#i’ll get out of here someday. i’ll get out of here and i’ll be so much better mentally. i’ll get out of here

[livvyofthelake]

deciding my favorite genre of book is children’s historical fiction… nothing else hits like it sorry… yeah yeah adult historical fiction is fine. not my favorite though…

[sandsucks]

when i get proper sleep….i will be a changed man i promise

[mer-se]

Gotta love when ppl make snarky comments about u still wearing a mask at work (around a bunch of elderly people, and audibly very sick snotty ass people queued up at a pharmacy all day everyday) like my body literally and at times scarily doesn’t work right since I had covid and I eat well - not overweight or old. (only worth saying because those are the excuses they use otherwise ur fine) It’s not ��a cold’ for a lot of ppl, and if it was congrats a lot of ppl don’t walk away the same and just because you’re a self righteous fucktard doesn’t take away the fact that it’s pretty serious for many. Yes - even still. Fuck off.

[minminambus]

.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Sharing a bed with kny men

Pairings: Yoriichi x fem!reader; Sanemi x fem!reader

Word Count: 5,7k (lmao)

Warnings: injury in Yoriichi's part, smut in Sanemi's part so read if you're 18+, this is a long ass fic y'all, not proofread

This is actually my first time posting Sanemi smut and I'm super scared. Let me know what you think 🥹🤍

Also, do you want me to do other characters too?🫶

Yoriichi

I heard you @laurencrsnt 🫶

All your life, you never even thought about the possibility that maybe, you’ll encounter a demon someday. Why you, out of all people? Why especially you?

Even now with its cold eyes glaring down at you and your shoulder ripped open by its claws, you fail to find an answer for that. Is it your fate to die right here, when you only went out at night in order to buy medicine for your little sister who has fever? Is dying the cruelest death really your destiny when you wish for nothing more than growing old and watching your own children live their lives?

It’s unfair.

You shouldn’t lay here, crumpled onto the still wet street. You shouldn’t feel the sensation of your eyes watering, your hands trembling, your heart racing.

This shouldn’t be your last day walking on this earth. You didn’t even have the chance to find the man of your dreams yet…

It’s ridiculous and you know it, that spark of determination that rushes through your bones. All of the sudden you spring back onto your feet and start running. Out of the city, away from the lit streets straight into the dark woods.

Even if you have to die here, you won’t give up this easily. You won’t allow this demon to end your life without putting up a fight.

“Why do you girls always think you can run away, huh? It’s too easy to sweep you off your feet”, the demon behind you comments dryly.

With a swift motion of his hand, it digs open your tender flesh all over again, sends your violent scream echoing through the lonely forest. You fall to the ground like a bag of rice, your torn leg now refusing its service completely.

“Let me go!”, you shriek in horror.

No, you don’t want to die here, you just want to go back to bed and forget about this.

But the forest ground isn’t your bed and the demon in front of you who’s ready to slice through your throat isn’t only a nightmare.

Your heart sinks to the floor, body suddenly feeling numb and lifeless. You will die here.

“I’ll keep you in good memory. Well, at least for tonight”, the demon jeers at you.

You close your eyes, desperately try to imagine your little sister. She’ll find herself a loving husband and her very own family without any doubt. Even without you around, her life will turn out alright. Even without you around, life goes on. You don’t have to feel sad or guilty, you just have to let go…

“Get away from that woman.”

A low male voice, so charismatic that you think you might dream. He sure must be handsome. Men with voices like that always have a matching face.

A slicing blade, a dull thud. But no claws that dig into your flesh one last time, no bow of relief that you’ve been awaiting for quite some time by now. Your eyelids start shivering. When is this finally over?

“Are you alright? Please allow me to help you up.”

The second something touches your skin, your eyes snap open in an instant. But they aren’t greeted by those venomous red orbs from earlier. No, these ones are soft but strong and have that calming fuchsia color. This isn’t a demon.

This is a man.

“Don’t be afraid. The demon is gone”, he continues speaking with his low voice.

You have no control over your own body and shivering limbs. It’s impossible for you to say a single word. Are you really out of danger? Is it really over?

When he pulls you off the ground, a violent scream escapes your lips. No, you don’t want to die, you don’t want your life to end tonight. Not like this, not without saying goodbye.

“Please calm down, everything is alright now”, the stranger tries to reassure you, but his words don’t even reach your ringing ears.

You gasp for air like a fish on land, forehead now covered in ice cold sweat. This can’t be your end.

If Yoriichi doesn’t act now, you might faint due to your stress. But what is he supposed to do? You don’t seem to listen to his words and touching you might only make it worse. Maybe you need, assurance?

“I won’t hurt you, see? My hands have no intention of doing you any harm.”

Gently, he glides his fingertips up and down your uninjured harm. Despite the look of horror on your face and your gaping wounds, you do have a lovely face and truly remarkable eyes.

“I came here to help you”, he continues until his fingertips finally brush over your tear-soaked face.

What is this feeling of warmth deep inside his chest? You aren’t the first woman he saved from the claws of a demon.

“I would like to accompany you on your way back home-“

“No”, you suddenly blurt out.

Even though lying in bed on your own was all you were able to think about just a few moments ago, the thought feels like a threat now. What if another demon follows you back home? What if your little sister gets attacked because of your foolishness? No, you simply can’t go back now. But on the other hand…Just the thought of sleeping alone here in the woods runs shivers down your spine.

“I…I’ll find a place to stay. Otherwise…they might harm my sister…”, you mutter.

“Allow me to escort you to my estate, then.”

You yank your head to the side in sheer disbelief, eyes searching for a spark of humor in his calming orbs. Is he really serious about that? After all, you’re a stranger. He doesn’t even know your name. Now that you think of it…who is this?

“How can I know for sure that you aren’t a demon yourself?”

“Take my hand”, he instructs you gently.

Is this really a good idea? You take a deep breath in, try to calm down your pounding heart. What do you have to lose?

When your shaky fingers wrap themselves around his much larger hand, you get ingulfed by warmth. His palms feel rough but also comforting against your bruised skin.

“Demons are cold since they are dead”, he explains briefly.

“But I am not. I am a demon slayer. It is my only destiny to safe innocent souls from their death.”

Oh. Your gaze drifts towards a katana that hangs dangles from his belt. No, demon don’t find with those weapons. So, are those words really true?

“You…You want to help me?”

“I’d love to help you if you allow me to.”

What has gotten into him? Did he really offer you to hold his hand, let alone to sleep at his house so you don’t have to fear the night on your own? Never in his life, Yoriichi allowed himself to develop feelings apart from empathy for those around him.

But those eyes. Those eyes of yours really captivate him, devour him fully. How is he supposed to leave you out here, soaked in your own blood with bruises all over your body?

“You…really would?”

Is this really okay? When you were a child, your mother told you over and over that you aren’t allowed to talk to strangers, let alone man.

But…does that also include the handsome, charismatic and armored ones?

“I keep my word. Also, your wounds need care as well. Please, allow me to help you.”

What do you have to lose.

“If that’s the case, I’d love to take your offer”, you reply shyly.

“I’m glad to hear that. I will show you the way-“

A loud groan escapes your lips before you’re able to stop it. His charismatic eyes almost made you forget about the gaping wound the monster from before inflicted on you.

Almost.

“You shouldn’t move your leg with a wound like that. I will carry you to my estate.”

“You will…carry me?”, you mutter with widened eyes.

But just when you try to take a step forward, his words become painfully clear. No, there really is no way you’ll be able to walk anywhere with that leg. But allowing him to carry you?

“I might be a little heavy.”

“Let me assure you, you aren’t heavy at all.”

“Fine…”, you grumble.

“But only a few meters.”

Gently, he stranger wraps his arms around your shoulder and knees before he starts walking.

He smells good. Like a field of flowers on a sunny day. And the way his heart beats against your cheek reminds you that you’re still alive, that you survived somehow.

This man saved you.

“I didn’t even thank you.”

“There’s no need to thank me. This is the least I can do for you after I almost came too late.”

He stares blankly at the blood that still drips from your leg. Just a few seconds later and that demon would have killed you with him simply watching. Why? Why is he not able to save them all, why is he still not good enough to stop this madness?

“Don’t tense up, don’t think anything less of yourself because I was injured. I was a fool for leaving the house this late at night on my own.”

Despite the fact that cold sweat still runs down your forehead and even though your fingertips still shake in shock, you cup his cheek and force his troubled eyes to look at you.

“I am beyond thankful for my rescue. The worst thing about dying today would have been leaving my little sister behind. But you saved me. And not only that, you even offered me a safe place to stay for the night. I really don’t know if…If I’d be able to sleep on my own tonight…”

The stranger doesn’t say a word, his eyes roaming around your face without a real aim.

“Oh, I didn’t even ask. What’s your name?”

“My name is not important-“

“I’m (y/n)”, you introduce yourself friendly.

“My…my name is Yoriichi”, the man carrying you mumbles.

Yoriichi. An unusual name that you’ve never heard before.

“That name suits you well.”

“We’ll arrive soon. I hope you don’t expect a big mansion since I am living in a rather small cottage-“

“I’m living in a tiny barrack in the city. A house in the woods sounds like a dream”, you mutter.

The second you open your eyes again, you find yourself in a wooden cabin with a plain futon lying on the floor and an improvised kitchen in the back of the house. Nothing special, very fitting for the man who gently lowers you onto the futon.

“I will take care of your wounds now”, he announces before taking off his haori and katana.

Without his threatful weapon dangling from his belt, he looks like a normal man.

If it wasn’t for those captivating eyes. He has to be the most breathtaking man you’ve ever seen.

“Fortunately, the cut on your leg isn’t deep. I’ll disinfect the wound and bandage it”, he explains briefly before his skilled hands spring into action.

“You really are good at everything”, you comment.

He’s so gentle that even the alcohol that disinfects your wound doesn’t seem to burn. Why have you never stumbled across him? You were so sure that you know each and every man around that it almost drove you insane. But him? He’s different from all the others. He’s truly special.

“You will have to take your kimono off. I need access to the wound on your shoulder.”

Oh.

“Y-yeah, sure…”

Hesitantly, you pull the blood-soaked fabric down your shoulder so that only your chest is still covered. Yoriichi’s eyes seem to gleam in the moonlight like liquid metal.

“You look lovely”, he flusters into the night.

He doesn’t know what has gotten into him. Is it the alcohol rising up his nose, the smell of blood that radiates from your bruised body that makes him say those strange things?

No. It has to be because of those eyes of yours. Those eyes that captivated him from the moment he first saw them.

"Thank you," you stammer, your cheeks flushing as you nervously tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"You too," you add quickly, immediately regretting your awkward response.

Both you and Yoriichi swallow hard, the atmosphere in the room suddenly changing.

“I am finished. You should rest for tonight. After all, this was a draining fight for you”, he mutters while getting up.

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding, heart still hammering so roughly against your ribcage that you’re almost sure he’s able to hear it. What was this tension?

“But…this is your futon-“

“You are my guest. Of course, I will sleep on the floor on the other side of the room.”

Oh. A wave of disappointment rushes over you before you’re able to stop it. What were you expecting, secretly hoping? That this man will share a bed with you?

Honestly, yes.

“You…you really don’t have to…”

Oh, how much Yoriichi wished he wouldn’t have to.

“I insist on taking the floor.”

“I actually want you to sleep by my side. Please.”

The begging tone in your voice stops him mid-track.

“This night was…horrible. A little company would definitely help, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all”, he replies a little too hasty.

“I just don’t want to invade your personal space. After all, I’m a stranger.”

“A really kind stranger”, you add shyly.

Are you acting out of line? You shouldn’t push him to sleep next to you when his offer to let you sleep here is already generous enough, right?

“Forget my question, I was acting out of line-“

“No, not at all. I would love sleeping besides you.”

He crosses the room in an instant and kneels down next to you.

“But let me know whenever I become too much.”

What a ridiculous thought. Why would he ever become too much? Him, your savior, that remarkable man.

You scoot over until your back is pressed against the cool wall, eyes still fixated on his gleaming eyes. Will you really be able to sleep tonight when this is the first time ever a man lies beside you?

And what a handsome one on top.

“You should try to sleep now. Nothing will happen to you as long as I am here”, he reassures you.

That is the least he can do after failing to protect you in the first place.

“Again, thank you for all of this. I definitely own you a favor”, you mumble.

Suddenly your lids start to get heavy, your mind slows down bit by bit. Maybe this rough night really took its toll on you. Is It the safety he radiates, his calming smell? In the matter of seconds, only your low and even breath is heard.

Finally, Yoriichi is able to allow himself a closer look at you. You look so peaceful and innocent with a face so remarkably beautiful that he can’t stop staring. You have to be the prettiest woman he’s ever seen. A man like him really doesn’t deserve lying next to a woman like you. Maybe he should give you space, leave you now that you fell asleep-

With a quiet groan, you draw closer to him in your sleep until your head rests on top of his chest and with your arms wrapped around his upper body.

He doesn’t dare to move an inch, eyes widen in utter surprise. Is this…cuddling? His mind races back and forth, eyes resting on your calm features. What is he supposed to do now?

Hesitantly, he allows his hand to rest on your back. What an unknown sensation, all those feelings that rise up his chest right where your hand rests.

For the first time since forever, he is the one who feels safe.   

He is the one who feels loved.

He is the one who feels warm.

And you? You cuddle yourself against him until the sun rises all over again.

Sanemi Shinazugawa

This one's for you @muichirolover14 🤍

“This is bullshit”, the man walking next to you mumbles under his breath.

“Keep focused. It was Kagaya-sama’s personal wish that the two of us go on this mission together”, you mumble with a fake smile decorating your bright red lips.

And that’s the only reason why you agreed in the first place. Why else would you pretend to be Sanemi Shinazugawa’s personal concubine if it wasn’t for Kagaya-sama and this undercover mission?

The plan is pretty simple. Countless people, including other demon slayers, lost their lives in this little innocent village that becomes a red-light district at night. Nobody knows why or who is responsible for this.

One of the upper moons, maybe.

It just made sense to dress you up as a concubine. After all, you are the light hashira, a mighty swordswoman and probably the most talented out of Mitsuri and Shinobu when it comes to acting.

And then there’s him. You glance at Sanemi’s annoyed face from the side. Why on earth did Kagaya-sama choose him? What about Rengoku, Giyu, Obanai, Tengen, Gyomei? Aren’t they a way better fit?

You sign to yourself.

Truth is, they aren’t. While Rengoku, Obanai, Tengen and Gyomei would stand out immediately, Giyu would never be able to sell you as his concubine. No, no one except the wind hashira is able to make this look natural.

No one but him looks this good in a dark green kimono.

What?

“Stop staring at me like that, brat”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

“I was just hoping you might disappear if I stare long enough, idiot”, you bite back in frustration.

Why does he always have to be so mean, though? You really tried to get along with him countless times, put on the most precious smile whenever you talked to him and made sure to always bring him ohagi whenever you had the chance to. But Sanemi Shinazugawa never stopped hating you. And eventually, a part of you started to dislike him as well. That one part though…

You allow your eyes a minor glimpse at his barely exposed chest. That tiny part deep within your head is somehow still drawn to him. And you hate it.

“Aren’t concubines supposed to shut up?”

“Watch your mouth or I’ll leave immediately.”

“Both of us know you wouldn’t do that.”

You let out your shaky breath, your hand crushing his while you wear the same friendly smile as before.

“Don’t mess with me, Shinazugawa”, you speak out with low voice.

His face tenses up ever so slightly, hand fighting for freedom out of your merciless grasp.

“You’ll regret talking to me like that when we’re alone, brat.”

-at the estate-

“I’d like to show you to my newest possession. Please introduce yourself”, Sanemi speaks out.

Like Amane-sama showed you, you bow in front of the man that looks you up and down with his filthy eyes.

“My name is Kiyomi”, you introduce yourself oh so sweetly.

“That name really suits you. What a beauty you are. I’m sure I’d find a lot of paying customers for you here”, the disgusting man purrs and stretches out his hand in order to touch your face.

“Don’t touch the goods”, Sanemi barks at him immediately before slapping his dirty hand away.

Who does this guy think he is, trying to touch you so casually? No. That jerk isn’t allowed to caress your face. The plain thought of men like him getting to put their hands on you…

Sanemi’s guts turn.

“Aren’t you here to sell her and yourself for the night? If that’s the case, she won’t be your good anymore for the next few hours but mine.”

He smiles at you through rotten teeth, his breath almost forcing you to choke. You are only here to detect the demon who is responsible for the countless deaths in this area. You don’t have to touch any of these men. None of them will touch you.

What about Sanemi, though? An uneasy feeling rises up your chest when your eye catches a group of women who stare him up and down with lust in their eyes. Will he allow himself a taste before continuing with this mission? Will he find a woman he is attracted to? All of them look flawless, too good to even consider the service of a paid men. But if that man looks like Sanemi…

“You will find your room to the right. This is where the female customers choose their good. After paying, you belong to them”, the man explains briefly while showing both of you around.

“Why would these women pay for the services of a man? This is a noble region that is well-inhabited by countless men”, you blurt out.

“It’s not about them being men. It’s about looks. Only the fine-looking men even get the chance to work here for the night”, he explains briefly.

Fine-looking man, huh? Well, there is no doubt in the fact that Sanemi suits that description way too good. With his firm muscles highlighted by scars from countless battles, he looks like a walking god. Let alone his perfect face, his eyes that now look soft and seducing without being irritated constantly. His white hair that frames his features perfectly.

“As for the women, we look for a broad variety of bodies, looks and personalities. You are very easy on the eye and mysterious. I’m sure countless customers will fall for that.”

“And what…what services do they expect?”

The man in front of you bursts out in hysteric laughter, you can feel Sanemi’s eyes piercing through your skull.

“What they expect? Intercourse and everything that revolves around it, of course! Do you think they pay you for some cuddles and nice words?”

You swallow hard. There is no need to do that, right? You’ll somehow shrug them off and investigate this place at night. Maybe you’ll find the demon right away and-

“Now, you are a fine-looking man. Who is this?”, a woman suddenly purrs out of the shadows.

“A new worker for the night”, the disgusting man explains with a dirty smile.

“Well, if that’s the case, I’ll definitely make a reservation.”

“It would be an honor, my lady”, suddenly replies in the same cheeky tone

Your guts turn in an instant, eyes narrowing slightly as you watch how a smile forms itself on Sanemi’s usual resting lips.

“What a gentleman he is. I cannot wait to meet you.”

“The honor is on my side, my lady.”

And then he steps in front of her. Elegantly, he grabs the hand she already holds out and kisses her knuckles. Your heartrate quickens, the warm flush that starts creeping up your face barely covered by your makeup.

Fucking asshole. So he’s acting like a jerk towards you all this time while treating other women like this? You hate the knot that forms itself in your throat, the disgusting feeling of disappointment that rushes over you.

Does he really hate you this much?

“Well, I think I should introduce myself to the customers as well. Have a pleasant night, Sir”, your monotone voice speaks out on its own.

With one last bow towards him, you follow the man into the women’s corridor without even gifting him a single look. Sanemi can’t help but furrow his eyebrows at your sudden reaction. Did you really want to get rid of him so badly? Maybe you’ll actually meet up with some of those guys and…

“Are you interested-“

“I will meet up with you later this evening, my lady. Please excuse me.”

Without another look or word, he storms into his assigned room and closes the door behind him.

Sanemi’s mind starts going insane. What if you actually like one of those guys? Or what if one of them hurts you, tries to force you into something you don’t want? He heard the worst stuff about places like this.

Fuck, he shouldn’t have let you go in the first place. Why you? This mission is way too dangerous for someone like you, for someone this gorgeous-

“I’m losing my fucking mind”, he mutters through gritted teeth.

“I can’t do this”, you breathe out in sheer panic while lying in bed.

No, just the thought of Sanemi having the fun of his life with that girl from earlier feels like ripping your beating heart out of your chest. Will he really share a bed with them?

If it’s for the mission, he definitely would. Nothing is greater than his urge to kill demons, especially when it comes to an upper ranked one. That little sacrifice wouldn’t stop him.

And it breaks your dumb heart.

A hard knock on the door rips you out of your running thoughts. Is this your first customer? All color drains from your face, eyes widen in horror with every bow against the wooden door.

“Just a moment”, your shaky voice shouts.

You…Do you have to look presentable? You have to think about the things you can tell him. Maybe you don’t even have to sleep with him, maybe this will distract you from the things Sanemi is probably doing right now.

You open the door.

And stare straight into the furious eyes of Sanemi Shinazugawa.

Before you’re even able to react, he pushes himself into your room and closes the door behind him before yanking you against the wall.

“What did you do?”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

Your heart starts hammering roughly against your ribcage. Him? Here?

“What the hell are you doing he-“

“Answer my question right now!”, he barks into your face.

“I didn’t do anything!”, you shriek.

“What the hell has gotten into you!?”

“Has somebody touched you?”

His rough hands start running up and down your neck, yank the sleeves of your kimono upwards in a haste.

“What?”, you breathe out.

What the hell is going on? Just when you managed to pull your arm away from him, he grabs your wrist again with his face only inches away from yours.

“Did somebody touch you?”, he screams into your face.

“No!”, you cry back.

“But why would you even care? It looked like you had plenty of fun!”

He shakes his head while looking at you in utter surprise and confusion.

“What non-sense are you talking now-“

“Did you sleep with that woman from earlier when I was gone?”

God, you hate the way your voice cracks in the middle of the sentence, you hate the way your eyes fill with hot tears. He came here to confront you with all those accusations while he was out there having the time of his life, while all you were able to think about is him?

“No, I didn’t sleep with anyone!”

“Stop lying to me!”

“You’re the only one I want!”, he suddenly blurts out breathlessly.

“What?”, you utter in hushed panic.

This has to be a cruel joke, an unforgiving way to stop you from doing anything. Sanemi Shinazugawa, wanting you?

“Since I first saw you with your fucking perfect face and so melodic voice, I can’t think about anything else! You, sleeping with some random guy while I’m just a few doors away. I can’t take it!”

He grabs your head with both hands, eyes staring at you so intensely that you feel like collapsing any minute. If that’s really true, if that’s really how he feels…

“But…I want you too”, you squirm.

“I always wanted you, Sanemi.”

His lips crash against yours with so much power that you almost fall over. Suddenly his hands are all over your body, tongue unforgiving as he discovers your mouth with a passion you’ve never felt before. You allow your very own hands to finally discover the deep valleys of his muscular back, to let your hasty fingertips wander over his tight chest.

It becomes unbearable. Everything starts to become unbearable. That minor gap between your bodies, the clothes that still deny you full access to his naked skin, the feeling of not having enough.

“I need more”, you whimper against his lips, not even knowing what exactly you’re asking about.

Sanemi lifts you up with ease, not even breaking the kiss when he pushes you onto the bed with his massive body lingering on top of you.

You feel like suffocating in the most exquisite way.

“I’ll give you whatever you want”, he breathes against your lips that now find your neck.

A whimper escapes your mouth before you can stop his, body rearing up underneath him.

“S-Sanemi!”

“Fuck”, he hisses before his dark eyes meet you again in distress.

“Tell me you want this.”

“I…what?”

You can’t produce a single logical sound, head still spinning from the unknown sensation that starts building up inside your stomach. Is this what desire feels like?

“Tell me you want this too. Tell me you want me.”

“I wanted you all this time”, you reply without thinking twice.

With a swift motion, you find yourself engulfed by his arms with his lips caressing yours all over again. Like in trance, you begin opening his kimono, expose his bare skin to your merciless eyes.

“You look so shamelessly good”, you whimper.

Oh, how often you pondered about how his chest feels like, if his scars are soft or as rough as his walls.

“Can I…?”

His hands grab the ends of your kimono, eyes staring down at you flustered. Is that blush creeping up his cheeks?

“It’s just…You know…I’ve never done this before…”, you stammer.

“Do I look like I did, idiot?”, he mutters while gently taking off your kimono until you lay underneath him.

Completely naked.

“I mean, yes…”

“No, I didn’t”, he barks.

“I guess I waited for someone special…”

“I did as well”, you reply in an instant.

Is this real or are you dreaming? Sanemi Shinazugawa laying on top of you fully nude. Sanemi Shinazugawa stating that he likes you. Sanemi Shinazugawa’s hand that start moving downwards…

Until he reaches between your legs and simply takes your breath away.

“Are you okay?”, he mutters, eyes filled with worry.

You nod absently, eyes rolling back into your skull. God, this feels like heaven. When a groan escapes his lips, you completely lose yourself. Out of instinct, you grab his neck and yank him even closer towards you, your hot breath clashing against his face.

“Sanemi!”

His name sounds like a prayer coming from your mouth, forces his fingers to move even faster. Is this good? Is he doing everything alright? Your whimpers grow louder and louder, nails digging into his now oversensitive skin with so much pressure that it threatens to burst. You look so gorgeous with your eyes pressed shut, your delicate mouth forming an “o”.

And then you burst right underneath him, scream his name over and over again with your legs shaking. He can’t wait no longer, can’t contain himself another second.

“I need you”, he mutters.

“Please, let me have you.”

“Yes”, you breathe out, mind still spinning when the firework that just exploded in your lower body slowly starts wearing off.

Until you feel him all over again. But this time, not his fingers. Your glossy eyes widen in utter surprise when he carefully stretches you out and disappears inside of you, hands holding onto him for dear life.

“Are you okay?”, he whimpers.

“Please…give me…more…”

He almost loses his mind, the new sensation almost eating him up alive. Countless nights, he dreamed about what it might be like to have you, what it would feel like. But the reality is so much better than any dream.

Sanemi picks up his pace and grabs your waist passionately in order to keep you in place. Over and over, again and again your sticky skin collides with his until he threatens to burst.

“You’re mine”, he presses out through gritted teeth while pounding into you.

“I’m all yours, Sanemi!”, you cry out, nails now leaving marks on his skin.

“I need…ah! I need you! Please!”

He knows exactly what you’re asking for. One last time, he picks up the pace while holding onto you for dear life.

Until finally, you scream his name. Finally, he’s able to let it all go.

“(y/n)!”

He collapses on top of you, his weight leaving you dizzy and unable to move. None of you dares to make a move, the only thing that’s filling the room being your shaky and sharp breaths.

“I love you, (y/n)”, Sanemi finally mutters, his hand caressing your cheek oh so gently.

“I love you too-“

“Mission report, mission report! Kagaya-sama requires a mission re- AH!”

“Get out of here right now!”, Sanemi barks at the crow that casually entered the room.

“WHAT IS GOING ON HERE!?”

“Get out!”, Sanemi screams on top of his lungs before yanking up and hunting the crow butt-naked through the room

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine @laurencrsnt

[spokenforyou]

sylus x fem reader

PORCELAIN DOLL

synopsis: sylus takes your virginity and plans to make it the best you’ve had. warnings: unprotected intercourse, cream pie, vulgarity, swearing, loss of virginity, f receiving wc: 3k

[minors don’t interact. by interacting with this post you are consenting to view something that is not appropriate, despite warnings]

You were his doll, his porcelain doll.

Beautiful and flawless, innocent and delicate. You were Sylus’ doll. However, you were something he never wanted to break, too fragile. Taking your virginity would’ve meant corrupting and breaking you, but god did he want you…

You and Sylus have been together for a few months now, nearly 8, and never have been sexually intimate. You’ve kissed, made out, ground against each other, and all of that, but never had sex. It was something you were afraid of and something he was afraid of. You were a virgin, and he didn’t want to corrupt you, to ruin you.

You were in the kitchen, popping popcorn for a movie, when he came up behind you. Sylus’ arms wrap around you and he leans down to press a kiss on your neck. “You’ve been in here too long, doll.”

You smile and lean against him while popcorn pops in the popcorn machine. “This is taking a while… Maybe like a minute more?” You look up at him and see his red eyes staring into your own eyes.

“Mmm, okay. I’ll wait with you.” Sylus kisses your forehead and rubs your stomach gently, as he always did. The popcorn finishes popping and you open the glass doors; he unwraps from you and grabs a bowl, handing it to you.

“Thank you, baby.” You smile, and he kisses your head once again. Grabbing the scooper, you scoop the popcorn into the bowl, Sylus grabs some butter seasoning and salt for you. He shakes some of it in the bowl and you mix it up.

“We’re a good team doll…” He gives you a soft smile and takes the bowl from you, leading you back to the living room couch. Setting the bowl onto the table, he sits you in his lap and hits play on the movie; his arms immediately wrap back around you as you reach for some popcorn.

You guys were watching a romance movie, your favorite genre. Sylus didn’t mind; he’d do anything you asked, so he sat through every request you had.

A love scene of the couple comes up and you feel his arms tighten around you. “You know, Sy?” you whisper and he looks down at you.

“Yeah, baby?” He whispers back and kisses your neck softly.

“I think I’m ready…” You lean back against his chest and look up at him. His eyes widen and he lifts an eyebrow before looking at the screen.

“For you…” You continue and he nods.

“You sure doll? I don’t want to hurt you or anything baby…” Sylus’ rough hands rub your stomach before he reaches and takes some popcorn.

You laugh as he stuffs his face; “Yes, I’m sure. We’ve gotta do it someday.”

He swallows and chuckles, “Sweetie, you know how bad I want you, but if it’s truly something you don’t want to do… I wouldn’t mind dying without having you. You’re so important to me, and you know I’d put you first.” Sylus’ eyes drag over your face. The beauty of you shining at him like the rays of the sun, something he’d never get tired of.

“Scared I’ll hurt you.” He sighs and nuzzles his face in your neck.

“Sy…” You sigh and place your hand on his that’s resting on your stomach.

He lets out a soft hum as you place your hand on his. His lips continue to pepper your neck with kisses, nibbling and sucking at your skin, marking you as his.

Sylus’ heart was pounding. You were ready to give your first time to him. Understanding: Knowing the moment’s importance, he vowed to make it gentle and perfect for you. He picked you up, holding you easily and cradling you in his muscular arms. He carried you into the bedroom and set you down on the bed, his eyes roaming over your body with a mixture of desire and care.

You feel nervous as he stands near the bed; he senses it and moves on top of you. Hovering over you, Sylus presses gentle kisses to your neck, speaking in a low, soothing voice.

“Relax, doll, just breathe. I’ll take good care of you, I promise.” He whispered against your skin, and you relax a bit. When he saw your body relaxing beneath him, his touch became even gentler.

His lips continued to roam your neck and collarbone, leaving behind a trail of feathery kisses. His warm breath ghosted against your skin as his hands explored your body, slowly undressing you.

With care, he caressed and touched you, his eyes locked on your face, watching for any signs of discomfort. He spoke against the sensitive skin of your neck, his voice a deep, gravelly whisper that sent shivers down your spine.

“So pretty…” Sylus whispered as he pulled your top off. His fingers run along your bra, pulling the straps down.

He lifted your back gently and unclasped your bra, throwing it somewhere in the room. You lay back down and he nods, “Good girl.”

His mouth found its way to one of your exposed breasts, his lips gently sucking and licking the sensitive flesh. He could feel you shudder beneath him, and he whispered in a soothing tone, his voice rough and low.

“Shhh, it’s alright, doll. Just let me make you feel good... Let me pleasure you and take care of your every need. I won’t push you too far, I promise...”

His kisses and licks continued, moving to your other breast while his hands roamed the curves of your waist. You let out quiet moans and arch up towards him. This extra pleasure overwhelms you before he suddenly pulls away.

“Ever touched yourself baby?” He looks down at you with a curious expression and you gulp.

“I uh... I’ve tried.” You whisper, feeling a bit embarrassed at the directness of the question.

Sylus’ heart fluttered as he heard your nervous answer. He chuckled softly, his hand trailing up your stomach and stopping at your chin, tilting it up to look at him. His gaze darkened with desire as he spoke in a husky, low voice.

“You’ve tried, doll?”

Softly, he positioned his knee between your legs, easing them apart slowly; his touch remained gentle and careful. He wanted to take it slow, despite how much his own body was aching to continue. He wanted to hear your answer first.

“Yeah… I was never successful or good at it. It felt weird, Sy.” You whisper, feeling a bit embarrassed at the directness.

Sylus smiles down at you softly, before pressing his knee further and closer to your clothed core. “It’s alright baby… What if I were to help you? Would you let me show you the right way to do it?” He runs a hand down your exposed torso.

You nod and gulp; he nods back before moving his hand down between your legs. Rubbing slow and circular motions over where you need him most.

“Sy…” you whine and close your eyes.

Sylus chuckled softly as soon as he saw your reaction. Your soft whines were like sweet music to his ears, and it only fueled his desire. He continued to rub you, his fingers moving with slow, deliberate motions. He continues to tease you with a smirk on his face.

“That’s right, doll, just make pretty noises for me…let me hear how good it feels…”

Chills course your body at how good his touch feels, a feeling you could never make yourself experience.

Sylus could see the shiver that wracked your body, and he smirked in satisfaction. He knew you were feeling new sensations that you had never experienced before, and he had every intention of showing you how good it could feel to let another person take control.

“Shh, doll...” He increased the pressure and speed of his touch, rubbing you through the fabric of your panties.

“Take them off please Sy…” You beg and he leans down, cutting you off with a kiss, his fingers stilling. His lips taste of vanilla chapstick, the same one you use and you smile against his lips.

“Bought my chapstick hm?” You whisper against his soft lips, and he chuckles as he pulls away.

“Wanted to always taste like you. Now let’s take these off…”

Sylus slowly tugged down your panties, sliding them down your legs and discarding them on the floor, not caring where they landed.

He leaned back to get a good look at your body, his eyes roaming over your bare flesh with a hungry stare. His breath hitched in his chest, and he spoke in a low, primal voice, his hands tracing the curves and edges of your body.*

“Goddamn, you look so goddamn pretty just like this…” He shakes his head as he leans down and kisses your pelvic bone. You wince at the sudden contact, not used to the feeling of anyone’s lips on your body like that.

Sylus smirked as he saw you gasp and wince when his lips connected with your pelvic bone. He knew it was sensitive, and he loved seeing how your body responded to his touch.

“Tsk, doll, so sensitive aren’t you…”

He continued his trail of kisses, moving lower and lower, his mouth leaving behind a trail of wetness on your skin. His tongue licked and teased along your skin, and when he finally reached your core, he paused, his eyes flickering up to look at your flushed face.

“God, you’re so damn perfect…”

He didn’t wait for a response, his mouth immediately connecting with your sensitive bud, his tongue licking and sucking in a slow, sensual rhythm, groaning against you.

Your sounds fill his ears and his eyes roll back while he pleases you. He continued his ministrations, his lips and tongue moving in a steady rhythm. He could hear your soft gasps and whimpers, and he was determined to make you feel even more.

“Mmm, doll…you taste so sweet…like candy.”

Sylus then inserted a finger into you, gently sliding in and out, slowly, his touch still gentle, but it was getting less and less soft as his arousal grew.

You let out a loud moan and arch against him. Sylus couldn’t help but let out a deep, satisfied hum against your core when that moan escaped your lips. It was so damn sweet, and the way you arched your body against him made his own ache and throb.

“That’s it baby…moan for me…” His deep voice vibrates through your body.

Sylus continued his ministrations, his finger sliding in deeper and curling against your sensitive walls, his tongue never ceasing its assault on your clit.

“Sylus, I need you…” you whine and run a hand through his silver hair.

He chuckled in satisfaction; rough and dark against your core. His tongue still moving and circling at a skilled and steady pace, he responded in a low tone.

“Mhm, you need me, doll? Need me to make you feel good? Need me to make you cum?”

He then added another finger, sliding it in and out slowly, stretching you gently, his own body aching to give you more. After a few moments you finally speak up.

“Sy… No, I need you instead.” You whisper, and a soft groan rumbles in his chest as he hears your words.

He knew what you were asking for, and he knew he was no longer in control of his own desires.

“Mm, you want me to fill you up instead, huh?“

Sylus spoke in a low, guttural whisper as he pulled away from your core, his fingers slowly sliding out of you with a soft, wet sound.

He moves up your body and leans down to whisper, his hand spreading your thighs further.

“Say you want me, baby.” Sylus smiles against your neck, knowing you won’t be able to exist.

“I want you Sylus.” You whisper and he practically breaks; he moves away and quickly strips off his clothes. His tan bare body is on display and you gasp as your eyes land on his length.

He knows what your look is for and he chuckles, “We’ll make it fit baby, trust me.”

He was practically aching for you; not only was he teasing you, but he was teasing himself, he was dripping. All he wanted was to be inside of you, to finally go home.

Sylus lays back down and hovers above you, grinding himself against your core, gathering the slickness.

“I’ll treat you so good… I’ll go slow, okay? If it hurts, squeeze my hand…” He whispers and kisses you gently. You nod and he kisses you once more before positioning himself at your entrance.

Sylus slowly, carefully slid his way inside of you. The stretch you feel causes your eyes to water; he was so big, and it was a tight fit. You can’t help but let out a quiet whine.

“F-fuck, you feel so damn good…” He whispers and fully sheaths himself inside of you, his tip kissing your cervix. You squeeze his hand because of the pain, and he stills immediately.

Sylus grits his teeth, every inch of him screaming to just take you, but he keeps himself in check. He had promised to be gentle, to take it slow, to make your first time good, and he intended to keep his promise.

“S-s-sweetie, are you alright?” He whispers and lets out a groan as you loosen a bit, allowing him to move. He pulls back slowly and pushes back in, your walls fluttering around him, driving him mad.

“Can I?” He leans down and whispers as he kisses your neck.

“Mhm…” You moan and drag your nails up his back, earning a groan from him. He picks up his thrusts, burying himself deep inside you.

Your moans mix with his and fill the room; echoing off the walls, a pleasure you’ve never felt.

His movements were slow and measured. He continued to watch your face, monitoring your expressions, looking for any discomfort.

“You alright, baby?” Sylus spoke in a low, gentle tone, his body still sliding. He catches your nod and smiles before growing his pace.

He could feel you stretching around him, adapting to his size, and it was taking all of his restraint to control himself.

“God, doll, you’re so tight. So perfect. You feel so damn good around me.”

He kept going, increasing the speed and force of his movements, but still being careful to watch your face, to make sure he wasn’t going overboard.

You pull him down to kiss you, and he immediately complies, continuing his pace. His tongue slides into your mouth and dances along your own.

Sylus continued the kiss, his tongue moving against yours, his hands roaming your body, caressing and squeezing. The feeling of being inside you, the taste of your mouth, was all driving him crazy, but he was doing his best to keep himself in check, to keep the pace from becoming too rough.

“Mmm, doll. You taste so damn good. You’re making me crazy. So perfect, so goddamn beautiful.” He mumbles against your lips and you moan quietly.

“Faster…” you whisper and his heart immediately picks up, as well as his thrusts. The words he was waiting to hear. He chuckled at your words, the sound low and almost dangerous.

“Mhm, that’s a good girl. That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. You’re doing so well, you’re taking me so damn well...”

He increased the pace again, his movements harder and more powerful now, but still carefully measured, still holding himself back a little.

You notice his hesitation and you chuckle, “Don’t hold back Sy… Make me yours.”

Sylus could feel his restraint snap like a rubber band stretched too far. Hearing you tell him not to hold back did something to him, and he let out a deep, guttural growl.

“You’re going to be the death of me, doll...”

He follows your orders and fucks you harder and deeper. A bulge forms in your stomach and he watches it with a grin, the bed creaking with each thrust.

“Mmm, so pretty…” He presses down on your lower stomach where his cock is and you moan. The pressure of his hand and his thrusts send you overboard.

Sylus groans, before running a hand up and squeezing your breast that’s bouncing with every one of his thrusts.

“Taking me so good, aren’t you? Made for me…” He whispers and continues to fuck you into oblivion.

Sylus could feel it building, the tension building up inside him, the heat pooling in his stomach, and so could you.

“I’m so close, doll. So damn close. You’re doing so well, taking me so good, gonna fill you up...” He mumbles out a string of words and curses as your walls tighten around him.

“Sy…” you whisper and he nods, understanding what you mean.

“I know baby, cum with me.” He leans down and kisses your neck, leaving hickeys so everyone can see what’s his. His hand reaches down to rub your clit in time with his thrusts, circling it with the perfect amount of pressure to send you over the edge.

“I…” That is all you get out before your body arches up towards Sylus, finishing on his cock.

He groans and nearly collapses; the squeeze of your walls allows him to finish with you. He lets out low, pretty moans as he fills your womb with his cum, painting your walls white.

He slows his thrusts as his cum slowly comes to a stop, the two of you panting. He slowly lifts himself, remaining seated inside of you, and he kisses your forehead before kissing your lips.

A tender and slow kiss, showing how much he loves you, how much he desires you, and how grateful he is.

“I love you Y/N… Thank you.” Sylus mutters before kissing you once more. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You giggle and shake your head. “No, just a little sore…”

He chuckles lowly and slowly pulls out of you with a wet pop. The mixture of your essence pools down onto the bed, and he smirks.

“You did so good, sweetie…” He runs a finger along your folds, collecting the wetness onto his digit.

“Taste.” He lifts the finger to your lips and you suck it clean, a quiet moan escaping your lips. His softening cock twitches at the sight, but he ignores it and nods.

“Good girl… Now let’s get you cleaned up.” He smiles and gets off the bed, grabbing a tissue and wiping you quickly.

He throws it away before pulling you to your feet to take a bath.

“Come on, baby…” He smiles and leads you to the bathroom to ease your sore muscles. “Maybe we can go for another round.”

[salemlunaa]

VOID STATE: LAZINESS IS A DISEASE, GET WELL SOON 🧸

get your ass up and get your dream life

*mild tough love because some of you need this*

so alot of people go on about how they procrastinate the void and shifting to their new reality because of fear. but alot of you do not want or care to admit that , you’re just too fucking lazy. And to that i say seriously?? You know that you can have ANYTHING, absolutely ANYTHING and EVERYTHING you dream of, with just a trip to the void state and yet you hold it off. “I’ll do it tonight” you say, even though the most groundbreaking thing you have done today was scrolling through your phone on this app and others (which is time that could have been spent tapping in). You torture yourself scrolling through tiktok and instagram, looking at others from afar with jealousy wishing you had their lives. You add posts into your favourites telling yourself “i’ll have that life someday”, “i’ll have that body soon”, “when i shift i’ll be as pretty as her” (when you could literally have all that and better RIGHT NOW) You insert yourself in different narratives, shows and groups you wish you were apart of, when you could literally shift to a reality where you are there.

you don’t have to look at them with jealousy

you dont have to get upset about your shitty life

you don’t have to imagine

you don’t have to want for anything

you don’t have to yearn, long, desire

it can be yours, if i’m honest you should be more excited about this, scripting anything you could ever possibly dream of, even the little details, and they could be YOURS. you should start being so much more excited about this, about your dream life, like seriously. And that excitement about having everything should motivate you to tap in. Instead your lazy ass has adopted a loser mentality, doing absolutely nothing all day telling yourself you’ll “try at night” and when you don’t get in you repeat the cycle. You abandon responsibilities telling yourself it doesn’t matter because “youre gonna shift anyways”, and you don’t even put in the actual effort. It’s a very dangerous cycle to go down and you can go from moving round that cycle once to doing it 30 times and before you know it you’ve spent a month in this rut.

you don’t have to wait until the night and you know that so don’t give me bullshit. Take those limiting beliefs away and do it at any time of day when you get the chance.

Do you know how lucky you are to even have the access to learn about this shit. There are probably so many people much more disciplined than you, that would do so much with this information, who don’t even have access to the internet or any outside resources to even reach this sort of information and you’re fucking wasting your days lurking on this app. doing what? And it’s sad because, this community is so small meaning you are here for a reason my love, all that shit you went through and didn’t deserve, you looked at it all and knew there was more out there for you, knew that you were deserving of more. And i’ll be dammed if your lazy ass ruins it for yourself.

You have overcomplicated the void so much to the point where you’re scared to “fail” and “let yourself down” so you put it off and say you’ll “do it later”. Now remember, you cannot fail the void, you cannot fail something that is inside you, something that IS you. What you fail to do is stand firm in the fact that you’re a god and can do anything, everything is easy for you so get off your ass and go shift.

i just HAD to 🤭 @smellofemale

you deserve everything, and you CAN, in fact, have it all. JUST DO IT 🥥💋

[coldfanbou]

Kinkcember Day 8: Mommy

Mommy Sakura, I think she's a bit too hungry. Anyway, enjoy!

Length: 2.2K

Sakura X Mreader

You sweat as you carry the last box from your car to your apartment,  your muscles aching after over an hour of moving boxes up from the ground floor. Reaching your floor for the last time, you jiggle the door open and step in. You stretch your arms up to the sky after setting the last box down. You look around your new apartment, finally on your own. You consider where to start unpacking when there’s a knock on your door. You turn around to see a beautiful woman standing in your doorway. She gives you a small wave and stretches her arm out, offering you a water bottle, “Welcome to the neighborhood; I thought I’d introduce myself. I’m Sakura; I live right next door, actually.” 

You take the water, “It’s nice to meet you, Sakura.” You take a swig of water, “I’ll try not to bother you; I’ll be up late at night pretty often.”

“Oh? Why’s that?” 

“I’m a student at the nearby college; I’ll be studying a lot and busy with a lot of other things.”

“Ohh, a college student,” Sakura repeats, a grin forming. “I’ve heard that you guys get busy; maybe I’ll come by and help you…like a mom away from home,” She says with a laugh. 

“Mmm,” you hum, “Yeah, well, if I ever need anything, I’ll come to you.” 

“Alright, I’ll see you around,” Sakura says, leaving you alone in your apartment. You take another sip of water before beginning the unpacking process. You work around the clock putting away clothes and arranging your space when it becomes evening. There was another knock on the door, and you head over. Checking through the peephole, you see Sakura holding a covered plate. She reaches up, ready to knock again when you open the door. “Hi again; I thought I'd bring you over some food. You haven’t eaten yet, right?” Sakura pushes the plate forward; I made a little too much and thought you’d like some. It’s curry.”

“Oh, thanks, Sakura. I was getting kind of hungry. Would you like to come inside?”

“I’d love to.” Sakura hands you the plate and steps inside your home, looking around to see how you’ve decorated it.

“It’s not much yet, but it’ll get there in time, " you say, grabbing a spoon from the kitchen before sitting in the living room. You uncover the curry; it's still warm, with condensation covering the foil she used to cover it. You take a spoonful and start eating as Sakura sits beside you.

“It’s nice, though; I’m sure your girlfriend will like it. Or she can decorate a little.”

“Ah, well, that’s a nice thought but…I don’t have a girlfriend.”

Sakura feigns shock, “Uhm, I’m sorry. I just assumed that you would. I mean, you’re cute, so I just thought.” Sakura stumbles through her words. Internally, though, she’s praising God; it would make things so much easier for her. 

You wave her off, “It’s okay, maybe someday I’ll get one,” you say in jest. You take another bite of the food, “You make a really good curry, though,” you say, awkwardly changing the subject. 

Sakura smiles, “I can cook for you sometimes.” She pats her lap, excited at the prospect of getting closer to you, “I don’t really have anyone around either, so it wouldn’t be a problem. It could be here or at my place.” The two of you continue talking as you eat; while you’re speaking, Sakura's thoughts become less than pure. She manages to hold herself together as your conversation reaches its natural end and you finish eating. “It was nice talking; I’ll see you soon.” She says, taking the plate from you just as you finish. “I’ll be going now,” She bows and leaves the apartment quickly. You’re left a little confused because of how quickly she decided to leave, but you put it in the back of your mind as you get ready to shower and then sleep.

In her home, Sakura rushes to her bedroom and throws herself onto her bed. She slips her fingers underneath her jeans and moves her fingers around her clit, moaning as she imagines what you must be like in bed. Sakura just loved younger men, and you were the perfect fit for her. She imagined your hands on her body, groping her, and it drove her crazy.

Over the next few weeks, as your classes began and you found yourself busier and busier with work, Sakura wormed her way into your routine, bringing you food, doing your laundry, and occasionally cleaning up around your apartment. Sakura even began referring to herself as your mommy, teasing you as she did all the work around your apartment. She did it to help you, but she was also getting something out of it. She would smell your clothing before washing it, your scent fueling her desires. She thought to herself about how to bring up the topic of taking things further. You appreciate her help and buy her a small gift as a thank you. You wrap it nicely and hold onto it until Sakura comes by again. 

Sakura came by the next day; she greeted you warmly and put on an apron as she prepared to cook you something. “Hey, Sakura. I got you something to say thanks.” 

“Huh? You didn’t have to. I just wanted to help you. You’ve been so busy with college that I thought an older woman like me should help you.” Sakura protests, waving her hands.  

“It’s something small. Here,” you place a small box on the counter. 

“You really didn’t have to.” At that moment, the idea popped into Sakura’s head; this was her opportunity to push things further. She unties her apron, placing it on the counter next to your gift. “There’s actually something else I’d like.”

“What is it?”

“It’s been a while since I’ve been with someone. So…I’d like it if you’d…” Sakura considered what word to use, one that was more reserved or one that she felt best described her desires. “I want you to fuck me,” She says plainly. Sakura inches closer to you, grabbing your hands and placing them around her waist before wrapping her arms around your neck. “I’ve played the role of your mommy by helping you around here. Now I’d like you to return the favor and help mommy cum.” Sakura said in a low, sultry voice, unlike any you’ve ever heard from her. “Please?” She asks, tilting her head to the side.

You had to admit that you hadn’t expected this sort of situation, but you didn’t mind getting this kind of attention from Sakura. She was a beautiful woman, after all. “Alright, if that’s all you want.”

Sakura smiles, “It is; Mommy will show you how good she can take it.” You move your hands down to Sakura’s thighs and lift her, taking her to your bedroom. You toss her on the bed, and she quickly strips off her clothing, her craving for you hitting an all-time high now that she is so close to getting you. You strip off your clothing and crawl over Sakura, who quickly rolls you onto your back.

Sakura straddles you, rubbing your cock against her wet slit. “Mmm, you have no idea how much I’ve wanted this.” She leans over, kissing your cheek. “Now, fuck mommy as hard as you can. Make me cum, and don’t stop until I say so.” She aligns your cock with her entrance and pushes you inside. Sakura groans as she feels you stretch her cunt. “Oh, you’re so big,” she grunts, adjusting herself. She places her hands on your thighs and leans back as she begins to move. Your cock slides in and out of her with ease. You enjoy the feeling of her walls clamping down on your cock for a moment, letting Sakura do all the work before grabbing onto her waist. You slam yourself into the deepest part of her cunt, knocking against her womb. “That’s it, baby, fuck mommy,” She moans, feeling you deep inside her. You hold her as you begin thrusting, ramming yourself inside her tight cunt. Sakura leans back, her moans filling the room, and she smiles with pure glee. She was happy to have you finally; she focused on the feeling of your cock stirring her inside. The pleasure was making her lose her mind. You had just started, but you were already pushing her to her climax. 

Sakura’s walls only got tighter as you went on. You wanted more of her. Rolling her onto her back, you push her legs to her ears and drive your cock deeper into her. Sakura groans, her toes curl as she reaches her climax. Her walls clamp down on your cock, and she cums. Her nectar splashes onto her stomach and chest as you continue to thrust. “Baby, keep going!” She cries out, gripping the bedsheets so hard her knuckles are turning white. You steal a kiss from Sakura as you continue to ruin her, driving her crazy as the pleasure continues to crash over her. She can feel herself slipping away as your cock reshapes her cunt. You sucked on Sakura’s tongue after she stuck out unconsciously. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as you pushed her to another orgasm. Her cries of pleasure flowed endlessly as you pounded away at her body.

“I’m cumming, mommy.” You grunt, struggling to keep your pace now that your body is on edge. 

“Inside!” Sakura shouts, her arms reaching out as she tries to hold you. You bury yourself inside Sakura, flooding her pussy with your cum. A euphoric smile is plastered on her face as your warm cum invades her body, heating her from the inside. You gain your bearings and drag your cock out Sakura, letting her legs fall down. Cum leaks out of her as she remains on the bed. 

She slowly rolls onto her back and raises her ass into the air. “Keep going, baby; I want more. Please fuck your dirty mommy more,” Semen drips from her cunt as Sakura presses her face against a pillow, waiting for you to take her again. 

You grasp your cock and press it against her entrance. You slip in easily, returning to her snug cunt. You grip her ass, the soft cheeks melting into your hands as you bury yourself inside her. Sakura moaned into the pillow as she felt your cock fill her again. She was thanking God she met you with every thrust. You enjoyed the sight, watching Sakura's ass bounce on your cock. You reach back and slap the jiggling meat. She yelps and begs for more. “Spank me, baby, make me yours.” She moans. You continue to punish her ass, leaving your hand imprinted on her skin as you drive her further into the mattress. You push her face into the pillow as you angle her better. Sakura's brain stops working as she cums a third time; her body shuts down and is only held up by you as you continue driving your cock into her womb. Your climax approaches slowly, but you reach the peak once more and fill Sakura’s cunt with another load of cum. You keep yourself inside Sakura and bring her down with you, using her as a cockwarmer.

When morning comes, you find Sakura between your legs, her tongue caressing the sides of your shaft. “Good morning, baby.” She says as she pulls away, her hand strokes your cock gently, “I thought it would be nice to wake up to mommy give you a nice blowjob. Does that sound good?” 

“That sounds good,” you coo as she rubs the tip with her thumb. 

“Great, let me finish.” Sakura presses her soft lips on the tip and slowly pushes you in. Her tongue swirls around the tip before running along the underside as she bobs her head. She moans softly, your musk flooding her nose and making her hungry for more. She allowed you into her throat, relaxing her muscles around you as she reached your pelvis.  Sakura pulls back slowly, letting you enjoy the pleasure. She strokes your shaft as she focuses on the head, running her tongue around the head.  “You can cum whenever your want, baby. Mommy will drink it all.” Sakura was sure of that. She wouldn’t waste a drop. She latched onto your cock, working her tongue all over it until you came into her mouth. As soon as the first drop hit her tongue, she was in love. She swallowed every drop, drinking your cum as it came. 

Once you were done, she popped you out of her mouth and let you look inside. Her mouth was empty, and she was proud of it. Sakura kept her hand on your cock, stroking it gently. “Listen, baby, while you’re here for college, I’ll do all the cooking and cleaning. You don’t have to pay me; all you have to do is fuck me like you did last night. It’s all I want. Mommy will be here for you to use whenever you want, too.”

“You have a deal, mommy.” You groan as she jerks you off. “And I want you right now,” Sakura smirked, happy you’re taking advantage of the last part already.

[bluelocksource]

U-20 Japan National Team Match Just Before the Game: A Day in Daily Life at Blue Lock.

Isagi: "I styled my hair. The little sprout on top of my head looks great today! Just then, Bachira came up and said, "Harvest ♪" while grabbing it tightly. No matter how much I tried to escape, he kept holding on. I resigned myself to it and let him grip it for a while until he got bored and went off somewhere. What a free spirit!"

Gagamaru: "There’s no nature inside Blue Lock. I wanted to see trees and flowers. Anything would be fine. Just something green. While I was looking around, I found Otoya. His bangs are green, so when I stared at him, he said, "Not into guys."

Aryū: "Little by little, the Blue Lock folks are starting to get a taste of 'Osha.' But in truly 'Osha' moments, people shine. I swear here that one day I’ll show that!"

Niko: "I was caught washing my forehead by Aryū-kun. It was embarrassing. But he taught me, 'Embarrassment is an important emotion that makes us human.' I became interested in Aryū-kun. I want to know a little more about this 'Osha' thing."

Chigiri: "I fell asleep while drying my hair. There’s no one here to wake me up. My hair is long, so it takes a while. Maybe I'll cut it next summer."

Bachira: "When I was walking around n*k*d, Karasu scolded me! Otoya joined me in being n*k*d ♪ Isagi... treated me the same as always! It seems he’s gotten tired of making remarks at my n*k*dn*ss. What a strange guy."

Karasu: "I found myself in the bath with Hiori. We didn't really have a conversation, but that was perfectly fine. I think we were both comfortable with it. It was great to see him looking well. I'm glad we had the chance to meet again."

Nagi: "I ate alone. I did the laundry by myself. I’ve become able to train on my own. I'm proud of myself. Changing is fun, but it can also be a hassle and a little lonely. Still, I think it's an important thing."

Otoya: "I contacted some girls I know on my smartphone after a long time. Most of them didn’t respond. It turns out that not keeping in touch regularly really does make girls dislike you. On to the next one! Woohoo ♪"

Yukimiya: "I talked about various things with Nagi-kun. Like the things we like, and how we've managed to get this far. It seems that for Nagi-kun, the existence of Isagi is significant. It's a story that doesn't really concern me, but having a rival like that feels nice somehow."

Rin: "When I woke up in the morning, my left lower eyelash was turned inside out and it hurt my eye. It happens sometimes, right? Bedhead with lower eyelashes. Huh? Is it just me? My brother said he has it... Oh, don't remind me of that guy. What a terrible wake-up!"

Hiori: "I trained with Isagi-kun. I sent in crosses, and Isagi-kun delivered a direct shot. With each one, he practices with intention and communicates well. He’s a smart type. He’s a bit like Karasu, too. I don’t dislike Isagi Yoichi."

Reo: "I ate alone and trained alone. It’s been a while since I did anything by myself. I can live on my own, but I dream of things I can’t do alone. I have to change. It’s not over yet. Someday, I’ll do it once more."

Barou: "I touched up the "X" shave on my temple. One line represents my murderous intent towards others, and the other represents my murderous intent towards myself. What’s that? Don’t look at me, you stinky guy (Nagi). It’s not a mark saying to give me a headshot here!"

Igaguri: "My hair had gotten long, so I asked Shidou to cut it with clippers, and he ended up giving me a heart-shaped bald spot on the back of my head. Love Amida Buddha…"

Ishikari: "I suddenly felt like playing basketball, so I asked Anri-chan for a basketball. I gathered some people randomly, and it turned out Kiyora was surprisingly really good. Basketball is so much fun!"

Kurona: "Good morning, good morning. Hello, hello. Good night, good night. Greetings are important, very important. It’s a given, but it’s precious. Everyone’s everyday life, everyday life."

Kiyora: "For dinner today, should I have croquettes or minced cutlets? My heart is 50% 50%. I feel like both choices are correct, but I also think I’d regret whichever one I choose. Alright. I’ll eat both. ………………………… Damn, I ate too much and my stomach hurts. Should I lie down or go to the bathroom? The borderline starts again."

Zantetsu: "It's better to brush your teeth properly every day, I told everyone. They replied, 'You should study more.' Well, if you get a cavity, don't say I didn't warn you!"

Tokimitsu: "I was saying, 'I lack confidence. I want confidence,' when Karasu-kun teased me, saying, 'It was just lying in the bathroom earlier, right?' Ugh… come on, don’t mess with me for real… Well, I went to check the bathroom anyway… but of course, it wasn’t there! Uwaaa!"

Nanase: "I washed my headband. When I put it in the dryer, it shrank a lot... what should I do? For now, I just wore it as it was that day. My head felt 'juri juri' (itchy)... Oh, I mean it felt 'zuki zuki' (throbbing). There goes my dialect again! Hehe, sorry about that!"

Hiiragi: "I used my hobby of tarot cards to predict my future. The 'Devil' card came up… Well, it's just a fortune-telling, right? Nothing to worry about! Right?"

Raichi: "I got really into a sideburns talk with Ishikari! His sideburns are pretty good, but mine are definitely cooler! In the end, we ended up arguing about it!"

Shidou: "I woke up. My mind feels clear. Yeah, it’s a good start today. In the afternoon, my body feels energized. I can sense my cells buzzing with excitement. At night, my heart feels restless. I’m sure something will happen tomorrow. I want to experience this night, knowing I can sleep with that thought, over and over again."

Ego: "Anri-chan was drooling and sleeping at her desk. She should sleep in her own room. Well, I decided to show a little concern for her. With this, she’ll probably listen to me for a while again. Kindness has its intentions. That’s how humans are."

Anri: "I was given an assignment by Ego-san to come up with ideas to make the existence of the Blue Lock better known to the world. Since that day, I've been stressed and having strange nightmares. Damn it… I want to sleep well! I’ll do my best!"

source: Egoist Bible 2

[gayasswitchbitch]

Here is a little funny idea? How would the monster trio (also Ace or Usopp or Sabo or Law) react to their girlfriend jokingly say “you’re definitely wearing that for our wedding” (or something like that) if she saw them wearing a fancy suit (or whatever?)😅

Whew okay this was HARD and only because I love Ace so much and I wanted to perfect his part and it stressed me tf out. Anyways I hope you enjoy!

One piece- How they react when you say “You should wear that to our wedding”

Warnings: a little suggestive on Zoro and Usopp. Aces has his insecure angsty thoughts.

Charcters- Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Usopp, Law, Sabo, and Ace

Luffy- “wedding? What are you talking about?” He looks puzzled. We can’t get married yet! I have to be king of the of the pirates first dummy!”

It’s definitely second on his list. Once he’s titled king the next thing to do is make you his wife obviously (and queen of the pirates)

In a way it’s celebratory of this new chapter in his life. A new title, a new job, new way of life and a new step in your relationship all at once sounds like a good idea to him.

Zoro- “wedding? What are you talking about you crazy woman?”

“Excuse me! It was a simple joke! All I was really saying is that you look amazing but now I take it back since you want to be an ass!” You retort. You did mean it, the idea of seeing him at the altar with that tight black suit was clouding your mind, but now that he was rude about it you don’t want to give him the satisfaction!

“An ass? You’re the one throwing that shit on me out of nowhere! Who says that so casually anyway!?” You hadn’t noticed before.. but maybe the reason Zoro became so flustered has something to do with how red his face his. ‘Is he.. no he can’t be’ you think.

“Zoro.. are you blushing?”

“OF COURSE IM NOT!”

“Zoro you’re blushing! At the thought of marrying me? Oh, who knew you could be such a little sap!”

“Shut up! You’re lucky I tolerate you at all!” He yells back. He’s trying his best to seem uncaring, cool, and calm but it’s not working. Secretly, or really not as secretly as he would like, the idea of seeing you in a pretty dress and then taking you home after to start the honeymoon makes his body hot. He thinks arguing with you will make him forget about it.. but he also forgets he kind of likes it when you fight with him ;)

Sanji- This man melts to the damn floor. He’s both in shock and utter euphoria. He’s a little puddle on the ground, holding onto your ankles, mumbling about “I can’t believe im so lucky, so loved, this is the best day of my life” but in a second he’s back to his feet, shoving his face so close to yours his chin hairs are tickling you. “My love, tell me you’re joking I can’t handle this.”

Once you explain that you do in fact want to marry him someday he starts bawling. “Okay then we need to start planning now. I assume you’ll be wearing white, I’ll wear white too of course. We need to pick the flowers. Roses are always a good choice they’re a symbol of love but so overdone maybe we should do lilies.. oh but-“

“Sanji!” You yell. “I said SOMEDAY not immediately right now! And how are you speaking so fast while sobbing you need to sit down!”

But he doesn’t. Now that you said it it’s all he can think about and will not stop planning and talking about it and driving you crazy until the day you’re at that fucking altar and you better believe he’s making it the most beautiful and spectacular wedding you ever saw.

Usopp- Usopp goes red. A red you’ve never even seen before he’s so flustered. “W-wedding? Like- marriage? Like-you marrying me?” You tilt your head to the side a little confused and bemused at the same time.

“Well, Honey… we have been together for a long time.. I assumed we would get married one day. And again, when we do you HAVE to wear that.” You walked up to the shivering man and lock your arms around his neck. “Maybe not for too long though.. seeing how it looks.. I might not be able to stop myself from-“

“OKAY Y/N! That’s enough for now! I can’t handle any more of your flirting!”

You would think he’d be used to it by now 🤷‍♀️

Sabo- “Oh? How forward of you y/n” he smirks. He’s looking deep into your eyes, the most adoring look on his face. “Am I to presume this is your way of proposing? I mean I wanted to be the one to do it, but how can I resist when my beautiful girl is the one doing it? I guess I’ll have to give you this so you can do it right.” Sabo digs in his pockets for a moment before pulling out a small square box. He’s a smart man. He knew a long time ago that he was going to marry you. He was just waiting for the right time to ask.

Law- Man CHOKES on air for a second and has to fight for his life to regain composure.

Of course you would think of marriage. That’s a very normal sequence of a relationship. You meet, become friends, date, and then.. well he honestly hadn’t considered it. Law liked how things were. He didn’t see a reason to change it. Law liked staying up late to wait for your knock on the office door, you peeking your head in and asking if he’s busy. Of course he was busy, he was always busy, but he liked when you would intrude, when you’d ask how his studying was going and he really liked when you would push the book away and slide into his lap to spend the rest of the night kissing him all over.

Remembering all these nights brings a smile to his face. He knew he’d be an idiot to let that go. Maybe having those nights for the rest of his life wouldn’t be horrible.

Ace- After hearing those words from your mouth Ace freezes in place and for the first time in his life, Ace is praying to gods he didn’t believe in and begging them to keep you close to him for as long as possible.

When Ace first asked you to be his girlfriend he had a hard time believing that you said yes. It was like he was dreaming and has been dreaming ever since. The thought of you wanting more, a marriage, is unfathomable to him at first.

It would be a lie to say he’s never thought about it, but the times he has only broke his heart. “Don’t kid yourself” he’d think. “There’s no way she’ll stay with me that long. It’s only a matter of time before she realizes I don’t deserve her. That I’m not worthy of her love. That there has to be someone better for her out there.”

Overall what mattered to Ace most is that you’re happy. “No matter how little, any time would be enough with her” he often thought to himself. At least he got to touch you, kiss you, make you smile. He cherishes every second as much as he can. Anytime you throw your head back in laughter, anytime you kissed him, anytime you said “I love you.” he knew these would be the moments he would look back on when he thought of you. On those days where he’s missing you a little more and you’re long gone with the actual love of your life.

So for you to bring up marrying him so casually sent his brain into overdrive. It would take Ace a few minutes to realize you had actually said that, and that he wasn’t hallucinating. It’s truly hard for him to comprehend that you love him so much. He would ask if you were joking at least five times before it really settled in. Once it did he would be elated, jumping around like a little kid, his mouth moving a mile a minute going on about how much he loves you and planting kisses on every seeable inch of skin.

Ace finally stops jumping around like an excited puppy to pull you in closer. He reaches his warm, strong arms around you and pulls you in closer. With a final kiss on your cheek, Ace rests his head on your shoulder.

“You’d marry me?” He’d ask looking up with a goofy grin.

“Ace.. we’ve been dating for forever and I love you.. why wouldn’t I want to marry you someday?”

That was all Ace needed. He’s running to the nearest town to sell everything on his body if he needs to. He doesn’t care the cost, he needs a ring and needs it now. Ace now has to propose as soon as possible.

Now that he knows you’d actually marry him he’s locking you down before you get the chance to rethink…not that you ever would.

[buckets-and-trees]

Obsidian Stain and Sin

Characters/Pairings: soft!dark Ari Levinson x Female!Reader, soft!dark Curtis Everett x Female!Reader, Ari x Reader x Curtis Word Count: 8.1k Summary: You've thought of getting your first tattoo for a long time. When you walk into Obsidian Stain Studio, you experience services beyond what you bargained for.

Content/Warnings: tattooing/needles, DUBIOUS CONSENT, explicit smut, semi-public sex, vaginal fingering, kissing, anal play/rimming (female receiving), eating it from behind, vaginal intercourse, unprotected sex, praise kink, innocence kink, corruption kink, size kink, manhandling, fade to black/abrupt ending

Author Notes: I've had this idea all summer. I've been eager to write it, but literally the muse only kept teasing me with it until literally about six hours ago when she said, WE'RE DOING THIS, AND WE'RE DOING THIS NOW, so it's almost late/maybe it's still you're birthday week for a hot minute in some time zone, but I'm slipping this to you @stargazingfangirl18 for your Birthday Bonenanza! Literally, when I tell you that when you originally tagged me in the announcement, and I read over the myriad of prompts, I thought, "Oh, wow, this is so tattoo Curtis and Ari coded, it HAS TO happen for Siri's birthday..." that's really how my brain thought it was finally going to get the jump on working on this. But then no. Then that other Steve story happened, and I was stoked about that. Then the new chapter for Nomad Steve, and I thought, ah well, still fun stuff, maybe someday this, and then AT THE LAST MOMENT, Muse pulled a plot twist. So here's some ruinous hoe shit. Multiple dialogue prompts from the challenge are used here, and you'll find them in bold.

A/N 2: Shout out to @vonalyn for a few convos hashing out some of this concept!

You are surprised by the tinkling of a classic bell hanging over the door that rings pleasantly as you enter the tattoo parlor.

A man behind the reception desk immediately looks up to greet you. He doesn’t shoot you a phony, business-y smile, but his demeanor is still warm and approachable. “Welcome,” he greets you. “Walk-in or appointment?” he asks.

“Um, walk-in,” you manage. In a black t-shirt with shoulders that are nearly bursting through the fabric, lush hair and beard, and striking blue eyes, he’s more than an impressive specimen. “If you’ve got an opening?” you quickly add.

“Sure, we can take you,” he says. His gaze flicks to a scheduling book in front of him on the counter. “A couple of the boys are on break or about to finish up with other clients. Your first time here, yes?”

You nod. “First tattoo ever.”

“Oh,” he says, and his eyes brighten. “Even better. Let’s get you booked in.”

He takes your name, email, and phone number to set up a profile for you in their system. There are some electronic consent forms that he takes you through and has you agree to and sign on an iPad, and then he takes asks a few questions about what you’re interested in.

“Based off what you have in mind, Curtis might be the best artist, but he won’t be finished for maybe an hour.”

“Ah,” you look at your watch. It was a bit of an impromptu idea for you to drop in to get the tattoo this afternoon, and you had time, but you had probably been foolish thinking a walk-in was any sort of good idea.

“But,” he interjects, “I’ve got two other guys who are excellent, and either one of them should be ready to take you pretty soon. Take a seat just over there, and I’ll go check in with them and get a call on time for you. I’ll also grab you a drink. Pick your poison - we’ve got water or Coke products.”

You give him your preference, and he nods and smiles.

“Right then, sit tight, and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

He disappears around the corner, and you do as you’ve been told and take a seat on one of the black leather couches in the lobby.

Now you have time to really take in your surroundings. The walls are black with white moldings at the floor and ceiling, and the hardwood floors are a warm walnut. Everything is dark but clean. Classic but clearly in line with current trends. On the wall behind the desk, there’s a gorgeous, white-lettered feature with shop name - Obsidian Stain Studio - that’s sleek and impressive. On the wall next to you, there are ten framed pieces of art on the wall in a mix of sizes, some of them hand-drawn artwork, and the rest photos of finished tattoos on skin.

You’re nervous but determined not to be, so you cross your legs and try to keep your anxious energy limited to just running your fingers back and forth over the edge of your phone. Looking at the different designs on the wall does serve to capture your attention, though, and quell your nerves slightly.

The man working reception returns and hands you the drink. “We should have you back there in a chair in ten or fifteen minutes.”

“Great,” you respond, and the nerves kick up a notch, but it’s with a surge of excitement.

This is happening.

You take a sip of your drink, grateful for something to occupy your hands. The cool liquid helps soothe your nerves a bit. As you wait, you observe a few other clients entering and leaving the shop checking in or paying as they leave. Some sport fresh bandages, while others are clearly here for consultations, clutching sketches or reference photos.

The buzzing of tattoo machines creates a constant backdrop of sound, occasionally punctuated by muffled laughter or conversation from the back rooms. The atmosphere is more relaxed than you expected, nineties music underscoring it all.

As you wait, a couple emerges from behind the partition separating the lobby from the work area. They're both grinning, the woman cradling her forearm gently. Her companion is animatedly discussing something with her, gesturing excitedly. You catch a glimpse of fresh ink on her skin as they pass – a vibrant butterfly with intricate, colorful wings.

The sight makes your heart race a little faster. Soon, that'll be you walking out with fresh art on your body. The thought is both thrilling and slightly terrifying.

But you won’t be walking out with a friend or partner.

Your gaze wanders back to the artwork on the walls. One piece in particular catches your eye – an intricate mandala design with flowing lines and delicate detail. You find yourself drawn to its symmetry and complexity.

"Which one’s got your attention?" a voice asks, startling you from your reverie. You look up to see someone you can only describe as a lion of a man standing before you. All of his attention is focused on you like you’re his next prey. He towers over you with a mane of golden brown hair that’s grown out to tuck nicely behind his ears and curls out at his neck. He’s got a broad chest and shoulders covered in a denim shirt with a few buttons undone and the sleeves rolled up past his elbows. You can see peeks of ink mingled with some chest hair as well as intricate designs over his forearms. His dark blue eyes are zeroed in on you in a way that both unsettles and steadies you at the same time.

You point at the mandala, and the man smiles. “That’s one of Steve’s. He says you’re here for your first tattoo.”

“He… wait, is that Steve?” You nod and glance over at the man at the front desk who’s now consulting with an older man and showing him a few designs.

“Yep, he owns the place and loves to work the front almost as much as the back with the rest of us. I’m Ari, by the way.” He puts his hand out, inviting you to shake hands.

You push up from the couch, stand, and offer your hand for the shake. It’s engulfed easily by his big, warm, calloused hand.

“I’m the one who’s going to make your first time special.”

Your heart stutters and your face flushes. He didn’t just… your mind races. Did he?

He chuckles and drops your hand quickly. “Follow me,” he says and turns and begins striding into the back.

You fall into step behind Ari, your eyes inevitably drawn to his broad shoulders and the confident swagger in his step. The back area is an open space divided into several stations with partial walls, each with its own tattoo chair and equipment, creating semi-private booths. Ari leads you to one in the back corner.

"Have a seat," he says, gesturing to the chair.

You perch on the edge, your nerves returning full force. The air is thick with the scent of antiseptic and ink.

He pulls up a rolling stool and sits, leaning in close. "So, tell me about this tattoo you want."

You explain your idea - a simple constellation of stars for your zodiac sign - watching as his blue eyes light up with interest. He nods along, occasionally asking questions or offering suggestions. His enthusiasm is infectious, and you find yourself relaxing despite the butterflies in your stomach.

"Alright, I think I know what you're after," Ari says, reaching for a sketchpad. "Let me rough out a design for you."

You watch, mesmerized, as Ari's hand moves swiftly across the paper. His brow furrows in concentration, and you find yourself studying the angles of his face, the way his beard accentuates his strong jaw. Within minutes, he presents you with a design that takes your breath away.

"What do you think?" he asks, a hint of pride in his voice.

The constellation is there, just as you imagined, but Ari has added subtle details that elevate it beyond your expectations. Delicate lines connect the stars, and a hint of shadowing gives the piece depth and movement.

"It's perfect," you breathe, unable to take your eyes off the sketch.

Ari grins, clearly pleased with your reaction. "Great. Now, let's talk placement."

You indicate the spot you've chosen - your inner wrist. Ari nods approvingly. "Good choice. Nice and visible, but easy to cover if needed. Mind if I take a look?"

You extend your arm, and Ari gently takes your wrist in his large hands. His touch is surprisingly soft as he examines the area, his fingers tracing the spot where your tattoo will soon be. You can't help but notice the contrast between his rough, inked skin and your own unmarked flesh.

"Nice canvas," he murmurs, more to himself than to you. "Skin's good here. This'll work well." He looks up, catching your eye. "Ready to get started?"

You nod, a mix of excitement and nervousness bubbling in your chest.

“You’re a sweet, innocent thing, aren’t you?”

You open your mouth but shut it again, unsure how to respond, and he brushes his thumb over the pulse on your inner wrist, and you think you see his eyes darken.

He releases your wrist and turns to prepare his equipment. You’re frozen in place, but luckily that’s fine as it’s not necessary for you to move. You watch as he efficiently sets up his station, laying out ink caps, adjusting his machine, and pulling on a fresh pair of black latex gloves. The buzz of the tattoo machine as he tests it sends a jolt of excitement and nervousness through you.

"Alright, I'm going to clean the area now," he says, swabbing your wrist.

His touch is clinical now, professional, as he prepares your skin. The cool antiseptic makes you shiver slightly.

"Cold?" he asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"A little," you admit.

"Don't worry, I’ll have you warm soon enough," he says with a wink that makes your cheeks flush.

Ari places the stencil on your wrist, pressing it gently to transfer the design. When he peels it away, you see the outline of your constellation on your skin for the first time. It sends a thrill through you - this is really happening.

"Make sure you’re happy with the placement before we start," he instructs. "This is your last chance to change your mind."

You focus to examine the design on your skin more closely, heart racing. It looks even better than you imagined.

"It's perfect," you say, unable to keep the excitement from your voice.

Ari grins. "Alright then, let's make it permanent. You ready?"

You nod, settling back into the chair and extending your arm.

Ari takes your arm gently, positioning it just so on the armrest. "Now, I need you to stay as still as possible," he says, his voice low and soothing. "It's going to hurt a bit, especially at first. But I promise, I'll be as gentle as I can."

The buzz of the machine fills your ears as Ari brings the needle to your skin. You hold your breath, bracing for the pain.

The first touch of the needle is a sharp, burning sensation that makes you wince. Ari pauses, his eyes flicking to your face. "You okay?"

You nod, determined. "I'm fine. Keep going."

“Move an inch, and you’ll be sorry.”

You open your mouth wordlessly again, and he laughs.

“Only joking. I know you’re going to be a good girl for me, aren’t you?”

You bite your lip and nod, something fluttering in your stomach, mixing wickedly with your nerves and the uncertainty around this man who skirts between being casual, soothing your nerves, concentration on his craft, and making these comments that insinuate and evoke wholly inappropriate thoughts.

He smiles, then concentrates back on your wrist and resumes his work. Gradually, the initial shock of pain fades into a more manageable discomfort. You find yourself relaxing, mesmerized by the steady movement of Ari's hand and the way the muscles in his biceps move and flex.

As Ari continues, your eyes shift to his face. His brow is furrowed in concentration, his blue eyes focused intently on your skin. There's something mesmerizing about watching him work, seeing the care and precision he puts into every line. The buzz of the machine becomes almost soothing, a constant backdrop to the occasional murmur of voices from other stations.

"So," Ari says after a while, breaking the silence without looking up from his work, "what made you decide to get your first tattoo today?"

You hesitate, unsure how much to share. "It's… kind of a long story."

Ari glances up, a small smile playing on his lips. "We've got time. I'm not going anywhere, and neither are you."

You take a deep breath, wincing slightly as the needle hits a sensitive spot. "I've been thinking about it for a while. But today… today felt like it was finally the day to take the leap."

"Spontaneous decision, huh? Those can be the best kind."

You nod, feeling the heat creep up your neck. "I guess I just wanted to do something for myself. Something permanent.”

Ari nods thoughtfully, his eyes still focused on your wrist. "Sometimes we need a physical reminder of the changes we're making inside," he says softly. "Something to look at and think, 'Yeah, I did that. I made that choice.'"

His words resonate with you, and you find yourself relaxing further. The pain has faded to a dull, almost pleasant sensation.

"So, what's your story?" you ask, curiosity getting the better of you. "How did you get into tattooing?"

Ari chuckles, pausing to wipe away excess ink. "Now that's definitely a long story. But the short version? I was a troubled kid, got into some bad stuff. Tattooing saved me, gave me a purpose."

He glances up, meeting your eyes. "There's something powerful about creating permanent art on someone's body.”

The words send another thrill through your body and you nod, trying to ignore the way your pulse quickens at his intense gaze. "I can see that," you manage to say.

Ari returns his attention to your wrist, a small smile playing on his lips. "It's intimate, you know? Creating something that becomes a part of someone forever."

The word 'intimate' hangs in the air between you, charged with unspoken tension. You're acutely aware of the warmth of his hand on your skin, the gentle pressure as he works.

“You’re the one Steve says I nearly got to mark for the first time,” a new voice startles you, and you jump slightly in your chair.

Ari tsks, but his left hand had been holding your arm down firmly.

The other man chuckles. “Sorry, sugar.”

He steps closer, coming into Ari’s booth. He looks to be slightly taller than Ari, and a shade leaner, but he’s still built with more muscles than the common man. His hair is dark, shorn close to his head, and a dark beard covers his angular jaw. Ice blue eyes pierce into you, and you fight hard to suppress an actual shiver running down your spine.

"Curtis," Ari says without looking up, his tone a mix of amusement and mild irritation. "Didn't anyone teach you it's rude to interrupt?"

Curtis leans against the partition, crossing his arms over his chest. The movement draws your attention to the intricate tattoos covering his forearms. He’s got more ink than Ari.

"Just wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Steve said we had a noteworthy first-timer."

You feel your face flush, unsure whether to be flattered or embarrassed. Curtis's gaze is intense, almost predatory, as he looks you over.

"Well, now you've seen," Ari says, his voice tight. "Don't you have your own client to attend to?"

Curtis huffs. "Just finished up. Thought I'd come say hello." He turns his attention back to you. "How're you holding up, sweetheart? Ari treating you right?"

You nod, finding your voice. "He's been great," you manage to say, your voice a bit shaky. "It doesn't hurt as much as I expected."

Curtis grins, a glint in his eye. "Oh, Ari knows how to make it feel good, doesn't he?"

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks at the innuendo. Ari's hand tightens slightly on your wrist, and you see his jaw clench.

"Curtis," Ari says, his tone a clear warning.

Curtis holds up his hands. "Alright, alright. I can take a hint." He fixes his gaze once again on your face. "Maybe next time you'll let me be the one to mark you up. Lot more skin still to explore."

With that, he stalks away, leaving a charged atmosphere in his wake. You can feel the tension radiating off Ari as he resumes his work on your tattoo, his jaw clenched.

“Sorry about that,” Ari says after a moment, his voice low. "Curtis can be… intense."

You nod, still feeling flustered from the encounter. "It's okay," you manage to say, trying to calm your racing heart.

Ari looks up at you, his blue eyes searching your face. "You alright? Need a break?"

You shake your head. "No, I'm fine. Let's keep going."

He nods, returning his attention to your wrist. The buzz of the machine fills the silence between you once more. You try to focus on the sensation, the slight sting as the needle moves across your skin, rather than the lingering tension in the air.

After a few minutes, Ari speaks again. "You know, you don't have to let anyone pressure you into anything you're not comfortable with. Not here, not anywhere."

His words surprise you, and you meet his gaze. There's a protective glint in his eye, but he quickly returns his attention to your wrist. Ari's movements become more deliberate, almost possessive, as he continues working on your tattoo. The tension in the air is palpable, and you find yourself hyper-aware of every point of contact between your skin and his.

"Almost done," he murmurs after what feels like both an eternity and no time at all. "Just a few more touches."

You watch as he adds the final details, marveling at how the constellation seems to come to life on your skin. When he finally sits back, setting down the machine, you can't help but gasp.

"It's beautiful," you breathe.

Ari's eyes meet yours, a mixture of pride and something deeper in his gaze. “It suits you perfectly."

You feel a warmth spread through your chest at his words. Ari gently wipes away the last traces of excess ink, revealing the full beauty of your new tattoo. The stars seem to shimmer on your skin, the delicate lines connecting them creating a sense of movement and depth.

"Now, let's get this wrapped up and I'll go over the aftercare instructions with you," Ari says, reaching for a roll of clear film.

As he carefully covers your new tattoo, his fingers brush against your skin, sending little sparks of electricity through you. You can't help but notice how his large hands handle your wrist with such care and precision.

"There," he says, smoothing down the edges of the wrap. "All protected."

Ari walks you to the front, and your heart races when you see Steve and Curtis speaking quietly with their heads together. Ari clears his throat, and at the sight of you, Curtis nods, rakes his gaze over you once more. “Come back soon, sugar.”

You feel a shiver run down your spine at Curtis's words, but Ari's steady presence beside you helps ground you. Steve steps forward, a warm smile on his face.

"How did it go?" he asks, his eyes flickering to your wrapped wrist.

"It was amazing," you reply, unable to keep the excitement from your voice. "Ari did an incredible job." You extend your wrist, showing off your new tattoo.

Steve nods approvingly. "Beautiful work. Ari’s one of our best. Let's get you checked out."

As Steve begins to ring up your work, Ari leans against the counter beside you. His arm brushes against yours, and you're acutely aware of his proximity.

"Remember," he says softly, his voice low enough that only you can hear, "take care of it. It's a part of you now."

You nod, shyly meeting his intense gaze, looking up at him through your lashes. "I will," you promise, your voice barely above a whisper.

Ari's eyes soften, and he reaches out, his fingers ghosting over the edge of the wrap on your wrist. "Good girl," he murmurs, the words sending a shiver down your spine.

Steve clears his throat, breaking the moment. "All set," he says, handing you a receipt. "We hope to see you again soon."

You nod, suddenly feeling flustered. "Thank you," you manage to say, gathering your things.

As you turn to leave, Ari's hand catches your elbow gently. "Wait," he says, reaching into his pocket. He pulls out a small business card and presses it into your hand. "In case you have any questions about the aftercare. Or anything else."

Your fingers brush as you take the card, and you feel a jolt of electricity at the contact. You look down at the card, noting the personal cell phone number scrawled on it. "Thank you."

Ari's blue eyes lock with yours, intense and filled with unspoken promise.

You barely seem to turn away, but somehow manage to break off from the eye contact, and quickly rush out of Obsidian Stain Studio.

You keep Ari’s business card, but as the weeks go by, you don’t use it.

After a couple of months, you move the card from the spot next to where you keep your keys where you see it every day, into the top drawer of your desk. Out of frequent sight, but not out of mind completely.

It’s a solid six months before you return to Obsidian Stain again, but ultimately you do. The bell jingles above your head as you step inside.

The tattoo on your wrist had healed beautifully, and you loved seeing it on your skin. You had decided fairly soon afterwards that you wanted another tattoo, but even after saving up for your next one, it had taken you longer to decide whether to return Obsidian or not, the experience with Ari and encounters with Curtis leaving you torn between terrified and desperately curious to go back.

Ultimately the allure was too strong to deny.

But, more logically, although finally going in to get your first tattoo had been on a whim, you had been very thorough in narrowing down and exploring your options for months before. You knew they were one of the best in your area, especially for the style you wanted, and the price point you knew you could afford while still ensuring quality.

Unwilling to make an appointment, though, you were going to gamble on a walk-in again.

No one was immediately at the front desk, but at the sound of the bell, Steve quickly appears. “Welcome back,” he said, a broad grin on his face.

“Walk-in?” you ask, and remind him of your name.

“Oh, I remember you.” Steve beckons you forward. “Let me see that wrist,” he says.

You offer your arm with pride, and he smiles warmly.

“Looks good. You hit us on a slow day, perfect for a walk in. I’ll get you booked in, and then I’ll take you right back.”

You feel a mix of excitement and nervousness as Steve leads you to the back. The familiar scent of antiseptic and ink fills your nostrils, bringing back memories of your last visit. Your eyes scan the room, half hoping and half dreading to see a certain tattooist.

"Curtis is free right now," Steve says, guiding you to a station. "He'll take good care of you."

Your heart skips a beat at the mention of Curtis's name. You remember his intense gaze, his bold words from your last visit. Part of you is disappointed it's not Ari, but another part is intrigued.

Curtis looks up as you approach, a slow smile spreading across his face. "Well, well. Look who's back," he says, his ice blue eyes locking onto yours.

You swallow hard, suddenly feeling very exposed under his gaze. "Hi," you manage evenly.

Curtis's eyes rake over you. "I was hoping you'd come back to us," he says, his voice low and smooth. "What can I do for you today, sugar?"

You begin to explain the design you have in mind - a delicate, line art floral piece. As you talk, Curtis listens intently, occasionally nodding or asking questions. His focus is entirely on you, making you feel both nervous and oddly thrilled.

“And where do you want it?” he finally asks.

You trace an area of your other arm - opposite of the one with your inked-up wrist — moving your fingers over the delicate skin between your wrist and up toward the crook of your elbow.

“Hmm,” he hums. “You sure?”

Your eyes shoot to his. “Yes?” an edge of hesitation now in your voice at his query.

He narrows his eyes slightly, then shakes his head. “No.”

“No?”

“No. A piece like this could work well there, but that’s not where you want me to put this.”

“It… isn’t?”

“No, it should go here,” he says, and he reaches out and brushes his fingers lightly over your ribs instead, causing you to shiver.

He gestures for you to take a seat in the chair. As you settle in, Curtis rolls his stool closer, leaning in. "Now, this is going to be a bit more intense than your other wrist. You sure you're ready for it?"

You nod, trying to project confidence despite the nervous flutter in your stomach. "I'm ready."

Curtis grins, a predatory glint in his eye. "That's what I want to hear from that pretty mouth. Now just sit tight and wait for me while I draw something up.”

Your heart races as you lean back in the chair, Curtis's words echoing in your mind, causing heat to pool in your core. You watch, mesmerized by the intensity of his focus. After a few minutes, he turns back to you, holding up the sketch.

"What do you think?" he asks.

Your breath catches in your throat. The design is beautiful - delicate flowers and vines intertwining in a way that would perfectly follow the curve of your ribs.

"It's perfect," you breathe, unable to take your eyes off the design.

Curtis smirks, clearly pleased with your reaction. "Alright then, let's get started. I'm going to need you to lift your shirt for me."

Your cheeks flush as you slowly raise the hem of your shirt, exposing your ribs. Curtis's eyes darken as they roam over your skin.

"Beautiful canvas," he murmurs, his voice low and husky.

You feel exposed, knowing your own soft belly and imperfections, but he looks at you in a way that has your head spinning, it’s a hunger that’s almost reverent.

“Better if you take your shirt off for me, sugar,” he says, his tone firm.

Head swirling, you don’t think to refuse, just do as you’re told. With trembling hands, you pull your shirt over your head, feeling incredibly vulnerable as you sit there in just your bra. Curtis's eyes roam over your exposed skin, a look of satisfaction on his face.

"That's better," he says, his voice low and approving. "Now, let's get you positioned just right."

His hands, surprisingly gentle, guide you to lie back and slightly to the side. You shiver as his fingers trail along your ribs, mapping out where the tattoo will go.

"Nervous?" he asks, a hint of amusement in his tone.

He already knows the answer, but you nod, not trusting your voice.

Curtis leans in close, his breath warm against your ear. "Don't worry, sugar. I'll take good care of you."

Your breath catches in your throat at his words. He chuckles softly, clearly enjoying the effect he has on you.

Curtis begins to clean and prepare your skin, his touch clinical yet somehow still intimate. You try to steady your breathing, hyperaware of every point of contact between his hands and your body.

"Now, this is going to hurt more than your wrist did," Curtis warns, his voice low. "But I know you can take it. You're tougher than you look, aren't you, sugar?"

You nod, steeling yourself for the pain. The buzz of the tattoo machine fills the air, and then you feel the first bite of the needle against your skin. You gasp, your body tensing.

"Breathe," Curtis instructs, his free hand coming to rest on your hip, grounding you. "That's it, nice and steady."

As he works, Curtis surprisingly stokes and then keeps up a steady stream of conversation. Mostly it’s inquiry after inquiry, forcing you to focus on finding words, but his deep voice also helps to distract you from the pain. He asks about your life, your interests. You find yourself opening up, sharing more than you intended about your life, your dreams, your fears. His voice continues to provide the counterpoint to the buzz of the tattoo machine.

"You're doing so well," Curtis murmurs, his eyes flicking up to meet yours before returning to his work. "Such a good girl for me."

The praise sends a shiver through you, and you bite your lip to stifle a small moan. Curtis notices, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

"Sensitive, aren't you?" he says, his voice low. "I like that."

Your cheeks flush, but you can't deny the thrill his words send through you. The pain of the tattoo blends into the sensations he’s evoking as his hands move with practiced precision across your skin.

"So, sugar, what made you come back for more ink?" he asks, his eyes flicking up to meet yours before returning to his work.

You take a shaky breath before answering. "I loved how the first one turned out. And… I guess I wanted to experience it again."

Curtis chuckles, darkly. "Addictive, isn't it? The pain, the permanence... the intimacy of it all."

His words make your heart race, and you're acutely aware of how close he is, how vulnerable you are beneath his hands.

"Speaking of your first time," Curtis continues, the steadying hand that had been at your waist ghosting just a little lower, "Ari seemed quite taken with you. Did you ever give him a call?"

The question catches you off guard, and you feel a flush creep up your neck. "No, I… I didn't," you admit softly.

Curtis's hand stills for a moment, and he looks up at you, his ice blue eyes intense. "No? Now that's interesting. Why not, sugar?"

You swallow hard, unsure how to answer, yet unable to stop the words from flowing. "I... I guess I was nervous," you finally say.

A slow smile spreads across Curtis's face. "Nervous? Of Ari? Or of what you felt?”

Your cheeks flush at his perceptiveness. "Both, maybe," you whisper.

“Or maybe you were waiting for something else?" His hand resumes its work, but the touch his anchor hand seems more deliberate now, each movement charged with unspoken intent.

"I don't know what you mean.”

Curtis chuckles, a low, dark sound that sends shivers down your spine. "I think you do, sugar. I think you knew exactly what you were doing when you came back here today."

His words hang in the air between you, charged with tension. You can't bring yourself to deny it, can't even find your voice to respond. Curtis seems to take your silence as confirmation.

"That's what I thought," he murmurs, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. "You're full of surprises, aren't you?"

The buzz of the tattoo machine fills the silence as Curtis returns his focus to your ribs. You try to steady your breathing, acutely aware of every point of contact between his skin and yours. The pain of the tattoo blends with the heat pooling in your core, creating a heady mix of sensations.

"Tattoo nearly done," Curtis says after what feels like hours.

You let out a shaky breath, a mix of relief and disappointment washing over you. The intense experience is coming to an end, but part you that scares you doesn't want it to.

"Just a few more touches," Curtis murmurs, his eyes focused intently on your skin, and the buzz of the machine continues for a few more minutes.

"There we go," Curtis murmurs. He wipes away the excess ink, then sits back to admire his work. His eyes roam over your exposed skin, a mixture of professional pride and something darker in his gaze. "Want to take a look?"

You nod, not trusting your voice. Curtis helps you sit up, steadying you with a hand on your lower back as you move to face the mirror. Your breath catches in your throat as you see the intricate design now adorning your ribs. The delicate flowers and vines seem to bloom across your skin, following the curves of your body perfectly.

"It's perfect," you whisper, unable to take your eyes off the mirror.

Curtis's smile widens, and his eyes darken. "Of course it is. I knew exactly what you needed."

His words send another shiver through you, but then suddenly you feel the heat of him too close, and he’s pressed right up against your back, planting his large hands on your hips and caging you in.

"You're trembling," Curtis murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. His hands tighten on your hips, holding you steady against him. "Are you scared, sugar?"

You can't find your voice to answer, your heart pounding in your chest. You're acutely aware of every point of contact between your bodies - his broad chest against your back, his strong hands on your hips, the heat of him seeping through your skin.

"Or maybe," he continues, his voice low and dark, "you're excited."

One of his hands slides up your side, carefully avoiding the fresh tattoo, until it comes to rest just below your breast. Your breath hitches, and you see your pupils dilate in the mirror's reflection.

"That's what I thought," Curtis says, satisfaction clear in his tone. "You've been thinking about this, haven't you? Since the moment you walked in.”

You can feel the heat radiating from his body, smell the faint scent of ink and something uniquely him. Your heart races, a mix of excitement and nervousness coursing through you.

"Tell me, sugar," Curtis murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. "Did you come back here hoping to see Ari? Or were you hoping it would be me?"

You swallow hard, your mind spinning. "I… I don't know," you manage to whisper.

Curtis chuckles, the sound low and dark. "I think you do know. I think you've been thinking about this for months." His hands slide up and down your sides, careful to avoid the fresh tattoo. "Thinking about what it would be like if you came back. If you let yourself give in."

Your breath hitches. “No.”

“No?” he challenges. His right hand, still gloved, audaciously slips past your waistband and down the front of your panties to cup your pussy. He laughs softly, discovering a growing wetness there. “Yes.”

You gasp as Curtis's hand begins to stroke your most intimate area, your body betraying you with its response. Your mind races, torn between the thrill of his touch and the shock at how quickly things have escalated.

"Wait," you manage to breathe out, your voice shaky. "We shouldn't…"

Curtis pauses, his hand stilling but not withdrawing. "Why not?" he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. "Your body is telling me a different story, sugar."

You're acutely aware of how exposed you are, standing there in just your bra with Curtis pressed against your back, his hand between your legs. The mirror reflects your flushed face and wide eyes, Curtis's intense gaze locked on you.

"Someone could walk in," you whisper, a weak protest even to your own ears.

Curtis chuckles darkly. "They could.”

Your mind is spinning, caught between the intense sensations and the voice in your head screaming that this is wrong, that you shouldn't be doing this here, now, with him. But your body betrays you, responding eagerly to his touch.

"Curtis," you manage to whisper, your voice shaky, and tears springing up in your eyes. "We can’t—"

"Shh," he soothes, his free hand coming up to gently grip your throat. Not choking, just holding. "Don't overthink it, sugar. Just feel."

His fingers continue their exploration, finding your clit and circling it slowly. You bite back a moan, plant your hands on the mirror, and your hips rock back against him.

“Fuck, knew you wanted this,” he speaks directly into your ear.

You whimper and shake your head, but then his hand moves up to cover your mouth. “Gotta keep more quiet than that unless you want someone else to join us, sugar.”

Your eyes desperately seek his in the mirror, fear flashing in them, and the tears begin to spill over. There’s a predatory glint in his icy blue gaze.

His fingers continue their skilled ministrations, drawing forth sensations you've never experienced before. Your body betrays you, responding eagerly to his touch despite your mind's protests. You're caught in a whirlwind of conflicting emotions - fear, excitement, shame, and an overwhelming, undeniable pleasure.

"Look at yourself," Curtis commands softly, his eyes never leaving yours in the mirror. "See how beautiful you are like this."

You force yourself to look, to really see yourself - flushed cheeks, wide eyes, chest heaving with each ragged breath. Curtis behind you, his large frame dwarfing yours, his hand between your legs, the other still gently but firmly covering your mouth.

Curtis's eyes meet yours in the mirror, his gaze intense and predatory. The fear in your eyes seems to excite him further, his grip on you tightening slightly.

"Don't worry, sugar," he murmurs, his voice low and husky. “I knew all those pretty tears were just for show, you want this just as badly as I do, and I've got you."

His words send a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and arousal coursing through you. You're acutely aware of how vulnerable you are, how easily he could overpower you if he wanted to. And yet, there's a part of you that thrills at the danger, at the forbidden nature of what's happening.

Curtis's fingers continue their skilled exploration, drawing involuntary gasps and moans from you that are muffled by his hand. Each deliberate movement sends waves of sensation coursing through your body, igniting a fire that you never expected to feel. Your body continues to betray you, responding to his touch despite your mind's protests, creating a tumultuous conflict within you. The thrill of the moment is undeniable, yet a flicker of apprehension lingers in the background, whispering the dangers of being caught in such an intimate entanglement, making it impossible to pull away.

"Damn, that’s a pretty sight,” a familiar voice jolts you nearly out of your skin, and you whip your head around to see Ari looming in the entry.

Curtis stops only for a moment and looks over his shoulder at the other man. "Didn't anyone teach you it's rude to interrupt?"

Ari shrugs, all nonchalance, and palms the large bulge pressing at the front of his jeans.

Your heart races, caught between exhilaration and apprehension. The sight of Ari standing there, a blend of curiosity, mischief, and lust in his eyes, adds an element of unpredictability that excites and terrifies you.

Curtis grunts, then says, “I’m not stopping, but I’ll share.”

Your jaw would have dropped to the floor in that moment had Curtis’s hand not been holding it in place, securing your response and anchoring you to the present. The idea of a threesome, tantalizing yet fraught with risk, swirls in your mind. How did this escalate so quickly? The thought of being discovered sends a shiver down your spine, but the allure of the forbidden is intoxicating, pulling you deeper into the moment.

You sob, overwhelmed and afraid, but it’s muffled as Curtis turns your body around with him, his grip firm yet reassuring His fingers are still moving, relentless and sure, and you can hardly focus on anything else. Your mind races through the possibilities, the dangerous thrill of being discovered adding an exhilarating layer to the encounter. Would Ari join in, or would he simply stand by and watch, adding to the intensity of the moment? The idea of indulging in such a forbidden experience fills you with a mix of dread and excitement, as if you’re teetering on the edge of a cliff, about to leap into the unknown.

Ari pulls a privacy curtain you had failed to notice across the opening to the booth before taking the few short steps to close the distance between you. This sudden shield from prying eyes heightens the anticipation, transforming the atmosphere into one charged with desire and unspoken possibilities. Ari traces the back of his forefinger down the column of your throat, down your sternum, between your breasts, and then circles around the expanse of your new tattoo, eyes roaming over the beautiful design.

Not to be forgotten, Curtis tweaks your clit, cracking the pleasure that had been mounting like a whip, demanding an orgasm from your body, and you tremble in his arms as you cling to him. Each flick of his fingers sends shivers through you, igniting a fiery response that leaves you gasping for more.

“Knew you were such a good girl,” Ari praises, and your chest surges from his praise, his low, sultry voice invading your mind. Then, he unzips his jeans, the sound echoing in the booth like a promise yet to be fulfilled. He goes to sit on the black leather chair, pushing his pants and boxer briefs down around his ankles, revealing the enticing sight of his big, throbbing cock.

Curtis lifts you with ease and places you in Ari's lap. The transition is seamless, and you find yourself enveloped in the warmth of Ari's embrace. His hands instinctively find their way to your hips, grounding you as you settle in. With Curtis standing close, the dynamic continues to shift and evolve. You can feel the heat radiating from both men, each one eager to exact pleasure, and you hope the fire doesn’t consume you completely.

“Take off your bra,” Ari directs you.

Your eyes widen over his immediate demands, but, nervous as you still are, you don’t hesitate to do as he says. His hands on your hips hold you steady while you reach around to unclasp, and then you let it drop and fall away, biting your lip. Ari groans appreciatively, and grinds your core against his cock. You let out a shuddering breath at the friction, but it’s a singular sensation for only a moment, because then Ari dips his head and takes one of your breasts into his hot, wet mouth, and you gasp. Your fingers tangle immediately into his hair, looking for some kind of anchor.

Vaguely you hear the rustle of fabric from Curtis close behind you, and then you feel the heat of his now naked chest press against your back. He nips lightly at your neck, but then pulls back slightly. He rucks your loose skirt up over your hips, but then he rips the fabric of your panties right off, and you yelp in surprise.

Ari’s quick to muffle your sound by shifting his lips from your breast to your mouth, but his lips and tongue are no less eager, and the kiss is delicious and demanding, and you’re easily almost completely lost in him again. But Curtis has also discarded his gloves, and now his warm, calloused hands move slowly up your thighs before squeezing your hips, then start to knead the flesh of your round ass.

Curtis places a hand between your shoulders and pushes you forward, coaxing you against Ari’s chest. Ari takes the hint and leans back in the reclined chair, pulling you with him. This exposes your most intimate parts to Curtis, and he spreads you open, then presses his tongue flat against your cunt, eliciting a moan that, luckily, is swallowed up by Ari, who’s still eagerly kissing you, and now kneading your breasts in his large hands. Curtis continues to lick and lap at your cunt, but then his tongue begins to move up, and then suddenly he’s tonguing the tight rosebud of your ass, and you whimper and freeze.

Ari stops when you stop, pulling away to look at your face and assess the situation.

Curtis teases you with his tongue for another moment before pausing to pull away as well.

“Not a virgin,” he guesses, “but never had anyone play with your ass, have you, sugar?”

You close your eyes and try to take a steadying breath, your, “no,” soft and barely audible.

“Do you want him to stop?” Ari asks, and you can feel him studying your face.

Your mind is racing, but you remain frozen, unsure of what to say.

Ari brings one hand up to stroke your cheek. You lean into his touch and open your eyes again, but still don’t speak.

“Keep going,” he says to Curtis, and Curtis does.

While Curtis works your tightest hole with his tongue, still splaying your cheeks open, Ari reaches down to slip two fingers into your dripping cunt, and you eagerly rock your hips for more. Ari smiles, then brings you down with his other hand to kiss you again.

When you’re positively humping his hand, Ari pulls back from kissing you again with a darker laugh than you expected, but you’re so far gone between them, you think of stopping or slowing at all now.

“Open your eyes,” he commands.

But it doesn’t register.

He withdraws your fingers and slaps your pussy, making you gasp and groan, and your eyes whip open.

His dark blue irises are barely visible, pupils blown wide with lust, and it just cause another surge of electricity to run through you to your core.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?”

And then it’s his cock nudging at your entrance.

“Ari,” you groan.

“Since that first fucking minute I saw you in the lobby,” he says. He taps his cock aggressively against your swollen clit, and you keen for him. “Knew you were an innocent little thing, and I wanted to absolutely ruin you.”

You bite your lip, unable to look away from him, and think of that day, too.

“We both wanted to ruin you,” Curtis adds. And his finger takes over where his tongue had been, working gently but insistently into your ass.

You moan softly, but the two men hear it and exchange a glance over your shoulder. Ari looks pleased.

“I didn’t touch you that day, only teased you, enticed you. I knew you’d be back,” he growls. “Shame I didn’t have you on my chair again, but that wasn’t going to stop me.”

He pushes your lips back to his for another devouring kiss, but it’s brief.

“You’re desperate to be filled up, aren’t you?” he asks.

Closing your eyes again, you whimper and drop your forehead to his, but your answer is undeniable. “Yes.”

“You didn’t have to wait this long, but we won’t punish you for that. We’re patient men.”

“It only gave us more time to think of all the ways we’ll take you apart, sugar,” Curtis murmurs against your shoulder, then presses open-mouthed kisses against your hot skin there.

And then Ari is slipping his cock inside of your cunt, slow, insistent, and doesn’t stop until he’s into the hilt, pushing all the air out of your lungs. He’s so big it feels like he’s everywhere, and it takes you concentrating on making your lungs work again to suck in deep breaths, impossibly full of him.

But as full as you feel, it wasn’t everything. Because while Ari was slipping his cock inside you, Curtis had removed his fingers, and now his thick cock was splitting you open and finding room in a hole that had never been filled before, and it was unfamiliar pain, but already pressing into impossible pleasure, and really, you had to press your palms to the leather on either side of Ari’s head and focus on breathing and only breathing if you were going to survive this.

And then they both began to move.

In and out and in and out and inandout.

And you were sure you were going to black out or bliss out from how full you were and all the sensations surging through your body and –

read the next part: TAKING YOU HOME

I make no apologies for this. Send me your medical bills as needed.

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

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[rootedinrevisions]

Just...Stay: Part 2

SUMMARY: Tyler has to prove himself and win back your trust after nearly losing you for good. As he tries to commit to building a life together, the past tensions resurface, challenging both of you to confront the insecurities and fears that have kept you apart.

PART 1 HERE

A/N: I tried to write this using some of the ideas that you guys had for where YOU would like to see the story go (ie: a little bit of Tyler groveling, her moving on, and Tyler having to try and win her back! Hope you like it! xx

WORD COUNT: 4.8k

WARNINGS: Angst. Fluff.

TAG LIST: SEE COMMENTS

If you would like to be added to any of my Tag Lists or be tagged for a specific character please feel free to comment, send an ask, or send a DM and I'll be happy to get you added! Below are the fandoms I currently write for.

Glen Powell (himself and the characters he's played)

Twisters (Mostly Tyler right now, but possibly others soon)

Top Gun: Maverick (Hangman, Rooster, possibly others soon)

Marvel / MCU (Bucky Barnes as of now, but possibly others soon)

WWE / Wrestling

You stand on the porch, watching Tyler’s taillights disappear down the long, winding road. The ache in your chest tightens, and you whisper to yourself, He’s gone. This time, for real. You let out a shaky breath, gripping the porch railing as if it can steady the chaos churning inside you. You’ve waited so many times for him to turn around, to decide he wanted you as much as you wanted him. But he’d made his choice, and you can’t keep waiting for him to want you.

With a shaky breath, you went back inside, the echo of his last words still hanging heavy in the air. Your hands trembled as you reached for your phone, already pressing the familiar contact without needing to see the name. When the line connected and your mother answered, you could barely get out a word. But she didn’t need you to; she recognized the silence, the breathless, broken sound of you holding back tears.

“Oh, honey,” she said softly, with that knowing sadness in her voice. “You don’t have to say a thing. I know.”

The crack in her voice brought the tears you’d been fighting up to the surface. The dam broke, and everything you’d been holding in—the hope, the ache, the final goodbye—poured out, leaving you unable to respond as she filled the silence with soft, soothing words.

“I’m coming over,” she assured you. “Just sit tight. I’ll be there soon.”

You nodded even though she couldn’t see you, wiping away tears as you settled back against the counter, feeling like the empty space Tyler left behind was somehow everywhere now, pressing in around you. The quiet house felt so much bigger without him in it, the emptiness swallowing every corner that once held laughter, whispered promises, and the comfort of his steady presence—even if it was always temporary.

Later, you and your mom sit in the living room, the stillness almost too much to bear. She’s wrapped her arms around you, her gentle strength holding you together when you feel like you’re falling apart. You try to hold back the tears, but the weight of everything—of hoping he’d turn around, hoping he’d realize he was making a mistake, hoping he’d come back up those steps to say he was staying—finally breaks.

Your mom rubs small circles on your back, her voice soft and steady. “He made his choice, and someday, he’ll understand what he’s lost,” she murmurs. “You did everything you could, honey. You deserve someone who’s going to put you first.”

You nod, though it doesn’t stop the ache gnawing at you. For the first time, though, you start to let the truth settle in: that you deserve more than the waiting, the hoping. That you deserve someone who chooses you fully, every single day.

Later that night you stand in front of the bathroom mirror, the harsh light making your face look even more worn from the day, you brace yourself for another quiet night. You slip into your pajamas, ready to try and sleep through the ache in your chest, when your phone lights up on the countertop. Tyler’s name stares back at you, as if daring you to pick up.

Your heart thuds painfully, and for a split second, you’re tempted. He’s calling, just like he said he would. But you can’t answer this time. You can’t let him back in, not after everything. So you hit the red button, sending his call to silence.

Thirty seconds later, your phone lights up again—his name filling the screen once more. The resolve you’d tried so hard to build threatens to crumble, but you steady yourself, knowing you need to stay strong. You told him what would happen if he left. You’d made it clear, and this time, you have to stay firm with that.

With a deep breath, you hit “Ignore” again, feeling both the sting of regret and the strength of your own boundaries. It hurts, but you know it’s what you need to do.

You turn your phone face-down on the bed, trying to ignore the nagging pull to check it. But when you do, Tyler’s message is there, waiting.

Tyler: Can we talk? I just want to talk to you.

You close your eyes, feeling the weight of every unsaid word between you. He wants to talk, but he still isn’t saying what you need to hear—no apologies, no acknowledgment of what he’s putting you through, just the same vague promises. Another message appears as you sit, reading it with an ache building in your chest.

Tyler: Please. Talk to me darlin.

You want to answer; some part of you always will. But there’s no real shift in his words, no sign that he understands what you need. It’s just Tyler reaching out like he always does, and leaving you to carry the weight when he pulls away.

So, you let the messages sit. They stare back at you, blue checkmarks confirming that you’ve seen them, leaving him on read for once. It takes everything in you, but you put your phone on silent and push it to the side. This time, you’re standing firm.

* * * *

A few months had come and gone since you’d last heard Tyler’s voice, and while the ache lingered, day by day, you’d felt it dull. The first few weeks had been the hardest—filled with reminders of him in places you hadn’t even thought to look. But with time, you’d found a new rhythm. You packed up his things and stored them in the barn loft, out of sight and mostly out of mind. There’d been a few days when you’d thought he might call again, but each week that passed with no message made it easier to let him go.

Then, just a few nights ago, you’d bumped into Matt at the bar. The quiet, shy boy you remembered from high school was still there, but he’d grown more self-assured, his conversations easy and light. He’d listened intently, asked thoughtful questions, and laughed at your jokes, which was a nice change after months of heartache. When he’d asked if you’d join him for dinner, his eyes hopeful yet calm, you found yourself agreeing without hesitation.

Now, as you finish getting ready, you catch a glimmer of that anticipation you thought you’d lost. It’s a soft, hopeful excitement, different from the wild spark you’d once had for Tyler, but maybe that’s exactly what you need.

As you slip on your shoes and give yourself one last look in the mirror, a strange mixture of nerves and excitement tingles in your stomach. It’s been so long since you let yourself look forward to something like this—putting on a new dress, curling your hair, and swiping on lipstick just to feel a little spark. It feels nice to step into a night that’s full of possibility, even if it’s quieter than the whirlwind you once imagined with Tyler.

Matt isn’t the kind of guy who will leave you on edge, wondering what comes next. That thought is comforting as you smooth the fabric of your dress and check your reflection one last time. He’s steady, warm, and easy to talk to, and when he’d asked you out last week, you’d felt a genuine flicker of excitement—a feeling you hadn’t allowed yourself in ages.

Your phone chimes, breaking the silence of your room. You glance over, expecting it to be a text from Matt saying he’s on his way, but instead, you freeze. 

Tyler’s name flashes across the screen, and for a moment, everything else fades.

Tyler: Hey. I know it’s been a while, but can we talk? I’ve been thinking a lot. Just… if you have a minute.

You stare at the message, feeling a swirl of emotions you thought you’d buried. It’s been weeks since his last message, and each day that passed without one felt like another small step forward. You’ve been letting him go—pushing his things up into the barn loft, moving him out of your thoughts inch by inch. But tonight, of all nights, he’s suddenly there, reaching out again.

The phone chimes again, and another message appears.

Tyler: I’m sorry. I miss you. Just thought you should know.

Your heart clenches, but this time, you feel a new kind of strength holding you back. You let out a shaky breath, reminding yourself that you deserve someone who doesn’t make you wait and wonder, who doesn’t leave just to come back again. Tyler’s voice and his words, tempting as they are, can’t keep pulling you under. Not anymore.

With that, you tuck your phone into your bag, letting his message go unanswered as you grab your keys. Tonight, you’re stepping out into something new, something steady and full of hope—maybe even something that finally lets you move on.

At dinner, you and Matt settle into a cozy booth near the window, the glow of candlelight casting a soft warmth across the table. You offer a smile, and he returns it, looking just as eager and nervous as you feel. The waiter takes your orders, and for a moment, you both fumble with your menus, using them as a buffer against the quiet that settles between you.

“So,” Matt says, clearing his throat, “how’s work been treating you?”

You launch into a polite summary, and he nods along, sharing his own stories from the hardware store, a few of which earn a chuckle. But as you finish, another silence slips in, and you feel that small, familiar tension build in your chest. You drum your fingers lightly on the table, scanning your mind for something—anything—to say. Just as the silence is about to become too much, Matt asks if you’re excited for the weekend, and you let out a quiet sigh of relief.

You tell yourself it’s probably just nerves, that this is normal. After all, it’s been a couple of years since you’ve been on a real date, and first dates are always a little awkward. But as you lift your glass to take a sip, you can’t help but think back to the times you’d come to this same restaurant with Tyler. How the conversation would flow so easily, sometimes even late into the night. You’d swap stories, share laughs, and talk about everything and nothing all at once. There was never a lull, never a forced smile or the need to fill the quiet.

You catch yourself before the memory sinks any deeper and shake your head, forcing a smile as Matt picks up on a new thread of conversation.

Stepping outside the restaurant after dinner with Matt, you hold the door open just long enough to make sure he’s following when you feel yourself bump into someone headed in. You stumble back, and strong hands instinctively reach out to steady you. You begin to apologize, breathless from the sudden collision, only to look up and freeze. 

Those familiar, green eyes meet yours, and for a moment, everything around you blurs. Tyler stands before you, in a red button-up, worn jeans, and that off-white Stetson you know all too well. He murmurs your name, his voice thick with something unreadable as he holds you in place for a heartbeat longer than necessary. 

But before you can react, Matt is by your side, his hand pressing warmly against your lower back, gently pulling you away. 

Tyler releases you, his gaze lingering as Matt asks if you’re okay. You nod, feeling a bit dazed, and allow Matt to guide you toward the street.

Tyler calls your name again, his voice softer, a thread of desperation woven through it. But you glance back only briefly before following Matt down the sidewalk, his arm curling around your shoulders protectively as he continues talking, oblivious to the moment that just passed. 

You try to steady yourself, but the weight of Tyler’s gaze is still on you, even as you walk away.

Watching you leave with someone else beside you, Tyler’s heart twists in a way he didn’t see coming. The sight of Matt’s hand resting comfortably on your shoulder, of you turning away from him so resolutely, strikes deeper than any storm he’s ever chased. It’s in this moment that something cracks, and he realizes with painful clarity just how much he’s let slip through his fingers. The thought of anyone else sharing the moments you once shared together is a weight he can’t shake. As he watches you disappear into the night, Tyler makes a silent vow to win you back, whatever it takes.

Matt drives you home, the quiet hum of the engine filling the comfortable silence between you as you watch the streets blur past. He’s considerate, not pushing for conversation, as though sensing the hints of distraction lingering in your gaze. When he pulls up to your house, he steps out first, hurrying around to open your door. You offer a grateful smile, following him to your porch as you fish for your keys.

Standing under the dim porch light, you both pause, caught in that familiar, tentative moment that usually ends with a goodnight kiss. Matt smiles, leaning in with a softness in his eyes that tells you he’s hoping for more than the simple goodbye you’re about to offer. And though part of you wants to bridge that gap—maybe even craves the closure it could bring—Tyler’s face flashes in your mind, his eyes catching yours across that restaurant entrance, and you can’t shake the thought.

You lean forward, placing a gentle kiss on Matt’s cheek before stepping back, your hand lightly on his arm. He seems to understand, though a hint of disappointment flickers in his eyes. “Goodnight, Matt,” you say softly, your hand dropping back to your side.

“Goodnight,” he replies, a warm smile slipping back into place. He pulls you in for a quick hug, his embrace steady and reassuring, but he doesn’t push for more. 

Watching him walk back to his car, you feel a pang of guilt. Matt’s a good man, and he deserves someone whose heart isn’t scattered across memories and what-ifs.

You let out a slow breath as his car pulls away, whispering into the stillness around you. You know you’re not quite there yet.

Minutes later you are in the kitchen, getting yourself a glass of water when you hear it. When you hear him. The rumble of his truck reaches you before the sight of it does, that familiar low, steady hum breaking the quiet night. You freeze in place, feeling the sound more than hearing it, the way it seems to settle into your bones and send your heart racing. You step over to the kitchen window, barely breathing as you watch him pull up, headlights cutting through the darkness until he shuts the engine off.

For a moment, he doesn’t move, just sits there, his silhouette still and contemplative. You’d know the tilt of his head, the set of his shoulders, anywhere. 

Slowly, he climbs out and makes his way up the path, boots crunching on the gravel. With each step he takes your mind races, grasping for words, trying to brace for the conversation you know he’s here to have.

When he reaches the front porch, he pauses, hands on his hips as he lets out a long breath. His eyes flick to the window, and you step back instinctively, as though he might see you. 

You feel a sharp pang in your chest, the past month of silence cracking open like fresh heartbreak. Then he’s knocking, the sound a low, insistent rhythm that echoes through the house, reaching you where you stand, rooted in place.

You take a deep, steadying breath, one hand reaching to your chest as if to calm the beat of your heart. You can’t avoid him now. Whatever he has to say, you need to hear it. Your fingers wrap around the doorknob, twisting it as you remind yourself to stand strong, to keep your heart guarded.

With one last breath, you open the door, meeting Tyler’s gaze—the same gaze that’s held you and let you go too many times to count. Tyler’s eyes find yours, raw and pleading, and his face softens in a way you haven’t seen in a long time. He takes a shaky breath, his words tumbling out in a rush like he’s been holding them back for too long. 

“I know I messed up. I know I’ve given you every reason to walk away,” he begins, his voice low and thick with emotion. “But I can’t lose you. I can’t…not like this.”

His hands run through his hair, and for a second, he looks at the ground, gathering himself. When he looks back up, his eyes glisten, and he steps closer, his words growing more insistent. 

“These last few months, you not talking to me… I can’t even explain how much that hurt. How much I’ve missed you—missed everything we had. I kept thinking, maybe if I left you alone, you’d be better off. But I was wrong, and now I can’t stand not being near you.”

He takes another breath, his voice catching slightly as he adds, “I want to come home. I want to be with you. I want to come back and stay this time…if you’ll have me.”

You feel your heart stutter, your mind racing to process what he’s just said. You’ve wanted to hear those words so many times before, but now…now that he’s here, your defenses come rushing up. 

You try to keep your voice steady, shaking your head as you take a step back. “Tyler…you don’t just get to come back whenever you feel like it. You left. You made that choice, and I—” But you stop, seeing the way he looks at you, eyes shining with the tears he’s trying to keep back.

He’s holding his breath, his chest rising and falling like he’s struggling to hold himself together. The vulnerability in his face hits you like a wave, breaking down the walls you’ve been trying so hard to build.

“Please,” he whispers, voice barely above a breath. “I know I don’t deserve it, but I…I just need you to know that you’re it for me. You’re home. Not just this house or the land…you, darlin’. Anywhere you are, that’s where I want to be. I don’t want to run anymore.”

You feel a knot in your chest tighten, torn between the longing in his words and the pain of what’s happened.

“Tyler,” you begin, voice unsteady, “I can’t do this again. I can’t open myself up just to watch you walk away.”

His hand reaches out, hesitating before he rests it on your arm, his thumb tracing a gentle line along your skin. “I’m not going anywhere this time,” he says softly, his voice trembling. “Not unless you tell me to.”

The look in his eyes tells you he’s here, truly here, every bit of himself laid bare for you. And for the first time, you see a man who’s willing to fight—fight to be with you, fight for a future together, fight to make up for every broken promise.

You cross your arms over your chest, the weight of his words sitting heavy in the air between you. For a second, it almost feels like you can’t breathe. His words are exactly what you’ve wanted to hear, but there’s still a part of you that’s scared—scared to believe him, scared to fall for this all over again. You take a step back, trying to distance yourself from the emotions that have flooded your chest.

“How do I know?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper but carrying the weight of every question you’ve been holding onto. “How do I know this time is going to be different? How do I know you’re not just saying what I want to hear, again?”

He pauses, his face tightening for a brief moment, before his eyes soften, his sincerity cutting through the uncertainty. “All I can do is prove it to you,” he says quietly. His words are steady, but there’s an ache beneath them, something that makes your heart skip. “I can’t change the past, but I can damn sure try to make up for it.”

He glances toward his truck, his hand dropping to the side before he looks back at you. “I brought an extra bag with me this time,” he says, his voice steady with a quiet determination. “I was hoping you’d let me leave it here. Maybe when I come back in a couple weeks I could come back with the rest of my stuff…and that you’ll let me stay.” He looks at you, his eyes open and honest, no pretense, no bravado—just the raw truth of a man who wants nothing more than to rebuild what he lost.

You feel the sharp sting of his words sink into you, and for a moment, you’re speechless. Tyler Owens, the man who once seemed so lost, so unsure of anything but the moment, is telling you he’s ready to plan. You feel the ground beneath you shift as he continues.

“I’ve talked to Boone, Lily, Dexter, and Dani about it,” he says, almost as if it’s something he’s already put in motion. “I’ve been thinking about moving up here, about making it work. I know it’s not just about me anymore. I know what I did, and I know what it’s going to take for you to trust me again. I want to be here, with you. And I’ve already been figuring out how I can make it work with storm chasing. With the team.”

The weight of his words hits you like a freight train. Tyler, who’d never seemed the type to plan, to make a life out of more than just surviving, is telling you that he’s thought ahead. He’s thought about you—about living with you. The logistics of his work, where he’d fit in with the team, how he could make it all work—things he’d never even considered before.

He never once brought up the idea of moving in, of building a future with you, before. Now, he’s here, telling you that he’s ready. And as much as your heart aches with uncertainty, something inside of you can’t help but feel the tiniest thread of hope tugging at you.

You swallow the lump in your throat, trying to find the right words, trying to keep your guard up, even as your heart beats louder with each passing second.

“How do I know this is real?” you whisper, your voice breaking slightly.

Tyler’s eyes are locked on yours, his expression soft and full of sincerity, the words that leave his lips quiet but sure. “You’ll know by what I do. Not by what I say.”

As you stand there, the flickering hope mingling with every guarded part of you, you can’t hold back anymore. You have to ask him, to hear him explain it in a way that might finally make sense.

“Why, Tyler?” you say, your voice laced with hurt and frustration. “Why do you do this? The hot and cold? Coming back and then leaving just when I start to trust that you’ll stay? Why am I never enough for you to choose me?”

Your words hang in the air, heavy, but Tyler doesn’t flinch. He looks at you, and for a moment, you see something raw and vulnerable cross his face—an expression you don’t think you’ve seen before. He takes a shaky breath, his hands running through his hair as he struggles to find the words.

“It’s not that you’re not enough,” he says, his voice soft but resolute. “You’ve always been enough—more than enough. It’s me who hasn’t been enough. I’ve been scared… scared of needing someone the way I need you, of letting myself feel things that deep. I kept convincing myself that I’d be fine on my own, that I didn’t need anyone, but that was never true.”

He pauses, glancing away before he meets your gaze again, his eyes intense and filled with regret.

“Seeing you moving on, watching you with him tonight…” He trails off, swallowing hard. “It made me feel something I never want to feel again. The thought of you with anyone else—it made me sick. It took almost losing you for me to see that I can’t keep doing this. That if I kept running, I was going to lose you, really lose you. And I’d have no one to blame but myself.”

He reaches for your hand, his fingers hesitant at first, as if he’s waiting for you to pull away. When you don’t, he takes your hand fully, his grip firm yet gentle.

“I know it doesn’t excuse anything,” he admits, voice heavy with sincerity. “I know I messed up. But being without you, thinking I’d lost you for good… it’s been hell. And if there’s any part of you that can still trust me, even a little, I want to show you that I’m ready to be here for real. To stay. I can’t keep running from the one thing that matters most to me.”

Tyler’s gaze doesn’t waver from yours as he takes a slow step closer, his hands resting at his sides, waiting. He opens his mouth, then closes it, the tension in the air so thick you could almost touch it. When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet, but you can hear the vulnerability underneath.

"Please, just… give me a chance," he says, his words hanging in the air.

You swallow hard, your heart caught in a war between hope and doubt. You’ve been hurt before, but everything in you is screaming to believe him. You close your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, feeling the weight of everything that’s happened, everything that’s led to this moment. And then you open your eyes again, meeting his gaze.

"Tyler," you begin, your voice softer now, but still firm. "This is your last chance. If you mess this up, there’s no coming back from it. I can’t keep doing this. I won’t."

He nods immediately, his face lighting up with the smallest hint of relief. "I swear, I won’t. I won’t mess it up." His voice is more confident now, as if something in him has shifted—something that wasn’t there before.

You feel a knot in your chest loosen, though doubt still clings at the edges. But as you stand there, looking at him—really looking at him, all of the pain, the fear, and the uncertainty—starts to fade away. It’s like for the first time in so long, you feel like you can let your guard down, just a little. You give a small nod, the corners of your lips lifting despite the tears threatening to fall.

"I’m trusting you," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "Don’t make me regret it."

Tyler doesn’t say a word. Instead, he steps in closer, his hands gently cupping your face, as if he’s scared you might disappear if he doesn’t hold on to you. His thumb brushes along your cheekbone, a slow, tender motion. The air between you both feels charged, full of something real, something raw, something that hasn’t been there in so long.

And then, without another word, he leans down, his lips finding yours in a kiss that’s soft but intense. His mouth moves against yours with such tenderness, like he’s trying to pour everything into it—his apology, his promises, his love—everything he’s been holding back. You melt into the kiss, feeling his warmth, his sincerity, his desire for you.

The kiss deepens slowly, as if testing the waters, but it’s gentle, filled with the kind of care and emotion that you’ve been missing for so long. And in that moment, all of the fear and doubt you’ve been carrying seems to dissolve, replaced by something that feels like home.

When the kiss finally breaks, you both stand there for a few moments, foreheads resting against each other, breathing the same air. Tyler smiles against your skin, and you can feel the weight of everything shifting.

"I won’t mess this up," he whispers again, his voice thick with emotion. And for the first time in a long while, you believe him.

[savanir]

DP x DC Prompt [21]

Danny who has finished school, distances himself more and more from his parents as they slide further into GIW madness, sabotages the portal, sees Vlad also actually getting wary of these government assholes, grows up, and then after a particularly rough fight becomes a Green Lantern. Then says “I do not want to do this anymore” and takes the opportunity immediately to dip and ditch earth and doesn’t at all mind being assigned to one of the far sectors. In fact when he finds out sector reassignment is a thing he requests it right away.

“Only request my aid for earth related things if there is no other option, otherwise I don’t want anything to do with that place anymore”

And both John and Hal are like, “uh, you know what- sure…” basically all Earth Lanterns get Earth fatigue, it’s normal. Though it usually takes some time.

Sadly stuff happens and Danny’s aid is needed, like it’s all Earth Lantern hands on deck, Sojourner is there too n everything.

And the moment things are working out and the situation seems resolved on Earth the GIW with the Fentons pull up and are like “You have eluded us for YEARS, but we knew you would return someday Phantom! this time you will not escape us!”

And Danny is like, “God fucking dammit- ok I have been here for too long, I’m heading back to my sector. And this time I am staying there, Earth be damned”

And like the threat has been contained so the other Green Lanterns follow Danny out into the stratosphere while these government goons are screaming bloody murder up at Phantom.

and Danny is like, “ok fine, I’ll give the tl;dr, so essentially, my existence is considered illegal by the US government and I don’t really want to get caught, experimented on and then terminated because of my biology”

“Are you serious?” “I promise you, I wish I was just making that up.” “And then you decided to just leave?” the ‘are you giving up? are you just letting this injustice stand??’ is unspoken but Danny can hear it. Or he’s just projecting his own hang ups about it all on them, that’s also possible. 

“I mean it has worked for me really well these past few years. if you want to look into it check out the Anti-Ecto Acts. But personally I’m over it, I can just no longer help with Earth that’s it”

[carolperkinsexgirlfriend]

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 17

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10 || PART 11 || PART 1 || PART 13 || PART 14 || PART 15 || PART 16

Eddie’s back to school on Tuesday, black eye turning a mottled sort of green, lip scabbed over. From where he’s hemmed in by Robin and Chrissy, Steve watches Eddie catch a glimpse of him and bolt the other way.

Jeff sighs, lets go of his hold on Chrissy’s arm, and says, “sorry, Steve. I’m just gonna—” and then he points toward Eddie and follows after him without another word.

Steve’s gut clenches with guilt. He’d put that look on Eddie’s face, had caused the rift in his and Jeff’s friendship, had split the forming group up with his ridiculous crush. But Chrissy and Robin are still here, standing by his side.

“Are he and Jeff okay?” Steve asks, biting his lip as he glances at Chrissy.

“I think so,” she says, looking after her boyfriend. “They talked on the phone, but Jeff didn’t tell me what about.”

“Forget about them,” Robin replies, reaching out to take his hand even as it makes everyone around them stare. “Come on, Stevie, or we’ll be late to Ms. Clickity Clack’s class.”

Steve passes the rest of the day in a daze, the spot at his side a revolving cast of Chrissy, Robin, and Jeff, like they’d all talked behind his back and decided he couldn’t be trusted with being alone right now. Steve can’t blame them because as soon as he’s left unattended in his big empty house, he gets out his notebook and pen, and begins to write.

   Eddie —

   I’m sorry I never got to read your last letter, but it wasn’t for me anyways. Maybe none of them were, not really. And I’m sorry about that, even sorrier about how your pretty face got caught in the ceasefire. I’m just full of sorries I’m to scared to tell to your face—from the way you ran when you saw me in the hallway this morning, maybe you wouldn’t want me to anyway.

   You’ve always been the brave one, so you must really want to not see me, huh? I hope you and Jeff are friends again. I’m sorry about that too, I’m the one who asked him not to tell you. I was afraid, but that’s no excuse.

   I don’t know how to stop wanting to right write to you. I can’t turn off the part of me that still wants to know everything about you. There’s a whole in my heart, and I keep trying to find people to fill it, but I can never be in love with someone who loves me back. You know?

   I’m sorry, Eddie. Maybe someday, I’ll get to say it to your face.

   Sorry,

   Steve

He closes the notebook on the damning words and shoves it into his nightstand so he doesn’t have to look at it. Sleep doesn’t come—the house is too quiet. He grabs the phone off his dresser and calls the only other person he knows whose parents trust them enough to have a phone in their bedroom.

“H’lo?” Robin mutters sleepily after finally picking up the phone six rings later.

She sounds tired—Steve’s sorry he woke her. “I wrote another letter,” he says.

That seems to perk her up instantly, as she hisses down the line, “Steven James Harrington.”

“Not my name, Robin Steven Bobbington,” he replies, talking right over her shrieked “well, that’s not mine!” to continue, “I’m not going to send it.”

“You better not,” she replies, and Steve can hear some rustling on her end, like she’s settling back down into her bed. He wishes, suddenly, that he was in there with her, clutching her hand as they fall asleep side by side. Instead, he lays down on his own bed and concentrates on the noises coming down the line.

“Is it stupid that I miss him?” he asks.

“Yeah, kinda.”

“Robin!”

She laughs, a quiet sleepy chuckle that warms him straight through. “I’m just saying! He’s been treating you like shit, Stevie.”

Steve sighs, burrowing down under his comforter and taking the phone with him. “He was different in the letters,” he whispers, like someone in his empty house might hear him otherwise. “Sweeter, you know?”

Robin sighs, “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.”

There’s enough sorries to go around for all of them, apparently. They’re quiet for a while, Robin’s breathing keeping him company in his big, lonely bed with his big, lonely thoughts.

“I love you, Robbie,” he whispers. “You know that, right?”

He’s been saying it a lot lately, throwing the words around like they’ll connect this time and get him something real. And they had, with Chrissy, with Robin, hell, even with Jeff. Just, not with Eddie. Maybe someday, he’ll learn to be okay with that.

“Love you, too, Dingus,” Robin replies, like it’s easy.

He falls asleep that night to the sound of Robin’s quiet snoring.

***

Eddie thinks about it—obsessively, compulsively. He dreams about it, jerks off about it, fucking cries about it. He reads the letters, again, and again, and again, wishing desperately that he still had that first one. At school, he checks his locker obsessively, compulsively, hoping there’s another note in his locker—there never is.

“Dude, what’s your problem?” Gareth asks, an elbow into Eddie’s side.

“Ow, ribs!” Eddie cries, curling away from him and into Doug at their usual lunch table.

“Sorry!” Gareth replies, leaning away from him and raising his hands up like that’ll somehow prove he’s harmless.

Jeff snorts around his sandwich, “gotta be careful, Gare-bear. He’s precious cargo now.”

“Oh fuck off,” Eddie replies, rolling his eyes as the rest of Hellfire laugh around him.

“No, but seriously, dude,” Gareth asks, this time without the thrown elbow. “What’s up with you?”

Eddie looks across the cafeteria at Steve and Chrissy’s usual spots, still empty the way they have been for weeks. He worries, sometimes, that they’re not eating, and it’s his fault.

Hopefully, they’re just packing lunches from home and eating somewhere else (he’s been too afraid to check).

“Can’t tell you buddy,” Eddie replies, still looking at the empty spot like that’ll somehow make the duo appear. “I promised.”

Gareth, clearly having followed his line of sight, leans closer and asks in an unsubtle whisper, “but it’s about you know what?”

Doug sits on, oblivious, but Jeff snorts again and asks, “okay, you didn’t tell me jack shit, but you told the freshman?”

“Sophomore, jackass!” Gareth cries, before seeming to realize the implications of Jeff’s sentence. “You told Jeff?”

“I knew before you did,” Jeff says smugly, and Eddie’s starting to get pissed off about that again.

“How!”

“Jeff, dearest?” Eddie grits out. “Do you want me to punch you in the face?”

That shuts the table up catastrophically. But in the end, Jeff sighs and says, “I’m coming over after school,” and the rest of lunch is spent fielding Gareth’s indignant questions.

True to his word, Jeff climbs into Eddie’s passenger seat at the end of the day. Eddie doesn’t take them to the trailer, he just drives around, taking back roads round and round, restlessness making his fingers twitch in the gear shift.

Jeff’s the one who breaks the silence, in the end. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he says, making Eddie flinch at the sudden noise. “Steve just seemed so scared, and Chrissy was crying so—”

“He was scared?” Eddie interrupts, stuck on the thought. He’d known that, before, but now that Eddie’s afraid, too, it hits like a punch to the chest.

“Of course he was,” Eddie replies to his own question. Suddenly unable to focus, Eddie pulls over to the side of the road. “I’m scared, too.”

Jeff sucks in a breath; Eddie doesn’t look away from his own knees.

“Yeah?”

Eddie bites his lip, knowing that Jeff will be able to read between the lines. “Yeah.” His eyes are watering, and Eddie swipes at them, embarrassed. “And I know we’re supposed to be talking about us, but I just—”

“No, hey,” Jeff replies. Eddie hears the sound of his seatbelt unbuckling, and the rustle of him shifting in his seat, and suddenly, Jeff’s hand is clasping Eddie’s shoulder, shaking him around just a little. “You’re my best friend—we’re fine, dude.”

Eddie swipes at his eyes again, “I think I want to ask him out, but what if I’m wrong?” Eddie asks, tracking Jeff’s expression out of the corner of his eye. “I don’t want to hurt him again.”

“So, what?” Jeff asks, voice deadpan. “You find out he likes you and suddenly he’s not just a jock anymore?”

Eddie looks down at his own knees, bracing for a hit he knows will never come. But, Eddie’s always been good at hurting himself, so he thinks about that yellow nail polish again, the enraptured look in Steve’s eyes during every D&D session, the way he’d glued himself to Robin Buckley, band nerd supreme’s side in recent weeks. The way he’d look at Eddie like he wasn’t the king of the freaks, like he was worth something.

“He was never just a jock,” Eddie murmurs. “I just never let myself think about it.”

Jeff mmmhmms him and Eddie knows him well enough to hear the doubt beneath the agreement.

“I was afraid, okay?” Eddie laments, scrunching his eyes closed tight until that makes his bruised eye ache too much. “You wouldn’t get it.”

At that, Jeff scoffs, and before Eddie can start up another tirade, he replies, “right, the black guy dating a white girl in Po-dunk, Indiana has no idea how scary it can be to make a move on the person you like.”

Okay, fair.

“You know what could happen if the wrong person finds out?” Jeff continues. “I’ll be lucky if they let me get out of town alive.”

“Okay, okay! I get it, sorry!” Eddie cries, throwing his hands up in defeat. And Jeff, being the asshole he is, just laughs at his discomfort. “How’s that going anyway?”

“With Chrissy?” Jeff asks, continuing when Eddie nods. “She’s great, man. I really, really like her.”

He’s smiling all goofy and in love. Eddie waits for the jealousy to hit; it never comes. Even as he’d flirted with her, there’d always been a disconnect for him between the letters and the girl. He knows why, now.

“I’m happy for you.”

Jeff aims that same goofy smile at him and punches his shoulder. “Thanks, man.”

Eddie wants to feel that way about someone. He wants to think of them and smile like he just can’t help himself. And with Steve Harrington of all people, maybe he can.

“If I ask Steve out, do you think he’ll still say yes?”

“Oh, for sure,” Jeff replies without hesitation before he turns to Eddie and eyes him up and down. “But are you sure you want to?”

Eddie bites back the defensive retort rising on his tongue, and grits out, “what do you mean?”

Jeff sighs and leans back in his chair. Eddie waits, three seconds from snapping as he stews in Jeff’s silence, hands clenched so hard against the steering wheel that it feels like one of his nails might pop clean off. 

“Jeff–”

“No one’s ever liked you before!” Jeff cries, and it hits Eddie like a punch to the sternum. “And maybe it’s not fair of me to ask but, are you sure you even really like him?”

“What?” Eddie asks, his mind a record skipping against a bent needle. “What do you–”

“Eddie, man,” Jeff sighs, swiveling his head to finally look Eddie directly in the eyes. “Do you like Steve Harrington, or do you just like that he likes you?”

He drops the wheel, hands almost numb as he shakes them out, no longer able to meet Jeff’s eye. 

How would anyone ever know that for sure? How can he know the origin of a feeling when it’s been there, simmering in the background of his brain, just waiting for him to wake up? How can he separate the feeling for a person and the person’s feeling for them?

That’s like asking him to unbraid his hair, let it fall back together, and still be able to tell which strands made up each component of the braid–it can’t be done.

But, “Gareth said I was obsessed with him,” Eddie replies, barely above a whisper. “Like, before I knew he wrote the letters?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Eddie laughs, but it’s just like Steve said–it sounds different when he doesn’t think it’s funny. “And, he was right, you know? I was flirting with Chrissy, but I couldn’t stop thinking about him.”

Eddie runs a shaking hand through his hair and buries his face into his hands with a shudder. “He’s just–he’s Steve Harrington, right? Everyone knows everything about him, but then he just changes the script!” Eddie’s smiling now, manic, animated. “And I wanted to know everything.”

Eddie drops his hands to look over at Jeff, meeting his eyes once more. Jeff looks patient, ready, hopeful in a way he hadn’t before, so Eddie keeps talking.

“Like, Chrissy was flirting with you and he didn’t even seem to care, and the yellow nail polish, and he came to Hellfire, Jeff. Steve Harrington came and watched us play Dungeons and Dragons.”

“I know,” Jeff replies, grinning now, pearly whites all on full display. 

“And when he came to band practice, he was just like, watching me, and I sort of wanted to die, but in a good way, you know?”

Jeff decidedly does not look like he knows, but he’s still grinning across at Eddie like he’s proud of him. Eddie’s kind of proud, too, that he’s managing to say all of this aloud. It feels somehow new and a long time coming at the same time. 

“Okay, you can ask him out,” Jeff says, turning forward in his seat and buckling his seatbelt once more. 

Eddie laughs. “Oh, because I needed your blessing?”

“Yeah,” Jeff replies, grinning as he turns back to Eddie, looking him up and down like he’s a slab of meat Jeff’s checking for its quality. “Maybe wait until you’re healed up, though. You look like one of those cardboard box kittens that I keep seeing on the news.”

“Shut up!” Eddie squawks, but he’s smiling, helplessly, hopefully.

Eddie Munson with a chance at love, who would’ve thought?

PART 18

[strnilolover]

Matt loves every part of you even when it gets hard to love yourself …

plus size reader!, body insecurity, slight angst, comfort, slight suggestive touches/words, body worshiping (?).

the bedroom was quiet, the faint hum of the heater the only sound as you sat at the edge of the bed. your gaze was locked on your reflection in the mirror, and you couldn’t help but let out a small, defeated sigh. the oversized sweatshirt you wore did nothing to hide the insecurities you felt tonight. every curve, every roll, every part of yourself felt glaringly wrong. too big. too much.

you sniffled, quickly brushing at your cheek as tears pricked your eyes. it wasn’t the first time you’d felt this way — you’ve felt like this countless times before, but tonight it hit harder than usual.

you were so caught up in your thoughts that you almost missed the soft creak of the door — the sound startled you.

“hey, babe,” matt’s voice was warm, gentle. “why are you sitting in here all alone?” he asked curiously.

you flinched slightly, quickly wiping at your face before glancing over your shoulder. matt stood in the doorway, his brows furrowing when he saw you. concern filled his eyes as he stepped inside, closing the door softly behind him.

“what’s going on?” he asked, his tone quieter now as he approached you. “nothing,” you mumbled, keeping your gaze fixed firmly on the floor.

matt’s steps were deliberate as he crossed the room, kneeling in front of you. his hands found your knees, his thumbs brushing gentle circles into your skin. “don’t shut me out, baby,” he murmured. “what’s wrong?” he asked again.

you let out a shaky sigh, refusing to meet his gaze. “i just…” your voice cracked, and you swallowed hard. “i don’t feel good about myself tonight.” you mumbled, the words barely slipping past your lips.

matt tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. “why not?”

you gestured vaguely toward the mirror, your voice barely above a whisper. “because of this. because of me. i don’t look like the girls you see online or anywhere. i’m too big, matt. too much.” you choked out — the words felt like glass on your tongue.

matt’s hands tightened slightly on your knees, his jaw clenching at your words. without saying a word, he stood, grabbing your hand and pulling you to your feet with him. “come here,” he said softly, guiding you toward the mirror.

you hesitated, but he didn’t give you a chance to retreat. he positioned you in front of him, his chest pressing against your back as his arms wrapped around your waist. his touch was firm. “look,” he murmured, his voice low. “Look at yourself baby.”

“i don’t want to,” you whispered, your throat tightening as you felt your eyes sting with tears once more. “please,” he said, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “for me.”

you stared at the floor a few moments longer before your gaze reluctantly lifted to meet your reflection. but instead of looking at yourself, your eyes flicked to matt in the mirror. his gaze wasn’t on the glass—it was on you, intense and unwavering.

“this,” he said, his hands sliding to your stomach, his palms spreading over the soft curve, “is one of my favorite parts of you.”

“matt—”

“shh,” he interrupted, his lips pressing to your temple. “do you know why I love it?” you shook your head, your breath catching as his fingers curled slightly against your skin.

“because it’s soft,” he murmured, his voice dipping lower. “it’s where i rest my hands when we’re lying in bed, or when i hold you close after a long day. it’s where i lay my head when i want to feel you, to remind myself you’re mine. And someday…” he let the words hang in the air for a moment, his lips brushing your ear. “someday, it’s where I’ll hold you when you’re carrying my babies.” he said, smiling softly at the thought.

your breath hitched, heat rushing to your cheeks at the way his voice dripped with intention.

“and these thighs,” he continued, his hands sliding down to squeeze the soft flesh. “do you have any idea how much they drive me crazy? the way they feel when they’re wrapped around me?” his thumbs stroked the sensitive skin just above your knees, his grip tightening slightly. “the way they look in those little shorts you wear around the house?” he states, his words growing rougher.

“matt i don’t-“ you went to say, but the way his hands gripped you further made them die before they pasted your lips.

he smirked, his eyes darkening as he met your gaze in the mirror. “you think i don’t notice, baby? you think i don’t see the way your body moves? you make it impossible for me to concentrate on anything else when you’re around.”

his hands slid further, settling on the curve of your ass, and he gave a firm squeeze that made you gasp. “and this?” he growled softly, his lips grazing your neck. “this is my favorite place to grab. do you have any idea how much self-control it takes not to touch you every second of the day?”

your cheeks burned as he pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the side of your neck, his hands roaming your body with deliberate care.

“you’re not too much,” he murmured, his voice rough. “you’re perfect. every curve, every inch of you.” his lips traveled lower, brushing over the sensitive skin at the base of your neck. his teeth grazed lightly, sending a shiver down your spine. “you don’t even know how badly I want you sometimes. how hard it is not to pull you into bed and show you just how much I love this body of yours…how much i love you.”

his words were matched by his actions as his hands slid beneath your sweatshirt, his warm palms finding bare skin. he splayed his fingers wide over your stomach, his touch firm yet tender. “feel that?” he murmured, his voice dropping further. “feel how perfect you are under my hands? How every part of you fits me like it was made for me?”

you trembled against him, your breath coming in soft, uneven gasps as his hands roamed higher, brushing against the underside of your breasts.

“you’re mine,” he whispered, his voice laced with possession. “every inch of you belongs to me and every inch of you is perfect. and I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that to you if I have to.” he said as his hands slid back down to grab at your hips.

before you could respond, he turned you around in his arms, one hand sliding up to rest on the small of your back as the other gripped your waist — pulling you flush against him. his lips crashed into yours, the kiss slow but consuming, his hands roaming your body with a newfound urgency.

when he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, his dark eyes boring into yours. “let me show you,” he murmured. “let me show you how much I love every single part of you.”

a/n : for my plus sized girls! (me included). honestly i haven’t been feeling the best lately so i guess i also made this as a way to comfort myself.

[larrylimericks]

19Oct24

No matter how mad the word made us, It always held hope — a “hiatus.”

I’m sad for so many reasons — the fundamental sadness of death, and at such a young age; having to process the mortality of someone so extraordinary it seems they should transcend a fate as ordinary as dying; aching for his family and friends; angry that he had to navigate such a cruel world, one that continues to disrespect him in death. Yes, Liam was damaged and in turn damaged others; he had demons to face and amends to make — I like to think he would have, given a chance. His talent was so immense, and there was so much more to come. I believe he would have found a way to redemption, and then had such a beautiful renaissance.

The joy of being a 1D fan has always been policed and mocked. We’ve so frequently been laughed at, dismissed for the intensity of our love for the band. And now, the world wants to do the same with our grief, questioning its legitimacy, trivializing our feelings. But this loss is real. And this grief is valid.

And the grief of losing Liam is compounded by the grief of losing so much else. He wasn’t just a celebrity. They weren’t just a boyband. He was an integral part of an integral part of our formative years — no matter how old we were when we found them. So many of us are the people we are in part because of the people they are. Were. We’ve lost a beloved one, we’ve lost innocence, we’ve lost inspiration, we’ve lost a piece of our foundation.

We’ve lost hope.

It used to frustrate me, in retrospect, that they called it a “hiatus.” It felt dishonest — like a gentle lie to let us down easy. Why couldn’t they just say it was over? That being a boy band has a built-in shelf life, and it was time to explore solo careers. But now I understand the kindness in that word. For hope springs eternal, and it didn’t matter if it never came. All that matters was that it might. And “hiatus” wasn’t just for us; it held their optimism too. Especially Liam’s. It left the door open, even if only a crack, for the possibility of something more.

It’s been a remarkable gift to watch each one find his own path and his own voice. But when they announced a hiatus in 2015, they planted a seed of hope that someday we’d see the unrivaled magic of those boys on stage together again — the greatest team the world has ever seen. Maybe Zayn would join, probably not. Maybe it would’ve been a one-off thing for charity or a special anniversary. Maybe it would be in their 50s when the allure of easy money from a reunion tour was too tempting to resist. But surely, eventually, 1D would reunite in some capacity. I was excited to see how their once frenetic energy and youthful antics would meld with the mature solo artists they’ve become.

That hope sustained us through 18 months and eventually eight years, but now the hiatus is over. I would have happily clowned for every remaining day of my life than know this new certainty brought by the finality of Liam’s death. Maybe, someday, there will be a memorial performance. Maybe we’ll see three or four out of five come together to honor him — and what a poignant testament it will be that Liam was what could bring them together. Or maybe it will never feel right to them to take the stage without him, and that, too, will make all the sense in the world.

I wish I had an uplifting ending for this post. I don’t. I wake up and my first thought is “Liam isn’t here anymore,” and then I go about my day with that relentless realization lurking around the corner of every mundane task I do.

I haven’t been able to listen to their music yet. It’s a cruel trick that the thing that always brought comfort is now a trigger for grief. But I hope that will soon change. That, at some point, I’ll put on WMYB, get choked up at “You’re insecure” and second-guess my readiness. But then jump to History, and find solace in the lyrics that are currently rattling around my brain but aren’t ready to be heard yet: “This is not the end, this is not the end” … “We can live forever.”

❯❯❯❯