#It's literally one of my least strange crushes let me have this

[decaf-mother]

My friend is judging me for my crush on Foggy from Daredevil.

[captain-huggy-bear]

"Can- Can you come over please?" (I believe prompt list 1 number 80?) with whoever you're inspired for please 😊 thank you! - em

Em, it was giving soft boy Luke who's maybe feeling shitty after a bad game, so I hope you like it. First time writing Luke so I'm super sorry if it doesn't feel right for him (as we think of him because obvs we don't know him but still) Also I like how I was like let's write something short and then...just kept writing...😂 Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :) Writing Masterlist

You'd been friends with Luke Hughes for almost as long as he'd been in New Jersey, both of you new to the city at the time had stumbled into each other quite literally one wintery afternoon. Your coffee going all over his hoodie, his doughnut squishing chocolate icing over your sweater. You'd expected him to yell, instead you learnt that day how utterly sweet and kind Luke Hughes was. He replaced your coffee and refused to let you buy him a new doughnut, but did let you invite him over so you could put some stain remover on his hoodie.

You might be thinking, 'are you crazy? Inviting a strange man to your apartment?', but you can only explain your risk through two pieces of information: 1) You knew roughly who he was. You weren't a fan of his by any means but you followed Hockey and had heard about the newest addition to the Devils, so you at least knew he wasn't a criminal, 2) Luke Hughes had been wearing snoopy socks and something about that had screamed 'non-threatening'.

Looking back it was probably slightly insane on your part, but it bagged you a close friend who you may or may not have had a massive crush on, so you couldn't really say you regretted risking it.

It wasn't unusual for Luke to phone you after a game, more often than not you got a quick phone call or a few texts sent through while he was out celebrating or commisserating with the team, often being invited out even when he knew you weren't much for late nights out on the town.

It was unusual though for that phone call to come in at 1 in the morning while you were sleeping.

You're groggy and half awake, hand patting the bedside table until you grip your phone, Luke's ringtone blarring through the speakers only because he was one of your few exceptions. One of a handful of people who could call you after 11pm without being sent straight to voicemail, the others being your family.

"Lukey? It's..." You stop to squint at your alarm clock, "1:41 in the morning, what's wrong?" You knew the game had ended late, but Luke should have been in bed by now or he should have been out partying with Jack and the boys, definitely not phoning you. You half expected him to be drunk on the other end of the line, maybe having phoned you while out with the team.

Instead his breath is shaky on the other end of the line, voice raspy like he's been crying and that's what has you sitting upright and swinging your legs out of bed before he even finishes his question.

"Can- Can you come over please?" His voice is scratchy and strained, a rasp that sounds defeated. You don't even considering getting changed from your pajamas, you just throw a jacket on from your closet.

"Yeah, yeah, of course, what's wrong?"

"Just...just come over please, angel" You're quick timing it as you shove your feet in a pair of shoes and grab your keys off the side, locking your apartment door behind you. It didn't matter to you that it was nearly 2am or that you hadn't brushed your hair or that you were half-asleep, all that mattered was Luke and the way he sounded like the world might be just a little too much for him right now.

"Okay, okay, want me to stay on the line?"

"No, just...drive safe?" You pause in the hallway, heart hurting at his concern, that even now when he's begging for your help he cares that you're safe.

"Yeah, course, Lu, i'm leaving right now, sweetheart." He lets out a shuddering breath on the line, right before he hangs up and you're certain you might cry because God, Luke shouldn't sound like that, so utterly defeated, so fragile.

You do your best to honour his request on the drive to his and Jack's apartment, even as you want to break a hundred traffic laws just to get there sooner, but you don't. It doesn't take long, but ten minutes feels like one hundred when all you want is to be see Luke and make sure he's okay.

He's at the door from the first knock and you don't say anything, just take him in. His tall form hunched at the shoulders like he's trying to hide within his hoodie, hood pulled over his head and eyes red rimmed, blotchy. There are dark, deep circles beneath his eyes and his lip is bruised and split, a few neatly placed stitches holding it together.

You don't say anything, just step forward and wrap him in your arms as best you can, tiptoeing to press your chin to his shoulder, arms tight around him as if you can protect him from whatever is going on in his head.

He grasps as you like you're a lifeline, fingers digging into your jacket, face pressed so tight to the crook of your neck that you're certain he'll fuse there.

He doesn't protest when you pull him into his apartment, door slamming shut. Doesn't protest when you pull him to his room, asking where Jack is, only to get a short clipped reply of 'club'. Doesn't protest when you sit him on his bed and join him, shoes being kicked off. It's not until you try to pull away from him that he really seems to come to life, hands grasping you firmer, pulling you back, "Don't go, please don't go..."

"'m not going anywhere, Lu, it's okay..." You pull back just enough that you can pull his hood back, fingers carding through his brown curls gently like he might break. "What happened?"

"Just needed you..." His face presses back into your shoulder as your fingers work through his hair like it's a perfectly normal thing to say to your best friend, like he didn't call because he had a shit game, because he doesn't want to talk about it."

"Lu...talk to me, baby"

There's a stark silence, broken only by a shaky breathe that comes from Luke as if the idea of talking is enough to make him cry for the second time that night. "I'm...i'm not good enough for the team, did a shit job tonight and we lost...it's my fault. Played like shit."

"What did Jack say?" You're gentle with it, soft voice, soft fingers on the nape of his neck. It's silly, he knows he's being dramatic, he also knows that it's not a friend thing to do. Knows he wouldn't call any of his other friends at near 2am because he needs them, knows he wouldn't beg for their fingers in his hair to sooth him or feel better just by the smell of their laundry detergent and shampoo. Luke knows he called you because he loves you, pretty sure he loved you the moment you excitedly showed him you'd gotten the coffee stain out of his UMIC hoodie.

"I was being too hard on myself, that it wasn't the 'Luke Hughes show'." He immitates Jack's voice, a pouty sort of tone riding his voice because he knows his brother is right even if he refused to sit moping with him and went out drinking instead.

"He's right. Hockey is a team sport, Luke, you aren't even on the ice the entire time! You do not get to decide that you're the reason a game is won or lost, you don't get to shoulder that."

"But.." Your palms cup his face, pulling him up to look at you. Your face is dead serious brows furrowed, lips pursed.

"No, you're a good hockey player. They picked you to play for them because of what you bring to the table and maybe you didn't play your best tonight , but you deserve to be on the team. You can't always be at 100." Your thumbs brush his cheeks under his eyes, like you might be able to wipe away the dark bags there. He looks worn, exhausted, tears just welling in those green eyes of his.

You're not entirely sure he believes you, "If I said I wasn't good enough because I had a bad day at work, what would you say to me?"

"To shut up and stop being mean to yourself..." Luke frowns at you like you're insane for even suggesting something like that, and it's what makes you smile for the first time that night, as if to say I told you so.

"Exactly, so stop being mean to yourself, Lu. You're amazing, i'm always in awe of how you skate..." You brush a curl from his eyes and watch them flutter closed slightly, throat tightening a little because you know this isn't the way you're supposed to feel about your best friend.

"Really?"

"Really..." You watch him carefully, the way he just leans more into your hands like he trusts you entirely to hold him up, the deep swelling of his lip, the beauty marks across his cheeks. "What do you need from me, right now?"

He takes a moment, like the words are stuck on the tip of his tongue whether unsure of how to ask or worried to make things weird. Both of you always toeing the line between friends and something decidedly more romantic.

"Can...can you just hold me? Just stay the night?" He blinks up at you with such big sweet eyes that you're not sure anyone would be able to refuse him, so you don't.

"I can do that."

You treat him delicately, like he's not a nearly 200 pound hockey player that regularly gets body slammed against boards and ice, who's covered in bruises and currently sporting a split lip. You pull him to lie down with you, curling around him like a protective blanket, pulling his face back into the crook of your neck, legs twisting with his. It's definitely not what friends do, but it's what he needs, so he grips you back tight, presses his face firmly into your neck and pulls your leg over his hip to be as close as possible.

You don't move more than the brush of fingers through his hair or down his arm, across his back. Even when you can hear soft snores, the sign of him having fallen asleep, you don't move because as much as Luke said he need this, you kind of need this too.

[moonsaver]

Thinking back to a post you once made about Aeon Sunday… Imagine being someone who knew Sunday in the past before his ascension, only to then receive the gaze of Aeon Sunday later in life

Oh my god. I love this. This is simultaneously creepy AND oddly romantic.

Theres a lot of possibilities for this – was reader sunday's crush? A suitor? Maybe just someone he shared small talk with and actually liked it more than usual? Ooohohoho

Im not sure if its yan or not, so i just kinda.. kept it variable(?)

This ones a bit longer because i desperatley need to wordvomti . Thanks.

Achieving an aeon's gaze is strange, your discipline, morals, ideals, lifestyle, something has to deeply resonate with their followed path. Let us assume Sunday is something similar to a "dreamlike" aeon [maybe it's mentioned in his boss form description, all i remember is the embryo of Philosophy ;;]

But again, it's not exactly stated how you'd be able to achieve an aeon's gaze; i still have no idea how acheron did it [IX is literally a black hole??], because i cant for the life of me read through those huge blocks of texts in the dialogue.

So lets say Sunday's able to pull his own strings and maybe even force you on that path. He's an aeon – who's stopping him?

Its the middle of the night, you're awake in bed, tossing and turning. It feels like something in your chest is pulling, a weird sensation you've been trying to put off. Your eyes are burning from the lack of sleep, but your mind seems restless. You try to calm yourself down and think about one thing and then another, one by one, until you remember Sunday. You wonder what was going through his mind, his in-between words in that one conversation, what he could have meant..

And like that, you fall asleep. Your bones sink into the bed, your weight relaxes into the pliant surface.

And then you awake. But somewhere else. It's not your bedroom – not the familiar ceiling, nor the corner of your room with piled clothes or a messy table. It's the cosmos, littered with stars. It's strange. You almost don't notice until you try to move – you're floating in space.

You turn, and he's there. That recognizable golden halo, stretching out into the dark expanse like the inside of a star plunging into the depths, golden eyes that peer down at you; with recognition, understanding, almost sympathy, and something you can't quite place. Your ribs ache and your lungs burn when you're reminded to breathe – this is the man you were thinking about before you slept.

You wake up, panting, shooting up in bed. The familiar space of your room greets you this time. The night is young outside your window ‐ not much time seems to have passed in that brilliant moment.

You were ready to chalk it up to a dream, like the ones where you feel like you're falling and wake up with a racing heart. But then you look down, and see a strange symbol on your body, something akin to an eye.

It seems you've earned his blessing to follow his path.

And even more? It seems like you're the first person to actually follow this path.

It's strange and isolating in a way. You can awaken from the sweetdream paradise your beloved Aeon seems to have put penacony under. You gain this strange, superflous, iridescent ghost of a halo, and you realise you can use it to communicate.

You can communicate with Sunday.

But a part of you finds it pointless. you can't understand what he's saying anymore; Aeons' existence transcends language. You can only hear whispers of people speaking to you, as though it's from the corner of a room, somewhere in the distance, with one barely audible male voice standing out in the whispering; it might be sunday's real voice, but you're not sure. At least, to some degree, you've managed to make out a few words.

Some words give you information. You can monitor the true handiwork of your aeon this way. Every person's dream — sweet, deep slumbers, exquisitely woven by deft fingers, all in 7 days. You figured this when you phased out of the dream, looking down at your own sleeping body and freaking out, when Sunday communicated with you for the first time, instantly calming you down. Dream. Woven. 7 days. Those words were evident in the cacophony of whispers.

Some words carry warnings. Or rather, they're not exactly words.

When your curious hands boldly trace the surface of a particularly fragile dream, you hear breathing. In close proximity, too, as if its right behind your ear. Sometimes, if you try to wake someone, you feel the breathing; warm, and languidly flowing down the back of your collar. You've chosen to not find out what happens when you don't listen.

Sometimes, when you decide to simply phase out of the dream to take a look at your own body in reality – you talk to Sunday. You tell him what you think, who you met in the dreamscape, what he can do to make it better [since.. well, you can't exactly do much to awaken anyone or oppose an aeon]. You assume he doesn't hear you, since you don't get your whispery response, but after you catch a few glimpses of your suggestions in the dreamscape, you realise he's just a good listener.

Perhaps, even if you may be the only follower of this path for now.. it may not be as isolating as you think.

[humdrummoloch]

Here's an exercise to apply to your story: pick any scene and build up its stakes.

Most scenes should have at least a tiny bit of tension. Not every scene has to drip with artificial melodrama, but if the audience doesn't see a good reason to care about what's happening, they probably won't.

Using this 3-part exercise I just made up, just with a few quick bullet lists, you can dissect that scene's stakes and make them mean something.

PART 1: THE TELLING

Take a moment to focus on the stakes in your scene. What's the worst that could happen? List them.

Here's the rule: if a stake is obvious, don't count it.

Wrong: "If he kills me, I die."

Wrong: "If the villain fails to get the artefact, he fails."

Wrong: "If I lose this match, I lose."

Sure, yeah. But what ELSE?

Correct: "If I die, there'll be no one to protect my family."

Correct: "If I don't get this magical artefact before the hero stops me, my plans to take over the world will be sabotaged."

Correct: "If I lose this match, I'll never make it to the championships and show the world what I can do."

The stronger these stakes are, the better (within reason). "So-and-so might die" isn't a compelling (as it could be) narrative stake even in stories where people do die.

Even in low-stakes stories, the characters care about those low stakes. If it's important to them that they impress that client or get that job, tell us WHY they care. Is it their lifelong dream, or the promise they made to their dying mother, or the job that'll take them away from a horrible living situation? Will failure embarrass them in front of their crush?

PART 2: THE SHOWING

Now you know what could go bad, let the audience feel it. Just take things that matter and tweak them so that they're tangible.

"If I don't join the fight, my friend might die!" -> Show us an enemy raising a sword about to strike their friend down if the character doesn't rush in to save them NOW.

"If I drop out, I'll be a bad daughter!" -> Show us her parents bragging about their kid's academic performance and telling her they're happy they have a good kid with a bright future instead of some "no-good delinquent."

"If I don't pay by next week the bank's gonna take our house!" -> Show us the character begging for just a few more days, show their reaction to overhearing someone talking about buying the house from the bank to bulldoze the property. Show what the house means to them and how they made it their home.

PART 3: THE HAPPENING

Remember, a bullet seems a whole lot deadlier when it doesn't literally miss every time. But it would be strange if every scifi involved the whole planet blowing up, right? Or if the main characters all died? So, you have to show us you're not kidding by employing a secret third thing. Here's the trick to this: divide up the stakes into pieces and make one of the pieces happen.

If the protag's team is in actual danger, just one of them can die. Maybe even someone "essential" -- the climax will be boosted from the team overcoming this setback, the story becoming more clutch and unpredictable to the audience.

A marriage on the rocks? Show that their previously happy kid is suddenly hiding things from them and failing in school.

The city in danger? Show us buildings being knocked over.

Hell, the protag themselves in danger? They've got a leg they might not be using.

If a stake can't be split down like this, it might be better to have the bulldozers show up at the house during the climax. Maybe even let the house fall.

After this exercise, your scene should now feel a whole lot more weighty, whether it's a job application or a final battle to the death. Again, not every scene needs tension and it can go too far and become silly, but I hope this exercise helps you the way it helps me.

[asterias-record-shop]

moan our name (p.p. (t.h.) & p.p. (a.g.))

(No forgotten memories, Peter 1 isn’t with MJ, Peter 3 is with you, never got with Gwen — in Peter 1’s world you’re this college girl he has a crush on.) When experimenting with a Sling Ring you found with your boyfriend, you couldn’t believe it when you both fell into a portal in another Spider-Man’s room. — 1.3k words

“Babe, I thought you said you weren’t going to keep messing with that thing?”

Peter was concerned for you, mainly because he was worried about your safety. He really didn’t want you to fall through a portal with no way to get home like he did.

“I’m just trying…” you muttered, humming softly as you attached a clip to it. “To see if it’s a conductor.”

Peter snorted as he came behind you, letting his arms wrap around your torso, softly pressing kisses to your temple. “Why do you need it as a conductor, baby?”

“To see if I can put its powers into something like a bracelet or something,” you muttered in response, heavily focused until it blitzed slightly. You gasped when it did so, and Peter jumped slightly as flickers of gold started to pour out through the ring, proceeding to sink down into some sort of ring-like portal.

“Son of a bit-”

Peter didn’t get to finish before you both fell down what seemed to be a portal like when Peter fell through one a few months ago and helped save another universe. Peter quickly uses his powers to shoot a web at you, pulling you into his chest and twisting so he makes impact with the floor instead of you.

He grunted as you looked around, inhaling as you sat up in his lap, letting your eyes trail the posters in the high apartment that seemed as though it cost more than all of Peter’s lab. “Where are we?”

Peter looks around, sighing thankfully. “Oh thank fuck.”

“What? Peter, where are we?” You asked as you slowly stood up, helping your boyfriend up as he softly kissed your head.

“We’re on the other Peter’s earth,” he mumbled into your hair, thankful that you were okay. “Remember I told you about him?”

You swallowed, about to nod before someone yelled.

“Peter 3!”

Your boyfriend pulled away, smiling when he saw the other brunette. “Peter 1!”

He was about to give your boyfriend a hug before he noticed you, his face immediately flushing. “Y/N?!”

Peter 3 paused, looking from Peter 1 from you to Peter. “You have a Y/N here?”

Peter 1 swallowed, nodding — he had literally just got off to the thought of you. Well, his you.

“Oh, you’re Peter 1!” You said as you stepped forward, offering your hand. “It’s nice to finally meet you! My Peter has told me all about you.”

Your Peter grinned when you called him ‘my Peter,’ watching as you stepped forward to greet the other Peter. Still, Peter 1 was shocked when you touched him, the firm shake of your hand making his jaw go slack.

“This must be Tony Stark’s empire you took over,” your Peter said as you stepped back, face scrunching slightly.

“Who’s Tony Stark?”

“His… dad, I believe,” your Peter said as you looked around. “We don’t have a Tony Stark. Or, a famous one at least.”

“Wait! Do they have Goblin?” You asked as you turned around, almost as though you needed to prepare before your Peter laughed as he walked over to you.

“You don’t have to worry, baby,” he whispered, softly kissing your lips as Peter 1 looked away, putting his hand over his groin area to try and hide himself from getting hard again. Your Peter noticed this, smiling as he pulled away and looked over at Peter 1.

“You mind if we crash here? Until we figure out how to get back,” he hummed as he softly brushed his hand down your back. “My darling girl was trying to put the ring’s power into some bracelets.”

Peter 1 nodded frantically. “Y-Yeah, of course,” he whispered, swallowing. “I’ll call Dr. Strange so he can get you both back.”

Your Peter grinned as you yawned into his chest. “Thanks, kid.”

Peter 1 was upset. Very upset.

For one, you were even nicer than he could ever imagine – and he hated it.

For two, you both were stuck here until the wall between the worlds were thin enough again.

For three, the walls in the Stark Tower were thin with his enhanced hearings. Very, very thin. So much so that he was jacking himself off everytime you both had sex, just like he was doing right now.

He knew you were on your third orgasm. Peter 3 had barely just came, and you were about to cum, but Peter 3 knew just what he was doing.

“Come on baby, come on… moan my name, moan my name baby,” he groaned, the squelching of your pussy bouncing off the walls. He could only imagine how wet you were, the wet thrusts matching his pace of Peter 1 pumping his cock.

He had came just as many times as you had, mainly because he was so desperate to fuck you. What kind of coincidence was it that Peter 3 and you were together?

The thought made him pump his fist faster. He couldn’t stop, he was so so desperate to feel you.

“P-Peter, Peter!” You wailed, sobbing as you threw your head back, the bed continuing to slam into the wall. “I-I’m going to cum!”

Your Peter laughed. “Aw baby, you’re such a good girl… keep moaning my name, moan our name…”

That made Peter 1s eyes fly open.

Oh, he truly knew what he was doing.

It didn’t take Peter 1 long to get up, not even covering his cock as he walked through the halls and banged on the door.

“Ah, took him long enough, my darling…”

“Fuck you!” Peter 1 yelled, not even waiting for Peter 3 to open the door because he knew damn well he wouldn’t pull out of you – because Peter 1 wouldn’t either – stepping inside and stripping his clothes.

“W-We had a bet,” you giggled tiredly, inhaling. “Peter already stretched me out from behind.”

So that’s where he was fucking you earlier.

And so, Peter 1 wasted no time walking toward the bed before your Peter fixed the position of both of you, pulling you into his lap, spreading your legs with his thighs. “Like hell I was going to let you fuck her pretty cunt.”

To be completely honest, Peter 1 would take whatever he could get.

So he kneeled behind you, slowly steadying himself before snapping his hips forward to push into your ass. A loud wail left your lips, your teasing finally biting you in the ass as both Peter’s slowly started to fuck into you in sync.

Peter 1s thrusts were a lot more unsteady, almost as though he was still questioning what was going on, but your Peter’s thrusts were strong and rough.

He looked so pretty under you, sweat dripping down his temple as Peter 1 slowly fucked you from behind, moaning loudly as he kissed your shoulder blade. He was starting to get rougher, and the fact that two men were fucking you at now very different paces made your mind blur as their hands roam your body.

At this point, you truly were just a toy for them – and they were determined to use you like that.

“Come on baby, does it feel too good that you’re silent? Huh? Make some fucking noise,” your Peter basically snarled as his teeth graze your jaw, but that’s truly what you were feeling – you felt so good that you could barely make any noise, only with your mouth agape.

A soft sob fell from your mouth as you finally gave into your pleasure, your mouth wide open as you started to groan loudly. Your stomach felt like it was being penetrated, but it didn’t hurt at all, or you didn’t register that it was hurting.

Their hands squeezed and groped your body, their lips kissing every inch of your skin as you let out another sob. “Fuck, fuck! I-I gotta cum, I need to cum, please let me cum!”

Both Peters basically laughed in unison, a groan falling from your Peter's lips.

“Cum. We have until that portal gets figured out to fuck you.”

I do not ever give consent to my work being published on other platforms or being translated at any point, even if it is a request. If my work is on any other platform, it’s without my permission. Your media consumption is not my responsiblity.

© asterias-record-shop

[ai-the-broccoli]

... Is Till's Part in "Cure" about Ivan?

now I'm really not sure about R2 in this regard (I've seen theories that it may be more about Ivan than it appears but I really haven't made up my mind on whether I agree or disagree), but what I do personally think is that Till's portion of "Cure" in R6 genuinely makes significantly more sense to me, lyrically, if it is -- at least partly -- about Ivan (consciously or subconsciously), than if it is 100% about Mizi and only Mizi from start to end, even though the MV only shows him thinking about Mizi as he sings the part.

let me explain:

Allow me, to the tips of your fingers Allow me, to the ends of your feet Dissolve me in your gaze I don't want to let you go Please, leave me scars Please, hurt me so that Not a single drop of me remains Let me drown in you

... idk, I feel like if this is indeed entirely about Mizi, Till must have made up a lot about their relationship in his mind by that point because it sounds kind of strange to me otherwise. Mainly because while they are sort of friends and have had friendly interactions, it seems that they are not especially close (based on Mizi's words about Till in the artbook), and what Till carries for her is a somewhat distant & idolizing crush sort of thing, which... isn't the sort of energy the lyrics gives?

Like. maybe this is just me, but I can view this portion two ways:

The singer is asking "you", the person being sang about, to hurt him, because he views "you" as someone who would indeed hurt them (e.g. maybe they have hurt him/harmed him/fought with him before; maybe they have a toxic or tumultuous relationship) and/or someone who is in a position where they have a reason/need to hurt him (e.g. going against each other on the Alien Stage); and/or,

The singer is asking "you", the person being sang about, to hurt him, because of his own self-loathing and depressive feelings -- but in this case this just. idk. to me at least, it sounds more like something you are more likely to sing about, like. someone you have been very close to at one point. e.g. a love interest or w/e, who has been in a romantic relationship or situationship or something in an ambiguous relationship with you -- or a closer friend, frenemy or someone like that, that you have complicated or untold feelings about. unless your idolized crush is someone you view as a person who would (hypothetically) hurt you, in which case it falls under 1... except Till's perception of Mizi just kinda doesn't feel that way to me

which. hmmm. idk because like Till's image of Mizi is someone kind, sweet, gentle, soft, comforting and angelic (even with the R5 stuff, we still see this in the way she's like in Till's eyes in Cure's MV), and she's an idol-like figure to him in that sense (and they are not... so 'close' that it feels like he would very naturally sing to her for her to hurt him out of self-flaggellation reasons), it has always been slightly jarring to me that he would sing about her like this, even back when I was sure he was singing about Mizi.

But if you interpret it as being about, or partly about, Ivan instead, then it feels more natural to me; they have a closer relationship, Ivan has hurt him/fought with him and stuff multiple times, and right now they are going against each other on the Alien Stage where the loser among them will be killed.

secondly:

Until these falling stars Are buried in the blur of time On your icy lips Read my soul Yes, my soul, oh, oh

If this is about Mizi: I guess it could be?? if "falling stars" are entirely metaphorical and/or refers to the rain actually... except, even in this case, I feel like it's very possible to interpret it as him subconsciously thinking of such a symbol / such imagery because of Ivan-related reasons.

If this is about Ivan: ...sorry what, "falling stars"? You mean like. a meteor shower?? Okay no yeah, that is literally a major memory he has with Ivan, not with Mizi. And this particular phrasing, "Until these falling stars / Are buried in the blur of time" does further suggest that this is very possibly about a memory that haunts him to this day. which. points to the meteor shower scene more than anything... yeah I honestly feel like this line ties back to Ivan no matter how I think about it.

in any case this is honestly just my opinion and I don't know if I'm right but. just a thought. I think Till might be singing a bit more about Ivan in "Cure" than it seems from a glance at the MV, even if he doesn't realize/acknowledge it himself

[exhaslo]

Hi I have a weirdly specific request for a Miguel fic! I was watching a fav movie Dirty Dancing and the part where baby and Johnny are practicing and they do the crawling to Love is Strange, I was wondering if you could write a one shot of the reader attempting to make Miguel less stressed at his office by dancing for him and when the “hey Sylvia? Yes Mickey?” Part comes on she’s crawling over to him and on his lap and smut ensuuuuues and he plays along cos he can’t help it. SO SORRY IF that’s so jumbled idk how else to describe it 🤷‍♀️

Sooooo, embarrassing enough, I've never seen Dirty Dancing. I could never get into those movies as a kid or even now. But I'll watch that scene so I have an idea of what you mean and I'll do my best to write it!

Also, sorry this was late!! I can't catch a break at both jobs for the holidays!

Warning: Minors DNI, dry humping, smut, almost caught, teasing

------------------------------------------------------------------------

No one liked working at Alchemax and if you did, you were insane. Alchemax was a company that would literally drag your soul down to the depths of hell if you even dared to relax. Shit, it was impossible to quit because the CEO would drug everyone who tried to leave. Especially if they were a good worker.

You fell into that group of good workers; however, you knew better than to quit. Once you saw some of your coworkers acting funny, you were stuck. At least you had something to keep you going at this horrible job.

Your sexy crush of a coworker, Miguel O'Hara.

You would do anything for that man. Give him coffee-check; help with a project you knew nothing about-check; stay hours late to help Miguel with an assignment-check. You were down bad for that man, and honestly, you were ready to make your move.

Miguel was a man of few words. He was one of the coworkers whom many avoided because of his resting bitch face. His tone felt cold and cruel, but hell, you loved that about him.

"He's pissed again," One of your coworkers whispered.

Your ears perked up, knowing full well that they were talking about Miguel. Already walking with a skip in your step, you went to Miguel's office with a nice large cup of coffee in your hands.

--------

Miguel threw his chair across the room, letting out a frustrated yell. Everyone in the lab had left already, leaving Miguel all alone in a fucked up lab. Breathing heavily to calm himself down, Miguel cussed before pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Miguel?"

Ah, music to his ears. Miguel inhaled deeply, listening to your sweet voice as you entered his lab. You were the most beautiful women he had ever laid eyes on. Oh how Miguel wanted to eat you up. To have you in his arms, crying out his name.

"(Y/N), brave as always," Miguel said softly.

You just smiled, handing him a cup of coffee. His hands grazing over your fingers just for a moment. Miguel felt the urge to hover over you, watching that creeping plush cover your cheeks.

"The others are just lazy wimps." You said with a chuckle. Miguel hummed in response as he took a sip,

"Indeed. Now I have to clean this mess and do a mountain of paperwork."

"Why don't you have the others clean?" You asked. Miguel glanced at you,

"Ha, and why would they do that?"

Miguel watched your smile turn mischievous . Oh, how he loved that look. You were such a trouble maker sometimes. Always giving Miguel a rise with your antics. Another thing that Miguel loved so much about you.

"Weeeeell, maybe because you are suuuuch a genius and everyone wants to willow at your feet." You teased, bumping your hips against his, "How about I help you with your paperwork later?"

"So you aren't going to help me clean either?" Miguel hummed, resisting the urge to grab your hips.

"Nope~ I have a report to finish."

Miguel watched as you skipped out of the lab. Your ass swaying ever so slightly. Damn, Miguel wanted you bad. Licking his lips, Miguel just closed his eyes and relished your fleeting presence. He was going to have to be patient until later.

---------

You held your cheeks as you paced back and forth in front of Miguel's office. Everyone had gone home for the day expect the two of you and now you were about to seclude yourself in a small room with him. You had already planned this all out.

But you were still nervous.

"Wow, that really is a lot of paperwork." You whispered, entering the office. Miguel scoffed,

"I told you,"

You huffed your cheeks out since Miguel had his stressed tone. Slowly approaching him, you kept a smile as you readied your plan. Miguel kept watching you, wondering what you were doing as you placed your phone on the counter.

"(Y/N), music isn't going to help." Miguel said with a soft sigh.

"Not with that attitude."

You swayed your hips with the music and stroked your hands across his shoulders. You could feel Miguel tense up. With a soft pull, you motioned Miguel towards you and kept dancing to the rhythm. Miguel was still not moving with the groove.

"Loosen up, let your body do what it wants,"

Miguel felt a shiver run down his spine as he followed your movements. To let his body move to how it wants? Hopefully you won't regret those words. Placing his hands against your hips, Miguel felt drawn to you like a drug.

"There we go, but someone is a little handsy~" You cooed.

"Moving to the music," Was all Miguel whispered.

You felt your heart race as Miguel's hands kept roaming your body. You teased him and pulled his hands back a little, which ended up with his face near your chest. Immediately letting go of his hands, you bit your lower lip as Miguel grabbed your ass.

"Eyes up here," You sang, moving his hands away.

You shuddered softly as Miguel brought his face to your belly. You gently raised his chin, making eye contact with Miguel. He looked different. You weren't sure what it was, but it was starting to turn you on. This dancing was getting sexual.

Miguel's hands were groping you ass and stroking up to your stomach. You shuddered once more, moving his hands again. Miguel licked and kissed your stomach, making you shiver.

"Miguel," You muttered, gently moving him away.

Miguel inhaled deeply, as he moved away from you. As you kept dancing, Miguel kept his eyes on you. He got on his knees and knew that this was going to be hard for him. He was losing his control against you.

"Hey, (Y/N)" Miguel hummed to the tune. You turned towards him, sliding over,

"Yes, Miguel?"

"Could you call me your lover boy?" Miguel's smirk started to show as he sang to the song. You pressed your body against his chest,

"Yes, lover boy?"

Like instinct, Miguel grabbed your face and brought you in for a deep kiss. Neither one of you hesitating as your tongues started to battle each other. You crawled onto his lap, straddling him as Miguel won the battle of your tongues.

You moaned softly as Miguel kept his kisses against your neck while his hands kept wandering your body. You felt like you were on fire. Everything Miguel did was turning you on more and more. Gasping softly, you started to rub your hips against Miguel's crotch as he kissed your chest through your shirt.

"That's not in tune to the music," Miguel hummed.

With a bite, Miguel undid your button down shirt and bra with his teeth alone. You were surprised and honestly, impressed. Complying with his demand, you started to grind to the music as Miguel kissed and sucked your nipples.

"Hah, hey lover boy~" You hummed to the music. Miguel picked you up and laid your back against his desk,

"Yes?"

"You aren't going to fuck me to the rhythm are you? Because I don't think I can last that long," You chuckled. Miguel smirked to your response, his hands already working on your pants,

"Is that a challenge?"

You wanted to whine and complain, but Miguel had continued his kisses and grinds. Once he undid your pants, Miguel made sure to do the same to his. His dry humping getting a bit rougher and faster as he kept playing with your breasts.

You flung your head back from the friction, moaning in the process. Who would have known that your plan was going to work so well. Arching your back, you cried softly as you felt your growing orgasm. Miguel was rubbing you in just the right spot.

"Miguel~" You moaned out, trying to move your hips more.

Miguel grunted softly as he made quick work of your panties. He immediately stopped rubbing against you and brought his fingers to your swollen clit. His lips captured yours again as he rubbed against your sensitive bud, bringing you to your first orgasm of the night.

"Miguel, are you still here?" One of your coworkers knocked.

With haste, you dropped down under the desk while Miguel turned off your phone. He cleared his throat as your noisy coworker entered and simply dropped off more paperwork. Once he left, Miguel leaned back and groaned towards the sight of you.

"Maybe we should get back to work?" You said with a soft chuckle. Miguel glanced at his paperwork, then you,

"Hm, perhaps." With a smirk, Miguel placed the music once more, "You can still help me be my desk while we work."

"Desk?" You questioned. Miguel grabbed your hand and placed you on his lap, "Ohhhhhhhhh,"

"Let's see how long we can last staying in tune, hm?" Miguel hummed as he brought you in for a kiss while rubbing your clit once more. You pressed yourself against his chest,

"Not long."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

I hope you enjoyed this! I had to rewatch the scene from that movie a few times to try and understand the movements, haha.

@tojishugetiddies

[abcwordsurge]

hey so I made this little thing. feel free to use for. whatever

explanations and examples under the cut

wearing each other's merch is just. one of my favorite things. whether by coercion or choice, it's funny and sweet. to me

michigan with ohio's blanket is pretty specific, but it shows up in two of my fics (chapters 12 and 13 of "minnie's scrapbook," and my "van horn" duology), so I figured I might as well include it

everyone else knows: even when ohio and michigan are blinded by their rivalry, the rest of the states (or at least the midwest) are not oblivious to their mutual crushes!

love confessions is pretty generic- as are literal sleeping together, h/c, fluff, angst, and smut- so I'm going to skip past this

ohio and michigan mending old wounds is very special to me. I don't have much of it myself (what can I say? I'm a fluff writer), but it's great to see how others do it. @xechoecho88x is very good at this <3

historical fics are more common than usual for this duo, I think, simply because of the fandom, and the past of these two states. I myself have indulged in writing fics rooted in history a few times, especially "tell me do you hate me" and "or do you want to date me," or as I like to call them, my "van horn" duology)

bickering!! really, is it an ohio / michigan fic without some bickering? (banter might also fall into this category, if done a certain way, haha)

us writers in the wttt fandom have a specialty in repressed feelings, I think. it works particularly well for these two because this is definitely the type of relationship where denial comes first, and far be it from them to admit they care about the other

watching movies together is another one that I included because I realized that it happens strangely often in my fics. notably, "classic hallmark" and "so wrong it's right."

nicknames!! a highly debated topic by ohiogan scholars. (other highly debated topics include the infamous ohiogan vs ohiomich debate. /lh) what various names does ohio use to avoid saying "michigan"? does michigan call ohio "buckeye" or "buckeyes"? (I'm in the minority here; I think it's "buckeyes." it just rolls off the tongue better.) whatever the nicknames might be, if they're in the fic, you can mark it on the box

ofc, I would be remiss to not include The Game. this is the basis on which I ship them. every year ohio state and university of michigan fans meet up to fight to the death- or at least to the end of the fourth quarter. it's football. I'm talking about football. whether it's a scene in the fic or just the basis of their teasing, it's so much fun to read and write. go bucks!

ruining the relationship is another one that I included for @xechoecho88x. (sorry for adding you twice in the same post. I can't help it that you impacted my ohiogan heart so strongly)

there are plenty of fics inspired by music in general, but there's something special about ohiogan fics inspired by music. and I just love writing fics with song titles, ok? I have the aforementioned "van horn" duology, "(never) let you go" (title from "mary on a cross," inspired by an edit from @mittenstroll), and "so wrong it's right" (title from "to my enemies" the theme imo of these two). there's also @xechoecho88x's marvelous "singing until the end." (sorry for adding you again, echo!)

only one allowed to hurt you is me: I love the ohio and michigan rivalry, but you know what I love more? ohio and michigan being protective of each other. it just does something to me /pos

ohio has his whole thing with not saying michigan's name, so there's something special about moments when he does. I myself have used this trick many times. I just can't get over ohio saying it- whether by accident or intent- and michigan's reaction is just- cjskmslslspwl. they make me feel things

yes, I have another box about them being protective of each other. can you blame me?

aspec michigan was another one I did for @xechoecho88x. (I swear this is the last time I'll add you!) it's just. aspec michigan heals me. ohio being supportive of aspec michigan is even better

toledo war mentions, well, how could I not include this? whether it's a historical fic or they're mending the rift between them after the fact, I love when there are reminders of their past <3

go forth and enjoy ohiogan. they are so so special to me

[amazon160]

Lord Shen headcanons cus I said so

(I finally rewatched the movie 🤭)

You guys.

You guys.

I finally rewatched Kung Fu Panda 2.

HOLY CRAP.

Three things reawakened inside of me--

One, an understanding of my obsession with Tigress as a seven year old watching the first KFP.

Second, the GOOSEBUMPS I got from that score. IT WAS INSANE, I’m putting this right next to How to Train Your Dragon on the list of “Movies I wish I could watch for the first time again” (I’d break down sobbing at LEAST five times)

Third, my strange fascination with Lord Shen.

Was he one of my first fictional crushes? Sadly, yes.

Am I ashamed? Of course, sadly, yes.

Was he the worst one? Sadly….not even close.

But we’ve all stooped down this low at some point. So let me just live my life and do this thing cus I think it’s funny

-I’m gonna follow the cringe royalty x reader path here

-He spoils you, a lot.

-And he doesn’t take no for an answer

-Shen is either the definition of clingy or just “no one come near me or you will be SLAUGHTERED”

-I’m following the yandere route, so he’s clingy

-You don’t go anywhere without an escort whether it be him or a guard

-Watch his mood VERY. CLOSELY. You don’t want to catch him in a bad mood and push his temper

-He gets jealous very easily and is one bipolar mf

-One moment he’s getting angry at you for making eye contact with him, the next he’s mad that you’re scared of his hugs :(

-Shen will attack anyone who lingers on you longer than he’d like, and only twice have you convinced him to spare someone’s life.

-He either HATES hugs or absolutely NEEDS them

-But either way he does need one thing…

✨THERAPY✨

-He ain’t getting it

-Thinks it’s for the weak minded lol

-So two months and one Stockholm syndrome later, you finally adjust to the bipolar mf’s tendencies

-Now you blame YOURSELF for when he decides to snap

-Everyone else can see it’s bs

-Shen’s precise with everything he does, and it’s very evident with what happens in the movie

-Manipulative when he needs to be

-He puts on firework shows for you

-Interpret that how you will

(he used fireworks as inspiration for his weapons…but it could also be a literal firework show)

-B O N D A G E

-idk I just wanted to write that down

-it’s not even relevant

-B O N D A G E 👹

-yea that’s pretty much it, unless I come up with some new ones

-then you’re getting a part 2 ✌️😛

[darlingmbappe]

Innocent Offer | Kylian Mbappé x Fem Reader

Summary: Kylian begrudgingly admits his lack of sexual experience to you. As a good friend would, you offer him some help. Based on this request.

Warnings: Literally just smut, so minors don't you dare. Keep scrolling, nothing to see here! Virgin!Kylian, experienced!reader. Oral (male receiving), friends to lovers kinda, cussing. This was repurposed from another fic I wrote while I was in another fandom. I'm 99% sure I fixed all of the names/inconstancies. It's a little short, sorry guys! Let me know if I missed anything! — English is not my first language —

Masterlist

“You’re lying.” The accusing words come out of your mouth through a smirk. The boy sat across from you leaning on the headboard of the huge daybed in his gameroom with crossed arms, avoiding your gaze after having just admitted something he never thought he would. Especially to you — the girl he’s been silently (but heavily) crushing on for at least an entire year.

Kylian scoffed, pinching at a loose thread on his T-shirt sleeve. “Now, why the hell would I lie about that?”

You sit on the same bouncy mattress he did, leaning on one arm while you try to catch his eyes. He’s clearly embarrassed — not that he has to be. You didn’t want to make him feel bad about it, but couldn’t help yourself from making sure you heard him right.

“You’ve never gotten a blowjob?” He purses his lips as an answer. “A handy?” He shakes his head slightly, trying to focus on anything but your interrogation. “Not even before...”

He throws his arms down in frustration. “No, alright? Let’s just make it clear that no girl has ever seen my dick and move on. Please.” He snaps in a mumble, feeling slightly humiliated at the topic of conversation.

Your hands raise in defeat, committing yourself to dropping it for his sake.

You haven’t known Kylian for that long, a little over a year at most. What began as an acquaintance through friends of friends developed into a strange friendship of its own. After getting formally introduced to each other four times at separate events and droning ‘we’ve met’ each time, there was a sort of unspoken fellowship. Once you finally got to speak at someone's birthday party at the open bar, you two didn’t stop for hours. Laughing and trading stories until your separate groups dragged you both away. Now, you see him constantly. You were always getting those 'come over' texts the second he got home from training. You two just clicked.

You watched his chest rise and fall as he did his best to focus on the giant TV mounted on the wall, giving your eyes time to feed on his tense shoulders, his exposed collar bone begging to be kissed.

You wanted him to relax; you’re not judging him, you just couldn’t believe he was a virgin. He’s just so confident… and so goddamn sexy. You were actually kind of convinced he was a man-whore. You’ve seen all these women throw themselves at him over the course of just one year, but you never thought about the fact that you’d never seen him go home with any of them until just this second.

The words ‘no girl has ever seen my dick’ echoed in your head, your thoughts have been reduced to more perverted ones. You cared about Kylian so much and you noticed the way he looked at you sometimes, so you tried to be flirty and let him know that you were very much interested... but he would turn away and get shy about it each time. You just assumed he wasn’t into you and cut your losses, satisfied enough with a close friendship with the global star. Now, you’re thinking maybe he wasn’t uninterested, just flustered.

You crawled up the bed and sat next to him shoulder-to-shoulder, leaning your back on the headboard. He stayed completely still as he felt the heat of your body next to his, wishing he had just lied or something. 

Kylian looked back at his lap. “Will you stop looking at me like that?” You furrow your eyebrows, his words snapping you out of your own head. “It’s just… My whole life I've been so focused on becoming the world's greatest football star and then… I don’t know. Time flew by and all of the sudden I’m twenty four and still a…” He cuts himself off avoiding the V-word, simultaneously contradicting his whole let’s move on plea. He gulps, fiddling with his ring as if he had never seen one before. “I… I’m not going to be any good at it and I feel like women have all these expectations while sleeping with a football player, and I don’t want to embarrass myself. At this point I have to wait until it’s someone I trust, but I don’t have time for a relationship. Maybe I’m thinking too much about it.” He shrugs. “It’s not on purpose, is what I'm trying to say.”

You can’t seem to look away. He’s flustered and cute while he chews on the inside of his cheek. Maybe his shy confession has you wanting to take care of him, or maybe the infatuation you’ve suppressed for so long is coming back up to the surface; whatever it was drove you crazy. Crazy enough that you couldn’t stop yourself from saying something so bold. So direct. So out of character...

“Can I give you a blowjob?”

Kylians eyebrows shoot up, whipping his head to the side to finally meet your eyes. You could see him searching for any form of malice, he wondered if you were pulling some sadistic prank on him.

Maybe he didn’t hear you right – it was the only explanation he could come up with.

He opened his mouth to ask, but absolutely nothing came out. His lack of response kept you on the edge of your seat, giving you time to think about what you had just offered. It was ridiculous, inappropriate… he was going to think you were a weirdo. But you couldn’t back out now, it’s already out there. 

“Wh—uh. I… Me?” He eventually stuttered, a blush creeping up his neck and cheeks.

“Who else could I possibly be talking to, Ky?” He just continues to stare. “Look, if you don’t want that, we can just pretend I never said anything.”

“No! I mean… yes. I mean…” He laughed awkwardly, shifting slightly to face you. Your brows pinched together, confused at his mixed response. “A-are being serious?”

“Dead serious, Mbappé.” You could see he was conflicted. You give him a few seconds to think before speaking again. “I know what you’re thinking, and I’m not just offering because you’ve never had one before. I want to do it for you. I wanna make sure you feel comfortable with the person. No judgments.” The idea of making Kylian moan sends a shiver down your spine. You see him gulp. “But, again, say the word and we’ll forget about this.”

His eyes are so wide looking into yours. “Y-you’re sure about this?” You nod, smiling and taking his hand into yours on his lap. “Then… yeah. Hell yeah.” Kylian grins, the rosey color deepening on his cheeks. He knew he would have to be an idiot to pass up this offer.

With his clear consent, you bite your lip, looking down at your locked hands and extending your fingers to free them from his lazy grip. You began to rub his palm softly, letting your finger graze off onto his jean covered thigh, going over his exposed skin through one of the rips. You applied more pressure as you slowly let your touch get closer to his crotch — Kylian’s breath hitched every time you made your way up.

You sat up on your knees and straddled one of his thighs, you continued your movements with both hands now. Looking up at him, his eyes were barely open but they stayed on you.

“You can tell me to stop at any time, okay hun?” The nickname was new, but felt right in the moment.

“Don’t.” He choked out, his hands now resting on the sheets.

Your right hand finally settled on his semi. The second it landed there he grunted, shifting himself lower on the matress. You wanted to kiss his parted lips, glistening with spit as he quickly went over them with his tongue.

You leaned in but landed your kiss on his neck just below his jaw. You wondered if anyone had ever kissed him there before as you bit the skin gently, earning a muffled groan and another gulp from the man underneath you. You continued a path of wet kisses and hickeys all over his neck, his semi now almost completely hard in his jeans. Pulling back, you looked at Kylian— his eyes threatening to close but prying themselves open, the dim light from his lamp making your spit glisten on his bruising neck. His breathing was quick and heavy. Seeing him like this under you makes you realize… you’ve got it bad for Kylian Mbappé.

Kylian couldn’t believe the sight in front of him. He must be having another one of his wet dreams or maybe took a ball to the head and was hallucinating. He had to reach out and grab your waist to confirm that this was reality. It was actually happening.

Slowly, you pop open the button on his jeans, pulling down the zipper. His erection was begging to be let loose and from what you had felt, he was definitely packing. When he lifted his hips to allow you to pull the material down to his mid thigh, leaving only his blue checkered boxers, you got your first real glimpse at what you had gotten yourself into.

You let out a soft ‘mhm’ as you let your forefinger touch his tip through his boxers, feeling the warm wetness of his precum against the pad.

“Ah, Dieu.” He breathed, digging his fingers into your hips. “Just so you know—hha, putain—I probably… I definitely won’t last long.”

You can see the apologetic look under his hooded eyes already. “Kyks, I’m not expecting you to.” You began playing with the hem of his boxers, lifting his shirt enough to see his belly button, letting your nail scratch at the minimal scruff of his happy trail. “I don’t want you to worry about that, okay?” He nodded, his warm palms rubbing your outer thighs. “I just want you to enjoy it.”

Blowjobs were kind of your thing. Your asshole ex made sure you knew how to give really good head, which was funny since he never once bothered to learn where your clitoris was. Either way, this was your area of expertise — your sexual superpower, if you will.

You pulled his boxers down, watching his length pull down until it released and sprang up, slapping Kylian’s belly.

Holy shit.

“Holy shit.” You said out loud. What a nice cock Kylian had. Long, slightly thick, a perfectly irritated mushroom head twitching against his soft skin. It definitely would be a challenge.

You palmed up his erection in one swift movement, immediately hitching Kylian’s breath, his eyes glued to your every movement. You wrapped your fingers around his tip, letting your thumb spread around his juices. You laid down between his legs, your face now inches away from his throbbing cock.

“Ready?”

“God, yes.”

Your tongue pressed flat against his slit, swirling around and tasting him like a lollipop. He moaned and threw his head back, the sound he made going straight to your aching pussy. The floodgates have opened between your legs with just the first lick, causing you to hum against him.

“Christ, (Y/N).” He hissed at the vibration.

You pulled off for a second, spitting down onto him, using your hand to spread the moisture to make it easier to take him all in. Because you were determined to take every inch of him.

Lowering your head back down, you hollow your cheeks and create suction. He shivered with a harsh exhale and reached to hold your hair back so he could see your face sinking into him.

The second your hands moved to play with his balls, he jolted. “Shit!”

You popped him out of your mouth quickly and concerned. “You don’t like that?”

“Jesus, I love it. Feels so good, amour. So fucking good.” He quickly insisted, involuntarily jutting into your hand that was wrapped around him.

With a smirk upon hearing the nicknames he called you, you took him back into your mouth and continued to squeeze his sack, bobbing your head up and down with your tongue pressed flat against his length, his eyes pressing closed with a loud moan. You looked up at him through your lashes until his eyes finally opened and met yours. Taking this opportunity, you shoved him all the way down your throat, your lips pressing against his pelvis, your nose buried in his bush of neatly trimmed hair.

He gasped then moaned, trying to form a coherent praise for you, but it came out muddled between huffs of air. You shook your head slightly against him suppressing your gag reflex as he continued to mumble incoherently under your grasp. You came back up for air, jerking him off as you stared at him… so pretty. “I- I can’t… merde. I’m gonna cum soon if you pull that shit again.”

“Am I making you feel so good, Ky?” You innocently asked.

“The fuck do you think?” He jokingly retorts at his disheveled state, making you giggle. “So good.” You had begun sucking on one of his balls, licking and swirling it in your mouth. Both his hands lifted to cover his red face and his tummy moved quickly with every breath.

You licked a stripe back up to his tip, taking all of him back your mouth without warning, deepthroating him once again. His tip pushed back behind your uvula and you were quickly bobbing your head up and down, letting his sensitive head rub back and forth against the back of your throat.

All you could hear was your gurgling sounds and Kylian’s loud huffs of air until his moans became more prominent. “I’m g-gonna cum—oh fuck—ahh!”

His warning wasn’t much of a warning, immediately feeling the hot spurts of white fill your mouth and trickle down your open throat. Your one hand squeezed his balls while the other scratched down his exposed thigh. He moaned and his whole body was twitching, squirming his legs around. You helped Kylian ride out his high until there was definitely no more cum left to give.

You lifted off of him gasping for air, swallowing everything he had given you. You looked down at his still twitching cock as it began to soften, wet with your spit and his own cum.

Now sitting up on your knees, you both caught your breaths until you broke the silence, growing impatient. “So..?”

His eyes peered into yours, a satisfied smile taking over his features. Broken between breaths, he finally spoke. “That had to be… the best blowjob… in the history… of blowjobs.”

You laughed, swinging your legs over the bed and stretching out your back. “Careful Kyks, you’re gonna give me a big head.”

“You just gave me big head.” He chuckled, pulling his clothes back to their rightful place.

You shook your head and blushed. “You’re ridiculous.” You looked at the time on your phone. “Shit. I'm late for my shift.”

He sat up as you hurriedly grabbed your things. You probably should have checked the time before you offered oral to your best friend.

“What—you’re leaving? You can’t leave… I didn’t even get to return the favor.” He argued.

“I didn’t realize that was part of the deal.” You quirked a brow as you put your boots on.

“I mean…” He blushed, watching your every move. “I’d like for it to be.” He stuttered.

You stood up smirking, walking to stand over him on his bed. Leaning down, you planted a kiss on his cheek, close to his mouth. “I’ll see you later, okay, big boy?”

You left him speechless when you walked out of his room, frozen in place. The touch of your lips against his skin invaded his body with goosebumps and then he realized: he never got to kiss you.

He knew now that no other girl could be his first. It had to be you.

Y/N: Short and filthy! So, like I mentioned, this was repurposed from an old fan account I had for a separate fandom a year or so ago. Love y'all!

Taglist: @trentione @mentalbaddie @neymarsrealgf @akiraquote @mrswhitethornbelikov @kymb-10 @formula101x @photmath @marcelineslove @tsikik @iheartkyky @freshfraise @jokertbh @germanapples @urfuturesoccerwife @nightlockcornucopia @laylaynaynay130 @starlight8374 @depressoesssspresso @mbappesbae @ maddyperrezz @gigiboss @xanjoy @lovekm @jkkiks @vvbasmavv-blog @suzysface @ lolarmy72 @lizzz2967 @kylians-world @superswaggycooch @shashla @mehrmonga @abayo222 @missmo79 @tties24-7 @gurleenkl @drewstarkeysbae @ vibinwkay @ctn26 @ippid @i0veless @abayo222 @b-bradshaw @http-isabela @zoeeeruiz @mitruscity @kenanlotus0 @mbapbaesluvr @alwaysclassyeagle @nhatquynh @philipetchebest @ricsaigaslec @dfswfvf @urfav-tz @kylianswag @fanatica2023 @alexisquinnlee-bc @megannandrewss @christianpulisic10 @pleasantducktimetravel @forevernightmaree @sachaa-ff @neymarloverxxx @4nn4rchive @lunamelona @m-uga @venomwh0re @edgyficuselastica @slaywhatyouwannaslay41 @pietromaximoffsbabe @krishnan-mbappe

[orange-foxes]

5️⃣ Laughter Is Infectious (The Best Medicine Remix) by moonix (4k)

Five times the Foxes tried to make Andrew laugh, and one time someone succeeded without even trying.

5️⃣ A Charmed Life by KatherineF (6k)

5 times one of the Foxes sees Andrew smile, and the 1 time all of them do. Or, Andrew Minyard is a huge softie for Neil Josten and he can't hide it.

5️⃣ boyfriend privileges by mostly_maudlin (4k)

Andrew knows he treats Neil different. So why is it so bothersome that everyone else seems to know it, too? Five times Neil gets boyfriend privileges, and one time it doesn't piss Andrew off.

5️⃣ It Went Like This by eldrvarya (11k)

5 foxes that worry Andrew isn't good enough for Neil (and find out he is) and one that knew all along.

5️⃣ Not Nothing by TheRainbowElectric (23k)

Five times Neil tells someone that he and Andrew aren’t dating, and one time Andrew uses his words to set the record straight.

5️⃣ louder than bombs (i break) by mitigates (6k)

A 5+1 of Andrew learning Neil’s five spots he liked to be touched in bed and the one spot he needed to be touched outside of bed.

5️⃣ growing pains by nightquills, Ominous (11k)

Stuart knows it’s perfectly normal for teenagers to have crushes. That’s why he’s not surprised in the slightest when Neil starts acting strange; lighter, happier. However, what he doesn’t expect is for the crush to leak into his everyday life—or literally take up residence in his house. Or: five times Stuart knew Neil was hiding a nighttime guest, and one time he actually met him.

5️⃣ 5 times realisation struck Neil & 1 time he acted on it by alex_wh0 (7,5k)

"Neil looked across the room at Andrew and felt a surge of affection so intense that it stuck in his throat. He wondered how someone who had rolled out of bed barely an hour ago could have the audacity to make him feel like this." or Five times Neil Josten had a realisation and one time he did something about it.

5️⃣ Anything But Quiet by lady_flash (16k)

Five times Andrew tries to be quiet, and the one time he lets himself be loud.

5️⃣ You go your way, I'll go your way too by emmerrr (20k)

Neil tries to leave it as long as possible to make his first phone-call to Andrew. He figures the longer he can go without hearing Andrew’s voice, the easier it will be in the long run. He doesn’t quite make it forty-eight hours. (Five times Neil calls Andrew after Andrew has graduated, plus one time Andrew calls Neil)

5️⃣ reckless/i like it by Willow_bird (27k)

One thing didn’t seem to have changed since getting off the drugs. One thing almost seemed to have gotten worse. ”The next time someone comes for you, stand down and let me deal with it. Do you understand?” “If it means losing you, then no.” --- 5 times Andrew realized this something he had for Neil was, well, treacherous + 1 time he admitted (at least to himself) that he liked it

5️⃣ men, abort mission (that is the silver lining in my cloudy disposition) by quensty (2k)

The recorded number of times someone hit on Neil Josten and got nowhere, and the one time Andrew didn't even have to try.

5️⃣ five times. by redblue (4k)

The five times Andrew doesn't say he loves Neil, and the one time he does.

5️⃣ Identity Theft by likearecord (5k)

The Foxes make a bet: will Neil really be able to tell Aaron and Andrew apart if Aaron is deliberately impersonating his twin? Or, Aaron Minyard's adventures in identity theft.

5️⃣ Brother of Mine by Paradoxolotl (12k)

5 times Aaron should have realized Andrew had somebody, and the one time he met him.

5️⃣ Assumptions by Exyissexy25 (22k)

5 times Neil thought that Andrew was pulling away, and 1 time Andrew realized that Neil is an idiot. Features Neil and Andrew learning to communicate.

5️⃣ Just Because I Can by NikNak22 (8k)

Dan and Neil exchange a look. Then Dan sighs, rubbing a hand across her forehead. “Great. Just what we need. A prank war. The last time the team faced one of those, I lost a dealer, a goalie, and someone was nearly blinded.” “All in one day?” Neil quips. AKA: Five times the Foxes were pranked, and the one time the prankster gets their due.

5️⃣ hold on to let go by djhedy, fuzzballsheltiepants, moonix (14k)

Five times Andrew and Neil reunite in the wrong place at the wrong time, and one time everything is just right.

[yuri-is-online]

Hi hope you have a nice day.

I’d like to request prompt 9 with azul , ace and epel

Please feel free to ignore this

9. You weren't technically invited to this event but it's a Masquerade! It's not like anyone will notice or care if you sneak in, so you do just that and find a really depressed friend of yours lamenting they won't get to dance with their crush.

My dear friend there is no need to be so shy, I asked for requests. You have no need to ask me to ignore you! Hold your head high, you are more than welcome here ⊂(・ヮ・⊂)

As a note I got a separate request for this prompt from Azul's pov which I still intend to write and post in addition to this, but if said requester wishes for an additional character they are more than welcome to send a message, there is no time limit on that.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, I could not for the fucking life of me find any of the music I wanted to use for Azul. No piano cover for the first song and then no instrumental version of "Part of Your World" from Dreamlight Valley; why that isn't on youtube when it is my literal favorite arrangement of the song I couldn't tell you smh. I did manage to find something close to it though... The rest of the event requests can be found on my masterlist.

Azul

Magic shmagic, you have got to be some sort of wizard with just how well you managed to weasel your way into this stupid party. No one had been checking invitations, probably assuming that no one without magic would bother taking time to make an elaborate ensemble just to get their hands on some prime snacks. Clearly they underestimated the great responsibility bestowed upon the owner of a set of tupperware. You would have added "and a cat monster" but you are not stupid enough to think you own Grim.

Or humiliated enough to suggest that he owns you, but the less chances you take at making him sneeze and wake up to a suspiciously empty dorm the better. You didn't need him storming the castle crying about how he woke up all alone and was scared wasn't invited. Not that you hadn't considered that plan together before Crewel had made it extra clear just what the consequences would be for that. The food tables are positioned close to a balcony you had spotted earlier, empty save for a piano that you swear has to be desperately out of tune.

Or at least that had been what you thought on your way in. That clearly isn't true from the song that's snapped your attention away from your mission towards it. You know the song that's being played, or at least you think you do. It causes some strange cognitive dissonance in you, you try to tell yourself that it simply can't be real, even as the words bubble up in your throat trying to make up for the missing instruments. The person playing it somehow makes the dissonance worse.

Azul, because it has to be him, no one else has eyes quite as lovely even if they seem strangely sad behind his mask, clearly is not expecting to be observed. He is far too relaxed, too caught up in some strange thought playing a jazz song so hauntingly out of place against the classical background of the Masquerade. If you were yourself tonight, you would think about reaching out to close the gap, but to do that would be to give yourself away, put you firmly in the tight grasp of his debt that you will likely be powerless to repay.

And yet, he looks to see you anyway, the edges of his lips flickering into business as he surprisingly does not stop playing. Instead he moves the piece into one he thinks "you" will recognize before finishing with a flourish.

It is all you can do to clap politely so as not to drop all pretense. "I am sorry for interrupting you." You try, but you know as well as he that disguised or not, Azul will not let you off this easily.

"Oh it's no trouble really." He stands up from the bench with a flourish. "I was just helping myself, really what were the hosts thinking leaving such a lovely piano out here all alone? It's practically begging to be played."

"Of course." You hope, not with much optimism, Azul doesn't notice you looking for an exit. The last thing you want is a reason to be more awkward around your handsome classmate than you already are. "You chose such a unique song for it too, I couldn't help but be distracted." He falters, fingers dropping back to the keys gently running over them in a strange show of emotion.

"it is isn't it." He states it, more to himself than you as you beat away the unhelpful desire to describe his playing as "out of this world," not wanting to deal with any judgment later. The look Azul has on his face can almost be described as... fond as he continues to speak more to himself than you. "A... friend of mine taught it to me. I have been practicing it for them. For tonight." You almost ask who he is referring to, afraid he might mention some other poor lost soul from another world because you certainly do not remember teaching him any music let alone that song. You have a vague memory of playing something at Floyd's request, but that had been ages ago, and Azul had certainly not been there.

At least not in your line of sight.

"I should let you get back to them then." You say lamely, hopefully Azul will pass that off as disinterest in his personal affairs and let you go. This is starting to get bad for your heart.

"They're not here sadly. No thanks to me, if only they had thought to ask for my help..." He returns to the piano, so genuinely disappointed you are almost angry at yourself for not thinking to ask this poor man who certainly only would have asked for your last dance and not your soul or first born. "It's got to be an important song to them if they remembered how to play it... right?"

Or maybe he would, just in a more romantic way. He certainly seems more focused on the phantom of you than anything else and that has to be some sort of accomplishment. It is all you can do to swallow your guilty conscious enough to leave with your disguise in tact.

Ace

"Yuu! Oi why are you running I knew you would-" Ace's hand stops just in front of you, his smile and optimism completely gone with his brain cells apparently as he retreats. "Ha, sorry." His places his hand behind his head casually, voice dropping to that similar serious tone as it had earlier in the night when he had asked for you to tell him he looked good. "Thought you were somebody else."

"Sorry." You really mean it, as much as you just want to shake off the disguise and let him know he was right that would be way too dangerous. Everyone knows you were not invited, and everyone knows his behavior around you. No matter how much your heart sings that he saw through you, it would get him into so much trouble if he was suspected of helping you in this little adventure.

"Nah it's not your fault, I'm just annoyed." Ace has apparently decided that you are his new old friend for the evening anyway, bracing himself against the pillar with a huff as you give into temptation to stay with him just a bit longer. "Seriously it is going to be such a pain later! Deuce is all like 'we should enjoy ourselves the prefect will be mad if we let them ruin it for us.' Please like I would want my friends to be celebrating when I'm not there."

"You're not your friend though." You try to not laugh as you say it because of course that's what Ace would say. You can easily picture him sulking if it had just been Deuce and you who were off to a Masquerade all while acting like he is truly not bothered as soon as you pay him any attention. "It's not like it's your fault they're not here."

"Ha, sure feels like it." He is back to being oddly serious, you can't decide if you just think the attitude doesn't suit him or are angry he is spilling his guts to a masked stranger and not the real you. He has to know you would listen, but then maybe that's the problem. "You have to have that one friend who never sticks up for themselves right? Everybody does. Just don't make the mistake of- well they're stupid difficult to look after but someone's gotta do it right? No shame if you end up liking them."

"Oh yeah of course." Ace is going to never speak to you again if he figures out this is you. Or if he knows you were thinking about him when he started complaining about having a "friend" that's hard to look after. "No shame at all, really it's annoying how much cuter it makes them."

"You get it." He nods then remembers he is supposed to be the laid back guy in your friend group and returning to his "normal" attitude. "I mean who doesn't understand that? Seriously how tropey can things get sometime, like who still falls for their best friend anymore? How stupid does life think I am- look," he claps you on the back before steeling himself to head off back to where you assume Deuce and the other members of the Heartslabyul crew are, "you see any out of place, magicless prefects you bring them right to me yeah? They owe me a dance for all the headaches they've caused me this past year. And you had best bet I intend to collect." And just like that he's gone. Off to his friends, probably to poke Riddle some to ignore just how vulnerable he decided to be tonight.

And leaving you silently screaming into the night.

Epel

"SHHHHH!" Epel's a deceptively strong guy, it's something he would probably be bragging about right now if he knew you were thinking it. Well maybe not just right now, he has his hand roughly over your mouth as his eyes dart from side to side begging that it's just Vil that's on his tail and not Rook.

Something you are equally begging god for because there is no way that freak of nature is going to not recognize you immediately. Not that you are 100% certain he would turn you in, but there is something extremely uncomfortable about being known to begin with let alone when you are supposed to be disguised. Finally, the specter of the Queen passes by your little nook and Epel lets you go with a sigh.

"M'sorry." Epel is looking up at you like a kicked puppy, you can't tell if it's intentional or he really is just that remorseful. The two of you float towards the tempting fresh air of the balcony, Epel pouting up at the sky as if he is a princess about to break into song about how boring his life is and how if he could just run away into the great yonder he would. "I just really don't want to deal with my Housewarden right now. He keeps say'n I should make the most of the night or else I'll shame Pomefiore, but I just don't care." Well that's not exactly news but still, maybe you can help him snap out of it so he doesn't get into a heap of trouble he'll be complaining about later.

"Aren't you having fun with your friends?" It's a simple first option, safe enough for you to say even though you are supposed to be a stranger. Epel lets out a somewhat predictable sigh, though the sheer force of longing hidden in the eyes you swear are almost shining is not something you expected.

"Well yeah, but a Masquerade like this is super fancy right? There's all these costumes, music fit for slow dancing, perfect thing ta' do with someone special." Epel relaxes, completely comfortable with what he's saying to a supposed stranger in supposed anonymity as if he isn't sending you spiraling with that little admission. "I was really countin' on Yuu bein here." He closes his eyes, almost as if he is imagining what he would be doing if you had been invited and weren't... sneaking around hearing him admit something he definitely did not intend to do like this.

"D-don't you want to dance?" You say it more to distract yourself than Epel, honestly you would love nothing more than to hear him talk about all the fancy things he wants to do with this allegedly special person, but you need an out before he figures things out. Before Vil figures out that Epel's really shirking things and sends Rook. Before-

"Aw yer mighty charmin' but I got my eye on someone already." before Epel makes it super clear just what it is he feels and leaves you no room for denial. You almost feel sorry for the hypothetical stranger you are, Epel looks so... happy when he talks about you. You're almost jealous of yourself. "Say, you got an eye for fancy things? It's gotta suck bein left out of the party so I wanna bring my friend somethin' special but I ain't gotta clue what to do."

"Yourself." You say softly, feather twitching just out of the corner of your eye signalling your que to leave. "If you want to bring your friend something special you should just bring yourself."

[beacarrot]

Yes, I think I'm doing it again. One day without you turned into a week, and soon it will become a month, but I refuse to let it stretch to a year, ten years… This text is another open letter to share my experience, especially the grief of losing Liam Payne.

I've been a One Direction fan since I was 14. I discovered the band because of Liam, who, back in his “fetus era,” looked like an Australian actor I had a crush on. One day, while browsing the internet, I came across the name “One Direction.” Honestly, I didn’t feel anything phenomenal in that moment; I had no idea how much that name would change my life and my youth as a whole. I didn’t imagine the hours of research, the nearly one hundred songs memorized, the posters, the fan theories I still hope are true, the Pinterest boards full of images, the photo edits of myself with the boys just to get a taste of what it might be like to be near those five special guys. Fanfiction, imagines… the list goes on.

In the beginning, I even mocked their songs, calling them cliché. A few months later, I knew all the lyrics AND the dance from “Best Song Ever" video clip. Life has a way of transforming our paths when we least expect it, when we’re lost enough for any path to seem fine. But life is generous and shows us the "right direction."

The truth is, it was October 16, 2024. I was coming home from school, crying, and, strangely enough, I had no idea that Liam had passed. I’d been introspective in recent days, reflecting on my last months at school and my amazing friends in class. I’d been listening to One Direction more than usual, and that very day I’d listened to “Stand Up”! I got home and was getting ready to go out again; it was almost 7 p.m.

I remember precisely: my mom looked at me with that expression she used to soften bad news, but it didn’t hide her own anxiety. She said, “I want you to hear this from me, but it’s not someone in the family.” I widened my eyes, jeans halfway on. I felt calm; if it wasn’t family, it wouldn’t hurt that much. But then she said it was something about the band and that one of them had fallen from a hotel balcony and was in bad shape.

My heart skipped one, two, maybe five beats. I don’t remember my tone of voice, but I know it was loud, trying to make my mom remember who it was. When she said “Liam,” I still thought, “Well, he just got hurt, but he’s alive, right?”

“Is he okay?” I asked, near panic. Truly, I wasn’t considering the possibility that he could have passed. But my mom’s words echoed: “No… unfortunately, he’s living with God know.”

My world stopped. I wasn’t even fully dressed, and I started shouting Liam’s name over and over, as if trying to confirm the reality, as if pleading for an answer from the heavens. I looked at the photo beside my bed, which I’ll include in this post, and messaged my friends who were also fans. I cried uncontrollably. I smoked so much in those days that I literally got sick, with a sore throat. Only my mom, my friends from youth group, and school saw my true state. Edu, thank you for putting up with my grotesque sobs on your shoulder. I adore you, friend!

The first night was a nightmare, a heavy and negative energy settled in, but I was clinging to the hope that with sunrise, something might change. But it didn’t. The sun rose, and I relived everything in my head, going over the story, just wishing it was truly a nightmare. I think no one has the right to talk about someone else’s pain. Grief is an individual experience, full of complicated nuances.

I’ve been alternating between suffering, crying to the point of dehydration, listening to the songs while every line hurts. There’s the denial phase, when it feels like it didn’t happen; that Liam is out there somewhere, and we’re still in 2012. Then, the reality drops like a piano falling. And there’s anger: “Is this real? He was so young!” And finally, moments of acceptance, when I smile at the memories and look at the photos, though I’m not completely there yet. Grief isn’t a straight line; you repeat and get lost in these stages, and no one should blame themselves for that.

People have lost the capacity for empathy and humanity. It doesn’t matter if Liam didn’t know me; I knew him. Not personally, of course—he had layers, and that’s one reason we couldn’t imagine how he was self-destructing. But he was a singer with an amazing stage presence, always sweet and attentive with the fans, a real warrior in his personal life, and he certainly made his share of mistakes. He lost his way on the crazy road of life, fame, money, media, relationships, addiction; it drained the hope from that 16-year-old boy who didn’t give up on "The X Factor". Liam is a legend.

There are days I can laugh, listening to the songs and remembering their silly dances, like when I watched “This Is Us” two days after his death. I thought I’d cry, but those boys never make me cry; they only make me smile. What makes me cry are the circumstances surrounding 1D. On other nights, I cry knowing there was nothing I could do. The closest I ever got to him was in a dream once, where the boys were having a party at my house. Liam was sitting in the corner of my room, the same spot where I was when I found out he’d passed. I walked over, asked him about Louis and Zayn, and hugged him. It was a sweet, protective hug. That’s my comfort: imagining his face painted in the beautiful blue sky, knowing he was lost and needed rest. I’ll continue with my contradictory life, and when things get hard and tough here on Earth, I’ll smile because he'll be far away and safe, no longer needing to deal with it all.

I’m still hesitant about watching his funeral online. Since finding out, I’ve stepped back from social media. It cleanses my soul to know I didn’t contribute to the hate, negative energy, dirty jokes, or nasty comments thrown his way, in real life or online. I learned from Liam; I let myself be touched by his essence, loving him completely, and I learned to see the world through the lens of songs and art. Words won’t be enough, Liam. This is not a defective goodbye. I still need you, and even if I can’t see you with my eyes, you’ll live forever.

I can't post something that is not just about it, but I will just continue posting some things because they were already ready before I knew about his death.

Gratitude and strength to all!

I don't like to put black pictures blank in these moments because I don't think it's right black and white because Liam brought and still bring so much color to us.

We love you Liam, our eternal red.❤️

[elvensorceress]

fuck it friday 😘

Hello lovelies, I know it's been a while and a lot of you have tagged me in fun things so I want to return the favor and I'm hoping to be around more now. I've also been trying really hard to finish up Unless. So, here. Have a snippet 😄

tags for my beloveds if you want to share something 💕 @eddiebabygirldiaz @hippolotamus @spotsandsocks @shortsighted-owl @bigassdiaz @monsterrae1 @suavecitodiaz @hoodie-buck @eddiescowboy @wikiangela @daffi-990 @mandzuking17 @favouritealias @ellelans @blorbodiaz @loserdiaz @gayedmundodiaz @giddyupbuck @spaceprincessem @eddiediaaz @wildlife4life @fiona-fififi @disasterbuckdiaz @911onabc @ronordmann @bekkachaos @chaosandwolves @shitouttabuck @theotherbuckley @wh0re-behavi0r @housewifebuck @the-likesofus @babytrapperdiaz @thespermdonorstorylineisstupid @texasbama @tulipfromtheinternet @theplaceyoustillrememberdreaming @messyhairdiaz @buddierights @astronaut-karenwilson @transboybuckley @sibylsleaves @megsvstheworld @gothambat-nephilim-07 I'm sure I've missed someone 🫣 I'm so sorry if I did! I love you all tons! And now some fun Unless finale... ❤️‍🔥

The whimper is louder and whinier this time. “I need you, too. I— Do you really— do you really want to have sex with me? Like, that’s actually a thing we could do? You’d be happy and okay to do that? Because Eddie. Eddie, I want you. God, I want you. But— but only if you really, seriously want that with me. Do you want— do you honestly literally seriously really really want to have sex with me?”

Eddie huffs a laugh. But considering— everything, it’s valid. Maybe it is that shocking and strange. The idea that Eddie could actually want sex. But it doesn’t feel wrong here. It’s not wrong here. They aren’t avoiding anything or trying desperately to fix something after it’s been shattered beyond repair. Buck isn’t pressuring him or demanding or even asking. It wouldn’t be out of an expectation or perceived requirement. It’s not for any reason but because they want to. Because they’re in love. And Eddie wants everything they could be to each other. 

He wants sex to be a good thing. Or at least a pleasant thing that doesn’t make him stupidly panic. He wants the intimacy of it, the affection and connection. Where they ignite heat and share pleasure because there’s something special and massive and sacred held between them. Letting his guard down, losing control, being that close to someone emotionally and physically, it’s okay if it’s with Buck. They’re already bonded and tethered and promised to each other. 

“Yes,” Eddie says softly, sweetly but firmly as he rubs Buck’s chest and runs his thumb along the hollow of Buck’s throat. “I want to be with you. I want to have that with you. I want you to—” He can do it. He can say it. He wants so badly. He lightly brushes a kiss over Buck’s lips and it might be Eddie’s new favorite way to kiss him because it inevitably makes Buck surge forward and respond by kissing him more. Before he can do that, Eddie follows the hint of a kiss with, “I want to make love with you.” 

Buck makes another wrecked sound and kisses him again, hard and deep, something pervasive, all-encompassing that Eddie could immerse himself in forever. Especially since Buck thrusts forward and it rubs a very noticeably hard cock right against Eddie’s own, not exactly soft one. Fast, crushing, electric heat jolts through his body. And Eddie jerks and arches further into him, tightening his hold on him, and moaning suddenly as he grinds himself on Buck. 

Buck is hard again. Not that Eddie is surprised. Of course Buck is ready and eager even after his solo session in the shower. But God, Eddie can feel him.

Eddie’s allowed to feel him. He can acknowledge that he feels Buck hard against him. He’s allowed to feel the same.

It leaves him aching and burning and simmering but held on the surface instead of submerged in the warmth. He needs this warmth. He needs Buck’s radiant daylight. Eddie’s been etiolated and grown in the dark for too long. He needs oceans of water and whole summers of sun because Buck is both. Buck is everything. 

A strangled, sobbing noise comes from the crook of Eddie’s neck and shoulder. Buck grips him harder and pleads, “Eddie, Eddie, Eddie,” as quietly as he can while twitching and tensing like he’s trying to hold back but doesn’t actually want to. 

Eddie squirms and grips him, and swears there’s pulsing and throbbing from the hot bulge pressing between his legs where he’s spread his thighs and needed to hold Buck close. 

Is this what it’s like? Is this what wanting and enjoying is like? Because he’s not sure he’ll survive it if that’s true. Buck is so hard and so obviously big and having him intimately pressed against Eddie is so, so good. It’s so good. Why is it so good? How is it so good? Eddie can’t comprehend, can’t think anymore. It’s only aching heat pooling and flooding through his body. He could be swept away and drowned and he still wants it. He wants all of Buck. He wants to let go and give Buck every part of himself. Eddie doesn’t even know how it’s possible at this point just that it is. Just that he loves and trusts, and he wants more and more even if it’s reckless and he knows proof of how much Buck wants and needs, too. 

And fuck, Eddie wants to make him come. What if he could feel Buck come? What if he could make Buck feel that good? It would be good like that. To give because it’s not a demand or a responsibility or false proof. To give because Eddie wants to. 

Would Buck moan and tremble and turn all flushed and sweaty and sticky and wet? Would he beg and turn Eddie’s name to litanies of devout affection? Could Eddie love him that way? He wants to love him that way. Every way. 

He wants to feel love like this. He wants this to be about love. 

It still sounds so flimsy and childish. To think of love as the thing that might change the experience. How could it be real and not made-up, fairy tale bullshit? But like Frank told him. Love isn’t just ~love.~ It’s their whole partnership, their history together, how they turn to each other with the worst things, how they take care of each other, look out for each other, how they laugh and cry together, how they think the world of each other, how being together brings them both stability, balance, joy, happiness. 

Maybe sex has always meant love to Eddie. Unrestricted, unlimited, unconditional, unequivocal. Where there’s no question or reservation any longer. He doesn’t need to crush his feelings and shut them down. They can live securely, freely, safely between the two of them. 

Eddie leans back but presses his lower half forward, so the way he’s growing hard and hungry is right against where Buck is also hard. He makes a fist in Buck’s hair and grips around his shoulders so he’s kept close. 

Buck falls into him, clutches Eddie’s back and around his waist, follows like he always would even if Eddie were trapped in the depths of hell. Buck’s eyes are dark, dark deep blue and hazy, full of adoration and longing. 

Eddie squeezes the fistful of golden brown hair, not to hurt or even tug, but just because he needs. Just so he can possess this love, this desire, these feelings, this everything. His precious beloved partner. “Can you feel how much I want you,” Eddie whispers and their lips drag over each other, hot, wet, and sticky. “I want you so badly. I’ve never wanted anything but you.”

Buck sounds like he might sob and fall to pieces. But Eddie can hold him together. He tips Buck’s mouth up toward his and kisses him hard and deep, all love and desperation, stoking every fire he’s never been able to touch. But he can feel it now. There’s heat and comfort and the promise of peaceful, blissful, glowing satisfaction through their connection. 

“Eddie,” Buck whimpers again and it sounds like worship and prayer, need and devotion. He pants hard like there’s not enough air. 

There isn’t enough air. The thing that needs to be in lungs. The things that are vital and essential and make Eddie alive. There’s not enough of it. 

Buck looks dizzy and already wrecked and Eddie can’t wait to see him when they’re finally stripped bare and fitted together. He wants to know. He wants to have this. They should have this. 

[luxyue]

knife boots — part iv.

xiao x reader, figure skating au

masterlist | previous | next

➥ NEW VOCAB ❝ loop ❞ an edge jump, taking off from a backward outside edge, and landing on the backward outside edge of the same foot.

iv. sigh, they're so oblivious

“Do… I have something on my face?”

A gentle voice interrupts your train of thought, which may or may not have been full of fantasizing about a certain dark-haired man who has literally been in front of your face this entire time.

“Are you okay? You seem, I don’t know, more spaced out lately.”

“Oh, umm...” Oh, if only he knew.

You told yourself that he was off-limits. That you were training together and that was it. That everything was strictlyprofessional.

But, unfortunately for you, the little crush that you had harbored for him during your first few years as a competitive skater has come back. Hitting you hard. Harder than your head has ever hit the ice during a bad practice. Lucky you.

It doesn’t help that he’s been noticeably kinder to you, ever since you begged him to help you. Although, that’s more likely because Xiao is actually kind of a nice person. Over the past few weeks, he’s probably been the harshest coach you’ve ever had… and he’s not even your real coach. But it’s evident that he truly cares about your well-being and progress.

Strangely enough, Zhongli, your actual coach, seems perfectly content with your arrangement, so much so that sometimes you barely see him throughout your day. Leaving you and Xiao alone. For hours.

Boop.

A finger pokes harshly at your forehead.

“What the heck—”

“Do we need to get you to the infirmary or something?” Xiao says.

What surprises you isn’t the fact that he just… poked your forehead, but rather the fact that he sounded genuinely concerned for you. Like, really concerned.

“I’m alright! Um, excuse me, just one second…!” And then you run off, faster than he can say ‘axel’.

Xiao is confused, to say the least.

…

You enter a safe zone that is definitely out of Xiao’s sight (the girls’ locker room), letting out a huge sigh of relief.

“Y/N? Are you okay?”

“Holy mother of—Ganyu! Hi!” you exclaim, not realizing that there was, in fact, someone else in the locker room.

“Sorry if I scared you,” she replies sheepishly. Ganyu also trained at the rink very frequently, although you didn’t see her in the mornings often. You vaguely remember her saying something about how she values her sleep more. You can’t blame her.

“Weren’t you with Xiao just now?” she wonders.

“Well, I was…” you’re not really sure how to explain what just happened.

“Is he being mean again? We all know he’s sort of a grump, but if it’s really that bad, I’m sure you could talk to Zhongli,” she suggests.

“Oh! No, actually, he’s been pretty nice to me, to be honest,” you say.

Ganyu looks at you, puzzled. “Xiao and the word nice don’t really go together. Sure, he’s not really mean either, but… what’s the word… he’s just, aloof. Shenhe, Keqing, and I have known him for years, and the most we say to each other is probably only ‘hello’ and ‘goodbye’,” she explains. “That’s why the three of us were so surprised when we realized how often you two have been together.”

You blink at her, unsure of what to say. Perhaps Ganyu’s words would only make you more delusional about him. Who knows.

“I can’t say he hasn’t had his asshole-y moments… but he’s not all bad. He’s helped me a lot, and… I owe him a lot, too,” you say.

She hums. “I can see that. Your triple lutz is looking amazing, by the way! I can’t believe you recovered all of your jumps so quickly. Honestly, I think he probably likes helping you. I can’t imagine what it’s like for him to have gone so long without a friend.”

You hesitate. “I’m not sure if he even considers us friends, to be honest…”

“Hm. Well, if anything, I think you’re the closest thing he has.”

“That’s… thanks, Ganyu.”

…

“Y/N! You’re okay. What was that, earlier?” Xiao exclaims, skating up to you. He’s close.

Like, really, really close.

Luckily for you, he seems to realize, and hurriedly backs away from you.

Luckily for him, you don’t notice the tinge of red on his cheeks, either.

“I’m fine! Don’t worry—and sorry about all of that, I think I was just tired. Anyway, ready to see me face plant attempting triple lutz-triple loop combos? Because I am—”

“Y/N, if you’re really that tired, then you should rest. There’s no use overtraining yourself,” he says sternly.

“Xiao, it’s alright, seriously.” You can’t help but add on, “Plus, I’m afraid my training partner will miss me, you know?”

This time, you do notice the violent shade of red that overtakes his face. You just don’t realize it’s not from training.

“Your face is all red. Maybe you should take a break,” you tease.

“That’s not… I’m fine. Anyway, you left your phone. It was ringing like crazy earlier,” he says, using the excuse to try to change the subject.

That’s odd. You changed your number when you moved here, and most of the people with your new one are all at the rink with you.

Curiosity killed the cat, and you check it. Thirteen missed calls, and a text from an unknown number.

“Is something wrong?” he asks, sensing your fear.

“It’s probably just spam or something,” you assure him.

It’s not.

‘They know, Y/N. Be safe. xx, CAT’

They know.

They know. They know.

Theyknowtheyknowtheyknowtheyknow.

Everything goes dark.

You’re lucky, though, and Xiao is there to catch your fall.

[destiny-in-the-universe]

Akira Cunningham: 9th Grade Kitsune

Alriiighttt, my lovelies, I figured I might as well try and make a comeback to the fandom by once more talking about my beloved future au "Akira Cunningham: 9th Grade Kitsune" for RC9GN.

I'm going to break this down into different sections, so it's a little easier but first - I wanted to thank my RC9GN mutuals, followers, and anyone just seeing my content every now and again for supporting me. It's been a trying journey, and yes, I'm also the world's biggest loser for how much I vent - and well, with the amount of I dedicated sharing my posts. Thank you for everything, and what's left in store... well, it's going to be an adventure, isn't it?

To start, here's a brief synopsis of the plot; Akira Cunningham - Randy's daughter - is selected to be Norrisville's next hero, only this time she's not the Ninja. This time, Akira is the Kitsune... because something is brewing, and it's going to take everything by storm. As Randy has long since retired the mantle of the Ninja, everything lies on Akira. Where one evil ended, another began. For evil can never be vanquished forever.

Read below the cut for more information!

The Cunningham (Extended) Family

Akira Cunningham is biologically the daughter of Randy Cunningham and Theresa Fowler. The late couple had been planning this for a while, deciding they wanted to have a kid and well, Akira was born

However - the other known fact of the extended Cunningham family, Randy doesn't have just one partner. During his late high school years, he got together with Howard as Randy's (bi) awakening led him to realize he had a thing for men. What blossomed from that, well, you're about to find out

Randy had been crushing on both Howard and Theresa, having decided to date them but then there was Debbie Kang. I'll get into the full schematics of their relationship later: the point is Randy, Howard, Debbie, and Theresa are in a polyamorous relationship

Having Akira was a decision made by everyone, and one thing led to another and she came into existence. Like, surrogacy but I am not a doctor so don't quote me on this

The (now) retired members of the new Norisu 9 all stay in touch which make them honorary members of the family

At the beginning of the story, Akira is meant to be young for reasons I won't be able to disclose just yet. Though, in the present timeline - she will be in high school, much like her dad Randy had been in once. She gets her mantle

As for everyone's jobs, Randy is a martial arts instructor as he earned enough inheritance to get by, Howard is a lawyer, Debbie's an investigative journalist, and Theresa happens to be in competitive sports (still has to do with baton twirling because why not-).

Arc One

Since the Ninja is a retired mantle as Randy- I mean the Ninja, took down the Sorcerer and closed the gateway into the Nine Realms, well, things were looking up. At least... in the beginning. For almost thirty years, the barrier between realms remained closed - without much use - and while certain nonhuman populations had begun living in Norrisville, danger remained at an all-time low. Unexpectedly however, the gates reopened (and strangely, without much explanation) and the yokai district began to flood onto Norrisville. Not all were of the friendly sort, but people didn't seem too concerned... then again no one expected what came next.

No one considered the possibility of gangs running amok within the city; let alone the fact that certain yokai had formed the literal yakuza, but what were they supposed to do? No one had seen the Ninja in such a long time - it would be near impossible to fight back, but there had been another mantle - lying dormant in hidden sight: The Kitsune. Only a yokai could take on other yokai. A cunning trickster. A nine-tailed fox.

Akira Cunningham was chosen to wield it, but apart from the yakuza - apart from yokai rampantly existing on the streets - there had to be someone pulling the strings. Surely... they weren't just wandering around for the heck of it.

Akira Cunningham

Akira does deserve her own post, without the added lore thrown in but then again - she's every way her dad's daughter. She has a good heart, even if some part of her wants to feel something greater - bigger - than herself. Akira's high, rambunctious, and spunky attitude, it's hard to nail her down as someone who displays interest in good deeds. Do not let this fool you, as she's also known for rushing in to protect her friends; even if she's also a little spiteful.

She has Howard's short temper and sometimes becomes frustrated, but I won't be able to dive much into this to keep spoilers from spilling. Akira dreamed of being a heroine when she was young, pretending to be the Ninja - acting like a young, hyper child wanting to be like Superman though who ever would've thought it'd become real?

Though... the journey is not hers alone. There is much more happening, and she can't do it all by herself. And that, my dear readers, is where I end this. More to come soon!