapping on the device, the quiet noises of her soft thumb pads tapping oddly calm him down.

The voice from the device speak again. “My name is Diana,”

She smiles at him for the first time. Three things flutter in his stomach. One is that the voice emitting miraculously from the device sounds like it belongs to a male’s voice, and by appearance and from the words she has spoken in her foreign language, Geta gathers the woman is…well, a woman. So, the voice from the device is not her own and would not be named a feminine name like Diana. The voice must be speaking for her. This leads him to a second realisation seizing him—why on earth is this woman named Diana—after the goddess of hunting and wild animals? It perplexes him greatly. It casts a shame on the goddess. This Diana cannot even fight him with a broom! A broom, for god’s sake!

Thirdly, Diana is a Roman name. Besides the shame it brings to the real Diana, the great goddess, the familiarity of it makes his heart lurch. Does this mean that his home is close? He worries about Rome and Caracalla. His brother must be frightened out of his fragile mind.

She leans over. He instinctively cranes his neck back. Did he permit her from moving closer to him? He looks down, seeing her arm outstretched, holding the device out for him. She wants him to take it. Geta clears his throat, he is not going to be scared of a silly device the size of his hand. His hand goes to grab it. He stares at it for a moment, not knowing what to do. There seems to be glass on it like a mirror but instead of his reflection staring back at him, it is lit up, showing three boxes—the two on top of each other are blank but the one of the bottom is filled with three rows of letters he recognises. He then remembers that all she was doing was tapping her finger on it. It can't be that hard.

He gathers that she must have been selecting each letter with her thumbs to form words that the device spoke aloud for her. He is extremely taken aback by the extraordinary device. He has never seen anything like it. He relates it to a wax tablet, except smaller, yet more powerful. It is a work of sorcery, and he questions whether it is safe. But, he believes this voice in the device is akin to a household god to her, and he must treat this device with respect. And if that means using it as she wants him to, then he shall oblige.

He warily points his index finger. He’s hesitant to touch it at first, glancing up at her for some sort of approval, even though he emperor and will do as he pleases.

She gives a nod, the corners of her mouth curling upwards slightly. He stares back at the device. The light bothers him, unaccustomed to a device so bright with white light. With the dream, or whatever it was earlier, with the mysterious glowing lady who sent him here still fresh in his mind, this white light reminds him of the blinding light he experienced. Uninvited, a shiver runs down his spine and his stomach churns a bit. He blinks, willing the fear that still lingers away.

His index finger touches one of the letters. It magically appears in the box at the top. He doesn’t realise he is grinning in awe. He continues to spell out what he wants to communicate.

“Where am I?” It speaks aloud when he is finished. He then passes the device back to her.

“My flat,”

He rolls his eyes. Can she be any more vague? “Am I in Rome?” He makes the communicatory-device-god ask.

At the question, she looks completely confused. “I wish,” it answers for her and she laughs.

Geta is not amused.

She realises her joke did not land, and makes the device reply again. “Britannia,”

His eyes widen. It cannot be. Britannia looks nothing like…like this!? His breath quickens, his anger returning. She must be playing a trick on him.

“Are you okay?” comes in another reply from her. Her question tips him over the edge.

He grabs the device from her, angrily tapping the letters. “Are you jesting with me? Because I assure you, I, your emperor, will not hesitate to use force.” his nostrils flare in vexation.

The colour drains from her face. Even in this uncertain environment, he still has what it takes to be intimidating. He feels smug, eyeing her with a smirk.

“Emperor?” she places the device on the table instead of handing it to him this time.

“Do I look like a Plebeian?!”

She winces and seems to shrug her shoulders. Geta’s eyes bore into hers. He snatches the device and he is about to start tapping at it again vehemently when the unexpected happens.

In a blink of an eye, the lit-up picture on the device changes, displaying a word he does not know and two circles at the bottom—one green circle and one red. Not only that, but the device starts to quiver in his grip—making his hand feel like a buzzing nest of angry bees—and emits a loud obnoxious sound of…ducks quacking?! Geta jumps out of skin at the shock of it all. The device practically flies in the air, out of his hand. He's about ready to go insane. This day is beyond bizarre.

Geta puts a hand to his beating heart, holding onto his robe. This sorcery… He eyes his other hand, the one that was holding the quivering device which made it feel like it was fist-deep in a furious bee nest. His hand seems to be unharmed, only a slight tingle lingers. He clenches it into a fist, alleviating the strange prickling.

She shoots up from her seat—the dog moving with her as if they are attached at the hip—and bends down to retrieve the device off the floor. When she stands back up, her face is very displeased. Her small gasp grabs Geta’s attention as she stares at the device. She quickly taps the screen and holds the device to her ear. The quacking stops.

He watches in curiosity. She wanders off, talking, but not to Geta. There is no one in front of her. Geta’s hearing just about picks up a muffled voice produced from the device, talking back to her. She must be conversing with the communicatory device god.

Geta sits tight, watching as she so easily speaks to a god. How is she able to get into verbal contact with a god? It is not like she is the real goddess, Diana! Look at her! He is an emperor, why has he never been contacted by a god?—verbally, for that matter.

Slouching back, he crosses his arms together. He gazes away arrogantly, his nose in the air, trying to convey an unbothered attitude to the whole debacle—but he can't help getting re-invested when she becomes increasingly agitated, pacing the length of the room. She pulls the device away from her ear with a stiff sigh, raking a hand through her hair.

She looks over at him, uncertainty written in her eyes. She comes back over to him, holding her device in her hand. It is not lit-up anymore, but there’s a huge crack, a bit like when Caracalla smashed his mirror. Geta’s body fills with dread—has he killed the communicatory god?! Was that his final farewell to her?! Geta reaches his finger to feel along the crack, detailing the tiny crystals of glass, but she shoves it in her pocket before he can, muttering something laced with resentment.

She then begins rushing around, pulling her shoes on and picking up a black odd-shaped case. She then removes something from the wall and turns to him, holding some sort of circular dial with symbols all around it and two thin black arrows. One is shorter staying pointed at the “3” shaped symbol on the top right. The other is longer and ticks, moving by the second.

He stares at it for a moment, mesmerised by the ticking sound and the moving arrow.

He presumes it is a timepiece—but it is unlike one he has seen before. He knows of sundials and even the klepsydra and obelisk, which rely on the sun or water, but this piece of technology seems to calculate the time on its own. He has no idea how, yet. He also notes it is using a different numbering system instead of the Roman Numerals he is familiar with. Another work of sorcery… He worries if she is trying to cast a spell on him or hypnotise him, the ticking and ever-moving arrow pulling him into a trance. That is, until her finger appears on the dial, pointing to another symbol, snapping him out of his daze.

Her finger taps the “3” symbol where the smaller arrow is and then her finger points down to the ground—as if signalling that is the time now—and then points to the door to her home. Geta gathers she's trying to tell him that is the time now and she must leave. He nods his head. She then points to the “6” symbol several times. That must be when she will be back. He nods again. She hands him the timepiece, holding it in his hands. Before she leaves, she offers him a smile.

Now he is left with…a dog. Whatever it’s name is, he does not care, right now.

He sighs, a long irate sigh. He has never been fond of…pets. Caracalla has a pet monkey for God’s sake. Geta has always found it ridiculous, but even now, he cannot deny the truth—that monkey, though it annoys Geta,—does wonders in calming Caracalla down.

He hopes the monkey can do so now, with Geta himself being…gone…Lost? Dead? Reborn? Geta is still unsure.

A/N: Geta being confused by her glasses this entire fanfic and thinking her phone is a god are my favourite jokes so far. 😭 btw this is what the iPhone duck quacking ringtone sounds like.

Oh, and the way he would pronounce Diana in Latin is so hot (Latin is so hot idc). Basically, it's like “Dee-ah-nuh”.

I also have dyscalculia so I don't know why I made myself explain how a clock works in a Roman’s mind. Ffs😭. I hope it makes sense.

Taglist for this fanfic (comment if you want to be added/removed): @minamoomoo @silpiisoverrated @gorbo-longstocking @cokepowder55

[gabbytvclarke]

The dog and the postwoman PART FOUR: Strawberries and Syrup

Part one here! ♥ Part two here! ♥ Part three here!

• Summary: Arthur invites the reader back to his flat for the night while his flatmates are out... • Pairing: Arthur TV x female!reader (Also friend!George Clarke and friend!Arthur Hill) • Fluff, and slow burn SMUT • Warnings: alcohol, swearing, innuendoes, and (sober!!!) sex • Word count: 6,326 words • Note: Reader is on the pill • Note 2: I'm sorry for the middle pic

♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥

“My… my roommates are out of town too, so it would be just us.” He shyly adds, peering down at her with darkened eyes. Interesting.

She cocks her head, a mischievous smile tugs at her lips. "Arthur, what are you implying?" She jabs.

"Oh, um, it doesn't have to mean anything if you don't want it to..." Arthur replies sheepishly, sweat forming at the back of his neck.

"I'm kidding Arthur," she giggles, shaking her head at him, "I'm excited for some y/nTV, regardless of what we do."

"Oh." Arthur lets out the breath he was holding, his fingers still intertwined with hers as they continue walking to his.

"You do have a spare toothbrush and a shower in your hobbit hut, right?" She jokes.

———

"Sorry about the mess." Arthur mumbles as he closes the door behind her. She looks around his home and it's completely... spotless. She gently kicks off her shoes and tries to give Arthur his hoodie back, but he shakes his head and holds up his hand to stop her. "You can borrow that, looks good on you." He says with a warm smile. She giggles out a thank you and folds it on top of her shoes.

"You want another glass of water?" Arthur asks, it then dawns on him that he's never hung out with y/n alone before, outside of a discord call and digital cubic houses anyway. Luckily, he's too drunk for his nerves to completely engulf him.

"Yes please," y/n replies as she makes her way to the lounge area. She tests out which seat is the comfiest and figures it's the larger sofa. Arthur enters with two glasses of water. "Let me know if you want to order food too, I think a few places are still open." He offers kindly.

"Maybe later, I'd like a tour of your home first." She states with a smile. Arthur leads her around the flat. It's a nice place, and y/n can tell he lives with two other women, who she kind of knows through social media. His bedroom is her favourite. It's the perfect mixture of geeky, cozy, and neat. Not as many books as his video backdrop would suggest however.

Arthur stands beside his bed, suddenly feeling heated at the idea of messing up his neat sheets with y/n, but he remains stoic. "Oh!" He lets out, reaching into his drawers and grabbing one of his baggy T shirts and passing it to y/n. "You can change into something comfier if you'd like. I can wait in the lounge." He chirps as he also grabs her some spare pyjama bottoms and socks.

"Thank you Arth." She beams at him as he scurries out the room. She giggles to herself at his wholesomeness; inviting a girl back to his place and then letting her get dressed in privacy. That's Arthur.

He scrolls through Youtube on his TV, looking for something to watch. A more sober Arthur would've cleared his watch history so his homepage isn't flooded with recommendations for y/n's videos. When she enters the room, Arthur can't help himself.

"Y/n, you look adorable!" He calls out to her, smiling from ear to ear. His clothes fit her in such a flattering way. She looks so snug. Plopping down right next to him, she takes a couple sips of water and looks at his huge TV screen with wide eyes. He wonders if she'll make a jab about his video recommendations. "Oh god, I'll watch anything but my own videos!" is all she has to say while laughing. He adores her humbleness as it shimmers once again.

They settle on a video about ghost sightings. Arthur excuses himself to grab a blanket, returning in loungewear as he turns the lights down to add to the ambiance. He looks incredible, his hair extra messing from changing, a baggy black tee and some grey joggers. Does he know what he's doing? He sits next to y/n and instinctively puts an arm around her. The video seems a little lame at first, but the jump scares get the pair really spooked. "That really got you didn't it?" Arthur teases, his voice low and his breath fanning her face. He pulls her even closer to him, "C'mere, I've got you."

It feels right, comfortable. They lean against each other, not uttering a word as they continue watching. Arthur's hand rests on y/n's thigh, just above her knee. Her heartbeat was already rapid before, but it races even further. Arthur starts talking her ear off about his view on ghosts, which she listens to contently, the audio from the TV fading from her focus.

"Oh, the video's finished." Arthur realises midway through a sentence. Ironically, the ChrisMD video they both had starred in is queued up on the autoplay list and they let it load.

"Hm, let's see what the most replayed moments are, shall we?" Arthur says with a smirk, scrolling along and pausing at the spikes. Every moment is when they were both on screen, except for one; when Chip fell over. It's as if Arthur already knew, y/n did not. She sits next to him dumbfounded, her mouth open but curved up at the corners. "If you think that's crazy, now let's read some more comments" Arthur giggles.

"No Arthur, I can't..." Y/n groans as she hides her face in her hands. With one hand pointing the remote at the TV, he scrolls down to the comments so they're in big bold letters. With his spare hand, he pulls y/n's hands away from her shy smile. "Look, look: 'Arthur and y/n keep exchanging glances'!" He reads with a smirk.

"Stop it Arthur!" She chortles, her face burning as she covers her eyes.

But he doesn't: "'O-M-G get y/n and Arthur on more stuff together'"

"Arthur!" She leans over and tries to take the remote. Despite her best efforts, he pulls it further away from her reach, holding it behind him. "Oh this one's great: 'Look at at that eye contact, the tension is crazy'!" His giggles continue as his pitch and volume increase.

Tears are nearly forming in her eyes from laughing so much, she starts trying to climb over Arthur as he falls onto his back on the sofa. She crawls halfway over him and grabs hold of the remote, pinning his hand above his head. Their laughter dies down fast when they realise how intimately close they are; Arthur laying on his back with his legs apart, y/n with one knee resting in between his legs and the other to the right of his body; their faces mere inches from each other.

They exchange a look of intrigue and desire. One of them needs to say something, or do something. Arthur's free hand reaches up to hold her waist. Y/n looks to his lips then straight back into his eyes. "They're right about that tension." She jokes quietly, though her face serious as her eyes darken, watching his pupils dilate.

"Yeah." Arthur whispers, barely audible. His near black eyes focus on her lips. Illuminated by the red glow from the TV, they both slowly lean in until they meet halfway. Their kisses start as small pecks but become something more desperate. He lets out a sigh that fans her face and she smells the Southern Comfort on his breath.

She pulls away. "Arthur... wait." He stops immediately, his hand dropping as he looks intensely up at her, anxiety creeping across his face.

"Is everything OK?" He pants.

"Everything is more than OK," she whispers, equally breathless, "I really want this, but we're drunk. You especially."

Arthur nods slowly. She moves back to sitting next to him hesitantly and intrusively worries that he'll want her to leave, or lose interest in her.

"I'm definitely more sober than you and I really don't want to take advantage," she continues, she gazes into his eyes with genuine care, "can we put a pin in this for now?"

She awaits a response from Arthur, he slowly sits up too.

"You are completely right." He chuckles shyly, adjusting his T shirt over his jogging bottoms. "I guess I got a little carried away there, sorry."

"Do not apologise at all Arthur," she puts her hand on his knee shooting him a genuine smile, "are you... annoyed?"

"Not at all." He puts his arm around her. "Now where were we?" He points the remote back at the TV with a smirk.

"No Arthur!" She giggles. He chuckles as he exits out of the video, handing her the remote.

"You can pick [nickname]. What do you want to do, aside from me that is." He asks with a playful sneer, they both burst into laughter. She's amazed at how unbothered he is, how he can make her feel so wanted and yet can turn it off if she needs it to stop. Ironically, it makes her want him even more, but she needs to hold her ground.

They settle on a documentary about space, one that Isaac had recommended to Arthur before, and they sit in blissful silence as they learn more about the universe. They also decided on pizza, seemingly a pattern with their sleepovers. Arthur keeps pausing the TV to tell y/n a side fact he'd read somewhere, or heard from another documentary. Usually, y/n hates interruptions, but she doesn't mind it with him. This, out of everything, is the moment she realises she's head over heels for the guy.

When the film is over, Arthur stretches and asks y/n if she wants anything. "We can call it a night, or play some Minecraft if you're up for it?" He offers sweetly.

"Actually, I am pretty tired. Would you be OK with me brushing my teeth and hitting the hay?" She asks him, a yawn punctuating her sentence.

"Of course I don't mind y/n, I'll get you a spare toothbrush out." He heads to the bathroom. Y/n piles up a couple of cushions and lays the blanket ready on the sofa, before joining Arthur in the bathroom. "I got a spare towel and flannel out for you too in case you wanted a shower tomorrow morning, feel free to use my soap." He smiles, deciding to brush his teeth then and there too.

"You really are something Arthur." Y/n says with a delighted sigh.

"Something good I hope," He mumbles in response, his toothbrush still in his mouth and foamy toothpaste all over his smile. She can't help but grin at him as she nods. Once they’re both minty fresh, y/n starts making her way to the sofa. “Wait, what’re you doing?” He asks.

“Going to sleep Arth,” she replies with a confused chuckle.

“Oh no, you can take my bed. You’re not sleeping on a sofa!” He politely informs her. He rushes to her side, almost to guide her back to his room.

“Arthur, you’ve made me feel more than welcome tonight, you deserve to sleep in your own bed!” Y/n sweetly replies. They reach his room.

“Well, that settles it, we’ll have to share it,” Arthur shrugs, his face then getting more serious, “only if you want to though.”

She feigns thinking hard. "Which side of the bed do you prefer?" She then asks.

"Which ever isn't the side you want." He replies with a soft voice.

She rushes to the lounge area to grab her phone, charger, and water. Randomly picking the left side, she climbs in and sighs out another yawn. "Wow, your bed is really comfy," she exclaims, lightly jiggling herself up and down, "and bouncy!"

Arthur laughs at her cuteness. "It is bouncy..." He trails off, his mind going to darker places. He can just about see through his T shirt on her, noticing the way her breasts jiggle and has to tear his eyes away before she notices. And before he gets too excited again. "You OK Arth?" She asks sweetly, seemingly not noticing.

"Oh, um, I'm fine..." He answers, a little too immediate, yet too hesitant at the same time. "But I... usually only sleep in boxers and a tee. Would that be OK?" He awkwardly scratches the back of his neck, slowly getting more sober by the minute at the thought of actually laying next to the girl of his dreams in his own bed.

"That's totally fine, I was about to ask you if I can do pretty much the same thing. I can't stand the feeling of loose fabric on my legs in bed." She giggles.

"Right? It's so uncomfortable!" Arthur yells, still not sober enough to control his volume apparently. He clears his throat and slowly pulls his joggers down, revealing fitted boxers underneath. Y/n pretends to check a phone notification that doesn't exist, as an excuse not to stare, before removing Arthur's pyjama bottoms from under the quilt, folding them, and dropping them on the floor beside her. He adjusts his LED lights to a dim shade of purple, very cozy and reminiscent of his old Tiktok videos.

He slides in next to her, realising that he's not used to one particular side of his bed, but he'll make an exception for her. He's sure he'll be accustomed to the right side one day. Preferably forever. He lays on his back with one hand under his head, the other on his phone. Adjusting his screen brightness and volume as to not disturb y/n. Meanwhile, she lays on her side, away from Arthur, in an attempt to get comfortable. She then rolls over to face him.

"I've got a question for you." She whispers.

"What's that then?" He asks with a side smile, his voice quiet as he turns his head to lock eyes with her.

"Big spoon or little spoon?" She asks.

He chuckles at her cuteness, he wasn’t sure whether the question was going to be serious or not. “I like both.”

“Good answer. What’s your preference for tonight though?” She replies.

Arthur pauses to think, twice tonight he’s been flustered. He doesn’t really want to feel like that again while up against her. He only thinks for a few seconds, but his mind is out to get him tonight. It travels to how her cheeks would feel when he slams into them, all thanks to Becky pointing out y/n’s ass is at the pub golf. He stiffens at just the thought. “L-little spoon tonight.” Smart reply. He doesn’t want her to feel it. Not yet.

He rolls to his right and the bed shifts as she joins him, her arm reaches round his torso and he silently begs that she doesn’t shift her hand down a couple of inches. Her body flushes against him and she feels so warm, so encompassing. He feels safe, but she’s made him feel that way since they first exchanged words.

Now her mind plays dirty. She thinks about that kiss on the sofa, his desperate sigh. His stubble scratching against her skin just the right amount. The way his hand slid up to her waist. The way his eyes undressed her. She wonders what the morning will bring when:

“What are your plans for tomorrow again?” Arthur mumbles.

“Oh, nothing.” She replies, still a little distracted.

“Wrong. You’re spending the day with me.” He replies, almost smooth until he hiccups at the end. She lets out a sleepy laugh and pulls him closer.

“Sounds good to me Arth.” She whispers.

“I look forward to it.” His velvet voice replies. He locks his phone and yawns, setting on his bedside table. “Good night, my little gem.”

She was asleep before she could reply.

———

A faint hissing sound ushers her awake. She frowns as she remembers she’s not in her own bed. She’s facing the wall, not the direction she remembers falling asleep in. Swallowing the morning dryness out of her throat, she rolls over to find the bed empty. “Arthur?” She asks quietly. No response.

She gets up and gives herself a good stretch. She checks her phone to see nothing from him. Her body still not 100% awake yet, she exits his room to find a glorious sight: Arthur in the kitchen area, with just a towel around his waist and messy bed hair. He catches her out the corner of his eye.

“Good morning sleepy.” He chirps, beaming at her. She dreads to think how she looks.

“G’morning Arthur.” She replies with a smile, rubbing the sleep away from her eyes. “Have you been up long?”

“Nah, about 15 minutes I’d say. Just had a shower and then started breakfast.” He replies, concentrating on the frying pan he’s using. “There’s plenty of hot water left for you by the way.”

“Thank you Arth, what are you making?” She joins him in the kitchen, curious and hungry.

“I’m making us some pancakes. It felt like a pancake morning.” He replies, looking happier than ever. “Although they’re not looking too nice.”

"They smell delicious though." She grins as she stands next to him, watching him struggle to scoop up the half cooked batter to flip it. "Here, let me help." Arthur steps aside and lets her take the utensils. His eyes travel from her concentrating smile, down to his T shirt she's still wearing, the further down to her gorgeous bare legs. He adjusts his towel, just in case.

"I don't think there's enough oil here." She mumbles, pouring a little more in and fixing the pancake. "I can do the rest of these if you need to make yourself more decent". She gestures to his towel and gets a better look at his muscles. Her eyes linger for a moment at his perfect six pack and broad shoulders. She takes what she thinks is a subtle sigh, but Arthur can sense her getting flustered.

"You don't think I look decent?" He teases, cocking his head.

"Oh! That's not what... You look incredible, I mean-" She stammers, her eyes going wide.

Arthur squints his eyes shut as he laughs. "I'm kidding! I'll get changed." Y/n stares ahead in disbelief at herself as Arthur walks away. Before he's out of sight, she can see the back of his neck turning red.

"Sorry for starting breakfast and then leaving it for you." Arthur says sheepishly as he rejoins her in the kitchen. He takes a seat up at the counter as she flops the last pancake onto his plate and slides it to him. His eyes pop at the presentation.

"It's really no problem at all, it's better than you burning the place down." She quips as she sits next to him and they dig in. He laughs but interrupts himself with a hum of appreciation, loving their breakfast collaboration.

Y/n breaks the silence. "I hope you don't mind, but I opened a window. It got a bit smokey in here."

Arthur finishes his mouthful, "Don't you mean steamy?" He jokes, smirking at her and bouncing his thick eyebrows. Y/n laughs, covering her mouth as to not spit out her food. She shakes her head at him.

"Don't try and deny it, you were definitely checking me out earlier." He added, cockily. Her mouth widens but she still dons a smile.

"It's not my fault you were wearing nothing but a slutty little towel." She jabs back playfully. Arthur's jaw then drops, he puts his finger in the syrup and swipes it over her lips. Shovelling the last bit of his pancake in his mouth, he rushes out of his chair to avoid any counter attacks. "Oh you're in big trouble Frederick." She grumbles with a grin.

"Don't threaten me with a good time y/n!" He giggles as he starts backing away from her. She hops out of her chair with the whipped cream can in hand, she runs after him but he's much faster. She presses the lid as hard as she can and cream sprays everywhere, including the back of Arthur's hoodie and joggers. He pauses and turns around, a look of surprise on his face.

"That's what you get when you mess with me, towel boy." She smirks, throwing the can in the air and catching it like a cowboy.

"That's it!" Arthur calls as he sprints after her this time. As they both rush past the table, Arthur grabs a strawberry as his weapon of choice. She runs to the lounge area, shrieking as he clambers over the sofa and catches her. He wraps one arm around her and tries pressing the strawberry to her mouth with the other. "Open wide," he mumbles mischievously, but it sounded a little too sexy to y/n. Two can play at that game.

As she wriggles around trying to get out of his grip, she grinds her ass against his crotch. She hears his breath hitch from behind her as he stops for a brief moment, before continuing his attack. "You naughty girl." He murmurs in a low, definitely seductive tone, a pitch deeper than she's ever heard from him. "Get here now."

He manages to turn her to face him amongst the play fighting, a mix of syrup and strawberry juice on her lips. He holds her flush against him with her arms pinned to her side. "Don't you look delicious." He whispers with a smirk. She can feel his phone digging against her and it's just enough stimulation to cause the hairs on the back of her neck to stand. He leans in and licks a slow deliberate line across the corner of her mouth.

"Mmm," he hums, his eyes getting heavy, "I bet that's not the only place you taste good." She can't believe what she's hearing, her breaths get shallower as she instinctively licks her own lips. The mix does taste nice to be fair. He peers into her eyes and chuckles before his phone rings. From the kitchen counter. Oh, she thinks.

"To be continued," Arthur quips, recognising the set ringtone. "It's my manager." He heads to answer it, a little out of breath himself.

"I'm just gonna go shower and freshen up." She excuses herself, just before he accepts the call.

She washes off the mini breakfast she was wearing on her face as she stares at her reflection in the bathroom mirror. Her face is bright red, and not from the strawberry. Arthur's muffled voice from the other room envelopes her as her thoughts take her to his deeper voice from earlier. A sudden wave of shyness engulfs her, that that side of him had been dwelling all this time, but she can't say she's surprised. He's always had a certain cheekiness to, of course that would extend to his bedroom antics. She spots the folded up towel placed beside the sink, where Arthur showed her, but now it has a spare pair of joggers and hoodie on top. He's so considerate. Just as well, the shirt she slept in had food all over it anyway.

———

His phone call didn't last long at all. Arthur awaits y/n's return in the lounge, adjusting his excitement in his waistband and taking a deep breath. Without her beautiful presence, nerves begin to wash over him. He just hopes that he didn't freak her out too much with his playfulness. He then gets a funny thought, and reaches for the TV remote with a smirk.

A few minutes later, y/n emerges from the bathroom wearing a new, but equally cute, outfit. Just seeing her again calms him. She approaches him with an ice breaker prepared. "Everything alright with your manager?" She asks sweetly.

"Yeah," Arthur replies, eyeing y/n up and down, amazed at how she pulls off any outfit, "just double checking my upload schedule, nothing serious." She takes a seat next to him and gets herself comfortable.

"That's good, what are we watch-" She stops mid sentence as she looks at the TV, her mouth hanging open. "Are you serious?" The TV is paused on their pub golf video again, and Arthur chuckles as he scrolls back down to the comments.

"I thought we'd continue our light reading." Arthur sniggers, finding another comment about the pair. "'Arthur wants that cookie so bad hashtag y/nTV'"

"Not this again!" Y/n cries out, laughing. Arthur turns the TV off and throws the remote on the floor. He leans over and wraps his arms around her, burying his face in the crook of her neck.

"Don't be such a baby!" He whispers teasingly. She can hear his smirk as his breath tickles her neck. Round two of the play fight begins. She pushes at him and reaches for his armpits, surprised to figure out he's also ticklish. He shrieks out little 'no's and pleas as he falls onto his back on the floor, y/n tumbling down with him. Luckily the blanket from the night before was crumpled up there, so they were cushioned.

Y/n near straddles him, her knees resting either side of his hips, as she holds herself up. His hands intertwine with hers in a desperate attempt to defend himself. She shifts her weight forwards, pinning his hands either side of his head. They both catch their breaths as Arthur looks down at their bodies, before locking eyes with y/n. He cocks his head with a grin. "Have we been here before?" He chuckles, his face heating up. Y/n bites her lips between her teeth, feeling her lower belly tense before shyly smiling.

"I think we can remove that pin now." Arthur whispers, before leaning upward and capturing her lips in a kiss. It’s not long before the kisses grow passionate and needy again. He swipes his tongue across her bottom lip, a silent request for entry, which she grants. Without the blaring music from the karaoke bar, y/n can hear everything. Every hum of enjoyment or needy whimper coming from him, like little melodies.

Letting go of his hands, she uses one to keep herself steady as the other cups Arthur's cheek. His now free hands raise to hold her at her waist, sliding his fingers under the fabric of his hoodie and lightly grazing his nails up and down her sides. The sensations begin driving her wild, leading her to accidentally let out a soft moan into his lips as her body lowers even more, flush against his.

He pulls away from her, panting slightly, his lips wet and puffy. That sound, it was music to his ears. He looks up at her with blown out pupils, his eyelids low. She in turn, can't take her eyes off him either. He wraps one arm around her torso and threads his other hand up through her hair, resting it on the back of her head, and pushes her down to continue their kissing. Soon after, he rolls the pair of them over, kneeling between her legs as he lowers himself. A gasps escapes her lips for the brief moment they separate, knowing it can't be his phone in his pocket. But her breath is cut off again by his hungry lips. He begins kissing across her jaw until he lands under her ear, exhaling a low hum and sending shivers down her spine. "I'm gonna spoil you so good." He whispers in her ear before softly biting at her neck, that deeper voice making its return. She can't help but whimper in response, instinctively bucking her hips up against his tented joggers. "Fuck, y/n..." he groans. He's magnetised back to her lips as they kiss some more.

Arthur pulls away, needing to take a breath. "Do we... need a condom?" He asks, checking for consent. She looks up at him with soft, dark eyes.

"I'm on the pill and yes, I really want this." She purrs as combs her fingers through his wavy hair, knowing him all too well. Arthur sighs as his eyes roll back with relief, he leans further back on his knees to remove his T shirt. A small gasps escapes y/n's lips as Arthur leans back over her and lets her run her fingers over his chiselled abs. "Holy shit..." She whispers under her breath, and he hums contently under her gentle touch, his tent twitching as he watches her reaction. His fingers toy with the bottom of the hoodie.

"Let's make this fair shall we?" He teases, tugging on it a little. He leans back again as she sits up, shyly removing the hoodie knowing full well her bra's still in the bedroom with the rest of her clothes. She watches his eyes darken as they lock straight on to her chest, his mouth falls open. He raises a hand ready and then pauses, looking at her face.

"You don't need to hesitate," She whispers, "you can do what you want with me, Arthur." She's fully under his seductive spell and just like that, he manoeuvres further down her body and dives in. His lips wrap round her left nipple, while his hand gently massages the other breast. She throws her head back and moans his name in hushed tones. As he continues nipping and suckling, he presses his head against her chest to gently lay her flat on her back again. He then switches his lips to her right nipple as his hands slide down her sides and rest at the waistband of the jogging bottoms. He exhales a moan against her nipple as he hooks his fingers under the fabric, before pulling away and looking up at her through his heavy eyelids.

She peers down at him as he peppers kisses down her belly whilst edging the joggers down, pulling down her underwear with them. Feeling a little shyer, y/n giggles as she raises her hips to help him further. He moves to her side to allow her to remove the joggers with her feet and kick them away. She naturally bends her legs and keeps them together. Arthur chuckles as he kneels by her feet, his callused hands sliding up her calfs and resting on her knees before spreading them open.

"Oh my goodness..." He whispers in delight, the naked goddess before him being even more gorgeous than his imagination. "You're so fucking beautiful." He wraps his big hands round her thighs and pulls her closer, her body sliding along the soft blanket with ease. He shifts back as he lays himself flat on his stomach, meeting her gaze as he dips his head lower.

"Arthur, you don't have to-" She tries, but is cut off when Arthur presses a wet kiss to her inner thigh. He looks down at her pussy.

"But I'm hungry." His licks a stripe up from her hole to her clit, his eyes dart back up to hers as she arches her back and gasps. He flicks his tongue over it again and again, grunting through his nose as he watches her through furrowed eyebrows, her whimpers cheering him on. He grips her thighs tighter as he buries his head more, his attention now on her entrance as his tongue darts inside. She moans his name as he tongue-fucks her, his nose bumping her clit. She watches him in complete bliss as his eyes are fluttered shut, his hands clasped round her thighs.

Sensing her body's growing tension, he focuses back on her clit, suckling on it in a rhythm that matches her heavy breathing. As she approaches orgasm, she can't even find the words to tell him, she just grips his soft fringe and rocks her hips a little in time with his sucking. He moans through his nose as his dark eyes burn into hers and she releases. Her legs shake and she can't help but call his name as he continues the pace that he can tell works for her. As her breathing steadies, he pulls away and wipes his lips with the back of his hand.

He climbs to his feet and stands by her head, reaching a hand out. "Come on gorgeous." He says with a side smile. Y/n moves to her knees, face to face with his achingly stretched out joggers. She reaches for his waistband.

“No darling.” He coos, reaching a hand to her cheek. “We can do that another time, but right now, I need to be in that pussy.” His fingers intertwine with hers as he leads her to the bedroom, the dopiest smile growing on his face as he turns to look at her en route. She’s still cooling down from her orgasm, but he can see she’s excited for what’s next.

When they reach his room, y/n takes charge a little. Still wanting to return the favour somehow, she pushes him onto his bed. He lets out a little ‘oof’ as he’s taken aback, a grin creeping on his pussy drunk face. She chuckles as she climbs on top of him. Naturally, he reaches up to play with her breasts again. “These are magnificent-" he praises before she cuts him off with another kiss. She tastes herself on his tongue which only turns her on more.

She grinds her hips against him, eliciting soft whimpers from him into her mouth. He reaches down to remove his bottoms, now dampened from her wet pussy, and she shifts to the side to allow him. She watches hungrily as his cock springs free, slapping his lower abs. He’s a little bigger than what she’s experienced in the past, but she’s willing to take the challenge. She straddles him again as his cock lays against his torso. She grinds her pussy up and down his length to tease him as his hands grip at her waist. Already it feels so good and he’s not even inside her yet.

“Please y/n.” He begs between desperate breaths. She holds herself higher on her knees as she positions him at her entrance. She lowers herself just enough to make contact, just enough for him to feel how warm she is. He whines quietly through his nose as his hands slide down to her hips and giving the soft flesh a squeeze. His eyebrows knit together as he looks down as his cock, fighting the urge to slam her down.

She watches his face change as she sinks down on him, taking him in completely. They both let out a loud moan in near perfect harmony. He throws his head back with pleasure as he lightly digs his nails into her hips. After taking a couple of seconds to adjust to his size, she begins rocking her hips back and forth.

“Fuck, y/n,” Arthur pants, “you feel, fuck, incredible.” He watches as she works on him, her boobs jiggling as she switches to bouncing on him to roughen things up. His groans grow louder as his mouth hangs wide, watching her with total bliss. His cock is the perfect size, hitting all the right places and stretching her walls just the right amount. She leans forward to kiss him as she rides him.

He interrupts their kissing to whisper her name through gritted teeth against her lips, while he cups her face. He can feel her walls tightening and her whimpers growing more intense. He wraps his arms around her and pins her chest against his before thrusting up into her at incredible speed. She buries her face into the crook of his neck, unable to keep her composure as her second orgasm takes her by storm. He fucks her hard and fast through it and gradually slows down as she recovers. He stills inside her as she catches her breath, planting thankful kisses down his neck.

He keeps her pinned against him as he rolls them both over, still inside her as he kneels between her legs. “Think you can handle some more?” He asks, his voice almost a growl. She stares up at him, completely drunk in lust as she simply nods her head. “Good.” He murmurs as he begins rocking his hips into her, starting off slower and gentler, before pinning her down by the backs of her thighs and pounding her hard. He bites his lip and frowns as he concentrates on slamming that spot in her, feral grunts leaving him. Watching her enjoyment only keeps him energised as he fucks her savagely, but he wants his lips on hers again.

He shifts his weight onto his elbows, unable to pound her as rough but he rocks his hips at a faster and deeper pace. He presses his forehead to hers as he begins moaning louder, her own noises sounding like heaven. “Fuck. You feel so fucking good y/n.” He grumbles. He captures her lips in another heated kiss as he feels her walls tightening once again. “You wanna cum together baby?” He whispers. She groans out an ‘uh-huh’ in response, unable to speak from the sheer pleasure.

He leans to one elbow, using his free hand to cup her jaw as his own orgasm approaches. Despite them tingling, she raises her legs more to allow him to thrust even deeper. Her nails draw sensual stripes down his back.

“Arthur, I’m gonna-”

“Me too y/n. I, FUCK-”

He roars out a guttural moan as he releases into her, her tight walls milking him as they orgasm together. She wraps her arms and legs around him, pulling him as close to her as possible as they groan each other’s names. He kisses her as the wave dies down in their storm of passion.

Leaning away from her, he peers down at her affectionately as he catches his breath.

“Oh my god Arthur.” She exclaims, her voice raspy. He pecks another kiss to her lips before pulling out of her and rolling to her side.

“Wow.” Is all he can muster on his beaming lips. Still panting, he gets up to grab her a towel and begins running a bath for them both.

“Arthur, that was… incredible.” She whispers with a huge smile on her face.

“‘Was’? I'm not finished with you yet.”

♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥•♥

A/n: my first smut piece. Honestly writing this got me kicking my feet, not gonna lie. The support has been amazing, I appreciate everyone's kind words and making me feel so welcome here. ♥♥♥ I'm not sure if a part 5 is needed, maybe an insta AU hard launch to round it off? ♥ Taglist: @ooostarwarsfandom501st @themdera @rougetv @essieswurld @darleneslane - Gabby xo

[wiltking]

I also tried to read Leviathan Wakes because I saw it was a show and I hated it, tbh 😭 do you know any sci fi that isn’t misogynist? I want to like the genre more..

disclaimer it has been several years since i was seriously into scifi so i can't 100% vouch for these and your mileage may vary. but here are some favorites off the top of my head!

blindsight by peter watts - one of my favorite books of all time. existential space horror scifi about a guy with half a brain on a ship sent out to make first contact, with a handful of other chosen/altered humans. and a vampire. the freeze-frame revolution by the same author is also good if you want a shorter read, its about a crew on an intergalactic ship that stages a revolution during the short time periods they're allowed to be awake.

machineries of empire trilogy by yoon ha lee - military scifi with a disgraced lesbian MC (no romance) who has to redeem herself by capturing a fortress through some of the most insane and strange combat i've ever encountered in scifi. verrrry creative and unique and ambitious. the definition of innovative. did not enjoy books 2 and 3 as much as the first, but still very worthwhile, even if you only ever read ninefox gambit.

warchild by karin lowachee - space scifi about a deeply traumatized child who comes of age amid an interstellar war, who has to become both a living weapon and a master spy. i remember really loving the alien language present in this book and how it encouraged the reader to learn it while reading along. also another case of not liking books 2 and 3 as much as the first, but warchild is 5 stars to me. heads up for graphic and mature themes, though iirc warchild doesn't go into it with as much detail as cagebird.

the ophiuchi hotline by john varley - space scifi published in 1977 that reads surprisingly modern and has some fascinating depictions of gender and sex changes, with a very interesting female MC. the plot itself is very strange, something about signals being sent from an unknown deepspace entity. i've been meaning to read more from this series.

ancestral night by elizabeth bear - another space scifi with a lesbian MC with fantasy elements, about a crew of deepspace salvagers who come across a terrible crime in the dark recesses of the galaxy. i remember not caring much for the love interest and don't think it really hits romance territory, but everything else really worked for me: from a complex MC who carries deep issues and uncertainties, weird spacetime stuff, weird alien concepts, little bits of gender nonconformity, and bear's lovely descriptive writing. definitely slower-paced at times.

[edward-munson]

I don't care | S.H.

Summary: Taking care of Steve after he was attacked by an army of demobats seems like a lot of work, only because apparently he doesn't like you.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x f!reader

Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of injury, allusion to smut

Word count: 2.2k

☆°•○♡

"You want them spicy or not?" You ask Steve as you make nachos for dinner for both of you.

He's lying on the couch, on his back. He still recovers from the attack of the demobats. His neck is almost fully scarred, but the bites on his stomach and his sides are still painful. You've been laying low together for close to two weeks.

Your friends didn't want to make you team up with them to find Vecna and kill him. Not that you're not brave or strong enough to do so. But you're still pretty new to all of this and someone had to stay with Steve. So you didn't even bother opposing the idea, even though he's not your biggest fan.

God knows why, he never told his reasons. And your friends didn't know either. Maybe Eddie did, but he wouldn't open his mouth about it.

"I still think this is really unnecessary. I'm not a fucking child" He complains as he walks past the kitchen door, leaning against the sink.

With crossed arms, he looks at your food. You made chilli beans, guacamole and cheese sauce for the spicy nachos. You look up at him, trailing your eyes on his neck for an instant before raising an eyebrow to him.

"You can't even hold your own weight, Harrington. Stop being a crybaby".

Steve scoffs at you, but doesn't move an inch from his position. "Jesus, I wish we had another plan".

You drop the spoon you were using, turning your face to look at him. "I'm only doing this because they asked me to. Get off your own ass".

You leave the kitchen, walking out to the bedroom you were sleeping on. You were staying at his house. It's not like there were other options, but you couldn't refuse to stay there when he's alone and barely walking. Well, he can walk. The worst part is that he needs rest because of his wounds.

The past two weeks you've been quite getting along. Not that much, really. It's not like you were friends. Probably more like close acquaintances. Because obviously, he was the one pushing you away.

You didn't leave your room for a while, you were too annoyed to eat, and since it was dinner for the two of you, it didn't feel like you should eat anymore. You decided to spend your time watching something on the TV, which would easily make you get bored.

And then you would read books, or write stuff. It's been pretty tough lately since Vecna appeared. Max almost got killed and now she was staying at Dustin's house. The other kids were coming back to Hawkins to help, maybe Eleven might be able to do something about that.

You actually wished you were doing something fun. Like, taking a trip to the beach or snowboarding since it's fall and the weather has been cold. Your thoughts were pushed back by a knock on the door. Steve didn't open it and you didn't mention doing it either, so he just stayed there.

"Sorry I was an idiot" His voice came out muffled through the closed door. "I know I've been cranky and annoying".

You only opened the door after a couple of minutes, not exactly sure if he was still there. But he looked up from the floor at you. "You used to be nice. I mean, way before this curse happened".

He stayed quiet, because you were right. But what else can he do if the world was turned upside down (almost literally) again? And you almost got them killed once, not on purpose of course.

You were also the one to get too close to Robin and he hated seeing his best friend sharing her friendship with someone else. Because up until then, he was the only one she was the closest he had to a friend, even though he had a strong relationship with Eddie too.

None of it was your fault, but he grew annoyed over you. He couldn't lie to himself and say you weren't too kind and helpful. But he started to become extremely unenthusiastic over you through the year.

"A lot has happened since then. I'm trying to live up to the fact that we're against another monster again" Steve leans an arm against the doorframe, but refuses to keep his gaze at you.

"Which isn't my fault, by the way. Not to mention I'm the one who pulled you out of the watergate before you were eaten".

Another few seconds of silence, which was followed by a sarcastic nasal laugh. He shook his head and hung it low to the floor.

"Oh, you want a prize for that? Because I remember clearly when I didn't ask for your help!" His words were harsh, even if not intended.

But now you were the one who didn't know what to say. Until you feel the bitter taste on your tongue.

"Guess I should've let them rip your skin apart, then".

He saw the door shutting in front of him, cursing himself for being extremely idiotic and insensitive. He almost felt like punching his own face for that.

Steve heard you talking to Eddie that night through your walkie talkie. It was a little bit hard to hear because the reception was static for you. But you could listen to Eddie and God, you missed him and the others. It started to become unbearable to live with Steve. He heard you lament the whole situation, complaining about the way you were treating each other.

He was bitter about the things they were going through. He was angry he couldn't have done more. And he was taking it out all on you. He couldn't face another apology on the same day, because he knew he didn't deserve to be forgiven. Not right now.

The next day, he made breakfast by himself. It took you by surprise, but by the time you were up, he had already eaten. And you wouldn't want to eat with him either. You remember Nancy saying the bickering was just "sexual tension" but you knew it didn't have anything to do with that.

Even though you felt your ears burning from the thought, you couldn't deny to yourself that he was pretty charming. And seeing him shirtless whenever he would change the gauze made you feel weird. God, his hair was always pretty while yours looked like a bird nest after waking up.

The day seemed to have lasted longer since you haven't exchanged a single word to each other. He was focused on watching movies, playing video games and listening to music. He was getting bored out of his mind, but there wasn't much he could do being injured.

You, on the other hand, went out to do some errands. In fact, you didn't care you left him alone. You were getting tired of staying inside. So you went to see Max, and invited her to eat at Burger King. She seemed to feel better to do something like that too. Everything seemed pretty fuzzy lately.

Will, Mike and Eleven were pretty close to Hawkins. Thanks to Argyle who thinks he's a speed racer, and Jonathan who encourages him to drive long hours so they can arrive as soon as possible.

It was almost 7 PM when you came back home. You've finally had some fun after a week. You obviously couldn't be going out since they still haven't found Vecna and he knows about you too. The man in front of you seemed pretty pissed that he didn't see you were out until he woke up two hours ago.

"What? Don't give me that father look" You dropped your backpack on the floor and followed upstairs.

He's got a whole show prepared and he wasn't feeling like he would regret it this time.

"You know you can't just fucking go out and yet, you still do" He walked behind you, like a mother scolding a child.

"Yeah, dad. I know so. But here I am, back in pieces" You turned on your heel to look at him before closing your door.

Much to your dismay, he was faster this time, holding it with his right foot and right hand. Even injured, he was still stronger than you.

"No, don't push it. You can be an easy target for him, you know that?"

You huff, dropping your arm to your side. "Look, Harrington. I'm an adult, and I'm very aware of what I do or don't do. So please, just stop making a scene and leave me the fuck alone".

Steve couldn't even stand arguing with you anymore, it was so tiring. But he knew he would blame himself if something ever happened to you out there. He couldn't let this happen to you, even though you've been annoying him for whatever reason.

He took a step towards you, his hands balling into fists. The way your eyes were boring into him in an unamused face irritated him even more.

"Look, honey" His tone was purely sarcastic and you felt it not only in his voice, but in his demeanor too. "You know you're putting yourself at risk doing that. If I'm not fucking sure you're safe as well, I won't live with that".

At each passing second, you could feel him walking to you, but you couldn't walk back. You couldn't run from him, you couldn't get away from him. You wouldn't, you didn't feel like you wanted to.

"And not just because of my friends, they sure would kill me. But because I couldn't lose another person" You feel his breathing hitting your face, his eyes flicking as he looks at you.

He looks down at you with such intensity, it's crazy how there's a magnetic pull towards him.

You hold his gaze, feeling a cold shiver down your spine. He didn't look like he was about to snap at you, even though his tone was a bit loud.

He furrows his brows when he sees your lip curling into a smirk. "Well, Steve" His fingers move by the sound of his name, you always call him Harrington. "I thought you didn't care if I died or not".

This time, he was the one to smirk at you. "Honey, I don't remember saying I never cared about you".

Your stomach sank at that. Because now as you think of it, it comes crashing down as a realization that he never really said anything related to that. He truly never spoke about it.

"Doesn't seem like it"

"You see, this is why you annoy me so much" His nose bumps into yours, but he still gazes at you like he doesn't mean to avoid eye contact.

"Yeah? Then you should–" He doesn't let you finish your sentence.

Steve crashes his lips against yours, his hands flying down your hips. He feels your immediate reaction as you don't correspond right away. For a few seconds, he thinks he's done the wrong thing and almost regrets it, until you grab him by the neck with both hands. You wrap your fingers around his neck, your fingertips grazing the nape of his hair.

Your lips are smacking his lips in a hurry, while he runs a hand to cradle your face. He slips his tongue into your mouth and holds his breath when he feels your tongue moving in sync with him. He doesn't want to admit this is what he wished he could've done before.

Steve has been so stressed lately that he could only think about defeating Vecna. He didn't realize how much you were willing to take care of him these weeks. All he knew was that he also had to take care of you. And this is why he became so angry when you left without him knowing.

Especially because if something did happen to you, he would feel the regret of being an asshole to you.

He rips a low whimper from you when he gently grasps your lower lip by his teeth as he heaves against your mouth. You're both too absorbed into your own feelings, leaving grunts and gripping each other everywhere.

His fingers were digging your skin every time you would kiss his jawline and he was growing eager. He didn't want to look like he was trying to take advantage of you, only noticing now how much you also wanted this.

He then roughly pulls your shirt off, watching as your chest is quickly rising and falling. And his eyes sparkled when he saw your cleavage for the first time like that. Your bra perfectly hugging your round big breasts.

Steve didn't wait any longer, holding your waist and pushing you back against your bed.

That night, he pounded on you just like you dreamed about. He slapped his hips against your ass just like you wished someone would one day. The air was filled with sounds and lust.

You didn't even notice when your friends arrived right after he had an orgasm. You didn't have time to get dressed, only getting caught when Robin opened the door to you both naked. He didn't have time to remove his condom. She saw you naked. And worse. She saw her best friend naked.

And you thought it was going to be awkward, until Eddie turned the awkwardness into "I knew these idiots would fuck".

The night was all about this. They decided to leave the Vecna subject for the next day.

[cordjefferson]

Hi! Not sure if you still answer questions on here, but I feel lost as a screenwriter right now. In my final year of film school, I’m afraid the “industry” we are about to be let out into no longer exists. I don’t want to go back to journalism, but I also don’t want to fail at screenwriting in vain. I’ll keep going, but just wondering if you’ve ever found yourself in a similar place. Hope you’re well.

A few days after Trump was elected the first time, I called my dad to complain and commiserate. He listened to me worry for a few minutes and then he said, "You know, when I was a young man, it was common to wake up and find out that Medgar Evers had been killed or that Malcolm X had been killed or that Martin Luther King Jr. had been killed, or that another person had been lynched somewhere not too far from where I grew up. It was terrible, but we had to go on living our lives."

It was a helpful reminder that shit's always sucked -- in many ways it used to suck worse. That doesn't mean your fear is unfounded. You have every right to be afraid as all the world's ghouls circle their wagons in an effort to eternalize their wealth and influence, thus making our already intractable problems feel even more intractable. But the great news is that now is the perfect time for you to make your art.

Hard times can make for excellent work. Consider that punk rock and rap blossomed under Reagan. I'm currently in the middle of a novel called The Oppermanns, which follows a trio of German-Jewish brothers in 1933 Berlin dealing with the rise of Nazism. It's a great book on its face, but the whole piece becomes even more interesting when you discover that it was written by a German-Jew in real time as the Nazis rose to power.

Even if what you write isn't taken seriously at first, making art is never a failure. Artists aren't athletes, meaning you don't need to produce your best work before you turn 35 and your knees give out. Creativity is a lifelong pursuit. You'll only get better at it the more you live, learn, and grow. And because the winds of industries and the world are always changing, allowing their vagaries to scare you into inaction would be a death sentence.

I had a very long dry spell in the year 2014. I went to meeting after meeting trying to get into a TV writers' room and was rejected over and over again. After almost nine months of being told no, I finally emailed my manager one night to say that I was going to quit "working" in TV and go back to what was left of my journalism career. He asked me to stick it out for one more month, and two weeks later I got an interview with someone who hired me. Work has fortunately been pretty steady ever since. So, of course, stubborn persistence is also a valuable tool in all of this.

I can't imagine I'm saying anything that you don't already understand somewhere in your heart. You know that you've picked a challenging career. The arts are infamously cutthroat and chancy, and many of your contemporaries are going to quit somewhere along the line. It's a tough road to hoe, and the only thing that makes it at all tolerable is the ability to find value and joy in the making of your thing, whatever that may be. If writing something feels like it's been done in vain because you don't sell it or it doesn't become a hit TV show, I recommend you don't do this work. Only do it if the doing of it is what sustains you, because the doing of it may be what has to sustain you forever.

I'm rooting for you from afar. XO