#does it piss me or other people off? that doesn’t matter!

[wickjump]

“respect the characters” i am very sure they don’t care. i am extremely very definitely sure that they do not give a fuck. how do i know this? they are not real. thank you

i hope everyone who preaches about how the only way to enjoy fandom spaces (especially in this fandom) is by strictly abiding by canon interpretations and thinks everyone else is ruining fandom spaces remembers that uwu baby cutesy dream is not in fact fanon but very much so how dream is canonically portrayed so if you want to stick strictly to canon and villainize fanon you’re gonna have to make that guy fucking insufferable and infantilized to hell and back sorry. it’s canon and if you do anything else you don’t actually deserve to be in the fandom that’s just how it works i guess

[nadvs]

just one time (one-shot)

pairing rafe cameron x kook! female reader

rating explicit 18+

summary you’re constantly venting to rafe about how unlucky you are in love. one night, he gets fed up hearing about your insecurities and finally shows you how badly he’s always wanted you.

tags best friends to (temporary) lovers. alcohol mention. filthy smut. angsty ending. divider credit.

Rafe Cameron gives it to people straight. Hell will be an ice rink before he offers anyone words that have been coated with sugar.

He’s been like that since you befriended him in the twelfth grade, when you both donned private school uniforms and jaded scowls that had no business being on the faces of privileged teenagers.

The only thing steady about Rafe is his honesty. It’s why you go to him for the truth. You know your best friend will dole it out without a single inhibition holding him back.

And it’s what you desperately need right now.

You’re lying in your bed and holding your thumb against your phone screen, every passing second cracking your heart a little more.

The cycle continues, the curse lives on – another man you have growing feelings for has indirectly rejected you, this time through a story on social media. The photo shows his hand holding a woman’s over a car console, paired with a sappy caption.

When you saw him last weekend, you ended the date with a kiss. He’s been on your mind since, while he probably forgot about you the second he drove off your street. He’s already with another woman. One he actually likes.

The all too familiar feeling of inadequacy screws a hole into your chest. You hate that something as trivial as validation from the men you date can hit you this hard, but it can and it does.

It’s a pattern now. Your texts go unanswered, your crushes unrequited, and at this point, you need to know what it is about you that men deem so unwantable.

You need Rafe and his unwavering disposition for telling the truth, no matter how ugly it is. You text him: come over?

He responds: What’s up? I’m with the guys.

You reply: need your opinion on something when you stop being too busy for me.

Maybe if you ask nicely.

You scoff to yourself. Typical Rafe, acting like time with him is a gift. You text: jerk.

Damn. Right to calling me names. Is it that bad?

You close the conversation, knowing you’re taking your disappointment out on him, but too pissed off to curb it. He lets his anger drive him; it’s rubbed off on you.

You’re just as upfront with him as he is with you. While he can tell you if you’re overreacting about a fight with a girlfriend, you can tell him when he’s been drinking too much. Honesty is the foundation of your friendship and you both hinge on this hard but necessary way of caring for each other.

After a few minutes, Rafe texts: I’ll head over soon. You know him well enough to imagine the annoyed huff he let out when he gave in to you and typed out the message.

As expected, Rafe’s friends give him shit when he tells them he’s leaving to see you. They’ve been like that for years, jeering him for being so soft for a girl who doesn’t even put out.

But their taunting doesn’t get under his skin. They don’t understand that Rafe could count the things he cares about on one hand and that you’re one of them.

They don’t know him as well as they think. They were all friends when he was an eighteen-year-old with a chip on his shoulder, but they had no clue what he was going through.

They didn’t know that he wasn’t getting any sleep because the fighting echoing through the walls at home kept him up. They didn’t know how hard he took the catastrophic divorce he had to watch unfold. They didn’t know how badly he needed to escape.

But you did. You let him slump next to you at the back of class for an entire semester, sleeping while you took two sets of notes. You reminded him to bust his ass until the end of the school year, giving him the tough love he needed to graduate.

And it was all because of one night, at a party, when he drunkenly confessed to you how shitty his life was and how he just wanted to make his dad proud after his mom left.

He’s never said it to you, but he owes you for pulling him out of the hole he’d fallen into back then. You were just a pretty girl assigned to sit next to him, until you became more, and he’s kept you close since.

Your bedroom is dimly lit. He doesn’t know what it is, if it’s a perfume or shampoo or cream you use, but he knows that he finds relief when he smells the familiar fragrance that means you’re around.

You shut your door behind him, falling into bed on your back, your hands over your eyes.

“Tell me,” he says, settling onto the edge of your bed. The mattress sinks with his weight. “Why’d I come all the way over here?”

“What’s wrong with me?” you ask.

Rafe’s eyes trail to where your shorts end, the flesh of your thighs tantalizingly swelling past the hem.

“A lot,” he jokes.

You sit up and he looks away. It’s a skill he’d mastered, forcing his eyes off of you at the right moment so you don’t catch him staring.

“Seriously,” you say, a tremble in your voice that you weren’t expecting. “I want to know.”

The hardness in his face fades, his stare melting into something gentler.

Moments like these, you see the guy you knew in school, the one who’d pretend he was heartless, when really, his emotions ran layers deeper than he ever let on.

“What do you mean?” Rafe asks.

“Why does every guy I like treat me like I’m nothing special?”

His hardness reappears, like a light being switched on.

“This shit again?” he mutters. “You called me over to talk about guys?”

“Be honest. What is it about me?”

He sighs your name in frustration, having heard this so many times. This is territory he refuses to go into with you.

If he’s honest, you’ll find the desire he’s hidden away from you and it’ll open a door he won’t be able to slam shut.

Feelings don’t last. Love is a joke. He learned that young. He’s not about to put himself through the same lesson and fuck things up with his best friend just because he finds her so agonizingly attractive.

“I need the truth,” you say. “I liked this guy and I thought he liked me, too, but he’s with another girl now and–”

“And what?” Rafe interrupts. “Did you want to marry him? You’re always crashing out over losers.”

You inch closer to him and pull your knees up to your chest, your stare doleful.

“Are they all losers?” you say. “Or are some of them right that I’m missing something?”

“You need to get your shit together,” he says sternly.

“I’m know I’m being pathetic,” you say. You gaze at him, at the crease between his brows, at the way his lips firm when he’s irritated. “But it’s just… what’s wrong with me?”

“Nothing.”

“You’re being nice and I hate it.”

“Being nice,” Rafe repeats in a disbelieving huff.

“Just tell me what to fix.”

A tense silence blankets you both, you anticipating harsh words, him clueless as to what to do.

“Call one of your girlfriends for this,” he says, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I love them, but they’d just give me a pep talk and say that guys are intimidated by me or something,” you say. “This is why I called you.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Come on. I hear the gross way you talk about girls with your friends,” you reply.

Countless times, Rafe’s vulgarities have fallen on your ears, evidence of his rough and untamed edges. You’ll never be more than friends and that’s okay, because if he ever were to find a girl that he wants to be serious with, she’d have to tolerate his temper, his narcissism, his volatility.

And while you love him, you could never love him like that.

“Just pretend I’m a stranger,” you continue. “What would you say to your friends about me if you saw me enter a room?”

Rafe would rather not imagine you as a stranger. The thought of his life without you makes an empty feeling spiral in his gut.

He wants you from any distance. He craves the taste of your tongue, something he’s never even had. He dreams about your legs wrapped around his hips. He wants to hear the noises you make when you’re drunk in pleasure.

Fuck. Had he known he was walking into this, he never would have gotten into his car.

“Rafe,” you say impatiently, oblivious to the irritation that turns inside him whenever you force these types of conversations.

“For the fiftieth fucking time, you don’t need to change anything,” he says. “It’s like I’m talking to a wall.”

You exhale slowly and look down to your bedsheets, so used to his abrasiveness that it doesn’t even leave a scratch.

“That guy kissed me when he dropped me off,” you mumble. “Maybe I’m a bad kisser and that’s why he isn’t into me.”

Rafe’s eyes lower to your lips, glossy from the way you’d just licked them, and he can’t imagine those lips going anywhere near him and not being appreciated for it.

“I doubt it’s that,” he relents. You meet his blue eyes.

“You think so?” you ask.

“You’d know if you were bad at it,” he says. The square of his sharp jaw tenses.

“How?”

“You can just tell,” Rafe says. “Seriously… just get it together. You’ll be fine.”

He shuffles to stand up, but you pull him back by the crook of his elbow, your touch sending an electric current through his body.

“Why are you being more of an asshole than usual?” you ask. “Did something happen?”

He tries not to drown in your gaze, but he does, comforted by the sympathy that nobody else offers him.

“I can’t hear you saying this shit about yourself,” he admits. “And whatever I say just doesn’t register.”

“Rafe, be real with me. I know my body isn’t perfect and I know I’m not the prettiest girl around, so it’s not like I’m delusional.”

He scoffs. You are delusional. And it chips away at him, listening to you list your insecurities, ones that have no basis in reality.

You’re fucking beautiful and you have nothing to change and he doesn’t know nor care why the morons you date don’t see it.

“I can take the truth,” you repeat. “I think you’re just scared to be honest because you don’t want to hurt me.”

Your chest rises and falls with gentle breaths. Your eyes search his with caring curiosity. You’re enveloped in privacy for the millionth time, but he hasn’t ever felt this tempted to give in.

And he finally breaks.

“Kiss me, then. I’ll be honest,” Rafe murmurs, selfish and selfless at the same time.

Shock doesn’t touch your features, not for a second. You know he’d do anything for you, even go to these types of measures to prove you wrong.

You lean forward, your lips hesitatingly pressing on his. You slowly melt into the kiss, and it’s too easy to overlook the fact that the lips on yours are your best friend’s, as you’re revelling in how soft his lips are and tasting a hint of whiskey and savoring the arousal coiling in your core.

Your noses brush together as you push closer, perching on your knees, breath hitching when his big hands cradle your face.

His ring presses against your cheek, the ring you’ve seen him wear over so many years, and its hardness is a reminder of how long you’ve known him, how insane it is to be doing this with him.

He pulls back, dying to know if you feel it too, the spark sizzling in the air, the fire despairing to be stoked.

“You’re good,” he rasps, his breath warm on your cheek, hands still cupping your jaw.

“Just good?” you whisper sadly.

“Fuck,” Rafe mutters. His muscles are stiff and his boxers are getting tighter. He’ll go as far as you’ll let him go so he can prove to you that the words describing how badly he wants you don’t exist.

His grip firms, pulling you into him again. The more of your taste that he gets, the more he wants. He’s hungry for you, ravenous, and if you’re letting him finally surrender to his appetite, he’ll stop putting up this bullshit front that he doesn’t fantasize about you.

Your tongues run over each other’s, lips smacking as he pushes you down to your back.

Your mind is spinning. This is Rafe. The man who looks at you like you’re one of the guys, who tells you about his noncommittal hook-ups, who feels nothing but friendship for you.

Logic is dulled by lust and you give in completely. You hook an arm around his neck, writhing beneath him, begging for some friction.

He shifts to put his thigh between your legs as if you’ve done this before, giving you relief when you grind up against him. You’re tumbling into mindless bliss, starved for him, for the validation he can give you.

He’s hard against your thigh. It makes desire heat you from the inside out. You’re friends, but you’re not ignorant to the fact that he’s the most attractive man you know, so feeling his body’s charge for you is intoxicating.

You lower a hand, feeling for the bulge beneath his jeans, touching him in a way you never would have expected to, feeling yourself getting wetter.

Rafe ducks his head, teeth nipping at your neck, hips rolling into yours as you stroke his cock, too many layers of clothes between you.

“You’re fucking hot, alright?” he murmurs into your ear. You can only nod as you continue to rub his length, anticipating how he’ll feel inside of you. “I’ll prove it to you.”

“Just one time,” you whisper, because even though you’re lost in the moment, you’re not so stupid that you won’t build a safeguard around your heart.

You’ve already been fooled by the familiar emotions rushing through you, tricking you into thinking that a man wanting to fuck is a man capable of love.

You need to remember it, especially now. You know Rafe. He doesn’t want love and he doesn’t want to give it.

“One time,” he echoes. “Take your shirt off.”

You’re trembling beneath him, your words caught in your throat, eagerly shifting to pull your top over your head. The moment you’re left in your bra, he digs his head into your chest, hands gripping your tits tightly, breathing in sharply.

Rafe’s kisses are sloppy and heated and he roughly pulls down the cups of your bra, exposing you, stabilizing himself on his elbows as he drinks in how goddamn perfect you are.

The closest he’s ever been to seeing you naked in the past was when he’d notice the peaks of your nipples under a shirt or a bikini. He’d imagine how they’d feel in his mouth. He doesn’t have to imagine anymore.

His lips close around your nipple, sucking and licking, earning soft, surprised moans from you. Your hand finds his hair, fingernails dragging over his scalp as he wets your chest with his spit.

“Wow,” you breathe. You can feel yourself clenching for him, your hips stuttering in need. Your hands drag down his back, bunching up his t-shirt.

He sits up to pull it off and throw it to the floor, looking down at you, his body broad and hard and heaving. You spread your legs wider, slowly pitching your hips forward with desperate eyes.

His lips part like he’s about to say something, but he speaks with his body instead, resting his hand between your legs to slowly stroke his thumb over you. You sigh in pleasure when he rolls over your clit, silently begging him to take what’s left of your clothes off.

Rafe keeps his eyes on yours when his fingers hook under your shorts, wriggling to make sure he’s captured the band of your panties, too. He drags them down your legs, gazing at you like he’s never seen a naked woman before, his face pinched in awe.

“God,” he moans. He doesn’t waste a second. His chest is on your bed, his head between your legs, and his open mouth makes contact, hot and wet and perfect.

He laps at you, drool rolling down the side of his mouth, his face drenched in your arousal. You gaze at him through half-lidded eyes, gentle whimpers spilling out of your mouth.

The thought of someone not wanting you feels like an unknown concept, like something that never even crossed your mind. He’s ravishing you like he’ll die if he stops.

He’s licking and sucking with abandon, reaching every inch, dipping his tongue inside and sighing in pleasure simply from tasting you.

“Your pussy’s so sweet,” he rasps against your inner thigh. “I’m going to fuck you so fucking hard. Say you want it.”

You throw your head back in ecstasy, thoughts a tangled mess. This is not what best friends are supposed to do. You don’t care.

“Please,” your voice comes out weak and honeyed, eyes shut. “Now.”

Anticipation rolls through you when you hear Rafe unzip his pants. His jeans are bunched up at the end of your bed and he hovers over you and you’re so glad that he doesn’t wait.

He holds himself at his base, guiding into your heat, filling you quickly, the pressure hard but perfect.

Your stomach numbs when he bottoms out and surrounds you in himself, the realization hitting you like a wave that he’s inside you right now, that he feels you as intensely as you feel him, that your bodies are joined in a way you never thought they would be.

He rocks back to thrust into you, your body jolting, your legs wrapping around him. He finds a rhythm, every push into you paired with a heavy exhale as his cheek presses against yours.

The line between you blurs and breaks with every movement.

“Tell me you’ll stop talking like that,” Rafe demands. He rolls his eyes from the thrill of how tight you are around his cock, squeezing him in hot, wet velvet. It’s so much better than he imagined.

“I will,” you promise. His chest is firm and hot against you, skin sticking with sweat.

“I don’t want to hear it anymore,” he whispers, voice strained. “I want you to remember how bad I wanted to fuck you whenever you think that stupid shit about yourself.”

“Yes,” you whisper. Rafe doesn’t care enough to lie. Even if he wanted to, he couldn’t fake what you do to him. He’s being honest when he says there’s nothing about yourself that you need to change.

He’s driving into you at a perfect angle, giving your clit sweet friction against his groin, pulling you closer into an orgasm. Your hands are on his hard back, feeling his muscles tense and loosen.

He kisses your neck, telling himself to remember every single detail. Your noises and your aroma and your touch. You said it yourself, just one time, and you’re right, because he’s never had his heart involved in sex like this.

It’s fucked up and wrong for him to feel what he’s feeling. He’s proving a point, he’s indulging a fantasy, and that’s it.

“Shit,” you whisper, back arching as the coil in you gets closer to snapping. “I’m…”

You come with a shudder, your entire body tightening around him, fireworks sparking every single nerve in your system. Pleasure pools you from head to toe, leaving you shaking.

Rafe groans when he feels you flutter around him, pulsating with your peak. He starts to thrust harder and sloppier, dismissing the notion of making this last and instead giving in to the impulse to take the same satisfaction he’s given you.

He comes inside you with a hitched breath, his mouth open at the crook of your neck as a rush of euphoria rips through him.

And he collapses. Body against body, still inside you, panting with you, blissed out and so fucking confused.

The lust dissolves and reality sinks in and he can tell by the look on your face that you’re thinking the same thing when he pulls out: What the fuck did you just do together?

It comes with years of knowing each other; he can read your expression, not needing to hear the words to know you regret this, too.

You sit up, pulling your sheet over your chest, eager to pretend there’s a boundary even after what you’d just done.

“I believe you now,” you say with a thin voice, desperate to somehow put back together the pieces you’d just shattered, even through a lighthearted joke. “You fixed me.”

Despite himself, Rafe huffs a chuckle, leaning against the wall, following your cue to cover up, acting like you hadn’t just plunged into an unreal level of intimacy.

You stare at each other from across the bed, the weight of your friendship, all the shared memories and inside jokes and ridiculous arguments and promise of an uncomplicated bond, now on shaky ground.

His eyes travel over your pretty features, having never felt this after sex. Satisfied, but famished for more.

“I didn’t mean for… I mean, that’s not why I called you,” you say awkwardly. You take in his pink cheeks, the sweat sheened over his skin, his lips wet and parted. “I… didn’t plan this.”

“I know,” he replies. “Me, neither. It was just one time.”

“Right,” you say.

It’s what you agreed to.

He wanted to prove something to you and he did.

And if you have any respect for each other, if you have any cares for keeping your friendship and not messing it up with sex any more than you already have, you know it’ll need to stay that way.

Just one time.

(the end)

[bakugoushotwife]

in my opinion, gojo’s storyline has been handled so so poorly i can’t help but think it’s intentional. it is not bad writing to kill a character—even a beloved character. i know most people will dismiss my criticisms because gojo is so beloved to me and so many others. i’ve said before that i don’t mind if he died. does it hurt? of course, and i would still cry and be sad about it. but there is a beautiful way to do it. with respect and honor for his legacy—for what he has done for your manga, the characters in it, and audiences worldwide. but no…gege chose the path of horror and disrespect. at certain points i’d say to myself, well. this is a dark manga. but essentially gojo is the only character that receives this treatment. since the beginning—since suguru left him, he’s been wondering if he mattered because he was a person, or if he only mattered because he was powerful and useable. we certainly fucking answered that question. he is a weapon and nobody ever cared about him at all!!!

and we knew he was being used—he knew he was being used, but he is selfless. so he did it for his kids. for megumi and yuuji and yuuta—he wanted them to be safe. in these flashbacks it’s exceedingly clear that he knew he would die. again—that’s not my issue. gojo dying to sukuna makes plenty of sense and it would hurt to leave it there. but to give us an afterlife scene where he’s presented a choice—north and south—that concept lead nowhere, that’s truly fucked up. to leave all the subtle clues and hints for no reason but to keep people reading and theorizing his return is fucked up. to continue to use his imagery to promote your manga when you know he’s not even honored in your manga is fucked up. we don’t get a funeral or a grave for him. no one’s spoken about him in chapters despite him fighting for hours against sukuna and damaging him so much that yuuji could win, nothing. yuuta wearing him like a costume and no one is horrified about it. i thought his students WERE different. they weren’t jujutsu society yet. that’s why gojo was their teacher—shaping them into better human beings. how am i supposed to trust in their future when it seems they’re just as cold and heartless as everyone before them? no one has honored gojo in any way since the moment he died. and they’ve forgotten about him. he spent his entire life fighting and no one can even say thank you. gege intentionally used gojo to promote the end of his manga because he knows that gojo fans make up at least half of his fanbase so had we stopped reading when he died, he would have lost a lot of traction. he baited us intentionally, cruelly, and something that transcends storytelling. i’ve truly never seen a mangaka have this sort of vitriol for one of their characters and the people that love him.

we spent the entire last chapter talking about some random fucking mission when we have several unanswered questions and concerns. i thought gege said he wanted this ending to be shocking and something you didn’t see in shonen? tying everything up neatly where no one has any trauma or grief for what they’ve experienced, everyone comes back to life except the one character you hate specifically and choso, defying your own power structures and having everyone laughing into the sunset is exactly how shonen ends so what in the fuck is he talking about??

let me disclaim, this is not megumi hate at all. i love him very much and i am so happy he’s back with the group but like. he shouldn’t be able to even walk. he tanked unlimited void for over 6 minutes whenever that length caused irreversible damage to sukuna himself. not to mention the countless black flashes. so what the fuck? he doesn’t mention gojo at all?? the first time he laughs in this manga is after he reads a note written by his dead fucking caretaker about his dead fucking father? like i don’t believe. random open ended kenjaku/suguru mention just to piss me off, an absolutely no mention of gojos sacrifice or how they’ll miss him. i’m sick to my stomach. gege defiled his memory both in the story and outside of it. wow.

P.S. SUKUNA CARED MORE ABOUT GOJO THAN ANYONE ELSE (SUGURU IS NOT INCLUDED IN THIS I MEAN HIS STUDENTS AND SOCIETY)

[monstersholygrail]

Oh to be a ftm bunny boy hybrid in a chase dynamic with a fox hybrid. The twist being that the bunny does the chasing and the fox is so fucking confused and is thrown off by this.

Added points for the hormones bunnies / rabbits bring.

Being a big adorable Boy Bunny Hybrid was tough sometimes. Especially when the local Fox Hybrid of your village was going around being a menace to the other people in town.

The Fox was constantly terrorizing others. As soon as he’d set his eyes on you he’d start the chase and he wouldn’t let up until he got you proper scared. It was only your luck that you were his favorite target.

Always picking you out from the crowd. Coming up behind you and grabbing onto you when you were doing nothing but minding your own business. Chasing you back during your walks home. Rarely letting you get a moment of peace without thinking about him and worrying he might be around the corner. It didn’t matter how hot he was or how he looked at you like he constantly wanted to devour you.

You were honestly getting sick of it and thought the Fox surely needed to be taught a lesson. It wasn’t like you wanted to egg him on or anything. It wasn’t that natural for you to try and hunt either. But the next morning you got up super early and went to track the Fox.

Your big bunny ears twitch as you look out for him and follow him through the forest. You stay a safe distance away from him so that he can’t smell you yet your little fluff of a tail shakes with your nerves, your ears even flattening against your head.

Before you can chicken out, you push off your hind legs and charge at the Fox. Propelling forward so quickly that it takes a moment for the Fox to notice you. But when he does he whips around and tries dashing away. Shock and confusion coursing through him in time with the burst of adrenaline.

The Fox looks behind him incredulously, not believing what’s going on. Some hybrid is hunting him? That never happens. The fox struggles between trying to run away and trying to get a good look at the predator. But when he spots you, the boy bunny he’s chased after more than anyone, he nearly stops in his tracks. Yet the look on your face tells him not to.

He would’ve kept going till he surely outran you but with a snag of his foot against a branch he goes tumbling down to the ground. The Fox groans in pain and before he can even catch his bearings you’re pummeling into him, causing you two to tumble through the grass.

With a quick maneuver on your part you roll over till you’re straddling the Fox, a feral look in your eye as you pin his arms above his head. The Fox mirrors it, thoroughly pissed off that he was caught by a damn bunny. But he doesn’t give up, his body squirming and jerking beneath you.

You grunt in return, trying your hardest to keep him subdued. But you were all soft curves and little muscle so it was proving a bit difficult. You struggle against him, your hips shifting and pressing into him in order to pin him down.

All it ends up doing is grinding his growing erection into your fluttering cunt and sensitive bottom growth which has you crying out and tightening your hold on him. The two of you glare fiercely at each other as the Fox deceptively starts to clam down. Your hold slightly loosens.

“You don’t like being hunted very much, do you? So why do you do it to others? To me,” you ask firmly, finally demanding answers after all this time.

Something passes over the Fox’s features but it goes by too quick for you to pick up on it. Then the next thing you know you’re being flipped over, your back hitting the ground and the Fox’s body pressing into yours. His hard bulge teasing your slit in a way that has you buzzing. He growls in your face, his drool dripping onto your neck. Your bunny nose twitches, wanting to wipe it away but a part of you also wanting his scent on you.

“To others, for fun. To you? Well, because you’re mine, and you needed to understand that.”

Your eyes widen at the confession and your body heats up. Getting turned on by his blunt claim of you. He raises a brow as if daring you to challenge him. But you don’t want to.

“Yours…” you whisper, liking the idea far too much. Wanting him to chase you so he can take you afterwords. Knowing that was his true intent all along as your hips bucking up into him.

His gaze softens and he leans down, nuzzling into your neck. Swiftly removing all clothes in your way, leaving you both bare to each other in more ways than one. He growls and nips at your throat, making his mark on you.

“That’s right, pretty boy.”

His voice rumbles in your ear, sending a chill down your spine. Yet it only turns you on more, your cunt fluttering with need. He lines himself up to your entrance, teasing you and keeping you on edge.

“My precious bunny.”

With that he plunges inside you, his claws yanking you deeper on his cock as he starts thrusting into you like a man starved. Like he’s been waiting so long to finally have you and now that he is, he’s taking all he can get.

You try and give him everything you can, your hips struggling to meet his every brutal thrust. Moans and whimpers brokenly leaving you as lust and pleasure fog up your mind.

He pounds into you with shocking ferocity, his aim to make you feel better than you’ve ever imagined. To ruin you for everyone else so all you can do is crave his cock and the pleasure only he can provide.

His length hits those spots deep inside you just right and your body shakes by the sheer force of the pleasure building up inside you. Your quivering body making it hard to continue rocking into him.

But the Fox doesn’t let up, his hands sliding to cup for firm bottom, claws digging into the rounded flesh. The tips of his claws only just teasing your sphincter.

Sparks blast through your body and straight to your close as you explode all over his cock. A squeak of a scream leaving you as your vision flashes white. The Fox growls loudly at the way you clench around him and his hot semen splashes deep inside you. Filling you with his release till your belly distends.

Something comes over you and you can’t stop the words from slipping out as the Fox sags on top of you.

“Mine.”

The act of claiming a strange sensation. But it felt right. It felt needed. You’d be the only bunny your fox would ever chase again. The Fox chuckles and nods into your neck.

“Yours.”

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Delicious Promises

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.5k

Warnings: smut, fingering

Summary: You and Dean are always at each other’s throats, making it hard to hunt with each other. What you two need is a good way to release your frustrations, no matter who is around to hear it.

Square Filled: one bed for three (2021) for @spndeanbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Hunting with the Winchesters brings out two emotions: excitement and annoyance. Excitement because you love hunting with them, saving people, and killing monsters. You can do it by yourself but they’re so good at what they do, it makes sense to want to do it with them. Annoyance because you can’t stand Dean. He’s cocky, arrogant, bossy, and always thinks he’s right about everything. You can’t stand the man. Sam is usually the buffer between you and Dean and can often keep both of you calm but if you’re alone with the older Winchester, things won’t end well.

You’re also pissed off because he’s so hot. You’ve roomed next to him before; he knows exactly what he’s doing when he has a woman in his bed. Women fawn all over him whenever he walks into a room, and can you blame them? It pains you to admit but you often thought about being one of those women in his bed at times.

Not only does he piss you off, but you piss him off, too. You hunt just as well as he does if not a little better, and it drives him up a wall when you don’t listen to him. You go off on your own and do whatever it is that you want despite you always telling him you can handle it. It always seems to work out in the end for you which is what pisses him off.

Sam, on the other hand, is one of your best friends. You two get along great which is why you agreed to go on this hunt with them. He asked for your help knowing he and his brother wasn’t going to be enough. Dean’s been driving for nearly an entire day to get to Maine, so he decides to stop at some hotel instead of a motel. They have Men of Letters money so they can splurge on sleeping comfortably tonight.

There is a convention happening in town so there is only one room available by the time you get to them. Normally, it wouldn’t be a problem since you took turns sleeping in the bed whenever you were with the Winchesters. As long as there were two beds and a sofa bed, you’d be alright. However, when you get to the room, you are disappointed to see only one bed--a California King.

“Tell me there is a sofa bed,” you say. You walk over to the couch and lift the cushions only to be disappointed again. “Shit.”

“It’s fine. This is big enough for all three of us. Just sleep in the middle,” Sam says.

You barely look at Dean. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Don’t be a pussy,” Dean rolls his eyes.

“Excuse me?”

“Is sharing a bed with us that traumatic?”

“Yes, actually because you’ll be in there,” you sneer.

“Will you two quit it? We’re here to hunt, and we can’t do that if you’re at each other’s throats. Can’t you two just get along?”

“I know I can,” you say and cross your arms.

“I know I can,” Dean mocks you in a faux female voice.

You resist the urge to throw something at his fucking smug face.

“Fine, I’ll sleep in the bed with you two.”

“Fine.”

You grab your bathroom bag and lock yourself in the bathroom to do your nighttime routine. It takes twenty minutes to complete the entire routine, and you leave the bathroom once you feel refreshed and ready for bed. You grab your moisturizer and lift your right leg to rub the lotion onto your skin. Dean peeks at you from over the gun he’s cleaning. After doing your right leg, you do your left leg and Dean doesn’t take his eyes off you the entire time.

You put the lotion aside and crawl into bed between the two brothers. Dean finishes with his gun and puts it away to crawl in next to you. Sam is already snuggled under the covers with a book in his hand.

“Fuck,” Dean mutters.

“What?”

“You expect me to lay here and smell that girly shit?”

“If you don’t like it, sleep on the couch,” you smirk.

“Both of you, shut up and go to sleep,” Sam scolds you two like children.

Sam is the first to fall asleep since he can fall asleep anywhere, but you and Dean are a different story. You always have trouble falling asleep in beds that are not your own and this is no exception. It doesn’t help you’re in the middle of a Winchester sandwich. Sam is a heavy sleeper so he doesn’t feel you moving to get comfortable, but Dean does. He had to be a light sleeper to look after Sam so he can’t sleep unless you’re still.

“If you’re going to keep moving, go to the couch,” he hisses.

“I can’t get comfortable.”

Dean rolls onto his side, grabs your hips, and pulls you into him. You freeze the second you feel his hard cock on your ass. Dean’s hot breath falls over your ear and neck causing shivers to rave down your spine.

“Stop moving and go to sleep.” It’s kind of hard to go to sleep now when you can feel every inch of Dean’s cock pressed between your ass cheeks. You shift as you try to think about anything else, but him and you end up pressing your ass further into him. Dean’s teeth nip at your ear and he growls his next words. “Do not move.” Okay, now you’re moving just to piss him off. You can play him so easily. Dean’s hand slides over your hip to the front of your body where he presses his fingers to your clothed pussy. That causes you to still. “If you want to play this game, sweetheart, I’ll play this game. One rule. Don’t wake Sam.”

Dean’s hand slips underneath your silk pajama shorts, pleased to find you’re wearing skimpy cotton panties. He passes the cotton barrier and presses his fingers against your clit. You jerk against his body but he holds onto you tightly so you don’t move much. He runs two fingers down the length of your slit, gathering the wetness he feels.

“I haven’t even touched you and already, you’re so wet for me.”

He pushes one thick finger into you, and you bite down on your bottom lip to keep from crying out. Sam would kill you if he knew what was happening mere inches away from him. Dean pushes in a second finger and curls them to press against your g-spot.

“Fuck,” you gasp quietly.

“Do you feel what you do to me? You get me so fucking hard. It takes everything I have not to bend you over and fuck that attitude out of you,” he whispers against your ear.

It’s somehow hotter that he’s whispering to you instead of speaking normally. So intimately… so close.

“So do it,” you smirk.

Dean slams his fingers into you rapidly and rubs your clit in hard small circles. The pressure is becoming too much not to make noise, and you arch your back as much as possible. It’s a good thing Sam is a heavy sleeper otherwise he’d hear your heavy breathing and slick sounds from your pussy.

“Fuck, Dean,” you whimper.

“Are you gonna be a good girl and come for me? Hmm?”

You can’t respond to him even if you want to. The pressure builds deep in your core, and he can feel you tightening around his fingers. Fuck, he can only imagine what you’d feel like around his cock and tongue. Next time. His cock is rock hard and pressing against your ass, begging for release, but he’s not going to take care of him until he takes care of you.

“Shit, I’m gonna come,” you whisper.

“Go ahead. I got you.”

He circles your clit hard and the pressure inside of you explodes, and you feel your entire body start to float from ecstasy. Your pussy clenches and unclenches as you come, and he continues to thrust his fingers in and out to ride out your high. When he knows you have no more to give him right now, he pulls his fingers out of you slowly to tease you. You don’t have to look at him to know he is sucking you off his own flesh.

“Damn, sweetheart. Next time, I want to feel you come on my tongue.”

“Okay,” you whisper.

“That’s just another thing I’m better at than you.”

“What thing?”

“Making you come,” he smirks. Your jaw drops several inches at his remarks, and he lets you go to give you some space. He turns over in the bed so that his back is facing you instead of his chest. “Go to bed.”

How the hell can you think about sleeping now when all you can think about is Dean and the possibilities he and his cock can give you?

x

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[anzulvr]

Thank you for follow back! >.> meant a lot to me. Is it okay if I request a Karma x reader where the reader is very sweet & affectionate towards Karma & it makes him shy. No pressure. Just wanted to say hi & thank you! ^_^

♡ ୨୧ Karma with affectionate Reader ୨୧ ♡

ʚɞ fluff; no warnings || Karma Akabane ♥︎ note : HIII HII SORRY THIS IS LIKE CENTURIES LATE SHEA… guys pls tell me if you see typos I checked but I get sick of reading my own things again and again… 😭|| ʚɞ

— Karma is inexperienced when it comes to relationships therefore when you’re affectionate and sweet to him he doesn’t know how to act!!

His face canonically gets super red when he’s embarrassed though it’s not an often thing because he can usually shake things off with a joke! When it does happen it’s finally your chance to get back at him for all the times he’s purposely taken weird photos of you.

He’d be shy with PDA (when he’s not trying to embarrass you, since he’s also the type to mortify you by calling you the stupidest pet names in front of your friends and family.)

If you react strongly it's worse because he loves getting you mad and rilled up it's like his love language. Some people like giving gifts or giving words of affirmation to their s/o while he likes pissing you off.

If you randomly hold his hand or rest your hand on his shoulder he won’t know what to do. He plays with your hand instead of staying still as a way to distract himself from how giddy he’s feeling.

Half the time “playing with your hand” means him trying to jokingly get you to slap your own face with your hand, the other half of the time when he feels like being nice and cute he’s just lightly squeezing it.

Very “opposites attract” troupe.

Even when you were just friends you were very attentive which isn’t something he’s familiar with. For the first time ever there’s someone taking care of him? Asking about his day and doing anything to make him feel better when it’s a bad one? He’d find it hard to believe you’re doing so much for him without wanting anything in return.

When he starts getting more comfortable in the relationship he inches towards being sweeter and more open with you.

E-class finds it hard to believe when they first see it, cause it’s Karma out of all people?? Karma being affectionate??

Don’t get me started on Asano’s reaction to this, he from the bottom of his heart, thinks you’re being held hostage.

Most of Karmas “affection” is just making fun of people so when they see him being weirdly nice to you it’s creepy to them. Constant compliments and praise coming out of his mouth is something they didn’t think they’d live to see.

He can’t be serious for long periods of time and always finds a way to “ruin the moment”. For example you’ll hug him and Karma will hug back… for three seconds before he lifts you off the ground and spins you till too dizzy to walk. (He finds it funny to see you struggling.)

Ms.Vitch is tired of you both because you refuse to work with anyone else she sets you up with (since her class centers around assassination with seduction). Sure, the phrases she makes you all say are awkward no matter who you’re saying it to but you can’t bring yourself to work with your other classmates for that class! If you do work with someone else he’s so shady about it afterwards.

“Karma do you mind getting my bag for me?"

“Maybe ask Maehara since he’s so strong.”

“You know I only said that for the class!!"

Karasuma is also sick of you two getting side tracked, instead of sparring you two sword fight, instead of running a mile you somehow convince Karma to carry you on his back while he does all the running?! (he’s a show off.) Instead of doing pushups you sit on Karmas back as he does them. It gets to the point he makes you work on opposite sides of the field but you somehow end up getting together anyway within minutes. He’s starting to give up.

On the brighter side you’re together in all of Korosensei’s classes because he can’t bring himself to separate you two! He did once and you were so miserable he gave in. Even if Karma does give you the answers in exchange for a kiss (it’s really that easy.) Korosensei thought you might’ve died from heartbreak if he kept you apart longer.

It’s pretty hard to make him shy since he’s constantly being praised to the point his ego is up there. It happens in more quiet, private moments. Like if you’re at his house watching a movie and you’re moving closer together all of a sudden he’s looking at the roof and not the screen. He can’t let you see his face is beet red.

Another example is him seeing you in a pretty outfit and not being able to act right cause he’s flustered.

“Do I have something on my face?”

“No, you’re just, you’re- you you’re I like.”

“Come again?”

[nakahras]

᯽ one more hour • chuuya nakahara

synopsis • you finally find out who chuuya is after months of him lying to you. unfortunately, for chuuya, you’re not the only one that figures out the identity of your boyfriend and that makes you a target.

warnings • intentional lowercase, angst, fem!reader, mild/medium language, verbal arguments, depictions of violence/gore, mentions of guns/knives, depictions of panic/anxiety attacks, hospital setting, mentions of injury/blood, chuuya’s an idiot

wc • 6.2k

a/n • i’ve been in the biggest writing funk. ofc this loser ginger was the one to drag me out of it wiriwiieiwieiqi

“how long did you plan on lying to me for? were you ever going to tell me the truth or were you going to hope i just never figured it out and let me live in complete ignorance?” you pace around the ginormous penthouse you find yourself in for the first time since your relationship with chuuya had started.

that was almost 7 months ago now. you can’t believe the amount of times you’ve almost said ‘i love you’ to the man standing a few feet away from you in just the last month alone. it’s comical, actually. chuuya isn’t even that person to you anymore, you don’t no longer even know who he is. you knew him as this above average guy that was an executive for some sort of multinational conglomerate. the adoptive son of the ceo. some form of a nepo-kid. that’s how you rationalized him being so successful at such a young age. 

you didn’t even know he had an ability.

you were delusional to think that this relationship was going so well because you had found the perfect guy. the perfect guy doesn’t lie to you about being a mafioso executive.

you stop pacing. you’re the most idiotic person on this planet. you can’t believe this is your reality.

“god, i cannot believe you hid something like this from me, chuuya. i cannot believe i fell for it.”

you have to give chuuya some credit. while you’ve been pacing and practically yelling at him he has annoyingly kept his composure with a straight face. unfortunately for him, that pissed you off even more. you turn to him finally and stare at the man in silence. his composure doesn’t budge. he gazes back but it’s as if he’s looking right through you. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him this emotionless before.

you’re desperate now, trying to rationalize your relationship even after finding out he isn’t who you thought he was. because, for better or for worse, even though you haven’t outwardly said the words to him you had, in fact, fallen in love with chuuya nakahara. 

you feel your stomach churn and waterline burn, you needed him to say something, anything. “are you just going to stand there like a fucking statue all night? or are you going to explain to me what the hell is going on?”

“how did you find out?” his voice is tight but unfeeling, expressionless and cold.

how frustrating of him. instead of answering your questions he asks one of his own. you shouldn’t give him the satisfaction he clearly wasn’t going to give you. you shouldn’t. but you have a bad habit of reacting before thinking about it fully.

“you attacked the armed detective agency at the hospital i work at? how do you think i found out, chuuya? you know how many times you’ve picked me up from there? just because i don’t work in that wing doesn’t mean my coworkers don’t know who you are. they sent me videos of what happened. i had to pretend that wasn’t you. i almost convinced myself of it.” your breathing is becoming erratic and uneven, only shallow and short breaths escaping you.

chuuya looks to the side as if he’s thinking something over then he looks back to you, gaze unchanged. “so other people know?”

“yeah, i’m sure not everyone believed me that it wasn’t you.” you let out a frustrated sigh, “why does that even matter? you should be focusing on the fact that i know.”

“it matters…” the ginger doesn’t give you any further explanation as he pulls out his phone and starts typing. 

you want to pull your hair out. he’s ignoring you almost — actually, you think him ignoring you would be less frustrating. he’s completely dismissing your concerns, questions and feelings on the matter. and now he’s texting someone?

that’s it. you were done with this conversation and you were done with him. maybe for good. you walk away to your belongings. chuuya clearly notices your movement and watches intently as you put your coat back on. 

panic finally settles deep within his chest and his voice cracks with desperation as he asks, “where are you going?”

you notice the change and look back at him from the elevator doors. his face is still expressionless, however, your eyes wander down to his gloved hands and take note of the way he’s gripping his phone just a bit too tightly. you shouldn’t, but you give him one last chance to explain himself, he just needs to give you anything to make you stay. it doesn’t need to be big, it could be the most vague explanation. just something enough that you can grasp onto.

“i’m leaving, unless you plan on answering any of my questions?” you look at him with wide and expectant eyes — they’re hopeful even.

chuuya just stands there, again. his bicolored eyes are filled with regret but he keeps his mouth shut. you let yourself sit in the silence that’s been created for a few moments. letting yourself get worked up. he was really willing to let you go, rather than just tell you what’s going on. 

you let out a shuddered and wet breath, tears welling up in your eyes and lips trembling. “i didn’t think so…”

with that you leave his apartment with a tight chest and damp cheeks.

that was 4 days ago and it has been radio silence on your end. chuuya tried calling you later that night but you didn’t answer. since then, there has been no further attempts on his end either. you weren’t sure if he was giving you space or still didn’t know how to answer your questions, but you think you’d prefer him blowing up your phone with no answers as opposed to nothing at all. you’ve been crying over a quart of ice cream all afternoon. you felt pathetic, sitting on the couch in pajama shorts and a hoodie of chuuya’s that you’re pretty sure was left behind on purpose. 

you lean over to set the now empty ice cream container down on the table of your kotatsu. a whine is heard from your lap and you look down to see your previously sleeping cat glaring up at you with an accusatory look in her eye. your movement had clearly disturbed her umpteenth nap of the day. you look at your little companion with an apologetic smile and pet her as an sorry for moving around so much. the torti is quick to be appeased as she starts purring loudly.

mochi, your cat, was the only thing that got you through this entire debacle. without her, you think you may have let yourself wither away into an empty shell. 

mochi’s ears perk up and suddenly she’s on high alert. the cat leaps off of you and investigates something in the kitchen. you hear her hiss and then a sort of bang. your brows furrow and you let out a sigh, thinking about how she probably just made a big mess in the kitchen as she scurries back in the room to hide underneath the kotatsu, bushy tailed and, oddly enough, growling. 

you shimmy yourself out from under the warmth of the kotatsu yourself and get up to investigate the mess you probably had to pick up. as you near the kitchen you feel a draft — funny, you distinctly remember closing the window in the kitchen. 

᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•

chuuya isn’t even pretending to listen to what’s happening in this meeting. he could feel the concerned gaze he’s getting from kouyou but his nerves are far too shot for him to even pretend to care. all he cares about is you. how you desperately wanted him to open up and be truthful, how betrayed you looked leaving his apartment with tears running down your face, how you wouldn’t answer his phone call that night and how you still hadn’t contacted him to make another attempt at getting him to explain.

chuuya would answer the phone in the middle of this meeting if you called at this very second. he had made up his mind when he finally came to his senses later that night. he always seemed to be one step behind when it came to relationships. being one step behind may be enough to ruin yet another relationship that he cherishes deeply.

the executive can’t comprehend what you’ve done to him. he’s felt on edge since the moment you left the penthouse. his fingers twitch in irritation, his skin crawls, his breath feels constricted. it’s like he’s coming down from a long lasting high. he was having withdrawals. he hasn’t felt this tense and unfocused since he tried to quit smoking a few years back when gin got on his ass about finishing a whole pack in one day.

actually, a cigarette sounded damn good right about now. mori would have a fit though, of course he’s always been a doctor to the core. so, the ginger falls back on tapping his foot incessantly and checking his phone obsessively. 

this meeting feels like it’s dragging, time moving in slow motion almost. it’s only been 30 minutes but to chuuya it feels like 30 hours. it’s agonizing to sit here when what he needs is a distraction. a mission where he can let out his frustration on some opposing force. he’s never been one to complain about meetings but it’s never too late to start.

the executive is ready to leave, literally 30 seconds away from standing up and walking out, but then something happens. one of kouyou’s subordinates urgently walks in and makes a beeline for her. an emergency, clearly, because everyone knows not to disturb an exec meeting otherwise.

kouyou’s eyes widen and flit to chuuya. this worried glance is different from her previous ones. it makes the ginger’s blood run cold and hairs stand on end. if he thought he was on edge before — that was nothing compared to this. 

kouyou wastes no time in reporting the issue as she shoos her subordinate away. “there was activity from one of our many opposing organizations. my people are working on pinpointing which one but… they broke into and vandalized several apartment buildings in the naka ward…” 

kouyou looks at chuuya again. her brows are furrowed in concern, it makes his stomach churn. why is she looking at him like that? what did she even say? chuuya wasn’t focused. he was on the verge of getting up to leave just two minutes ago. 

he was going to leave.

he needed a better distraction from his stewing thoughts of you. the longer he sat here the more time he spent thinking about how he should really just show up at your apartment door. surely, you wouldn’t turn him away if he was willing to finally explain things, right?

“they were all within a 2 kilometer radius of the yokohama city minato red cross hospital-“

mori interjects, “you mean the one you all took the liberty of storming while i was ill due to that cannibalism ability?” 

if chuuya wasn’t paying attention before, he is now. he thinks a knife to the eye would be better than this. physically: the executive is composed and stoned faced — but internally? chuuya is sinking in his seat wishing he would simply disappear. they’re all used to mori’s snide comments, his tongue always being quick and made of silver. sometimes, like today, his comments hit a little harder. 

so, even though they all try to stay composed, chuuya doesn’t miss the way kouyou flinches and once again her eyes flit over to him. 

“yes, mori-san, the same hospital…” the woman sounds almost pained as she talks, her internal panic slowly seeping out through the cracks. “most civilians were unharmed… but there were a couple women who were targeted and are now in critical condition at the same hospital. one of them was pronounced dead by the time she got to the hospital.”

mori hums, eyes cutting over to chuuya. “interesting. chuuya, don’t you have a little friend that lives in the same area?”

there it was. the reason kouyou was so concerned and fidgety. chuuya’s heart sinks and stomach drops to his feet. everything unfocuses, his vision going blurry and swirling. the ginger visibly turns pale and his blood runs cold. his whole body twitches, the need to get up and leave far too strong.

chuuya feels physically ill. how had he not thought of you the second kouyou said what ward it was? he was so busy thinking about himself and wallowing in self pity that he didn’t even think to second guess the information he was being fed. kouyou’s glances tell him it was bad too, or worse, she had no information on your status. 

this was chuuya’s fault. he has this sinking feeling that you were the target. he should’ve known you weren’t safe when you told him people at your work had connected who he was. he should have been more insistent on talking things out. he should have had you come over to his and stay over until he knew you were safe. hell, he should have at the very least set up a detail in your neighborhood.

this was all his fault. 

chuuya abruptly stands up, hands slamming on the table. “i should check on the situation. may i be dismissed, boss?”

“i don’t see why you shouldn’t. report back when you’ve got a handle on…the matter.” mori raises his eyebrows, not bothering to hide his obvious amusement at the executive’s reaction.

chuuya doesn’t notice, he doesn’t even give any of them a second glance as he practically flies out of the room to find the nearest exit to this god forsaken building. he finds an open window and easily hurls himself out of it, using his ability to hurdle himself through the sky. chuuya didn’t even think twice about, maybe, taking a vehicle. his mind was far too muddled to even register what he was doing.

this was all his fault.

he wasn’t looking for practicality right now anyway, he was looking at what would get him there the fastest.

“there” being your apartment. he didn’t want to assume you were attacked. maybe it’s just wishful thinking on his part. chuuya makes it to the average looking building in record time — which he’d boast about in any other situation, but now was not the time.

the gravity manipulator is about to circle your apartment to get to the front but notices something odd. the window at the side of your kitchen was wide open. you never did that, you only left it cracked open when you were cooking. chuuya enters your apartment the same way he left the port mafia building: through a window. 

what he sees next confirms his deepest fears. he’s had actual nightmares about this — or at least he thinks he has, having never actually been able to dream. but he’s woken up in cold sweats, throat raw from screaming, and a pit in his stomach with you on his mind. this was more like a waking nightmare, he imagines this is what the ones he can’t recall are filled with. 

there’s blood on the floor and also splattered across the walls and kitchen utilities. broken kitchenware is scattered across the wooden slats, your oven and fridge are out of place too. an obvious sign of a struggle. you clearly fought back. of course you fought back. chuuya had tried to teach you some self defense but with further observation he had learned that you grew up taking mixed martial arts classes. something about letting out your bad temper in a healthy way.

all the fighting skills in the world couldn’t save you from a bullet though. there was one lodged in your fridge and wall. as chuuya nears the other side of your kitchen he notices the front door is also wide open, two holes in it indicating more shots were set off. 

then chuuya sees it. his stomach churns violently, so much so that he almost doubles over and retches at the sight. a trail of blood that ends at the front of your apartment and then…

a bloody handprint.

your bloody handprint.

chuuya would recognize it anywhere. he’s memorized every detail of your hands from the size down to the swirls in your fingerprints. you had to have dragged yourself out of your home for help. 

chuuya is glued in place. he feels like his whole world is crumbling around him. the edges of his vision going white as the color falls from his grasp. his ears are ringing, the white noise becoming louder as his mind runs wild. 

you weren’t here.

there was so much blood.

the smell of iron stuck to his nostrils.

where were you?

did someone take you to the hospital?

the hospital.

one of the women that was brought there was pronounced dead. even if that wasn’t you… all of the other women were in critical condition. he couldn’t imagine you being okay after seeing the scene laid out before him. 

chuuya was going to be sick. a wave of nausea crashes over him. he feels the bile clawing up his throat. he scrambles over to your kitchen sink, almost slipping on your blood. he doesn’t let anything out at first, just gags and dry heaves. then his eyes sting and what little contents he had sitting in his stomach are released. this time he really does vomit. 

the executive's breathing is shallow and labored. he looks down to where his hands are gripping the sink and realizes they’re now covered in your blood. he holds them up and his breathing quickens. his stomach churns and he shoves his gloves off. stumbling back as he stares at his trembling hands. it was too much. this was different from all of the gore and violence that comes with being in the port mafia. 

it was you, you were in danger and he wasn’t there. he couldn’t help you. he should have been there to help you. he should have kept you safe.

the only thing that brought chuuya back to reality was a high pitched mewl that came from further inside your apartment. chuuya would recognize that little noise anywhere. mochi. he whips around to find the small feline peeking out from under your kotatsu. the orange glow indicating that it was still on. chuuya lets out a sort of wet and shaky breath. 

the ginger gently approaches the clearly spooked creature. he’s never been particularly fond of cats but for some reason yours took a liking to him and he couldn’t help but fall head over heels for the torti. much like he couldn’t help the way he fell for her mother. chuuya reaches out a finger and mochi hesitantly sniffs it. her eyes light up at the gravity manipulator’s familiar scent and nudges his finger with her nose. 

after getting the clear go ahead from the cat, chuuya leans in and picks her up. the torti nuzzles into him and she was still shaking — or maybe that was chuuya. he reaches down and turns the flammable item off before straightening himself and greet the small feline.

“hey, sweet girl, you scared for your mama too?” chuuya’s voice cracks and he knows he needs to get to the hospital but he feels a little guilty just leaving mochi here in this disaster of an apartment.

chuuya sighs and let’s the torti down. he pulls out his phone and sends out a quick message to kouyou, asking her to send a cleaning crew and to pick up the small creature and take her back to the gravity manipulator’s place. her response is sent mere moments after his own. he doesn’t bother responding. 

the ginger strides over to the front door. he makes sure to close it behind him so mochi doesn’t get out then makes a beeline for the hospital.

᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•

”i’m sorry, sir, i pulled up her chart but you aren’t on her contacts list. unfortunately i’m unable to give you any further information.” the patient services rep behind the counter holds firm on her statement by giving the man a tight lipped smile.

chuuya’s bicolored eyes narrow in frustration. he knows, he knows, that the lady is just doing her job but she’s doing it so infuriatingly well. he’s desperate to know your status and his sanity is slowly losing its grip on him, he’s slipping away with each obstacle. as if answering a silent plea, a tap on his shoulder catches his attention.

the executive swivels around and is met with the sweet old lady that lives next door to you. she was always checking in with you. making sure you had enough to eat and were getting enough rest. you once compared her to your own mother, who is no longer with you but even when she was it was nothing like what the older woman does for you. when you introduced the woman to your boyfriend she was awfully judgemental of him at first, she was making sure he was good enough for you. he didn’t think so but apparently your neighbor thought otherwise, seeing something in him he didn’t see himself.

her usual smile is replaced with a furrowed brow and downturned lips. she was frowning at chuuya, something akin to scolding. the ginger felt oddly accosted by the woman standing before him. she’s never looked at him with so much contempt before.

she folds her arms across her chest and she lets out a huff, “what are you doing here, boy?”

chuuya flinches at her tone like she had just physically slapped him in the face. the ability user quickly recovers though, realizing if she was here that would mean…

you had to be here and you had to be alive, if not your neighbor wouldn’t be standing here in front of him scolding him. no, instead her face would be filled with grief. this was a good thing. 

you were still alive.

“where is she? i need to see her.” chuuya lets out a breath he’s been subconsciously holding in. 

the old lady bristles at his blatant disregard for her own question. “and why should i tell you? y’know, she’s been miserable the last few days because of you? she wouldn’t tell me you were the reason but i could just tell. what did you do to her? is this all your fault?”

chuuya actually takes a step back at her words. he felt like the woman had just punched him in the gut. the older lady packs quite the punch for how small she is, not even standing at 5 feet tall. she’s right, of course, this was all chuuya’s fault. 

it was all his fault.

”i didn’t mean to… she was supposed to be safe. i didn’t tell her anything to keep her safe.” he was rambling now, desperation seeping into his voice. “i just need to see her. please, please, ma’am, you have to tell me.”

the old lady falters, her scowl dropping and a pang of pity spreads across her chest. it doesn’t last long though. the implication of chuuya’s response, meaning he did have something to do with the fact you were in emergency surgery and would be in there for a few more hours.

you’d been rushed to the hospital. thanks to your neighbors, you assailants were scared off by the ambulance and police they called. after the first gunshot went off they were quick to make the call. 

you were brought in with a plethora of injuries. blunt force trauma to the head, 3 gunshot wounds (2 of which were still lodged inside of you), and several lacerations littering your entire body. all of which resulted in severe blood loss and unfortunately for you, since you weren’t the only one to sustain these kinds of injuries, the hospital was on a low supply of blood by the time you came in. 

the old woman is winding up to scold chuuya some more but she’s interrupted by a nurse walking up to her. the woman in scrubs looks exhausted, she must have been in the operating room with you. the nurse also looked worried, she must be a close coworker. 

“nakamura-sama? the surgeon wanted to give you an update…” the nurse’s eyes trail over to chuuya and her demeanor goes from concern to nervous, she nods at chuuya quickly, “please excuse us… nakahara-san…”

oh. she knew who he was. had she been one of your coworkers that he knew? chuuya’s guilt grows as he thinks he should remember who this woman is. this was all so frustrating. no one would tell him anything even if they knew who he was. the executive desperately wants to argue, to stand his ground and find out what was going on.

something occurs to him in that very moment. is this how you felt that day? when chuuya wouldn’t budge, wouldn’t tell you anything. shutting himself off. this was some sick and twisted karma. the universe was laughing in the ginger’s face and he only has himself to blame for it. 

a man’s voice speaks up, “the boy can stay. now why don’t you tell my wife and i how our dear granddaughter is doing?”

the nurse hesitates, looking to the older woman for guidance. mrs. nakamura squints at her husband for an uncomfortably long moment. however, the older man doesn’t seem bothered at all, he must be used to this type of scrutinizing glare from his wife. if chuuya wasn’t so distracted by your status he would be able to acknowledge that he wants that. he wants a future with you and he may be willing to give anything up for that.

mrs. nakamura clicks her tongue. “fine. the boy can stay.”

the nurse eyes chuuya for another moment before explaining your situation. she explains the injuries you sustained. that you’re still in surgery and probably would be for at least a couple more hours. you were doing surprisingly well, a fighter. of course you are. a warmth pools in the ginger’s chest. it was pride. 

“we have hit a small road block. due to the multiple victims being brought in… the blood supply is in the reserves. we have contacted other hospitals in the area and they’ve agreed to deliver us their extra supply. but it’s a process and it may take hours to receive any of it. do any of you know if you’re a match or a universal donor?” the nurse looks at the 3 of them hopefully, her gaze drifting to chuuya more than the other two.

chuuya freezes. he knows that he has type b blood, that’s not the problem. the problem is that he has no idea what your blood type is. he should know that, right? he’s sure you know his, sure you’re in the medical field but it’s common to know your partner's blood type. he should know this. 

he should know this. 

hanged, drawn and quartered. maybe a firing squad or even the guillotine. chuuya lists the ways he thinks he should be executed in his head. he’s had his head so far up his ass with trying to keep you in the dark about who he is that he hasn't even learned the most basic things about you. does he even know your favorite color? your favorite meal? your favorite song? 

this was the most criminal act he’s ever committed and that’s saying something considering the horrific things he’s done for the port mafia. this was bad. unforgivable even. this was all his fault and he couldn’t even tell the damn nurse if he was a match for you or not. 

what the fuck.

what the fuck?

what the fuck was wrong with him?

what does he even say? how does he tell the nurse and the old couple standing next to him that he has no idea if he’s a match for you? he supposes he can play it off. plainly state what his blood type is and leave it to the nurse to figure it out. maybe that could work. it would have to, he doesn’t have another choice. 

but before chuuya can even open his mouth the older man speaks up first. “i'm a universal donor, young lady. you can take some of my blood, i can’t possibly be using it all, i’m sure i have some to spare.”

the older man tries to lighten the situation as he chuckles at his own joke. his wife isn’t amused and even whacks him on his bicep with the back of her hand while clicking her tongue again. the nurse let’s out an uncomfortable laugh and looks to chuuya one last time. of course she would want to take a donation from a healthy young man. 

chuuya shakes his head and hopes to god he’s right when he says, “no, i’m- i’m not a match.”

”i see. mr. and mrs. nakamura, follow me please.”

᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•᯽•

your head feels light, like a morning fog had somehow managed to roll in and settle in your mind. everything was so numb and heavy, your entire body felt like lead. you wanted to keep sleeping. you wanted this annoying light behind your eyelids to go away. who the hell left the lights on?

did chuuya forget to turn them off again? why were they so bright? these weren’t your lights at home, they couldn’t be.

where were you? 

why did you feel like you got hit by a bus?

most importantly, where was chuuya?

…chuuya…

oh. 

you remember now. chuuya was an ass. he told you a sugar coated version of his truth. twisted who he was to fit your ideals even though you had never asked that of him. then he ignored you, refused to tell your anything and left you to the solitary confines of your apartment. and then…

your eyes fly open and you gasp for air. you were assaulted in your own home. someone had broken in and attacked you. they had guns and knives. you were shot. 

where were you?

did they take you? no, they were trying to kill you. you’re sure of that. if it hadn’t been for the sirens that scared them away, you’re sure they would have finished you off.

mochi. your poor mochi. she must have been terrified. oh god, they wouldn’t have…she hid right? she was safely under the kotatsu. she had to be unharmed physically. she had to be. you couldn’t be here right now, wherever you were. you had to get home and make sure she was okay.

distantly you hear this annoyingly incessant beeping and… someone's voice? what is it saying? are they speaking to you? your name. they’re calling for you but- 

who is it?

no. it wasn’t anything intelligible, it was screaming. it was your screaming. you were screaming. why were you screaming? 

a wave of fatigue crashes down on you, drowning you in darkness as you sink back into the depths of slumber.

the next time you wake up, you’re less confused. whatever anesthesia you were previously under obviously had worn off by now. the fog was certainly lifted and you were thinking much clearly now.

you haven’t opened your eyes yet but just by hearing the beeps coming from the monitors next to your bedside, you could piece together you are in the hospital and therefore you are safe. more importantly you’re alive. you try to bring your hand up to rub at your eyes but there’s a weight holding it down.

your brows furrow at the restriction. you stir only slightly, any movement you made right now was agonizing. you let out a grunt as a shooting pain courses through the entirety of your body. this wasn’t good, something like this was going to take a lot of time and physical therapy to recover from. 

how frustrating-

“are you awake?” his voice is gruff, filled with exhaustion but it was clear who was speaking to you.

you could pick out his voice from millions others. even worse, his voice never fails to soothe your soul. instantly your body relaxes from whatever tension it’s been managing to hold onto. traitor. you’re supposed to be upset with him. you should yell at him, kick him out. 

but… he stayed. he was here, he found you and stayed. how unfair. you’re tired, too tired to deny yourself the comfort he brings you. because despite everything, it’s still him. 

you think it will always be him.

so instead of crying or yelling or getting upset you simply give in. “yeah. i’m awake.”

you open your eyes, finally, to look at him. he looks like shit, it would be funny under any other circumstance. his hair is a mess, clearly he had been tug at it, nervously running his fingers through it. his usual under eye bag had bags. the dark circles a stark contrast against his porcelain complexion. 

if it weren’t for the fact that you were the one in the hospital bead, you’d think you two were here for him. after you examine him you look at his expression. it’s grim, he looks truly pathetic. you can only describe it as being akin to a wounded puppy. 

you let out a sigh but before you can even get another word out, he’s speaking. “i should have told you. i wasn’t thinking about you- i know i wasn’t but i convinced myself i was. i convinced myself that i was keeping you safe by not telling you but- i was a damn fool for that. this is all my-“

”chuuya, shut up.” this was so painful, you didn’t want to hear any of this. 

you are tired. you just want him to be there for you. you want him to comfort you. you just want your boyfriend. at this point you couldn’t care less about the bullshit he kept from you. at the end of the day it was his character you’ve fallen in love with and that was more than enough for you.

chuuya looks at you stunned. his words catch in his throat and he thinks he might actually cry. it’s been a while since he’s had the urge to cry like this. was this it? he almost lost you to death. now he was going to lose you in another way and he only had himself to blame. 

the ginger can’t even blame you for your decision. 

after all, this was all his fault.

“i don’t give a shit about who you are. tell me. don’t tell me. whatever. you found me and you’re here now. i just need you to be here. i-“ you choke on your words, you hadn’t realized but you’d started crying and it hurt. “i love you. i need you to not blame yourself for this because you need to be here for me and show me you can do this. please show me you can do this, i wont ask for anything-“

you can’t finish your thought. your lungs are constricted as you're held in his vice grip. you missed him. god, you missed him so much. his embrace is home. he’s your home and that’s terrifying. despite what you said you still have so much to learn about him. chuuya scares you but only because you feel so incredibly safe with him. 

you’ve never had that before and something tells you he’s never had that either. 

“i’m here. hell and back, i will always be here for you.” it wasn’t a direct admission but you don’t question it. this is the closest you’ll come to a declaration of love from chuuya for now and you’re okay with that. truthfully, you didn’t expect him to say anything.

you try your best to return the hold chuuya has on you. you get an arm around him loosely and rest your forehead on his shoulder. you’re still crying, like a baby. it would be embarrassing if it was anyone else. his hand is holding your head gingerly. it’s comforting and you manage to calm yourself down. you pull back, still sniffling but eyes no longer producing tears. 

your eyebrows furrow, something pressing returning to the forefront of your mind. “did you stop by my apartment? has anyone checked on mochi? is she okay?”

chuuya finally smiles for the first time in what feels like days — it might have actually been days since he last did. he pulls out his phone and produces a picture of the torti that kouyou had sent him. he hands the phone to you and you smile fondly as you let out a small puff of air, relief spreading throughout your chest.

“i asked kouyou to bring her to my apartment for the time being. i think she’s taken a liking to it.” 

you look at the picture then back up at chuuya, entirely unamused. “have you seen your apartment. i could fit like five of mine in it? of course she likes it there.”

something warm spreads across chuuya’s entire being. this scene is oddly familiar. reminiscent of the older couple from earlier. this was pure happiness, this is what it felt like. 

chuuya was going to make sure to cherish it deeply and keep it safe at all costs.

[the-soliloquies-of-sadists]

#399

“Oh man, Fuck!...  Oh sorry you had to hear that call.  Didn’t mean to interrupt you enjoying your brew.  It’s just that my girlfriend makes me so fucking pissed off….  Get this, she knows I work 14 days straight busting my ass on that drilling rig.  I am about to head home for four days of rest.  That’s a 7-hour drive, each way.  So she tells me that her sister and mother are in town staying with us.  My days of relaxing are shot to shit.  And worse yet there’s no way I’m getting her pussy.  I probably won’t even get head.  Ain’t that shit?...

“Oh sorry.  I forget that I’m not with a dozen or so other roughnecks out in the field.  All they talk about is pussy.  Most of them don’t have a girlfriend, let alone a wife.  Hearing them go on and on about fucking and getting a blow job, I forget that other people might talk about something else.

“My god, I just wanted to get home and kick back with a beer and get some head.  You know the kind of blowjob that goes on for an hour and it relaxes your entire body.  That doesn’t even include blowing your wad.  You know what I’m talking about?

“Oh there I go again.  Sorry if I’m telling too much....  I do that when I start drinking.   Do you care if I talk about getting blown?...  Good.  Thought so.  What man doesn’t want head at the end of weeks of working damned hard? 

“…Here’s to blowjobs!  Cheers! 

“Hey Frank! Get my friend here another beer….  Nah!  Put your money away.  I got this. 

“So your car broke down?...  We are one of two taverns for twenty miles.  The other is by the interstate one mile away.  At this time of day it’s quite deserted.  We typically only get locals in here.  That is, unless you are having work done at Mike Larson’s garage.  There’s not that much out here, just the garage, Frank’s tavern, the lodge, and the oilfield’s main office over there across the creek.  Was I right?  Is it your car?

“…That was not a happy nod.  So, you’re here for tonight… Oh wait, the garage is closed for the weekend.  You are here until Monday?  …Again, that nod tells me everything.  Well to make matters worse, there are no available women for at least 50 or 60 miles.  This is what this hellhole has to offer. 

“I don’t know about you but it looks like it’s going to be an evening of pounding the pud.  And when I get done, I’ll use my other hand to make it feel like I’m getting a handjob from someone else.

“Goddamn my girlfriend fucked this all up.  I only had this weekend off, before I have to report back here to start filling in for a bud on Wednesday.  She thought that I would want to spend time with her fucking family.  Sometimes I wonder why I’m still with her.

“You have a wife or girlfriend?... 

“…Huh!  Well, sometimes I wish I was like you, single.  But sometimes I really need to get my balls drained.  She gives great head though.  She’s the only girlfriend I had who can take my head in her throat.  I have a big schlong, and every woman I dated complained about its size.  It takes her a long time to throat me.  Most of the time I get frustrated, and I wind up grabbing her head and fucking her mouth.  Eventually it ends in her throat.  She has never taken me down to the root.

“But I really have to be buzzed to get into skull fucking the bitch.  The part she really hates is me dick slapping her.  As I said, I have a gigantic dick.  Smacking her upside her head with my cock usually throws her off balance.  So does a face slap with my hand. 

“When I get in the zone, I am all kinds of aggressive.  I am only after one thing, to bust my nut.  If that means roughing up the bitch, then she’s going to get roughed up.  If I’m drunk enough, I’ll not only fuck her cunt, but she’ll take me in her ass.

“Right now, if she were here, I would be fucking her in every position in every hole.  I wouldn’t care if she was enjoying it.  I’m so fucking horny.  I would use any woman right now.  I can’t have a weekend of jerking off.  Hell, if there was a faggot, I would use him the same way. 

“And it’s a good thing that I have a faggot sitting not ten feet away from me, paying attention to every word I say, licking his lips every time I mention blowjobs, and responding with awkward silence when I asked if he had a bitch back home.  No straight man acts this way.

“I would ask you if you are a cock sucking faggot, but we both know the answer.  Don’t we?  So this is what is going to happen.  I’m going to walk over there, to the men’s toilet.  You want my fat hog in your faggot throat, you follow me in.  Don’t say a word.  Get on your faggot knees and open your faggot mouth. 

“I’ll give you until I drain my piss.  If you don’t come in at that time, then you better be out of here and hide in your room at the lodge.

“I really got to piss, so you don’t have much time….

“…Well fuck.  I would have thought you would have taken some time to think about it.  But OK.

“I really have to piss.  While I do that get in the stall and on your knees.  Be ready for me.  I swear, the beers just pour right through me.  Oh, this feels good—

“What the fuck?  I’m not done pissing….  Oh?  So, you are one of those kinds of faggots.  Nasty piss drinking faggot!  Oh fuck, your mouth feels good.  You are definitely getting a reaction out of my hog.  That’s it for my piss for now.

“Faggot, see how big it is?  You think you can take it?

“Jesus fuck!  Right to the root with no problem!  Holy shit.  You faggots know what you are doing.  Oh man.  This is… fuck!  Oh my god! 

“Bob up and down.  Go head-to-root-to-head-to-root.  Fuck!  This is the blowjob I have been looking for all my life.  Lucky me I found me a faggot with car problems.

“Pull off.  I said, ‘Pull off!’  Look up at me.  Hold still…. 

“…What?  Nothing?  I just gave you one of the hardest bitch slaps I have ever given and you just take it….  Wait, what did you just say?  Did you just thank me… for bitch slapping you?

“Get up.  Get your faggot-ty ass up.  Let’s go.  Move!

“We are going to my room at the lodge.  You are going to spend your night with me. 

“Pay Frank your tab and leave a good tip.  Meet me outside…  A fifty?  You know what a good tip is, that or you didn’t care to wait for him to give you change.

“OK faggot.  I have never used a fag before.  But damn, that one minute in the toilet told me I have been missing out. 

“Over here.  I’m the last room.  The lodge is free for us roughnecks.  The company pays for our housing.  My room is at the end.  It’s a glorified motel room.  I have tons of beer.  You won’t get any, at least not without it going through me first.  Never did that before, but fuck I liked it.

“I plan on being here for four days.  You are going to spend your time with me and my cock down your throat.  You probably take it up your ass.  I will definitely try that out.

“Now listen up.  I have no interest in you or your dick.  I ain’t sucking you or getting fucked by you.  You try anything like that, and I will beat the shit out of you.  Understand me?...  Understand me faggot?

“And keep up the ‘Yes Sir!’  I like the sound of that.  Here we are.  Faggot this is all new for me.  But I will tell you this, I am liking what has been done so far.  I’m so ready to do this.  My cock has not lost it’s hard on.  I may never go back.  Faggot get inside and strip!”

[danikamariewrites]

Could you do a xaden x reader where the reader is Aetos's younger sister and xaden and her have secretly been dating shortly after she got to basgiath. And tairn chooses reader and then that's on dain finds out and xaden will do anything to protect her

Rule Breaker

Xaden x reader

Warnings: none

You’d never been one for following the rules. You always found that being uptight and strict like your father and brother was so boring. It was no way to live life.

When you got to Basgiath you were on a mission to give your brother the biggest headache ever. But you somehow got away with each rule you break. You have your Wing Leader to thank for that.

Ever since Conscription you’ve been shamelessly flirting with Xaden. What made it fun at first was that he was supposed to be off limits. As a Marked One your father looked down on him and your brother didn’t trust him.

At Threshing you bonded Tairn who you later found out is mated to Xaden’s dragon. The two of you started hanging out more since you had questions about what that bond meant for your dragons. Harmless flirting turned into real flirting and before the two of you knew it you had real feelings for each other.

You both decided to keep the relationship a secret. It’s bad enough people were after you for being an Aetos, Gods forbid they found out you’re with Xaden Riorson. Your head would be on a fucking spike. Xaden would never let that happen to you. Something you discovered during your relationship is that when Xaden loves he loves with his whole heart.

He’s very protective and loving of you. That was a new thing for you. Your father only ever paid attention to Dain since he’s a boy. It’s nice to be love and get positive attention.

You smiled to yourself, pulling the hood of your cloak down to blend in with the night. Shadows danced around your ankles in excitement as you got closer to you and Xaden’s meeting spot. You tried to meet every night either for a walk or in one of your bedrooms.

Coming into the alcove the darkness melted away revealing your boyfriend. Your smile widened into a grin as you jumped into his arms. Xaden spun you kissing the side of your face. When he put you down Xaden hugged you closer to his chest, revealing in your touch and warmth.

“I missed you today.” Xaden murmured. You squeeze him around his midsection and bury your face in his chest. Good gods he smelled amazing. Why does he smell so good? Where does he get his cologne? “I missed you too baby.” You looked up at him to see that smile only you see. Genuine and boyish and happy. You love seeing him like this. It makes you ridiculously happy.

Xaden’s smile immediately fell, his body tensing as he looked around. “What?” You turn and see who the victim of Xaden’s scowl is and your heart stops. “Dain!” You whisper shout at your older brother. His face was a rare shade of red with an angry scowl pulling at his lips.

“Get. Away. From her, now.” Dain growled. You held onto Xaden tighter as he moved you behind him. While you could hold your own Xaden didn’t want Dain to hurt you while trying to get to him. The boys looked like they were going to murder each other. And if anyone heard you would all be in trouble for being out of bed at this hour.

Without thinking you jumped between them with your hands out. “Just…stop. Take a breath and just chill out.” You said sternly without your voice shaking. Xaden seemed to listen but Dain just looked at you with disgust. You wish you could say that look broke your heart, but it didn’t even phase you. Dain’s approval never mattered to you anyway.

“What are you doing sneaking around with him?” He spit that last word out like it burned his tongue. That pissed you off. Your hand balled into a fist as you bared your teeth at Dain. “Why are you following me, brother?” “Keeping an eye on you. You’ve been nothing but trouble so I’m making sure you don’t cause anymore.” You roll your eyes at him.

“She doesn’t need a babysitter Aetos.” Xaden said cooly. “You stay out of this.” He hisses. “Just stop Dain. I don’t need you. Just because we share a last name doesn’t give you the right to monitor me twenty-four, seven. Stay away from me and I’ll stay away from you.”

“I won’t make any promises.” Xaden chimed in with a shit eating grin on his face. Dain steps away from you with that angry scowl still plastered on his face. “Dad won’t be happy.” “Colonel Aetos doesn’t need to know everything. Nor will he care, he never has.” Without another word Dain turned and headed back to the dorms.

You felt Xaden’s hands lightly grasp your hips, turning you to face him again. Xaden wrapped his arms around you as you let out a shaky breath. You had never stood up to your brother like that before and you’d be damned if you cried about it. “Let’s go for our walk love. You can sleep in my room tonight.” You nod pulling his face down to yours to leave a soft kiss on his cheek. You are beyond grateful for this beautiful boy.

[lovecla]

IF YOU LOVE ME, LET ME KNOW | jack hughes.

chapter two:

<last chapter> <next chapter>

➴ warnings: none <3

➴ word count: 2.5k

➴ author’s note: this is pure fluffiness, the calm before the storm, the hughes being the best family in the world and jack making my heart MELT (i literally wrote him). i hope u guys enjoy this too. let me know what u think of this one:))

“AND that, my loves, it’s a wrap on ‘rip to my feelings’!” Grace yelled, and everyone yelled too.

You were in your studio with all of your producers and song-writers, plus Grace, and you had just finished recording the last song on your album.

You were beyond happy. Finishing this meant getting over everything Harris did to you. It was like closure. It was like restarting again.

“Guys, I’m so fucking happy, I love you all so much I could kiss you on the mouth right now,” you said, hugging John— the main producer.

“Don’t think Jack would appreciate that,” Grace mumbled when you hugged her, and you smacked her butt.

Jack.

You had sent him the demo of the album as soon as it was sent to your phone, not really sure why. You just wanted his opinion, that’s all.

Not much fuck buddy of you but whatever!

“Fuck off, Grace Morgan,” you fake whispered, laughing.

You all celebrated and laughed for hours, the time passing quickly whenever you spent it with the people you loved. You were grateful for having so many amazing people in your life, helping you to make your dreams come true.

Your phone rang, and you picked it up, unlocking it and smiling when you saw who had texted: Jack.

It was funny seeing how he complimented you in his own little, weird way. It made your heart beat in the wrong— right— way all over again.

“Did he just ask you on a date?” Grace whispered, probably reading your texts over your shoulder. Everyone else had already left— it was late, after all— and only Grace was left. You were sure she was probably going to sleep at your place anyway.

“I guess? We never just ‘hanged out’ before.�� You sighed, replying to Jack’s texts.

“Woah,” she whistled, sitting back on the couch, looking at you funny. “Are you in love?”

“What?” You laughed, locking your phone. “What do you mean, we’ve been fucking for six months only. Chill.”

“Girl, like time matters to you!” She raised her arms. “You fell in love with that piece of shit in like three weeks, imagine with Jack, who fucks you every other week and treats you like you’re the most precious thing ever.”

“Excuse me? Are we talking about the same Jack?” You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Jack doesn’t treat anyone differently. Besides his family, that is.”

“Like the shit he does for you isn’t anything special, right? Like knowing your Five Guys order, or your favorite movies, or how you eat apple pie before your concerts,” she started listing those things on her fingers.

“He doesn’t know those things!” You raised your voice, trying to convince both you and her.

“Girl, I love you but stop playing dumb. He knows and you know he does! Why are you pretending that he doesn’t care about you? He just asked you on a date, for fuck’s sake.” She rolled her eyes.

“First of all,” you started, mentally listing your reasons. “We don’t know if it’s a date. He just said: dinner. He didn’t say ‘I wanna take you out on a date’. Second of all, I’m not denying anything, but I think I would know if I was in love with him, wouldn’t I?”

Actually. The answer was probably no. Harris fucked up your perception of love, and even though it’s been more than a year that you broke up with him, you still feel like you can’t really trust anyone anymore.

So you wouldn’t exactly be able to tell if you are in love or not. At least, you don’t think so.

But talking about love with your fuck buddy? Hell. No.

“You piss me off.” Grace bickered, turning the TV on. “Go change to your little date. I’ll be here, all alone and sad.”

“Pff, shut up. You’re just alone because you and Nico are dumbasses.” You said like it was a matter of fact and left the leaving room, leaving a very pink Grace behind.

Changing didn’t take long, and applying a light makeup didn’t either. You weren’t going to do anything special because, let’s be real, if you and Jack decided to be reckless and fuck somewhere, that makeup wouldn’t last long. So, why bother?

You left your house, saying goodbye to Grace and kissing her cheek. Jack’s fancy ass car was in front of your garage and you smiled, entering it.

“Hi, Jackie boy,” you greeted him, noticing how fucking good he looked, wearing his burgundy suit. Thank god to whoever created the suit rule in hockey. You’ll forever be grateful.

“Hey.” He greeted back, and did something surprising. He kissed you. Softly, and not like any other kiss you’ve shared in the past.

And that didn’t do anything to help the little cardiac arrest you had every time you were around him.

“Are we ready to rock our lasagna?” You asked, half embarrassed and half confused with what you were feeling. Food always made it better though.

“We sure are.” He smiled before starting the car again.

The silence was comfortable but your thoughts were too loud so you took the liberty of turning the radio on, scaring yourself with how loud the music playing was. And, shockingly, your music. Already Over was blasting through the speakers.

You looked at him, and he just shrugged, cheeks red.

“Were you listening to my music on the way to my place?”

“Yeah, why not? It’s good,” he blushes so cutely you find yourself wanting to chomp a piece of his cheek.

“You’re so cute, Jackie. Thanks, means a lot,” you had a feeling you were blushing too, and you thanked God he wasn’t looking at you. “I’m excited to release it.”

“When are you doing it?” He asked, making a U turn.

“Beginning of the next month. Now I have to take pictures and set up the concept for it. It’s my favourite part.”

“Are you doing any music videos with a guy dying?” He asked and you stared at him, once again surprised. Had he been watching your music videos? All of them? “What?”

“Are you a fan?” You giggled, genuinely happy. Harris hated to talk about your work, and he never listened to your songs for more than ten minutes.

“Nico forces us to listen to your songs and watch your music videos,” he answered, nonchalantly. You smiled, nodding your head. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” You played dumb.

“Like that. You have this little minx stare that you do whenever you’re plotting something.” He smiled this time, and God if the sight didn’t make you feel full.

“You’re no fun,” you sighed, looking at the view. “Also, where is this restaurant? We’ve been driving for at least twenty minutes and nothing in Jersey takes more than that.”

“The restaurant is actually my parents’ house.” He says, like it’s nothing.

“What?!” You yelled, turning your head in his direction. “What do you mean you’re taking me to your fucking parents’?”

“Yeah. Ma’s making lasagna for you.”

Your cheeks were burning hot and you had this bubbly feeling inside of you. You were feeling something really weird and you started to wonder if Grace was right and—

“Soph?” You heard his voice, gentle and soft. You looked at him, noticing that he wasn’t driving anymore, and that the car was now parked in front of a big, beautiful, colonial house. His parents’ house. “We can go back if you want to, baby. Ma won’t be angry or anything like that.”

Stop making me want to trust you, Jack.

He caressed your cheek, and you snapped out of it. “No, it’s fine. I just… you could’ve said something, y’know? I’m wearing sweatpants.” You tried to make a joke, smiling. He smiled too.

“I’ll put on some sweatpants too, so we’re matching,”

“Right.”

You left the car, taking a deep breath. It was just his parents. You weren’t even dating so it would be fine.

Wait.

“What did you tell them? That you’re bringing one of the girls you’re fucking home?” You asked just before you walked in their property.

He raised an eyebrow at you, scowling. “First of all, I’m not fucking anyone else. It’s just you. Second of all, I told them I’m bringing a friend.”

You nodded, not trusting yourself to do anything else.

He’s not fucking anyone else? Jack Hughes? The man whore of the NJ Devils?

Yikes, sure.

You both walked into the house, Jack not bothering knocking before entering it. A delicious smell of fresh tomato sauce and herbs reached your nose and you could swear your mouth was watering.

“Ma, we’re here!” Jack yelled, making you jump a little bit. You eyed him before facing the woman in front of you, who was absolutely gorgeous. She looked so fucking young and pretty, and you were biting your tongue, trying not to say something stupid. “Hi, Ma, this is Soph. Soph, that’s Ellen, Ma Hughes,”

“Hi, Mrs. Hughes. Nice to meet you.” You said, certain that your cheeks were on flame.

Ellen took a step closer, smiling. “Hi, darlin’. No need for formalities, dear, it’s just Ellen. I would hug you but,” she pointed at her apron and shrugged. “A bit dirty.”

“Thank you for having me.”

“No, thank you for making this guy over here visit me,” she slapped Jack’s shoulder, both of them smiling together. “He only called because he said you wanted to eat lasagna and he loves mine so that’s why he’s here.”

If your face wasn’t going to melt before, it definitely was now. You were going to kill Jack. For real this time.

“Come on, Ma, I can’t be worse than Luke and Quinn. They don’t even remember your address anymore,” was Jack actually pouting? Jesus. Your heart was not ready to see that.

“Stop throwing us under the bus, dickhead.” Luke’s voice was heard and you and Jack both watched as both Quinn and Luke entered the room. “‘Sup, Soph.”

“Hi, Luke. Hi, Quinn,” you greeted them with cheek kisses, not even wanting to acknowledge that you had actually missed them. “Long time no see.”

“Hey, Soph,” Quinn quietly answered, not a single thought behind those eyes. “Great to see you.”

“I hope you’re all hungry because your mom outdid herself tonight,” Jim, the dad, said, smiling when he noticed you. “Hello there. I’m Jim.”

“Hi,” you whispered, mortified with all the attention you were getting. Some would think that performing for big crowds would make you less anxious to meet people. Nope. “I’m Sophia. Thank you for having me.”

“It’s fine, as my baby was saying, we do need our son to visit more.”

As they discussed why Jack didn’t visit them more frequently, you felt Jack’s arms around your waist and his mouth on the tip of your ear. You froze. “Yeah, they call each other baby and honey. Sorry about that.”

You managed to smile, trying not to get his family’s attention. They certainly wouldn’t understand why he was this close to a friend.

“I think it’s cute.”

The dinner went awesomely well. The lasagna was amazing and Ellen and Jim were the cutest couple ever, you could see how they’ve raised three amazing men.

They asked questions about what being a postar meant nowadays, and what was it like during your tours, and how could someone sing and dance at the same time, and have you ever met Adele?

They’re great people. Even Quinn and Luke, who had talked to you before on different occasions, made sure you were included in every topic, and Luke even asked for a signed cap so he could wear it at UMich.

“Do you guys know what we should definitely do?” Ellen started, after forcing all of the boys to organize the kitchen and do the dishes, while you sat with her drinking wine. Yeah, you loved her. “Karaoke. Let Soph here show us how good she is.”

“Maa,” you could hear Luke whining, while running his hands through his beautiful curls. “You do this every time.”

“You’ll make her work on her day off? That’s wild, Ma.” Jack joked, putting his arms around your shoulder. You froze again, looking at the expressions of his family, trying to picture anything out of place.

No one was looking at you weirdly, besides Ellen who plastered the most gorgeous smile you’ve ever seen, which made you smile too.

“I don’t mind singing…” you said, softly.

“Perfect!” Ellen stood up from her seat, pouring more wine on her glass. “Jim, set the karaoke thing on.”

“It’s called YouTube, Ma.” Jack rolled his eyes.

“Leave your mom alone, ugly face,” Jim called him out, on his way to do exactly what Ellen asked. “Sophia, can you sing some Elvis?”

“Yes, ‘course.” You also got up, discussing with Jim which song he wanted you to sing.

“Tell her to sing our song, honey!” Ellen yelled from the dinner table.

“Ah, yes, yes.”

Turns out that their song is Can’t Help Falling in Love, which was so freaking sweet. You sang the romantic lyrics while Jim and Ellen danced with each other, swinging slowly and delicately.

Quinn and Luke were recording themselves with you singing in the background, while you waved happily to the camera.

Jack was sitting on the couch, watching you sing. You could feel his eyes on you, observing your every move, smiling whenever you’d hit a high note or change the song’s rhythm.

It was nice. So, so nice. The Hughes were such nice people and you felt so safe and adored around them. They asked you to sing more songs and when you noticed, you were singing an upbeat song with Jim and dancing between Quinn and Luke while Ellen filmed everything. Until Jack grabbed you again and made you sing in front of him, for him. And boy, how you wanted to kiss him. His blue eyes were shining brightly and he looked just as happy as you felt.

You ended the singing when it was around midnight, everyone exhausted and sweaty— even if it was winter.

You started saying your goodbyes and thanking Ellen and Jim for the best lasagna you’ve ever eaten and for the hospitality too.

“I hope you come back soon.” Ellen whispered in your ear when you were hugging her, and you held her slightly tighter.

When you left the house with Jack, you couldn’t contain your happiness inside you. Grabbing his arm, you pulled him until you were near his car, and standing on your tiptoes, you kissed him.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer, both of you moaning inside each other’s mouth. His tongue made its way inside your mouth, pillowy and so soft. You were finally melting into Jack’s arms and nothing could be better.

Until you realized what was going on.

You had just had dinner with Jack’s family, sang and danced with them, and now you were in the middle of the street of a fancy neighborhood, with Jack Hughes holding you close to his chest, while devouring your mouth.

And instead of not feeling anything, instead of keeping things casual, you were feeling everything. Each tiny part of every emotion there is in this world were making their way into your heart and, unfortunately, you didn’t want to take them out.

Because for the first time in more than one year, you wanted to feel.

[tkwrites]

Can I make it up to you? - Nico Hischier x ofc

gif by kawhh

Title: Can I make it up to you? 

Part V in the It Doesn’t Matter AU

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Playlist

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Nico Hischier x Lena (ofc)

Summary: When Lena is hit on at a Devils event and Nico responds by staking his claim rather than checking in to make sure she's okay, she’s understandably pissed. Though their ensuing fight is resolved, Nico still wants to make it up to her. 

Warnings: Sexism and unwelcome advances followed by angst and then a lot of makeup sex. Smut (18+ only!): Fingering (f receiving), oral (f receiving), face sitting, squirting, unprotected p in v (wrap it up unless you’re in a consenting relationship!), spanking, and a bit of exhibitionism if you squint.

Word count: 8,000

Comments: Well, Nico and Lena are back. This piece is out of order (shocking for me, I know), but the missing piece will be written to fill in their story. 

I had this idea of them having makeup sex that I just couldn’t shake. Which, of course, meant they had to get into a fight first. I’m sorry for the angst and all the sexism, but it gets better, I promise. 

It's been so fun writing Nico into the feminist, romance hero of my dreams. I hope he might be yours, too. 

If you did enjoy it, please consider letting me know by commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing. 

Can I make it up to you? 

Part V in the It Doesn’t Matter AU

Lena walked out of the bedroom, and Nico felt his eyes widen. She smiled, and he couldn't do anything but stand there, slack jawed, blinking like a fish. 

He couldn’t get over the fact that Lena was his date. His date. He got to take her out and have other people know she was with him. The feeling exploded in his stomach.

When she twirled, his tongue nearly fell out of his mouth. 

The back of her dress was daringly open, held together by two thin ropes that criss crossed over her shoulder blades. A cowl of the smooth, dark fabric pooled at the small of her back. She wasn’t wearing a bra — at least not that he could see. 

Her hair was down, just brushing her shoulders in soft, beachy waves. She’d refreshed the color the night before, so it was beautifully pastel pink, bringing out the green in her eyes and setting off the color of her skin. Her makeup was just enough to make her look bright and doe eyed.

He was going to have to look at her all night and still be expected to talk to people like a sane person? Fuck. Fuck fuck, fuck.

He finally managed to croak her name, and she giggled. 

“You like it?” 

Like it? He wanted to stay home and worship her in this dress. His mind filled with visions of tracing his lips from the drape of fabric all the way up her spine. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, minding not to tell her she looked beautiful. She did, but Nina’s lectures about how to compliment women rang in his head. 

“Thank you.” 

Lena knew he would like this dress. She saw the way his eyes lingered when women on TV wore backless dresses like this. 

Even still — even knowing — an enormous blast of pride ignited inside her when he was reduced to staring at her open mouthed. She’d chosen right. 

She’d never worn anything like it before. Thankfully, Nicole had helped her pick it out and get the right bra to wear with it. The smooth, delicate fabric felt like a breath of fresh air on her skin.

Walking into the party, Nico couldn’t help feeling smug. When people turned to look at him this time, he was finally in a couple. Not only that, he was in a couple with the person he’d dreamed about coupling with since he was seventeen. He wanted everyone to know she’d chosen him. 

While he went about his schmoozing duties, Lena hung around with the other partners, talking and gossiping and sharing notes on each others outfits before their conversation finally gave way to real life. How people's kids were doing. How hard motherhood was when your partner was only there some of the time. What a weird thing it was to find yourself dating the boy you always dreamed you would. It was a bigger adjustment than she would have thought. 

When she stepped away to order a drink, staying close to the bar to watch it being made, someone stepped up close to her. She figured it was Nico. He was the only one that stood this close. The illusion shattered as masculine voice asked, “so what’s your name?” in a strong Jersey accent. 

Glancing over at him, she took stock. He was wearing a green suit that, on top of clashing against the olive undertones in his skin, was half a size too big for him. He needed a better tailor. And a better hair stylist. The garishly dark combover he was rocking was doing him no favors.

“Alaina,” she said. It wasn’t her name, but it had almost been. Her mother’s mother’s mother was named Alaina, but everyone in her life called her Lena. When it was time for her parents to name their first daughter, they decided to shorten it from the get go. She was named after great-grandma Lena after all. No need to make it complicated. 

“That’s a beautiful name.” He reached forward slightly to brush the backs of his fingers up her arm. 

She stiffened against his touch.

“I’m Reggie,” he said, confirming her suspicion that he might just be her fathers age. Lena felt her skin crawl. Why was a man his age even talking to a girl in her twenties, let alone flirting with her? 

“It’s nice to meet you, Reggie,” she said, giving him a tight smile, “but I really should be getting back…” her words trailed off when she looked over her shoulder to find the other partners had moved on to a different part of the party. 

Damn. There went her easy out. 

“You know,” Reggie said, continuing as if he hadn’t noticed her looking for someone. “My company owns a box for the season if you’d like to catch a game.” 

“I can get tickets.”

“In a box? I doubt it.”

Pursing her lips, Lena took a step back only to have him step forward to keep her from putting too much distance between them. Where was Nico when she needed him? Where was anyone? It was looking more and more like Reggie was the kind of guy who she’d either have to punch or run away from. Possibly both. She hoped she wouldn't have to resort to shouting. 

He smiled as he seemed to realize no one was coming to her aid. 

Lena gulped, feeling her heart begin to flutter in her throat. She pushed her drink aside just in case, grateful that, at least, they were in public.

Nico’s eyes found Lena again. That big guy was still looming over her at the bar. Through the open back of her dress, he could see how tightly her posture muscles were wound. 

Excusing himself from his conversation, he made his way to her. She shouldn’t have to put up with this shit, and this dude needed to know she wasn’t here alone. 

Spotting his forest green suit, Lena relaxed slightly, realizing Nico was walking toward them. She was going to be free of this douche at last. 

Instead of turning his attention on her, though, Nico addressed Reggie as he walked up to them. “Hey man,” he said, slipping his arm possessively around her, his hand cradling her hip.

Reggies eyes darted between them, wide with recognition. The shock wore off quickly though, replaced by a kind of conspiratorial grin, “I should have known a girl like this was with one of you,” he said. “Though I didn't think they took kindly to you dating such rebels.”

Nicos eyebrows raised. Lena wasn't what he would call rebellious. 

Instead of telling Reggie pink hair and a nose ring didn't make a rebel, or saying something about how he and Lena had known each other for years, or anything else, really, Nico took her completely by surprise when he said, “yeah, she’s not single.”

Her posture stiffened. She never saw this kind of cock slinging from Nico. He was usually so much kinder than that, not so concerned with being the bigger man. 

With the Captain standing right in front of him, Reggie immediately launched into a discussion about how the team was doing. 

Nico stood there and kept the conversation going, his hand still at her hip, forearm warm against her bare back. Were they in any other circumstance, she would have relished the feeling of his luxurious suit against her skin.

“Your scoring has really dropped off since the start of the season. Is something wrong you're not telling us?”

He said it with concern in his voice, but Lena knew it was a sentence crafted for maximum impact. She saw the shadow of guilt pass through Nico's eyes before he launched into a media-trained, rehearsed response about how he was trying his best, but sometimes, pucks just didn’t go in the net. 

“You’ve got some —”

Nico cut her off. Even if it meant he was being insulted, he preferred it to this asshole leering at her again. He was trying to keep this creep's eyes off her.

She let out an affronted little snort, and he tried not to smile, touched that she was still willing to go to bat for him. 

It was a solid five minutes of clipped, polite conversation before the guy finally got the hint and left. 

 Nico turned to her only to find her glaring. The triumphant smile slipped from his face. 

“Let’s go get some air,” she said, turning on her heel and walking toward the balcony, breaking his grip in the process. Her tone was icy, and Nico braced for impact as he followed her, his bottle of beer clutched in his hand. 

“What the fuck, Nico?” Lena asked quietly as soon as they were tucked into a dark alcove of the balcony, out of earshot from the other guests. 

“Wha—” 

“What the fuck was that?” 

“I came to rescue you.”

“To rescue me?” she repeated, voice incredulous. “You didn’t even acknowledge me! You hardly even looked at me! I’ve never felt like such a possession.”

“I know men like that,” he tried to explain, “I was trying to get his attention off of you,”

“And in the process, you made me feel like some kind of dumb trophy.”

“A trophy?” he repeated. 

“Yes! An ornament there to do nothing but make you look better,” she said. Her words and tone had maximum impact, smacking into him as if she’d hit him with her open palm. 

Shit. He had done that. His first instinct had been to check on her, but he’d pushed it aside, wanting to let that guy know she wasn’t here alone. He knew he shouldn't have second guessed his gut reaction. 

Goosebumps were rising on her arms in the cold night air. He slipped his jacket off and held it out to her. 

His offering was met with a fierce glare. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation here, Nico.” 

“I know, and I want to, but I can tell you're freezing,” he held the suit coat out again, “please.”

She took it from him and threw it on the ground. “Will you listen to me, now?” 

Chastened, he nodded. “I’m sorry.”

God, why did he have to have those eyes? Those earnest, puppy dog, always wanting to do better, brown eyes. 

“Nico, I needed rescuing, and instead, you came over and started dick measuring with that guy. Who, by the way, I’m pretty sure was old enough to be my father, but still hit on me.”

His jaw hardened. “He was hitting on you?”

“Yes.” Her voice took on a sarcastic tone, “what did you think he was doing? Telling me about his kids?” 

“I don’t know…”

“For some reason, men of a certain age always think that having tattoos or piercings means you’re a slut.” 

Wincing, he asked, “what did he do?” 

“Well, he touched me for one.” 

His jaw went hard, and a protective kind of anger flashed in his eyes. 

“What?” Nico was going to kill him.

“Not like totally inappropriately,” she amended angrily. “He touched my arm, but it still made my skin crawl.”

What the fuck? Hadn’t there been enough media and enough talk for men to know they couldn't touch women without their permission? Even when someone asked for a picture, Nico never put his arm around them unless they did it first or they gave permission. 

“Then he told me I should come watch a game in his company owned box,” she scoffed. “He totally ignored me when I said I had access to tickets.”

Anger flared in his chest. Not only was this dude a creep, he hadn’t even listened to her. “How can I be better?” he asked. Not only in this instance, but to be a better man.

“I wish you had checked in with me before you started engaging or telling him I’m not single. I don't belong to you.” 

“I don't think you belong to me, Lena,” he said, hurt she would even think that.

“Really? The whole ‘yeah, she's not single’ thing,” she threw her voice into a distorted imitation of his own, accent and all, “coulda fooled me.” 

“I didn't…” fuck. He had said that. “I was just trying to get him to focus on me instead. I don’t think you belong to me. You’re my girlfriend, I know that’s different.” 

The really annoying thing was that Lena knew he was telling the truth. It wasn’t an empty pronouncement. He really was sorry. And everything she knew of him told her he would learn from this and try to get better. All the same, she wondered if he really got where she was coming from.

“Do you even understand why I'm upset?” she asked, arms dropping to her sides. 

He'd royally fucked up if she was asking that. “Yes!” He schooled his voice into a less frantic tone and continued, “I understand.” 

“What do you understand?” 

“That you felt disrespected when I went straight into trying to solve the problem instead of checking to see if you were okay first.” It was something he often talked about with Nina and his mother. Women rarely wanted a solution to a problem. Most of the time, they just wanted someone to listen. And instead of doing that, he’d just barreled straight into fixing it. He knew better. He was a fucking idiot. 

“Oh.” It was a more succinct explanation than she'd been expecting. 

“I won’t ever do that again, Lena. I’m sorry,” he said, reaching out for her. 

Thankfully, she came into his arms willingly, even tucking her cold nose under his jaw. He swallowed against the sensation and slid his hands over her back. 

“Lena, you're like ice,” he chastised, trying to cover as much of her as he could. 

Now that the adrenaline of anger was ebbing away, the cold seeped in — and it seeped in fast. She stepped closer to Nico to try to absorb some of his body heat. 

“Can we get you inside?” he asked, rubbing her back. His hands were cold too, so he was sure it wasn’t doing any good, but it was better than nothing.  

“Thank you for being willing to understand,” she said, ignoring his question. 

It was such strange phrasing that Nico pulled back to look into her face. “Of course I’m willing.”

“Not all men are,” she said, tugging him back so their chests were once again flush. 

The fact that she’d had to put up with assholes who didn’t even try to understand where she was coming from ate at him. She deserved better than that. He wanted to be better than that. 

 Holding her, out in the cold, he dared to look at the pieces of himself he didn’t like to. The ones that were jealous and overly eager to prove that Lena was with him. That guy hadn’t posed any competition, and he knew it. In his heart of hearts, he knew she would never do that to him. He had no reason to get defensive of their relationship and should have checked in with her first. She should have been his top priority, not how others saw him. 

“I’m sorry, Lena,” he said, his voice quiet against her ear. “I let my pride come before how you were feeling.” 

Damn him. This was why she could never stay mad at him. “Thank you.” 

Her lips brushed against his neck when she said it, and it caused a shiver of a different kind to ripple over his skin. 

“I love you,” he said. 

She pulled back to look into those big brown eyes. “I love you, too.”

“Can I take you back inside now?” he asked. “I really don’t want you to get frostbite.”

“It’s not cold enough to get frostbite,” she said even as she broke away and bent to pick up his jacket. 

He was momentarily mesmerized by her bare back in the winter moonlight and was still staring when she held his jacket out to him. 

“I’m sorry I threw it on the ground,” she said, attempting to knock some of the dust off. It had been a childish thing to do, and she wished she could take it back. He’d just been trying to care for her, and she’d been so hellbent on making her point, she’d thrown his very sweet gesture into the dirt. 

A half smile lifted the corner of his mouth. “I deserved it.”

“It was sweet, and I’m sorry I threw it back in your face.” 

“It’s okay,” he assured, taking it from her and settling it on her shoulders. 

The silk lining was cold against her skin, and she shivered. 

“Let’s go inside,” he said, gently turning her around so he could lead her back to the party, his arm draped around her shoulders. 

Snuggling into his side, Lena took a deep breath, readying herself to face the crowd of people again. At least no one had heard them arguing. 

“Do you want to leave?” 

“You need to stay, don’t you?” 

“Well, yeah, but…” 

The warm air in the ballroom stung as it collided with the chill on her skin. “I’ll stay with you,” she said, shrugging his jacket off and handing it back to him. She didn’t want to go home alone. She’d just be sitting there waiting for him anyway. 

“Okay,” he said, leaning in to press a kiss to her temple. 

“There you are!” Nicole exclaimed. “Were you two sneaking off? Naughty, naughty,” she teased, winking at Nico. “Though, I can’t really blame you with how good she looks in this dress.”

He gave her a bashful smile. 

“Come on, Lena. Kristen was just about to tell us the funniest story.” 

Allowing herself to be pulled into the party, Lena glanced back at Nico. She sent him a smile and a little wave. The last thing she saw before the crowd closed around them was his cheeky wink, as he mouthed, ‘I love you.’

An hour later, they were tucked into the back of an Uber on the way home. Lena was playing with Nico’s fingers as she recounted Kristen’s story about Eric trying and failing to make dinner while caring for their kids and dogs. 

He laughed, glad that after the night they’d had, she was still willing to share these silly stories with him. 

“We’re okay, right?” he asked, entwining his fingers with hers.

“Yeah,” she said, lifting her face so their eyes met. Her anger had faded almost completely. “Of course we’re okay.”

A sigh let go in his chest. 

“Nico,” she raised a hand to cradle his jaw, “I know you weren’t trying to hurt me or anything. I know you better than that. It just kind of struck a nerve, and I lost my temper.”

Shooting her a rueful smile, he corrected, “you had every right to be upset with me. I was an ass.” 

She laughed, “you kind of were.” 

Leaning over, he pressed a kiss to her temple and let his voice drop low, “can I make it up to you?” 

“Make it up to me?” she repeated, eyes darting to his. Was he implying what she thought he was? 

His brown eyes smoldered as he nodded.

“What did you have in mind?”

“Whatever you want,” he murmured, dipping his lips to her neck.  

Tipping her head to give him more access, she found her voice suddenly much breathier than it had been. “I think we can arrange for that.”

He pulled away only when the car pulled up to their building. 

The smug little smile on her face as they rode the elevator nearly made him start to pant. He knew what that smile meant. 

Pausing as they passed through the kitchen, Nico asked, “do you mind if I grab something to eat before?” The food at those parties was never quite enough.

She shook her head. “I’ll meet you in your room.”

Although she hadn’t slept in her own bed in weeks, she hadn’t really moved anything into his room, so it didn’t quite feel like theirs. 

A few minutes later, perched on the end of the bed, she watched him come in, admiring the way he moved in his beautiful, dark green suit. The vest hugged his torso in a way that made him look deliciously thick. That had certainly changed since they were seventeen. 

Nico stopped in front of her, swallowing the last bite of apple.

“What do you want?” he asked. God, his accent was already thick, and he hadn't even touched her. 

She leaned back and swept her hair from her face before bracing with that arm, too. “I want to watch you undress.”

Nodding, he swallowed hard. “Do you want it a certain way?”

Shaking her head, she said, “just go slow.”

He started with his tie. The slip of the silk under his shirt collar was a hypnotic whisper. 

Watching her watch him made him breathless with anticipation. It was an incredible turn on, knowing she didn’t want him to be anything but who he already was. He knew she didn’t want a performance.

“Can I hang this up?” he asked, holding up the suit coat. 

 She nodded.

He walked into the closet and came back with a hanger. He removed his vest and hung it up before covering it with the coat. 

“Your hands are so sexy,” she breathed, watching him work the buttons of his shirt, top to bottom. 

His dimple winked at her. 

Glancing up, he asked, “do you want me to get you off with them?”

“Uh hu,” she breathed. She was still reclined on the bed, but her legs were now crossed, attempting to get some friction between her thighs. Just the thought of it, of his casual offer to bring her pleasure, had desire singing through her veins, ending hot and heavy between her legs.

He worked on the buttons of his cuffs, watching her. Her face was flushed, eyes blown dark with lust. Finally, he shouldered off the button down and tossed it behind him to be added to the hamper later. 

“Undershirt first,” she said when he reached for the button of his pants. 

Not bothering to hide her need, she drank in the movement of his arms and chest as he worked the shirt over his head. She squeezed her legs a little tighter together. 

He paused for a moment then, letting her drink in the sight of him shirtless in those incredibly well tailored trousers. 

“Turn around,” she said. 

“Why?” 

“Because I want to admire your ass in those pants.”

He blushed but did as she requested, adding in a little shake.

She laughed, then let out a groan as he stilled and flexed slightly, showing off his toned back.

When he looked over his shoulder, she’d collapsed back on the bed. 

“I can’t wait.”

“Wait for what?” he asked, turning back around. 

“I can’t wait for you to touch me.” 

He took a step forward. When she didn’t stop him, he took another and another until he was standing right in front of her. Reaching down, he slid one of his hands up her smooth calf. The soft fabric of her dress bunched around his wrist as his hand slid onto her thigh. 

Lena moaned, and it shot straight to his groin. He loved that sound more than any other in the world. “This is good?” he asked. 

“Yes.” 

He tried to push the skirt up over her hips, but her hand caught his forearm, halting the movement. “Need it now,” she said, guiding his hand between her legs. 

The smile he gave her was wicked. Moving her underwear out of the way, he dipped his fingers into her sweet, wet heat. “You’re dripping.”  

Her back arched, trying to get her clit closer to his hand. “Yeah. I’ve had to look at you in that fucking suit all night.” 

It was always a pleasant surprise when she said things like this. When it became evident that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her. “I’ve been half hard looking at you in this dress all night,” he admitted, finally adjusting so the heel of his hand pressed into her. 

She made a keening noise and ground against him. “Bought it just for you.” 

As her admission pulled even more blood from his brain, his entire body froze.

“Nico!” she complained. 

He snapped back to himself and started moving again, curling his fingers inside her and following the wave of her hips. 

“Oh,” she moaned, head thrown back. “Just like that.” 

He hadn’t been able to touch her like this for very long, but in the short amount of time he had, he’d been an attentive student. He seemed to remember everything she told him about what she liked. 

“Nico.” The way she said his name while they were making love was a symphony in his ears. What had he ever done in his life to deserve to be in this moment? Especially after fucking up so terribly that evening.

“What do you need?” he asked, pressing a little harder. 

Breath rushed from her mouth, “kiss me.” 

Fingers still buried inside her, he covered her body with his and captured her mouth. He swallowed every noise she made until she broke away, panting. 

“Right there,” she moaned, hips rolling. Something about the way he was touching her, fingers crooked just so, had fire licking through her veins. “Keep your fingers right there.” 

Working the spongey spot inside her, he breathlessly awaited her climax. 

“I —” The words she was going to say fell right out of her brain. They came crashing back with sudden force as Nico continued his magic. “I’m gonna come.”

“Yes. I love it when you come for me.”

Pleasure, more intense than she’d ever felt before, broke open inside her and, clutching the comforter, Lena cried out.

Nico watched her face, fascinated, as he felt her release slick his fingers .

“Fuck,” he groaned, “you’re so sexy.”

The pleasure kept coming until sensitivity turned his touch into a branding iron. Squirming away, she croaked, “too much. Too much.”

Slipping his hand from her and out from under her dress, Nico watched her chest rise and fall in sharp little gasps as he brought it to his mouth. 

“Oh my god,” she said, eyes fixed on the ceiling. 

She could practically feel Nico’s wide smile. 

“I’ve never felt anything like that.” 

“Really?” 

“What did you do?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You were doing that,” she held up her hand, crooking her fingers as if beckoning him to her. 

“Someone told me it was the best way,” he said, a blush darkening his cheeks. 

“Someone?” 

“Courtney,” he admitted. 

Courtney had been a girl he’d hooked up with on and off whenever he was in New Jersey. One of them would snap the other, and they’d meet up, usually every few weeks. When Lena had moved in, he’d stopped responding to her, and she’d eventually stopped asking. 

Lena only met her once but instantly disliked her, later telling him, “I don’t know, she’s just so obsessed with herself. She hardly even acknowledged I was there.”

It had been awkward to watch the two of them interact. Courtney, who Nico knew liked him more than he liked her, and Lena, who at the time, he thought didn’t like him the way he liked her. It had put them in an awkward triangle of disproportionate feelings. When Courtney had left to go home, she told him, “you’re so full of shit, Nico. When you two figure out what the hell is going on between you, let me know.” 

He’d been affronted at the time, hurt she would insinuate he and Lena had anything together. Now, looking back, he could understand how uncomfortable it must have been for her to be stuck between two people so in love with each other. She must have felt like he was playing games with her. She’d still spent the night in his bed when he asked her to come over three weeks later, though. 

“Hu,” Lena said, holding herself back from continuing, at least she was good for one thing. 

“Have you never…” he trailed off. 

“Never what?” 

His blush was back, “Have you never…I mean, wasn’t that your…” he had to pause, trying to remember the word, “your g-spot?” 

A series of puzzle pieces clicked into place all at once. “I wasn’t sure I had one,” she admitted, turning her head to look into his face. “I’ve never been able to find it.”

Half of his mouth curved in an amused smile. “None of your boyfriends tried?” he asked, tracing the edge of her dress, where it curved around her shoulder. He’d daydreamed of making Lena come like that for years — ever since Courtney taught him what the g-spot was and how to find it. 

“No,” she snorted. “Milo gave decent head, but none of them were as invested as you are.” 

His vision flared red for a moment before fading back to normal. Most of him was smug that he’d been the first one to find hers, but a part of him was angry she’d wasted so much time on losers who didn’t deserve her. 

Lena sighed. No wonder she’d never felt anything like that. She never had. 

“What do you want?” Nico asked, his hand slipping down her side, sliding over the slippery fabric with ease. 

“Hm?” 

“What do you want?” he repeated, “I’m making it up to you, remember?”

“I want to sit on your face,” she said, not missing a beat. 

Nico grinned. He loved getting her off with his mouth, but the prospect of getting her off with his mouth while she was above him and he could see her beautiful face? What a dream. 

“You’ll have to help me get this dress off,” she said, standing from the bed. “It’s taped.”

“Taped?” he repeated, sitting up. 

She turned her back to him, and before she could explain what she meant, he made good on his earlier promise to himself, trailing his lips from the cowl pooled at her low back up to the little ropes holding the dress on.

Lena hummed, a shiver running through her body. If he was going to have this reaction all the time, she was never covering her back again.  

“What did you need?” he asked, lips whispering over the top of her spine, just under her short hair. 

“Nicole helped me tape it,” she said, running a hand under one of the sides until it caught, “so it wouldn’t fall off, or accidentally expose something.”

His fingers followed hers, easing the tape from her skin before repeating on the other side.  

She turned around, grasping the fabric at her hips so she could lift the dress over her head. 

Nico drank in each movement, his dick twitching when the black lace of her underwear was exposed. 

She thought about hanging it up, but there was a wet spot from her orgasm that would need to be cleaned off before she could wear it again. Instead, she tossed it aside, so it draped artfully across the floor. 

He made a low noise in his throat. 

She stood before him in black pumps, a tiny pair of black lace underwear and a bra that was some kind of free-standing contraption. No straps and no band. As she went about removing it, he realized it was stuck to her skin. It must not have been that uncomfortable, though. The red marks had already mostly faded when she discarded it with the dress. 

After easing her thong off, Lena held it out to him, hooked on one finger. She’d bought it, wanting to see it tucked into his pocket by the end of the night. While she’d been getting dressed, she’d wondered if it might end up there before they left the gala, but that hadn’t worked out. Good thing, too. Everyone would have known. That dress really didn’t hide anything.

“God, you’re perfect,” he breathed, taking the underwear from her and tucking it into his pants pocket. 

Preening, she motioned for him to lay back. 

He did, scooting up to the pillows to get in a comfortable position. 

Lena waited for him to get settled before straddling him. 

Watching her crawl up his body, knowing where she was going to end up, was perhaps the hottest thing he’d ever experienced in his life.

“After this,” she said, hovering over him, just close enough that the only thing he could smell was her sweet, humid heat, “I want you to bend me over the bed and fuck me.”

“Okay.”

Like he could say no to anything she wanted while they were in this position. 

She made a satisfied humming noise and lowered to his mouth. 

He groaned, hands coming up to grasp her hips, fingers digging into the flesh to keep her on top of him. He wanted to keep her here as long as possible.

He played with her clit, then licked through her, savoring the juices that gathered on his tongue. He hummed just to see her squirm and her nipples tighten. 

When he tried to pull away, and she followed him with a whine, he couldn't help but laugh. 

“Touch yourself for me,” he urged before latching his mouth back onto her. 

Clutching the headboard with one hand for balance, she toyed with her nipple with the other. 

The sight of it made his dick jump in his pants. “Das ist es,” he murmured, purposefully not bothering to translate. She always seemed to like it when he used his native language in bed, especially if it was praise.

Her head tipped back with a groaned, “oh fuck,” as she moved to the other breast. 

The need to get her off, to make sure she had the best orgasm possible, was a palpable itch he needed to scratch. It felt like he might just die without it. Keeping his left hand at her hip for balance, he brought the other to her center. 

Feeling his fingers tease her entrance, Lena popped her hips back to facilitate him. She was rewarded with a low hum of appreciation and a wink. 

Reveling in her expression — eyes rolled back, lashes fluttering and jaw slack — Nico continued his pursuit, easing two fingers into her, determined to find her g-spot. He’d done it before, he could surely do it again. 

He knew he'd found it, not only from the slightly different, spongey texture but also from the stuttered moan of pleasure that crawled up her throat. 

Her left hand smacked back onto the headboard, grasping desperately for balance as her hips rolled atop his face.

Milking her clit with his mouth, he worked his fingers in and out and up and down until she was trembling above him, chanting, “Yes! Nico, yes!”

He hummed back, moaning as a fresh wave of her arousal slicked over his chin. If this wasn’t about him making up for being such a prat, he would beg her to turn around so he could feel her mouth at the same time.

This was a whole new feeling. The combination of Nico’s extraordinary mouth, along with his magic fingers, was the catalyst for a series of reactions Lena had never felt together before. First, there was the intense heat that shimmered over her skin, then the pleasure that zinged from her core all the way up to her brain, and through her legs, right to her toes, still tucked into her pumps. Finally, there was the swirl of emotion and sensation that took up residence in her low belly. All together, they resulted in an orgasm so intense, she didn’t even have words to describe it. 

Color and sound and heat rushing through her until they swelled to bursting, unleashing all over Nico’s face. 

Choking out a groan of surprise as Lena’s orgasm gushed over his hand and flooded his mouth, he tried to commit every detail of this night to memory. He’d never made a woman squirt before and was bound and determined to remember everything so he could recreate it. He wanted to experience this over and over again.

She practically fell off of him, and they lay there, gasping. 

“Jesus Christ,” he murmured, swiping at the liquid dripping off his neck. He had no idea if it was her release or his own sweat. He didn’t care. 

“Fuck me,” Lena breathed, her hand coming up to her forehead in disbelief. “You’re just bringing all sorts of things out of me today.” 

Nico started to giggle, and Lena couldn't help but join in. They soon found themselves rolling toward each other, overtaken with laughter. It ended up being both of their favorite memories of the night. Yes, Nico had just made her come so hard she saw stars, but this — this laughing together in the middle of it all felt so…comfortable. It was a reminder that at it’s core, their relationship hadn’t changed all that much. 

“I love you so much,” Nico laughed against her mouth. 

“I love you, too,” she said before silencing him with a kiss. 

He moaned and pulled her on top of him.

After a few more minutes of passionate kissing, chests still occasionally shaking with laughter, Lena pulled away. Grinding her core against his stomach - knowing it drove him wild - she said, “well, I think I’m plenty prepped.” 

He grinned and managed to tamp down most of his laughter. 

Helping her off of him, he watched her stand and brace her hands on the mattress before hauling himself out of the bed and shoving his pants down. When he’d pulled the hanger from the closet, he’d intended to hang them up, but the prospect of fucking her stole too much of his brain power to care anymore. So they stayed heaped on the floor as he took his place behind her, rutting his hard cock against her. 

She moaned and popped her hips back to grind on him. If she kept that up, he was going to come before he even got inside her. 

What was it she’d said? I want you to bend me over the bed and fuck me. Bringing a hand to the back of her neck, he pushed her forward until her chest pressed flush to his mussed comforter. 

Her heels were still on, and even though they pitched her legs forward at an awkward angle, forcing her to grasp for balance with her toes, she was glad she hadn’t kicked them off. She would have been too short without them, and there was something so hot about having to rely on him for her balance.

Lena moaned. She’d dreamed of this so many times. Of him coming into her room, pressing her down to the bed, or sweeping everything off her desk to bend her over the hard surface, and using those powerful legs and hips to fuck her brain into mush. When he told her, however you want me, she knew she had to take advantage. 

 Fuck, she was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen in his life. Seeing her bent over like this, with her beautiful back and the ample curves of her ass and hips on full display, was the fulfillment of a fantasy he hadn’t even known he had. He felt like the luckiest man on the planet. 

“You like that?” he asked, sliding his erection through her wet center.

Shifting her hips back, trying to entice him inside her, she breathed, “yes.” 

He took the bate, but only teased her entrance with the thick head of his cock. 

“Nico,” she whined. 

“Hm?” he asked, enjoying this far more than he ever thought he would. 

“Fuck me.” 

Something occurred to him suddenly, “do we need a safe word?” 

She was too busy trying to get more of him inside her without falling over to respond. 

Easing back as he lifted his hand off her neck, he asked, “what’s your safe word? I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“You won’t hurt me.”

“Lena,” he admonished. 

“Fine,” she huffed, mind whirring, “cantaloupe.” She’d bought one just the day before, and it was the the first thing that popped into her mind that didn’t sound too close to something she might yell out naturally, like puck, which was the first word she’d thought of. “Now fuck me.” 

A deep groan let go in his chest, and Nico pressed her back down, hand now resting between her shoulder blades. “This is okay?” he asked. 

“Yes,” she huffed, frustration evident in her voice, “come on.” 

His only response was to trace his thumb over her skin. 

“Please,” she whined, not caring that she sounded desperate and needy. She felt desperate and needy. 

Chuckling, he gave her no warning before burring his cock in her sweet, tight center. 

Hands fisting the comforter, Lena’s back swayed like a snake as an animalistic cry flew from her mouth. 

This kind of standing doggy, which she found allowed for stronger thrusting than kneeling, had always been one of her favorite positions. It felt new with Nico, though, who was thicker than any of her previous partners. He hit spots in her she never knew she had and filled her in a way she didn’t think was possible. 

Panting, she moved with him. The solid feel of him behind and inside her made her desperate for more. “Nico,” she moaned. Whatever else she was going to say jumbled in her mouth as he withdrew to the tip before burying himself back in her warmth. 

God, she was the most amazing woman he’d ever met. Her head was turned, so he got a view of her blissful expression in profile as she moaned and panted for him. The sight of her ass bouncing off his hips had him desperate to do things he’d never imagined himself doing before. Good thing they had a safe word. She might just need to use it. 

His free hand came down on her ass with a sharp slap before he grabbed the globe of it, kneading the muscle. 

She cried out. 

“That’s good?” he asked, wanting to make sure it wasn’t a cry of pain. 

“Yes,” she moaned, “so good, Nico.” She’d never liked getting spanked before. Then again, she’d never trusted someone like she trusted Nico. She knew he wouldn’t push it too far, which had always been her hesitation with the guys who tried it before. When Nico did it, it sent so much unexpected electricity rocketing through her system, she couldn't let go of the idea of him doing it again. 

He switched hands, so his right pressed into her back, and his left was free to smack her other cheek until it was red enough to match its partner. There was something incredibly arousing about knowing she trusted him to do this. That she found it hot, too. 

Back arching with the pleasurable pain, Lena begged, “harder.” 

“You want me to spank you harder?” he asked, a little surprised. He hadn’t exactly been gentle about it. 

Her head shook, just slightly, “Fuck me. Fuck me harder, Nico.” 

Sliding his hands over her curves and onto her hips to get a good grip, he got into a more grounded stance and snapped his hips to hers. 

The fulfillment of this fantasy nearly drove Lena out of her mind.  

Her face turned slightly, so her shout was muffled by the comforter. Which was a shame, really. He wouldn’t mind his neighbors overhearing this. Especially that dick next door who checked her out every time they passed by each other in the hall. 

Unable to hold it in, he moaned, “You’re so perfect for me, Lena.” 

“Yes,” she chanted, “for you, Nico. Only for you.” 

He wanted to make her come around his cock, but her declaration had a surge of heat streaking through him, so hot that his resolve crumbled in one fell swoop.

“Fuck, gonna come,” he groaned, his rhythm turning sloppy and swift. 

“Yes,” her hips tipped, just so, making her even tighter. 

The sensations became too much, and her name burst from his mouth in a shout. 

Feeling his hot release spill into her, Lena moaned.

Joints liquified by his orgasm, Nico collapsed, his chest pressing into her sweaty back. 

It took a few moments before he could get his mouth to work right. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled into her hair. 

“For what?” she laughed.

Feeling came back into his legs, and he eased out. “Didn't last long enough for you to get off.” 

With his weight off her. Lena crawled onto the bed, desperate to give her legs a rest. Her heels clunked to the floor, one after the other.

He climbed on beside her, pulling her against him. 

“You know,” she said as she turned over so they were face to face, “just because I didn't get off that one time doesn't mean I didn't thoroughly enjoy myself.” 

“You deserve to get off whenever I do,” he argued. 

“That's really sweet, Nico,” she assured, a hand coming up to caress his cheek and push his hair from his face. She knew he had a tendency to be too hard on himself, wanting everything to be perfect every time. “But don't forget you just made me come so hard I squirted.” 

He scoffed, “like I could ever forget that.” 

“And it's not like you came without getting me off,” she assured, tracing soft patterns on his scalp. “It evens out in the end.”

He made a discontented noise but didn't argue. 

She let it drop. “Let's go clean up, yeah? If you're really worried about it, you can get me off in the shower.” 

Pulling her even closer and burying his face in her neck, he told her, “I love you.” 

“I love you, too,” she said, fingers carding through his hair. “Now, come on. I need to shower. You've made a right mess of me.” 

Laughing, he slid off the bed and lifted her into his arms. 

He deposited her onto the bathroom counter and started the shower. 

“You’re sure you’re okay?” he asked, concern in his eyes as he studied her face.

“With what?” 

“I didn’t hurt you?” 

She shook her head, “no. I would have told you if you did. I know you would have stopped if I told you to.” 

A relieved sigh let go in his chest. 

He lifted her off the counter and followed her into the shower. 

After soaping each other up, Nico did spend some time on his knees, getting her off not just once but several more times. He was too taken with her shaking legs and panting mouth as her hands sunk into his hair to stop at one.

“I did enough?” he asked a while later, after pajamas had been donned, and they’d crawled into bed.

“Enough what?”

“I made it up to you?” 

“Mmmhmmm…” she mumbled sleepily.

Tucking himself against her, he relished the warmth of her body pressed against his. 

“I forgave you long before I got naked, though,” she said, feeling it was important to clarify. “The awesome sex was just a bonus.” 

He chuckled softly, pressing a few soft kisses to her shoulder. 

“I love you,” she said, voice slow with fatigue. 

“I love you, too. Thank you for believing in me.” 

“You’re the best man I’ve ever known, Nico.”

Heart swelling in his chest, he pulled her a bit closer and settled in to fall asleep.  

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Playlist

To read all my fics, check out the Fanfiction Masterlist

[mikalilys]

Please stop publicly hating on fanfics. PLEASE!! Especially in a comment section of a video that’s about the fic or the fandom, because whether you’re aware of it or not, the author could have a social media account on that platform and see the hate. The hate on something they did for fun, for free. If you want more content then you have to stop hating. these authors aren’t celebrities they don’t have pr teams or people dealing with hate for them, they’re participants in fandom, and they’re real people.

Fanfics are not books, yes some are amazing enough to be, but you do not buy them, they’re provided to you for free. A fanfiction being popular is not like a book you bought sitting on your shelf, you should not feel obligated to read it because you spent money on it. Because you didn’t. it’s free. Fanfics no matter how popular should not be treated and reviewed like books, you do not get to publicly criticise or say “how are people buying this?!” Because they’re not. It’s free. It doesn’t matter if you think it’s overrated, it’s something someone did for fun, and you don’t get to criticise that, especially because it’s public for you to read!! Don’t be mad that something’s overrated, be glad that it was even up in the first place, someone could have easily just left it as a draft and never posted it, but they did. They decided to share this piece of themselves, to the fandom for anyone to read and that is a gift.

Ao3 is an uncensored website for fanfics, you can write about literally anything. And yet I see “no don’t read that fic it’s problematic!!” In a comment section. Fanfiction is not censored, if you want morals and every character being perfect and making the ‘right’ choices, then get off ao3. Also reminder that an author can write characters making decisions that they don’t agree with, for depth of the story. Just because your favourite character, that you see as the pinnacle of righteousness, makes a bad decision or says something mean does not make the story bad or problematic. It also doesn’t make the author agree with that decision. All the time authors of published books write about morally grey characters or villains. But when an ao3 author does it all of a sudden they must have committed the war crimes that they wrote their villain to commit. Do you realise how stupid that sounds?? 😭

Also don’t post vague negative videos about something/someone even if you don’t say who or what it’s about, it leads the comment section to gossip about who they hate and that’s just not cool. And tagging the fandom that they’re in??? 90% of the time they’re going to see that.

Public hate is not cool, if you don’t like someone, talk to you friends about it if you’re craving other peoples validation so badly. You don’t need to post something publicly. And I know hate gets more popular then love in fandom, no matter if it’s headcanons or fics or creators, but that doesn’t make it good. I don’t know why people are so negative all the time, like I don’t care what headcanons you hate, why do you even spend that much time thinking about something you hate?? I want to hear what headcanons you like, I want to know you fav characters, your kins, literally anything.

Sorry this is so long, it just pisses me off to see a fun video about fandom and then I open the comments and it’s filled with hate. This is a fandom, have fun with it!!! Please. 😭

[readerstories]

When You Touch Me - Wolverine x male reader x Deadpool 4/?

Sorry for the short chapter with the wait, but! This was supposed to be a 5+1 scenario thing, and I got all of the 5 scenarios finished (other than a grammar read through), so that means I have stuff that I can actually schedule posting :3 Next chapter on Sunday! (AO3) (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8)

Warnings/tags: male reader, canon-typical violence, enemies to friends to lovers, eventual smut, slow burn

Wordcount: 931

Summary: You’ve heard many stories about how people met their soulmates. Everyone crazier than the last, ranging from typical meet cutes, meeting with one of them at death's door, in war, meeting at your soulmate's wedding to another, and everything in between and outside of that. You had just never expected to add yours to the crazy list, meeting yours in a fight, only realizing after trying to kill each other for at least half an hour. And you certainly don’t expect to have another.

You shouldn’t have left as quickly as you did, you realize in hindsight.

You had gone there to talk, to make some sort of deal so you could minimize the side effects, and the amount spent with your soulmate. Instead of the universe letting you follow your plan, you found out you had another soulmate, fought him (for less than a minute), tore your stitches, and then got stitched up by your first soulmate.

It was a lot of things. 

Confusing, a mess, weird. 

So you panicked, and ran.

At least it seems they are managing to tame their bonds to you somewhat, as you no longer constantly feel their feelings in the back of your mind. You absentmindedly wonder if it’s easy for them, if they’ve had training with each other. How long have they been together even? You shook your head, it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that the bonds have turned to a low hum, almost like the noise of a fridge that you tune out as background noise, instead of everongoing chatter.

You are happy about that.

So you don’t seek them out again. 

You don’t want to. 

For as long as you can.

You know you will have to eventually, the side effects will not be pleasant.

But for now, you don’t want them near you.

However, it seems the universe has other plans for you.

Because of fucking course it does.

You meet Wade first, again. 

While working, again.

It’s only been a week, and though Evelyn had told you to rest, there is no rest for the wicked. Or something like that.

The job was supposed to be easy anyway.

Emphasis on supposed to.

Because the universe decides to send Wade your way.

Of fucking course.

It was just being a guard at some rich guy's house party, standing with another guard, keeping watch. Plenty of booze, food, drugs, women and men in skimpy clothing. So far it had gone well, the only thing you had had to do was turn down a few unwanted advantages from some of the aforementioned skimpily clothed people that had gotten terribly lost in their drunken and drugged state.

All you had done was go to the bathroom, checking on your bandages quickly and taking a piss.

When you return, it’s to find the other guard slumped against a wall. You swear, running over, checking for a pulse as you kneel down, gun now in hand. He’s breathing, you reach for your radio, but stop as you feel a gun pressed into the back of your skull.

Fuck.

“Should you even be working right now?”

Double fuck.

You turn around, the gun backs off just enough that it doesn’t brush your nose as you turn around. It follows you as you stand up, your own gun still in your hand, though you don’t aim it.

“Wade.” One of your soulmates- The man stands in front of you, dressed in a red suit like the first time you saw him, weapons and all. One of them currently pointing at you.

“Awwww, you remember my name!” The gun is aimed at your forehead. Around the muzzle it says “smile for the flash” in golden letters. You think you should feel some fear, but there’s none.

You lean forward, saying nothing while keeping a straight face, wondering if you will feel its cold kiss against the warm skin of your forehead. Before you can, Wade shifts the gun so it’s aiming at your shoulder instead, face still and unreadable to you behind his mask.

“You really should be resting, pookie, wounds like that don’t heal overnight, and even if you might get some of our healing eventually, we have not spent any time together for that to happen!” His tone is chipper, if a little strained. Your anger mixes with confusion, and though you want to ask what the fuck he means, you ask something completely different instead.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Now you can tell he’s pouting under the mask as you look him up and down.

“Boooo, keeping it professional. Oh well, I’ll get more of you later. I’m here to scare the ever living shit out of the shady guy that hired you, so he’ll cough up the fuck-ton of money he owes the shady people that hired me. Can’t kill him, but I can maim. And kill people in the way.” That last part is added as an afterthought, and if the universe was any part sane, you would feel a tinge of fear.

It’s not though, so all you feel is annoyance.

“God damn it Wade.” You rub your face, debating on shooting him just so he’ll do something about his own gun that’s still aimed at your shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah, a phrase loved by many. Oh, since I’m at work, it’s Deadpool. Sorry in advance.”

“Wha-” You don’t get to say anything more, as the butt of Wade’s gun connects with your head, and the world goes black.

—--

When you wake up, it’s to the fire alarm blaring and the sprinklers going, soaking everything and everyone..

Wade, or Deadpool, you guess, did not kill the guy he was after. He did maim him though (he is missing a leg now), and then seemingly for funises, set a vase of roses on fire in the guy’s bedroom. 

Because of this, your clothes are still soggy by the time you make it home, and you curse up a storm as you peel yourself out of them, a headache forming.

Fucking Deadpool.

Fucking Wade.

(Part 5)

[hazbinwhoree]

Could you do Adam x reader headcanons and how he is around his band?

Love your writing btw, makes me happy everytime I see you post :DDD

Adam x Reader Headcanons

SFW

Adam does his absolute best to be a good boyfriend

His biggest fear is losing you like he lost Lilith and Eve

Can’t stand the idea of being alone again

Possessive, he loves showing you off and letting people know who you belong to

He does this mostly through hickeys and PDA

Touchy as fuck

This man is so touch starved, he’s on you every minute he can be

Holding hands, an arm around your waist, an elbow mockingly resting on top of your head (he’s massive), doesn’t matter

As long as you’re touching in some way

He’s the big spoon but he does like to lay on you and have you hold him from time to time

His bandmates constantly tease him about you

Cause he’s such a simp for you

Sometimes, his drummer will flirt with you to piss him off and it always leads to Adam dragging you off somewhere to have angry sex

Dedicates songs to you on stage during their shows

Completely ignores his groupies after every show, heading straight to you

His band and most people in general actually really like you two together

Adam is much more tolerable when he’s around you

His groupies don’t like you, but the rest of the band is grateful they have more of a chance to get some now

Whenever Sera needs to put Adam in line, she threatens to tell you about his behavior

That always checks him immediately

He said “I love you” first

Heavy attachment issues, you’re almost always together

NSFW

So vulgar during sex

Loves to talk during it (a yapper both in every day life and in sex)

Is good at dirty talk though so you don’t mind

Your favorite, however, is when he talks you through it and praises you

Gives the best head

Like seriously, I’m talking legs shaking, unable to walk afterwards kind of good

He has long fingers and a long tongue which always works in your favor

Refuses to sub, has to have complete control in the bedroom

With hookups, he always focused on his own pleasure, but with you, he’s a giver

Makes sure you cum first 90% of the time

His favorite position is missionary so he can look at you

Eye contact goes crazy

He loves making you maintain eye contact while he fucks you

It’s intimate for him

He’s 50/50 when it comes to pace

Sometimes he likes to be rough and fast

Other times he likes to be slow and intimate, makes love

Always cums inside of you

Like, always

You can’t think of a time he didn’t

Tits over ass, another reason he likes missionary

He also likes when you ride him sitting up

Fucks you standing up a lot, holding you, just to show off your size difference

Sex drive through the roof, you have sex at least once a day

Keeps a folder of naughty pictures of you to jerk off to on the rare occasions he doesn’t have access to you

Will still have sex with you even if you’re on your period

He’s that guy

Fucks with his mask on as often as he fucks with it off

When he wears his mask he loves when you hold onto the horns, and when he doesn’t wear the mask he loves when you tangle your fingers in his hair

Loves when you leave scratch marks on his back

He leaves hickeys, you leave scratch marks

[anzulvr]

can you do a karma x reader but Korosensei just follows them around or he embarrasses Karma 🎀

Karma x Reader, where Korosensei embarrasses you both. Sorry for late replies as always & THANKS ALOT FOR REQUESTING THIS!! TELL ME IF U SEE TYPOS!!

— Korosensei has a lot of spare time on his hands tentacles. He can complete tasks that would take a regular person hours in a matter of seconds.

Which is why he often shoves his nose in other people’s business. He needs some way to keep himself entertained!

Unfortunately for him no matter how much he tries to set his students up together, none of them seem to make a move on their own accord!

Korosensei is 90% of the reason you and Karma are together.

You were too nervous to be honest about your feelings, confessing was out of the question.

Karma, he considered asking you out a few times but being inexperienced with romance (or any sort of affection ranging from friendships to his family life) , he didn’t know how to go about springing his emotions on you.

He planned it out himself a few times; ‘What am I supposed to do after I confess? High-five? Maybe a hug, nah I’m not a hug person.’

Karmas love language is mentally draining the people he likes, which is why he’s not the type to prepare huge romantic gestures all on his own.

He prefers pissing you off until you want to punch him. (He thinks it’s funny when you miss.)

Or getting his ears pulled when he’s saying something stupid and you’re trying to shut him up.

Korosensei knows you two won’t get anywhere without a push, he’s very observant with his students, he decided he could give you two the encouragement you needed.

Honestly what better self appointed wing man is there? Korosensei can pretty much make anything happen with his abilities! He does everything behind you and Karmas backs. He gets the students and his colleagues involved at times.

Karasuma has spoken against it, might’ve said something along the lines of “Stop poking your head into your students private lives.” But what would he know? Romance has to be pursued! Everyone knows if you can’t follow your heart Korosensei will follow it for you.

He can make the most random, insignificant moments about you two.

“Korosensei, do you have an eraser you could let me have?”

“Unfortunately I’m all out [Name]. Karma has plenty erasers you should ask him!”

Karma looks confused, his only eraser got stolen by Terasaka around 20 minutes ago when he asked to borrow it and never gave it back.

“I don’t? Terasaka has mine.”

“Nufufufu… check again!”

Within a second after you asked, Korosensei flew around the class and replaced everything in Karmas backpack with erasers.

Karma opens his backpack and erasers are the only thing in his backpack, he chucks a few at his teacher before giving you one.

Korosensei finds a way to preform extravagant romantic gestures on Karmas behalf.

That wouldn’t be so bad if Korosensei wasn’t so extra.

With his powers, he struggles not to get carried away with all the cool stunts he can pull!

Cue to him finding a way to write your names together in the sky (Like a sky writer) WITHOUT the airplane. Because he could probably find a way to do it himself. He’s faster than a plane and has nicer writing anyway.

As a teacher he can’t afford to hire [your Favorite music artist] to serenade you two. (Mostly because he’s horrible at budgeting and partly because Karma steals from him once in a while.) Any normal person would give up and maybe rent a boombox.

Korosensei doesn’t give in that easily, which is why he dressed up as the lead singer.

(imagine like his Karasuma Costume sort of situation) He had the rest of E class involved in the production.

Mimura on air guitar😭.

There’d be food catering and everything. The catering is Isogai who’s perfect for the job as he has experience and Maehara who keeps eating from the plates. (He gets fired and replaced with Meg.)

You and Karma both are pretty used to it at this point so it’s turned into something you poke fun at together. Free food is free food.

The most ironic thing is, Korosensei had nothing to do with the day you both started dating.

It was during the island trip when the guys were talking about the girls they like, when asked Karma said that he’d have to go with Okuda because she’s good at chemistry and she’d be helpful with his pranks.

You overheard as you were walking past the room, it made your heart ache. The following days he’d gotten the impression you were mad at him, but couldn’t figure out what he did to upset you. You distanced yourself out of hurt, feeling like he’d been leading you on this entire time. Eventually he pried it out of you (he’s annoyingly persistent not to mention really good at convincing you to go along with whatever he wants.) In this conversation he admits, he wasn’t being serious with his answer towards the guys, that she makes a good friend but he doesn’t like Okuda in that way. He tells you he can make it up to you if you agree to go out with him. Once you agree he goes in for an high-five like he had planned earlier, but you go in for a hug instead. He reciprocates after the initial surprise wears off. Maybe he is a hug person.

[slasherscream]

I love your writing! And you just get my craziness and character obsessions. I was thinking what would happen if reader had a bruise cheek or lip, and refuse to tell them what happen. Then they discover that the reader was the one who beat the shit out of someone for saying something about their partner, and how proud yet pissed off they will be. I’m think Crazy Ass Girls Gang, need more possessive and protective FMC. Thank you!

warnings: yandere behavior - YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED

Tiffany Valentine - Tricks you into thinking she’s gonna be normal about it. She purses her lips when you won’t tell her anything, but quietly rushes off to get the first-aid kit. WATCH OUT! You have just activated a trap card: emotional manipulation. Her most powerful weapon. She’ll silently and dotingly take care of you. Disinfectant. Gentle Hands. Careful bandaging. Petulant silence. Painkillers lovingly dropped in your hand. Big sad eyes staring up at you. When you inevitably break and tell her what happened she could melt! She does melt, straight into your arms. You’re gonna be covered in lipstick by the time she’s through with you. Her hero. Don’t worry, she’ll help you clean up… eventually. Later, you’ll have to help her clean up too. It was so romantic of you to fight for her honor…. But she'd never let someone live after they hurt you, silly.

Jordan Li - Won’t drop the line of questioning until you’re damn near ready to fight her too. She hates that you’re hurt. She loves that you wanted to defend her. Jordan gets a lot of criticism, sometimes it seems never ending. The fact that you feel so strongly about protecting her, not because you think she can’t fight her own battles… but because she shouldn’t have to do it all alone? It means a lot. Still, she doesn’t want you getting into fights. Let alone fights over her. It doesn’t matter how badly you hurt the other person. If there are marks on you Jordan is going to go find them for round two. “You like to put hands on people?” Words spoken seconds before disaster (she’s ignoring the fact that you started the fight. Jordan could give a shit about semantics.)

Nancy Downs - Don’t wanna tell her? Cool! Get ready to experience her favorite couple’s activity besides shoplifting: abusing your coven bond to read your mind! Hooray! It will hurt badly. Because Nancy always makes it hurt when you keep her out on purpose, or hide things from her (or when she thinks you’re doing that.) But don’t worry, after she realizes how sweet you really were, she’ll make you feel all better. Cooing over you as much as she ever allows herself to coo. Cleaning your cuts. Healing you with her magic. Trying to ease the fever that always comes whenever she uses your bond in a way she shouldn’t. She thinks you’re the stupidest, sweetest thing. You’re witches. You don’t have to use your fists anymore to win fights. She leaves you with the coven and goes to enact a witch’s vengeance on whoever dared to lay a finger on you. 

Jennifer Check - You’ll try not to tell her but she immediately starts making such wild accusations you have to just come out and admit to why you’re injured. “I can smell someone on you. If you wanted to get beat up to get your rocks off you should’ve just told me, I’d happily beat the shit out of you.” Start talking quickly! She looks like she’s about to start fulfilling that nonexistent wish now. Once you tell her she has to suppress a smile. She’s a demon. She doesn’t need you playing knight in shining armor over what some jealous, mouth-breathing, loser is saying about her… but, it’s kinda hot that you did. She’ll show you just how hot she thinks it is. Then you two are gonna take a nice little drive, and you’re gonna point out the jackass who put bruises on you. She’ll fuck you again after she’s full. “Thanks for finding my next meal, baby.” 

Victoria Neuman - Victoria expects you to have better self control than this. Not telling her what happened isn’t an option. Ever. The look on her face when you first try and insist that nothing happened is enough for you to quietly admit you got into a fight. Her blood pressure sky-rockets. You two have an image to maintain. You’re her spouse. She has enough problems as it is. She’s thinking of viral videos, nightly news, seedy gossip magazines doing think-pieces: do we really want this person standing behind the president as first spouse? When you tell her you fought one of the Boys for trying to convince you she’s a monster? Well…. She goes a little softer. Victoria will pull you into the circle of her arms and thank you for being so loyal to her. She means it from the bottom of her heart. She’s also dreaming of the day she can pop their fucking heads. Touching you. Talking to you. Trying to turn you against her… they’ve crossed her last line. 

Carrie White - The moment she sees you she’s in hysterics: “Oh, Angel, what happened?!” You’re really gonna sit there and not tell her anything? She’s worked herself into an anxiety attack within seconds. She can hardly open the first aid kit, she’s shaking so bad. The sound of your voice is always so soothing for her that you’ll start telling her the story just to have something to say. She listens quietly while she cleans you up. You’ll have to pull her into your lap before long, and kiss her gently. You’re all she has in the world and it scares her to death to think of you putting yourself in unnecessary danger. You’ll fall asleep curled into each other’s arms. You whisper soft reassurances: “Nothing’s gonna happen to me / I’ll always be here.” Carrie tries her best to listen. You’ll wake up alone, but wander downstairs just as Carrie walks through the front door. She wanted to get her knight in shining armor some breakfast from your favorite diner down the street. She watches you eat with a big smile, and thinks about how she’ll have to burn those clothes in the trunk of the car. She couldn't risk them trying to hurt you again.

Ginger Fitzgerald - Don’t piss her off. If you don’t tell her exactly who touched you she’ll rip the entire city apart. Women, children, men, everyone. Anyone. “Do you want me to do that? Huh, baby? Is that what you want me to do?” No? Then start talking. She won’t be able to see through the blood-lust long enough to take care of you. As soon as you say a name Ginger’s out the door. She’ll only return once she’s thoroughly covered in viscera and gore. She’s still dripping with it when she crawls into bed with you, smearing the blood across your body. She’ll lick at any injury you have, until they’re clean and closed, your skin smooth and unblemished. She’s the only thing that can leave marks on you. She’ll kill anything else that tries. “You don’t have to lift a finger for me, baby. If you want someone hurt, I’ll do it. I’ll do anything for you.” Just run your fingers through her hair and try not to cringe as your fingertips get stained red. 

Patricia (Split) - She’s devastated by the state you come home in after she allows you to go out on a walk all by yourself for the first time since you were…. taken. You’d been so good for her. So obedient. So sweet. She wanted to reward you. And now your eye is starting to bruise, and your clothes are all askew, and your knuckles are swollen. Her calm demeanor cracks, and it’s a struggle to stay in the light. She takes deep breaths, centers herself. None of the others are what you need, right now. You need her. She strips you down, runs you a bath, won’t even let you hold the washcloth. It’s only as she’s patting you dry that she can force out words, finally: “What happened to you, sweet thing, hmm?” The guilt nearly brings her to tears. Months of keeping you close and look at what just a pinch of negligence has done to you… You try to assuage her guilt. You tell her you ran into a neighbor, who’d seen the two of you out together once Patricia trusted you enough to accompany her for little things like grocery trips. You say it’s your fault you came back to her in this condition. That you just couldn’t stand the vile things they said about her. Her face drops into an expression you’ve never seen. It’s gone in an instant, replaced by that comforting, ever present smile she wears for you. She takes you by the chin and kisses your forehead: “My little sweet thing. Playing knight, are you?” You had her love before. Tentatively, you had something like trust. Now Patricia trusts you completely. Even so, you won’t be going out alone again. Patricia trusts you. But it’s clear she can’t trust the world to be gentle with you. Don’t worry, though. All you need to do is ask, when you want to feel the sun on your face. You never see that neighbor again, no matter what time of day you and Patricia go walking.

A/N: thank you!!! we need more batshit crazy women with something wrong with them! Batshit crazy women with something wrong with them unite! if you enjoyed these headcanons consider reblogging, leaving a reply, or an anon! a writer's fuel is engagement. Xoxoxo