#answer the question. if that makes sense.

[gojosprettyprincess]

“Toji, look at me” Your breath hitched as you delicately reached to pull away his bulky forearm that was shielding his eyes. He cleared his throat with a raw sound as his exhausted eyes found yours. “Why won’t you look at me?”, you implored softly. The gentle tone of your voice was like a sweet melody to his ears that sent shockwaves through his spine.

How exactly could he look at you? His cock is twitching in his twenty-year-old girlfriend’s warm pussy and he’s aware of how wrong it is, that’s why he’s so shameful and guilty about it but you’re just so cute and irresistible that he simply can’t help it—Your presence alone overpowers his sense of propriety.

He knows he’s old enough to be your father, hell he’s probably even older than your father so that alone solidifies how inherently taboo it is to begin with. It’s so wrong and this shouldn’t be happening but fuck you’re just so pretty, there’s no dissent that you are an angel that graced him with your presence and beauty. “Do you love me?”.

You immediately felt the sensation of his hardened cock quivering against your velvet walls, growing even stiffer to your unexpected question. He couldn’t bear looking your way so he quickly looked away without making it obvious. You grabbed onto both of his big shoulders and squeezed them, signaling for his answer.

You began slowly rocking your hips back and forth, slowly grinding yourself on his lap as his weeping tip kissed more depths of your pussy. Soft moans escaped your parted lips from the bliss of pleasure. “Dadd—“

“Of course, I love you, Baby.” he finally confessed with a low sigh. His calloused hand reached up to tuck your hair behind your ears as he admired your beauty. You immediately let out a sweet moan from the intimate words you’ve been aching to hear.

“Okay”

[confused-squishy]

Okay, so I just thought of this.

DPXDC

Weapon Expert Danny Todd?

Part 2? Jason's POV

So imagine Danny waking up after running away from Amity Park (reveal gone wrong AU) only to wake up in a different dimension with a different identity. Like he wakes up in a hospital bed with Jason Todd, the 6'4, 260, tank of a man, worriedly and frantically shooting off questions about how Danny feels and if he's sore.

Danny has no idea what's going on. Instead of answering the asked questions, he just asks a few of his own.

"Uh... Who are you and where am I?"

Cue to Jason having an absolute mental down because his husband doesn't remember who he is and that he was almost killed. Jason carefully explains to Danny who he is and what happened. Apparently, the Danny of this dimension is heavily sought after by Heroes and Villains because of weapons he's made in the past.

This led to him being attacked because of some rouge (not the Joker because Jason would've killed the Joker during the time of his coma), wanting a weapon made by him, and he refused. Since he refused, the rouge nearly killed him for his "sass," according to Jason. Jason had found him barely alive in their warehouse, and all the weapons he was "tinkering" with were gone too.

While all this information notices something off with his surroundings. He didn't notice it at first, but there was a low off rhythm hum that was slightly echoing the hospital room. When Danny finally focused back when he realized where the humming was coming from. His husband and his core didn't look right.

Looks like Danny had to do some research. Because there were some things that just didn't make sense. His so-called husband had a half made ghost-core, the only weapons he knew anything about had to deal with ectoplasm, and there was a weird man staring at them from the roof on the building by Danny's hospital window that looked like an emo furry.

[y3sterdaysproblem]

the catalyst - c.s.

this takes place prior to the two final screenshots in part ten

cw: (almost) cheating, suggestive implications, chris being an asshole

wc: 4k

part of the fwb!chris series

no doubt about it, you had to be drunk if you were going to this party.

normally you would pull up to parties with chris, have him pick you up or at least meet you there and wait outside until you showed up so you could walk in together, but now with him talking to this new girl (lia, you found out), you had to show up by yourself. it wasn’t a problem, you were pretty independent in your every day life, but something about showing up to a party by yourself felt embarrassing when it’s been so long since you’ve had to. despite your feelings, you didn’t want to appear too affected by chris’s new situation he had going on, so you were still going to go, just after pregaming a little harder than usual.

on the ride over there, you almost found yourself wanting to ask the driver to turn around and go back home, not wanting to stumble into somebody’s house an hour after everyone had already shown up and draw attention to yourself and your obvious loneliness. you talked yourself out of it, though, continuing on the short drive until you had pulled up to the typical hang out spot, thanking your driver and getting out.

the door was unlocked as usual, and you pushed it open and went inside as quietly as you could, doing your best to walk past people you didn’t really know to make your way to the kitchen to grab another drink. you were barely two seconds into pouring a mixer into a plastic cup when you feel somebody step up next to you, and you don’t have to tear your gaze away from what you’re doing to know who it is.

“when did you get here?” he questions, standing so close to you your arms are brushing together. you don’t answer him until your drink is made, bringing it up to your lips to take a sip. once it’s swallowed, you turn your body to face him, eyes landing on his that are already watching you. “a few minutes ago,” you answer. “why, were you waiting for me?”

chris rolls his eyes and reaches forward to grab your cup from your hand, bringing it up to his own lips for a taste. he hands it back to you, grimacing at the sweet flavor. “god, you make the worst drinks,” he scoffs. “and no, I wasn’t waiting for you, was just surprised that you came so late, that’s all.” you take the cup back and let your fingers brush over his at the transfer, body already thrumming from how close you were, the feeling of pure want intensified by the alcohol already in your system.

your eyes hide nothing, giving away just how badly you wanted chris in the moment. you thought you’d be able to keep it under control, but with him standing so close and looking so good, the scent of his cologne wafting through your nostrils and infiltrating your senses. maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to drink so much before coming. “chris,” you say in a soft tone, one that always makes him melt, but tonight he just shakes his head at you and reaches up to place both hands on either one of your shoulders. “not tonight. please behave yourself tonight. I have lia here and I really don’t want to mess this up. I promise i’ll make it up to you,” he begs, and he really sounds like he means it.

you always hated not getting what you wanted.

“but, chris,” you pout, dropping your head down a bit to give your eyes a wider appearance, bringing your hand up to rest on his chest. you’re about to speak again when he grabs your hand and pulls it away from him, pushing it back towards you. “i’m serious,” he says lowly. “not tonight.”

you groan and narrow your eyes at chris frustratedly, annoyed at his determination. “fine,” you agree. you take your hand that he pushed away from you and reach between your bodies, cupping chris’s dick through the black jeans he wore, keeping your eyes lock on his. “just know i’ll be thinking about you all night and wishing you would have your way with me.”

chris sucked in a sharp breath at your touch, knowing he should pull away but not having the willpower to. one of his hands leans against the counter for support, the other itching to grab you and pull you closer. you can feel him twitching under your hand, a hint of an erection forming as you groped him. he was about to give into your touch, about to pull you somewhere more private, but an unfamiliar voice pulled you both from the moment. your pulled your hand away from him and tucked it into the back pocket of your jeans that hugged your ass perfectly, other hand bringing your cup up to your lips.

“here you are!” a girl’s voice calls from the doorway of the kitchen, stepping up to chris’s side with a wide grin on her face, oblivious to the tension in the room. chris slings an arm around her waist loosely, now refusing to make eye contact with you, afraid this girl would see right through him if he looked at you. “here I am,” he says with a forced smile, turning his head to face her. she turns and looks up at him, naive adoration painted on her features. “is this the friend you were telling me about?”

he told her about me? you think to yourself, raising an eyebrow suspiciously. “yeah,” chris says, clearing his throat as he turned back to look at you. “this is lia, the girl i’ve been seeing,” he introduces awkwardly and you tilt your head at her, smiling sweetly. “lia,” you hum, nodding your head. her hand comes out to greet you and all you can do is stare down at it, judging the way her acrylics were grown out and an ugly color. “i’m gonna go find your brother,” you tell chris, looking back up at him with a smirk, sending him a knowing wink before turning on your heel and heading towards the living room, hearing chris apologizing for your attitude quietly.

you did exactly as you promised, finding matt sitting on the floor with his back leaned up against the front of a couch and his legs crossed in front of him, laughing at something a friend had said. “hi, matt,” you greet sweetly, sitting directly next to him. his attention is grabbed by you immediately, lifting his arm to drape it around your shoulder as he smiled over at you. “hi, pretty girl,” he replied.

you made conversation with him for a few minutes before chris and lia came into the room, him looking uncomfortable and her looking happy as ever. she couldn’t even pick up on his emotions yet and he was so willing to drop everything for her. how could he be so infatuated with a girl that was so fucking dumb she couldn’t tell when she broke up a moment filled with sexual tension?

there isn’t much time to dwell on her lack of social awareness before somebody grabs your attention again, sitting across from you and matt. “okay, are we playing truth or dare or spin the bottle?” he asks drunkenly. chris audibly groans, lowering himself to the floor in a makeshift circle, lia sitting so close she should’ve just sat on top of him. “can we not do some childish shit, please?” he asks, tone laced with annoyance.

“what, scared you’re gonna have to kiss somebody, chris?” matt teases from next to you and you’re unable to contain the small giggle that leaves your lips. “or are you scared i’m gonna kiss your girl?”

matt’s arm squeezes around you when he says this and it takes you a moment to realize he’s not talking about the girl tucked into chris’s side, but rather about you. “i’m not scared of shit, asshole, I just don’t think we should be playing some fucking little kid games.” chris shoots back with a dramatic eye roll. “it’ll be fun!” lia says enthusiastically, wrapping both hands around chris’s bicep and shaking him lightly. he looks over at her and sends a tight lipped smile her way, his hand gently rubbing over her arm. “alright, whatever,” he concedes.

that’s how you all ended up playing truth or dare, spinning a bottle to decide who goes first. after a few rounds of stupid dares and pussy cop outs with people choosing truth, it���s matt’s turn to ask somebody a question. his attention turns to you, and a lazy smirk finds its way onto his lips. “truth or dare,” he asks you quietly and you can’t help but feel nervous at his tone. “dare,” you say instantly.

matt shifts a bit next to you before looking around the room, eyes landing on his brother for a moment before flitting back to you. “I dare you to make out with me for at least a minute,” he says after a few moments of thought. you’re a bit shocked at this, but quickly snap out of it and swing your leg over his lap, sitting atop his thighs happily. matt’s grinning up at you like a sick freak and you feel clued in on his intentions with the way he stares at you, so to bounce off of his energy, you turn your head to chris who’s staring at the two of you with dark, intense eyes, clearly not a fan of what was going on. “hey, chris?” you ask sweetly, tilting your head a bit. “can you start a timer, please?”

chris narrows his eyes at you, not liking the game you decided to play with him. he already wasn’t a big fan of your relationship with matt, but having to sit here and witness it himself was another level of fucked up. after he doesn’t answer, refusing to take his eyes off of you, the stupid, clueless girl next to him whips out her phone. “i’ll do it!” she says with a smile, holding up the timer. you roll your eyes and turn back to face matt, resting your forearms on his shoulders. “she’s so fucking stupid,” you whisper so only he can hear and he laughs at your comment before reaching up to rest his hand on the back of your head, pulling you down to meet his lips.

you’re instantly melting into the kiss, lips slotting together effortlessly, the taste of alcohol and juice on both of your tongues mingling. matt’s touch was so much gentler than chris’s, the way his hands slid up under your shirt to hold onto your waist and the way he took his time kissing you instead of rushing through it. between the way he felt holding you against him and the liquor running through your veins, you felt yourself getting carried away in the kiss, hips subtly grinding down on him as your hands found themselves in his hair, holding him close to you as you made out.

“minute’s up,” chris informs you both, but matt’s hands move down from your waist to your ass, fingers digging into the denim covering your skin, willing you even closer. “hello?” chris says again, louder this time, infuriated at the way you both seemed to get more into it. it’s not fully surprising when chris’s hand lands on your shoulder and roughly pulls you away from matt, almost ripping you off his lap. “enough,” he snaps, hand instinctively moving towards your jaw to turn your head to face him. your eyebrows immediately furrow together at his rough touch, hand pulling away from matt to shove into chris’s chest roughly. “back the fuck up, chris.”

he surprisingly listens, not wanting to cause an unnecessary scene in front of everybody, including lia, sitting back in his original position next to her. she seems slightly unnerved at his reaction, waiting a few moments before she places her hand back on his arm. “are you okay?” lia questions in her soft voice and chris doesn’t even glance her way, eyes locked on you as you climb off of matt’s lap and settle next to him again. “he’s fine, he’s just a little possessive,” matt snarks, his arm coming back around your shoulder. “a little?” you scoff, eyes trailing over chris’s tense frame. “hey, matt, when do you think we should tell chris that I lied about hooking up with you to make him jealous?”

you wish you had a camera to record the way chris’s expression dropped, the way his jaw visibly tensed from his teeth clenching together, the way his chest expanded from the breath he pulled in. “what does she mean?” lia questions from next to chris, turning her body towards him. “nothing,” he immediately answers. “it’s my turn!” you say enthusiastically, clapping your hands together and letting them fall in your lap. “lia, truth or dare?” you ask her, sending a smile her way. she’s shifting uncomfortably at your words, turning her attention to you apprehensively. “um…” her eyes flit to chris’s face for a moment, but they look back at you when she realizes he’s still staring at you. “dare,” she finally answers, sitting up straighter. you can tell that she only picks dare to impress chris, but he’s focused on anything but her right now.

you hum and tap your index finger on your chin a few times as you think of what to say. “I dare you… to go through chris’s phone!” is what you land on, and chris immediately moves to stand up, brushing lia off of his arm. “can I talk to you?” he directs towards you, not waiting for an answer before he grabs you by your arm and lifts you off the ground, dragging you towards a bedroom down the hall. “you’re hurting me,” you tell him bluntly, trying to pull away, but he just tightens his fingers around you as he shoves you into a room and slams the door shut behind you.

“what the fuck are you doing?” he sneers, finally releasing you. you huff and try to fix your clothes, glaring at the fuming man in front of you. “what are you talking about?” you ask him, raising your eyebrows at him. “i’m not doing this little back and forth. stop fucking with her. I mean it, dude, i’m not playing. don’t drag her into your mean girl bullshit. she’s too nice for you and your bitchy behavior.”

you scoff at his words, unable to believe he’s trying to defend this girl from you. “she’s fine,” you drawl, waving a hand at him dismissively. “god, chris, you’re so hot when you’re mad.” you take a small step closer to him, trying to close the distance between you two. “don’t,” he says sternly, bringing his hands up to stop you. you take another step closer, bringing your hands up to rest on his outstretched arms, dragging them up until they were placed on his shoulders. “don’t what?” you ask him, peering up at him through your lash extensions, eyes boring into him shamelessly. “don’t be slutty right now, i’m trying to have a serious conversation with you.”

you laugh and step even further until your chests are pressed together, bringing your arms up to wrap around him. you rested your chin on his sternum and gazed up at him, smiling at the way he stared across the room behind you, refusing to look down at you in fear of giving in. despite his unwillingness to look at you, his arms come up and wrap around your shoulders, a loud sigh escaping his nostrils. “look at me,” you say softly, squeezing your arms around him gently. you can feel his heart pounding from where you rested against him and you knew it was only a matter of time before he gave in.

when chris finally looked down and met your eyes, you felt the energy in the room shift. his expression softened as he inspected your face and the way that you looked back at him, like you were patiently waiting for him to crack and give you attention. “you’re incredibly rude,” is the first thing he says after locking eyes with you and you can’t help but grin at his statement. “you like how rude I am,” you retort.

chris rolls his eyes and looks past you for a moment before refocusing his gaze on you. “I tolerate how rude you are to me, not to girls I like. it’s not cute, it’s just pissing me off.” his tone is quiet, but you can tell he’s serious with the way he speaks. “i’m sorry,” you say honestly, pouring your bottom lip out subtly. “can I kiss it better?” he laughs at this and tightens his arms around your shoulders, shaking his head. “no, i’m not rewarding your awful behavior. go kiss matt about it,” he tells you, then pauses. “were you serious about what you said? that you lied about sleeping with him?”

you suck in a sharp breath at his words, feeling cornered despite you admitting exactly that only a few minutes prior. “I do think he’s hot,” you start. “but that was the first time we’ve ever kissed. he thinks you’re kind of an asshole when it comes to women so he wanted to see how mad you could get if we both made you believe we were fucking.”

chris purses his lips and nods, almost like he’s impressed by your scheme. “too bad you’re not important enough to make me jealous,” he teases and it makes you crack a smile. “sure, that’s why you ripped me off of him like that.”

“I was just playing by the rules,” chris defends, refusing to be pegged as the jealous type. “can you please just stop being weird and rude? i’m not asking for a lot.” you sigh and press your forehead into his chest for a couple of beats before looking back up at him, nodding your head. “yeah, alright,” you concede. “if you kiss me all nasty right now.”

“oh my god,” chris groans, but he couldn’t fight the closeness between you two any longer, bringing his hand up to the back of your head and leaning down to press his lips against yours roughly, both of your eyes fluttering shut as you made contact. your hands around him gripped at the back of his shirt to hold him closer as his tongue slipped into your mouth, a soft whine slipping out of your nose. the kiss only lasted maybe thirty seconds before he pulled away and stared down at you, soaking in your wide eyes and needy pout. “enough. let’s go.”

you nod and let go of him, but not before leaning forward and placing a soft kiss on the skin of his neck, pulling away to smile up at him. “i’m right behind you,” you tell him and he steps away from you, not so subtly waistbanding his dick before opening the bedroom door and stepping out, making his way back into the living room.

you both take your respective places back next to lia and matt, looking as inconspicuous as you could after a slightly heated make-out that left you both craving more. matt sent you a knowing smirk, pulling you back into his side once you settled back down, and lia just smiled at chris, completely missing the way he used the collar of his shirt to wipe off his lips from where your lip gloss was smeared along them.

what she didn’t miss, noticing it only seconds later, was the tinged lip print pressed perfectly against his neck, right above his collarbone where you could reach. she stared at it for what seemed like forever, and your heart dropped when you saw what she saw. “fuck,” you breathe out, catching matt’s attention. he’s not even able to question you when he sees lia scooting away from chris, a hurt expression painted on her face.

“what is that?” she asks, voice strained as it comes out. chris is clueless, looking over at her with a raised eyebrow. “what is what?” he asks her, annoyance lacing his tone. lia only reaches up and touches his neck, dragging her finger through the sticky gloss on his skin before holding it up for him to see. you can tell he feels the same stomach-sinking dread when he notices what he’s being shown, mouth opening to speak, then closing again when he can’t think of a way to defend himself.

you’re scooting away from matt nervously, feeling like you were about to throw up, not because you were worried about this girl’s feelings, but because you were terrified of chris’s reaction. he practically begged you to behave, and you fucked up with a stupid fucking kiss. “oh my god,” you choke out, standing up from the floor. chris’s attention is drawn to you at your movement, pushing himself off the floor as well. “you are so fucking stupid,” he spits, pointing a finger at you accusingly. “I ask you to back the fuck off for one night! you can never fucking listen!”

you flinch at his words, taking a few steps back until you slam into the wall behind you, eyes welling with tears as he nears closer. “it was an accident,” you mumble, using the back of your hand to wipe the remaining lip gloss off of your lips haphazardly, even though it didn’t matter anymore. “you are such a fucking whore. always have to ruin everything, don’t you?” he’s in your face now, glaring down at you with an expression you’ve never seen before. “you kissed me, too, this isn’t my fault!” you yell back, voice pinched as you start to get worked up, heart pounding in your chest. “you don’t get to blame all your fuck ups on me!”

“chris,” matt warns from behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder cautiously, which chris instantly brushes off, eyes locked on you. “i’m sorry that nobody wants you, i’m sorry nobody wants to deal with how fucking exhausting you are, but that doesn’t mean you can go around and fuck with me and my life.” chris doesn’t even bat an eye at the tear that slips down your cheek or the way your lip wobbles, only rolling his eyes before turning around and walking back towards lia, helping her up off the floor.

you can hear your heartbeat in your ears as you watch him leave, unable to hear matt as he speaks to you, only focusing on chris as he guides his girlfriend-not-girlfriend out of the house, presumably to explain and try to put back the pieces of what little relationship they had. the second he’s out of your line of sight, you release a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, turning to look at matt. “can you take me home?” you ask him, and he instantly nods, guiding you towards the door.

the ride home is silent, and you feel like you’re on autopilot when you walk into your apartment and kick off your shoes, only letting yourself process what had happened when you were wrapped up in your blankets twenty minutes later. you tried calling chris, and all of your calls were instantly sent to voicemail.

that’s when you texted him, feeling a new sense of rage at his accusations through the messages he sent, deciding that this wasn’t all your fault and you weren’t the only bad guy here. chris made his bed, too, and you would make sure he suffered as he laid in it.

taglist

@liiixsturniolos @madelinesturn @ifwdominicfike @sophand4n4 @chris-hallelujah @sophsturns @rafesapprentice @045696 @scorpioosworld @byhrxb @vickytaa @taelovesmattsturniolo @secret-sturniolo @theboredknightcat-blog @slvtf0rchr1s @gabri3la-sturns @delilahsturniolo @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @vanillsstuff @sturnlsstuff @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @mattsbratt333 @mattsfavoritestar @dominicfikeenthusiast @certified-sturniolo @mattsside @sofiaaguilaxx @idrk2292 @dylansfavwife @sturnl0ve @sturnioloangelxoxo @sofia-is-a-sturniolo-triplet-fan @milasturniolo @mattsdillion @birkinbratsworld @aria003 @poppingmypussy4chris @annsx03 @ouchywow @pasteldreams @sweetshuga @pip4444chris @chriss-slut @yourebeautifulqueen @watercolorskyy @courta13 @craftycrafter26 @meg4-matt44 @colorthecosmos444

[robotdragonfanatic]

The Grim Brother's stories read completely differently and make a lot of sense once you learn they're Calvinists. Think European Puritan (gross oversimplification, I know) - aka 1) Step Mom bad because motherhood is holy and they lived in a time where it was common for men to marry a younger woman once their wife died (death was more common). 2) Evil must be brutally punished (Cinderela's step mother and sisters dancing until death on burning coals at the royal wedding)

3) Do not question God under any circumstances! Angels will force you to watch your dead sons be tortured to death if you ask Him why your children died young (in The Aged Mother).

4) Removing any mention of sex or allusions to sex from the local folktales they adapted into their story collections.

5)They only started to chill with the violence after parents wrote letters to them about it.

There's mre examples but you get the picture. Historical context from the author's life can give you very clear answers to why their writing is such as it is.

[theemporium]

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

series masterlist

.

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

“Yeah?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“The schedule?” Luke asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

Luke only laughed in response. 

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

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

“Like the Hunger Games?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You grinned. “Big plans?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Chill?” You repeated, grinning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

“This sucks!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jack glared. 

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

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

“Jack complaining about All Stars,” Curtis answered.

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

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

“Uh, no,” Luke shook his head. 

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

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

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

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

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

Jack’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. 

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

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

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

cherry🍒: consider this your one and only warning

…

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

A little too easy, if Luke was being honest. 

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

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

“Dude, you have shit timing.” 

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

“I never said that,” Luke retorted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who told you that?”

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

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

He knew. 

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

“So, let me get this straight.” 

Luke let out a deep sigh.

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

“Yes.” 

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

“Mhm.” 

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

“Yup.”

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

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

“I think I am being perfectly reasonable here.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bye, Ethan!” 

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you calling me lanky?” 

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

Luke snorted. “Geez, thanks.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“By calling me lanky.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Luke swallowed a little.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He swallowed. “Cute?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

And fuck, he could.

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

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

“I bought condoms.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He swallowed harshly. “No, I do—”

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

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

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

And Luke did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You felt right. 

This whole moment felt right. 

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

But it wasn’t. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Luke kind of wished this moment would last forever. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

[so-i-did-this-thing]

You're the only person I know on Tumblr who I feel like I can send this ask so I hope this is ok.

I'm absolutely sick to my stomach terrified. People keep talking about not acquiescing early and to keep fighting and that's good but... I'm a trans person married to a trans person and we have a kid. We are so, so scared that we are going to lose our parental rights and have him taken away, even if he's biologically my partners. We are pretty fucking sure that the only way we could even possibly stay in the US and even possibly keep our family together is to detransition. But then we would still be queer, and I remember the 90s and how it was pretty recent that gay couples were considered unfit parents.

And this isn't us blowing things out of proportion, we have an education in politics so we've got a pretty good freaking idea about how bad things can and will get, but also we don't feel like we can afford to NOT take things extremely seriously. The worst case scenario is pretty horrific for us, so we've talked at lengthe about leaving the country. Which is it's own basket of heartbreaks because then there's a real chance we will never be able to come back. And I don't really feel like I can talk about it because a) the Internet doesn't feel safe to be trans on and b) there's been SO much chatter about how we need to stay and fight and people who can leave are privileged etc etc

I just... I'm scared and heartbroken and angry and I feel extremely hopeless. I guess I don't really have a question after all. I just needed to talk about it because it feels like not enough people are seeing this kind of true tragedy that could come from all this.

I wish there was actual help we could get. But there doesn't seem like there's anyone who can.

You're right, Anon - you're not blowing things out of proportion.

I want to say that I'm relieved in a sense that you are talking about where your lines in the sand are are and what you plan to do if they are crossed. There is hope and comfort to be found in a plan, even if it is a plan for the next generation's survival, instead of our own.

Every trans person needs to start thinking about real answers to the following questions:

What will I do if I'm fired tomorrow?

What will I do if I'm denied a loan? Housing?

What will I do if I lose my HRT?

What will I do if information about trans people is considered illegal to circulate?

What will I do if I I'm declared an unfit parent?

What will I do if my marriage is annulled?

What will I do if I'm declared unfit to own my own property or make my own legal decisions?

What will I do if I'm about to be arrested?

There are answers to all of these questions that aren't just "give up and die." But there's no one-size-fits all solution. People will have varying priorities based on how they see their role in fighting fascism and what resources they have access to.

Community is going to become incredibly important. Trans people have always existed. Sympathetic cis people have always existed. Trans people have always found ways to survive and even flourish, even though it often meant not being able to pursue their original dreams.

If you don't know where to begin with strengthening our community, the Trans Literature Preservation Project is a good place to get ideas. The virtual book burnings have already begun on .gov websites, so maybe doing a little preservation work will give you more hope that you're working to make a difference.

Because the work is important, even if the progress won't happen until after our time.

[dearru]

food for thought | o.miya

-> pairings: miya osamu x gn!reader | sfw | cw: none | genre: fluff | wc: 619 | mlist

-> synopsis: your boyfriend has odd eating habits, but it’s only because he loves you so much.

“You eat like you’ve been starved.”

“Hm?” Osamu remarks, shoveling onigiri into his mouth at a speed that makes you wonder how he hasn’t choked yet. The whir of the fridge rings faintly in your ear while you watch in amusement as he barely breathes between bites. It had become almost a ritual between you and your boyfriend to order in on cozy nights like these when neither you or him had the energy to cook.

It had also become routine for Osamu to scarf his food down in seconds while you pick at yours aimlessly.

“I said you eat like you‘ve just suffered through a famine,” you laugh, heart swelling with a soft affection. “Why?”

His chewing slows as he furrows his brow in contemplation. Swallowing, he slouches back in his seat and shrugs. “Force of habit, I guess. ‘Tsumu always stole my food if I wasn’t fast enough.”

“That makes sense,” you nod, though a nagging curiosity creeps into your head, accompanied by the urge to let it spill through your mouth. You wait for a beat before giving in to the feeling. Pressing your arms against the table, you lean forward.

“I have another question.”

Snorting, he fiddles with the little food that’s left on his plate. “Can I ask what compelled ya to analyze my eatin’ habits?”

Your eyes narrow, “‘Samu…”

“My bad,” he concedes, popping the last piece of onigiri into his mouth. “What’s the question?”

You pause, gesturing to the now-empty dish in front of him, “Have you noticed that you never rush through the food I cook for you?” Tilting your head, you add, “It’s only when we go out, or when you make stuff for yourself that you eat like this.”

Osamu doesn’t answer right away. He goes quiet for a moment, but he fills the silence by tapping his chopsticks against the table. Shifting languidly, he meets your expectant gaze and sighs, breaking the still. “I guess… it’s ‘cause I want the moment to last longer.”

You blink. “Huh?”

“Y’know what I mean,” he replies, voice softening.

“I don’t.”

Groaning, he sets the utensils down to fork fingers through his hair. “Usually I’m the one that cooks, so when you do it—it’s special,” he explains, his lips parting slightly like he’s trying to find the right words to articulate an intricate thought. His eyes flicker down to his plate and back up to you. “I chew slower to show my appreciation. Sorta like how yer supposed to look at paintings in museums for a long time.”

Your chest pangs with surprise at his answer, and you raise your hand to inspect your now warm cheek. Gaping at him, slack-mouthed, his words echo through your head as silence stretches between the two of you once more. Despite being together for so long, Osamu’s words still could make you feel like you were floating.

When you finally speak, you can’t help but smile. “Are you comparing my cooking to a masterpiece?”

“No,” he quips, eyes twinkling with mirth, “That’d be offensive to artists.”

You gasp, “Rude!” But there’s no real feeling behind it. Giggling, you act on impulse and shove your half-finished plate of gyoza across the table towards him.

He hums, lips twisting upwards slightly. “What’re ya givin’ me this for?” His voice holds a fondness that makes you want to swoon.

“You’re cute. That’s why.”

Cocking his head at you, he smiles in appreciation. His nose is tinted pink from the steam that remains of your leftovers, and you find it unbelievably adorable. Chopsticks reaching to finish the food you had presented to him, he pauses to look up at you, catching your gaze once more.

“I think yer cuter.”

—a/n: picture me writing this and wailing in agony bcuz that’s exactly how it happened

requested to be tagged: @sahrii @mayyhaps (who also proofread this so shoutout may) @kameyyy

[jraker4]

I don't think it follows that a novel needs to be hard science fiction to reasonably have the question, as a reader, 'How did the world get this way?' The answer may be 'a wizard did it', or 'it's as-yet unrevealed' or even 'it's ambiguous and the author didn't engage with that sort of worldbuilding', and those are all fine. But if the answer is 'wait, this makes no goddamned sense at all' under every rock you pick up, that's a problem.

Someone over on Discord asked, "I'm morbidly curious: How BAD is A Song of Ice and Fire in terms of the authenticity George claims it to be?"

My reply was straightforward:

The long and the short of it is that ASOIAF is basically a vehicle for GRRM to present both his rape fetish and his Hobbesian view on human nature and has less historical accuracy than Frozen or most other Disney movies.

That's actually a good way to think of it, now that I've said it--he's Family Unfriendly, they're Family Friendly, but both have the same relationship with History: just Pure Aesthetic with no consideration for how the worldbuilding would work.

[steddieas-shegoes]

i don’t know why i can’t take my eyes off of you

for @steddielovemonth day one using You and Me by Lifehouse

rated t | 1186 words | no cw | tags: future fic, second chances, mutual pining, idiots in love, songwriter Eddie, teacher Steve

🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒🛒

Steve’s walking down the frozen section of Melvald’s when time stops.

Not literally. The watch on his wrist is still ticking. The clock on the wall at the front of the store is still moving. People around him are still grabbing their groceries.

But Eddie Munson is standing in front of the ice cream section like he belongs there.

Eddie left Hawkins five years ago.

He kissed Steve on the lips, then the forehead, and left.

Steve’s thought about it, about him, every day since.

Eddie hasn’t noticed him yet. Maybe Steve should leave before he does. Last he’d heard, Eddie was working at a recording studio as a songwriter, halfway making his dreams come true.

He’s happy, or at least that’s what all the kids have said when he’s brought up. They don’t know about the kiss, at least Steve doesn’t think they do. He’s never told them.

It’s busy enough in the store that Steve’s pretty sure he can sneak away before Eddie sees him. He starts to back away, but immediately bumps into an old woman.

“I’m so sorry, are you okay?” He’s asking, and she’s brushing him off and saying she’s fine. He feels terrible.

“Steve?” Eddie’s voice is like music, always has been a melody made specifically for Steve.

“Eddie,” Steve says as the old woman walks away. “Hey.”

Steve forgets he’s in public as the world around him fades and all he sees, smells, wants, is Eddie.

“I didn’t know you were still in Hawkins,” Eddie says quietly, leaning forward on his toes. He’s got a new battle vest, though it looks well-worn. Steve wonders if he knows that his old vest is hanging in his closet, if he knows that Steve pulls it out every once in a while so he can put it on and feel a little less alone.

“Yeah. Never left.” It sounds worse than it is. Steve always said he’d leave when all the kids left, but once they did, he didn’t know where to go. It’s not like he could follow them around, couch-surfing across the country a month or two at a time, burdening them with his self-imposed loneliness.

“You look good,” Eddie says, changing the subject.

Leaving Hawkins was a touchy subject for Steve the last time he’d seen Eddie. It still is. Eddie must sense that.

“So do you,” Steve breathes out. He does. He looks healthy and happy, something Hawkins had completely drained from him before. “What are you doing back?”

“Just visiting Wayne. Usually he comes to see me, but he insisted he didn’t wanna deal with the ‘big city’ this time. And I’m the best nephew, so I said ‘sure, old man, I’ll go back to the town that hates my guts!’ And here I am trying to find my favorite ice cream at the store. They don’t have it,” Eddie shrugs. He rambles when he’s nervous, still. “He hasn’t mentioned seeing you around or anything, though.”

“Yeah, I guess we don’t cross paths much,” Steve laughs awkwardly. He can’t remember the last time he saw Wayne. Must’ve been around Christmas, when Steve was helping Joyce with her decorations while Hopper worked overtime and Wayne stopped by to drop off some lights. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s good. Stubborn as hell. Won’t retire even though he could,” Eddie shakes his head. “Think he’s scared of being bored.”

“Or lonely.”

The words escape Steve before he can hold them back.

Eddie’s face softens, but it’s not full of pity. Everyone always gives Steve this look, like they know he’s putting on a brave face. Not Eddie.

“Wayne’s always been content alone. He’s got friends, and he calls me when he has something new to argue about,” Eddie leans in closer. “I don’t really worry about Wayne. Other people, sure.”

“Like who?” Steve swallows.

“You settle down yet?” Eddie asks in response.

Steve’s so shocked by the question, he doesn’t answer.

“I figured the kids were just being nice by not telling me if you did, but you’re not wearing a ring and you’re grocery shopping alone, so…” Eddie rambles again. Steve feels his heart flutter in his chest.

“No.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Are you dating someone?”

Steve shakes his head. “Haven’t really found anyone interesting.”

“Interesting? Since when does Steve Harrington want someone interesting?”

Since the most interesting person he knows kissed him and then left. Since everyone else is boring in comparison to you. Since he realized he was dumb to let you go.

“I guess what I thought I wanted is different now. Has been for a while,” Steve shrugs.

It’s strange how easily Steve becomes wrapped up in Eddie’s orbit, how quickly everything else didn’t matter the moment Eddie started talking to him. It’s just the two of them.

“Excuse me,” a man says to their left. Steve jumps back and apologizes for blocking where he needed to be. Eddie’s eyes never leave Steve.

When the man walks away, Steve clears his throat.

“How long are you in town?”

“How long will it take me to convince you to come back with me?”

Steve chokes on his next breath. “What? Come back with you? To…”

“New York or Chicago. I’m getting a promotion and they’ll let me pick where I wanna go. I’ve been leaning towards Chicago because more of the music I enjoy is making a mark there,” Eddie explains. “And there’s plenty of options for you there, too. Dustin said you just finished your teaching degree.”

“Dustin talks about me?”

“Only when unprovoked,” Eddie grins. “Have you been waiting for me?”

It’s blunt, but Eddie always has been. Steve can hide a lot of emotions from people; It’s been a survival tactic for most of his life.

He’s never been able to hide shit from Eddie.

“Not on purpose.”

Eddie looks at his basket of items. He was really only here for a few things, but he saw his favorite cookies were on sale and he couldn’t resist stocking up. He looks between the basket and Eddie’s eyes.

“You wanna come to mine for dinner?”

“Is dinner cookies?” Eddie laughs, poking at the package closest to the top.

“That’s dessert,” Steve laughs, too. He finds it easy. He never thought it could be this easy after the time that’s passed, the distance they had between them.

“First dessert.”

“What are we, hobbits?” Steve asks.

Eddie’s jaw drops open. “Steve, please. Not in public.”

“What?”

“I didn’t know you read it!” Eddie groans, but he’s smiling, so Steve’s not actually worried.

“I’ve read a lot of things! I’ve been waiting for you, remember?”

An announcement starts in the store— someone’s car is blocking a delivery truck entrance— and they both take a step away from each other. They were much closer than they should be in the grocery store.

This is still Hawkins, and people already don’t like Eddie. Looking cozier than two dudes normally would might be dangerous for both of them.

“So. Dinner?” Steve asks again. It’s easier to remember there are other people around with some distance between them.

“Sure. Dinner.”

Time starts again.

[margotw10bis]

BUILD A HOME.JJK [m] Teaser

business partner!Jungkook x female reader

Genre: angst; smut; romance (?); friends (?) to lovers

Words: ?

Synopsis: Working with Jungkook is a pain in the ass, resulting in numerous fights that always end up with angry sex. However, you wouldn't want to work with anyone else than him.

Warnings: none for the teaser

Namjoon and Jungkook have done a miracle: redoing the facade wall in just one day. You can read on their faces their tiredness. That’s why you invite them to a Korean Barbecue restaurant tonight.

While entering the restaurant with your brother and Jungkook, you notice how the waitress instantly blushes after eyeing at the younger man. You can’t blame her: Jungkook with a denim jacket is quite dangerous for young hearts… She doesn’t even seem to see you or Namjoon, her glance being stuck on Jungkook. She leads your group — or only the inked man, you can’t say — to your table and you welcome the sweet rest and the chill atmosphere of the restaurant.

You don’t have time to start any conversation that the waitress comes back to take your drink orders. She must have a special talent because she can write down what you tell her without even looking at her notepad, which allows her to be completely focused on Jungkook. You watch her tentatively flirting with him with an amused grin. You wait for the waitress to leave to speak.

"You should give her your number" Jungkook looks at you with a questioning look and you roll your eyes "She seems to really like you" You explain, pointing at the waitress with a nod of the head 

"She’s cute but not my type" He nonchalantly replies, just like he was taking about a piece of clothing 

"Oh come on! Every girl is your type" You sigh with frustration 

"Really?" He asks, playfulness noticeable in his doe eyes 

"Was it like a week ago?" You fake thinking while tapping your finger on your lower lip, clearly remembering how Jungkook abandoned you at the restaurant to end the night with a random woman "You left with a false blond girl. Before that, you were with a foreigner, a French girl I think. Oh, and one month ago, you had a thing with a forty-year old woman. How can you say you have a type?" You joke 

"Don’t be jealous, you’re the only one I stick to" Jungkook says with a flirty tone that makes you shiver in disgust 

"Please, don’t’"You snap back with a laugh

Namjoon is watching your little interaction with wide eyes. He can’t understand how Jungkook could even think about another girl when there is… whatever it is between you two. And also, how can you be okay with Jungkook dating other girls. You two are so fucking weird. 

Between beer and chatting, you gather some meat on the grill and settle it on Jungkook’s plate — you have noticed that he is so into his weird anecdote that he hasn’t eaten for at least ten minutes. In exchange, without even be conscious of it, your partner fixes your woolen cardigan that has slipped from your shoulder. 

Your bother is watching you two with a suspicious eye. 

"You’re sure you two are not together?" He cuts Jungkook off 

You can’t help laughing, a little too much not to offend the younger man. 

"What? Of course not" You end up answering 

"Hey, don’t be too startled by the idea, I’m a great boyfriend" Jungkook pouts

"No, you’re not. I know you way too well. Stop talking non sense" You reply, grabbing his cheeks to tease him even more 

"Well, the perfect boyfriend that I am is going to take a piss" He announces while snapping your hand away from his face

[amywritesthings]

silver underground. | chapter 24

( Read on AO3 )

Pairing: levi ackerman x f!reader (attack on titan / shingeki no kyojin) Word Count: 6.3k Summary: day 163 - continued.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI - explicit smut, resolved sexual tension, oral (f!receiving), nipple play, body worship, fingering, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, protected piv sex, angst, mentions of death, sensuality Credits: dividers by @saradika-graphics

Previous Chapter. / Next Chapter. | Masterlist.

I feel... you.

The answer to your question you’ve been asking the moment you opened your eyes.

The clarity you’ve sought ever since you locked eyes with the captain of the Scouts.

I remember you.

Levi kisses you like he knows you, and the rest of the world ceases to exist.

His sturdy hands flutter in a flurry, touching every part of you like he wishes he could have it all.

Chilled palms cup your face, cradling your head as if it's the most precious thing they've ever touched, before sliding down your neck; to the slope of your shoulder, dipping down your sides — pulling you closer, closer, until you’re airborne.

You’re not afraid of falling.

Not with him.

Instinctually you jump, knowing he’ll catch you. 

Your thighs clench around his waist as one strong arm supports your weight, unwilling to compromise the position of his other hand. It remains on your cheek, cupping your face to hold your kisses steady.

As the man stumbles forward, you hear the abrupt slam of the wooden chair go flying across the room, skidding to its side on the floor. 

It’s loud.

(Surely someone downstairs will hear.)

Hange, Moblit, Erwin — in a best-case scenario, those who stayed behind will be the only privy to the commotion.

However, if the entire squad has returned from the forest...

Well, there's no mistaking the shuffles and slams coming from Captain Levi's room.

Fighting or fucking; the odds are fifty-fifty.

He doesn't seem to care.

Honestly?

Neither do you.

(Too much time wasted on open secrets.)

With immense control and strength, he slowly lowers you both to the bed. The bed frame creaks in its age under the weight, but the mattress feels soft compared to the forest floor you crashed into mere hours ago.

Your back touches the ivory sheets, engulfing you in the scent of him. Something uniquely Levi; crisp and impossibly clean with a musk that’s making your mouth water. 

You’ve smelled it in passing the few times he’s passed you at headquarters — always at arm’s length, no matter how close you try to get — but now it’s bound to stick to your body, your clothes —

The way it used to in the Underground. 

The way it used to in this very bed.

His kisses are messy yet precise, focused on the feel of your mouth against his. When you let out a shaken breath and whimper, overwhelmed by his reinvigorated passion, Levi outright groans. 

The same arm once holding you up snakes around from under your back to meet its twin cradling your face, keeping you in place.

(As if you’d ever wish to leave.)

“I’m sorry,” you whisper between kisses.

“Don’t,” he replies just as softly, tugging at your lower lip with his teeth. “Not now.”

“But—”

“I don’t want your damn apologies,” he sighs, traveling south to pepper your jawline with short, chaste kisses. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

When he senses your hesitance, he pumps the brakes on his kisses and raises his chin to look you in the eye. The storm in his eyes has darkened to a damn near black.

His button-down hangs off of his bony frame, giving you a view of the expanse of skin beneath.

“Nothing,” he repeats.

Like he knows you want to fight.

(The two of you know the language of violence so well, but you know one another better.)

The protests, the pleas, the endless stream of begging dies on your tongue the second his thumb grazes your lower lip with reverence.

Emotion flickers across his face, gone as fast as it came, before he dives back in for another kiss — slower this time, the push and pull deliberate with reassurance.

This.

This is what your lips should be doing, not apologizing.

The message is received loud and clear: you tilt your chin to meet him in every kiss, hands blindly raising to run through the soft strands of his black hair. He exhales through his nose, the hot breath tickling your skin.

For the longest time, it’s all you do.

Kiss.

One for every day spent apart.

One for every fight you’ve ever had.

One for every memory you’ve yet to recall.

The puzzle has a frame, yet there are still missing pieces, destroyed edges, that may never return. Maybe he’ll never make peace with it, but knowing you were a stone’s throw away from death surrenders that grief into confetti.

There will be new memories to make.

(As the keeper of your heart, you trust his recollection of the details you can no longer recount.)

This life won’t be perfect, it never has been from the beginning, but so long as you have this — have Levi — then nothing else matters.

“I can hear you thinking.”

The first part of that statement is muffled by a kiss, but he pulls away to check in during this languid, yearning make out session.

Levi squints down at you, lips pink from exertion.

“I’m not,” you lie.

His eyes narrow further. 

“Fine. I am.”

“About?”

“About how badly I want you.”

The blatant honesty dissolves that narrowness in seconds.

“About... how you—”

With the strength harnessed by adrenaline, you push on Levi’s chest, hard, until he’s flat on his back.

The bed creaks again when you crawl on top of him, straddling his hips while your hands plant themselves on the soft flesh of his wrists.

Down; you push down, pinning him underneath.

Levi doesn’t tense. He simply stares above, allowing you to do this.

“Want you,” you clarify, “yes.”

His throat bobs, but his expression stays cool. 

“Are you sure?”

“Do I look like I’m hesitating, Captain Levi?” you challenge, leaning down to hover over his face.

His hands leisurely flex under your hold, as if to relax them from their clenched state. 

For a moment, doubt creeps in.

Even if he’s confessed, there is still so much time unspoken for; so much to talk about, so much that you have missed.

Maybe it’s too much.

The grip on his wrists falters. “Unless if you don’t want—”

With inhuman strength, he uses the light hold you have on his wrists to push up, setting you off balance.

As you waver he quickly finds the upper hand, switching your positions once more so he can pin your wrists to the mattress beneath.

“Don’t even try to finish that sentence.”

To make his point, he drops his head to your neck and plants open-mouthed kisses against the column of your throat. You can’t help but make a strained noise of desire, eyes fluttering shut from ecstasy.

From this vantage point, you feel it — the sheer tension in his hold on your wrists, how desperately he resists clenching down, how gentle he aims to be when he glides both of your wrists from the sides of your face to over the crown of your head.

Levi doesn’t tremble, not like you. He remains as calculated as ever.

His lazy, methodical kisses trail up your neck to your jaw to your mouth. Both of his hands work to carefully connect your wrist in an x-formation. Once satisfied by your compliance, he slides one of his hands over both to latch on, pushing them down — yet still giving you plenty of room to escape if something doesn’t feel right.

(For the first time in over six months, everything feels perfectly in place.)

Panting against his mouth to catch your breath, a floating thought comes to mind once again.

So you speak. “Do you think the others—”

“I don’t care,” he interrupts, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. You follow his lead, tilting your chin up to meet him. “I do not fucking care right now, James.”

His candidness earns him a gentle giggle, and you feel the slightest shift against your lips:

A smile of his own.

You tap his hip cascaded by the disheveled fabric of his white button-down with your knee.

“Then take this off.”

The kisses cease at your request — no, demand — and Levi pulls away enough to stare down into yours.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Those beautiful gray eyes, stormy with droplets of blue — you realize the deep hurt in your belly is a pang of loss.

You say it before you can regret holding it back.

"I missed you."

His expression smooths with how earnest you sound beneath him, before clearing his throat.

“Which part?” he asks, voice slightly strained from the efforts of holding back.

You blink twice. "Which part?"

"Of me, yeah."

Searching his face, you decide to play along.

“Are you going to get mad if I say all of you?”

His eyes narrow. “Lazy.”

The flatness of his joke earns a genuine belly laugh from you. 

Levi lets go of your wrists to sit up, nudging your legs apart so he can wriggle out of the way. You easily comply, careful to leave your boots hanging off of the bed when you widen your thighs.

Stepping away from the bed, he bends over first to remove both of your boots, then his own.

Any other time he’d have a conniption over the dirt, the grime, that you’ve brought into this bed.

(If there was one thing to remember about your past, it was that people from the Underground City could still be just as clean as anyone else. So much time spent cleaning the endless grit from under your nails; an impossible feat.)

Even if dirt was a sin, apparently you were not.

He doesn’t even blink at the specs that may very well still be in your hair.

Instead he’s focused on watching your face as he unfastens the harness at his sternum, shrugging out of his own leather straps. Tossed carelessly to the floor, he rips off his dirtied cravat and ODM gear skirt next.

Pressing a knee into the mattress, he rejoins you on the bed to reach for your chest.

He hesitates, throat bobbing with fleeting uncertainty before he begins to slip the leather through its loop.

“Sit up for me.”

You acquiesce, sore muscles protesting the movement as you prop yourself up on your elbows.

He’s softer with his movements when it comes to your uniform, pulling it apart piece by piece, as if afraid one false move will ruin this dream.

It’s not a dream, you want to tell him. I’m right here. I’ve always been right here. I won’t be going anywhere ever again.

You don’t.

Can’t, not when you’re so mesmerized by the way he pauses at the first button of your shirt.

For a short moment he meets your gaze, studying it, before nodding once.

One by one, deft fingers unbutton your shirt until it’s hanging from your frame, revealing a chest band. All of the air rushes from his lungs in one swift woosh, until you realize—

The scars.

Shit.

The dreamy spell is broken, and soon you find yourself scrambling for something that will quell any negative emotion bubbling in his belly at the sheer sight of your body.

A part of you wants to cover up, act coy and switch roles —

But clever Levi, forever two steps ahead, dives right in to kiss the one of the many healing scars littering your body after the fall — the jagged line just above your left breast — with such fierce devotion that the gesture nearly knocks the damn wind of your lungs.

“Beautiful.”

The murmur is tattooed into your skin, invisible to the wandering eye.

“So—”

He unsnaps the bind.

“—fucking—”

Like a feral animal, his hand tugs once, twice, until it gives and unravels.

“—beautiful.”

Levi forgets himself when his eyes meet your breasts, and you see the way his pupils damn near dilate at the sight.

His lips part, slick from the way he licks between them, before he exhales one single curse like it's a prayer.

“Fuck.”

You stay perfectly still on your elbows, perched on an incline in his bed.

At a loss for words as he stares at your torso like it’s a work of art, your heart hammers in your chest as you telepathically plead with him to simply do whatever he wishes.

Anything he desires, so long as he moves.

Your voice dissolves to a whimper.

“Levi—”

“Can I?”

“Please.”

His own voice crackles like a spark readying a flame. You want to feel him, separated by the absence of muscle memory; to have his hands, his lips, scorched on your skin forevermore.

Levi gives into temptation and kisses south, his nose tracing in a straight line until both hands hold your breasts.

Hot sighs heavily flutter across your skin before those very lips kiss the rising bud they’d been seeking, causing your back to arch clear off of the bed. You whine, trying desperately to stay quiet.

Levi’s too busy worshipping the nipple in his mouth to chastise you for the sound.

His tongue swirls to harden it faster while his other hand massages the other breast, his calloused thumb rolling in the same direction.

Your nails dig into the sheets, anchoring your hands from clawing up his back.

“Levi.”

He hums around your nipple as his answer, its tone dismissive.

When you’re brave enough to open your eyes, you see that his eyes are completely closed — softened in an otherworldly ecstasy at the sheer feel of your body against his.

The sight shoots a dizzying amount of arousal to your belly.

When he switches it up and sucks, those eyes lazily open to stare up at you: a challenge to let him stay like this, to never leave.

He wouldn’t have to ask twice.

If this was your entire night, with Levi’s mouth on your chest while he lives in the memories of you old and new, then you’re inclined to say that there are worse ways to spend your time.

(No, you’re happy to say like this forever.)

Except a chill passes over your pampered breast as Levi kisses across it, abandoning your nipple to trail to the other side — 

Fuck.

“You’re going to kill me,” you rasp, too worked up to care if you sound wrecked.

“Won’t,” is all he replies as he dives back in, worshipping your body.

“Will,” you grit, trying your damnedest not to cry out from just how good it feels.

With one final kiss to your nipple, Levi detaches with mercy to shrug the pesky white button-down off of his shoulders.

The fabric joins the mounting pile of clothes on the floor, but his hands hesitate when they touch his belt.

His eyes notably flicker to your belt — a pause.

Deciding.

If it’s too soon—

If it’s too much —

No, you want to cry out. It’s not enough.

The words die on your tongue, possessed by the ghost that’s plagued your mind for months.

Instead you take action: sitting up on the bed, overly eager fingers tremble as they begin to unbuckle his belt, working at the leather straps crisscrossing his thighs and calves. 

“James.”

His voice is dying on his tongue; a singular syllable of surprise.

“Let me.”

You notice the way his abdomen tenses at your words as you tug the first belt from its loops.

“Are you s—”

“I said,” you slowly repeat, moving closer to kiss the trail of dark hair peppering just under his belly button. Levi exhales like he’s been punched. “Let. Me.”

Punctuating each word to show your seriousness, your eyes meet as he stares below.

Inch by inch, you press slow, meaningful kisses in his skin — first to the left, curving towards his hip. 

Your hands push down the trousers of his uniform pants, using the strength to drag the leather straps wrapping around his legs to fall with them.

Levi stands before you in merely white briefs, and there’s no hiding the immense arousal straining against the thin fabric.

The sight causes your breath to simply evaporate from your lungs, unable to stop staring.

From your peripheral you see the hand at his side flex then snatch into a fist to combat the desire to touch you.

He must feel guilt.

He must be so terrified that this moment will simply evaporate like the rest of your memories.

That you may have woken up, yes, but you can still fall back asleep.

You refuse.

“You can touch me,” you murmur into his skin, and Levi’s throat bobs. 

When he doesn’t move, you take the first at his side and systematically uncurl every finger.

He lets you.

Slowly, calculated, you raise his hand until it’s running over the crown of your head. His nostrils flare as he takes control, abandoning the guide of your hand to cup the side of your face.

A gentle thumb smears across your lower lip in reverence.

“I won’t break,” you tell him, knowing he’ll protest. Your voice drops to a hush. “I won’t.”

“I know,” is all he can reply — then your back hits the bed again, and he drops to his knees at the edge of the bed.

Levi disappears from your immediate line of sight, but you feel pressure on your hips: inch by inch, he’s undone the belt and buttons and yanked your uniform down your thighs, your knees, until they’re hanging at your ankles.

Oh.

One by one, he slips your feet from the pants and uses your ankles to widen your knees, bearing you to him at eye-level in just your white cotton underwear.

“Shit.” 

A feeble gasp escapes when his lips start at your left foot. 

You can’t see him, only feel him — he presses a tender kiss to your ankle then another just above it, creating a careful line up to your calf. His fingers gingerly curl around it to keep you steady as he ascends with his lips touching every single inch he can.

When he reaches your knee, you see it: the darkness in his gaze, how stormy his eyes have become, while making direct contact with you.

“Levi,” you moan, refusing to look away as he makes a point to stare at you while he nudges your left thigh further out to keep kissing it.

Stay awake.

Don’t forget this.

Don’t ever forget this again.

“Can I?” he asks, and you nearly miss the question in your intoxicated, aroused state.

You know.

You know exactly what he’s asking to do.

There’s no chance in hell you’d ever say no.

Wordlessly you nod, but Levi’s tongue darts out to taste the skin of your inner thigh. “Say it.”

(Fuck, when did he get so demanding?)

“Yes,” you exhale. “Yes, I want this. Want you.”

He doesn’t answer with words — a mere wanting growl takes their place.

Raven-black hair tickles your bare skin as he shifts, and strong arms drop to your rope under your knees.

With one swift tug, he drags you directly against his face, and the world becomes a myriad of brilliant colors.

Even if it’s a mere kiss to the cloth of your dampened underwear, you whine from the sheer desire flooding through your veins.

Maybe in another life, you would have teased him for his eagerness.

Maybe before the fall, you would have made him work for it, asked him to crawl to you, to beg.

Not this time.

You don’t have time to be coy, not when it’s been so long.

The tip of his tongue sensually drags up the center of your underwear, the slowness obscene. Your head slams back into the mattress with a soundless cry. 

The hot puffs of his breath tickle your inner thighs as he continues to swirl his tongue against the final barrier between you and his mouth.

“Please,” you beg, throwing all dignity to the wind.

He doesn’t seem to hear you.

Levi’s hands grip your hips firmly, keeping you in place as he continues to gather the taste of you on your panties.

When you have the courage to watch him again, you see that his eyes are closed.

Like he’s found some kind of paradise right here.

With you.

“Levi,” you whimper louder, voice terribly shattered, “Levi, Levi, please—”

His moans against your clothed clit damn near scrambles your brain.

Finally ending your torture, he pulls away to tug your soaked underwear down your thighs, your knees, until they drop to the floor of their own volition.

“Been dreaming of this,” he finally states, his voice several octaves lower and cracked. “The goddamn taste of you—”

He cuts himself off when he runs his thumbs down your folds, parting them with his thumbs.

If you weren’t so eager, then maybe you’d be embarrassed by how wet you were.

Dripping, really, from the way he worshipped your chest only minutes ago.

You almost scream when he dives in and kisses your clit, before his tongue languidly glides against it. By some miracle, you don’t.

His thumbs leave you in favor of holding open your legs for him as he feasts, refusing to allow them to close from the shock of the forgotten sensation.

With one hand grabbing the pillow above your head while the other threads through his hair, you’re unable to take your eyes away from how thoroughly he eats you out.

“Oh fuck,” you whisper, and the vibrations of his groans of agreeance damn near take you out.

The captain’s tongue explores every atom of you as if it has navigated this journey more times than he can count; as if he knows you better than you know yourself.

Because a part of you can remember —

The things you like.

The things you don’t like.

The hazy desires that plague heated dreams at night.

Yet Levi reaffirms them, teaches your body language right back to you, as his eyes lift from his task to yours to watch you watching him devour you whole.

Mesmerized, you stare back.

His lips close around your clit and suck as if to challenge you to look away, but all you can do is tense your abdomen and moan, louder this time, while your eyes flutter.

Stay open.

Don’t ever forget.

Lips parted with shaken breath, you witness this man mercilessly pleasures you.

Stares, so he knows that you’re still taken by him.

Worships, so he can remember what it’s like to finally have you in his bed after so many months apart.

It won’t take long to fall clear over the edge.

Not at this rate.

But you don’t want it to be over.

“Wait,” you whisper, “wait, I’m almost — I want you in—”

The second syllable of that word is lost in a sharp cry to the ceiling when he abandons solely sucking on your clit to focus instead on flickering side to side, rapidly, ensuring you’ll come no matter how badly you want to fall into bliss alongside him.

There’s no chance you can stave it off.

Your climax, a damn near year in the making, approaches like a bursting star.

“Levi—” you breathe, higher pitched than usual. “Levi, Levi, Le—”

You can’t finish the next syllable before you're surging off of the mattress, and he shoves you down against it by the hips so you don’t hurt yourself.

The world morphs and shapes into brilliant bright colors in the back of your skull as you come, and you do your damnedest not to shout.

As soon as your moan reaches its peak, your hand manages to smack against your mouth, muffling the strained screech.

His tongue slows down, instead focused on leisurely catching your essence with his mouth.

Greedily collecting every last drop.

So he doesn’t have to dream anymore, you realize.

So he never goes without again.

Panting heavily, your chest rises and falls rapidly as you try to remember which way is up.

“Holy shit.”

That doesn’t even begin to describe how otherworldly you feel at this moment.

“Levi…”

When you finally open your eyes, you see him resting his cheek against the inside of your thigh, nose and mouth glistening with the essence of you.

You’re not sure who is more satisfied.

“You okay?” he asks, softly this time.

Hardly a whisper.

You nod wordlessly, but hold your hand out for him. “Please?”

“Please what?”

“Let me have you.”

A storm flashes across his expression as he stands from the floor, his knee coming to rest on the edge of the mattress.

You can tell he isn’t putting his whole weight on it, avoiding the creaking of the bed frame as he contemplates.

“Not yet,” he murmurs, his fingertips running up and down your thigh absently.

“Why?”

“Because it’s been a while.”

The wandering fingers travel up, toying with the mess between your legs. Your hips jerk from oversensitivity, and a ghost of a smug smile passes across his lips.

“And I’m not rushing this.”

“Why?” you repeat, this time in a whine.

“Like I said—”

He begins, testing the give of your entrance as his middle finger pushes its tip into you.

You sharply gasp, forcing him to instantly stop. Those gray eyes flicker to your face.

“—it’s been a while.”

“I don’t care,” you state. “I can take it.”

“Well I do, so deal with it.”

There.

That commanding tone reserved for his position as captain pokes through, and it shoots straight to your lower belly.

Rocking your hips to try and force more of his finger into you, you shake your head wildly.

“You do realize that the more —”

His fingertip eases out, causing you to cry out in frustration. “Shh.”

There’s only so much sanity left in your body to plead your case.

“It — ah — the more time we spend away from the others downstairs—”

“As much as I like hearing you talk,” he reassures, voice dropping to a husk of its former self, “I really don’t want to discuss the whereabouts of anyone else when I could have my fingers inside you instead.”

Then that same finger suddenly pushes.

One knuckle.

Two.

Your head drops back when he buries his middle finger into you, unapologetic.

His free palm drops to the side of your head as he hovers over you, easing you to relax as he pushes one finger in and out.

The fringe of his black hair falls over his eyes, his face flushed with inexplicable lust.

“Do you remember our rule?”

Do you really expect me to think straight now? is what you want to say.

Instead you keep your eyes on him as he fucks you on one finger, too tight yet not nearly enough. You maintain eye contact, scrambling for an answer.

“With what?”

When his finger curls, you have to bite your tongue not to shriek.

“C’mon, James,” he purrs, the heel of his palm rubbing against your clit, “what’s my rule for you?”

Rules.

Rules, rules, rules—

Then it clicks, the puzzle piece unearthed deep from your psyche.

“Three,” you weakly whimper, realizing just what’s about to happen.

When we had our own place—

He nudges his index finger beside his middle finger, opening you up more.

You widen your legs with little shame, sinking into the sheets as this man thoroughly takes you apart in his captain’s bed.

—I always said I’d give you three.

“Think you can give me it?” he asks with feigned confidence.

You know what he’s really asking:

Is this too much?

Am I moving too fast?

Would this be taking advantage too soon?

The opposite; what he’s doing isn’t enough, because you know what you want.

You need to give him what he wants first before you reach your goal.

Belatedly, you nod emphatically.

“Good,” is all he replies in that baritone voice of his, before dropping down to kiss you when he curls his fingers again, relentlessly fucking you.

The kiss is maddening. Searing. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you try to keep up with the messy press of lips, all too eager to indulge in what it means to feel alive.

This.

This is what home feels like.

You never had to build it with nails and wood and insulation.

It was always in the person hovering above you, working you open with a sneaky third finger that causes a pathetic strangled moan to die on your lips the second his tongue dips into your mouth.

Relentless.

You’re so far gone that you don’t even realize you’ve already come a second time.

It’s Levi who pulls back, looking down at his hand as he keeps curling his fingers into you.

“Shit, already? Can feel you getting tighter– Fuck, James.”

Shaking from the less intense but no less amazing orgasm, you come silently on his hand as you melt into the sheets.

Stars blur your vision like the first snow of a winter.

Weightless.

Watching Levi pull his fingers out of you to immediately put them into his mouth, licking each digit clean, is an out of body experience.

Nothing to waste, nothing to lose — he relishes in the taste lingering on his tongue before you leisurely nudge him with your knee.

He’s still wearing his underwear, but his cock is practically ready to burst through the fabric. His hardness looks painful, the flush of his skin prominent against the ivory cotton.

“...do we still have condoms?”

Your voice is faint, an exhale at best.

His eyes widen briefly before his jaw clenches, and his hair flutters as he nods.

“Yeah. They… should be expiring in about two months.”

“But not right now.”

Levi considers your inquiry, searching your face. “Not right now, no.”

A moment of content silence passes, his eyes glued to yours.

You want to reassure him that you’re more than ready, that it’s been too fucking long since you’ve had him, that you need this more than anything you’ve ever needed in your life.

You can’t.

All you can do is beg, as you have this whole day.

“Please?”

His head drops in defeat, shoulders slumping.

All of the air leaves his lungs as he leaves your side to rummage in the nightstand by his bed, and you can see it clear as day on the hand that is still pressed to the mattress:

He’s trembling.

Sitting up on your elbow, you reach to gently place your palm over it. His attention whips back to you, first staring at your joined hands before looking back at you.

“Are you sure?” the captain asks, looking for complete and utter consent.

You open your mouth to respond, but Levi curls his fist over the condom foil and sits up taller.

His hand lifts the two of your hands together, switching their positions so your palm ends up on his cheek.

In a tender moment, his lips press a chaste kiss to its center.

“We can wait if it’s too much.”

You shake your head wildly. “It’s not too much.”

“You only just—”

“Levi.”

Exasperated, you crawl around him to slowly hike your bare leg over his hip.

Hovering over his lap, his eyes round when you snap the waistband of his briefs between pinched fingers. Instinctively his hand reaches to steady your bare hip.

“I know you have every good reason to worry that I could change my mind. That I could forget.”

He flinches, if only for a fraction of a second.

“But I never left you. I never stopped wanting to be near you. I never…”

Trailing off, you realize.

The words are right there on your tongue.

The image flashes through your mind: two kids just barely making sense of this cruel world, tangled together, when his whispered words tickled the shell of your ear.

Words that would change your life forever.

“I never stopped loving you.”

With a single blink, the lines on Levi’s weary face soften.

The captain’s throat bobs, swallowing the emotions that come with your confession. 

He speaks with a conviction unlike anything you’ve ever heard.

“...I never stopped loving you, too.”

Joy blossoms in the center of your chest as you lean in, capturing his lips in a kiss that seals the promise of forever. He kisses back just as eagerly, his hands leaving your body to push his underwear hastily down his hips. 

You hear the tear of a wrapper foil, feel the shuffling of his hands between your bodies, before lining up the tip of himself against your entrance.

You both stop.

Testing the give with a gentle nudge, you both let out a gut-punch exhale.

“Want you to set the pace,” he states against your lips, trying his damnedest to keep his voice from shaking. “Take whatever you want from me. It’s always been yours.”

Yours.

Nose to nose, you allow him to hold his hard and eager cock steady as you wrap your hand around the back of his neck for an anchor.

Levi lets out a shaken breath when you begin to sink, face flushed with sweat and arousal.

No going back.

(You never want to leave again.)

Inch by inch, you ease yourself onto Levi’s cock. Your eyelids flutter from the sheer ecstasy of finally, finally, having him inside you again.

The captain seated beneath you is oh, so focused, nostrils flared as he bites back a heavy groan.

Although it takes baby steps to get there — you rock your hips and fuck the tip of him, your body slowly relaxing enough to take up more of him — you eventually end up seated with your legs wrapped around his waist.

Levi instinctively curls a strong arm around your waist to keep you in place, looking utterly wrecked as he fully submits to your will. His brows are screwed tightly together, eyes struggling to stay open — to watch.

So you watch him, too.

When you lift yourself off of his cock and drag back down to the hilt, you both groan in harmony.

You can’t help it.

A smile bursts on your lips, stretched wide.

This.

This is where you’ve longed to be.

You roll your hips and ride your captain with reverence.

The room reverberates with the sound of skin against skin, your moans and his grunts, the squeak of a well-worn mattress on an ancient wooden frame.

To hell with subtly.

You don’t care who hears downstairs.

Once he has his own emotions under control, Levi memorizes your pace and begins to buck up in a thrust from below.

You gasp, and you see it: he smirks, his own confidence gaining on him.

“That’s my girl,” he groans, his words as finite as ash. “Fuck, there she is.”

The praise has your blood singing, burning, as you bounce on his cock with an urgency to bring him to his long-awaited climax — and your third. 

“I love you,” you tell him, earning a bitten-off grunt for him.

“Fuck, don’t,” he begs as he matches your pace, bringing himself deeper. “I’ll cum so fast.”

“Maybe I want that,” you tease.

“James,” he warns, pinching your nipple as punishment.

You can’t help but cry out, head dropping back. Levi takes the golden opportunity to lean in, kissing the column of your neck to mask his own needy moans.

The fingers once rolling your nipple as you ride him glide down your belly until they catch your clit, causing you to collapse into his chest. You whimper, and you can hear the utter filth against your ear as Levi picks up the pace.

“Love you.” You clench around him, causing him to hiss. “Shit, I love you so goddamn much. Feel so fucking good.”

“Levi—”

“I got you,” he promises, holding you up as he pounds into you from below. “Won’t let you fall. Gonna make me cum so hard, s’like you were made for me — fuck…”

He loses his train of thought as his fingers rub your clit in furious circles, desperate to get you to the same edge where he hovers.

Over and over you moan out his name, unable to even think straight as pleasure succumbs and fills every vein in your body.

From the way his rhythm is faltering, you know:

He’s close.

You’re not very far behind.

“I love you,” you tell him one more time under your breath, unable to say anything else beyond that and broken variations of his name.

His thrusts become more urgent as he answers between clenched teeth.

“I love you, too.”

“Let go.” 

You wrap your arms around his body to hold him close. 

“I’ll catch you, just let go.”

For what it’s worth, he holds on for a few seconds more. 

He gives you the performance of a lifetime as he thrusts up into you, running after his orgasm with a desperation reserved for you and you alone.

Then you feel it.

Levi grabs the back of your head and slams his lips to yours in one final, devastating kiss before you abruptly come around him.

Your muscles spasm and clamp down around him, milking him for all he’s worth before he’s moaning loudly against your mouth. 

He’s forced to fall off the deep end with you, coming inside you. 

You leisurely ride him through your joined orgasms until his hand comes to your hip, stilling your movements.

Eventually the fingers at your clit still, pressing against it to feel its erratic heart beat.

Forehead to forehead, the two of you stay here, catching your breath—

Refusing to part.

.

Author's Note:

taylor swift vc: it's been a long time coming...

If you've been around my blog for the last several months, then you know I got hit with the author curse (seasonal depression kicked my ass, my day job issued an RTO mandate, I was sick a few times, I have a surgery in late February) so the creative juices were not there. Apologies (and the biggest thanks!) to all who have been waiting so very patiently. To readers old and new, I am so grateful for your reblogs, comments, and inbox messages.

So I ask, after five long months away from you: how are we doing, Jevi Nation?

[14dayswithyou]

Good day😗

Is Ren a soft Yandere? He doesn't look like a regular Yandere I know, he just looks like a soft Yandere,

And one more question, how did the name [REDACTED] come about, does it have a hidden meaning? Sorry if I repeat the question

⌞♥⌝ Next time, I'd like to kindly ask that you read the pinned post and include the secret phrase. But because I get this question asked a lot, I'll answer it now.

I personally don't think Ren is a soft yandere by any means (barring when it comes to Angel), but I do think the reason why most people view him as such is because I barely receive any yandere-esque questions on Tumblr anymore, which has lead to this somewhat sanitised outlook on Ren ^^;

I typically receive very standard, mundane, and HR-appropriate asks (/pos, /nm) that don't encroach on that territory, so Ren's overall characterisation tends to end up being watered down into "generic, overly supportive boyfriend who's secretly obsessed with you". And while I genuinely have nothing against these family-friendly asks, they also don't really give me much room to talk about Ren in a more... morbid sense jhgjhsg

It's difficult for me to turn "How would Ren react to Angel owning a pet worm?", "Does Ren know how to make spaghetti?", "Can Ren play the saxophone?", etc, into something darker than it needs to be, but I also don't want to discourage folks from sending in these kinds of questions either. I know they're just curious and want to have their headcanons acknowledged, and again, I have nothing against these types of asks.

They're definitely fun to answer (/gen), but they just... don't give me much opportunity to take it a step further ;v;

Also! I'd like folks to be more aware of the fact that Ren is literally trying to come across like a normal person in the game, so I can't exactly showcase how far he's willing to take things without portraying him incorrectly or spoiling something. I know this is somewhat of a double-edged sword, but I've always been open to answering "what if" scenarios that take place in an AU/non-canon setting (such as how Ren would react if Angel wanted to partake in his Red Room activities).

Anyways!! Enough of that >:3 You also asked about how [REDACTED] came about, and it's literally just the placeholder text Ren uses during the library scene in day 1 to hide his real name from the player!

Folks started speculating that it was Ren's real identity slipping through, so they started referring to him as "[REDACTED]". It's also my way of differentiating between Ren and [REDACTED] without having to reveal his real name.

[zephyrchama]

Make barbatos fanfics pls

The memory of your recent mishap kept playing in your mind. It was a complete mistake - you hadn't intended to drench Barbatos in tea. Despite him being more than capable of protecting himself, you foolishly attempted to shield him from whatever toxic concoction Solomon was cooking up. One thing led to another, a massive pot fell over, there was an ear-deafening clang, and Barbatos was on the ground. Sopping wet.

He wasted no time in excusing himself to clean off, leaving you to bear the weight of your sins. Anyone could have easily cleaned the mess with magic, but Barbatos instead opted for a shower for some peace and quiet to calm down. Solomon was left to scrub the floor by hand since he started this issue in the first place.

As all of the castle's linens had been conveniently gathered in the laundry room to be inventoried, you took it upon yourself to grab a clean towel and deliver it to Barbatos.

You could hear the water running from down the hall. It was so loud, you weren't sure Barbatos could hear you. Wisps of steam escaped from the cracks around the bathroom door. You knocked. There was no answer.

"Barbatos?" you called, knocking again. There was no answer. Only the running of water. He was probably already in the shower. You could take this opportunity to grab his soiled uniform and clean it before the stains permanently set in.

With that plan of action, you opened the door. Barbatos was not in the shower, despite the running faucet. In fact, Barbatos was stark naked in the middle of the room. A washcloth in his hand indicated he had already obtained his own towels. He had his back to the door, as if he was just about to enter the tub. He made eye contact with you over his shoulder, eyes wide.

That one second felt like an hour.

His posture was superb. A mix of tea and condensation from the muggy bathroom air trailed down the curve of his spine, fine enough to be in a medical textbook. Your eyes followed, down to the base of his tail and the derriere behind it. Two fabulous, firm full moons. A sight rarer than anything else in all the three realms.

"Did you need something?"

Barbatos' usual polite tone was punctuated with umbrage. He placed a hand on his chest, as though shielding his visage.

"I'm sorry!" were the first words you spat out, on reflex. Coherent thinking failed you in the face of such art. Sentences started falling out of your mouth and you hoped they made sense. "I thought you might need a towel, so I got one from the laundry and came to give it to you. I knocked! I did, I knocked, but you didn't answer so I came in to leave this."

You held the towel forward with both hands as an offering. "And I was gonna collect your clothes so I could wash them. As an apology for, ah, that other thing I did. Sorry."

You stared at the ground. Even Barbatos' ankles were pristine. A little bony, tapering down at the sides that led to his slender feet. You watched his weight shift as his tail curled closer to his body.

"How thoughtful. I'd appreciate if you could hang it on the towel bar. I will handle my clothes myself, later."

"Right, of course." You swiveled and diligently hung the towel up. The dirty clothes in question were on the ground, still soaking wet, neatly folded in a square. You looked from them back to Barbatos. He was rooted in place, not budging in the slightest. One wrong move, and who knew how much you'd see?

More than the current eyeful, that's for sure. More than the slope of his shoulders. More than the rise and fall of his upper body with each fresh breath. More than the sight of his wet hair clinging to the curve of his jawbone and the tenseness in his arm when his painted fingernails wrapped around the tiny washcloth.

"Do you need anything else?" he asked. An obvious cue for you to leave.

"I'm good," you said. It was hard not to ogle at the size of his waist fully unobscured by clothing, and its ratio to his hips. "Do you... need any help?"

"I am fine. I will be taking my shower now." His voice echoed around the bathroom as you finally left. It echoed around your head, too, when he said, "be good and wait for me."

[shuenkio]

㊚ — 𝕳𝖆𝖏𝖎𝖒𝖆 | 성훈

Parring : Sunghoon X M!reader

Synopsis : With this brat attitude of yours he needs to discipline you, backbeing his good boy.

Genre : Smut. Cw : cursing, creampie, mlm, dirty talk etc

Non proof read English is not my first.

This is a work of fanfiction, do not throw unnecessary tantrums on this nsfw/sfw blog. ©Shuenkio

These past few days, Sunghoon has caught his boyfriend acting out of control lately, the fact that he made it worse for him to read, to understand him, even though you were already that stoic or should we be called tsundere. The taller ones never get angry easily but you just know how to press his right button harder and harder, till he couldn't bear it any longer, the consequences will never be good.

Once you were finally home from your task, Sunghoon was already there, folding his arms together while he was still in his slumber robe. You greet him lazily, not a single word comes out of your mouth, before walking past him and go fresh up by taking a water bottle in the fridge, gulping down your throat.

Sunghoon grits his teeth, jaw tighten however he needs to remain calm, a chance can still make his boyfriend change from this unusual attitude.

"Where have you been without opening your phone and texting your boyfriend hm? Are you fucking single?" Sunghoon's fire up, started the conversation with his bit of irritated.

You shrugged, did not give a damn to answer his question fully, honestly.

"you know me well, why should I tell you. I have to pick up groceries today" message your eyes with a roll, you unload all of the stuff and put it in place, under Sunghoon's pierce eagle eye with a burning flame about to burst. Yet Sunghoon knows too well about his lover, the answer that spits out of your lip, are not 100 the truths, because of your smell of alcohol.

The atmosphere remains dead silent, before it was broken by the sudden chuckle of Sunghoon. The burning flame started to rise from 100 to 1000, not only you're lying with something else, the matter of fact that this attitude of yours needs to be disciplined by him, until you're right again.

While minding your own business, Sunghoon's taller frame shadow hover you, his cold and calm presence that you always sense fade away, replaced by the heat and warmth that send a chill down to your spine.

"we need to fix this attitude of yours M/n, you've been a bad boy these days that driving me insane, I think I should fuck the brain out of you until you can't walk for a week, to know what's wrong with you, Isn't that right to you?" Sunghoon's warm breath brushing against your earlobe that causes goosebumps through your skin. Whispering a warning that you know you're fuck up already, there's no turning back or apologize.

///-///

Yours and his clothes are scattered on the floor, not even a single fabric to cover. With both of your wrists being hostage by Sunghoon's single massive palm, that left a red print on yours. Not to mention, your body is fully naked to his sight, exposing everything off. Your smaller length is hard rocking but didn't make your boyfriend impressed yet instead you catch him laughing.

"Oh puppy, fucking look at your dick and mine can you tell the difference? Holy shit" He said in a low roughly tone, smirked at the corner of his lip, a mischievous grin spread across his face as he enjoys the compared, size difference between you and him. Your smaller frame is the obvious answer. Sunghoon's cock alone is almost as big as your forearm that is hard throbbing flesh, twitching at the dirty words he had said out himself. A bead of precum already glistened at the swollen, mushroom-shaped tip, a testament to his heightened arousal.

You open your mouth to speak but none coming out, Sunghoon's fire aura is dangerously at the moment, if something slips out of your mouth mistakenly, surely he will be determined to make you can't walk for real.

Without any hesitation, the taller frame did not care to grab any lube, he paused to savor your beautiful body, the curve, the leaking of your dick, and the twitching arching hole of yours, for a split minutes as he slowly stroking his enormous length ready to breaking you into two.

The steady breathing was replaced by sharp hiss of pleasure, once he finally thrust in balls deep of his inhuman cock size into the hilt of your hole, driving the thick head of his cock past your tight rim in one hard, brutal stroke. The scorching heat and impossible tightness engulfed him like a vice as he hilted himself fully inside his lover, his heavy balls slapping against your ass, making you feel all of his cock.

"Hoy fuck M/n how can you be so tight than the last time I've fucked you ughh—" he roared, his eyes wild and feral as Sunghoon angled his hips to drive against that secret spot deep inside with every thrust, knowing he'd found it when you let out a choked cry, your body clenching down around him like a silken, scorching glove.

"Y'know what? Your behavior is unacceptable these past few days AHH— FUCK you dare to ignore me, shut me down, and act like an independent idiot! now you have the balls to lying to me? — Who tf went to groceries and come back, smelling like a fucking drunk person??" Sunghoon poured all his bottle emotion that was caused by you, by slamming his pelvic between your buttocks, relentlessly, harder than animals, as he determined to make you feel numb in the legs, to be filled until you pump full of his cum, that you'd be leaking for days and weeks, remember every inches of his veins throbbing gigantic cock, until you won't overdo your mistake again.

Knowing your wrong action, you can't help but cry in pain and pleasure, accept all of his punishment without pushing him away.

With another guttural, animalistic roar that seemed to shake the very walls of the room, he buried himself to the hilt one last time and exploded. As thick, tacky ropes of cum painted your inner walls. His cock jerked and pulsed as he emptied his heavy balls deep inside you for a whole minute straight without stopping, marking his territory, claiming his lover in the most primal way possible. With intense pleasure, Sunghoon's orgasm triggers click in you, as a tidal wave of cum, burst out, making you cum uncontrollably after him.

He breaks down on the top of you, both of them panting and trembling in the aftermath of their release. He nuzzled into your neck, pressing sloppy, open-mouthed kisses suddenly against your sweat-dampened skin as he fought to catch his breath. No one seems to care about the musky and sex scent that become the heavy smell in the room, yet only to fuel them even more turn on.

"All I want is good for both of us, and you. I never wanted to hurt you but you brought this to yourself. So don't do it again ok? I fucking crazy over you and you know damn well, be back as my m/n I used to know hm?" Sunghoon declares adoringly, holding you close as the last waves of his intense climax rolled through him.

"im--- sorry--- I'll be your good boy---sorry"

Funtalk : if I say I wrote this with 12 inches big of Sunghoon in mind, would you flinch? 🥰

An: anyway I'd love to hear comments from anyone, should I continue to be this frankly or meh? Or even worse (⁠ ͡⁠°⁠ᴥ⁠ ͡⁠°) ? Your thoughts matter pookie ⬇️

Ctto pics & dividers.

[pinkyqily]

TWO HOOLIGANS INLOVE | JuJu watkins x teammate!reader

Summary: Just you and juju acting foolishly in front of the press

Warning: fluff, use of yn a few times

A/n: This isn't accurate to the actually games so don't bite me, fic is apart of my new series called hooligans inlove this isn't the first part so watch out for that, if you have any juju requests send em my way if you have any feedbacks feel free to leave them happy reading readers 🌹

Usc had just won the game against uconn. You, juju, and Ray had been called for media. After a phenomenal performance from the three of you.

coach knew it was going to be crazy having you and juju up there, but with Ray too, she could only hope y'all would be on your best behavior.

"Now, before you guys head up there, I need you to be on your best behaviors. She told all three of you, "Come on, coach me and yn are good, juju just the problem here." Ray told coach while sending diggers towards juju way

"There's no way I'm getting blamed right now." JuJu yelled, losing her so-called nonchalant chil.

"Can we get going already? No one has time for you two idoits arguing." You told the two girls as you make your way to the conference room." Bro, hold on." You didn't have to turn your head around hearing your annoying girlfriend and teammate calling you, bro.

"Who are you calling bro Judea?". You said out as you stopped in your tracks, staring at juju with your arms crossed around your chest. Ray voice Intervene swinging her arms around you and juju.

"Come on guys, let's not argue."

"If she calls me bro one more time, it gonna end up with more than an argument." You told them both. JuJu, who knew what was best for her, stopped calling you bro but couldn't wipe away the stupid smirk on her face as you guys sat down.

The press was going well Juju and Ray made a few jokes here and there when answering questions until it was your turn to answer some Juju had decided now was the perfect time to be distracting you.

Anytime you got a question she would turn her whole head and body towards you as she looked deep in your eyes not taking off contact.

"So what do you think about this win against uconn and how we're you guys able to come back from previous games?" A reporter asked directing the question to you.

"Um the win was definitely a hard fought and we definitely brought in our all I think we're able to learn from our previous game against,

them on what to do and not to do-.you stopped mid sentence to say, "ju can you stop staring at me like your life depends on it." You told the girl as you guys secretly held hands under the table.

"I'm doing no such thing." She said after looking away.

"Whatever." You told her, but this time yanking your hand away from hers under the table only for her to grab it back

"Can y'all stop wasting the people's time?" Ray spoke up with a slight teasing tone, she was stuck sitting in the middle of two drunk inlove players while it was entertaining she didn't want to be no 3rd wheel

"Um, sorry for that interruption." cough cough as you did that while side eying juju.

"One last question for juju, what did you think of yn performance today and how she contributed to the team performance wise".

"I think that her performance today was topnotch, probably one of her best, she contributed a lot by getting really involved with defense and offensive if I can say so myself she brings a lot to the team when she can".

You found yourself starring back into juju eyes as she spoke there was always something about her that made you feel all warm inside you couldn't tell if it was because you haven't let her hand go or something else.

It felt like only you two were in the room, and that's until Ray voice brought you back to earth. "I think you both got staring problems at this point." She told you as the room erupt with laughter.

Anyone in there could sense the growing tension between you and juju. From the way you both spoke about each other to the not so subtle touches, anyone could tell you're both madly in love.

You guys got up heading back to the rest of them, team.

"Ugh, I can already see the edits coming about you two so nasty." Ray told y'all as she made a gaging sound.

"Oh please, they aren't that bad". You told her

"Not bad, juju was basically undressing you with her eyes, and you sat there eating it up."

"Not my fault that my girl a baddie." JuJu said as her hand brushed against yours. It was little things like this that got you worked up, and she knew it.

"At least I've been promoted from bro to my girl." You told both girls making them laugh.

Before you knew it, clips from the press were already going viral.

Some people called juju whipped sum saying, "You we're complaining even though you were down bad for juju too, people fighting about you guys being gf while others disagree and say you're a couple."

[whiskis]

The commander's mate (part 1?)

A/N: Two SFW stories in a row, sorry, my brain is not really horny this week. That said, part 2 of this lil snippet everyone loved, enjoy!

Alien x fem!reader|| SFW, hurt/comfort || tw: kidnapping

"You are going to take the million and shut up if you don't want your brain blown for keeping a commander's mate imprisoned on a pet shop," he replied, his gun already out as your brain spiraled with the info he just let out.

What did he mean by “mate”? Did aliens talk in Australian lingo? You highly doubted that, and your brain was already scrambling to get a response. Maybe… Maybe your monsterfuckery books weren’t so wrong after all, maybe he was talking about that kind of mate. But that couldn’t be, could it? There was no way you got kidnapped from earth and thrown into a monster pet shop just for an alien to find you and claim you as his mate. That couldn’t be possible. Your life wasn’t like that…

It was a dream. That was it. Everything you just saw and experienced was a dream. You didn’t get kidnapped. You didn’t wake up on a pet cage with a very angry gobling-pet-store-owner screaming at you in a language you didn’t understand. Nope. A dream. That explained it. That explained everything.

You pinched your side and pressed your eyes shut tightly. Wake up, wake up, wake up… You repeated to yourself over and over.

A warm big hand touched your bicep and you almost shoot into the stratosphere when you jumped up, scared. You opened your eyes in a rush and found the alien staring back at you, his eyes tender. “Little human, it’s time to go.” His voice was a lot sweeter than before, equally deep, but soothing in a way.

Your scared brain couldn’t work properly and a thousand questions piled in the front of your mind, but the first that escaped your mouth was: “How do you know my language?” He didn’t have an accent, but you knew he didn’t learn English at school like you did.

He covered your hand with his much bigger one, he was crouching in front of the cage, but still towered over you by far. “I’ve been to earth many times, little human,” he explained. He was rubbing soothing circles over the back of your hand, and your body was slowly melting.

It ached, you ached, to be closer to him. But you denied yourself of that, you didn’t understand what your body was feeling, maybe it was Stockholm syndrome or something. Even if that syndrome was bullshit and he wasn’t the one who kidnap you.

“Why?” You asked. You didn’t exactly know about what you were asking, you only knew… need. Need like no other. To know. To meet. To touch. It was driving you slowly made not to be as close to him as possible. You crawled to him, and he helped you out of the cage, but you were still on the floor as he crunched next to you.

“Political affairs. I know your world leaders very well,” he said with a chuckle, his mouth tilting in something that (you hoped) was a try to smile but looked more like a grimace. That only answered part of your confusion, but at last it was something.

“Who are you?” You finally let out, your brain clearing enough to question him on the important part. Being closer to him made your mind clearer, and that should scare you. But it didn’t, you couldn’t be scared when he was so close.

“I am the commander of the intergalactic alliance,” he let out in a formal tone, just to go back to his shooting one when he added: “and I’m your mate, my lovely human.”

“Like the Australians?” You asked, trying to make sense of something.

He laughed, throwing his head back and arching his neck in a way that made your mouth water to bite him. Where the fuck did that thought come from? You stepped closer, his body so close to yours that you could feel the heat emanating from his colorful skin.

“No, little human. Not like the Australians,” and that was everything he said as he took your hand, and helped you up, leading you away from the creepy monster pet shop.

A/N: Reminder that you can read all my other stories back in @monstersflashlight (all organized in this masterlist), thanks for reading!