#or what happened to him. just. in general.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Zero Gravity

Things Justice League knows about Danny Phantom:

He's dead (why, how, and for how long is unclear)

He's generally on the 'good' side (but contingency plans have been set up in case of 'future evil self' resurfacing, by Danny's own suggestion)

He's a figure of authority among other dead/neverborn/otherworldly/eldritch/magical beings (however, it's unclear to what kind of authority he holds and why)

He's dating one of the Bats (unclear to who, but none of them confirmed nor denied the fact, which is a confirmation on its own)

He absolutely hates only two things: toast and Christmas (neither of them explained)

His powerset is so wide that he can't even fully recount it (unclear if it's because he doesn't remember all his abilities or if he can't keep track of the new ones popping up spontaneously)

He's hot [whoever added this, you're not wrong, but I'm watching you - O.]

He has a grudge against Flash (unclear to why, but Flash seems to know the reason and won't budge regardless)

Of course, there are many more things to know about Danny Phantom, but they are mostly suspicions, rumors, and speculations. Like how sometimes the boy seems distracted and bored as if he is only going through a pre-written script; a sign of repeatedly going through the same day a few times too many, as the other time-travellers say. Or like how sometimes he knows too much - the boy is an expert in Kryptonian biology, to Clark's great surprise, and is more knowledgeable about Olympus politics than Diana herself.

There are also little things that are hard to notice and even harder to ignore once you do. How he never talks about family but likes listening to others talk about it. How he pointedly stays away from the medbay and any kind of medical staff. How he stops every time he passes one of the giant windows on the main floor of the Watchtower, smiling dreamily at the sight of vast, open space beyond it.

And then, there's The Thing that no one addresses.

When Danny Phantom doesn't pay attention, he unknowingly nullifies gravity.

The first time it happened, Bruce thought the Watchtower's artificial gravity collapsed. However, he very quickly realized that it was a local occurrence - only a few rooms and a hallway were affected - and, right in the center of it, was Danny, reading a book he borrowed (stolen) from the Wayne manor library.

The boy himself never noticed it. Which made sense, given that he defied gravity all on his own, always floating in the air above the floor.

But the others never acknowledged it either, treating the sudden absence of gravity as a sign of one, Danny appearing somewhere around, and two, him being in a good, if a bit absent, mood.

All in all, it's not the strangest thing that happens at the Watchtower on a daily basis.

And, besides, it's kind of fun.

¤¤¤

Danny, floating in the middle of the game room at Wayne manor, deeply engrossed in a video game: Eat this, sucker!

Tim, using his toes and knees to keep himself from floating up from the couch, not wanting to distract Danny from their match: Oh, you're going down.

Titus in the background:

¤¤¤

Bart, in the middle of a conversation with Kon:

Kon: ...

Bart, looking down at the cup on the floor: ... I guess he left?..

Kon: He literally went through a giant glowing portal two minutes ago, five feet away from you, but that's how you figure it out?

Bart: I have a short attention span, anyway-

¤¤¤

Barry, opening a bag of chips just for all the contents and himself as well to start floating: I swear he does this on purpose, I fucking swear.

¤¤¤

Red Tornado, coming into the training hall of Mount Justice: ...

Young Justice:

Red Tornado: I take it Danny is visiting. I'll leave you to it, then.

¤¤¤

Bruce, walking out of the conference room at the Watchtower to see this on the other end of the hallway, internally: He may be coming this way, I should warn the others in the room.

Bruce, a second later, because he is a little shit deep inside: On the other hand, it's a great surroundings awareness drill, so maybe I shouldn't.

[what-even-is-thiss]

I’m a person who’s under the opinion that prison sentences ought to be rare and utilitarian. That is, I think they ought to be reserved for people that are a legitimate danger to the general public. Which is a very rare type of criminal. The vast majority of people in jail should not be in jail in my opinion. Some other punishment should have happened or what they did shouldn’t be a crime in the first place.

In releasing January 6th rioters however, Drump has pardoned several of the types of people I think that prison sentences ought to actually apply to. There’s people who have been turned in by neighbors and family members who have said on record with full seriousness that they want to kill the people that turned them in.

I saw an interview of the son of one of the January 6th rioters who turned his father in who said that his father has threatened to kill him multiple times. There is now no truly safe place in the world for that young man.

They’ve also released a couple of leaders of far right militias. These are legitimately dangerous people. And whether you believe prisons should exist or not, I think we can agree that something ought to be done to protect these people. But nothing will be done. Nothing at all. Because a pardon just wipes the crime from the record. Normal rules do not apply.

[joeyfranchise]

clouds in my coffee

joe burrow x fem!reader

summary: everyone says joe is cocky, arrogant, self-centered… why do you keep letting him take you home?

warnings: explicit sexual content 18+, MDNI. mentions of alcohol/drinking.

word count: 2.2k. (much like general grievous, this fic was shorter than i expected.)

note: omg it’s been a while since i posted a joe fic… but i’m so back. i miss you guys and love you ♥️

every head in the building turned to watch joe burrow stroll through the door. you’d seen it happen many times, any time you wound up at the same event he was at, his natural gravitational pull drew all eyes and all attention.

he waded through the bodies with an effortless confidence, his aura hung heavy over the room like a fresh blanket of fog rolling in. his sunglasses sat low on the bridge of his nose and you could’ve sworn you saw him eyeing himself in one of the windows he passed - but could you blame him?

any man who looked that good, had that physique, that confidence… joe deserved to feel good about himself. the stats didn’t lie, despite the difficult seasons he’d unfortunately endured the past few years, he was the best in the league. nobody could really argue that he wasn’t, and anyone who did spewed baseless nonsense in defense of their own sub-par quarterback.

his friends flanked his sides as he continued to roam farther into the party, they were all poised just like joe, their heads were held high.

you knew all the girls here dreamt of being his partner, those who surrounded him at every gathering hung on to his every word… but you also had the strange satisfaction of knowing that at every shared event you both attended, he’d end up taking you home.

despite his big reputation, you liked joe. there was just something about him that drew you in.

at some point in the night he’d make his way over to you and buy you a drink, or lean in and whisper in your ear seductively - and sometimes he didn’t have to say a word to you. he’d glance over his shoulder toward the door and you would follow him wordlessly out to his car.

this time would be no different, but you intended to play coy. you sat alone at the bar, your presence innocuous as the party raged on around you. you were hyper-aware that joe had already seen you, and you could feel his gaze burning into your back as your body was faced in the opposite direction.

you ordered a rum and coke, something fairly light, and you didn’t plan on finishing it. you took a few sips as you listened to the chatter of conversations around you, and you took out your phone to lazily check your notifications.

the girl next to you droned on to her friend about the boy problems she was having and you forced back a giggle as you saw her friend roll her eyes for what seemed like the fiftieth time. you scrolled through your text notifications and your instagram feed as you waited for joe to approach you, just like you knew he would.

after waiting for what felt like forever, you turned your head to see if you could find joe somewhere in the crowd, and you did. he sat at a round table with his friends. a few girls sat close to them, but they weren’t necessarily on top of the group. as if he could feel you looking, joe’s eyes met yours and he raised an eyebrow playfully. you jokingly rolled your eyes at him before turning back to your phone and taking a sip of your drink.

seconds later you could feel his dominating aura behind you, and the girls next to you suddenly went quiet. joe picked up your drink and took a swig, slightly grimacing at the rum as it burned his throat.

you bit back a laugh as you eyed him up and down. “you look good,” you told him, a careful attempt at complimenting him without stroking his ego. “mhm,” he agreed, leaning into you, “so do you.”

the girls next to you were now completely enthralled with the scene playing out before them, their eyes wide with bewilderment. joe’s breath fanned over your face as he continued to lean in, all the way down until his lips ghosted over the shell of your ear. “wanna leave?” he teased, his teeth grazing over your earlobe.

“what if i don’t wanna go with you tonight?” you countered, much to his surprise. he pulled back, wide eyes searching yours as he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “you… don’t want to come with me?” he asked, pointing back and forth between the two of you. you giggled at him before hopping off your stool and grabbing your things. you extended your hand toward his and he took it, eyeing you up and down.

“take me home, hot-shot,” you winked.

he didn’t need any further coercing. joe led you out of the crowded party and immediately to his car, opening the door for you so you could slide in just as you had many times before.

you weren’t sure what spurred it, what always kept you naturally drawn to each other like this — but you weren’t complaining. he quickly backed the car out and pulled into the road, heading straight for his house.

his hand found purchase on your thigh, his long calloused fingers squeezing over the flesh as his other hand white-knuckled the steering wheel. had your attempt at a joke pissed him off? you weren’t sure.

you kept your eyes trained on the road as your breathing started to quicken, all due to joe’s hand slowly sliding up your leg and closer to your throbbing core. you gasped as you approached a red light and joe finally turned his gaze toward you, the apples of his cheeks burning red as he dipped his fingers into your panties and scooped up some of your wetness before he traced the calloused pads over your clit.

that was why he was gripping the steering wheel so hard… it wasn’t that he was angry, he was just ridiculously horny. maybe it had been the alcohol he consumed, maybe it was knowing he’d get to take you home and fuck you silly… maybe it was all that wrapped up together.

the light turned green but joe didn’t notice, his focus was on the soft gasps he was pulling from your mouth as his fingertips continued to work over your sensitive nub. you’d begun to spread your legs wider for him, arching your back against the seat as he quickly worked you up to your high.

but then, a car behind you beeped their horn rapidly. joe pulled his fingers from your heat and gripped the wheel again, his foot pressing down on the gas hard to accelerate the car. you weren’t far from his house, and you silently pleaded not to hit any more red lights, you needed him bad.

joe continued to speed all the way home and quickly whipped his car into the driveway, barely putting it in park before he was jumping out and running over to your side and opening your door. you stepped out too, walking the short distance to the stairs and following him up.

joe quickly unlocked the door and pulled you inside, his hands finding your hips immediately as he pushed your back against the wall in the entryway. he leaned into you and pressed his lips to yours, his tongue immediately sliding into your mouth as his knee slipped between your legs. he moved it up, slightly bumping it against your clit and you whined into his mouth. he pulled back from you and smirked at your already disheveled looks.

you gave him a wide-eyed gaze and he laughed before gesturing down the hallway. “you know where my room is, go ahead. i’ll be there in a sec.”

you furrowed your brow at him before following his command and heading to his room. once inside you slipped off your shoes before sitting gingerly on the edge of his bed, your hands resting on your knees.

he strolled in moments later and your mouth gaped open as you noticed he was already shirtless. “not in the mood for games tonight, i take it?” you asked him, looking him up and down.

“i’m not,” he shrugged, walking over and closing the distance between you. his hands reached around you until the found the zipper of your dress and he pulled it down as far as he could while you were sitting.

you stood from the bed and shrugged it off unceremoniously — you’d been with joe too many times to care about something so trivial. your clothes would end up on the floor each time anyway, so who cared about looking sexy while taking them off?

joe smirked at you and looked you up and down again, appreciating the navy blue lingerie set you had worn underneath your dress.

he slid his finger under the strap of your bra, pulling it forward and letting it go so that it smacked back against your shoulder with a loud pop. “this one’s pretty, baby,” he teased, walking you backwards until your body met the bed again, “too bad it won’t be on much longer.”

joe lifted you and sat you on top of the bed before reconnecting his lips to yours. his hands skillfully undid the clasp of your bra and he tossed it aside before attacking the column of your neck and shoulders with kisses and nips. when his lips finally wrapped around one of your pert nipples your body shuddered, and he laughed.

he used his thumb and forefinger to roll and pinch the nipple that wasn’t in his mouth, leaving you a whiny mess already beneath his touch. your hands tangled into his hair and you pull him off your breast with a loud pop to look him directly in the eyes.

“i’m not in the mood for games either, okay?” you challenged, a weak attempt at letting him know you meant business. he let out another low laugh. you could see he was already rock hard, it was evident by the very large tent in his pants, and you could feel how sticky wet you were with every shift of your panties against your core.

joe knew you wanted it and you were ready, the ball was in his court now. he pulled away from you to shuck off his pants and boxers and you used the opportunity to move up toward the pillows, encasing yourself with his scent as you waited for him to please you.

he crawled on top of you and pressed soft kisses to your stomach as he slid your panties down your legs, adding them to the pile of clothing that was accumulating on his bedroom floor. before he could continue to press any more kisses to your body you grabbed him, hauling him up toward you and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“no games, please. i need you, i need this. fuck me,” you pleaded… and who would he be to deny you of that? he pressed your legs to your chest and held them there with one arm as his other hand gripped his cock, pumping it a few times before slowly sliding into you. the pleasure was immediate, the feeling of being stuffed full took over your senses as joe pushed all the way into you and rested there.

you barely waited any time before you were scratching your nails down his forearm, signaling for him to move. he started with slow shallow thrusts and you let a few soft moans fall from your lips. joe let go of your legs so you could spread wider for him and pressed his chest to yours.

his hands were now holding a bruising grip on your hips and he dug his fingers into your skin as he began to thrust harder. the room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping and laboured breathing, and soft moans that fell from both of your lips.

joe’s fingers skillfully found your clit again and he began rubbing tight circles into you. your climax was approaching fast but you didn’t care, you knew you’d end up going a few more rounds before the night was over, that’s how it always worked.

joe knew the ins-and-outs of the exchange too, so when you warned him you were close and he said he was too, you knew he wouldn’t bother pulling out to cum. he knew very well that you were on birth control, he’d been in this situation with you far too many times to count.

he continued pistoning his hips into yours and the force kept driving you up the bed, so much so that you had to press a hand to the headboard to keep your head from smacking against it. joe was determined to get you both there quickly and with one more particularly hard thrust you were knocked over the edge, enveloped into toe curling pleasure.

you took deep breaths as joe worked you through it, he came just as you did. both of you were sweaty and needed a moment to catch your breath. he rolled off you quickly and gathered all of your clothes, throwing them into a bin next to his dresser.

you sat up and watched as he trudged toward the door, most likely headed to get some water. you admired your lovely partner’s ass and the way his back muscles rippled as he reached out for the door handle.

“babe?” you called, waiting for his response. your boyfriend then turned to look at you, a mischievous glint in his eye as he answered. “yeah?” he said, laughing as he saw you waddling toward the bathroom.

“next time we do this role-play shit, i’m picking you up from the bar,” you giggle, wiggling your eyebrows at him.

he laughs too, then answers. “better not ever tell me you aren’t coming home with me again, then.”

photos and dividers used are not mine. cred to owners.

taglist: @joeyburrrow @starsinthesky5 @joeyb1989 @kykysinlovewithafairytale @burrowdarling @bengals-barnesbabe @loveyatopluto @toterry @unhingedfangirl @superheroprincess22 @burreauxsworld @slimshiesty @yelenasbraid

[mossy-paws]

I have OCD, I’m unfortunately not diagnosed (as getting diagnosed for a milder version of OCD with less of the “compulsive” part is practically impossible) but both me and my parents have known for YEARS.

Because of this, I suffer from DEBILITATING “intrusive” thoughts, these thoughts can be about anything, and generally are more “what if so and so thing happened and how would I react to it?” For me they usually appear in incredibly violet, inappropriate, religious, terrifying, and upsetting thoughts that can trigger pretty bad depressive episodes/make me afraid of myself/and just generally sick to my stomach. It’s impossible for me to shut them out, and obviously no medication exists that can cause me to stop having them, luckily now as I’m older I’ve learned how to cope with them but when I was younger It would often cause me pretty bad meltdowns and episodes that we originally just blamed on “kids being kids!” (For instance, there was one time where I “what if’d” my brother dying, this caused me to freak out so bad that I BELIEVED it and that I had to BEG my mom to check up on him).

It’s so hard trying to tell people about this sort of stuff, because I genuinely can’t control it and it’s just a regular thing that happens to me, and hell even going to a professional about it is a terrifying thought because, well, what if I say too much about said thoughts and they have to call someone about it? Intrusive thoughts, especially ones attached to OCD, are awful, and almost always no one can help thinking them. Insulting one over these thoughts when it’s not their fault is an incredibly cruel and mean thing to do all around

For this Disability Pride Month, I saw a post that was shittybad and it made me angry. So have this

[redeemingvillains]

of magic & mayhem - mattheo riddle

summary: the strongest wizard of your age also happens to be hogwarts' playboy, and when he sets his sights on you, you realize neither of you have a choice in the matter.

word count: 3k

a/n: this is like nine of my concepts all mashed into one! heavily influenced by my re-read of fourth wing in preparation for onyx storm coming out, anyone who wants to scream about that in my inbox, please do <3

The Great Hall echoed with the excited chatter of friends and classmates and the general cacophony of breakfast; the sounds of scraping cutlery and the clink of dishes and goblets. You and Pansy sat in genial silence as you read your book and she eyed the gossip column of the Daily Prophet.

You were so totally transfixed on your book that you didn't see the looming figure in front of you until he placed his hands on the oak table and leaned casually across it into your airspace.

"Good morning" he drawled smoothly in a deep voice that caused you to glace up only to see Mattheo Riddle's large amber eyes twinkling at you, matched with a smirk that made you feel like you had pixies in your stomach.

You could smell his cologne from this distance, an undeniable mix of woodsmoke, evergreen and cinnamon that made you feel heady.

"Pansy" he acknowledged, nodding at her as she glanced up at him with a surprise that matched your own.

"Mrs. Riddle" he said, acknowledging you as his electric gaze found yours. You felt a deep blush on your cheeks, even as your face scrunched in confusion and your eyes searched his face for a hint of a joke, finding none.

"What did you just call me?" you asked, cocking your head. As much as you tried to supress it, a small smile graced your lips, which didn't go unnoticed.

"What?" he said in mock surprise. "You don't like it? I think it's perfect."

A pause.

"It suits you" he said confidently. He winked at you as your eyebrows shot up and he turned and walked away without another word.

You turned to look at Pansy who was open-mouthed gaping after him before turning to look at you.

"What was that!?" she exclaimed, excited, like you knew something she didn't.

You shook your head and rolled your eyes despite the hammering of your heart in your chest.

"He's a complete flirt, Pans, I'm not putting a lot of weight in whatever he's woken up and decided to say today."

But even as the words came out of your mouth, you couldn't help but feel excited that you'd caught his attention, even if you knew how delicately dangerous it could be.

"But Mrs. Riddle?! Please. I am dying oh my gods!" she said.

"No, we're not even thinking about this. Not unless you want to listen to me cry myself to sleep in three weeks when I've completely fallen for him and he's moved on to someone else. We all know how this goes and I'm not stupid enough to fall for it."

Pansy pursed her lips as she bounced in her seat with excitement, like she was going to explode.

"Okay, but maybe, just hear me out—" she started.

"—No" you said emphatically, as much to her as to yourself.

She stuck her tongue out at you and you returned the gesture.

It was no secret you were sought after; you had your fair share of dates and suitors. And it was no secret that Mattheo Riddle took the concept of incredibly hot fuckboy to another level, which is why, despite his comment and increasingly insistent stares you kept your distance.

Try as you might to forget what he said, or the way his dark eyes had twinkled mischievously as they drank you in, you found your thoughts drifting to him more times than you'd care to admit, and he had no intention of making it any easier for you, because now every time he saw you, he made a point of using your new nickname.

"Good morning, Mrs. Riddle" he said as he passed you in the Great Hall the next day.

"Have a good day, Mrs. Riddle!" he shouted from the opposite side of the common room, which garnered a significant amount of attention and whispers.

"Let me get the door for you, Mrs. Riddle" he said, pushing your classmates out of the way to do so.

"Mmm, gorgeous as ever, Mrs. Riddle" he whispered walking by you in the library in a way that felt like the words themselves danced over every inch of your body.

Pansy was nearly inconsolable over the situation, egging it on eagerly and even picking it up herself.

"Good night, Mrs. Riddle" she said to you as you crawled into bed in your shared dormitory.

"Lay off it, Pansy! Gods" you replied, even as you grinned like an idiot to yourself.

But then she wasn't the only one.

After less than a week of it, the rumor spread like fiendfyre and now Mattheo's friends were smirking at you in the corridor, waving teasingly to you in the common room and offering you every ounce of preferential treatment befitting of the name: knocking Potter off his chair when he took your seat in Potions, forcing a first-year to stand outside your dormitory holding your favorite latte every morning, and ensuring you had a coveted first row seat at their quidditch matches, including the House Cup, which you were excitedly getting ready for when Pansy burst into your room.

"You will never guess what I just heard" she said, grabbing you by the shoulders.

"What's that?" you asked, humoring her frenetic energy.

"Astoria Greengrass having a sob in the girls lav. You know how she and Mattheo have hooked up a few times?—"

You didn't, in fact, know that and couldn't help the pang of jealousy that gripped your chest.

"—Well I heard her telling Penelope Clearwater that he says he doesn't want to anymore and he told Harmony Norman and Maria Warner the same thing!"

Your face tangled in disgust.

"How many girls is he hooking up with? And why do you look so happy about it? What a mess…" you said, sighing as you turned to resume your makeup.

"Why, all of a sudden is he breaking all of them off, hmm?" she said, cocking an eyebrow at you in your mirror.

"I don't know" you said shiftily. "Maybe he's trying to be a better person?!—"

"—Or maybe he has his eyes set on someone else?!" she said insistently. "You know, someone he's given a special nickname to, his name to?"

You opened your mouth to argue with her but you couldn't deny the logic of her statement.

The boys pulled it off, sweeping Gryffindor in the House Cup for the first time in years and the ensuing celebration was electric.

The music in the common room was loud enough to sway the chandeliers in the ceiling, to feel the bass vibrating in your body.

Every Slytherin you knew and quite a few friends from other houses were there, the normally cavernous room filled in a way that made it feel like some sort of night club, bodies covering every inch of space, melding and weaving between each other and raising the temperature of the normally dank dungeon air.

You couldn't help but search the flashing lights and otherwise utter chaos for Mattheo and you didn't have to look for long the way he stood a head taller than almost everyone in the room, even surrounded by his large teammates; not to mention the way they were walking around like kings, taking turns chugging champagne out of their trophy, raucous, rowdy and loud as people cheered around them.

Mattheo himself was in rare form, his handsome curls were slightly askew and his cheeks were rosy from the alcohol and general liveliness of the night. He was dressed in a fitted black tshirt and dark pants and was exuding an energy that was magnetic, even from where you were standing; undeniably, your heart thumped in your chest at the sight of him.

Had you gotten a little dressed up? Of course. It was a celebration, an occasion, why wouldn't you? But as you wound through the sea of bodies, fingers twined in Pansy's, you garnered enough stares and double-takes that had you thinking you may have slightly overdone it.

"Oh, okay queen!" Pansy had said the minute she'd seen your outfit, the way you'd done your makeup and styled your hair, knowing, perhaps, exactly what or who had been on your mind.

You stopped to grab a drink and your cup had barely touched your lips before two guys came up to you that you recognized vaguely from the year below you. They were admittedly cute and you smiled as they compliment you and chatted with you. You leaned in closer to hear them over the music and the crowd and the one closest to you ducked his head toward you when you felt a tingle run from the base of your neck down your spine and a large, warm hand wound its way around your waist, pulling you firmly backwards into what felt like a pliable brick wall. You were startled for only a moment until you caught the undeniable scent of evergreen, of cinnamon.

"Brian is it? Blake? Blaire? Why don't you go get a drink, buddy?" his voice rumbled near your ear, more of a command than a suggestion as Bradley's eyes shot up over your shoulder to the shadow looming there and nodded quickly, retreating.

"Aww" you pouted sarcastically as you turned around. "He was nice, we were having fun!"

You met Mattheo's eyes which were so dark they looked nearly jet black as they glared at you. Had he been jealous?

And like he could read your mind his lip twitched and he rolled his eyes.

"Even if he had a chance with you, which, let's be very clear, he doesn't, he wouldn't know what to do with it."

"And, let me guess, you would?" you asked teasingly.

"Care to find out?" he asked matter-of-factly.

You felt a wave wash over you from your head to your toes, your body tingling with his proximity, with the way his eyes met yours directly, unfaltering despite the myriad distractions around him.

Gods yes you thought, even as you bit your bottom lip, teetering on the edge of a decision you knew you couldn't come back from.

His eyes shamelessly fell to your lips and you suddenly realized that his hands had never left you as they flexed at your waist, his fingers pressing into your skin like he was holding onto you for purchase.

"C'mon" he said, not waiting for a coherent reply from you, which you may never have been able to form had he kept looking at you that way.

His hands left your body only long enough to tangle his fingers in yours and hold them tightly, pulling you behind him as he headed into the sea of bodies on the dance floor, weaving between some as others offered him a wide berth and a congratulations when they realized who he was.

Then, like he was moving in slow motion, he turned to face you, twining your fingers further in his as he pulled you into him, guiding your hand over his shoulder so you were flush to his chest, and his other hand found your waist again, his grip firm and unyielding as he held you to him as if you would argue or try to be anywhere but right here.

You could feel every dip and curve of his body against yours as you moved against each other in a way that felt perfect and also not nearly enough, even though you couldn't get any closer.

You let the hand on his shoulder wander to the back of his neck, your fingers tangling into the curls there and even though the music was loud enough that you could barely hear yourself think, you could feel as much as hear the growl that released in his chest as his hands tightened on you in a way you were certain would leave a bruise.

The lights flickered for just a second, and a few people stopped dancing and shouted but his eyes never left yours, the only acknowledgement he offered, a small grimace on his face, which made you want to kiss his lips back into his irritatingly perfect smirk.

He leaned in, pressing his cheek to yours as his lips hovered to your ear.

"You look stunning, Mrs. Riddle."

He leaned back and you could see his signature smirk gracing his lips again. You opened your mouth to reply as your eyes met his, but your head was swimming at this point. Everything was him all at once, his body against yours, taught and warm to your touch, his breath on you that smelled like cinnamon gum, his cologne, you felt yourself melting into him at his words, closing the only remaining inches between your hips as your hands came to his face and your noses brushed — and then the lights went out in earnest, drowning you in complete darkness.

"Fuck" you heard him mutter strongly before grasping your hand in his as he started to pull you through the imperceptible forms of people who were yelling and shouting, blazing a path through them, pushing people aside brusquely where necessary. He was on a war path and your feet moved quicky to follow him as he cleared most of the crowd and headed directly for the boys dormitory.

He pulled you into a maze of adjoining corridors before swiping his hand causing an approaching door to fly open as he pulled you in behind him. You were barely through it before he swiped his hand again and it slammed closed behind you, forcefully, the energy pouring off of him in a way that reminded you just how strong of a wizard he was, and exactly why absolutely nobody fucked with him.

He turned to you finally, his chest rising and falling as he gripped your waist and pushed you gently against the closed door with a thud. He let his other hand rest beside your head, caging you in. The look of lust on his face was still there, tangled with the same grimace from before, like he was angry, like he was holding something in.

"Mattheo...?" you whispered and he ducked his head away from you, his eyes squeezing shut as the hand at your waist squeezed again, the touch sending an electric tingle up your side that made you gasp.

His gaze came back to you and then he was leaning in, his nose brushing yours again and your hands came to wind around his neck. You caught a glimpse of a smile on his lips as they hovered over yours, barely grazing them, and you could feel static electricity there between you, the air itself alight with energy, vibrating. The temptation was driving you mad, your chest visibly rising and falling against his own and then his lips fell to yours, warm, soft and urgent.

He took your face in his hands and pressed you into the door and you hummed against him. The lights in the room flickered once, then twice, and then rapidly like you were in a horror film before they went out completely, drenching you both in a velvet darkness that was somehow welcoming, like you could feel the shadows themselves dancing over your body, caressing you, enveloping you.

You felt his tongue against your bottom lip and you opened up to him. Your tongued flicked against his and a freezing gust of wind blew papers, books and quills off his desk, hurling them to the ground with a clatter and bang. Mattheo never stopped, his tongue continued to glide over yours and he kissed you like it was the last godsdamn thing he'd ever do.

He hoisted you up so your legs wrapped around his waist and he pressed you back into the door before releasing your lips just long enough to trail kisses down your jaw to your neck that he lavished in a way you were certain there would be a violet bruise in the morning.

Your eyes fluttered in pleasure, lost in him for a moment until you caught sight of the room around you and you froze.

It was midnight black but for the moonlight coming through the window which cast everything in a ghostly shade of white, but what caught your eye was that every object in the room was floating, adrift in the air, the bed, the desk, the bookshelf, all hovering feet off the ground. Lightweight objects like clothing, quills and his books floated higher and higher and then you realized that it was cold enough to see your breath in front of you.

"Mattheo" you breathed, trying to get his attention. Your hand carded through his curls and the chair in the corner took flight.

Wait. Was this him?

"Mrs. Riddle?" he murmured in your neck.

"Mattheo" you said again, a stronger urgency in your voice causing him to relent and look up at you with a puff of air of his own.

"Fuck" he said. "It's – yeah. That's me. Well, that's you actually."

"What?"

"S'no secret that my magic is ... strong. And I'm well practiced at controlling it. With... one exception."

He took your hand and placed it over his chest where you could feel his heart hammering.

You searched his eyes and his eyebrow quirked until he gestured to his room. As if to say 'see?'

This boy had quite literally lost his control at your touch.

"Wait, the lights? The music?" you asked, a small smile on your lips at the realization.

"When you touched me, I just—" he shook his head, exhaling another puff of cold air. "—See what you do to me, Mrs. Riddle?" he said.

"Gods, when are you going to stop calling me that?" you laughed, even as you looked at him and traced a finger over his lips.

"When it's true" he said simply.

You looked confused for a moment until he leaned into you again, his magic radiating off of him.

"What?" you breathed.

"When you're mine, and it's official and I won't have to spend all of my free time reminding everyone you're mine, they'll know. Until then, I'll hedge my bets."

He kissed you.

"Mmpf, but what if I didn't want you to stop?" you murmured against him.

He pulled back to look at you, scanning your face for any sign of a joke, and finding none as your eyes connected with his and his lip quirked in a smile.

"Well, princess,” he whispered against your lips, ghosting them with his, teasing you before biting your bottom lip gently in a way that sent a shiver through you that had nothing to do with the freezing air.

“Whatever Mrs. Riddle wants—” he murmured, kissing you fully, luxuriously, “—Mrs. Riddle gets.”

ˋ°•*⁀➷ I have the tiniest little epilogue that I'll post soon, let me know if you want to be tagged!

taglist: @kenjikishimotoswifey @mattiesgf @sleepiibunniiii @darlingshecried @girllblogging777 @foivetimesacharm @clar2aa @broadwaybaby123 @slytherinscreamqueen @chelawrites @loverliner

[kabsey]

i want rook to get a turn sleepwalking

lucanis is lying on his "bed" in the pantry reading when rook stumbles in, half-conscious. before he can even ask what's happening, rook has sprawled across him, buried their face in his neck, and mumbled, "the fish are judging me." seconds later they're snoring

lucanis, holding his book over them and having no idea where he is supposed to put it or his arms in general now, looks over at spite in panic (because he and rook are nowhere near that physically intimate yet. man hasn't been cuddled like this in... well, maybe ever)

spite just nods knowingly. "we should kill. the fish."

[spicyspiders]

Professor Howlett

logan howlett x male reader smut

3.7k words

cw: power imbalance (logan is the reader's professor), age difference, rimming, virginity kink, thigh fucking, size kink, and spit as lube.

“This is utterly disappointing,” Professor Howlett tosses your paper down onto his desk with a thwap. The sound makes you jump, but you quickly steel yourself before he can look up and see how your calm expression is beginning to break.

You have to clear your throat before responding, though it does little to stop the lump you feel forming in your throat, ”I tried my best, professor,” you respond, keeping your eyes locked on the paper littered with red pen marks.

“Did you?” Professor Howlett questions angrily, making you jump once more at the tone, “because this sure as hell doesn’t read like it!”

“Professor, I-” you try to explain, but he cuts you off. 

“The first paper you wrote got the highest grade in the class, and then you go on to write this?” He asks, waving the red pen he used to mark up your paper angrily in the air as he speaks. If you weren’t biting your lip hard enough that at any second you thought it would bleed, you would laugh at the display. 

He looked at you expectantly, and with how angry he looked, you didn’t think any explanation that you could give would be enough. You had to try and do so anyway, knowing the sooner you spoke, the sooner you could leave his office and contemplate dropping his class or dropping out of college in general. 

You suck in a shaky breath before you respond, “I’m sorry, professor,” and when his angry expression doesn’t falter, you continue, “I knew I didn’t give myself enough time and knew I just had to take the hit to my grade and do better on the next paper.”

The man in front of you lets out a bitter laugh, “so you waste my time?”

“That wasn’t my intention, sir,” you respond, slouching down into the chair, trying to make yourself look as small as possible. You look up at the man across from you after a few moments of awkward silence, meeting his eyes as you try to calm your racing heart. 

He lets out a long sigh before he speaks again, “I must have set my expectations for the rest of your assignments too high,” he passes the paper across the desk until it sets in front of you, “I apologize.”

You can feel anger welling up in your body at his words. It was one bad assignment, it’s not like you were now some lost cause. “I can still write a paper just as good as the first one,” you snap before snatching the paper off the desk. “I told you,” you huff, angrily unzipping your book backpack to put the paper inside, “I didn’t give myself enough time, which won’t happen again,” you stand up in a flash, the chair shooting out from behind you fast enough you’re surprised it didn’t tip over, “I apologize, professor.”

“Hey hey hey,” Logan says, racing around the desk to grab your shoulder. He turns you around slowly from where you were about to stop out of his office and slam the door behind you, “I don’t want this to impact your grade.”

”It already is,” you spit, not angry at him, but angry at yourself. You remember getting the notification this morning that your professor had posted the grade, the number immediately turning your mood sour. 

“It’s okay,” Professor Howlett says, running a soothing hand down your shoulder, “I’ll give you a week to rewrite the paper and give you full credit back.”

“I’m not rewriting the paper,” you say with a bitter laugh that sounds a lot like Professor Howlett’s did earlier. 

“I know you can do better than this,” Professor Howlett responds, crossing his arms along his broad chest. 

“As you’ve already said,” you say, rolling your eyes, “I’m not writing an extra paper,” too tired to even think after you stayed up all night bullshitting the paper you had turned into Professor Howlett, you put the decision in his hands: “so what do you want to do, professor?” You ask tiredly.

You stare into Professor Howlett’s eyes, waiting for the man to make his decision. He looks back at you, observing you closely with his dark eyes. You are on the edge of feeling uncomfortable by the time he’s made up his mind, a look that you’re unable to pinpoint settling over his face. 

“Take off your bag and put it in the chair,” he commands, the lone tone of his voice making you shiver. 

“Okay,” you respond shakily, now back in front of him with your bag resting in the chair, “now wh-”

Your back collides with the door, and then a second later, his lips collide with yours. You gasp in surprise against his mouth and feel his tongue enter the opening, the appendage sliding wetly against yours. 

Too caught off guard to respond to the kiss, Logan moans against your unresponsive lips, one of his hands going to your chin to angle your head so his tongue can move deeper. His other hand you can hear beside you fiddling with the lock, and when the knob finally clicks, you can barely hear it over the sound of Professor Howlett’s breathing after he pulls away from the kiss. 

“Professor-” you begin, placing your hands on his broad shoulders, your mind too confused on whether you should push him away or pull him closer. You’ve already crossed the line you never thought you would cross. Sure, you had your fantasies dating back to the first day you walked into class, but you thought those would just stay in your head, only coming out in breaths of the professor’s name when your mind would wonder when you touched yourself.

“Logan.”

“Logan,” you correct yourself, trying to bite back a moan when Professor- Logan pushes his thigh between your legs, “I don’t think-”

He cuts you off with yet another kiss, but this time, you crane your neck to pull away from the kiss, trying your hardest to ignore the weight of your cock chubbing up in your pants. 

The second kiss ending abruptly does nothing to discourage Logan, instead, it gives his lips a new area to map out. “You drive me insane,” Logan moans against the column of your neck, his stubble digging into the sensitive skin. “So smart,” he says kissing down until he reaches the collar of your shirt, “so beautiful,” he whispers, moving to press his forehead to yours, “yet you barely talk in class,” he says, pressing his lips to yours once more, but this one much softer than the last. 

There wasn’t a participation grade outlined in the syllabus for Logan’s class like it was for some of your other professors, meaning you weren’t going to talk if you didn’t have to. Sometimes you did, feeling bad when he would ask a question and no one would respond immediately, hating the awkward silence. And now that you think about it, those were usually the nights your mind would think of him while your fingers were wrapped around your cock. Good job or good answer Logan would say, the praise lighting a coil of pleasure deep in your belly. 

“It’s only for me to see, is it?” Logan asks, his hands moving to hold your hips possessively, “only I get to see how smart you are,” he says in a low, gravelly voice, seemingly answering his own question. His lips go to the racing pulse point on the side of your neck, his teeth sinking into the skin. 

The bite burns, making your mouth fall open with a whimper, the sound a mix of pain and pleasure. Logan’s hot tongue runs over the mark, trying to soothe the pain with warmth. You give way to the feeling, letting your head fall back onto the wooden door, giving Logan more room to work. 

You bury a hand in his dark hair, running your fingers through the dark locks. Logan pulls away at the feel of your fingers in his hair, his eyes now darker than they once were, his pupils dilated in lust. You stare at each other once more before, taking in Logan’s already disheveled appearance with his dark eyes, messy hair, and crooked tie.       

You respond to the next kiss Logan initiates. It’s softer than you expect, at least, it is at the start. It begins to heat up when you tighten the hand in Logan’s hair to change the angle. You both moan when your tongues meet once more, spit mixing together. 

Logan wraps an arm around your lower back so you can stumble your way to the couch that sits against one of the walls of his office. Your lips break for air when you feel the back of your legs meet the cushions, your chest heaving as you suck in lungfuls of air.

Logan pushes you down onto the couch before one of his hands yanks at his tie, pulling it through the neckline of his sweater, and then he throws the garment away as if it has offended him.  Next comes the black sweater, leaving him with dark slacks and a button-up shirt. 

You feel your cock throb in your pants as you watch Logan lower himself onto his knees. He pushes his way between your legs, his hands going to your hips to get your pants down in a pool between your ankles. 

Your breath comes out in a stutter when Logan leans down, his nose coming into contact with the bulge in your underwear. He runs his nose along the length of your cock, then his tongue runs along the same path, paying extra attention to the wet spot on the cloth that rests over the head of your cock.

You slap a hand over your mouth to muffle your moan when Logan gets your underwear out of the way and swallows your cock. Logan takes it deep enough for you to feel, the hot, wet, constriction of his throat, his hand finding balance on your thighs. 

Logan’s breath puffs wetly against the head of your cock when he pulls away, his spit hardly having the chance to cool and dry as Logan runs his tongue up the length of your cock. He doesn’t take it as deep when he sucks it back inside his mouth, instead, he focuses on the suction. The hot suction of his mouth pulls a glob of precum from the head of your cock onto Logan’s tongue, the older man groaning at the taste.

The vibration through your cock makes your hips jump, sending your cock back deep into Logan’s throat. The movement catches Logan off guard, causing the man to gag around your cock, his throat convulsing wetly around the hard length of your cock. 

You pull the hand over your mouth and put it into Logan’s hair, trying to run your fingers through the strands soothingly. “Sorry,” you gasp, swiping your thumb under Logan’s eyes to wipe away the tears that fell. 

Logan surges up to pull you into a wet, messy kiss. His tongue is immediately in your mouth, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. 

“M’sorry,” you repeat. 

Logan chuckles softly, “it’s okay, baby,” he murmurs, pressing soft kisses on your cheeks.

Your stomach tightens at the pet name, affection coursing through your body. You place your hands on Logan’s belt buckle, already knowing how much you’re going to struggle trying to get his pants undone and out of the way. 

It takes you longer than you want to get his belt undone and his pants unbuttoned, and Logan doesn’t make it any easier when he presses, chaste, soft kisses to your mouth. Once open, Logan stands to get his pants down and off, the large bulge of his cock trapped behind his underwear. 

Just the sight of the bulge has you feeling intimidated, while at the same time making your mouth water. Anticipation joins the mix of lust and intimidation in your gut, which all combine into a feeling of pleasure that has your cock throbbing in the air. 

You place your hands on his waistband, Logan’s hands coming to rest atop yours a second later. With Logan’s help, you push his underwear down slowly, watching second by second as his cock is revealed to you.   

Your fantasies did not measure the actual size of his cock in all of its long and thick glory. It hangs heavy in front of your face, a bead of precum already glistening at the tip. Past the length of Logan’s cock, his balls hang heavy and full. This up close, you can also smell his musk: heady and all Logan.

A broad palm cupping your cheek draws your attention away, turning it instead to Logan’s face. A wave of heat washes over your body when you realize that in the moments where you were taking in the appearance of Logan’s cock, the man had pulled the rest of his clothes off. The button-up now lays in the pile with the rest of his clothes, giving you a full view of his broad, muscular chest. 

“I’ve never seen you so distracted,” Logan says with a smirk, his thumb running along your cheekbone. 

“What?” You question back, your voice breathy. 

Logan’s smirk broadens into a full smile, “I asked if you wanted to take that off.”

At a loss for words, you can barely think of a response, “oh,” you decide. 

Logan chuckles softly, his other hand running along the slit of his cock. When he pulls it away, a strand of precum follows the pad of his finger. Logan pushes his finger past your lips, still open in the shape of the soft oh you just let out. 

You suck at his finger when it touches your tongue, the salty taste lighting up your tastebuds. You hear Logan groan when you suck harder, wanting to get to the flavor underneath and see what Logan himself tastes like. 

Logan’s finger comes free with a slick pop, “let’s get the rest of this off,” he says. 

You only had your shirt and shoes to get off, and what should have been an easy, less than a minute process, felt like a lifetime. Logan tenderly pulled your shoes and socks off, one and then the other. Your shirt was next, coming off slowly with two broad palms sneaking up your shirt. Logan’s lips followed the path his hands made, all the way up to your lips that he kissed after your shirt was tossed away. 

Logan got back into the familiar position he was just in, but instead of sucking your cock, his mouth went lower. He bit into the meat of your thighs, and though you couldn’t see the one on your neck, you were sure that it matched the new ones he was making. 

“Roll over,” Logan commands, pressing a kiss to the mark he just made on your left thigh. Logan maneuvers your body into the position he wants, leaving your body pressed to the front of the couch, and your feet hanging over the cushions in front of Logan.

You press your forehead into the wall in front of you, feeling the puffs of Logan’s breath along your back, “do you have lube?” He asks in a low voice, his lips running across your skin. 

“No,” you reply, your body tense as you try not to shake in anticipation. 

“Fuck,” Logan breathes, his head coming to rest against your shoulder, “that’s okay,” he says, and you feel your body relax, “I can get you wet enough,” With how big his cock was, you doubt it, but it wouldn’t hurt to try. 

Logan’s first step to getting you to be what he says is wet enough is with his tongue. He starts with soft swipes of his tongue, letting you get accustomed to it. It wasn’t like it was hard, especially with the combination of the rough stubble on his face, which only added to the pleasure. 

The next step is spit, which, really you could say goes with the first. You already feel as if there’s enough of it already there from Logan’s tongue, a large extent due to when Logan kept pushing his tongue as far as it could go. It left you clenching down on the wet muscle, clawing your fingers into the couch as it massaged your walls. 

Logan didn’t let up and moved to spit a glob of spit onto your hole when it relaxed after pulling his tongue free. Caught off guard, you jerked forward, your cock coming into contact with the cushion of the couch. The friction had you gritting your teeth trying to stay quiet, hoping that because it was nearly five in the afternoon on Friday, most of the people in the building were already gone. 

Logan was quick to press the spit into your hole with a thick finger, all the way down until you were clenching down on all of it. “There we go,” Logan whispers from behind you, the wet heat of his breath on your shoulder. 

You turn your neck to face him, gasping into the kiss he presses to your lips. Logan swallows the moan that’s punched from your chest when his finger finds your prostate, the older man groaning as you clench down on his finger. 

Logan pulls away from the kiss at the same time his finger is pulled free. You feel the couch shift as Logan moves, the man making his way back down face-to-face with your hole. You’re proud of yourself for not jumping as hard when Logan spits on your hole a second time, the glob going deeper than the first after opening your hole just with one finger.    

“Does it burn, baby?” Logan asks, now that he’s using two fingers to chase after the spit instead of one.

”A little,” you whine around the burn as he scissors them apart. Almost like Logan can read your mind, he brushes his fingers along your prostate when the burn feels like it’s becoming too much. You feel precum leak from your cock, staining the upholstery. 

”That’s normal for your first time,” Logan says, pressing kisses along the shell of your ear. 

”I’ve done this before,” you respond, pushing back into Logan’s fingers. 

”Someone’s fucked you?” Logan asks, his arm coming to wrap around your stomach, right above your hard cock.

”Just my fingers,” you respond quietly. 

“How many?” Logan asks, his fingers coming to a stop. 

“Four,” you grit out, clenching down on his fingers like you’re wordlessly trying to get him to continue. 

Logan lets out a dark chuckle. He lays his hand on top of yours, his big hand bigger than your own. He stretches his fingers out, showing you how they compare in size. “That’s nearly your whole fist,” he says, his fingers starting to move again. 

“Need more,” you whine, clenching down on his fingers. 

“Shh,” Logan coos, “I know,” he lets out a warm breath at the back of your neck, “I can’t fuck you,” he says, pulling his fingers free slowly, “not like this.”

”Please,” you whine, louder than the one before. 

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” he responds, pressing soft kisses to the back of your neck. You feel his weight on the couch shift once more as he spreads your thighs apart. It’s a tight squeeze trying to fit the both of you on the couch, but Logan makes it work. 

He pushes his cock between your thighs, right below your balls, already tight against your cock. He grips your hips tightly before he begins thrusting, only taking a few jerks of his hips before you push your thighs together around his cock. 

The sound of Logan’s groan behind you travels from his chest to your back, letting you feel how good you’re making him feel. ”Does that mean I was the first?” He asks, one of his hands moving to wrap around your cock. 

“What?” You asked, confused, your mind cloudy from the pleasure. 

“Am I the first to touch you like this?” Logan questions, his voice a low growl. His fingers are slick around your cock, gliding along the length. 

You nod quickly, too close to the edge and overtaken with pleasure to even say a single word. You cum to the feel of Logan’s hand around your cock, his teeth biting possessively into the skin of your shoulder, and his cock nudging your balls. Ropes of cum shoot from your cock, staining the couch in his office. You probably won’t be able to look at couches ever the same again. 

Logan’s hand shoots up to your mouth, covering your lips as you moan, overtaken by the pleasure of your orgasm. You rest against his palm, falling forward while at the same time tightening the slick valley of your thighs.

Logan muffles his moan in the crook of your sweaty neck when he cums. It nearly burns, making a bigger mess in your thighs and on the couch. 

In a blur, Logan gets you onto his chest, his back now resting on the couch, “you okay?” He questions, his hand running softly along the sweaty expanse of your back. 

“I don’t think I can move,” you respond, still riding the high of probably one of the best orgasms you’ve had. 

Logan laughs loud enough that your head shakes against his chest. Moments later, when you’re nearly lulled to sleep by the ticking of the clock in his office, Logan speaks, “I’m sorry for getting so frustrated with you,” he says softly. 

“What do you mean?” You question, craning your head to look up at the man.

“I see how smart you are,” he answers, his voice a low rumble, “it made me frustrated to see you not working up to your potential.”

“I said I was sorry,” you immediately respond, not sure if you should pout or roll your eyes.   

“I know, baby,” he says with a smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling, “I know,” he leans down to press your lips together softly, “I just wanted to explain myself.”

This time you did roll your eyes, too fucked-out to try and control your expression, “I’ll write a better paper next time,” you grumble, moving to lay your head down once more over his chest.  

[lurkinglurkerwholurks]

Oh oh I can tell you how I handle this!

First, I must acknowledge that epithets are hard. When writing in a specific character's POV, you have to be careful about describing another character only using descriptors that they would use or it'll feel awkward and weird. (I don't generally think about my sister's height relative to mine and therefore wouldn't refer to her as "the tall one" or even "the taller one", for example, unless it's relevant in the moment. Talking? Not relevant. Her hitting her head on a ledge that I missed? Relevant. That wouldn't be true of someone I just met. If you're tall[er than me] I'm probably noticing it and don't have other ways to differentiate you from other strangers.)

Luckily, I don't usually have to resort to epithets in writing, because readers can generally follow pronouns and support way more proper name uses than you might expect! Pronouns by definition are placeholders for proper names. Where writing gets confusing is when it feels like the pronouns are floating free and unmatched. Reconnecting the proper noun and the pronoun is all you need to reset.

Within a paragraph, use a proper noun enough to be clear. Vague, I know, but it really is an art instead of a science and largely comes down to personal taste. Refining your personal taste can help a ton, and one way to do that is to look at works by people who you feel write these kinds of scenes clearly and cogently. I'm going to use my own writing as an example, just to make it easy for myself.

Structuring your writing so the subject is fairly consistent will help a ton, as will "checking in" with a proper noun when it feels like you've checked in on the other person more recently.

[alt: The muscles in Bruce’s face, Jason realized, were good at going completely still when surprised. That was useful. He had said intervened like Jason had done it on purpose, throwing himself into this nightmare to save Bruce instead of acting like a petulant, stomping child. He had just a moment to wonder if the look from Bruce was meant as gratitude or as an apology when Bruce turned his attention back to the others. “It should reverse in a few days.”]

In the snippet above, because I'm moving tightly between two he/him characters, I use their names just enough to stick into place who's being reference at any given point. If I had wanted to be extra careful, I could have changed "He had just a moment to wonder" to "Jason had just a moment to wonder."

Over multiple paragraphs, when you're sticking with one person, reconnecting (or what I mentally refer to as "checking in") can happen once a paragraph and really shouldn't be needed more than that.

[alt: He really didn’t have much of note to say. Dick narrated his way through the canned goods and the dry goods, making jokes about Wally’s Skittles stash and the cans of Spaghetti-Os Roy demanded be kept on hand but no one else ever touched. He talked about a TV show he had been watching and made a joke that elicited a hrmm from Bruce that would have been a laugh from anyone else. And the more he talked, the more he remembered little stories from his week that he had tucked away with a mental note to tell Bruce.

At last, though, Dick had finished his final story and let the call lapse into a pause that stretched into silence. He bit his bottom lip and fidgeted with the rolls of gauze, stacking them into pyramids outside the gutted medical kit. He could never tell with Bruce whether the silences were contented or an interrogation technique, the patience of an investigator applying pressure to a reluctant witness. In the end, it didn’t much matter.]

But really, truly, the TL;DR of it all is you don't need as many epithets as you think; as long as you don't go crazy with your subject and object switches and check in on your connections regularly, you can lean on pronouns way more than you think; and readers can handle way more uses of names than you might suspect.

Me writing a scene with two or more people of the same gender and trying not to get the readers confused, while also trying not to overuse the characters' names or epithets

[once-in-a-blue-moon-rising]

Seen a few 'maturity is realising that it's not a look of love' videos on Instagram re: 457, and while I do realise it is Not That Deep, I nonetheless have THOUGHTS

The crux of those thoughts is this: has fandom's view of shipping narrowed so far that unless two characters are mashing their faces together on-screen, it's immature to interpret the text contrary to what we assume the creator's intention was?

With this ship specifically, let's start with the obvious: the actors have insane chemistry. This is true whether you see the characters' bond as platonic, romantic, antagonistic, or something else. They are very obviously comfortable and friendly with one another in real life, and this translates into an intense on-screen relationship between Gi-hun and In-ho (and I'm sure this is exactly what the director did want, because, newsflash, this is our protagonist/antagonist duo).

I do think it's valid to ship something based purely off the actors' chemistry, but the comment is obviously referring to the characters themselves in the context of the story, so let's address that too.

There's a clear motivation for the way In-ho stares at Gi-hun, follows him around, and generally tries to insert himself into his life, and this is what these posts are referring to. He's testing his ideology, he's watching how he's affected by the horrific things that are happening around him, and to help him do this, he's ensuring that Gi-hun trusts and likes him. It's important if he wants to prove to him that the world is unchangeable, and humanity irredeemable.

And because of that, it's not the 'look of love'. Case closed?

Well, no.

Because there is so much nuance and depth that you're failing to explore, if a look can only mean one thing.

Because why does In-ho bother? Why is Gi-hun worth his time and interest? In-ho - via the games - has access to resources that far far outweigh the money Gi-hun won. He could prevent him from finding the island forever. He could just have him shot tbh. He's not really a credible threat - at most, he's a minor annoyance, because people need to be paid off every so often to prevent him getting too close.

Just through this detail, we can deduce that In-ho cares, in some way. He is interested enough to want to change Gi-hun's mind, when it would be so much easier to... not. Is it love? It's certainly fascination. And I don't think it can be argued that he brought him back for the VIPs' entertainment and not his own, because Gi-hun was searching for three years before In-ho let himself be found. And even when he's found, it's Gi-hun who suggests going back into the games.

So these stares - yes, he's testing him, but he's doing it because he wants to. They denote genuine interest. How did this guy retain his hope and faith in humanity? How can I prove to him that my view is correct?

And I'm very much not saying that a romantic interpretation is 'correct', because fiction should be interpreted however the audience sees fit, but what is love (in all its forms) if not wanting to know someone and be known by them?

This is even more compelling to me when we take into account In-ho's backstory, which we learn a bit more about in season 2. Because he and Gi-hun are so similar, except in the way they've used their trauma to interpret the world. Which just adds to the evidence that In-ho would be fascinated by this man, be determined to know him and to change his mind.

What I'm saying with all this isn't that 457 is canon, and that anyone who says otherwise is media illiterate. What I'm saying is that the real immature interpretation is one that's surface level, be that interpretation 'uwu he loves him' or 'he's PLOTTING evil things'.

[izvmimi]

cw: platonic!zoro x reader. established romantic relationship with luffy. selfship-coded, reader has a devil fruit.

It’s not often that you and Zoro end up alone together, but today it really is just the two of you, him carrying the majority of the provisions you’d gone into town to collect for the next leg of your trip, and the remainder in the safekeeping of your internal storage. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to just stow away the rest?” you ask for the third time and by this time, Zoro decides to pretend he can’t hear you. In any other scenario, you’d make a comment about him needing to get over that silly fear of being emasculated, but for now you allow it, shoving your free hands in your pockets as you continue on on your stroll.

Even if when you’re around the rest of the crew there’s a huge and frequent show of you generally disliking each other, it’s hard to bicker when it’s just the two of you, because the truth is that you appreciate him tremendously. Zoro doesn’t always talk much, but he’s honest, and that is particularly important to you, making it easy to pour out your heart to him.

Perhaps that’s why today, you feel compelled to tell him exactly how you’ve been feeling these days since your return from the last island. Luffy has been asleep for days, recovering from injury that would probably have killed you on the spot, and while he apologized upon waking up two days ago to see you saddled with huge undereye circles and an open book with tear-staged pages at the foot of his bed, the fact of the matter is that you’re not sure how much longer you can handle this.

The crew is familiar with his wanton disregard for his own life, and perhaps you should know better by now, but it’s just too hard sometimes, and you can feel your heart starting to fill with resentment, and even that adds to your guilt.

Luffy is free, and freedom means choosing to live your life however dangerously you want.

“You know I hate complaining about him, and I know you’ll just tell me that I shouldn’t expect otherwise from Luffy, but just once, I wish he would take better care of himself.”

The thought slips out in a small voice, and Zoro lets it marinate in the quiet afternoon air. Discomfort rises like bile in your throat.

“I shouldn’t have said anything,” you immediately backtrack, but Zoro looks at you and shrugs.

“I get it. It’s fine.”

You bite your lower lip, keeping the gaze at the ground before you. Zoro should know that you’re only frustrated, that you love Luffy more than anything, and don’t mean to speak ill of him, right? It’s just eating at you, the idea that only one of you is preoccupied with the idea of separating for good.

Luffy would be fine without you even in death. You, on the other hand…

You take in a deep breath.

“I trust him,” you say out loud, to which Zoro chuckles to himself for a moment, which makes your cheeks warm in embarrassment.

“What’s so funny?!”

“That you’re this worried about him.” Zoro shoots you a glance, and mercilessly adds - 

“Realistically, you’d probably croak before he does.”

“Wow!” you exclaim in dramatized offense. 

Zoro shrugs. “I mean, I guess he probably cares enough about you that he wouldn’t allow that to happen, but still, I don’t think much can put that guy down for good.”

You pout, but something about that is reassuring, and that heaviness in your chest seems to alleviate just so.

“I guess that’s a relief.”

Zoro snorts again, which has you frowning at him again.

“Is it really this funny?” you ask, indignantly, but when he finally speaks again, his tone is serious.

“I think you’re misunderstanding him a bit,” he finally adds. Stopping for a moment, he gives you his full attention, and suddenly your heart starts to thump at the change in mood. He sizes you up for a moment, as if he’s trying to decide if what he has to tell you is worth it in any way, then lets out a sigh.

“He told me if something ever happened to him, there are a few things he wants to make sure happen for you, so that you’re okay.”

Your eyes widen for a moment, incredulous.

“What?”

Zoro resumes his stride.

“Can’t tell you what they are, though.”

You find yourself running to catch up to him, your heart pounding in your chest. The idea that Luffy has thought ahead, considering you even in the process, is almost too good to be true. 

“So what was the point of even telling me?!” you hiss.

“So you don’t make up some narrative about not being cared for in your head, dumbass.” Zoro says. You stick your tongue out at him which has him scoff and look away, but you’re thankful.

The ship starts to reappear along the horizon and your outlook has changed a bit.

…

By the time you make it back on the ship again, Luffy has woken up from his restorative slumber and is already asking you if you brought any meat amongst your groceries, an arm looping around your shoulders and your waist. But instead of pushing him off of you for grabbing you too quickly, you look at him for a moment, and the sudden affection in your eyes is enough that it actually catches him by surprise.

“Hey, ___, what’s up?” he asks as you really take him in, but you just smile and plant a kiss on his cheek.

“Nothing. I’m just glad you’re back.”

He grins widely. 

“Can’t get rid of me if you tried.”

[llunarpotter]

Tell me about it oml. Just finished rewatching all of them (Just now DH Pt1+2 and oml it really pulls on my heartstrings honestly. Like the fact that Harry went through so much only to then find that he was raised for the proper moment to die from Voldemort. Now imagine that and then not having any parents...

And this is me who never cries over a movie, for some bloody reason DHpt2 is the one that just does because of how much meaning there is behind what Harry went through and just even a moral behind it.

And now to continue reading OotP and make my way to DH. The tears will come all over again.

Oh and not to mention I nearly teared up while reading that one scene in PoA where Sirius offered Harry that he could live with him instead. I watched the films first so I already knew the general what was gonna happen, but still. Damn. My poor boy went throughhh it

yeah I will never be over that part in deathly hallows when harry visits godric’s hollow and thinks about what it would have been like to grow up there with his parents and by the time he gets to their grave he feels so much grief and despair that not only do we get a rare on-the-page cry but he wishes he was sleeping under the snow with them

[simply-tales-on-rainy-yesterdays]

The Batkids like to see who can fuck with Bruce most effectively. The winner is usually Jason, because of just how far he'll go to fuck with Bruce.

So one day Bruce waltzes into the Watchtower and who does he see sitting at the council table? A fully decked out Red Hood - domino mask, guns, full armor. He's got the rest of the league laughing/talking and just smirks and waves when he sees Bruce.

When Bruce asked who the hell let an unauthorized person into the Watchtower, Clark just shrugs sheepishly and said Red Hood was looking to reform and wanted to apply, unbothered by the fact they don't have an application process.

The whole day, Jason is delighted that Bruce can barely contain his annoyance at Jason's interjections at his mission plans, his joking around with Bruce's friends team - Jason has his own team, and his general superior attitude of knowing he was going to get to brag to his siblings about pulling this off.

But the Batkids often forget that Bruce dresses up like a bat to fight crime - he's not above a little embarrassment. So, at the end of the day, just as Jason's Cool GuyTM persona is locked in, Bruce stands up to leave.

"Finish those protocols. And Red Hood?"

Jason looks up, shit-eating grin getting dimmer as Bruce approaches him. "Yeah?"

Everyone is completely caught off guard when Batman sweeps up Red Hood in a tight hug and says "I'll see you at dinner, sweatheart. I hope you had fun today."

The rest of the league is spluttering, trying to figure what in the fuck just happened - Red Hood's cheeks are as red at his domino mask.

"The fuck..."

"You didn't know?" Bruce turns slightly, that almost smile on his face. "Red Hood is my son. And son, you can come to work with me anytime you want."

And with that, Bruce peaces out, Red Hood's reputation is completely destroyed, and now all the league asking him how his school is going like he's still a freaking Robin.

Jason just about dies of embarrassment but he's got to admit, well played, Bruce.

[lazyjellyfish300]

12 𝑫𝒂𝒚𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑺𝒎𝒖𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔~𝑫𝒂𝒚 𝑺𝒊𝒙

synopsis: you and Emo!Kento Nanami, your best friend whom you've been in love with for years, had a falling out. But, when you're assigned to be his secret santa, you come up with a meaningful gift you can only hope will fix things between you before the semester is over and you lose him for good.

Words: 12.5k 🖤

cw: MINORS DNI, xFEM! READER, x EMO!NANAMI, COLLEGE AU, ANGST, reader has "emo" aesthetics i.e.:eyeliner, wears certain clothing(obv self indulgence) ,jealousy, social anxiety , some pick me behavior, mutual pining, fluff, shyness, SMUT (protected p in v, Kento's a virgin, makeout, dry hump, oral f and m receiving, fingering, breast play, rough at the end, orgasm)

a/n: NGL it's been a struggle bus lately but I'm doing my best to finish this damn Xmas series. TY for your patience 🙂‍↕️ @actuallysaiyan my Emo!Nanami guiding light and inspiration as always. 🔥

12 Days of Smutmas Masterlist 🎁🎄🎅🏽

Dividers by @/saradika-graphics, pics from pinterest

You linger like a stubborn shadow in the corner of the overheated, loud, sweaty, and cramped Christmas college party at some frat you can't remember the name of with a Jack Daniels tapestry hanging on the main wall and a musty concoction of weed, beer, cigarettes, B.O. and too much cologne.

You fiddle nervously with your red solo cup, tracing over your name written in black sharpie for what feels like the millionth time, trying to act nonchalant and like you weren't on the verge of being overstimulated.

Jeez, even the line for the bathroom is a mile long. Guess that's out of the question. Oh God, everybody's staring. Kitchen. Okay, let's try that.

You wandered back to the kitchen, stumbling over your black knockoff Doc Martens, trying to preoccupy yourself with the surgeon general's warning on the discarded Mike's Hard Lemonade box instead.

Normally, you wanted zero parts of these holiday ragers with too many people. But, when you got the memo you were supposed to be Kento Nanami's Secret Santa, you knew there would be no getting out of this one.

Especially since you had so much to say to him after all of the things that happened between you two in the last several weeks, and the looming end of the semester threatened to put even more distance between you. You just needed him to hear you out, to apologize, clear the air, do whatever you could to make him not hate you anymore.

----

You weren't sure what it was, but once you two went to college, it was like Kento got hit with a sex pollen that attracted all these women that seemed to spawn out of nowhere. The awkward, shy, Kento seemed to become the object of everybody's desire.

But how could they not? He was the most handsome man you've ever seen, and you stood by that fact as his beauty only grew with each passing year you knew him. He was intelligent, a natural whiz and gifted in both the jujutsu and non jujutsu worlds. Despite possessing all of these fine qualities, his humbleness never wavered, clueless even at just what a gem of a person he really was.

You had no option but to grin and bear it like a thorn in your side, resisting the urge to give into that unbearable wave of nausea that would hit you like a train when you spied some random girl's name on his Blackberry or when a group of them batted their lashes at him while you guys ate lunch in the food court.

"Hiiii, Ken!" They'd giggle as they'd walk past, making him blush while you stood there like chopped liver.

But, you knew Kento, and you had faith in his ability to snuff out all of this false flattery. Most of these chicks would have been the very same ones who bullied you two all throughout middle and high school and made your lives a living hell. You suspected they were just wanting an easy A, or to get in his pants. Either way, the feeling made you sick to your stomach.

They didn't know that his parents were high school sweethearts. They couldn't list his favorite songs, or animes. They couldn't guess his orders at every konbini you frequented after class(and it changed from chips and an energy drink or a soda to shitty coffee and a sandwich depending on which one you visited). And they certainly never knew how the tops of his ears would turn pink whenever you caught him staring at you while you were finishing a thought.

No, those were things sacred only to you, and nobody else as his girl best friend. Best friend. Just friends. Ugh.

And while you were grateful for it, it made witnessing all this unabashed thirst over Kento all the more torturous.

He wasn't yours.

You had zero business telling him who he could be friends with, or talk to. You definitely didn't want to come off as the crazy fucking jealous girlfriend before you even had the title. Kento was smart, but somehow the fact that you've been in love with him for years was one puzzle he never cracked.

It was so pathetically obvious. How you'd cancel all your plans for him at the drop of a hat. How you intentionally wore your hair in that way he liked after that one time he complimented you. How awkward you acted whenever you accidentally touched him. How you almost never talked about any other guys around him and noticeably avoided those questions because the one you loved was standing right there.

But it all came to a head when you heard rumors that he might be taking someone else to the winter formal. Some popular girl from a well known sorority. She had rich parents, stellar grades, and a banging body too, just to add even more insult to injury.

You wanted to crawl into a hole and die.

And how did you cope? By finally texting Atsuya from the football team that of course you'd love to go out on that date you must have wrote him five rainchecks for by now. Always turning him down and putting him on hold in hopes that your best friend would finally wake up after all these years of loving him from afar.

You regretted it as soon as you said yes like a pit that descended to the bottom of your stomach. You ended up canceling out of guilt and pulling the Aunt Flo card, but it looked like the damage had already been done.

You neglected to remember that Kento spent every weekend tutoring the football team in math. You didn't have to guess that Kento must have caught wind of the gossip in the locker room from Atsuya when he went seemingly radio silent overnight.

When you went to meet him in your usual spot to study at the library on Wednesday mornings, he was a no show, and when you texted him, he didn't respond until hours later:

Sorry, had something come up this morning.

Ken? Is everything alright?

Kento?

You called him at least 7 times, embarrassingly enough, and all of them went to voicemail. Finally, he replied:

I'm really busy with exams. I think it's best if we take time apart to focus on our studies and finish the semester.

Was this about Kusakabe? Because if so I can explain...

Silence.

Kento, please.

And he never responded after that.

You didn't push the issue. You knew Kento didn't like to be bothered when he was upset, but God, having him disappear on you like this as though your two favorite hoodies weren't collecting dust in his dresser drawer cut you deeper than any knife.

How do you get over someone who was never yours to begin with?

It seemed like he was dead set on acting like you never existed, like you never saw him when he had nobody, before he became this big shot in college with all the ladies. Like you didn't support him after he lost Haibara and like you didn't have a thousand inside jokes and a shared language between you in the form of pizza, drawing sharpie on his studded belts and each other's notebooks, 80s anime, and loud music that only comes from knowing somebody for so long.

No, it seemed like that Kento you knew was gone, or he was at least acting like he was. And it was all because of stupid jealousy and a date you never actually went on.

The CD that you had burned just for him and clumsily wrapped in Munchlax wrapping paper was weighing in your pocket. You hoped and prayed that even if this was really going to be goodbye, that at least he wouldn't hate you before he went.

----

"Alright *hic*, everyone gather round, gather round."

99% of the attendees are already sloshed as the participants stumble to form a circle around the room for the gift exchange. You couldn't help but notice Atsuya's arm around a mystery date. Seems he took the rejection rather well.

The frat leader stood on a chair in front, yelling incoherent directions you only caught the tail end of, due to the man across the room you couldn't shift your gaze from.

It was Kento, clad in an MCR Christmas sweater with the sleeves rolled up on his forearms(that seemed a little bulkier than you remember), half drunk bottle of Fat Tire beer in his hand, and that amber gaze scanning the room until it came to a stop directly on you.

A noticeable look of shock broke across your face and you looked down immediately. You were certain he caught you, and out of your peripherals you notice he's not phased in the slightest. He simply raises the beer bottle to his lips again, still eyeing you wordlessly from across the room.

The old Kento would have looked away, but this new Kento (possibly emboldened by the free flowing booze), wasn't backing down from you. The rounds of secret santa reveals dredge on from one after another, most of the participants being too drunk to even stand up.

You've lost track of who has who, but you honestly don't care by this point. Your hands are growing clammy and your leg is bouncing more and more restlessly as it approaches your turn to give your gift to Kento.

But, as Shoko stands up next to you and presents her gift to Utahime, you can't help but notice an unknown girl approach Kento from behind, slipping into the seat next to him. Is this the same one he was supposed to take to the dance? You can't tell. There's been so many girls around him by now, you've honestly lost track.

Attention diverted, he turns to her, and she has the audacity to scoot closer and touch his arm. Your mind feels fuzzy as surely the scene playing out in front of you must be a dream. But you only seem to watch it from an out-of-body lense as you see his lips curl into a smile and lean in a little closer to hear what she's saying, their thighs touching.

She's got different hair than you. A completely different style and aesthetic. Probably smart. Probably far more interesting. An absolute knock out. She's the opposite height, opposite build from you. She's the walking antonym of everything that you are not and the ideal encapsulation of everything you wished you could be. She looks so cookie cutter next to him and the soft way he grinned at her looked like one of the special grins he used to give you.

It's too damn much.

The party continues on without interruption when nobody seems to even care or notice that you left. Kento's CD lands discarded on the chair in the wake of hot tears pouring out of your eyelids and ruining your eyeliner as you bolt out of the door.

-----

It's Christmas break, why in the fuck are there no taxis available right now?

You stand pitifully, thumb raised in the snow on the curb trying to hail a cab. You were in no state to drive and your mind was whirring a million miles per hour. At least the agony of what you just witnessed was being temporarily overshadowed by the mind numbing cold the longer you stood out there.

Your mind replayed again all of the times you thought for certain would be the one that he'd finally tell you he loved you. All of the glances, all of the touches that happened by accident, all of the things he remembered about you and the awkward hugs he used to give.

You guess this whole time you were operating with your blinders on. It took you messing everything up and another girl waltzing into the picture for the rose colored lenses to come off and realize that, like always, your mind was right and listening to your heart gets you absolutely nowhere.

No matter how many deep talks and sleepless nights and unspoken words and tears you exchanged over the course of your friendship with Kento, there would always be somebody better. Perhaps he was only ever meant to be nothing more than a friend until he outgrew you completely and the relationship ran its course. You had fallen to the wayside, and you only had yourself to blame for foolishly believing that he was ever worth leaping for.

-----

"Awww looks like emo girl tapped out!"

Kento jerks his head in the direction you once were, noticing the empty chair and small thin present sitting in its place. The girl next to him is still talking, but her voice fades to echoes as he searches, confused, his eyes darting all over when he realizes you must have left.

Kento looks down, his mind traveling somewhere else as the girl continues with her spiel. He puts two and two together, and feels his heart sink in his chest. In all honesty, he knew damn well what he was doing when Christina,(the girl who was now chatting him up and one of his new study partners), came to sit next to him.

He just wasn't expecting you to leave so suddenly. It was childish, he understands that now. And he realizes those feelings that have lingered beneath the surface for you for all these years can't remained buried for long. Maybe he just wanted you to feel how he felt when you agreed to that date with Atsuya.

It crushed him when he found out, so much so that he left the locker room immediately and went back to his dorm and laid down in silence for hours, listening to all the songs he never had the guts to admit were ones that he'd dedicate to you.

He even scored a 73 on his accounting quiz, something completely out of the ordinary for him. But, like most men, he bottled his feelings and chose to run away from the problem by sending you those cold texts.

Time is of the essence with every second that passes that he's not chasing you down in this snowstorm before you slip away for good.

"Hey, look, Christina? I gotta go. Sorry." He mumbled, nearly tripping over his legs as he got up, grabbed his secret santa present, zipped out of the stuffy dorm, and into the night where you disappeared.

-----

"Finally, Jesus Christ..." You murmured as a cab finally pulled up to the curb. The snowflakes started anew, and, combined with the wind chill, were making you tremble like a leaf.

"Wait!!"

Just as you were beginning to step in the backseat, you turned and saw Kento, running at light speed towards you and nearly slipping on ice. Your heart skipped a beat but you turned towards the taxi driver, giving him your address.

"731015 College Road."

"Wait! Shit, goddamn it!" Kento cursed as he skid to a stop, hand outstretched as he stopped the taxi door from slamming in his face.

"What the hell..."

Kento slid in the seat next to you, mumbling apologies as he almost crushed you with his actions, turning red when he caught his breath and was faced with yours and the taxi driver's expressions that were half flabbergasted, half annoyed.

"Same as her." He nodded, realizing his thigh was touching yours and scooting to give you more room, awkwardly looking at the ground.

The driver hmphed and shook his head, tossing his cigarette out the window as he pulled away, leaving you and Kento with no option but to endure the awkward silence of the painful ride.

The dorms you two live in are about 10 minutes away, but it feels like it's been stretched into an hour.

You can hear the scratchy sound of February Stars by Foo Fighters coming through the radio. At least you have that as a distraction.

"So, it's been a while."

"Has it?" You ask sarcastically, folding your arms and shifting your knees to point in the opposite direction.

"Look, I'm sorry..." Kento starts cautiously.

"For what?" You know exactly what you want an apology for, but your pride wants him to say it first.

"For dipping out on you like that." Kento replies, a bit uncomfortable now that the beer he downed earlier was loosening its grip. "For ignoring your calls and texts without hearing your side and being a bad friend."

"I tried to tell you, Kento. But you wouldn't even give me a chance to explain. I hope you had fun with your new girlfriend."

"... girlfriend?"

"Goodbye, Ken."

"Wait-"

The taxi screeched to a halt that made Kento flop back in his seat when you were already opening the door and practically attempting to jump out of the moving taxi.

"Goddamnit!!" Kento seethed again, then handed an extra $20 to the cab driver before jumping out, cheeks blooming red again. "For the trouble."

The cab driver raised his chin, accepting the $20 and driving off with a shake of his head.

Crazy drunk college kids and their relationship problems.

------

Kento called your name as you speed walked towards your dorm. "Stop! For two seconds, please!"

"For what?" You croak with tear streaked eyes.

"So I can tell you that I never went to winter formal. And there's nothing going on with me and Christina. There's nobody."

"Really?"

Kento huffs. "Seriously? You know me better than that. Do you honestly think I'd go to some nightmare dance?"

"I dunno. I thought I knew you, Ken. You've been acting differently lately." You resume walking again.

"How?" Kento asks, chasing you down.

"Nevermind..." You turn to put your key in the door.

"Hey, you left this." Kento hangs his head slightly as he shows you the CD he's holding, the secret Santa present you were supposed to give him.

You feel yourself freeze. "That..."

"It's got my name on it. Was it from you?"

"I mean, it was..." You go back to trying to unlock your door, the keys slipping through your fingers like butter.

Kento stands in front of you, slightly blocking your way. "You're not gonna unwrap it with me?"

You sniff and wipe a couple of tears with your free hand and avert your eyes.

Kento feels his stomach twist with guilt. How he wanted to reach out and comfort you. But the volatility of the situation leaves him unsure. He thinks for a moment, then breaks the silence.

"Look. I have the new Super Mario Bros if you wanna come over." He offers, lowering his voice as he extends this olive branch. "We can chill and do whatever. Maybe have a jam sesh like old times?"

You paused, evaluating this proposition. "For the Wii?"

"I'm stuck on World 7." He blushes.

You scoff. "Bullshit. You're the one always carrying me in that damn game."

"Okay, okay. I haven't started it, actually." He confesses.

"Wait, you haven't, why not?"

"I dunno, it..." He releases a shaky sigh. "It didn't feel right playing without you."

You take a step back, touched and a little dizzy from this whiplash at this realization that maybe he actually missed you after all.

He waits and the silence weighs heavy between you, his ears turning more pink and his stomach somersaulting more violently with each moment you don't respond.

"Please say something?" Kento pleads.

You do a quick appraisal and realize: what's the use? You couldn't say no to him even if you tried.

"What about curfew?"

"Um, well..." He rubs the back of his neck with his hand, subtle slyness in his tone. "I was sorta thinking that nobody needed to know. My roommate's gone for the holidays and it's just me."

You nodded, understanding, but also quite apprehensive with what this could mean. You weren't sure Kento was off the hook completely, but the part of you that missed him pushed you to say yes. You could sort out all of that later. For now you just missed your best friend.

"Okay. Yeah, I'd like that a lot. Lemme get some clothes from my room really quick? And I'll meet you back out here?"

"Y-yeah! Of course. Do whatever you gotta do." Kento blushed again and gave you one of those grins you so missed, relieved they were back.

—

"Ready." You smile at him a short time later as you come out of your dorm with your duffel bag with all the pins hanging off it you mostly bought and didn't shoplift from Hot Topic back in junior high. He smiles at the sight of you in your black Good Charlotte hoodie. One of his, as a matter of fact. 

"That mine?" He asks, moving to the side to allow you to walk next to him in the hallway. 

"Yeah, you left it here a while back." You respond sheepishly. "It was cozy to sleep in." 

Kento can't ignore the warmth he feels everywhere at your admission. 

"Glad it could be of assistance." He looks at you fondly as you approach the entrance to his dorm. "You're gonna wanna put that on." 

Your breath halts as he carefully adjusted the collar of your hoodie, pulling the hood over your head, making sure your hair is completely concealed.  

Kento pulls you in closer against his body as you two walk in the common area, blessing you with a faint concoction of cigarettes, his cologne, and that laundry detergent of his that smelled so good. You were equal parts relieved and flustered to be so close in his proximity.

Luckily there aren't many students up at this hour. A small group of guys sit in a corner with their beers and smokes, and one or two sit by themselves in various parts of the room trying to cram for last minute finals. They barely notice the imposter that Kento's sneaking in, a dark hoodied figure leaning on his shoulder. 

"RIP. Man must have drank too much," they think to themselves before paying you two no more mind. 

-----

"Here we go." Kento whispers as you arrive at his doorstep. He fishes his keys from his pocket attached to the friendship bracelet keychain you made for him one summer with his initials: KN. You feel a pleasant flutter of your heart when you recognized it. 

You walk in Kento's small apartment which is impressively neat and cozy, with posters of his favorite bands on his wall, bookshelves lined with some of his anime figurines he collected and football jerseys and trophies on the other from his roommate. 

The small, knee high Christmas tree you found on clearance together at a department store sits in the corner with a mod poge of ornaments you bought from Goodwill, smiling when you see Gary from SpongeBob, a poké ball, and a mac and cheese ornament hanging side by side. 

"Make yourself at home." Kento gestures a little bashfully despite the fact that you've been over here many times, setting your overnight bag on the couch and letting you take off your shoes. "You hungry?" 

"Hmm, you know what? I am, actually." 

Kento smiles. "What sounds good?" 

"Umm...what do you have?" 

"Well, let's see." Kento strolls over to the kitchen with you in tow. "We have..." He clicks his tongue as he opens the pantry while you open the fridge door. "Granola bars, stuff for PB&Js. Protein powder."

He laughs when you make a face at him. 

"Lemme see..." You take the canister of protein powder from the shelf. "Is this your roommate's?" 

"Yeah. He makes shakes with it every morning." 

"Blech." You shudder. 

"Um, oh, we have Gushers." He pulls down the box. "Damn, there's only one." He offers it to you. 

"I'm not gonna eat your last Gusher, Ken!" 

"I insist." He chuckles. "C'mon. I already ate the entire box by myself."

"Share with me." You fold your arms, unwilling to budge. 

"Fair enough." Kento shrugs and opens the pack for you, letting you choose the first one. You grab a blue one and pop it in your mouth with a grin, relishing the blue raspberry explosion on your tongue. 

Kento looks fondly at you, popping a green one in his mouth before looking in the fridge with you. "Unfortunately we only have mostly healthy options besides the Gushers." 

"Boringg." You poke your head underneath his arm to take a gander at the sparce options. You spy a bag of shredded cheese and get an idea. "Do you have tortilla chips?"

Kento catches your drift. "Yeah, actually. Nachos?" 

"Nachos." You grin. 

Soon, the countertop is transformed into a makeshift nachos station as you sprinkle the cheese on a high pile of chips in a bowl big enough for you two to share. 

As it melts in the oven, you two take to the couch and get a head start on the new Mario Bros. The new propeller power up takes some getting used to, but you can't help the laughs and guffaws that escape you both as you play together, the never ending curse words streaming from your mouth when you lose the power up to a stray Goomba. 

And, like you predicted earlier, although you come close to besting Kento in skill level, he's still standing when you two are battling Bowser Jr. and he carries you across the finish line when the shell hit and killed you at the last minute. 

"God..." You drop the remote on the coffee table and he snickers as he looks over at you. "Looks like it's time for a break." 

You pause the game and go back in the kitchen where you feast on the homemade nachos. Somehow they taste even better at 11 pm as the gooey cheese melts in your mouth, punctuated by the satisfying crunch of the corn tortilla chips. 

Kento enjoys it too. His eyes cautiously steal glances of you popping chips in your mouth so casually in his space. He doesn't dismiss the underlying elephant in the room which is the fact that the hour is late and you're alone with these implications between you that neither have been bold enough to give a voice to thus far. 

He needs to figure out a way to broach the topic, but he's drawing a blank. 

"I have a confession, Ken." 

His mind jumps to fight or flight, but his legs keep him right where he is. He wasn't expecting you to start this mid-nacho, but he guesses better to rip the bandaid off now. 

"Yes?" 

"...I'm still hungry." You throw him that adorable look that you reserved especially for when you were about to be begging for something. 

And he's a willing victim in this cute little trap you laid. That wide glimmer in your pupils could get him to do whatever you wanted. 

"Well, what were you thinking of getting?" He cocks his head. 

"I'm thinking these nachos have me craving Taco Bell." 

And who is he to say anything but yes? Especially since the mention of Taco Bell sets off a resounding grumble in his stomach that even surprises him. 

"Alright, deal."

----

The hour is well past when you two should be asleep by now, several cheesy gorditas, Cinnabon bites and nacho fries later washed down with Baja Blast and more booze. 

You're underneath a blanket next to him on his bed. The twin size of the mattress leaves you no option but to be right up against him with your thighs and arms touching. The mood has certainly shifted, with both of you scared to be the first to acknowledge it. 

"Well..." 

"Well..." 

You can't help but burst out laughing. 

"What?" Kento looks at you incredulously. He can't help but nervously laugh along when your wheeze of laughter ends up being more funny than the persistent awkwardness. 

"I...nothing." You shake your head, backing down from opening the can of worms yet again. 

Kento sighs. "Well, um. Should we open my present before we pass out?" 

Your stomach feels that familiar pit building inside it.  All the fast food you just ate certainly isn't helping the case either as it does slow somersaults with the reveal you know is coming. "Yeah, go for it." 

Kento can pick up on your discomfort, because in all honesty he feels the same. But there's no time like the present. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't dying to know what you got him either. 

He sits up, reaching towards the edge of the bed where the present is sitting. He reads the sticker that says in sharpie: 

To: Kento 🖤

From: your secret santa 

He wonders if his heartbeat is audible on your end as he earnestly tears the wrapping paper off(after appreciating your choice in wrapping paper as one of his favorite Pokemons) until the CD is all that remains. His eyes widen and he reads aloud the message written on the CD again in sharpie: 

I'm sorry Kento. Merry Christmas. 

Love was written and signed off with your name right underneath. 

"Thank you. Really, I...this means a lot." Kento normally tripped over his words but you really left him speechless this time. Trading music was a religion between you two already, but this gesture of burning a CD for him was one you had never done for him before. 

"You're welcome, Ken." You answer in a way you hope is cheerful. 

Kento stands up, walking over to his CD player. There's a click and a mechanic whirr disturbing the quiet space as it roars to life. He loads it up then closes the tray, pressing play on Track #1, and turning bright red when the Peavey speaker absolutely blasts the song at full volume unexpectedly, making both of you jump 10 feet in the hair. 

"FUCK! SHIT!! Oh, shit..." He mumbles as he cranks the volume control down. "Sorry...Jesus, fuck..." 

You can't help but laugh, much more loose now the initial shock was over with and at Kento's adorable scared expression. "You shoulda seen your face just now!" 

Kento shakes his head and teases back as he walks back to the bed to sit next to you. "Y-you looked just as ridiculous, y'know." 

You giggle. "Sureeeee." You glance at the window. "Ya think your neighbors are gonna snitch on us for playing music too loud at 2 am?" 

"Fuck if I know..." Kento sighs, laying his head back against the headboard as he takes his place next to you. "Let's just...listen to the music, alright?" 

"Yessir, Kento, sir." 

"Don't say that." Kento pokes you playfully with his elbow. 

"Why not?" You prod back.

"Makes me sound like I'm old as shit or something..." Kento huffs, but he smiles at you all the same. 

You both go back to listening, and he perks up in recognition. 

"We the Kings. Alright, not a bad start, not bad at all." He smiles and closes his eyes. You look over at him, at your best friend with his relaxed expression.

The way those long bangs fell backwards over his forehead to showcase those enchanting eyes that could be so elusive, that Adam's apple that bobbed in his throat, the way his humble beauty never left his face no matter what state it was in. And, right now was your favorite, with his head thrown back and his body right next to yours listening to your favorite music in the world, hands dangerously close together on your respective laps. 

You look straight ahead again as the song plays. Gradually, the curve of Kento's closed lip smile begins to slowly fade as he catches wind of the lyrics from the song currently playing: Rain Falls Down. 

I hear your voice and what we talk about

And I'm trying to say what won't come out

Yeah, I'm trying to fix what's broken now

And I'm wishing that I could take your hand

And set you on some untouched land

Just so you are never sad again

And the world you've known will somehow end

There's a beating to your heart

That I just can't be apart

I can feel the rain fall down on us together

Just wait for the sunshine

Let's wait for the new day

When we can get away

It's me and you held close together

Hold on for the long ride

This won't be easy

Tonight

Hear my voice and know that I am here

I'm always there to wipe away your tears

I lay your hair behind your gentle ear

And tell you there is nothing more to fear

You are the reason I am the best I'll be

So let me stitch your heart so it won't bleed

And I won't rest until you finally breathe

'Cause I still love you more than anything

The song eventually ends and you can't deny there's more tension in the air than before you started. However, Kento wonders if maybe it was just coincidence. After all, what were songs nearly always about at least half the time? Love. 

You're staring at your Nightmare Before Christmas socks, too nervous to even look at him, wondering if he's figured it out. But, you catch your breath when the next song starts playing and it doesn't seem to be the case just yet. 

Kento wouldn't have guessed you'd put one of his favorite songs by Bright Eyes on the CD, either. Funny enough, this one happens to be one of several songs on that top secret playlist of his that he dreamed of dedicating to you one day. He's only astonished you managed to beat him to it. This time he's listening with you, it hits him like a rock. 

And so I thought I'd let you know

Yeah, these things take forever, I especially am slow

But I realized that I need you

And I wondered if I could come home

Remember the time you drove all night

Just to meet me in the morning?

And I thought it was strange, you said everything changed

You felt as if you'd just woke up

And you said

"This is the first day of my life

I'm glad I didn't die before I met you

But now I don't care, I could go anywhere with you

And I'd probably be happy"

So if you wanna be with me

With these things there's no telling

We just have to wait and see

But I'd rather be working for a paycheck

Than waiting to win the lottery. 

Besides, maybe this time is different

I mean, I really think you like me

The song ends and it's quiet for a moment before the next song starts. 

"I wasn't expecting that..." Kento uttered quietly. You turned, and he was already looking at you. The third song, All My Heart by Sleeping Sirens begins to play in the background.

There's so many things that I could say

But I'm sure it would come out all wrong

You've got something that I can't explain

Still I'll try and try and let you know

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" You notice his voice is thick, emotion where you weren't expecting it as your own tears well up once again. 

"I wanted to. Believe me, I wanted to, Ken. I literally tried to-' 

"I mean before..." Kento clarifies, grateful the dim bedroom makes the heat in his face somewhat less visible. "A-all this time, I mean..." He sighs wearily, and makes a shaky inhale, his shoulders begging to be relieved of this burden that he's carried since exactly one week after he first met you in elementary school. 

It's spanned years and ebbed and flowed, but it has never left him completely. It was more than just a crush. It may have started out that way, but to label something so special that's endured this long would be doing you the disservice of a century. 

You meant so much more than that to him. He'd give you the entire world for the simple fact that in his eyes, you were forever worthy of it. 

"We've known each other for ages..." Kento's voice hovers above a whisper and it lingers next to your ear. "I wish you told me."

That first summer we spent's one we'll never forget

Looking for any kind of reason to escape all the mess that

We thought was what made us

Ain't it funny now? We can see

We're who we're meant to be

His voice is much closer to you now, and you're still afraid to fully turn and look up at him directly for fear that you wouldn't be able to hold back once you did.  

"What's the point?" Your tears slip past your waterline once again and create trails of hot salt on your cheeks. "You've already outgrown me, Ken. Tonight has been wonderful, but let's not pretend like you haven't been distant lately and a completely different person." 

Kento's heart breaks and in defiance, he turns your chin to finally look up at him. He's alarmed to see all the tears running incessantly and he feels it wrench when he realizes he's the cause for them. 

"But how?" He asks quietly as he turns his thumbs into tissues to wipe them away. He can't help the thought at the forefront of his mind as he does this: you're still unbelievably stunning this way. Emotions worn boldly on your sleeve: puffy eyes, snotty nose and all. 

"I thought you were tired of me. I mean, Atsuya told me you were..." 

There's too many times I have to say

I could have been better and stronger for you and me

You always make me feel okay

Those late summers we spent, stay up talking all night

I'd ask "you think we'd ever make it?"

You'd say "I'm sure if it's right"

Ain't it funny to think just how stupid I used to be

Hope you always believe

You still have all of my

You still have all of my

You still have all of my heart

It clicks for him all at once and now he wants to kick himself in the shins. 

"This is still about Christina and the formal, isn't it?"

You hiccup as you shudder a little bit more as the tears still don't relent. "E-ever since junior year started, Kento. It was just everything. I thought I was losing you with all this attention that you were getting. I thought I was being left behind. You've always been so smart. A-and those girls are all really pretty, smart, and funny..." You hang your head in shame and Kento's heart skips a beat, staring at you in disbelief.

How could you not see that you were pretty, and every bit as smart and funny? 

"Even if you didn't feel the same, I didn't want to lose my best friend. But I didn't wanna hold you back either..."

Kento brings you into his chest as he lets you sob into it without saying anything else right away. How painfully obvious the answer was all this time and here he stood with his head proudly in the sand, partly with blind acceptance of all this unsolicited attention that fed his ego, not knowing he was doing it to distract himself from what he's known clearly all along: being utterly in love with you. 

"You could never, ever lose me." Kento answers, cupping your face, bringing your gaze back to meet his. "You're not holding me back, either."

You want to look away with embarrassment with how snotty and disgusting you must look right now as you just sobbed and sobbed your eyes out in front of him but he's not deterred, not even in the least as he sooths you with his lulling voice. 

"I never went to the dance. I swear on my life. I talked to Christina at the party tonight because I was jealous of you and Atsuya but that was a dick move of me. I'm not ever gonna be stupid enough to put myself in a position to lose you again. I'm not gonna hurt you like that ever again. I swear to you..." 

Those tender pools like melted caramel of his travel down to where your lips part softly in surprise with every emotional confession he gives you. These were details he only ever dreamed about. Part of him wonders how he could even be this close to possibly finding out and crossing that line between fantasy and reality to where you'd no longer be just a daydream to him. 

"And I don't want anyone else..." He whispers. "It's you I've wanted. It's always been you. It's always ever going to be you. They couldn't come close to you even if they tried." He holds your hands more earnestly as he continues with this fire that was lit underneath him that emboldened him with each sacred truth he unraveled. 

"Can you forgive me? Can you forgive me for being the world's biggest dumbass? I'm so sorry, I'm sorry I-"

His train of thought is quickly evaporated under the object of your loving stare, and the dwindling space between your face and his. For a moment he forgets how to breathe, once again marveling at how pure you were, even in the afterglow of your tears.

Especially in the afterglow, when your cheeks shone with the gleam they left behind, leaving the windows to your soul exposed to his. You remind him how to breathe again when that soft swipe of your thumbs over the back of his hand anchors him to this moment with you right before the fall. 

There's only one thing left to do and it's like you two move in sync as you lean towards one another and the song continues to blare in the background. 

Let them talk and talk and talk

Let them say what they want

We will laugh at the thought they don't know what we've got

The first meeting of your lips began as the most dainty brush. Kento's not sure how hard or soft to kiss you, and so he plays it overly safe, making himself almost as stiff as cardboard as he freezes at the first contact, hands still a clammy mess as they cling to yours.

At first, you were a little thrown off by the reluctance, momentarily worrying if he didn't actually want to kiss after all. You try to reassure him by leaning a little bit closer, using one of your hands to hold the side of his neck.

To your relief, Kento melts in response as though your touch granted him permission. You stay locked like that for a while in your first kiss and a half, lips molded harshly against the other's.

Neither of you want to be the one who ends the kiss, so you hold it for as long as you possibly can until you realize you've been going without oxygen a moment too long and you hastily break apart, softly exhaling against his open mouth, leaving Kento blooming the deepest shade of red he's been all night.

"S-sorry that was kinda..." Kento clears his throat, the shade of red worsening with mortification at how sweaty his hands were. "You're... you're my first, so..."

You smile at him, determined to put him at ease which he felt immediately with tingles blooming in his ribcage as you leaned in and tenderly brushed noses with him.

"It was perfect."

And you meant it. For two awkward college kids who barely found themselves venturing into romantic territory after being friends for so long, that kiss couldn't have gone any other way for you two.

But, you don't want to end your exploration here just yet, and Kento doesn't either. These deserted hours past midnight, the romantic tunes, and the enticing way he looks right now encourages you more and more to press the gas pedal.

"Do you wanna do it again?" He asks and he beams when you say yes. He leans in again, a bit hurriedly but he catches himself as he learned from the last time to slow down a bit. He releases both of your hands and cups your face this time.

You allow him to take the lead, letting him drink his fill of your beautiful face. The flutter of your eyelashes over a pair of irises with a color that made him feel weightless, the arch of your brows, and the hypnotic parting of your lips. You stun him in the rawest way and make him melt where he sits.

Unknown to you, all of those times you did your hair and makeup and wore your best outfits before tonight don't hold a candle to the way you look to him right now. It's because this one was fully intended for him in the sanctity of this moment when you've been your most vulnerable with him, in all of your precious, pure and unfiltered honesty.

And you could not be more beautiful to him than that.

He expresses this by wordlessly bringing his mouth to yours once more, cautious then loving all at once as he allows them to engulf you completely.

Every year that goes by, a year older we are

You'll still be beautiful then, bless your beautiful heart

They'll talk and talk and talk

How crazy is it?

Someone could waste their whole life, helplessly

Just patiently waiting for a love like you and me

This second kiss carried sparks more potent than the first. You become amazed at how quickly he learned as he begins to slowly open his lips against yours, embarking in their first slow dance together as they daintily pucker and press, before they seamlessly pick up a rhythm. You glide your tongue along his bottom lip until he responds with his own, the feeling trickling hotly to your core like lava.

The slick and wet roll of your tongues that map and trail thoroughly inside your mouth and his leaves Kento particularly dizzy, softly panting intermittently between each reunion. The faint taste of sunscreen from his Blistex chapstick mixes well with your raspberry lip gloss. Each little moan he makes is laced with the baritone of his normal speaking voice, the masculinity of it and his growing weakness causes you to move with more urgency, kissing him more passionately.

Kento's not opposed to this invitation one bit and he adjusts his fervor to meet yours, sitting up and pulling you into his lap. This new position unlocks a new level of ferality in your brain. His size quickly gives himself away as you feel his bulge pulse in his skinny jeans where the thin barrier of your leggings allows you a sinful sneak peek. All bets are off now as the walls between you have completely crumbled.

"Kento..."

"Baby, please...holy fuck..."

You grind against him, pausing after every roll of your hips for the friction to linger, chasing that relief for your aching clit that could only be cured by humping his fat cock.

Kento feels his restraint loosen impossibly fast. It felt like he went from never driving to speeding on the interstate. It's a lot all at once, but holy fuck does it feel good.

He allows you to overpower him, laying backwards on the bed with his head on the pillows as he pulls you on top of him.

"I didn't go on that date with Atsuya..." You pant then squeal at the abrupt change in position. "I swear to God, Ken. I didn't, fuck, I couldn't..."

Kento feels himself lighting on fire from this knowledge, seizing your ass cheeks in his hands as he too chases that feeling, that pulsing of your pretty pussy over his cock that he just knew was soaking through the fabric.

"Haa-aah....y-you didn't?" He throws his head back with his jaw dropped open, letting a heady moan escape as you kiss and suck his neck with uncaged vigor, still focusing on thrusting his hips upwards against yours where they magnetize and shove against your clothed cunt with building greed.

"I-I didn't, baby I swear to God..." Wetness builds in the corners of your eyes as he positions you directly over his thigh instead, hands flying to help you tear off your hoodie as he encourages you to ride him.

You lean down and kiss him deeply again, your breasts squishing against him and threatening to spill from your cups as the motion of you riding his thigh causes one of the straps to spill over your shoulder.

"I don't know what I was thinking...just thought about you the whole time. Just wanted you, Ken...I couldn't do it... I promise, I'm so sorry-"

"Aa-aah, fuck...I-I believe you, sweetheart." Kento's eyes clench closed in ecstacy, his hands following the dizzying pattern of your hips as they bumped and churned on his thigh.

"Fuck me I...I..." He pants, a sheen coat of sweat beginning to dot his forehead. "I'm not gonna fuckin last like this, baby, God...."

You show him a little mercy, stalling your hips as you dipped your head down to passionately make out with him again, postponing the tension of the tight coil that was building low in your belly. You both hummed pleasantly as you enjoyed kissing one another deeply again. The softness of the act was a welcome distraction from Kento nearly cumming all at once in his pants, dual wet spots from you both in your underwear and his boxers bearing the proof.

"Can I...be inside you?" He aims his next kiss at your throat, his lips thrumming with the tender melody of your sigh at his question.

"Are you sure, baby?" You greedily roll your hips again and he groans loudly. Clearly, you didn't need much convincing.

"Yeah I'm sure." Your foreheads meet one another and his thumbs skim your cheeks. "I have protection too." He adds before nuzzling against you.

"As long as you're certain you want your first time to be with me..."

"I'm positive." He replies, the reminder from the subtle pressure of you spread out on top of him makes him fight to bite back the desperation in his tone.

"You're the only one I ever wanted to do this with." He confesses, his cheek twitching when a section of your hair tickles his face, fanning a subtle waft of your PINK perfume. He flushes again and massages up the soft sides of your waist as he speaks.

"Just...just bear with me if...if I don't know what I'm doing or just tell me what feels good and I'll do it."

You nod and smile with a wave of anticipation for what's coming, "Of course, Kento. You're completely safe with me. And I trust you too."

Tonight wasn't your first time. You had a few sexual encounters but none of them were anything worth writing home about. There was no question that tonight with Kento was already leaps and bounds better than anything you ever experienced before, and the feelings that ran deeply between you weaved it with an undercurrent that made it even more special than any connection you've made. His pureness, his consideration for you, his sweetness towards you made you want to do anything for him.

"Good, good."

"Well..."

Awkward silence.

"Should we take off our clothes?" He inquires awkwardly.

"Mm, well, we could always keep kissing while we do it. Makes things a little bit more fun if you want to try."

"Yeah, yeah let's try it."

You smile down at him, tucking the stray pieces of your hair out of the way as you resumed locking lips with him again.

Unexpectedly, Kento takes the reins. Before, the kisses were experimental, slow and tender to express your affection. Now, you kissed as though to express your mutual, stirring desire. Kento moved his lips and tongue as if he was trying to devour you, pushing against you as he sat back up and pulled you into his lap again.

You tug on his bottom lip with your teeth and he hisses and responds by grabbing your breasts. When he does, you release his lip and whine into his mouth. He smirks, pleased with this effect he was having on you, feeling more and more brave the longer he stays immersed in this steamy experience with you. His long fingers quickly move to your bra clasp.

"Okay?" He pants, cheeks still dusted with color. The evidence of his exertion from him putting in the work with you leaves you swooning quite a bit as you take in his pretty, blush tinged face.

You nod and the bra clasp comes undone with little resistance. The weight of your soft globes bounces in the most alluring way when they spill from the cups of cloth. Kento groans, completely mesmerized from the first glance, letting his eyes roam and soak you up, moving back to look up at you where you sit perched in his lap, the perfect position for him to worship.

"You're so beautiful..." He whispers. "So, so beautiful...." He brings your breasts together, loving the line that forms down the middle when he squishes them together, and the way your nipples peek between his fingers. It was awfully possessive, viewing them this way, reserved for his eyes and for his touch only.

He wishes to claim them even more and leans in without a second thought, licking your left tit into his mouth. You throw your head back at the same time his eyes his roll back in his skull, starting to ride the outline of his cock through his jeans as he sucks and laps up your breast to his heart's content.

He pulls back a bit, a saliva string that drips around the pointed end of your nipple and continues in a slick trail as he moves to the right. He surprises you and pins you underneath him, mouth still attached to your right tit. You purr at him as you play with his hair while he sucks in your tits, memorizing the way his blonde locks run like silk through your fingers, how your thighs look now that they're spread on either side of his lean waist.

You help him unzip his skinny jeans, peeling them down as he finishes his work on your breasts that now gleam shiny with his spit, bidding both farewell as he hollows his cheeks and sucks his lips abruptly, leaving both nipples in a pointed puckered state from his tongue.

He watches as you slip out of your leggings underneath him, reaching down to help you tug them off, entranced with the soft flesh that dimples and only adds to the supple, divine figure you possess that he's touched himself at night to countless times. You're completely bare to him now besides your panties, kissed in the moonlight with your hair behind you like a halo.

"You're so perfect..." He praises you again, the shadows lining his face that was surely burning under the warmth of your ethereal gaze.

"I don't understand how I'm so lucky."

"I'm the lucky one." You reassure him as your lovely mouth curls into his favorite smile, gazing in his eyes as you go to rub his cock through his boxers. However, your pupils expand in shock when you're met with a heavy package that doesn't even fit in your hand.

Kento blushed as he noticed your reaction to his size, standing off to the side of the bed and stripping down, sliding his boxers hastily down his long legs. His cock is a slight beige that's sweaty, long, and pink at the tip, and it flops out in front of you all of its manly glory.

You feel equal parts aroused and scared. There is absolutely no shortage of size anywhere on his intimate area. Your pupils expand again as you observe how the circumference is almost proportional to its length, to his large set of balls.

His pubes are neatly trimmed, but there's certainly a generous amount that makes up the forest of dark hair, different from the color on his head that bushes around his thick base. It dances up his belly button in a pattern that makes your brain go fuzzy and your clit throb for attention.

Even if he looks like he could split you in half, you can't help how absolutely heavenly he looks in this moment, looking down at you with shyness and anticipation, like he's equally excited for what's about to happen, and that he hopes you like what you see.

"You're absolutely perfect, Kento..." You whisper. Your fingertips find his in the dark, eyes still locked on each other as he entertwines with yours.

"Every inch of you."

"No way, you're the perfect one..." He takes your hands in both his palms, bringing them to his mouth to plant a set of tender kisses on both sets of knuckles before he turns to his dresser to retrieve one of the condoms that he's had forever but never used, elated that it's with you.

"No way." You shake your head and he blows air through his lips. Before he can slide the condom on, you stop him, "Wait..."

Kento's eyes go wide as he watches you crawl seductively towards him, breasts bouncing, beautiful, and bare across his bed and eye level with his staggering length.

"Let me make you feel good. Please?"

Kento's always wanted a blow job. Truth was, he was hoping that he could possibly get his first tonight with you, but he'd never, ever ask in a million years. He felt like that was way too forward, and the last thing he'd want is to make you uncomfortable or make himself look like a selfish guy. He can't help but feel impossibly turned on in this moment, turning to you with a lustful expression.

"R-really?"

"I'd love to." You purr, aiming your gaze innocently through your eyelashes as you softly kiss his bulging tip. "Let me pleasure you, Kento..."

He tilts his head as he looks down on you, fingers cradling the corner of your jaw as you stick out your tongue, swirling it around the pink tip. Kento shudders immediately and you relish his sensitivity to just the careful licks of your tongue, imagining just how responsive he must be when you're taking the full thing in your mouth, or your pussy.

Your tongue laps slowly around the tip, and then the underside of his shaft, goading him slowly until you wrap your mouth around as much of him as he can, until you slowly begin to bob your head.

"Fffuck...." Kento almost loses his footing at where he's standing next to the bed, hands immediately anchoring themselves in your hair as he can't help but chase that fuzzy feeling you're giving him all over, beginning to rhythmically move his hips into each motion of your pretty lips down the veiny length of his cock.

"That-haaah, please, please keep going..."

You smile and coo to let him know you have absolutely no plans of stopping anytime soon.

He's so soft. His taste is nothing unpleasant or particularly delicious, but oddly rousing in his own way. His faint musk from his bush and salt from his skin makes you want to seek more of him so you can taste him properly, until he's dripping down your throat, or between your legs, you're not picky at all by this point. And feeling him throb in your mouth with every soft purr and moan you give him to let him know how good he feels is so fucking sweet.

"Shit...shit..." Kento pulls out of your warmth unexpectedly, panting and wincing as he feels his balls draw tight, aching by this point as he inadvertently edged himself.

"I'm sorry, aaah..." He grunts and takes a deep breath.

"Are you okay, Ken?" You ask, slightly alarmed as you scoot over and allow him to sit down.

"I'm...I'm perfect." He puffs. "Just...just thought I was gonna cum back there, and I didn't want to. Not yet." He blushes. "I'm really sorry about that. I really really liked it."

"No, don't be sorry." You lean your head on his shoulder, the tunes from the CD were still playing. You two take a breather, pausing to listen to some Margot and the Nuclear So and Sos.

"It-hah...it felt really fucking good, just to let you know." Kento interrupts, one of his hands coming to trace over your spine.

"Haha, I'm so glad." You whisper, moving your lips to kiss his cheek, giving his ear a little lick.

Kento exhales tiredly and you smile as you see him twitch and start to go fully erect again. So adorable.

"Are you sleepy?" You ask, beginning to leave more kisses on his cheeks, then jaw which he's started to clench.

"N-No..." Kento sighs as he closes his eyes. "No way. I'm not ever tired for you." He lays you back on the pillows before rolling the condom on his cock. Then, he returns to kissing down your neck and chest until he gingerly lays his chin on your sternum, just below your breasts.

"I'll just go slow? And tell me if it hurts?"

You nod, doing your best to not tense up when you remember his size you have to contend with. But still, you craved him inside of you more than anything. If there was any cause worthy of getting your insides rearranged for, it would be by Kento, every single time.

"Just...uhm, look at me?" Kento orders sheepishly.

You smile, endeared that he's so eager to try and sit in the driver's seat for once.

"Okay." You look up at him, tenderness lining your pupils and the corners of your eyes soften as you look at Kento on top of you.

Kento smiles back down at you, balancing above you on his forearms, flexing a little bit in adorable display, all for you. You giggle, running your hands up and down his biceps which were surprisingly solid.

He always hid his figure underneath his baggy shorts and hoodies, and you can't help but feel so lucky again that he was being so vulnerable with you like this, electricity running in a steady thrum underneath your skin when you feel him start to ease his weight on top of you.

"You're so beautiful..." He murmurs the phrase like it's the only one he knows. Like he wasn't ever meant to speak unless the words were spent acknowledging the true depths of your beauty, lest it go completely wasted.

He kisses you softly again, daintily licking his tongue into your mouth, pumping his cock up and down. While doing so you feel him gently spread you open with one of his knees. He cradles your head, still keeping himself connected to your lips as he teases his cock in circles near your clit.

Kento didn't have experience, but he did watch plenty of porn. He has a pretty good idea of what he needs to do to make sure you're well warmed up. And ultimately for you, and he'd spend into next morning figuring it out if he needs to. 

He takes note when he feels you break away from the kiss to pant and press your head back a little further into his pillow, a sign that he's rubbing and stimulating you right where he needs to. He breathes softly, sweet breath tickling your face as his eyes gently flicker and roam over you, every sip of you he drinks threatening to be the drop too many that leaves him intoxicated. 

He uses the round squishy tip of his cock to press and rub your pussy, drawing circles and very barely dipping into your dripping entrance that was starting to build and leak a steady pool of juices. He lays his cock flat against your clit, watching his meaty shaft be hugged by both wet folds as it slides up, and down, the ribbed edges of the condom are even more pronounced with Kento's veins to give your puffy clit all the euphoric friction you need. 

"Kento..." You mewl out again, and he uses his kiss to swallow your cry before you can get too loud as he moves to guide himself inside you. 

Pure warmth with the wettest silk is all he knows as he slowly enters you for the first time. He's being absolutely gripped by you on all sides like an intoxicating vice, feeling you hug and squeeze and pulse with life around him.

"Baby...holy...fuck..." Kento breathes out, sucking in air through his teeth. He's practically delirious from this foreign feeling, fighting with every ounce of strength he has to continue going slow and not give into that primal itch that's aching to be scratched to fuck you senseless into the bed springs.

He thought the blowjob was heaven, however being inside of you was the hidden pot of honey where he realized he needed to be all this time. 

You feel his veins, his curve, the consistent way he throbs in response to every time you clench around him. The shaky and breathless effect you're having on him and hearing his gorgeous voice, soft and gentle in your ear is summoning and releasing butterflies in your belly that you never knew existed. However, you'd be lying if you said his size wasn't pushing you to your absolute limits. You're reminded on all fronts that you're full of him every time you move with every inch he feeds you, now about halfway inside. He is the most endowed man you've had sex with by far, and you whine softly from the stretch. 

When he hears your whimpers, he pulls out immediately and sits back on his knees, relieving you with his tongue. His flat, warm muscle laps up the nectar oozing underneath your clit and swirls in figure eights in every sensitive spot he can reach. He's hooked on the taste he left from being joined to you temporarily and presses his face into your dripping warmth, soaking his chin. 

You arch your back, toes curled, and he utterly groans, locking an arm around each thigh as he slowly drags his nose back and forth, bumping your clit in the process. 

----

Time has now slipped away, completely swallowed up by the wintry night and in every single secret, intimate, steamy, filthy, tender thing that's unraveled tonight in Kento's bed. 

By some miracle he's held on like a champion until you both are drenched in sweat, although it becomes clear he's at his limit, the condom practically sliding off with the surplus of sweat and precum you conjured up from him. You both heave with exhaust that's made it's way to the fogged windowsill in the confined space and all the time that's been whittled away in this passionate encounter. 

He's licked your warm cunt until an ocean is practically pouring out of you, he's sucked both your nipples into his mouth again to the point that they're most certainly branded with love marks and not just his spit. He's wiggled and curled those long fingers of his inside your silky pussy until you snapped like a rubber band at least twice. 

Now, he hovers above you again after putting on a fresh condom, harder than a rock and searing with ache. He kisses you and grunts when he feels you deepen it immediately, apparently eager to taste your nectar after it's been inside his mouth. Now, his cock glides into you, warm and snug, filling every inch perfectly like you two were separately divinely crafted to fit each other. 

"So good, Kento..." You reward him with that mellifluous way you rasp out his name, and he cradles your head in his hands as though you could break. 

And all you can do as you stare at one another, bodies fully engulfed as he gently rocks his hips, is hold each other close and walk that up that staircase to heaven together, years and years of knowing one another already behind you as the seamless foundation you can use as a bridge. 

Kento imagines this is as close to what married people must feel like on their honeymoon. As far as he's concerned in this moment, your pussy is the only pussy he'd like to fuck for the rest of his life. 

What would wasting even a precious second on someone else do for him? There's no need. The connection that burns between you right now has long exceeded anything physical, leaving carnality and greed long in the dust and burning in the surplus of time between you that you had already spent. 

Now, it's something profoundly emotional that all words fall short of conveying, but only in the gentle push and sway of your bodies moving and rippling like wild tides out at sea as one. It's especially meaningful as he hands over every bit of himself to you. The piece and part of his soul that was untouched, now forever claimed by you, and you only, none else. 

"I love you." He whispers and kisses you again, those eyes of sweetest honey amber.

"I love you so much..." He begins to move a little faster against you, his declaration leaving his body with searing passion in its wake. "I always have."

"I love you, Kento...with all my heart." You gasp and feel your jaw slacken, the coil in your lower belly tightening with impossible tension with each deafening thrust. He whines a little louder as his cock slips and squelches with silky obscenity.

"Fuck I...I have to...I'm sorry." He mumbles and kisses you hard, as he holds up your legs and folds them to your chest as he begins to thrust into you lewdly in mating press. 

"Kento!" 

You cry out his name and he swallows it again, taking care that whatever beautiful sound he can wring out of you stays in this heated space you built together, all for his eyes and ears only. His cock fills, stretches, and impossibly stokes at those leftover embers from all the previous fires he ignited inside you tonight. 

Now, you both move and grind with freedom, with sweetest absolution from straying past those lines of friendship you both ached and longed to shatter, set free from your cage with the tender profession of your mutual love. 

Your skin smacks and sticks, drenched and salty from resistance built from perspiration and arousal. The heat is almost uncomfortable, but it's all forgotten when you look at him and he gazes down at you with those eyes you have seared into your memory. Your pleasure and love is the very forefront of your brain that guides you down this road, a path you're not afraid of so long as he's the one next to you. 

"Gonna cum, I'm gonna....FUCK!" 

He yanks you into his mouth again, this time using your kiss as an echo chamber to stifle his sounds as he unloads himself. He shudders as the tension rolls off of him and settles into you like cascading dominoes. 

He whimpers quietly, still locked inside your kiss as he jerks sharply a few times for good measure despite the barrier of the condom catching all his cum, bringing his thumb back to your clit as he does so as though to demonstrate what he'd do exactly if the barrier were not in place. 

You fall off not long after, with a shiver and tremble that dies in a broken cry against his lips. 

"That was...." 

"Perfect." 

He releases all his weight onto you but it doesn't phase you one bit, his pressure and embrace a welcome respite as you weakly glide down from your peaks. After a moment when he collects his breath, he rolls onto his back next to you, keeping his fingers tangled with yours.  

"Y-yeah. To be honest I dunno if perfect comes close.." Kento closes his eyes as he feels sleep begin to rouse in his eyelids with the clearing haze.  

"More than perfect.....What's a word for that?" You smile, sleep beginning to tinge the sound of your voice as well. 

He lets out a huff, then chuckles. "I dunno, babe. You did kind of just reset my brain back there..." 

"We'll go with more than perfect, then. How about heaven?" 

He nods and exhales, but the smile that curves at his lips is undeniable in his tone. "That sounds about right to me." He turns to you. "You okay?" 

"I'm okay, I just." You look out at the window, briefly surveying the sights available to you in the present moment: the flurry of snowflakes in the window, the dip of the mattress where he lays next to you, the shadow of his eyes, the glow that raptures both of your skin. 

"Things aren't ever gonna be the same with us, are they?" 

"No, I guess not." He scoots closer to you, noses inches away. "But I'm okay with it. Are you?" 

"I'm more than okay." You whisper with sincerity. "As long as I have you." 

He smiles at your words, not getting over this welcome feeling of being needed by someone, especially you. "Course you do. I'm not letting you go after this." 

"I love you so much. Merry Christmas." 

"Merry Christmas. I love you more." 

And the sleep that befell you afterwards could not be more peaceful, wrapped up in the conclusion of your lovemaking and the blissful beginning of a new chapter between you. 

You shared sleepy laughs and infinite cuddles the next morning, huddled for warmth and tucked into one of his shirts as you talked over a morning cup of coffee before playing Mario again. You received an awkward note on his door with a noise complaint afterwards, which you giggled and hid your face in your hands, Kento's face a bright red. 

Needless to say, you got pretty creative over winter break with finding places to meet and burn off steam, from his place to yours, to the little motel on the edge of town, to the backseat of your shitty pickup truck with fogged windows in the snow. 

But one thing you could count on was each other. Love in the purest form of brown eyes waiting for you outside your class door, fingers coming to find their home in the spaces between yours as you walked hand in hand together. 

His clear commitment to you made all the outside attention cease when it was obvious he was happy in love with you, his best friend, solidified permanently in that playlist that never did leave his CD player since that night. 

It never made you wonder or second guess yourself again. You belonged together, it was as inevitable as the snowflakes that landed in his hair to the crinkle in your nose as he pulls you into his arms and kisses you again. 

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

Hey, you.

If you're American, and you've been having a hard week egg for.. reasons -

I have something to say to the Americans.

Just remember.

They aren't immortal.

Nobility has lied for centuries. They told us they were placed on the throne by God - the rule of the king being the will of the Creator.

The French proved them wrong.

You are young. They are human. They will one day die.

And on the day they die - regardless of if hell is real or not - there will be a movement when they are laying on that death bed. They will feel their live slipping from their grasp.

And they will feel the fear.

The possiblity of eternal consequence.

They will fear what waiting for them on the other side. The one journey they cannot buy their way out of. The moment the bell tolls for thee.

And honestly, the thought brings me peace.

Trumo and Elon AREN'T demons - though it's so easy to think of them as so.

They are evil humans. And all humans die. Trump? He's 80. He's over three times my age. He's older than my grandmother. He eats McDonald's and Diet Coke like no one's business. Knock on wood I'm betting he's got ten years TOPS.

('I'll be the last president' - my ass. If you take a bad fall it's game over dude. You won't release your health records cause you're most likely due for a heart attack soon mfer. Your minions don't like your candy ass Junior enough to have him as a successor and Baron doesn't fucking care so realistically speaking whats your game plan here? 🤨 Elon's kids have too many daddy issues to take your place. You can't even use a sword. Napoleon would slay you where you fucking stand you pansy)

So if you've been struggling this week, I just wanted to remind you.

Black people won our civil rights without the support from the media, without online social networks, without the support from 90% of white people.

70 years ago, around when my grandma was born - I could not sit next a white person in school. If a white man was walking towards me on the street, I'd have to step into the gutter and let him pass. At risk of being actually killed by the whole town if not.

Nowadays in my city I could tell a white guy my age 'Fuck you!!' to your face. Middle finger and all. And they're not gonna put me in jail for it. No stranger is gonna jump in. The whole town isn't gonna care. If anything, people will just record.

That all happened in ONE generation.

So no matter what Trump does.

Remember. He's not immortal. He will die like we all do.

You're young. You'll have the rest of your life to reverse everything he's done.

That's the thing about personality cults. Once the personality is removed, the whole thing falls apart. And the personality in question is once again - an 80 year old who eats Big Macs and wears suits two sizes too large. A man who would probably get genuinely upset if you asked him to recite his 8 times tables.

If Trump dies in the next 10-20 years, before he turns 100, I'll be 35-45. a.k.a - my generation will be entering the older majority. Our generation will be the eldest and the most influencial. What then?

The Trumpettes won't have their leader for their personality cult so they'll have no one - not even their republican parents - to tell them who to think.

We'll be older, wiser. We'll teach our kids the signs. We'll tell them stories what to do, and invest pubic funds to conserve the history of our fight - to never be erased.

If you're scared this week, I understand.

But remember. We've fought harder with less - and we still won.

So keep your head up. Doom is the tool of the enemy. You keep going, you keep living, and you survive to tear down their legacy while the bastard spins in his grave.

Keep going. Keep your angry hearts and clenched fists. Hold on tight to your love and rage. And keep going.

That's what Hobie would want. That's what a Hobie is there to teach us.

Hope this helped someone, anyone, even if it was a little bit. If this helps you get through the day, or the next hour, with the smallest bit of hope - that's all I want.

Thanks for reading this far! Here's Hobie :)

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

And bonus:

Ayo I just gotta add this in here -

Word to god, and when I say this I say this with my whole chest -

I'd be DAMNED before I ever say I'm scared of Donald Trump.

First of all, I'm black and poor. There's been a white man wanting me dead since the moment I left my Mama's hoohaa and guess what, I'm still here. That mfer ain't special. Call me when the klansmen come not when done mfers with tiki torches cosplay call of duty.

Cause none of them coming to the hood..tf.. Try that shit in neighborhood with Bloods and Crips.. Y'all not the only ones with automatics and lots of money. It's just the black people with money and automatics keep shit quiet. If these racist mfers had ppl breaking in they house the way Kendrick had mfers breaking in Drake's with choppers they'd be terrified as fuuuckkk

And secondly there's 4chan fellas out there that probably legit jack off to the idea of a black queer trans person crying in fear. And those mfers can kiss my black ass and kick rocks cause I wake up every day smiling. So -

Anyway I'm done lol

I just had to get this out of my system lol. OKAY BYE FOR REAL

[aokozaki]

He also hasn't apparently contested being found with a gun. People act like of course the cops planted a gun, why would a guy just be carrying a gun?

If Mr. Magnione is indeed the shooter, it's not hard to imagine "he couldn't think of a way to dispose of the gun" turning into "he kept it on his person" gelling with "if he was found he might have known he'd get arrested right away, so his manifesto thanks the feds for what they do and says he doesn't want to waste their time".

Or, maybe, anyway.

This is assuming a lot of hypotheticals. He is still only a suspect, innocent until proven guilty - and thankfully his family's well off so he's gotten a good lawyer.

The thing is though, people have turned ACAB into an excuse for assuming a massive conspiracy to arrest some guy on trumped up charges. Which like, wouldn't be shocking but that's also not proved either.

You ever notice how when the shooting first happened, and the shooter calmly shot the guy and then rode away on a bike and just fucking vanished, everyone's reaction was "what? that worked?"

But after a few days of myth-making, of seeing every little clue as proof that the unknown gunman was always one step ahead of the cops, when a man is arrested for pretty boring reasons, the reaction becomes "there's no way it's him, the shooter was too smart for this!"

Or maybe it's not that implausible, if Mr. Mangione does turn out to be the shooter (this is still just personal speculation here, it's not proven) that a man who's escape attempt was so slapdash as to provoke shock, also carried a manifesto that opens:

To the Feds, I'll keep this short, because I do respect what you do for our country. To save you a lengthy investigation, I state plainly that I wasn't working with anyone.

Was he expecting to be caught? That's just speculation and personal opinion. We don't know anything for sure yet.

It seems plausible he shot the guy, but objectively it's an understandable motive for murder, and also lmao? Terrorism charges?? Yeah they're not getting him with that even if he did do it.

But like, Jesus, drop the conspiracy theories. Saw some folks allege the manifesto must have been AI generated due to the somewhat surreal tone of opening up thanking the feds but like.

It's a handwritten note. That's very easy to google. The cops were fastidious enough in their frame-job to handwrite it, but hakcy enough to ask ChatGPT? What're you fucking talking about.

Honestly one of the main reasons to assume Luigi Mangione was framed by the NYPD is that the UHC shooter not only had no reason to carry around a manifesto, he had no reason to even write a manifesto. He said his piece loud and clear with the bullet casings and the monopoly money. Everyone understood it and the shooter knew that would be the case.

[fandomfuntimem]

I had. A thought.

Disclamer: I'm still pretty new to dc comics (note clue where to start), and the most i know is from shows and movies.

But like. Batman using his dad skills (you can pry Bruce being a good dad from my cold, dead hands) to help young members of the Justice League.

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

Shazam, AKA Billy Batson, is 12 years old. He's young.

Imagine him showing up to the watch tower in his child form, super eepy, and all the adult heros who don't have kids are just hounding him about being in his child form (note: no clue who would do this. But from what i've seen, there are a few members who would). as well as giving him reports to fill out, meetings to go to, and in general just bothering and babying him.

He gets so overwhelmed and overstimulated. He just curls up on the floor and starts sobbing. No one knows how to handle it. They'd ask Superman since he's a father of two, but he's not at the tower.

Then enters Batman. Everyone is scare. What's he gonna say? How will he handle this? He looks down at Billy and his face just softens. He shoves everyone away, shooing them and telling them to back off. Gently, he drapes his cape over the sobbing child.

He starts talking to Billy in the softest voice.

"Whats wrong Billy? What happened?"

"I-its just- i-i-im so tired, a-a-and everyone's talking, and y-yelling. It's all so loooud!"

Batman just hums, "do you want to take a nap in my office? It's quiet there, and I have a pull out couch."

Billy just nods, and ever so gently Batman picks him up and cradles him. Carrying him to his office and glaring at the other adults.

Later, when asked where he learned to do that, he just says, "i have seven kids, and more kids who are practicly mine. I know an over tired and overwhelmed child when I see on."