#i have plenty of other characters you can imprint on.

[snekdood]

ik i said a week ago or somethin that "im sorry mj isnt non binary" but honestly thats not fully true. she is nb in her own ways- i just dont want ppl to take that and then modify her to be fully gnc and more masc than she is like someone i know has 😒

[sometimesanalice]

Give Me Your Hand {Here Is My Heart}

Summary: You and Bradley have been dating for a couple months now. You want him and he wants you. And it’s getting harder and harder to keep your hands off of him. So what is holding you back?

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Female Reader

Length: 9K

Warnings: Fluff, Pining, and Smuttt

(This will be a 2-Part series for characters in the “Like I Can” Universe. It can be read without reading the original series first.)  PART 2

You’ve seen Bradley’s thick, wavy hair in various stages throughout your life. He has a little cowlick tuft in the back that would always pop up if it was cut too short. You’d seen it in high school when he used a little too much product like most boys did at that age. You’d seen it smashed and sweaty from being trapped under a baseball cap for too long.

However, for all the ways you’ve seen it over the years, his hair mussed by your own hands is easily one of your very favorite looks on him.

There is an open bottle of some random red blend you had picked up from the grocery store on the table, you had been more drawn to the label than what was inside of it. Your glasses were mostly untouched, the only clue about whose belonged to who was the imprint of your lower lip left behind on the rim from your lipstick that’s long worn off from your mouth.

And you are straddling Bradley’s denim clad lap enthusiastically making out on his probably-from-Ikea-but-still-very comfortable dark gray couch. The short skirt of your flirty little ruffled red dress sliding higher and higher up your thighs with every movement.

Your hands are undoing what minimal styling he had done to it before you had gotten to his place that evening, while his large ones are everywhere. Traveling the length of your back, squeezing your hips, running over the outsides of your calves. 

It has been almost a couple of months since you had been set up by the Daggers on those truly terrible dates. At the time it seemed like a fun idea to go on all those blind dates, until it wasn’t. 

That is, until Bradley. Being with him had made it all worthwhile. 

There have been plenty of dates since then. Nights out. Nights in. Nights spent laughing at the Hard Deck with his friends. But they all end the same. With Bradley kissing you goodnight. 

In the Bronco.

At your door. 

At his. 

You haven’t stayed the night, not once. Not even after the time where you both fell asleep tangled on his couch. You had woken up it find it was nearly 3 A.M, and even then you still made it a point not to cross the threshold into his bedroom. Even though you wanted to.

The way his mouth is moving against yours is nothing short of sinful. He is so good at making you breathless. So good at making you blush. Having him like this is more than you ever thought you’d get, its deliciously thrilling being the one to pull the low moans and satisfied sighs from him. 

It is almost too easy with Bradley. You’d never let yourself think about forever at this point in a relationship with anyone else. He made it so difficult for you to keep your head on straight when he looked at you with such dizzying adoration. 

It was getting harder and harder not let yourself think about Bradley being the one for all of your last-firsts. Even as you tried to take things with him day by day, moment by moment.

How that evening out on the outdoor terrace could have been your last-first date. That pretty green dress you’d worn, now tucked away in your closet protected in its garment bag, felt special in a way you weren’t sure you were ready to look at too closely.

How that kiss against his Bronco in the parking lot near the beach afterwards could have been your last-first kiss.

How whenever you mustered up the courage to finally give yourself to him entirely that it could be your last-first time.

But one of you had to be the practical one. One of you has to keep their feet on the ground because the other literally as his head in the clouds on a daily basis. You felt constantly at war with bullet pointed logic of your mind and the whatifwhatifwhatifs of your heart.

When Bradley dropped you off back at your car after your post-oceanside-dinner-milkshake-run, he asked you out again for the next weekend. Claimed he wanted you to have a second first date with him, even though you both already were planning on meeting your friends at the Hard Deck the very next night. 

His smile had been so sweet and his eyes so sincere there was no way you were going to turn him down. Even if you didn’t think you needed a second first date with him when the first had been one for the books. 

Bradley’s burning lips work their way down your neck. His hand at the base of your neck keeping you exactly where he wanted you. The delicious drag of his mustache along the sensitive skin of your throat makes your toes curl. His hot mouth sucking softly at your pulse point before laving it with his tongue. Can he feel how fast your heart is beating?

For your second-first date, the only feeling that had been coursing through you that day had been pure excitement knowing it would be Bradley knocking on your door. 

And when he picked you up, he arrived with a bouquet of your favorite flowers in one hand and a bottle of your favorite champagne in the other.

There was an undeniable giddiness that evening, but also a tentative shyness between the two of you as you sat across from each other at one of the many seafood restaurants that dotted the boardwalk. The table had felt almost too big, since the two of you were both a little too in your heads. 

“Why did it feel easier last time-”

“I feel like I’m on an interview-”

After a couple awkward stops and starts, you both just looked at each other and had to laugh about it. It was better when you moved your place settings and slid into the spot next to him. When his leg nervously bounced under the table, you were close enough to rest a hand on his thigh. 

“Have I told you how pretty you look?”

“Only a few times now,” you replied as you nudged his foot with yours, “But I like hearing it.”

And then slowly but surely the nerves and awkwardness melted away as you two settled into the familiarity of each other. You did call him “Rooster” a couple times on accident, and he ended up almost telling you the same story twice before he realized it halfway through the second time. But it was a comfortable kind of bumbling as you explored the newness of this part of your relationship together.  

Afterwards, he had suggested taking a walk along the beach, you’d readily agreed at the thought of the sand beneath your toes and your fingers tangled between Bradley’s.

You didn’t walk very far before a large canopy made entirely out of thousands of string lights caught your eye. The area was roped off on the beach halfway between the boardwalk and the ocean waves. People were already milling about, some brave souls already dancing away as the final rays from the sunset illuminated them in a golden red light. 

“C’mon, kid,” he’d said already tugging you along with him by the hand, “Let’s check it out.”

“Bradley, I don’t know. This looks like some kind of private event.”

It didn’t click until he was pulling out his phone with the tickets already pulled up and ready to be scanned that he had planned it all along. 

“I’ve always wanted to go to one of these,” you told him with a grin on your face as you waited in the line to exchange your shoes for a pair of light up headphones.

“Have you now?” He was looking very pleased with himself as he slid an arm around you, tucking his hand into the back pocket of your jeans.

“I thought you said you were done with surprises,” you asked teasingly, smoothing down the front of his Hawaiian shirt. Enjoying the way his stomach tensed beneath your hand. 

“Now, where the fun in that? I think I like surprising you,” he murmured into your ear.

When you made your way to the front, he slipped the headphones over your ears before pulling you to the side, bending down to roll up your jeans a bit and then doing the same to his. 

The sand was still warm for the sun under your feet, and the twinkle lights were picking up the golden strands in Bradley’s wavy hair. He was so handsome and he was all yours tonight.

The two of you had the best time as you bounced around between stations, the colors on your headphones changing from blue to red to green as you told the other one to change over whenever a familiar song came on as the inky night settled around you.

You had danced with Bradley plenty of times of the years, like at school dances and at your mom’s second wedding. However, it was always the goofy and fun kind of dancing between friends. Where he would spin you until you were doubled over in laughter or where you’d compete to see who could pull out the most ridiculous moves.  

His fancy footwork and carefree exuberance still amused you to no end, but it was also the good kind of different the way he wrapped his arms around you from behind. You’d felt a good kind of free in the way you let your hips move against him without overthinking it. It was the good kind of exciting the way he feathered kisses down the side of your neck when the music playing through the headphones slowed down.

The two of you moving in sync and touching each other in ways you haven’t indulged in before, a little sweaty and out of breath. You had never felt so truly lighthearted and uninhibited as you did as you danced the night away with Bradley, as he shimmied with you, as he twirled you about, as he held you close. 

By the end of the evening, your cheeks were hurting from the wide smile that hadn’t left your face once the whole night. 

And there was no hesitation in the way you pulled his face to yours as people danced around lost in their own moments on the beach under the twinkle lights and moonlight that night. As you got lost in him.

The rough denim of his jeans between the soft skin of your thighs has you desperate to move against him for more. His fingers are playing with the frilly chiffon fabric of the red dress you bought forever ago and completely forgot about in your closet. You wanted to be as bold as the color you were wearing, to take the lead and slide his hands up your dress to where you both really wanted them to be. Instead you trail your lips long the strong line of his jaw, reveling in the way he sighs your name.

The next date you had planned. 

And the only thing you had told him about it was what time he should expect to be picked up. 

At the time he’d grumbled something about his mom raising him as a gentleman and that meant always picking the girl up. To which, you had retorted that Carole told you not to take nonsense from any man, and that included her son. Phoenix had clicked her glass with yours at that.

Bradley was notoriously bad a keeping a secret, excluding when he had planned that first date, but he was even worse when he was the one being kept in the dark. Needless, to say you thoroughly enjoyed teasing him that whole week before your next date.

And if he ran his hands more over your body as he tried to get you to give him even the smallest of hints, you couldn’t say you minded. 

You’d stopped by his favorite deli on you way home from work and ordered a couple of those giant sandwiches that were piled high with all the cold cuts and too many toppings, along with a few containers of different sides to round out the meal. Your fridge had been stocked his favorite beer from your last grocery run, so you’d grabbed a few cans of those and some sparkling waters and put those in your cooler basket with the other sweet treats you had already bought before you’d quickly changed and left to go pick him up.

You’d barely had the car parked in his driveway of his condo before he was opening the door and throwing his large body in your car.

“It’s not too late to let me drive, kid,” he’d said in greeting, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You really liked this part, the casual physicality of his affection. You liked it a lot.

“Oh please, you just want me to tell you what we’re doing,” you countered, as you backed up and pulled on to the main road. “Plus, I don’t see what your problem is. I drive you around all the time when the Bronco is getting a tune up.”

“Yeah, but only when it’s in the shop. I am physically pained to be in a Honda Civic,” he complained, as he shifted from side to side and moved the seat back trying to get more comfortable. Ever the drama queen.

“Hey, it’s a hybrid! I’m saving the planet,” you lobbed back at him, “How much fuel does your F/A-18 go through?” 

“It’s boring.” There was no missing the derision dripping from the word.

Such a little car snob.

“I think you mean it’s practical,” you replied primly. “I’m not going to apologize for having a car from this century, Bradley.”

“Is it even safe to be this close to the ground?” he groused as he looked at you from over the top of his sunglasses. 

“Well, my lease on this is up soon and I have been thinking about getting an all-American whip,” you paused for a moment as he perked up at the idea of that, “Do you think I would look cute in a Jeep?”

The taunt landed just the way you hoped it would when he groaned and clutched his heart.

“My girl is not driving a Jeep. That’d be like sleeping with the enemy!” he dramatically bemoaned, “The Bronco would stall out of spite knowing you’re driving the competition.”

You hoped he didn’t catch the way you’d clamed up. How your hands had tightened on the steering wheel, knuckles standing out in contrast against the paper-thin skin there.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t slept with someone on the first date before. And while you knew it was a matter of when and not if, you were still having a hard time wrapping your brain around the fact that you would be having sex with Bradley Bradshaw.

But there was fucking and then there was whatever this was. 

It already felt different with him than anyone else you’ve dated before. It felt like it would mean more with him and you couldn’t pretend you weren’t anxious about it.

This was Bradley.

Bradley.

Who had always made it to your tennis matches wearing the t-shirt he had made that boldly sported your last name across his chest after you had complained that the boys’ teams always better funding and therefore got better apparel. He was always the loudest person in the stands, except for your moms when they overdid it on the Sauvignon Blanc.

Bradley.

Who had always sent you your favorite kind of flowers to be delivered on your birthday and never failed to FaceTime with you regardless of where he was in the world or what time it was where he was stationed.

Bradley who was looking so handsome next to you in your practical Honda Civic wearing a snug light blue button up shirt and smelling really good. Woodsy with the tiniest hint of citrus.

With his tousled sun-lightened curls and warm brown eyes. His strong, sturdy nose. That mustache that had no right to look so perfect on his face. You’d liked every version of him you’d know throughout your life, but this one next to you? You lo--

“Light’s green, sweet girl.” He was wearing that little half smirk of his. The one that was entirely too knowing, and that looked entirely too good on him.

You had blinked at him a few times before you had realized you’d been completely caught checking him out. And it wasn’t until the car behind you honked that you were startled out of your Bradley filled mental wanderings.

Thankfully you were saved from further jokes at you or your car’s expense as you pulled into the parking lot of the library, happy for the distraction from your earlier thoughts.

“Do you have some books you need to return?” he asked a bit perplexed, his eyebrow knitting together. 

“Nope,” you answered. Sending him a smug wink as you reached over to click the button to unbuckle his seatbelt. 

He wasn’t the only one who could plan a surprise in this relationship. 

And in the midst of your self-satisfied musings, you had somehow missed the way he had rounded the car until his big hands were on your waist. Then he was turning you around and crowding you against the side of your very practical car.

“This ok?” he rasped questioningly against your ear, stroking your side.

You nodded rapidly. All words had escaped you the second he had pressed his broad, hard body against yours.

It was a miracle you didn’t drop the basket in your hands when his mouth collided with yours, his lips leisurely gliding over yours. You were still getting use to the sensation of his rough mustache on your delicate skin, but you liked the feel of it. 

You liked everything about him.

He pulled away after a few moments, nudging your cheek with his nose, “Hey, you good?”

There was a moment when you thought that maybe he had noticed the way you’d froze in the car when he had made that joke. He knew you so well, but even that felt like a stretch.

“Just peachy,” you replied, as you leaned in for another quick peck. But just as you tried to pull away, he tugged you back in.

“’m not done kissing you yet.”

“Bradley, come on,” you laugh breathlessly, the grin on your face derailing any further plans he had for your mouth. 

“Or, hear me out,” he mused, as he trailed a finger down your arm, until he reached your hand to take the basket from you, “We can make out against your car. Seeing as we’re already very good at that.”

“Nuh-uh.” You shake your head at him. “There will be no more making out.”

“At all?” he coaxed. His thumb sneaking under your top, stroking the skin above your hip.

“For the next couple of hours,” you amended. “Are you going to be trouble?”

“Only the good kind, I promise.” He was wearing that cheeky smile that always left you feeling a little flustered. Threading your fingers together with his free hand, he gestured for you to lead the way. 

You pulled him along with you as you followed the other groups of people who were making their way the same direction around to the back of the library where the large section of grassy lawn was located. 

“Last chance, you sure you don’t want to go make out in the stacks?” he teased as you passed by the entrance, giving you a heated once over, “You always were such a good girl in school, Miss Valedictorian.”

It made your cheeks warm at both the idea of him pressing you against the shelves and from him calling you a good girl. And you were almost tempted to let him have his way. To let him pull you out of the line you were waiting in in favor of finding out what his mouth tasted like in some quiet, dusty corner of the library. 

“Behave, this is an all ages event,” you reminded him, and yourself. He held up his three fingers in Scout’s promise. But you knew better, recognized what that smirk he was wearing meant, so you met him half way, “If you’re good, maybe we can do that for our third date.”

You had felt your pulse radiate through your whole body when he leaned in close and murmured, “I can be good for you.”

A pointed cough jolted you both out of the moment, you had been so wrapped up in him that you had completely missed that the line had moved. Muttering a sheepish Sorry, you tugged a shameless Bradley along with you to catch up with everyone else. 

When you made it to the front of the line, he tried to fish out his wallet before you could reach yours to pay the suggested entry donation fee. The volunteer chuckled as you tossed the blanket you were carrying at your troublesome date’s broad chest. And then you handed over the cash you had withdrawn from the ATM earlier in the day, plus a little more.

You were a patron of the literary arts, after all. A humanitarian with a point to prove. This was your date you had planned for Bradley, you would be the one sweeping him off his feet tonight.

The big screen they had set up gave it away, but you refused to tell him what movie was playing that evening even as he made guess after guess as you wove your way around people to find an unoccupied spot in the grass.

You kept him busy by having him smooth out the blanket until there were absolutely no wrinkles, and then distracted him with all of his favorite goodies as you unpacked them out of your cooler bag. Thankfully, it wasn’t too much longer before the event’s coordinator was welcoming everyone since you had run out of PG-rated ways to keep Bradley diverted without spoiling the evening’s featured film.

When the opening credits had started rolling for Singin’ in the Rain Bradley had turned to you, his wide grin lighting up his whole face. 

“I love this movie,” he said excitedly.

You smiled back at him indulgently, as if you didn’t already know that. However, you still had felt very pleased with yourself that he was so thrilled as you passed him one of the massive, overly filled sandwiches along with a beer. 

You had forgotten to pack some extra plates to put the sides on, so you and Bradley passed the containers of creamy potato salad, tangy coleslaw, and cold tomato salad back and forth. Occasionally feeding the other bites in between watching Gene Kelly and Donald O’Connor’s antics on screen. 

A little while later, the two of you had cozied up on the blanket, the leftover food pushed off to one side. Bradley had pulled you into the space between his legs, encouraging you to rest your back against his sturdy chest. You had never felt as perfectly content as you did sitting there wrapped up in his arms sharing a bag of gummy bears and the other boxes of movie candy you had packed as the warm California breeze washed over you.

You had been surrounded by families and other couples, but the way he rested his chin against your shoulder and hummed along with Gene Kelly singing “You Were Meant For Me” was for your ears only.

There isn’t anything in this world that feels as good as Bradley’s wet lips sliding over yours. Nothing as exciting as wondering where his hands will roam to next on your body. Nothing as devastating as when he teases down the strap of your dress off of your shoulder with his nose as his mouth purposefully works along your collarbone.

Ever the gentleman, he’s never pressured you, or even brought it up. You know he is waiting for you to make the move, to let you be the one who sets the pace. To let him know when you’re ready to take that next step with him.

And you want to. You really want to. Even now, you can feel how enticingly hard he is beneath you as you moan into his mouth. 

You know that you’re the one holding you back. 

The one holding the both of you back. 

And you know exactly why.

The closest you two even got to toeing that line into something more was the night you got back home after spending a few days on the East Coast for a work trip. 

Bradley had wanted to pick you up from the airport, but you were getting in late and didn’t want him to lose out on the sleep that he needed to stay safe doing his job. He only let it go once you had promised him you would text him when you landed and got home in one piece.

You had been getting ready for bed after showering off the plane from your body, slipping on an old shirt you had recently rediscovered buried in the back of your dresser when your phone had lit up. And you really shouldn’t have been surprised to see Bradley’s name on your screen well past 2 A.M, but your heart still fluttered seeing his name pop up.

“Yes, Bradley?” you answered with a playful lilt in your tone. 

“Hi, kid,” you could hear the soft smile in his voice, “Did you make it home ok?”

“I did, but what are you still doing awake? You’ve got that new training program that starts tomorrow, and roosters aren’t known for being nocturnal creatures.”

“She’s got jokes, ladies and gentlemen,” he deadpanned flatly before tentatively continuing, “You said you were going to text me when you landed. But my phone has been suspiciously silent.”

You didn’t know if that swooping sensation in your stomach had been from feeling like you’d let him down or from the fact that he was calling you this late because he was worried about you. That he had stayed up wanting to hear from you because you mattered to him. You that you were in his 2 A.M thoughts. 

“I figured you’d be asleep, and I didn’t want to bother you,” you admitted self-consciously as you puttered around you room, putting away a few of the things from your suitcase.

And it had been the truth. You had typed out a message when you were waiting in the ride share pick up area with your carry on, but ended up deleting it not wanting to bother him or disturb his sleep. 

“Nah, you’d never bother me. I was waiting to hear from you. Wouldn’t have been able to sleep anyways, not with you being flown around by some random pseudo-captain airline pilot wearing a pair of wings with a brand logo on it.”

The men you had dated in the past had always said the same thing without really meaning it, sending halfhearted thumbs up when you’d let them known you got home after a date or landed safely after a work trip. But Bradley wasn’t like those men, he truly meant the things he said because he cared.

“Not the branded wings,” you teased, before softly saying, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all good, sweet girl. I’m just happy you’re home. You free dinner tomorrow? I want to hear all about your trip.”

“For you? Yeah, I think I can clear my schedule.”

“Good,” he said contentedly before pausing for a moment, and you heard rustling on the other end of the line, “So, what are you wearing?”

You burst out laughing, as you finally crawled into your soft bed, grinning wildly, “Bradley Bradshaw, you did not just ask me that!”

“What?” he asked innocently, his chuckle giving him away. “How about this, you tell me and I promise to never bring up the fact that you have contributed to any prematurely gray hairs that might have sprung up in the last few hours.”

“A silver fox Bradley Bradshaw?” Now that was something you were very much looking forward to seeing one day, “Be still my heart.”

“Chances are you won’t have to wait long,” he joked.

“Well, it’s funny you should ask,” you mused as you look down at the threadbare shirt you had on, “Because I am currently wearing a very old Cardinals Baseball shirt.”

He had given it to you after they had won the State Championships his junior year as a thank you for all the time you had spent helping him practice after school and on the weekends leading up to the playoff games.

“You’re messing with me.”

“I would never joke about Washington High school pride.” He laughed at that, because really, when were you not teasing him?

When you didn’t say anything more he’d pressed, “Wait, seriously?”

“Mm-hmm,” you purred smugly, playing with the frayed hem of the shirt.

“I want to see it.”

“Are you asking me to send a photo of myself in bed after 2 A.M?” you asked with faux shock, “Sir, I am a lady.”

That made him snort, “There wasn’t anything ladylike about the way you took down that burger the other week. But seriously. You’ve got sixty seconds, kid. Otherwise I’m coming over there to see it for myself.”

Your breath had caught in your throat. His demand made your heart beat faster in your chest, the two of you had never done anything like this before. 

“Ok, ok. Give me a moment.” 

Working quickly knowing Bradley wasn’t one for idle threats, you positioned yourself where his shirt is clearly visible, but also featured a glimpse of the top of your thighs and a hint of the smirk on your lips. Satisfied you sent it off to him and put the phone back up to your ear.

“Holy shit,” he breathes out incredulously. You didn’t know if he meant to say it out loud or not, but you’d felt the heat work its way in your cheeks all the same.

“Come on then, Bradshaw. You’re up. Tit for tat as it was.”

“I didn’t realize tits were on the table,” he rasped lowly.

You were thankful he hadn’t made this a FaceTime call, so that he didn’t see the way your jaw dropped.

There was a thrumming working its way through your body. There wasn’t anything explicitly dirty happening, but it felt deliciously thrilling all the same. It was exciting doing this with him.

“Nuh-uh, rules are rules. You’ve got sixty seconds,” you tell him, trying to sound more in control than you felt.

A few moments later you see the notification pop down, and you click into the text. The first thing your mind registered was his skin. 

So much golden skin. 

He was leaning against his head board, navy comforter bunched around low on his waist. His hair was a little mussed, and his mouth was pulled to one side in a half-smirk. He was just so handsome, you could even see the fine trail of hairs that led to his---

“Goddammit, Bradley!” you’d exclaimed putting him on speaker, so you could still hear him without putting your phone back up to your ears since you were too busy staring at the picture he had just sent. “Are you kidding me? This is some serious one-handed fodder!” 

You could hear his booming laughter on the other side.

“Happy now?” You could hear how pleased he was with your reaction in his voice.

“Truly, the happiest. You have no idea,” you replied, albeit a distractedly, “But, full disclosure? I am going to be gazing at this so disrespectfully after we hang up.” You’ve never been so bold before, but everything about that moment had been electrifying with him. Because of him.

“Enjoy your one-handed fodder, kid. But full disclosure?” his voice was teasing as he used your own words against you, “You’d need to use both hands. I’m glad you’re home, I’ll see you tomorrow. Sweet dreams, sweet girl.”

He hung up on you without waiting for a response as you gaped into your home screen.

As images filled your head of what it would look like to have both of your hands wrapped the length of him, you let your fingers trail down your stomach and under the waistband of your underwear.

You had already lost a lot of sleep thinking about Bradley. Dreaming about how it would feel to be naked and pressed close along his body. He runs so warm normally, would he be even hotter to the touch as you both rocked against each other? You wanted to know the sounds he made when he came.

Too desperate to come to bother reaching for your vibrator, you had propped your phone against your spare pillow looking at that photo of him cozy and warm in his bed, and with your other hand you easily slid two fingers into yourself. Circling your clit with one hand as you worked yourself with the other.

You wanted his fingers. You wanted his mouth. You wanted his cock. You wanted all of him.

Closing your eyes, you let yourself think about Bradley. His molten brown eyes. His strong forearms. The tantalizing veins of his thick neck. The way his mustache feels against your mouth when you make out in his Bronco. The powerful grace in the way his body moved during a game of dogfight football.

You imagined him unreservedly and unabashedly. 

Above you. 

Below you. 

Behind you.

You came like a flash. Back arching as you spasmed against your own fingers while thinking about his.

And a few minutes later, just as your heart rate had settled back down and you were about to turn your light off, you got a text from him.

𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚛𝚎𝚗’𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚘𝚗𝚕𝚢 𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚘 𝚠𝚊𝚜 𝚐𝚊𝚣𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚍𝚒𝚜𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚙𝚎𝚌𝚝𝚏𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚝𝚘𝚗𝚒𝚐𝚑𝚝. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚕𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍 𝚒𝚗 𝚖𝚢 𝚜𝚑𝚒𝚛𝚝. 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚕𝚕𝚢 𝚐𝚘𝚘𝚍. 𝙸 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚖𝚢 𝚘𝚗𝚎-𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚍 𝚏𝚘𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘𝚘, 𝚔𝚒𝚍.

Which promptly had you tossing your phone away from you as you squealed into your pillow. 

It was so easy to lose yourself in his kiss, breathing in each other’s air. Your mouths are drawn together like magnets. His hands are high on your ribcage, his brave thumb caressing the underside of your breast. You are dizzy off of the feeling of his tongue stroking yours.

There is an earnest yearning in the way you both kiss each other. In the way you touch each other. It’s almost like you’re trying to make up for something. 

“I can feel you thinking, sweet girl,” he says a little breathlessly as he pulls away from your mouth. His lips are swollen and his hair is a wavy, brown mess. “Am I not going a good enough job over here?” 

You know he is teasing you, but you can tell that he is giving you the gentle opening to talk about what distracting thoughts are pulling you out of being in the moment with him.

“I was just thinking about when you picked me up in your old Montero for the first time. You were leaning against it like my very own Jake Ryan,” you tell him as you place kisses across his cheek.

Not exactly the truth, but you don’t want to ruin the mood by telling him what was really on your mind. Not when you wanted to make him feel just as good as he was making you feel.

“I loved that car,” he moans lightly as you kiss along his jaw, his hands sliding up your back.

“I know,” you hum against his ear, “You didn’t talk to me for like a week when I spilled my milkshake in it that one time.”

“I should have kept that car, she was a classic,” he sighs as he leans his head against the back of the couch to look up at you. His hands skimming up and down the sides of your waist, still hard beneath you.

“You know, my parents still think I was some kind of manual stick-shifting wunderkind,” you tell him grinning down at him. Your thumb tracing the long scar there under his Adam’s apple.

“Yeah, I probably shouldn’t have taught you how to how to drive when you were fourteen,” he says with fondness. The grin on his gorgeous face nothing short of sheepish, “Your mom can never know. I still want her to like me.”

You smile briefly thinking about him teaching you in the afternoons after school when neither of you had practices to attend in the abandoned parking lot across town. 

How he had patiently taught you how to shift from neutral into first even after stalling out multiple times in a row. He had done his best to hid his wincing from you when you inevitably managed to grind the gears because he didn’t want you to feel bad about it. You can still remember how loudly he whooped for you when you managed to start it and get it moving in one go. Afterwards, he had taken you to the ice cream place to celebrate, that time with him in the driver’s seat. 

When you had finally gotten your learner’s permit your parents had called you a natural. And you had immediately known that there was no way you were ever going to tell them you’d learned from Bradley. That was a secret just for the two of you.

“You know,” you muse toying with button on his shirt, “Sixteen-year-old me would probably be losing her mind knowing that I get to make out with you anytime I want.”

“Huh, that so?” he smirks, a hand coming up to play with the ends of your hair, “Did you have a crush on me, kid?”

For the most part, before getting together you had been good about keeping your feelings for Bradley purely platonic. Except for a couple of slip ups here and there over the years, like that time at the Hard Deck after seeing the team play dogfight football for the first time. But that was another secret that you were never going to give up easily. 

Your friendship with him had always meant more to you than anything else.

“Mm, I wouldn’t call it a crush. What I had was a lot of hormones, and it didn’t help that you were pretty.” 

He had always been cute, even as a gangly teen whose arms and legs never seemed to be in sync, but the man looking up at you now was in a league of his own. His warm brown eyes were slightly hooded filled with mischief and something more.

“And now?” Bradley asks teasingly, his other smoothing up your back to press you closer. He leans forward to kiss the spot where your neck met your shoulder.

“Now?” you breathe out, as his mouth moves up along your neck, “Now I still have a lot of hormones, think you’re very handsome, and definitely have a crush on you.”

“Good,” he murmurs as his teeth graze your jaw.

“What about you?” you gasp, melting into him further. You want to keep him talking, so you don’t think about how you want his mouth on other places. He is so hard, so warm, and you want him so bad. 

But for as much as you wanted to strip off your clothes and his to let him have his way with you, it was the last boundary between being just friends and this. It wasn’t something that could ever be undone. And you wanted it so bad, it scared you just how much you wanted that kind of permanence with him.

It’s been almost two months and you’ve had him for years, but you want him like this forever.

“Yeah, there’s been a few times when I’ve caught myself thinking about you in less than friendly ways. You’re gorgeous, and smart, and funny,” He squeezes your waist, before admitting, “Always felt guilty when it happened though.”

He had thought of you too. 

Why did that make your chest hurt? Could you have been doing this for years?

“Tell me,” you quietly urge, running your fingers through his hair encouragingly, “I want to know.” 

You were desperate to know.

“Do you remember that house party we went to that Spring Break you visited me during my senior year at UVA?” he asks, letting his hands lightly trail up and down the tops of your thighs. 

You could have been doing this for years.

You didn’t trust your voice not to wobble and betray you, so you nodded your head instead.

“I had gone in to get us a couple more drinks, and when I came back out there were so many more people in the backyard than there were when I left. I mean, I was probably a little drunk, but it was packed,” he told you as his thumb rubbed small circles near your inner knee, “I remember looking for you when I got distracted by a great set of legs in pair of frayed denim shorts. And as I was working out how I was going to play it as I made my way over to her, she turned around.”

It wasn’t a secret where this was going. You knew what the ending would be before he even started telling you the story. Yet, you were still hanging on his every word with bated breath.

“You turned around. Couldn’t believe I didn’t recognize you in that moment. And the way you smiled at me,” he reaches up and cups your cheek, his thumb lightly tapping on the spot where your dimples lived, “God, I still remember, it hit me like a suckerpunch. Your hair looked so pretty under the string lights they had put up.”

“They were the shitty red and green Christmas kind,” you whisper. 

You remembered that party, it was one of the last times you got to spend uninterrupted one-on-one time with him before he joined the Navy. Before your friendship turned into a long-distance game of catching up and phone tag.

“They were and probably a fire hazard too,” he confirms softly with a chuckle, reaching up to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear as you gaze at each other. “I felt so bad afterwards that I had been checking you out. Like I was taking advantage of our friendship somehow.”

This was a new kind of openness between the two of you in this little moment of transparent honesty. A reminder for how well you know each other that there are still new things to learn. 

“I remember when you picked me up from the airport, I think it was like the first time we’d seen each other in person in almost a year. And I had this moment when I saw you waiting for me that realized that the boy I had grown up with was very much a man,” you sit back a bit to better look at him, his cheeks were still flushed from earlier. “But god, Bradley, now? Now, you’re devastating.” 

You wanted him to have these parts of you, to fill him in on the things he didn’t know, the things you kept close to your heart. It was your story, but it belonged to him too.

“C’mere,” he murmurs as he wraps his hand around the back of your neck pulling you back into him. Your mouths are a whisper away from each other as you share the same air, and he is looking at you with such open want, “I didn’t realize until recently how much time I spent trying not to think about you like that when you first moved here. And now that I can, you’re the only thing that’s been on my mind. You’re so fucking distracting, sweet girl.”

If you thought you were needy before, now you felt like you’re going to vibrate out of your skin if you didn’t get your mouth back on his right that very second. 

He meets you half way for a desperate kiss. It’s hungry and open-mouthed. You come alive under his touch, his kiss energizes you in a way that no drug or stimulant ever could.

Your hasty, frantic hands landing everywhere. Never content to linger in one place for long. Not when you have so much of his body you are dying to map with your hands. With your mouth. You want to touch him everywhere. You want to taste him everywhere.

You nibble on the fullness of his lower lip, seeking entrance into his warm mouth. He opens for you without hesitation, his tongue ready and waiting to welcome yours. You can still taste the juicy, full-bodied red on him from that long-forgotten bottle of wine.

He says your name on shattered breath, pulling away only long enough to place wet, hot kisses down your neck, down your chest. Your hands are buried in his hair, clutching at his sunkissed waves.

“This damn bow,” he rasps as he roughly pulls at the little bow at the center of your flirty red dress as if it has personally offended him by its very existence. Once untied it reveals a bit more of the swell of your breasts to his eager eyes. 

Your skin feels almost a size too small for your body, and your throat is tight with want. His kisses were like champagne going straight to your head. His hands are the only thing you want touching you.

You don’t mean to let your hips rock against the firm swell of him, but his resounding groan is quite possibly the hottest thing you’ve ever heard in your life. And you know in that moment you need to hear it again, and again. So you roll your hips once more, intentionally this time.

Bradley’s low moan of pleasure makes you feel heady and reckless. You lick a stripe along the underside of his jaw. His hands fly to your ass, sliding under that frilly dress, grasping you with greedy hands when you kiss a spot behind his ear. Even in your frenzied state you file away his response to that for later.

And then you are lost in the feel of his mouth. Of his hands on you. Of your hands on him. Of the taste of the skin of his neck. Of the feeling of the zipper on his tight jeans hitting your clit just right as you writhe on top of him.

It starts as a shiver that makes your whole body erupt in goosebumps as he encourages the rolling of your hips against him. You’ve never felt as cared for, as safe as you do in his arms.

The tingling sensation begins at the base of your neck and like a flicker start it shoots down, down the entire length of your spine setting off in your cunt in spectacular electric bursts.

You spasm deliciously and devastatingly against nothing with Bradley pressed thick and hard against the center of you. The shockwaves gripping your body as you’re left gasping and panting into the hollow of his throat. 

“Did you just...?” he asks urgently. You can’t speak yet so you nod vigorously into his neck. “Fuck. That’s so hot.”

Pressing closer, you try to hide from the intensity you know you would find in his eyes. Burying your face further in his neck as you try to catch your breath. You breathe him in in hopes that his soothing cedar scent will help settle the rapid beating of your heart. 

“Sweet girl, please. C’mon, I gotta see you,” he murmurs desperately. He pulls his head back a bit trying to create more room to get a look at you, attempting to coax you out by brushing your hair back, “I need to see it. Please. Let me see your face.”

You can feel how turned on he is, can hear it in his voice. And you’re feeling truly shy around Bradley for probably the first time in your life.

“I’ve been thinking about what you’d sound like for weeks,” he tells you with such soft sincerity.

“Bradley,” you whisper finally pulling away from the sanctuary that is the crook of his neck. His heated gaze roams your face, drinking you in. He brings a hand up to cradle your cheek, this thumb skimming your lower lip. There are a thousand different emotions coursing through you and you know he can read them all. 

“God, you’re so beautiful. Talk to me, please,” he breathes, “What’s going through your mind? It’s just me.”

You have been so careful trying to skirt around this conversation. It has been the elephant in the room after every date, every heated make out session, every honeyed goodnight kiss. 

And you want him too much to keep avoiding this, even though it scares you.

“That’s just it, Bradley, it’s you!”

“It’s me?” he asks confused.

“Yes! It’s you, it’s me, it’s us. It has never been like this with anyone else. I have never felt like this with anyone else. And the way you look at me sometimes, it’s overwhelming.” You were still feeling flustered from your surprise orgasm, and you know you aren’t expressing yourself clearly. But you feel so flayed open before him.

“Hey, hey,” he says soothingly, “If this is too much for you, we can slow it down. Or if you aren’t feeling it, we figure out how to be just friends again.” He can’t hide the wince on his face as he says it, but you know he honestly means it. “It might take me a couple of decades to forget the way you sounded just now, but we would figure it out together.”

“No, I don’t want that. Don’t you get it? I feel the complete opposite, and that’s the problem!” 

“Ok, wait. You just came on my lap, sweet girl,” Bradley’s voice is unmistakably proud, even as he breathes out raggedly. “I’m trying to get my thoughts in order over here. Because that was the best thing I’ve ever heard and I’m having trouble getting my head on right to talk about this. So as much as I love having you on me, we have to readjust before we can continue.”

You make a noise of protest as maneuvers you both so that he is stretched out across the couch, while you’re nestled securely against the back of his couch and half draped over him.

“Let’s try this again,” he says rubbing small circles on your back, “I don’t want to mess this up by not knowing exactly where we stand with things, you are too important to me. Are you worried it’s going to be weird or that it’s not going to be good?”

“No.” That legitimately never even crossed your mind. But now a seed of doubt had been planted in your already anxious mind, “Are you?”

“Not even a little bit,” Bradley tells you with a shake of the head, “I know it’s going to be good.”

“That confident about your sexual prowess, huh?” It felt easier, safer to make a joke.

“Well, yeah. There’s that,” he hums with a half smirk, “But it’s you and me, kid. It’s gonna be good. How could it not be?”

There’s something about his steadfast sureness that warms your chest.

“Can I tell you what I’m worried about?” He waits for your nod of confirmation before continuing, “I’m worried about how I am supposed to function afterwards. How am I supposed to just get up and go to work in the morning after I’ve had you in my bed? Because once I get to have you like that, I’m never going to stop wanting more with you.”

And there’s the longing again, that pull in your stomach. You want him too, you want him too.

You are comforted knowing that he has things that have been on his mind too, that you’re not alone. Even if the two of you are concerned about two different things. And it was only right that you let him in, you could be unreservedly vulnerable for him. 

“Bradley, it’s been so incredibly good with us. But I’m so afraid that once we take this step, that all I am going to be thinking about is that we could have been doing this for years. That we could have had each other like this for years.” Even the idea of it hurts your heart, at the glimmer of the possibility that you could have gotten to this point with him sooner. “And I don’t want to have any regrets about the way our story has gone up until this point. But I especially don’t want to have any regrets about missing out on time with you.” 

He presses a kiss to your forehead in understanding. 

“Let me ask you this then, would you trade any of it?” he asks as he slides a hand around your neck to tilt your head up to look at him, “Any of the adventures we had when we were younger? Or the weekend visits? Or any of the late-night milkshake runs for it?”

You knew the answer immediately, “No. No, I wouldn’t trade a thing.”

“Then we’re right on time,” he promises sincerely as he skims his thumb along the line of your jaw. “We’re right on time, sweet girl.”

It’s so perfectly Bradley, the way he knows exactly what your heart needed to hear.

And all the extra pressure you had been feeling releases from your body because it’s Bradley.

It’s just Bradley. It’s just you. 

It’s just you and Bradley. 

It’s been that way since you were kids. 

You’ve had him as a friend. You still have him as a friend. But you also get to have more. 

Of course, it’s going to be good.

Of course, it’s going to be right.

Of course, there were going to be what if’s. It was inevitable.

What you weren’t going to do is let yourself dwell on what-could-have-beens or regrets because you have him here and now. And that is more than enough. 

It’s everything. 

You untangle yourself from him to stand up as he watches you apprehensively. Waiting to see what your next move will be.

Standing in front of Bradley, you hold his gaze as you find the zipper on the side your little red dress. All concern leaves his face as you draw it down slowly before him. He doesn’t blink as you let the silky fabric skim down your body, puddling at your feet. And then he is looking at you with open awe and longing. 

Stepping out of it lightly, you confidently make your way to the stairs towards his bedroom.

“Well, are you coming?”

PART 2

Not to worry, friends! There is more to come! After all, we have to find out what happens once she goes up those stairs!

To those who like to spice up their life a la the Spice Girls, I’ve got more headed your way (and by more, I mean smutttt)! I have a taglist, so let me know if you would like to be added!

I wrote this as a birthday fic for the one and only @gretagerwigsmuse​! (Surprise! See I can be sneaky, even if you already knew about it, haha!) It may be a little late, but I hope it was worth the wait!

Mood board for Part 1

(This is written for part of my ‘Like I Can’ series. You don’t need to read it first, but you might want to. It’s pretty cute! You can check it out here!)

You can check out my other fics here!

Taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @notroosterbradshaw @laracrofted @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @itscheybaby @prettylittlelauraa @startrekfangirl2233 @marantha @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @itsizzythebell @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @boltgirl426 @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @torres-espana @uzumegui @dont-talk-me-down @fandomunite2107 @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pariahsparadise @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @nina-sj @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @misty-inferno @angellwingsss @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @mrsdaamneron @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @melllinaa @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @mandolin22 @imaginecrushes @soleilgrec @keyrani @chicomonks 

[heartcereql]

𝗮𝗺𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗻

☆neteyam sully x fem!metkayina!reader

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒- neteyam decided to get a metkayina tattoo after your mating.

𝐂𝐖- sorta au where pookie doesn’t die, aged up characters (they’re in their 20s), tooth rotting fluff:(

𝐀/𝐍- y’all sorry i disappeared; i was having a rough time buttt i’m back on the tracks! also bare with the title bc neteyam is technically half american so…

“stay still! it’s almost finished” you tried to hold neteyam steady, a cheeky grin on your face.

“it tickles” he managed to get out without moving too much.

it amazed you how quickly yet perfectly everything had flowed between you two. he had barely just arrived at the reef when you met him. of course, plenty of metkayina girls were all over him, swooning and admiring. he’d courtly tell them meaningless compliments, flirting with the girls like ‘you’re so pretty’. but he had no intentions with them. not since the moment he laid eyes on you.

you got involved in the blink of an eye, and, before either of you could even have a second thought about it, you were mated.

you were the happiest you had ever been. he made you alive in a way nothing or no one had before. he made you crazy, he made you wild.

and that very same morning, he had approached you with a reckless idea. one that could have been deemed as unimportant, but that to you meant so much more. neteyam wanted to get a tattoo, a metkayina tattoo. a mark that would permanently remain on your skin, a mark that carried a symbolic significance to your clan.

now, as the last drops of ink we’re being imprinted on his flesh and your hand held his, you couldn’t help but wonder. what had you done to deserve such a wonderful man?

“all done here” the tattooer said, patting neteyam’s shoulder and nodding to you both before disappearing.

you scooted around him, contemplating the tattoo with a smile of pure admiration.

“i still can’t believe you did this” you murmured, fingers tracing his newly acquired drawing.

“what can i say, you make me wild” he said as he pulled you in for a kiss.

your hands secured themselves on his chest, but, just as you were beginning to accommodate, neteyam lifted you in his arms.

you gasped at the sudden change, breaking away to look at him, your gaze amused with a hint of confusion. with another peck to your lips, he started spinning you around, almost like a child.

neither of you could help but break into laughter and giggles, relishing in the other's touch and presence, young, dope and proud.

as he set you down again- not without steadying you first to make sure you had shaken off all the dizziness from the twists-, your hands reached to cup his face.

"you make me the luckiest person" you softly spoke, leaning more into his embrace. "only you can."

© heartcereql, 2023 || thank you for reading ! 𓆩 ♱ 𓆪

[anto-pops]

A Torrid Arrangement - Sebastian Sallow x Female! Reader

Summary: You and Sebastian have had a 'friends-with-benefits' dynamic going on for close to a year now, and the more time passes, the harder it is for him to hide his true feelings for you. It's an unbearable kind of torment, but he forces himself to grin and bear it anyway to preserve the integrity of his... situation-ship with you. That is, until the metaphorical floodgates finally open up.

Alternatively summarized as gratuitous FWB smut with lots of playful banter sprinkled in

This came from the depths of my fever-induced brain so if its all over the place, I apologize. But YAY MORE SMUT !!

Word Count: 8.6k

Warnings: 18+, aged up characters, explicit sexual content, lots of hickies

Full fic can be found here on Ao3 with more informative tags, as per usual :))

Sebastian knew it was going to be one of those days before he was even fully conscious. 

He jolted awake from an extremely graphic wet dream at the ass crack of dawn, hard and sweaty and tangled in the sheets, already reaching beside himself for the body that had just been pressed against his own. The dream had been so real– so incredibly vivid– that he swore he could still taste the familiar, salty skin on the tip of his tongue. He’d been so fucking close too; buried deep between soft thighs, clinging tight with every fiber of his being when reality had come and butt its ugly, unwelcome head in. 

With a ragged, disappointed groan, Sebastian let his head fall back against his pillow and dragged his hands down his flushed face, graciously allowing himself a few minutes to sort himself out. 

This was far from the first wet dream he’d had about you, and he was certain it wouldn’t be the last. Hell– you gave Sebastian’s thirsty subconscious plenty of material to work with every time you came around to ‘relieve stress’. Being long-standing fuck buddies with you granted him that lucious priviledge. Sebastian knew damn well how good you felt holding onto him, what you sounded like when you were about to come, what your heated, sweat-slick skin tasted like. 

He also knew how fucking cute you could be— especially when you were sprawled across his bed in his dorm with a textbook open beneath you to sneakily segue from studying together to fooling around. He knew how badly he wanted to spread you out across his sheets and make you moan for hours– to worship your perfect body slowly and sweetly with his hands and his mouth. 

It was barely past dawn and Sebastian already knew he was going to be tracking you down at some point today to act on his urges. As always, he would be hiding his monstrous crush under a thick layer of casual booty call. 

—

Whenever Sebastian woke up like this– nerves stretched paper thin over a desperate craving for intimacy– dueling was one of the few things that helped him clear his head and get his shit together. He wasn’t exactly a morning person, and he was even less of a people person at such a ripe, early hour, but he’d still left the confines of his dorm to make the trek to the Crossed Wands courtyard. 

There were no students in this area of the castle at this time, which just meant he would be making do with the practice dummies for a few hours until his blood cooled within his veins. Spell after spell fired from his wand and struck hard and true against the wooden figurines that lined the walls, the sound echoing off the Clock Tower walls and drowning out his incessant, horny thoughts. 

Thoughts that revolved too much around how nice your thighs would look with dark imprints of his teeth all over them. 

Biting the inside of his cheek, Sebastian unleashed a particularly aggressive Confringo charm in a bid to expel his sinful train of thought. The dummy erupted in an explosion of wooden bits and flaming embers, and as it collapsed to the stone floor in a mangled heap, the brunet realized that there was in fact one other person on school grounds awake– and they just so happened to be walking right towards him. 

He could practically hear fate howling with laughter at his expense when he dimly registered that not only did he know this lone survivor, it was against all probability none other than you, because why the fuck not. 

You were stomping through the outer courtyard with a few textbooks clutched tight in your white-knuckled grip, looking equal parts distracted and deliciously disheveled from a distance. Your mind had to be as scattered as his was, because you clearly didn’t notice Sebastian or the on fire training dummy as you strode through the open clock tower gate. He did his best to play it cool when you finally made eye contact with him, trying exceptionally hard to not look like he’d just jacked off to the way dream-you squirmed under him not twenty minutes prior. 

“Hey, you,” Sebastian called out smoothly when your hurried pace slowed down at the sight of him. You shook your head as though to clear it, squinting at him harder as you evenly stalked up to him, and your frown became more and more apparent the closer you got. Everything about your demeanor screamed ‘wild Graphorn, do not approach’, but Sebastian had never been great at following directions. 

You raked one of your hands through your wild hair as you finally came to stop a few feet away, panting slightly as you stared up at him as though you weren’t entirely sure he was real. “Sebastian?” 

The man in question cocked a brow at you, giving you a quick once over. Your hair was definitely mussed more than usual, a few stray strands falling over your forehead while others stuck up on one side– as if you’d been combing your fingers through it all night. There was no missing the mildly insane glint in your bloodshot eyes, and you were slightly paler than normal. Sebastian was also pretty sure you’d been wearing the same blouse yesterday, if the tiny stain on the collar was any indication. 

If you didn’t look so damned grumpy, Sebastian would swear he’d just caught you in the middle of a walk of shame. The mere idea sent a sharp pang of jealousy straight through his core, and he had to bite his tongue to stifle the snide comment that threatened to fall from his lips. He failed, opting to instead poke the metaphorical bruise and deal with the throbbing ache doing so would bring him. 

“Someone didn’t go to her dorm last night,” he snickered, aiming a crooked grin down at you. “Congrats on getting lucky.” 

Normally he would expect you to just roll your eyes and punch him in the shoulder before ribbing him back. But as Sebastian watched your eyes widen at the same time your face flushed several different shades of red, he couldn’t help but wonder if poking the metaphorical Graphorn before the sun was even fully up was a good idea. 

“I was not getting lucky,” you hissed at him, one eye twitching. Sebastian raised his hands in mock surrender before sticking his wand back in his pocket, awkwardly shifting on his feet for a moment as you huffed out an agitated sigh. “I’ve been getting fucked for the last twelve hours by Professor Sharp’s assignment– fifteen pages on the origin and uses of Wiggenweld. I’m not even sure if most of what I’ve written comes off as real English, so don’t fucking chuckle at me about getting lucky, you ass.” 

Sebastian just stared at you silently, watching you fume. He’d pulled plenty of all-nighters with you before, so he knew full well that after a certain amount of sleep deprivation and stress, you had a tendency to lose your shit in addition to your filter. “Ah,” he mumbled as he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, only hesitating for a second. 

After all, he just so happened to know exactly how you liked to relieve your stress. 

He licked his lips quickly before he said, “You, uh… kinda look like you could stand to get lucky, huh?” 

Your nostrils flared slightly as you squinted up at him for a long minute instead of responding. It might have looked like a murderous face to anyone else, but Sebastian knew better, and he could practically hear the gears in your head clanking together as you weighed the offer. 

“…I mean, if you’re not doing anything else,” you finally muttered, your tense shoulders dropping a smidge. 

He gestured loosely to the demolished pile of wood on the ground. “I’m not anymore,” came his fluid reply, and before you could take note of the smoking remnants of the training dummy, Sebastian’s hand was grasping yours tight as he tugged you along behind him. You blearily blinked the fatigue from your eyes as you fell into step beside him, and the brunet tried his very best not to let on how extremely pleased he was.

—

Halfway to Sebastian’s dorm, you’d interrupted his hurried pace and directed him to the Room of Requirement in an attempt to avoid any awkward run-ins with his roommates. The absolute last thing you wanted to deal with on top of your Potion’s related irritation was prying eyes, and you already knew the Slytherin dorms would be chock full of those. 

Upon entering the more private space atop the Astronomy Tower, you threw aside your textbooks on the lone side table next to the double doors and spun around to yank Sebastian into a frantic, needy kiss. Your nails dug into his firm shoulders as you swiftly pulled him down to your level, and he allowed you to grind your hips against his steadily growing erection as his own fingers dug into the small of your back. 

“H-Hey, hold on,” Sebastian wheezed out when you pulled away to tug at his belt, and his hands dropped to your waist to hold you at arms length so he could look you over again. As the two of you had trekked up to the Room, you’d begun to look more and more exhausted— too out of it to even gripe about the endless staircase that never failed to draw complaints from you. “Are you sure you’re up for this right now? You look like death.” 

You snorted and rolled your tired eyes, pursing your lips in blatant disapproval. “Nagging, Sebastian? Really? I thought we were past this.” 

“I’m not nagging,” he grumbled. “I’m just saying, you kinda look like you need a nap more than you need a quick fuck.” 

Tutting disdainfully, your hands fell away from his belt as you crossed your arms over your chest. “I was just starting to loosen up. See if I ever relax around your ass again,” you retorted drily, tilting your head back to blink up at the ceiling. “The assignment is due before lunch today. If I sleep now, I’m not waking up until tomorrow. I can’t sleep yet.”

Sebastian tilted his head with a thoughtful frown, mirroring your stance by crossing his arms over his own chest. “What if I wake you up?” 

You shook your head dutifully, although you were sorely tempted by the idea. “Trust me, I can feel the impending coma. I can’t risk it.”

“Want me to turn your paper in for you?”

Another mournful shake of your head. “You know Sharp, he’s as stern as they come. I’m positive he wouldn’t take it from you– and I’m sure he’d give you detention for trying. It’s fine, I just need to tough it out for a few more hours. Think you can help with that?” 

“Shit, yeah,” he relented, fighting the urge to bury his face in your messy head of hair. Instead he opted for uncrossing his arms to run his hands up your shoulders to gently squeeze at the tense muscles there, and you sighed at the delightful shiver that danced up your spine from the action. “I’m really not trying to kill you, though. Are you sure you’re good for this?” 

You snorted again, shaking your head slightly, and the tension in your upper body began seeping away under Sebastian’s warm palms. “Are you always this sweet to your fuck buddies?” The brunet could feel himself flushing at the statement, but before he could respond, you were muttering, “It’s really weird coming from you.” 

“Hey–”

“Just shut up and fuck me already,” you barked over Sebastian’s protest, pulling away from him to head further into the massive space towards the modest bedroom in the corner. The adjacent room had never disappeared after your first hook-up here with your longtime companion, and its constant existence since then had served as an odd reminder of your arrangement with the man. 

If you weren’t so stiff and weird from exhaustion, Sebastian could honestly convince himself that you were embarrassed or something. For now, though, he simply chalked your jaded nature up to your lack of a filter and stalked after you– totally not obsessing over the fact that you’d just called him sweet. 

You’d been undoing the buttons on your shirt as you walked, and as soon as you made it inside the bedroom, you stripped the material off completely and discarded it in the corner of the room. Your skirt quickly followed, and all the while Sebastian was forcing himself not to think about how nice dream-you’s skin had looked tangled in his dream-sheets. 

Sebastian stood in the doorway as he began unbuttoning his own shirt, shucking the attire off of his shoulders before moving down to his belt. The metal clink of the buckle was enough to draw your attention, and you fell back onto the mattress and scooted up towards the pillows without taking your eyes off him. The eager look in your fatigued eyes was enough to spur Sebastian onward quicker, and before long he was dressed in only his briefs as he prowled towards the bed with a predatory glint in his eyes. 

The way you were sprawled atop the sheets with your arms resting above your head was a sight Sebastian vowed to commit to memory for as long as he lived. You were clearly giving him free reign over your body, and his mouth ran dry at the realization that you were wholly handing control over to him. He swallowed thickly and moved to straddle your hips, leaning over you on his forearms so he could better slot your lips together, and after a few tentative pecks, his boldness started to grow. You sighed and tilted your chin into Sebastian’s kisses, parting your lips invitingly as you melted into the cool, satin sheets beneath you. 

With as tired and as boneless as you were, it seemed like you might actually be patient for once, and the thought had Sebastian’s heart fluttering excitedly. More often than not, he was so susceptible to your impatience and intensity that he always found himself getting swept up in your urgency when the two of you did this. Not that he didn’t love it; the dire, rough pace he’d always settle into with you, all gasping moans and tightly-gripped hands and frantic, needy thrusts– he absolutely loved it. It kept him hooked and craving more, even when you were both panting and sated. This, though…

Having you give up the lead and just relax for him was like a literal wet dream come to life. 

Tangling your tongues with a low moan, Sebastian leaned into you slightly, his hands shifting to rub slowly up your sides until his deft fingers slipped under your arched back to unhook your bra. It fell away like nothing, and you moaned against his lips when the pads of his thumbs came to graze over your pert nipples. Your sleep-deprived loopiness had to be contagious, because Sebastian pulled away from your lips to mouth hotly against your ear, “I dreamt about you last night.” 

He didn’t get the chance to feel weird about admitting it. You chuckled warmly, your kiss-swollen lips curving into a crooked, amused smile. “Oh yeah?” 

“Yeah,” he murmured, pausing to suck gently at your earlobe while his thumbs idly traced the outline of your ribs. He brushed his lips down the angle of your jaw, exhaling shakily when you leaned your head aside to freely offer him the wonderfully sensitive expanse of your neck. Sebastian lightly dragged his teeth down the soft, heated skin, then flicked his tongue over the faded imprint of the last hickey he’d left there. It was barely noticeable now. 

You shivered at the feeling, your fingers twisting in the sheets above your head before you sighed contentedly. “Was I pulling my hair out about Potions?”

“Fuck no.” He nipped at the faint bruise before pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to your pulse, sucking just enough to briefly tease you. “I had you under me like this,” he continued softly, pitching his voice low and nuzzling into your ear again, purposely aiming to press your buttons and work you into a needy frenzy. He felt your breath hitch more than he heard it, and as a sly grin broke out across his face, Sebastian slipped his fingers up your chest to pinch at your nipples once again. “I was fucking you nice and slow, making you feel so good…”

Moaning softly, you arched up into Sebastian’s hands, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth as he teased and flicked the sensitive nubs into stiff peaks. Your hips inadvertently rocked up against his as you desperately sought friction in the area you wanted it most. “Sounds like you’ve already got a game plan, huh?”

He sat back on his heels to look down at you as he shrugged. “If you’re up to it,”

“Just don’t let me fall asleep,” you mused, your hooded eyes trailing down Sebastian’s tanned, freckled chest to his dark briefs, halting when you caught sight of his cock straining against the cotton material. The sight had you licking your lips and fidgeting slightly before you blinked back up at him. “This paper is worth a quarter of my grade.” 

“I won’t. Merlin– you worry too much.” Sitting upright with an amused shake of his head, Sebastian rolled off of you to sidle down the mattress so he was kneeled comfortably between your outstretched legs. Your hands fell to your thin underwear, ready to peel them away to get a move on with things, but Sebastian swatted away your appendages quickly. With a half-hearted scowl, you relinquished control, allowing your arms to rest above your head again as you once more bared yourself to the larger man. 

Sebastian groaned softly at the sight, continuing where you’d left off by slipping his fingers under the waistband of your undergarments before tugging the damp fabric away from your aching center. You lifted your knees to assist him, and in one swift motion he had discarded the soiled attire over his shoulder, taking care to drag his eyes down the supple curve of your waist before settling on your glistening folds. 

“Damn, darling,” he moaned earnestly. “You look so fucking perfect like this.” You huffed softly as you hooked your legs around Sebastian’s hips to tug him closer, and he hummed at the same time he looped one of his hands under your thigh to hold you to him as he rocked against your slick core. The friction was tantamount to perfection, but you craved more, and Sebastian knew it too. 

Before you could open your mouth to complain, the freckled man ducked to press hot, wet kisses down the line of your throat, sucking and biting as he made his way down your shoulder past your collarbone. As he mouthed down your chest, he paused to tease one of your perked nipples gently between his teeth, and a pang of arousal shot through him when you arched and moaned under him. It was pure bliss– and your eyes rolled shut as your hips pressed up insistently. Sebastian ground his hips into yours for as long as he could manage before he had to scoot back to continue further, but he made up for it by dragging his nails deliciously down your thighs before he’d settled between your outstretched legs. 

You made such a pretty picture spread out in the lush, satin sheets this way; with your hands fisted in the covers above your head, your legs spread on either side of him, and the lustful gaze you pinned him with, Sebastian was half convinced he’d fallen back asleep this morning and was still dreaming. He couldn’t pass up the opportunity to watch your body react to his touch, so he smiled as he dipped his head to drag the flat of his tongue up your wet folds, and the way your breath stuttered in your throat was far more enticing than it had any right to be. You attempted to push yourself up onto your elbows to watch– entirely enthralled with how Sebastian looked between your thighs– but then he took your clit between his lips and sucked, and you were pulling the sheets into your clenched fists and falling back against the pillows with a ragged moan.

Sebastian continued to toy with you that way for far too long for comfort– holding you hostage in some combined purgatory of bliss and torment as he sucked and lapped at your center. It was far too easy to reduce you to a pile of brainless mush given your fatigued, overly-sensitive state, and he was all too curious to discover how many new things you would let him get away with before you got impatient and started begging. 

With gentle, attentive hands, Sebastian coaxed you into raising one of your knees up so he could throw your leg over his shoulder, instantly coiling his strong arms under your waist to hold you firmly to his unrelenting mouth. His stomach flipped at how easily you relaxed for him, and you proceeded to fight your boneless nature so you could sit up and watch him with lust-dark, hazy eyes. Sebastian loved the attention– thrived on it, really– and he broke away from your overwhelmingly wet heat to pepper chaste kisses along the smooth hollow of your leg. You were already breathing heavier– your fingers twitching around handfuls of fabric– and when Sebastian moaned and slipped his tongue out in-between kisses to lightly run the tip along soft, sensitive skin, your breath caught audibly in your chest before you shuddered out a shaky sigh. 

When he first sank his teeth into the heated flesh midway up your inner thigh, he did so gently, but your hips still jerked at the sensation, and you couldn’t stop the wanton moan that slipped through your parted lips. “Fuck, Sebastian–” you groaned, your voice laced with obvious desire. You dug the heel of your foot into the middle of his back, silently imploring him to give you more, because the feeling of him marking you somewhere so sensitive was too fucking good. 

Sebastian flashed you a smug grin as he pulled away, but not before planting a lingering kiss along the faint imprints of his teeth. The gesture was warm and promising– as was the way his hand squeezed your waist before letting the leg over his shoulder fall back against the mattress. He moved to splay his hands over your hips, your thighs resting comfortably over his arms, but he let them stay spread open rather than using his grip to pull you around like he usually would. 

As his thumbs trailed gently along the curves of your hip bones, Sebastian leaned back down to brush another warm kiss along your inner thigh, humming at the way your muscles tensed slightly. He nuzzled up higher, then parted his lips against the soft skin to bite again, and this time he sucked steadily with the intent of leaving a dark, lasting mark there too. You moaned softly, your hips rocking up at the sensation, and as Sebastian worked yet another brand into your skin, your breath shifted into quiet panting as your hands twisted in the sheets. 

Satisfied with the deep purple of the bruise and the light imprint of his teeth around it, Sebastian pulled away and dragged the flat of his tongue over his brand soothingly, breathing a low groan as he did so. He admired it for a moment longer before he mouthed wetly up your leg further, his dark, messy curls brushing against the join of your thigh. 

He nuzzled closer to begin working another mark there, and the sharp sting of his lips and his teeth had you gasping– bending your free thigh up to let it fall to the side in a bid to give Sebastian all the room he wanted to keep going. He moaned encouragingly, squeezing your hips once again as you lifted them up for more, and he dragged his tongue up along the soft hollow of your thigh as his brow furrowed in concentration. 

“S-Sebastian,” you gasped, trembling under the brunet’s affection. The shaky insistence to your voice caught his attention, so he leaned up enough to look at you as he licked his lips and pet your hips soothingly. Swallowing heavily, you opened your eyes and shivered, meeting his gaze almost shyly before you murmured, “I-I don’t– I don’t usually like slow stuff.” 

Sebastian shifted up onto his elbows, idly drawing his palms back and forth over your flushed skin. His expression showed nothing but concern as he asked, “Do you want to stop?” 

You shook your head quickly, scooting your hips minutely towards him. “N-No, no– this is fine. Good, even, I… I like this.” 

Tilting his head to the side, Sebastian tried unsuccessfully to figure out what was happening, then cautiously asked, “Are you okay?” 

“Yes,” you answered firmly, leaving no room for doubt. You fidgeted for a few seconds, squirming under the obvious care Sebastian was showing for you until you eventually took a breath and relented. “I like this. A lot.” The freckled man only cocked a brow at you in confusion, but before he could move to crawl over you again, you huffed and flopped back against the mattress. “I like you leaving marks on me, too.” 

He mulled that over in his brain for a long moment, squinting slightly. “Okay…?” 

“You fucking ass,” you wheezed out, your breath akin to an overwhelmed laugh. “It’s because it’s you, Sebastian, Merlin’s beard– I like you.”

Pressing his lips into a thin line, Sebastian stared up at you again and carefully replied, “Thanks?” 

“Nevermind, I hate you,” you grumbled, slinging an arm over your face. “Forget I said anything.” 

“No– hold on–” he sputtered before sitting up straight, his arms sliding out from under your thighs. You appeared to be disgruntled by the change, but you didn’t come out from hiding to complain. “I mean– we’ve been fucking for like a year. I’d hope to the Gods you can stand me by now.” 

You groaned from beneath the safety of your arm shield, “I cannot believe I have to spell this out for you. I’ve been fucking you for like a year because I like you, you moonmind. Like, romantically. Very much into you, whether we’re fucking or not.”

With an uncomfortably loud click, Sebastian understood.

“Oh!” His eyes damn near popped out of his skull, his heart doing some insane acrobatics in his chest, but all of that took a backseat to the blissful realization that he wasn’t the only one with a big, gross crush. “Oh, shit, okay,” he sputtered, raking his hands through his hair. “Wow, okay. Fuck, sorry– I was totally involved in the hickey thing, my brain wasn’t on. Wow.” 

“Merlin’s balls,” you groused, already trying to roll away from Sebastian’s wildly embarrassing presence. “I should not have said anything.”

“No!” Sebastian scrambled up the bed to brace himself on his hands above you, caging you between his arms while his heart hammered away against his sternum. “No, no no, you definitely should have said something, darling– shit.” He paused to try and coax you into coming out of hiding, but when you resisted him firmly, he didn’t push it. Instead, he chewed the inside of his cheek and tried to get his racing thoughts in order so he wouldn’t blurt out something completely idiotic. 

“I am like, ridiculously in love with you.” 

Completely idiotic. 

You froze under him momentarily before peering up at him over your elbow, your wide-eyed stare bordering on horrified. Cursing under his breath, Sebastian buried his hands in his hair and stared right back, almost entirely sure he could feel his life force draining from his body. 

“I-I mean– fuck, wait–”

“Are you kidding me!?” You bolted upright– narrowly avoiding cracking your skull against Sebastian’s on the way up. Your fingers clamped down on his shoulders so you could rattle him slightly as you blurted, “What the hell, Sebastian! How long?” 

“I don’t know!” He threw his hands up and pointedly stared at the wall before grumbling, “I don’t fucking know, it’s not like it happened all at once. It started towards the end of our fifth-year and it just kinda… grew from there. Like a Horklump.” 

Sebastian realized how shitty that euphemism was when your mouth fell open in utter disbelief. “Did you seriously just compare your feelings for me to a fungus?” 

“Look, I’m sorry, okay?” He sat back on his heels, crossing his arms stiffly over his bare chest as he returned to staring at anything but you.

“For what, exactly?” You ran a trembling hand through your unruly hair, then dropped your gaze to the sheets. “For returning my feelings? Or for not saying anything before right now?” Sebastian just shrugged unhelpfully with his lips pursed. Groaning loudly, you flopped back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling for a minute, your irritated, murder face back in full swing. 

Just as Sebastian was starting to get worried by the awkward silence— doing his best not to fidget— you nodded to yourself and announced, “We should date each other.” 

“…Come again?” 

“We should date each other,” you repeated firmly, leaning up on your elbows again and exuding a confidence that had seemingly come out of nowhere. “I like you, you love me–” Sebastian did his best to not choke on his own tongue, “–we spend so much time together that we’re basically dating anyways. At least, Imelda seems to think so… it seems like a good enough idea to me, if you’re interested.” 

It took Sebastian a few seconds to untangle his tongue enough to reply, but when he did, all he could do was croak, “You want to date me?”

“Yes. I’d like that.” 

“…Are you high? Did you smoke Mallowsweet on your way here?”

You groaned and tipped your head back between your shoulders, very clearly searching for some semblance of patience. “I’m high on sleep deprivation, yes, but that doesn’t make my feelings any less real. They’re there whether I’ve slept or not. It’s actually hell.” 

Sebastian was still flabbergasted, staring down at you helplessly. “Why are you bringing this up now?” 

“I don’t know! I didn’t mean to full-on confess or anything, it just kind of came out that way. You were leaving hickeys on me, and I realized that whenever I wake up tomorrow, I’m gonna feel them and see them and remember how you fucking appeared out of nowhere right when I was wondering if you’d be pissed if I snuck into your dorm at the ass crack of dawn– and then I’ll remember how good you looked leaving them on me and how I totally wanted you to do slow mushy lovey sex stuff to me, and then I’ll probably sleep like shit for weeks fantasizing about that, and–”

“Okay, alright, damn,” Sebastian interjected, his face flushed an impressively dark shade of red.

“You asked,” you mumbled as you half-heartedly picked at the sheets. 

“I did, yeah.” Licking his lips quickly, Sebastian reached forward to rest his hand over yours, dragging his thumb along your knuckles soothingly. “I’d really, really like that. A lot, if I’m being honest. I’ve kind of dreamt about it for a while now.”

Your sheepish smile transformed rapidly into something purely elated, and you flipped your hand over to intertwine your fingers with his own as you playfully mused, “Not the only thing you’ve been dreaming about, apparently.” 

Sebastian laughed again, and this time it was less nervous and more breathless with relief. He leaned forward to brush his lips against yours, resting his free hand on your warm cheek, and you instantly relaxed for him as you tilted your chin up into the kiss as you gave his fingers a tentative squeeze. 

You fell back onto the bed again as you tugged Sebastian over you, loosely hooking your legs around his hips to keep him close. The brunet groaned and leaned into you, and when you threaded your fingers into his hair and pulled him into another kiss, he slipped his tongue between your lips with a shaky sigh– all too eager to put his hands all over you. Luckily you seemed to be of like mind, moaning against his mouth before pulling back just enough to whisper, “Touch me, please.” 

Sebastian nodded ardently and nipped at your flushed lips, shifting his weight to free up his hands so he could better run his palms along your sides. He squeezed gently before dragging one hand down to your still-slick heat, expertly seeking out your tiny bundle of nerves in a bid to reduce you to a mewling, gasping mess. Your spine rounded towards him as soon as he found it– an airy moan ripping from your throat as he pressed tight circles around the nub– and Sebastian swallowed your keening noises greedily. 

“Why are you still wearing these?” You murmured against his plush lips as your finger slipped beneath the waistband of his briefs, tugging softly to convey your request. 

There was no muffling his smug bark of laughter, and a feline smile split his face as he pulled back just enough to plant a featherlight kiss on the tip of your nose. “So impatient,” he teased, intentionally ignoring your hand on his undergarments in favor of sliding one of his skilled fingers through your folds. He replaced the missing finger against your clit with his thumb at the same time he inserted a digit inside of your pulsing walls, and the feeling had your head falling back as your lips parted around a stuttered gasp, your thighs tightening impossibly further around his waist. 

Undeterred, you blindly wiggled your hand under the hem of Sebastian’s underwear and tugged his arousal out with a practiced flick of your wrist. You wrapped your fingers around his girth and gave him a long, tight stroke– squeezing the head in the way you knew he liked– which in turn earned you a rough, wavering moan. Matching Sebastian’s pace was easy, and you stroked him steadily as you leaned up to seal your lips over his pulse to begin working a dark hickey of your own into his sweaty, freckled skin. 

Resting his weight on his free arm, Sebastian leaned closer as he sighed heavily while his brown eyes fluttered shut from the way your mouth felt on his neck. He rocked his hips into your hand and pumped his fingers a few more times inside of you before he was withdrawing the digits to push his briefs down all the way. You merely chuckled against his throat, pulling off of the fresh, blossoming mark with a satisfied hum before you laved your tongue over it. 

Once Sebastian had finally wrestled off his briefs and settled over you again, you tugged him by the neck back into a hungry kiss, and he groaned deeply at the way you moved perfectly against him. As you curled your tongue between his lips, your hands traversed down the broad expanse of his toned back to feel as much of him as you could, pawing encouragingly at his lower back to guide him into a languid, grinding rhythm against you. 

Sebastian let himself follow your lead for a few slow thrusts, but the way your skin felt against his– coupled with the way your quiet moans sounded muffled against his lips– was too tempting to overlook for long. Following a brief, bitey kiss, Sebastian dropped his hand between your legs once again to press at your wet, warm entrance. You shivered at the way his fingers felt against you as he coaxed you into relaxing, and your nails dug into his sculpted shoulders when he mercifully worked two of his thick digits inside of you. A string of moans and praises alike fell from your lips as your head lolled back against the pillows, and the remnants of Sebastian’s restraint began to slip away as a result. 

“Fuck, darling,” he keened breathlessly, unable to take his eyes off of your face as your expression shifted into one of pure pleasure. His buried his fingers to the knuckles, utterly overwhelmed at how tight you were, and he nudged his nose against your cheek as he murmured, “You look so fucking good right now…”

“Y-You may have mentioned that, yeah,” you laughed against his sweat-slick skin, blinking affectionately up at your now-boyfriend as he took in your pliant body beneath him, and the thought imbued you with a fresh sense of desire that you were desperate to act on. “Come on, I want you inside me already.” 

With a wheezy laugh, Sebastian nodded and ducked his head to catch your lips again as he started thrusting his fingers into your pulsing heat. He nibbled gently at your bottom lip when he buried his fingers deep to curl them towards your stomach, which in turn earned him a squeaky little moan that was immediately followed by an impatient wriggle of your hips. Your legs were trembling with barely contained want as you spread them further, and Sebastian took full advantage of the newly acquired space to readjust himself into a more comfortable position. 

By the time you were panting against him and rocking back onto his fingers, Sebastian was more than ready to move things along. He slid his fingers out and pulled away with another quick kiss before sitting up to steady his cock at your entrance. You helpfully wrapped your legs around his waist again, angling your hips towards him with a coy smile on your face until you felt the head of his achingly hard member bump against you. Sebastian flashed you a doting smile in return, and with an unhurried roll of his hips, he was sinking into you with a throaty groan that made your hair stand on end. 

“F-Fuck, you feel so warm– you’re perfect, darling,” he grit through his clenched teeth, plunging himself deeper inch by inch until he had bottomed out completely inside of you. The way your walls fluttered around him made him dizzy with need, but he noted the tension in your shoulders and forced himself to maintain his slow pace so you could get acclimated to the feeling. Sebastian was practically fluent in your stubborn body language by now, and he was nothing if not determined to get you to relax completely. 

Rather than thrusting deeper, Sebastian sighed and licked his lips as he glanced up at your face. You were an incredibly tense person on the best of days, but when you were running on fumes like this, he found it to be even harder to get you to release the mountain of stress you seemingly carried with you at all times. While he was all too used to the frown lines that so frequently cropped up between your brows, seeing them now just made Sebastian want to be even gentler with you– even more careful. 

He lightly nudged your head aside and set to dragging hot, wet kisses down the column of your throat, moaning wantonly at the bare salt of your sweat on his tongue. You shivered and gasped, tilting your head to the side with a low sigh to grant the brunet more access, and before long the combined feeling of Sebastian’s tongue and lips on your neck had you melting under him completely with your eyes blissfully closed. 

“That feels… really good,” you murmured with a low voice. It was pure rapture to feel Sebastian this way; moving slowly inside of you, his lips dancing down your throat and nipping softly at the skin there. His hands eventually crept up the pillows to tangle in your hair, and the enticing feeling of his nails scraping against your scalp was enough to have you tightening around his cock a fraction. 

The praise sent a bolt of confidence through Sebastian, and he moved from your neck back to your lips to slot your mouths together again. He gingerly pulled his hips back before rolling them forward, and when you moved down against him with a shaky breath, it was all the go-ahead he needed to keep going. 

The rhythm he fell into was slow and steady, moving inside you with long, easy thrusts while he ground against your ass every time he buried himself deep. His eyes remained trained on your face, your expression clearly showing how pleased you were to be taken care of. You weren’t squirming in blatant pleasure yet, but Sebastian figured this was a good enough first step. 

“C’mon, Sebastian– you’re putting me to sleep here,” you mumbled playfully, letting your arms rest above your head in the way Sebastian loved to see. His tempo faltered slightly, but your mischievous grin betrayed the legitimacy of the claim; he should’ve known you were simply teasing him, especially when he knew you always got a kick out of taunting him. 

“Oh yeah?” He practically purred, sitting back on his heels to wrap his hands around your hips as he hauled you aggressively into his lap. 

You adjusted to him easily, wiggling your hips in Sebastian’s grasp in a bid to spur him onward. “Yeah… jeez, Sallow, you had one job. Tsk tsk.” 

“Well, shit.” He grinned wickedly down at you as he rolled his hips back, pulling almost all the way out and relishing in the way your face fell briefly. He hovered there for a long, torturous second before he snapped his hips back into you, using his grip to hold you down on his cock as he ground deeper and harder than before. You were left gasping at the feeling, your head falling back as your fingers twisted in the sheets, and before you could recover, Sebastian rasped, “Guess I should fuck you better then, huh?” 

Without giving you room to breathe, Sebastian kept up his agonizingly slow pace, easily pulling you back onto his cock with every firm thrust. He fucked into you evenly– his strong hands controlling the rhythm in the way he knew drove you crazy– and it earned him a cacophony of shaky moans that fell from your flushed, bitten lips. 

“Yeah,” you replied finally, your voice tight and shaky. “You have to keep me up all morning, remember?” 

It was a simple enough statement, but the way it rolled off of your tongue made it sound absolutely filthy. Your raspy voice was dripping with lust, your hot breath panting out between your parted lips, and that was more than enough to light a fire in Sebastian’s blood. 

Groaning roughly, Sebastian paused long enough to hook his arms under your knees to haul them easily over his shoulders. You gasped as the movement lifted you off of your hips– then again when he nipped sharply at the inside of your knee before sucking hard enough to leave another flushed bruise there. The sensation had you squirming in Sebastian’s lap to the best of your ability, moaning breathlessly as he ground into you with a low rumble. 

Once he was satisfied with his mark, the freckled man rubbed his hands slowly down your tense thighs, leaning over you on his hands again so you were effectively bent back and pressed against the sheets. Sebastian leaned more of his weight into you– sinking deeper– and just as you were opening your mouth to urge him on, he started moving again. 

He picked up his pace from before easily, but now, every slow, hard thrust stuffed you full of him, and it didn’t take him long to find the angle that had you gasping sweet little moans with every shaky breath. 

Writhing under him, you arched your back and gasped Sebastian’s name as your hands tightened in the covers above your head and pulled ardently. He was fucking you slowly– but at this angle everything felt so intense– enough so that any teasing pretense you’d previously had was quickly washed away beneath constant, steady waves of pleasure. Your toes curled in the air behind him as your thighs quivered and flexed against his chest, but beyond that, you were entirely at his mercy. 

An animalistic sound reverberated from deep within Sebastian’s chest, and his own fingers gripped the sheets on either side of your head. The view he had of you was fucking insane; between the incredible face you were making, the way every thrust sent electric little sparks all throughout the both of you, and the way your cunt tightened around his cock with every deep thrust– he couldn’t help but moan your name, brainless praises falling from his lips whenever he could string the words together. 

“S-Sebastian,” you gasped, shakily riding your hips up against the brunet’s to meet his every thrust with keening moans. “Sebastian, fuck– more, more, please–”

He made a soft, broken sound at that, then shrugged your knees off his shoulders to let them fall into the bends of his elbows instead. Surging forward, he captured your lips with his and slipped his tongue between them, and you took full advantage of the closer proximity by burying your fingers in his messy, brown curls and pulling him impossibly closer. 

With you bent nearly in half this way, your knees almost touched the sheets and in turn gave Sebastian the room to pull back farther and thrust deeper– managing to maintain his steady rhythm and simultaneously drag his cock hard all along your sweet spot. You were positively shaking under him, gasping pretty, noisy little sounds into your shared kiss as you wound your fingers restlessly through his hair and pulled just to have something to hold onto. Sebastian squeezed his eyes shut and pumped his hips harder, his self-control stretched thin by how perfect you were. 

How you looked, how you sounded, how you felt… he wanted more of you– more of the loud, pleading moans that tumbled from your kiss-swollen lips. 

“Gods, darling–” Sebastian leaned down and sank his teeth into the crook of your neck, pressing his body against yours as much as he could. You bucked up against him and cried out at the sharp, sweet sting of your lover’s teeth, your head writhing against the pillows frantically as your hands fisted in his hair so you could press his face encouragingly against your flushed throat. It pulled a brutal groan from Sebastian as he bit harder, sucking yet another dark bruise into your skin, and the sound you made in response was enough to send his mind spinning.

Your voice echoed off the walls of the bedroom, your loud moans and cries of his name falling freely from your lips as Sebastian marked you mercilessly. The ragged sounds coming out of him almost sounded like growls muffled against your throat, and the feeling of being so full had you arching your back clean off the mattress. Your nails raked viciously down his neck and shoulders before digging into his strong biceps, but the sting from the welting lines only served to rile him up further. 

When you threw your head to the side and began shaking, your voice cracking as you wailed for Sebastian in the way that told him you were close, he pulled his arm out from under your trembling thigh to plant his thumb firmly against your clit and began rubbing tight circles against the overly-sensitive bundle of nerves. As he brought you closer to your climax, gasping filthy praises between stuttered moans, Sebastian sped up his pace until he was pounding his cock into you, doing his best to keep you bent at that perfect angle as he did so. Your entire body seemingly snapped off the bed– arched tight and clinging hard to his larger frame as you clawed your nails down his arms– and your airy voice rose higher and transformed into a desperate, overwhelmed scream that cracked and made Sebastian’s brain go completely blank. 

You shook apart entirely in Sebastian’s arms, tight and blindingly hot around his cock, squirming beautifully under him as he fucked you through your orgasm. Your slick coated his shaft as he relentlessly pumped into you, until the thunderous rush of his own climax crashed down around him. Warm, thick ropes of his cum filled you as he emptied himself inside, and Sebastian swore nothing on this Earth could ever hold a candle to how marvelous the feeling was.

He was vaguely aware of himself moaning your name over and over again– stammering out mumbled praises of good, so good darling, fuck. His hands gripped your hips tight as he curled over you and clung to you for dear life while he mouthed brainlessly against your heated skin. It took both of you a few long minutes to come down from your peaks; you with your arm slung over your eyes, and Sebastian slowly wrapping himself tighter and tighter around you to gather you closer. Even once the trembling had subsided, he couldn’t find a good enough reason to move. He twitched his hips back to pull out– mostly for your sake– but that was about all he could manage. 

“Holy shit,” you rasped out after a while, catching Sebastian’s bleary attention. He blinked up at you and watched as you dropped your arm above your head to stare up at the ceiling, and he hungrily took in the steady rise and fall of your bare chest as you caught your breath. 

He snorted softly and dragged his palms along your still shaking thighs– still loosely draped around his waist. “You alright?” There was something to be said about how pleased he was by the low, smokey sound of his own voice, and evidently you were too, considering how it sent more shivers up your spine. You nodded though, tugging at his shoulder to silently urge him closer. 

Sebastian slithered up until he was close enough to catch your lips, allowing you to pull him into a lazy, sated kiss while your fingers combed through his tangled curls. All too graciously, he melted against you– for once not fighting the desire to affectionately trail his knuckles down the line of your jaw. After a few minutes of languid kissing and mindless touching, Sebastian rolled to the side and let you readjust so you were laying on your side with your back to his chest, giving him the chance to wind his arms around your waist and hold you against him. 

He knew he was meant to be keeping you awake leading up to Potions class, but a few minutes of rest wouldn’t hurt. Beyond a herd of Thestrals stampeding through the room, Sebastian sorely doubted that anything could drag him away from this moment with you. He’d waited long enough for it as it was. 

—

After turning your assignment in and sitting through a particularly dreadful lesson for an hour, you’d finally been free’d from the shackles of the education system for the weekend, and you’d quickly found yourself sprawled across Sebastian’s bed with the curtains drawn. You were currently dead asleep and likely to stay that way for a while, but the brunet didn’t mind in the slightest. He wasn’t particularly tired, but he was especially interested in lengthy cuddling with his girlfriend, so he had no problem with the current arrangement. 

With his fingers tangled idly in your sleep-mussed hair, Sebastian watched as the bright streaks of daylight moved across the ceiling while you used his chest as a pillow, far too content to be bothered by how damn long it took to get to this point. 

[undertale-fic-librarby]

Do you know any goods fics that are centred around sans aus without sanscest as a main focus? I don’t have any specific aus in mind

Howdy, thanks for asking! Here are some fics that might fit what you're looking for!

Imprint by AshleyKOMI08 (Mature, Incomplete)

This little skele, a Sans type, is used to taking on whatever title was expected of him. So when the entire multiverse tells him he is a 'Bad Sans' who can really blame him for joining others who fall under this title. That is as long as Nightmare finds him useful. His past titles have left him with a very limited set of skills, knowledge, and expectation. Yet he is willing to give up so much more just to stay. First chapter is NSFW, and then there aren't going to be much until maybe in the future. Plenty of triggers so please tread carefully, I am not used to posting for others to read.

Undertale: Encoded by RainingJewel (Teen And Up, Incomplete)

In a world of countless AUs, two, in particular, impact them significantly more than others. Ink and Error, the Inspiration and the Destroyer. But what happens when a third comes in with the ability to undo their work? Or, better yet, support them?

Broken Grace by KattraBlake (Teen And Up, Complete)

I wrote this on Wattpad a few years ago and decided to bring it over here with a few spelling corrections. A new variation of Healing What Has Been Broken by @harrish6. What if when Error fell someone wasn't willing to let him go alone? What if the family he left behind wasn't willing to give up on him? What if the judges remembered they are not above judgment? Life is never simple especially when truth starts to unwind the tangles of misconception and the pastcomes to light. Can Broken Grace truly give one last painful mercy?

10 Skeletons With 1000 Years to Go by Birds_And_Words (Teen And Up, Incomplete)

Sans has put in the bone work. For fifteen years, he's raised Papyrus. Not even counting the time loop. And now some pretentious ancient bones want to have a say? Oh hell no. - Said "ancient bones" are mortified. How were they supposed to know the short depressed skeleton was barely two decades old?!

the underskelleau by bopsansthesuperior (Teen And Up, Complete)

18 undertale AU skeletons living in one house? great idea! not really. but hey, it's amusing to watch them 'try' to get along with each other. all in all its really just never ending problems and angst. follow our blog for updates https://www.tumblr.com/blog/theunderskelleau *note that we don't own any of these characters except bop sans*

[adelinamoteru]

I have truly never seen so much discourse for a hero/anti-hero that kills until I started liking jason todd. I have literally never seen so many people get hate for not condemning a fictional character who kills bad guys until now its shocking! and I mean that literally

maybe I’m the one missing something but there are plenty of heroes (not antiheroes but HEROES) who exist that choose a lethal method and people take that in stride? the only way I can make sense of this is that people are so attached to batman and his mythos; they literally imprint on him and his thinking ?? and now any slight against him or challenge against his righteousness is taken as if its a slight against them.

at the end of the day, to me, you can still support jason being lethal because the fictional characters hes killing aren’t actually dead. in this sense, specifically, I don’t see why real life morals should be applied to a comic world. he’s not killing out of bigotry and if he was, I would get the controversy! but if you can agree with brutally beating and invasions of privacy in the dcu because it’s “morally correct” within the universe, I can’t see an argument against jason’s methods being morally wrong as valid unless those views are applied to every aspect of batman comics. if we did that, then everyone who continued reading these comics would be getting the same treatment jason todd fans do. ​you cannot hold one character accountable to real life moral views and not the other(s)!

[the-marron]

Shipper Tag Game

Tagged by @forerussake , thank you 🥰

1. What ship were you completely obsessed with when you were a teenager, but now you don't care about anymore?

Hmmm, a hard question right off the bat, because even if I am no longer actively seeking the ship content out anymore, usually I retain a lot of fondness for it, so there are precious few ships I used to be into and that I am simply meh about now, but I think it would be ShikaIno, from Naruto. Canon came at me hard, so while I have some fondness for it, it is what it is, and I am not that much into Naruto anymore either way, so it doesn't hurt much.

2. Which ship would you consider your first one?

Simba/Nala? Lol 😂 but in all seriousness, I think it would be BatCat. Or Aragon/Arwen, I am very hazy on the details when exactly I imprinted on those, the timeline is not clear

3. Your first fanfic was about which couple?

Read or written? Read: no idea, I think it might have been some self-insert into Inuyasha universe? Written: Sirius/Remus

4. Do you remember the first couple you saw fanart of?

Nope. When I discovered the internet I discovered all of it at an alarming pace, but my bet would be on either Sirius/Remus or some couple from W.I.T.C.H

5. Have you ever gotten into ship discourse?

I try not to. I have opinions, yes, and I like discussing them with friends, but I try not to make it anyone's problem - everyone will ship what they want to ship and find different dynamics compelling, so I don't think it necessary to crusade one way or another because one ship is superior to another. It's all very subjective.

6. Did you use to have any NOTP or have one currently?

I have quite a bit! Funnily enough I have some canon ships I absolutely dislike and can go off about whenever I catch a poor, innocent victim to listen to my rant.

But my general rule is that I don't like OT3s. In any fandom, in any form, it's just not for me at all. To make matters worse, I am a monoshipper at heart, which usually means that I have a dynamic/ship that I like with characters A and B, and it makes me lose interest in all the other configurations with them. So maybe not an active NoTP but very unlikely for me to read A/C if I committed myself to A/B.

Special shout out to Weilanzun, because this is my most recently acquired NOTP.

And to Batman/Talia Al Ghul which is my longest reigning one.

7. Who were the couple in the last fanfic you read?

Zhou Ying/Bai Ling from Tai Sui 🥺 my poor white half-demon, hopelessly devoted to his prince... And so few fics with them ;_;

8. Currently, do you have any OTPs?

Plenty. I don't abandon old ones, I just collect them together in my jar of ships and rattle it from time to time, to see how they sparkle together.

But from my most recent and long-term commitments: Weilan, Luolin, Heixie, Luo Qingeng/Jiang Yang (do they have a name???) and BatCat, forever and ever

9. Is there any couple that, to this day, you are extremely mad about not getting together?

Well, the story is a story, so as long as it makes sense that these characters do not end up together, then I am okay with it, that's what we have fanfiction for, right?

BUT

I am still not over that wedding stunt DC Comics pulled with BatCat. Months of teasing, of promising the wedding, the freaking wedding albums being released and then the WEDDING DIDN'T HAPPEN. They broke up instead because Batman has to be the dark, sad, lonely something something and you can't be a hero if you have a wife. 50 years and DC Comics is going backwards in this regard :/

10. Is there any ship you used to dislike but now you think they are kind of interesting?

Not sure? Nothing comes to mind. But I am very open to being pulled into/converted into ships as long as they are not on my black list, and even then I try to keep an open mind, in case something clicks.

11. Do you have any ship that, in the past, would've been considered normal but now you would be cancelled over?

Hah, a lot, because I got into shipping as a teenager. So reading romances about other teenagers felt normal and all but now I don't feel the need to revisit them.

12. What is your favorite crack ship?

Ha. Not today, Satan. One moment I am joking about a crack ship and the next I have 10k words written about it and like 3 sad headcanons and a shipping chart ready.

13. What is the couple you read the most fanfics about?

Oh wow, good question. If I like a ship, then I tend to read through the entire Ao3 tag of theirs, sometimes more than once because what if I missed some gem in the first go? So it would come down to the sheer numbers of fics, I think. So that would be either Sterek, Stucky or Eames/Arthur (fun fact: this is also the first fandom that introduced to me the concept of derivs)

14. What do most of your ships usually have in common?

Devotion. Very often the conflict between their feelings and their duties/ loyalty towards something they cared about before they met the other.

I like both sides of the ship to be competent at their respective fields and torn apart by their own choices and priorities. The 'I love you but do I love you enough to abandon everything I am'?. I like both answers more or less equally: both the 'yes, it's us against the world now' and 'I hope we won't meet on the battlefield' are set ups I enjoy immensely. But I also like smart-asses annoying each other into marriage one witty comeback at a time.

15. What you absolutely hate in a ship?

Imbalance of attachment. If the ship seems terribly one-sided, like one character is putting in all of the work and tries and tries, and tries while the other mercifully sometimes acknowledges them, then it's a no for me.

Same with the 'if you patiently wait for this person to like you, even though they told you 10 times they won't, then they eventually will' trope, like someone's love is what you earn through steadiness and hard-work.

I like both parts to be equally unwell about their partner, one way or another. They can be sickeningly domestic and gushing, or they can be crazy in that 'no one defeats him, but me!' kind of way, but they have to be in balance on the insanity scale. I like when characters grow into their relationship and both affect one another, falling more and more in love with each other as they go, but not when one person is a prize the other has to win/outwait/earn.

Thanks again for the tag, that was a nice bit of soul-searching there, very fun 👌😌

Tagging: @baiyubai , @babischlong-six , @mjsakurea, @mejomonster, @elenothar

[pikachugirltits]

Universes Beyond: Spider-Man Set Speculation/Wishlist

Well, now that we've actually got a name for the first Marvel set and the surprise reveal that it's entirely Spider-Man centric, I figure it's time for a new round of idle speculation (and maybe some slight wishlist choices.) Without further delay:

So now we know that instead of a wide ranging grab bag approach to the sets we're getting a more focused approach to the sets. This definitely explains why it's multiple sets. With the first set being Spider-Man, I think it's entirely reasonable to assume that we'll get a X-Men set and an Avengers set as well. I also think we could possibly get two more sets as well. The first would be a set focused on the space/cosmic side of the Marvel setting, with the set probably being named Guardians of the Galaxy for marketing purposes (although Captain Marvel or Fantastic Four are also possibilities.) The other would be based on the magical/supernatural side of Marvel and could either be named Doctor Strange or Midnight Sons.

(As an aside to the last point, this also explains their desire to increase the rate of UB set releases to 2 per year, to help release the Marvel sets in closer proximity. If they're smart, they'll alternate between non-Marvel and Marvel UB sets so that people who like UB but don't like Marvel will have something to look forward to, like how we're getting the Final Fantasy set next year.)

I think with the set being Spider-Man centric we'll get multiple cards representing the main 616 Peter Parker version of Spider-Man. However, I don't think we'll hit "6 Gandalfs" levels of this. I think the main set will have 2-3 Peter Parker Spider-Man cards and an additional one or two in one of the Commander decks. The main set will definitely have a card that's just the default, most iconic version of Spider-Man and will very, very likely have a symbiote suit Spider-Man card as well. We could also possibly get an Iron Spider card or a card for that time when Peter started turning into a full spider hybrid, but those aren't as certain in my opinion.

Of course, with the Spider-Verse stuff there's plenty of other Spider-People that could get cards. Miles Morales is a definite shoe-in, and I can even see him getting multiple cards even if it's just a main set and separate Commander deck version. Spider-Gwen/Ghost Spider is another easy choice that could also get two cards this way. And Miguel O'Hara/Spider-Man 2099 is another strong possibility.

As for other Spider-Verse characters, I wouldn't be surprised if they slightly prioritize the characters that played big roles in the Spider-Verse movies. While WotC has stated that the sets are based on the comics over other sources, I do think that stuff like the MCU (or in this case, the Spider-Verse movies) will have some slight influence on what characters get prioritized. So I think of all the many Spider-Man variants we'll see, I think Spider-Man Noir, Peni Parker and SP//dr, Spider-Punk, Pavitr Prabhakar Spider-Man and maybe Spider-Ham might be prioritized over some of the other Spider-Verse characters.

That said, I really, really hope we get a Spiders-Man card (you know, the Spider-Man variant that's a swarm of spiders controlled by a hive mind that's a psychic imprint of Peter Parker.)

Of course, there's plenty of Spider-Man characters who aren't Spider-Verse related. As far as allies, I think we could easily see cards for Aunt May, MJ, Black Cat, Spider-Woman, Scarlet Spider, Silk.

J. Jonah Jameson needs to get a card. I've seen a lot of jokes about him giving Spiders menace (and Spider-Man and other Spider-People having the creature type "Human Spider Hero" so it would work) but personally I think he should have some mechanic that involves Clue tokens to represent him running a newspaper.

While the set will probably be Spider-Man centric, I don't think it'll only be Spider-Man. I think we'll get some Spider-Man adjacent heroes too, to help diversify things a bit. The Defenders are the most obvious first choice for this. They're fellow New York based street level heroes, Spider-Man has worked with them before, and they just kind of fit the vibes.

I think the Champions are also a potential source of non-Spider-Man heroes since Miles Morales was a member.

Possibly we could see the Fantastic Four here, but they could be saved for the theoretical space themed set instead.

Of course there are plenty of villains we could see. I can see a lot of the most well known and popular villains like Doctor Octopus, Green Goblin, and Venom getting multiple cards between main set and Commander decks.

I once saw someone suggest the idea of getting Sagas for various iconic storylines, which I think is an excellent idea. I don't actually read comics (I mostly know these characters from various adaptations and knowing comic readers) so I can't really speculate too much on what storylines we could see, but I definitely feel like The Clone Saga could easily be one of them.

I think we should have two cards that synergize with each other called Great Power and Great Responsibility.

Definitely need Web Shooters as an Equipment, probably have it grant reach and maybe an ability that puts stun counters on creatures.

Honestly, wouldn't be surprised to see multiple cards that flavor stun counters as enemies being webbed up.

I wonder if we could see symbiotes flavored as Enchantment Creatures with Bestow. Maybe not necessarily the named symbiotes like Venom and Carnage because their cards could be flavored as them bonded with their usual hosts, but maybe one or two generic symbiote cards could do that.

If not for the fact that it would involve negotiating additional licensing agreements, I would love to see a card for Japanese Spider-Man and his mech Leopardon.

[plasticmantalk]

I find it both funny and odd that there’s only been one official elastic “Stretch Armstrong”-type toy for Plastic Man, made in 1979*

I also find it off that he was given a solid skin-colored piece (with his chest design imprinted) with some clothing, and not fully colored red.

I can understand going with a single color (even if ole’ Armstrong himself seemed to get painted trunks.) Other characters of the day had similar things happen to them. Spider-Man was red, Superman blue, Batman grey, etc.

But I’m curious as to why Plastic Man himself wasn’t fully red. Would’ve looked better than fully skin-toned I feel, and heck all red isn’t too far off from some of the looks you’ll see sometimes, either by mistake or actual redesign attempts.

I mean, it would make sense right? His costume is mostly red, I don’t know if kids would have minded if his legs weren’t skin toned. Maybe it looked awkward if he just had a belt accessory? I’m not sure, and it doesn’t matter much nowadays I suppose. These days you can find stretchy heroes with multiple colors and designs. DC in fact currently has “Goo Jit Zu” figures with plenty of heroes and villains like Batman, Cyborg, Riddler, and Green Lantern to name a few. But curiously, no Plastic Man.

As DC’s premier stretching/elastic character, you’d think they’d capitalize on that fact and at least make a few more. But I guess he’s not popular enough, alas.

Most Plastic Man toys and figures will have to remain hard plastic with swappable and “extendable” features, as in there’s a cavity in the body that holds and extra long neck. Closest except is when there’s a “bendy” feature, aka wire over rubber.

Hopefully one day we’ll get a Plastic Man elastic toy again!

[snekdood]

gonna be very annoyed if ppl insist on tryna turn all 5 of my dude characters into women when the majority of other characters in my comic already identify as women

[bluwavez]

˗ ˋ 🌊    DEEPDIVE   ﹕   TRY TO UNDERSTAND    !

❝I am both happy and sad at the same time, and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be.❞                         ―  Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower

CHARACTERS :   NOAH SON  …   BAE KIWOO 

WORDS : 3.1K

WARNINGS / NOTES : Noah's working through something. Suggestive (?) They kiss. Briefest discussion about sex. Crying. Minor Selfharm mention, it's nothing graphic. Figuring out sexuality. If I missed anything please let me know! I wrote something more than 1K!! Woo!!

Noah takes a shaky breath as Kiwoo sits in front of him on his bedroom floor. Noah has his back against Kiwoo’s bed, knees bent up to his chest with space between them. His cheeks are wet and his headaches from how hard he’s trying to not make a sound as he cries. Noah knows he sounds pathetic when he cries.

Kiwoo watches him, round eyes scanning over the elder’s face before settling on Noah’s hands. They’re balled into tight fists, hard and heavy beneath Kiwoo’s palms. Kiwoo is gentle, rubbing his palms over the top of Noah’s fists, taking a breath through his nose as he does so. There’s a lump in his throat, one that weighs heavy and makes him unable to talk. He knows what he wants to say but he just can’t do it.

Moonlight seeps through Noah’s window being the only source of light in the room. It makes Kiwoo’s pale skin glow, making him look like a beacon of light in front of him. He honestly reminds Noah of a siren. A siren who has yet to sing to him but is calling him with his eyes. Noah’s too scared to go, he’s too scared to move, he’s too scared to do anything. He just stays and lets Kiwoo rub his hands against Noah’s.

“You’re so tense,” Kiwoo whispers, flipping his hands over slowly by his wrists so Noah’s clenched hands face upwards. “You don’t have to be with me.”

“I know,” Noah whispers, looking at how Kiwoo’s hands wrap around his wrists. His hands are small compared to Noah but everyone is small compared to Noah. Noah sniffles.

“It’s not easy for me.”

“That’s okay,” Kiwoo whispers, his doe eyes watching Noah’s face so that he’s the first thing he sees when he looks up. “It’s not for a lot of people.”

“I–” Noah stops himself, swallowing down what he was going to say before looking up at Kiwoo. Kiwoo stares back at him, gaze soft and patient like it always is. Kiwoo is so gentle, Noah thinks. His hands slowly release the nothingness they were holding onto so harshly. 

Kiwoo’s gaze drops to watch Noah’s fingers unlatch from what they desperately held onto, seeing the red imprint of where his nails dug into and broke the skin. The sight makes him swallow, gaze flickering back up to Noah’s face. Slowly, Kiwoo lowers his head, never breaking eye contact with Noah as he does so, pressing his lips to fresh cuts on his palm.

Noah watches closely, feeling his heart rattle in his chest harder and harder with each passing move, wondering what Kiwoo will do next. The younger lifts his head, moving himself closer to Noah to where he’s just between his legs but not close enough to be chest to chest.

Noah can feel the urging for that inside of him. He wants to hold Kiwoo by his waist, he wants to feel his body pressed against his own, he wants to know how soft his skin is beneath his palms, he wants to feel his l—Noah has to stop himself. He’s never let himself indulge in the thought of kissing a boy even though he’s thought about it plenty of times.

It’s just a thought he’d push down by finding a girl to kiss. Something is keeping him from ever going further than just a second thought of a boy's lips against his, he doesn’t know what it is but it scares him. It scares him deeply, actually.

Slowly, Kiwoo takes one of Noah’s hands and places it on his cheek. It’s not like they haven’t touched each other before, they’re quite touchy now that Noah thinks about it but not like this. Never like this.

Noah feels himself stiffen up slightly, feeling Kiwoo’s soft and dewy skin beneath his stinging palm. He just washed his face, Noah can feel the moisturizer still seeping into Kiwoo’s already glass-like skin. Noah swallows, keeping himself still and waiting for Kiwoo to make all the moves. It’s better that way, he thinks, then there’s no room for him to mess up.

Though he already feels like he’s messing like he’s doing something wrong. 

There’s nothing wrong with being gay. Noah knows that and he firmly believes that. He was taught to love everyone even if they’re different than you and that’s what he did, what he still does. He loves everybody unless given a reason not to. That’s all Noah thought the feelings were, just love. 

It wasn’t until he got older did he think maybe it was a different kind of love but he always swallowed it down. In a way, he used Kiwoo to soothe the pestering feelings. Kiwoo is always there, Kiwoo always wanted to hold his hand, look at him like he was the only person in the room, and fall asleep on his chest. While doing those little things with Kiwoo helped quell the confusing feelings inside him, it also made them louder.

Why did he like holding Kiwoo so much? Why did he play with his hair well after he went to sleep? Why is it so easy for him to talk to Kiwoo about his feelings when he can barely get the words out to the girls he’s supposed to be in love with? Noah doesn’t understand. He can’t stand not understanding.

“I’m…I think I’m scared,” Noah whispers, causing Kiwoo to nod in understanding. 

“That’s okay,” Kiwoo whispers as he slowly puts his hand on Noah’s chest right over where his heart hammers in his chest, confirming for Kiwoo that it is a really big moment for the boy in front of him. “It’s okay to be scared, Noah. I won’t hurt you,” Kiwoo assures as he presses his hand harder against his chest, pulling himself to be in between Noah’s legs fully with their chests bumping together.

Noah nods as Kiwoo takes his face into his hands. His hands are soft like they always are. Kiwoo’s touch always did something to Noah that he’s never been able to explain. He felt warm and safe all at the same time. It feels rare for Noah to feel completely safe, especially with another person around. Only a few hold that honor but Kiwoo is the only one still around.

Kiwoo strokes Noah’s cheeks lovingly, his thumbs tracing circles around his cheekbones as he watches his face. Noah still isn’t looking at him, his eyes cast downwards to lock on Kiwoo’s chest. Kiwoo feels his large hands move to his waist, making him smile warmly at Noah even if he doesn’t look at him.

“Noah,” Kiwoo whispers, feeling his own heart beginning to pound in his chest. Noah slowly adverts his gaze to Kiwoo, stuttering on his own breathing. Noah feels like he’s about to cry again, his eyes shimmer, and his bottom lip trembles softly. Noah takes a deep breath, blinking up at Kiwoo as he holds tighter onto his waist.

“Can I kiss you?” Kiwoo asks softly, staying still as he waits for the other’s answer. “You can say no,” Kiwoo quickly adds but his voice never raises in volume. Noah squeezes Kiwoo’s waist again, swallowing thickly before slowly nodding.

Kiwoo cups his cheeks when he leans in, slowly and cautiously pressing his lips to Noah’s. The kiss is gentle and soft, it feels like something Noah has never experienced before because it is. He’s never kissed a boy let alone like this before. There are so many emotions flooding through Noah’s body, he can’t keep up with how he feels. He doesn’t know how he feels.

Noah feels hot like a great inferno has been set off inside him and is consuming his entire being. It makes him lean in, pressing his lips harder against Kiwoo’s. The other moves with him, holding onto Noah’s face a bit tighter as he begins to move his lips against his. It’s like something snaps in Noah and he can’t control himself anymore, pulling Kiwoo flush against his chest and pushing Kiwoo on his back, following him immediately afterward. Kiwoo only gasps slightly at the change in positions but welcomes it eagerly, wrapping his arms around Noah’s neck to keep him close as Noah slots himself between Kiwoo’s legs as if he belongs there.

If Noah’s being honest, kissing Kiwoo is like kissing a girl but better. It fills that yearning he swears he’s been feeling for years at this point. His lungs feel like they’re about to explode but he can’t pull himself away from Kiwoo’s lips, he doesn’t want to. For the first time in his life, Noah feels like he’s made the right choice. 

Noah pulls away to gasp for air, letting his head fall on Kiwoo’s chest as it rises and falls. Kiwoo puts a hand in Noah’s black locks, running his fingers through them. The touch sends shivers down Noah’s spine, filling him with the urge to kiss Kiwoo all over. He wants to know what every inch of his body feels like beneath his lips. He’s never felt a craving so strong before in his life.

Noah doesn’t even think before lifting his head and attaching his lips to Kiwoo’s neck. Kiwoo’s back arches into Noah’s, fingers tightening in his hair with a soft moan at how messily Noah presses his lips against his skin. He’s eager and sloppy but Kiwoo doesn’t care––If he’s being honest, he likes it that way. Noah is reeks of inexperience but desperately wants to learn and Kiwoo can’t get enough of it. He wants to teach Noah everything.

“Noah,” Kiwoo gasps when the elder bites the tender skin of his neck, digging his heels into his carpet. “Take–Take my shirt off if you’re going to leave marks,” Kiwoo tells him between pants, smoothing his hair down Noah lifts his head with a nod. Noah pushes the fabric of Kiwoo’s loose shirt up to reveal his toned torso. Noah’s seen that shirt before on a different boy, maybe Jisung or Woojin but he knows it isn’t Kiwoo’s.

“This isn’t your shirt.”

“It’s not yours either,” Kiwoo quips without missing a beat, making Noah smile softly at the boy before dropping his head on Kiwoo’s chest. Kiwoo digs his nails into Noah’s broad shoulders when he feels his lips drag across the canvas of his chest, breathing heavily every time Noah’s lips venture too far down.

Noah nips and bites at the skin above Kiwoo’s ribs just to hear the sounds he makes. They’re airy and quiet but loud enough to make Noah’s dick twitch in his pants. It shouldn’t shock him half as much that this is turning him on, not after all the various types of porn he’s consumed over the years. Why this revelation is even somewhat shocking to him is only shocking to Noah.

“I want–” Noah stops himself as he lifts his head, he’s silenced by Kiwoo pushing his hair back without missing a beat. It’s so natural like it’s second nature for him. Noah feels his words stuck in his throat, swallowing thickly as his eyes scan over Kiwoo’s face. Kiwoo raises his brows, keeping his gaze on Noah’s lips before his pretty round eyes flicker to Noah’s.

“Want to what, Noe?” Kiwoo whispers, stroking his cheek sweetly before resting on the side of his neck. Noah just stares at Kiwoo, eyes wide yet hazy. Kiwoo is a boy. A pretty boy. Noah feels nervous again, making him swallow thickly, blinking at Kiwoo with a deep breath.

“I want…to kiss you.” Kiwoo smiles at how he asks, he sounds nervous but it fills him with joy that he asked. Kiwoo nods, batting his lashes at Noah with a hum.

“You can kiss me,” Kiwoo tells him with a smile, bundling the boy’s shirt in his fists. “Can I take your shirt off?” 

Kiwoo doesn’t think it hurts to ask. Noah laughs quietly before nodding. Kiwoo smiles brightly to pull his shirt over his head, licking his lips when Noah’s muscular torso is on display just for Kiwoo. It’s just them in Noah’s room but it feels like they’re the only two people in the world. Kiwoo pushes Noah’s hair back and out of his face, smiling when he sees the boy clearly. Noah can’t stop himself from smiling down at Kiwoo, dipping down and pressing their lips together. 

Kiwoo hums into Noah’s mouth, running his hands down the expanse of his back and feeling the muscles ripple beneath his fingers. Noah pulls back, eyes shut with a sigh as their noses brush against each other. Kiwoo watches Noah’s face, finally seeing him look at peace. He rubs the back of Noah’s neck, making his head drop on his chest. 

There’s a quiet that washes over the room, filling both of them with a blissful peace that has never graced their house. Kiwoo thinks the new house is haunted; he's not sure by what but there’s something dark in it, something that makes it feel empty. He wishes it didn’t feel that way. For the first time, he feels like the group is whole again but their home is so empty. He doesn’t understand.

“Are we, um,” Kiwoo looks around with a deep breath, “Do you want to fuck me, Noah?” Kiwoo is always crass when it comes to things like this. He sees no point in being indirect especially when Noah already seems confused enough. 

Noah lifts his head with a sigh, blinking up at Kiwoo almost looking stunned Kiwoo would ask. The stunned look on Noah’s face makes Kiwoo blink back at him, a silent look of confusion.

“I’m getting mixed signals here.”

“Sorry. Sorry–Um…I don’t know how to do that.”

Kiwoo feels his lips quirk up in a smile as a laugh begins to slither from his throat. Noah laughs softly, making Kiwoo let his laughter out. The pair laugh together quietly, Kiwoo covering his mouth with the back of his hand. Noah shakes his head between chuckles, looking down at Kiwoo before pressing his face into the other’s shoulder.

“We don’t have to fuck,” Kiwoo hums as he wraps his arms around Noah’s waist, eyes fluttering shut. The carpet is coarse beneath him, unwelcoming against his weight but he doesn’t care. He would lay on a bed of rocks to keep the feeling of Noah on top of him.

Noah is so warm and heavy, putting just enough weight on him that it feels like he can’t breathe properly but not like he’s suffocating. He completely covers him like a weighted blanket he never wants to take off. Kiwoo has always liked Noah, loved him even, but he never thought they’d end up here together.

If Kiwoo is being honest, he’s lonely. It’s been so long since someone he’s genuinely liked has touched him that Noah’s touch feels like a brisk breeze of a hot day. He’s almost forgotten what it’s felt like to like the people you’re kissing. That’s his own doing he assumes. He should put his phone away after 1 AM so he stops making questionable decisions out of loneliness.

“I can feel your dick against my thigh so I thought I’d offer,” Kiwoo says nonchalantly with a shrug, playing it off like he did everything. Noah thinks Kiwoo is so cool. He wishes he didn’t care about things like Kiwoo appeared to. “Doesn’t matter to me. I just like having you around.”

“Really?” Noah sounds shocked. Kiwoo tilts his head at him like he’s dumb because the question is dumb.

“We’ve been friends for eight years, Noah.”

“This isn’t friend stuff,” Noah points out and Kiwoo just hums because he’s not wrong. This isn’t what friends do. Still, that doesn’t quell the urge in either of them to kiss again.

“I–I don’t think I can fuck you,” Noah admits. Kiwoo shrugs like it’s nothing but there’s a wave of disappointment in his chest. “Yet. Maybe one day…I don’t know.”

“Don’t move too fast,” Kiwoo tells him seriously but his voice is still gentle, “just take your time with this. It’s all about you.” Noah smiles softly at those words. It’s been a while since it’s been all about him. Usually, Noah takes care of other people. That’s how it's always been. In a way, he’s always been a co-leader in the group. He takes care of everyone and expects nothing in return.

It feels good to be taken care of for once.

“Can we lay down? On the bed?” Noah asks. Kiwoo nods, lifting himself on his elbows as Noah climbs off of him and onto Kiwoo’s bed. Kiwoo follows shortly after, burying himself under his blankets and wrapping his arms around Noah’s torso. Noah easily wraps his arms around Kiwoo, shutting his eyes peacefully. Everything is so calm when they’re like this.

“We do this a lot,” Kiwoo blurts after a few beats of silence, lifting his head slightly to look at Noah whose head rests on his pillow.

 “We sleep together a lot. You hold me a lot too. You never thought…Maybe you liked boys?” Kiwoo wonders genuinely. 

Kiwoo has always known he’s gay. He’s never looked at a woman and felt romantic feelings towards her. When he was younger and all his friends got girlfriends, he decided to get one too. Subin. She was sweet and quiet, they were friends before they started “dating” if you could even call it that. The furthest they went was a peck on the lips that just didn’t feel right. That was the confirmation for him but deep down he always knew.

Subin knew too apparently. Everyone else assumed as well. Kiwoo didn’t appreciate that part but he can’t blame them he supposes.

Noah shakes his head, watching Kiwoo before stroking his cheek softly with the pad of his finger. 

“I just…I don’t know. I love you. You’re my best friend. I thought best friends did this kind of stuff,” Noah admits with a small shrug as Kiwoo listens to every word. 

“I love everyone like this.”

That sends a pang of aching through Kiwoo’s chest but he ignores it. He’s not the only one Noah treats like this, he knows that, but it still makes him unbearably jealous inside. Kiwoo nods, his finger tracing shapes on Noah’s bicep.

“You don’t do this with Finn, do you?”

Noah shakes his head, making a face.

“I do it with Yebin though. We don’t kiss or anything but we sleep together and stuff,” Noah shrugs as Kiwoo feels another wave of jealousy rush over him. It’s an internal battle to not sigh in annoyance.

“I’m the only one you kiss, right?” Kiwoo’s brows raise the question. Noah chuckles softly, making Kiwoo smile at him. Noah cups the boy’s cheeks, pulling him closer so their noses are touching.

“You’re the only one,” Noah whispers, “I promise.”

[moonlightif]

moonlight is a twilight inspired interactive novel where you play as the oldest swan child after they get attacked by a werewolf at a party and all the chaos that ensures afterward.

warnings: violence, gore, suggestive content, anxiety, torture, animal attack, animal violence, mentions of sexual assault/rape, mentions of attempted suicide, murder. I want to be safe rather than sorry when it comes to the warnings, so if you got any you want me to add, lmk. 17+. Since some of these characters are underage, nsfw questions are not welcome.

disclaimer: there are going to be differences between this and canon twilight. for example: there are real werewolves (not shape shifters) and it's not the whole quileute tribe nor is it tied to the proximity of vampires. jasper was not confederate. while the cullens are a found family, they're not paired up like that (I always found that weird), except for esme and carlisle. imprinting is not a thing. the characters are not gonna be exactly the same: I wanna give them nuances and explore them. the list goes on. please keep this in mind going forward and ask whatever questions you may have.

after endlessly enduring the constant chaos that was your mother's wanderlust, you (and your reluctant and sullen younger sibling) move from your temporary home in arizona to stable and boring forks. it's the perfect opportunity to reconnect with your estranged dad, get ready for college, and maybe be able to relax and take a breath for once.

unfortunately, forks isn't as boring as it appears. after you and a group of friends are attacked at a late night party at la push, everything changes. literally, you begin to physically change into a creature you never could've dreamed existed. and it only gets weirder from there.

☆ semi customizable mc (appearance, certain personality traits, hobbies, style, etc.)

☆ six ro routes (there'll be a poll to determine between certain ros cause I can't decide [I'm a libra, not my fault])

☆ navigate your new life as a werewolf!

☆ discover the who and why you and your friends were attacked.

☆ keep your new abilities (and affliction) a secret....or not.

☆ meet other supernaturals in your area (because there are plenty).

emmett or edward or jasper

Tba when decided

rosalie or alice

Tba when decided

jessica stanley

5'2ft | seventeen | human | genderfluid (she/they)

from the get go, jessica has been attached to you by the hip. whether it is out of curiosity or (what you suspect) jealousy, it doesn't really matter to you all that much. her bubbly and talkative presence has made the transition of living in forks much easier and for that, at least, you are grateful. that being said, the close eye they have been keeping on you might come to bite you in the ass here soon. after all, you've got a new secret to keep.

mike newton

6'0ft | seventeen | werewolf | cis male (he/him)

you caught mike's eye from the moment you stepped onto the scene. you figured, like with most people's fascination of you and your sister, it was based on the "newness" of you more than anything else. regardless, he's funny and kind and not a bad friend to have. he's also the one who invited you to the bonfire at the beach and was there during the attack. now, you can both bond over shared trauma and your new furry forms.

jacob black or embry call

Tba when decided

leah clearwater

5'11ft | nineteen | werewolf | cis female (she/her)

when you spent your childhood summers at charlie's, hanging out with your (self appointed) bff was a definite highlight, if not the best part. despite her mock reluctantance, you both were like two peas in a pod. but that was before you stopped visiting, text messages got left on read, and the distance between the two of you became too big to close. moving to forks, you were hoping to reconnect, but leah has seemed uninterested. after everything that has happened...well, now you have something to bond over.

charlie swan

6'0ft | forty five | (gifted) human | cis male (he/him)

reserved, quiet, and awkward. your father has been like that since before you could remember. and though it's difficult to tell at times, you think he's happy to have you and izzy in his life. more permanently, at least.

isabella "izzy" swan

5'5ft | fifteen | (gifted) human | bigender (they/them)

your sullen, gothic younger sibling. while they hated constantly having their life uprooted when living with their mother, they have mixed feelings about moving to forks. the place is a vibe, but there is nothing fun to do. or so they think.

demo (tba) ☆ faqs ☆ ros ask ☆ side characters ☆ lore ☆ inspo

[seeingteacupsindragons]

Something that (I think) is interesting right now is contemplating how different media I have really been into and analyzing affects my writing, and what kinds of things I take from it.

Because, sure, plenty of times tropes or whatnot filter in, and that's cool, but...

Well.

When I was first discovering JR and ended up writing something that felt very much like it (to me), what I focused on wasn't...y'know, boss/employee relationships or gems or any of that.

The way JR really affected my writing (and still does) is that I want to explore different kinds of relationships even more in different ways and beyond categories. It inspired me to think of motifs and symbols and themes and really carry them through on objects and tie character to things like that.

If you've read or watched JR, you know that very often the Meaning of a gemstone in the story and many of its properties are reflected in the themes of the story it’s contained it and often its owner. That is really what I took and ran with.

I've been wondering for a long while what YuuMori would look like when I wrote something like it, because mystery and detective fiction really isn't my bag. A lot of YuuMori's tropes and genre conventions were unlikely to work in anything I did. And I think maybe a lot of people won't see the inspiration.

But as I make notes and start this book, I see in it what fascinates me about YuuMori. I am making decisions about how events are placed and structured and initiated, what story scaffolding holds up certain events, and how to imprint them through layers of the story. I'm considering how to make things complicated and make twist common tropes and concepts to make them deeper, to make them mean more.

For instance: These two characters meet, which is of course a interruption and change to their daily routine and what they're in the middle of. But, the things they're being interrupted from are also representing the kind of disruption and change they'll bring to each other's lives as a whole.

And that's not the kind of thing I used to really consider. It's thinking about a way to structure a story and arrange events so that everything has even greater meaning and can be connected in new ways.

And I think YuuMori really brought that to me writing, and I'm grateful.

So I don't know, really, if my being inspired and influenced by things I read works the way people expect it to or would expect to see. But this is the way my brain kinda works.

And I think this might be part of the reason why so many recs people try to give me fall a little (or a lot) flat: they'll be like "this genre and trope and tone are like this other thing you like" but nah, that's (often) not why I'm here. I'm here because of how it's all stitched together.

[fzzr]

I Can't Stop Comparing Things to How to Raise a Boring Girlfriend

Starting in August 2022 I began a long marathon of catching up on my anime backlog. The second show I watched was Saenai Heroine no Sodatekata (How to Raise a Boring Girlfriend, henceforth Saekano). At the time, I had only watched the first season, so this was me re-watching that and catching up on the rest. I was not ready for what happened next. A saucy show about making a visual novel while surrounded by hot chicks made a sudden turn into an emotionally devastating story about growing as an artist and how easy it is for people to hurt one another and much more. It was powerful. It both made me need to stop and take a look at myself and stay up until 2AM to finish it. I need to talk about it.

A note on the title: "heroine" here is officially translated "girlfriend", but a more useful translation would be "main female love interest".

Summary

Our male viewpoint character, Tomoya Aki, has a fateful encounter with a girl that inspires him to create a galge around her. He recruits his two very talented classmates, artist Eriri Spencer Sawamura and writer Utaka Kasumigaoka. When he realizes that his muse is actually the hopelessly normal Megumi Katou, he resolves to bring her into the circle anyway.

With this premise out of the way, the show kicks off a harem story. The core plotline keeps the count of ladies stable at three. When a fourth is introduced as his cousin late in season 1 and the OH NO alerts go off, don't worry - this has not become an incest anime, she's just here to help with the actual plot. The amount of fanservice is significant, but it's not the sole focus of the show. Had it continued like this, it would have been a well-executed example of the genre and probably sat at 8/10.

But then season 2 happens, and the game comes out in time for Comiket... barely. Things didn't go as well as they could have, and not everyone is quite satisfied with the result. There were even some emotional bruises along the way. Tomoya resolves to give it another shot. At this point... well I don't want to spoil things in detail. This is the moment where Saekano takes a hard left turn into drama. It starts artistically managing the viewer's understanding of each character's point of view. It uses indirection and suspense to build up to one emotional gut punch after another. It allows the characters, and you, to wallow in the impact of what happens. It moves the theme of artistic fulfillment from background to front and center.

From here, I went from merely enjoying myself to absolutely hooked. In many harem shows you can find yourself writhing in pain as it draws out every possible step of progress and then snatches them back. In Saekano, you instead feel genuinely worried, deep down, that things will not work out at all and everyone will be left broken into pieces or incomplete. There are twists - but they're not bullshit romcom twists to make things worse for no reason. Characters hurt each other, unnecessarily and unintentionally but sometimes necessarily and knowingly. No one is forgiven for free. When things do get better, they leave scars. There are antagonists, but even characters who act like heels get empathy and you come to understand them, if not agree with their actions.

Wait, I need to talk about the characters more.

Tomoya enters the picture as the character for the male target audience to imprint on. Eriri is a tsundere with all the option boxes checked - twintails, S-class absolute territory, relatively short, modestly endowed. Utaka is cool, collected, cunning, and cutting. You know the type, she never forgets a slight and makes sure you don't either. Megumi is... um. Megumi is... well she's uh... huh. You riffle through all your binders full of women and she's nowhere to be found. Dandere? No, she's plenty willing to speak her mind when needed. Kuudere? I mean sorta, she knows how to deploy sarcasm, but it's not like she's an ice queen.

No, Megumi, as introduced, is a nothing in particular. How can you base a story on a character without a trope to use as a foundation? Tomoya is at a loss, and if you are used to nothing but remixes of *deres in assorted hair colors and slightly different school uniforms, you are too. I guess instead of stamping a label on her, you're just going to need to get to know her. So let's try.

In many stories, you get to know a character and then you get to see them change. Indeed, that's what happens with every character in Saekano - except Megumi. Eriri has trouble drawing her, because you can't see all of her at once. Instead, like the characters in the show, you have to pull together what you do see and create an image of a complete whole in your mind. You turn to compare your model to the original and... it's a bit off. She's changed. Indeed, she has been changing since the beginning. Even your starting snapshot is a bit blurred. Megumi doesn't move too fast to catch up to - but she is always moving, so you can't quite hold on to what you catch.

Megumi is nothing in particular. Instead, she's herself. Kind but not endlessly selfless. Tolerant but not without limits. Influence from others doesn't fill her like some empty vessel, it just adds to what was already there. Neither clay nor brick, neither water nor ice, not a mere object of affection nor a prize to be won. Megumi Kato is nothing in particular, just like you and I aren't anything in particular either. We're just people.

What is love?

Saekano doesn't believe in love at first sight. You aren't destined for someone just because you saw them from the bottom of a hill. It then spends two seasons and a movie teaching us, and its characters, what it thinks love actually is.

Saekano says love isn't an event, nor a straight road from one place to another. It's not even a maze, with many branching paths but one entrance and exit. Life is a forest, and everyone stumbles through the forest in their own way. You may walk together with someone for a time - but when your paths diverge you will find that love is more than being together. Love is when you change your paths and come together. Your paths are still your own - but you stay close enough to hold hands. Love is knowing whose hand you want to hold.

Conclusion

Saekano is not perfect. There are some weak points, even once the fanservice mostly ends in favor of drama. There are a couple of potentially heart-wrenching twists that turn out to be joke setups, which can hurt your trust a bit. The big theme of personal growth in your art does tie into the romance plot, but they don't blend entirely seamlessly. Early on Tomoya does fulfill some of the tropes of "why does anyone like this guy in the first place," which can be off-putting if your tolerance for that kind of shitty protagonist is low. I assure you that this time, the reason he starts low is to give him room to grow high, and that he does.

But... If you're an artist (by which I mean you express yourself in any creative medium, including writing, music etc.) you should probably watch it. If you've ever burned yourself out, created the best work of your life, and then wondered if it was worth it, this is something you should watch. If you have ever wondered if you've plateaued and had to rediscover your motivation to improve, this show is for you too. Likewise if you've ever hurt someone unintentionally and had to earn back their trust. Or if you've had to hurt someone because the alternative was losing a part of yourself. Or if you've been hurt in that way, and needed to pull yourself back together. If you have ever felt like you were accidentally abusing someone's feelings for you, or allowed your own feelings for someone to be abused, or or or or...

Score: 9/10. It tried to do a great many things, and it did those things. It wobbled a bit getting there. This is almost as close as you can get to a 10 without being there.

Recommendation: Power level requirement is fairly high, so I can’t hard recommend it to everyone. It has a lot of anime tiddy early on, the protagonist starts out as a bit of a shit, and you will miss some things if you're not deep enough in anime culture. Out of the gate it wears the same hat as a harem anime. It does pull troll tricks maybe one or two times too many. If you can, I urge you to look past all that. Just... watch How To Raise A Boring Girlfriend.

Final Thoughts

Oh right, I should explain the title. At the time I finished Saekano, I was maintaining that there could only be one 10/10 anime, and it was Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann: Lagann-hen. Saekano was so good I had to go back and watch my top rated shows again to compare. This started the train of thought that led to On Rating Anime, and "Perfection" and caused me to re-rate Toradora and Angel Beats up to 10. For the rest of the marathon, I found that something in almost everything I watched caused me to think of Saekano, so it led me to start comparing anime to similar ones... particularly Saekano. At this point it's become a personal meme to find a way to compare things to it, in at least some small way.

[kimwexlers-brownhair]

what are your thoughts on Gilmore girls so far?

I'm on season 3, so my thoughts may change, but so far I really love it, for the most part.

I'm fascinated by Rory. I'd very much like to study her under glass. I know a lot of people say the later seasons absolutely ruin Rory's character, and of course I'll have to wait for said seasons to say for sure, but I think there've been plenty of hints so far that she's got a darker side. The way she talked to Shane in the hair dye shop? Atrocious.

I mean, I don't really blame her at this point in the show. She's very young. Lorelai obviously overcorrected her parents' mistakes by making Rory her prococious other half and she along with her grandparents and the rest of Stars Hollow treat her like the preciousest princess ever. It's impossible for that not to warp a kid's mind.

I have the advantage of being older than most of my generation was when they first watched, so I can afford to be more objective. I told two friends my age who were huge fans back in the day that I was finally watching it and they both said they were "total Rorys". And I was like...no you weren't! I knew one of you back then, and you may be as smart as Rory, but you definitely were more of a Type A Paris! And that's great, because Paris is the greatest! But it's inevitable if you were a teenager in 2000 watching Gilmore Girls you'd imprint hard on Rory no matter what you were really like. You're meant to.

(I was a Lane who aged into a Luke)

But I do think the writers were slowly building to how unprepared all this adulation and idolizing made Rory for the real world. She may be incredibly smart, but there is no way she becomes the next Christiane Amanpour. When she sits like a bump on a log next to Paris when they're both supposed to be interviewing the college admissions people? Paris has the guts for that kind of life, but not Rory. That girl has zero guts. She'd make a kickass librarian, though. Some place like Library of Congress would be perfect for her, since I'm sure there are a lot of opportunities to help journalists in their research, which she'd be totally boss at. But charging into war zones and being, dare I say it, pushy sometimes and aggressive in not a passive way? Nah.

Not to be all Logan Roy about it, but she's just not built for it. And that's okay! Neither am I! And that's why I do work at a library! But of course, Rory is meant for GrEaTeR ThInGs.

I am very empathetic to Lorelai -- for anyone who says she acts like a spoiled brat to her parents, may I remind you of that time Richard blamed her for Christopher marrying someone else because she didn't marry him at *sixteen?* Fuck her parents, she's always laying down reasonable boundaries and trying to be the bigger person (okay, maybe not ALWAYS, but still) -- anyway, I'm empathetic to her, but she has put a whole different kind of pressure and set of expectations on Rory than her parents put on her.

"We're best friends first and mother and daughter second." Well, that's a big magenta flag if not outright red. I still give her a lot of leeway because of having Rory so young and the fact she herself never got to grow up normally. But it doesn't do Rory any favors.

And don't get me started on the Rory-Dean-Jess triangle. It's another example of how I'm older (and possibly more aromantic) than the target demographic. I just don't give any kind of shit about it other than the fact the storyline reveals more of Rory's self-centered streak. However, I'm just way more interested in the intergenerational tension between Lorelai and her parents, the Chilton plotlines, and the Stars Hollow eccentrics (Kirk my beloved!).

That, and obviously Paris is Rory's soulmate for better or for worse, so all this nonsense is just a waste of time.

To sum up, things I love about the show: it's addictive, for one thing, and it also manages to tell complex stories with multifaceted characters while still feeling very pleasant and easy to watch. Michel, Lane, Sookie, Miss Patty, Taylor, Babette, and above all my darling Kirk are all vastly underrated. Luke has his psychopathic moments, but I can't help relating. Emily and Richard are the worst, but the best at being entertaining so I give them a pass. Paris is all. I'm a big fan of this show overall.

Things I don't love: The Not-Like-Other-Girlsness of Lorelai and Rory, and -- I know I'm going to get stoned for this -- I find the Lorelai/Rory banter pretty goddamn tiresome. Neither of them are as funny as they think they are, and it's another example of how they both share the same Main Character Syndrome (yeah, sure, they are technically the main characters in the Doylist sense, but from a Watsonian standpoint they just steamroll every room they enter).

But my most important takeaway is that we fatphobes in the early '00s weren't willing to accept how gorgeous, cute, and sexy Melissa McCarthy was as Sookie. Those big blue eyes with that red hair? Those dimples? Lucky guy, Jackson.

[deaneverafter]

not certain people using footage of beau looking at jenny during the last scene for gifsets of their made up ship and ogling about it 🤦‍♀️

it wouldn't have bothered me so much, must be a day that ends with y, if not for the highly (un)entertaining fact that these are the same people who just wouldn't shut up about jenny and beau not having chemistry for the whole duration of season 3.

now they are admitting they were jealous because they wished for dean to look at their fave the way beau looks at jenny, and that never happened and is never going to happen, so the only thing they can do is this completely different character for their pathetic fetish ship. is that it? is this the takeaway?

because it's all i'm getting from this cringe fest 🤷‍♀️

I saw it, and 🤢🤮 I am so sorry, Dean, Beau, sweetie, I am so sorry these crazy people would do you so dirty, that they would even imagine that in any world, you could fall for that ugly, backstabbing creep 🤢 (it even looks so unhinged in the gifset). I usually try not to make fun people's looks, but what can I say, MC's inner ugliness is all over his face for everyone to see ☕

Anyway, the cringe is real. Catch me throwing up in the corner (what's funny is, they didn't even try to make him sound like Dean? But then, that's not surprising, shippers do not know who Dean is, just the false version that lives in their heads)

Here's the thing. I didn't care who someone shipped with Beau. Even though, there really was only one option. Jenny's the only one he had romantic chemistry with. Not Cassie, not Denise. He had subzero chemistry with Carla, and sure, there's a history there, but uh..... it's a history of abuse (but we can't really be surprised hellers flocked to that, considering their deathstiel ship). But anyway, if someone shipped him with someone else, but stayed in their lane, I'd be like 🤷🏻‍♀️ No accounting for taste, but it doesn't matter to me. However, most people who were shipping him with other people weren't doing it calmly, in a rational way? I saw like, one person who had a different ship and being normal, and that's it. Everyone else who shipped him with any of the other women, they spent more time hating on Jenny for existing (and being better than them and their self insert, imprint character could ever hope to be 💅🏻). And trying with every breath to prove there's nothing between Beau and Jenny, which......? Very interesting, because like you said, a lot of these people were deathstiel shippers. Dean can't breath without them screaming about how it's a sign. And then we have Beau, who literally from their first interaction, looks at Jenny with the utmost, naked adoration, that really is the only word I have for it. Scenes like the one in episode 4 and episode 10, he's an open book in that you literally see the wind knocked out of him as his emotions for her hit him. But nah, no chemistry 🙄 Those of them who couldn't say that, went around saying "oh, Jensen has chemistry with everyone, he has chemistry with a chair, it means nothing." Um? Not true. There's different kinds of chemistry. Sure, Jensen has working chemistry with almost everyone, in that he can make scenes work, regardless of the dynamic (though, let's be honest, with some people there's just absolutely such a lack of chemistry, that it was still cringe, like every single scene Beau had with Carla or Emily. Some people are SO utterly lacking in charisma and skill, that even opposite Jensen they couldn't make things work, for example, 15x18. WHO tf thought that was the epitome of acting? Like, what was going on on that set that no one told this man to at least try not to do whatever he was trying? Funny that you don't even see hardcore shippers use that so-called confession in their lovely dovey edits, I wonder why).

Jensen does not have romantic chemistry with every character. There's plenty of familial, completely platonic relationships he's played, and he's done them incredibly, with the correct type of chemistry. It would actually be weird for their to be romantic chemistry in those dynamics. He does have romantic chemistry with Jenny, and incredible amounts of it. I've seen him play characters in romantic relationships/interactions, in Supernatural, in other shows, and they were all done really well. Jo Harvelle, Lana Lang, Jen Lindley. But none of them had what Beau and Jenny have, because the actors do have a ton of natural chemistry, and then the characters have a very complex, varied dynamic, and the romantic feelings are one of those facets, and their chemistry really worked for that. So that excuse just..... does not work.

Anyway, sorry, my point being, yeah, these people didn't just ship other ships and stayed in their lane. No, they spent all season trying to demean Jenny, and dismiss what was there between them. So, yeah, that makes it even more gross how people from that same clique think that it's a flex to use their interactions for their own dumb ship. Like?

And, if people were shipping him with other characters because there was something there that they liked (and a few did), it would be like, whatever, not my cup of tea, but, to each their own. But, most people were going into it with an agenda, I'm sorry, but that was just very transparent.

Cassie, because of her name. How is that not dismissive of the character she is, treating her as a cass-insert? Cassie because representation, which, yeah, that's important, but not at the expense of the story. Or because they can't stand that Jenny and Cassie are both leads, not just one. Cassie had her own love interest, talking about how Jenny and Beau being a thing is disrespectful to her or "sidelining" her is silly, because frankly, she got way more focus, and certainly way more of a personal story than Jenny did. Jenny had her mom's story, which they gave barely 1.5 episodes too. And her other big season arc was her relationship with Beau, where the showrunner did try (and fail 💅🏻😌) his best to treat her like the third wheel in a love triangle. In her own story. Imagine treating one of your leads like that. Could not be me. That's how much attention Jenny got. But nah, let's spend 13 episodes, the very last season on guest characters, Fiesty Firecracker #1 and Fiesty Firecracker #2, not even the mystery. Like, they could've used a lot of that time to focus on Beau's past, his trauma, Jenny's relationship with her mom, her grief about Cody, getting shot, AND they could've spent that time on the actual mystery. Why did Buck kill people? Why did he stop? Who killed Luke? Did Sunny really have no clue? So many things they could've focused on that were more important. Besides, Beau did not have any romantic chemistry or vibes with Cassie, he just didn't, and those are the facts. What I find really interesting is people who are like "yeah, I know Cassie and Cormac are a thing, but, why can't she have two love interests." So, Jenny's not allowed to even have one, but Cassie should have both? Or "Jenny gets all the good men". Beau's the first one, but sure, go off. The ones who admit that yeah, there's something between Beau and Jenny, but Cassie should run off with Beau anyway. Like? At that point, it's clear they don't even actually care about Cassie, because frankly, that would ruin her character. I actually saw a fanfic once. The author had every chance to make Beau and Jenny platonic if they wanted to make Beau and Cassie a thing. But no, they had to be like, from Cassie's POV, mind you, "ugh, Jenny, why's she into him? Ugh, why must I be made to feel like the bad guy from wanting him, why do I feel guilty?" Uhh..... idk, sleeping with a second man someone has feelings for/is involved with, that should make a person feel guilty, idk, I don't think that makes you a victim, but, maybe I'm old fashioned that way. But that does show a really weird resentment towards Jenny from the author, when they could've just written their ooc fic in their own lane, idk.

Poppernak, because, Beau isn't allowed to be straight, because straight people are a myth. I saw someone saying "oh, he watched romcoms, he is SO into men". That's...... really offensive to propagate stereotypes like that. Not to mention, he literally used to be married to a woman, a demon woman as she may be, but a woman nonetheless. Not to mention, that his only even romantic adjacent relationship all season long was with Jenny, also a woman. But sure, let's ship him with Poppernak.

Carla, again, I really think there's this really toxic idea in fandom (across fandoms) atm that being cruel and selfish is how you become a strong girlboss. That's false. Specifically this fandom, more and more it's being normalized and condoned, encouraged even, to treat Jensen (and his characters) like trash, so I can see why that dynamic would be appeasing to some people. Someone calls him a cockroach, that's a haha funny joke. Someone calls him name every con? Again, a funny joke. Demeaning him, degrading and humiliating him, treating him like a leper to hype up other people? Nothing wrong with that. Because he's a "rich, white man in his 40s", and apparently they're not allowed to have feelings and be sad when treated like this. Hellers, of course, think this dynamic was sexy and cute, they've been getting off to the crypt scene and the alley scene for a decade now 🤢🤮

And, well, at the end of the day, I really think a lot of people were jealous of Jenny, how beautiful she is, how interesting and badass without being.... well, a bad person, and most importantly, that Beau was her love interest. That made Carla a really compelling choice for them to try to send him back to. I mean, I've seen people yonder on twitter, waxing poetics about Carla the victim, insulting Jenny for existing and doing her job, while actually treating Beau like a person, not a dog the way Carla did. And then, when seeing that a lot of people were seeing what's between Beau and Jenny, I've seen those same people turn right around and be like "wow, Beau and Cassie are SO GOOD together". Like? You ain't slick. You don't care about Cassie, it's literally that you can't get a handle on your hate and resentment for Jenny. Which is really interesting, because you don't get to watch a show and then complain about the lead and act like she's nothing. That's like the bozos that watch Supernatural and then get mad when Dean and Sam are onscreen. Why are you watching The Dean and Sam show if you have a problem with Dean and Sam (both, not even one)? Make it make sense.

ANYWAY, you didn't ask for an essay, but, I think it's really weird how so many people in this fandom refuse to watch the story actually playing on their screen, refuse to see who does have a story together, chemistry together and instead go in with agendas, and then try to fit the narrative to that. There was a lot of weird hate towards Jenny, based simply on these agendas, and because some people can't handle him having a love interest. Those same people who were claiming it's misogyny to hate Carla and Emily. Uhh, no, it's not. Hating those two because they gave us plenty of reasons to, because they're awful people, is not misogyny. Hating Jenny, because she's a love interest, because she and Beau had what Dean and Cass never did, what Beau and Cassie never did (deathstiel lite, for these people), because she was a love interest whilst respecting him and being there for him rather than being toxic like Carla, that is misogyny. And yeah, spending all season hating on her, trying to dismiss Beau and Jenny's relationship and chemistry, and then turning right around to make edits using him..... that's not only hypocritical, it also makes them look like idiots of the highest degree 🤷🏻‍♀️