#there will be nothing better than it is now

[sc0tters]

Loved You Forever | Luke Hughes

summary: four times you and luke knew you both wanted more, the one time a move was made, and the one time you both actually remembered it.

request: yes/no

warnings: underaged drinking (if you're american), minimal swearing.

word count: 6.16k

authors note: happy February loves! I realised that this might have been a better valentines day piece but too late? I am actually in love with this piece though and it was seriosuly so much fun to do another 5+1 thing and I'm pretty sure that this is my first proper attempt at it. I am nothing but a slut for best friends to lovers with Luke! After the loss tonight I think we all deserved something sweet so I also think this might be one of my first attempts at tooth rooting of sweet?

Luke had been in your life for as long as you could have remembered. 

The two of you met during a day at the park, you had been desperate to be on the seesaw but as your siblings got caught up with Jack and Quinn it left you alone, sat on the one side all by yourself “can I join?” Luke asked pointing at the seat that was in the air. 

A grin spread across your face “you wanna sit with me?” You asked almost not believing him “yeah you seem sad.” It seemed that it was all it took for your friendship to be formed. 

Hours were spend on that seesaw over the autumn months as you got to know him. You were no longer the sad lonely girl to him, now you were the fun and chatty one who had a dog. 

𝟏

You had been a bundle of nerves the entire week. 

In the week leading up to prom your dress was in need of alterations and your date had decided that going with the captain of the cheer team was far better suited to his taste than you. Your curling iron had also decided the morning of prom that it was going to stop working.

So while you felt like the world was against you, Luke decided to step him. He had gotten Ellen to drop off a brand new one courtesy of him of course, with a note saying that he couldn’t want to see you that night. 

The moment that he learnt about you no longer having a date he changed his own plans, well first he actually did a happy dance because now you were single which he appreciated. But then he told the hockey boys that he was breaking from the pact of going as a group. At first they all gave him stick, but when they learnt it was for you they understood. 

Because even if you were totally off limits and so clearly Luke’s girl, they all had eyes as a hormonal teen boy. And you were a total package. 

So that was how Luke ended up on what was a date but didn’t feel like it because he felt like your second choice, even if he had never been the one to ask you in the first place. Gosh he had seen all of the cringey proposals online but he knew you would have loved one of those. Something to laugh about afterwards that could be cherished as a memory forever.

Jim placed his hand on Luke’s shoulder pulling him out of this thoughts “you okay bud?” He asked cocking his head as he furrowed his eyebrows “I’m good.” Luke nodded “just worried about the time.” It was a lie but it was enough to take the attention off of him and his thoughts.

Your mom looked at her watch “y/n are you coming down anytime soon!” She called up the stairs fearing that you’d end up late and miss the limo that your friends had arranged after pictures. 

You turned down your music as you rolled your eyes. In your opinion you weren’t late, just pulling everything out of your drawers because you couldn’t find the perfect earrings to go with your dress “yeah, yeah I’ll be down there!” You yelled back focusing on what you were doing. 

Luke stood between his parents and yours “sorry about her.” Your mom apologised as she softly shook her head, knowing that this was how you were “it’s okay I mean she’s.” Luke was lucky he was cut off because it meant that he didn’t have to come up with an end to his statement. 

“I’m ready!” Your words traveled down to the group causing all of their heads to turn to your bedroom door. You were right by the top of the staircase so there wasn’t much of a walk for you before your dress was revealed in all its glory “wow.” Luke thought he had said it softly enough for nobody to hear. But the smile on Jim’s face said it all, he knew his son was in love as he watched you twirl all excited for him to finally see the dress.

The red dress hugged every part of your body that you wanted it to. And now with the alterations your slit showed the right amount of leg, it was enough to look hot but not enough to the point where the dress wouldn’t have been appropriate for a high school prom.

Luke felt his throat grow dry seeing you at the top of the stairs, with a smile painted on your face. You looked gorgeous, in every sense of the word as you radiated this glow that encapsulated your body. 

His hands grew sweaty, gripping at your corsages packaging. Watching you walk down the stairs, the sounds of your mom in awe with your dad taking pictures turned to background noise. Luke couldn’t understand how you were panicking about your hairstyle to him at lunch all week, because it seemed like it was made for you. 

You stopped on the final step holding your hand out to Luke, enjoying the moment of him in his navy blue suit. It was easy to see that he had just had his hair cut, but you weren’t going to make a comment about it as you appreciated the effort. 

Sure you wouldn’t have cared if Luke showed up in jeans and his crocs, but he knew how important the night was to you so he made it important to him. His hand was soft against yours as he helped you down the final step “you look-” he cut himself off, opting to take the chance to bask in your beauty once more. 

It made you rub your lips together nodding in agreement “you too.” The sight made Ellen place her hand on her heart. Her youngest son here stood tall and all cleaned up, in front of the girl that his parents wished he’d date. 

Luke let out a soft gasp remembering that he was still holding your corsage “this is yours.” He scratched the back of his neck nervously, hoping you’d like it “it’s so pretty Lukey.” You held the plastic container in your hands pulling out the pink arrangement. 

You handed it back to him “put it on f’me will ya?” You asked watching him nod “sure.” He obliged your request seeing how pretty it looked with your manicured nails. 

Your eyes shone looking at it “it’s perfect.” You confessed leaning up to kiss his cheeks “thanks, Lukey.” You gave his arms a squeeze before you settled back in front of him. 

He prayed his cheeks didn’t betray him as they felt warm “anytime.” Luke honestly would have done anything to bring that smile out and for you to kiss his cheeks again. Even as he hoped he’d be lucky to kiss you properly one day, he prayed that this wasn’t the last time he’d get to feel one of your kisses. 

𝟐

Your high school graduation was not what you expected it to be. Sure you expected to be a little emotional leaving the place that had helped shape you into the person you were set to become. It was the place where Luke cemented his life long place as your best friend. 

You held your diploma in your hand as you searched through the crowd for him “y/n!” Luke cheered causing you to whip around. 

His smile matched yours as you let out a squeal before you ran into his arms. You almost knocked him over as you laughed “someone’s excited ‘eh?” He let out a soft laugh settling you back on your feet. 

He had spent a portion of his afternoon wishing he told you how pretty you looked “I mean how can I not be we have like properly graduated.” If you looked back at the memory now you would have laughed, you felt so prepared for the big world when in actuality you were still so young with so much more growing to do. 

Luke smiled “I mean we always knew you were going to.” Brains had always been your thing, much more than Lukes at least.

You looked at the athletics band around his shoulders “and you got this.” You toyed with the ends of it in your hands “I think we both should be proud today.” You had succeeded in your own fields, reminding each other why you did so well as friends because you were so different.

Luke could see that something else was on your mind “what is it?” He asked, seeing that there was a glimmer of excitement like you were trying to hold back a bomb of importance. You felt like a child who had been trying their best to hold off on telling the secret they promised their parents that they would keep to themselves. 

You pulled the grad cap off of your head as you took in a deep breath “remember how I told you that I wasn’t sure where I was going because of those scholarship applications?” You were the more academically inclined out of the two of you, to the extent that you did have a good chance to get some scholarships. 

This was why you hadn’t decided where exactly you were going, so Luke hadn’t been told of any of the places that had accepted you. This was the first and last time that you were ever going to be holding a secret from him, the last few weeks felt like your very own definition of torture “so you remember how we applied to some of the same schools?” You asked, reminding him that three schools appeared on both of your lists. 

He nodded, raising his eyebrows and urging you to continue, “well one of those schools was UMich, and I got in.” Luke let out a gasp, knowing exactly where this conversation was about to go “yes?” He urged you to carry on so he didn’t celebrate prematurely. 

You rubbed your lips together “well how do you feel about getting an apartment roomie?” It had been a conversation since you were both eight years old, if you went to uni together, then you were going to be roommates to some degree. 

Luke finally allowed himself to cheer as he pulled you into a hug. He spun you around as he let himself celebrate the news “I can’t believe that we are staying together.” He was honestly in shock as he finally placed you back on the ground. 

In the distance stood your mom and Ellen, who watched the interaction unfold in front of them “I wonder if this is what they need to take a step forward.” Everyone but the two of you knew about the undeniable feelings between you both. They knew it was asking for a lot, though, because you two had been around each other for so long that maybe it just wasn’t meant to be and maybe that was okay. 

Ellen smiled as she watched Luke grab your hand before he pulled you into a group of people “I think that maybe they are only going to be friends.” She let out a sigh as the words left her lips. Boy did she hope that the two of you proved her wrong.

𝟑

Luke had yet to come down from the high that was being drafted to the same team as Jack. He was absolutely ecstatic and having you there too was the perfect moment for him. His family had all come along and they mixed with his friends, every one of his supporters were in that room. 

He almost got emotional when he thought about it because none of you had to come, not to the bar afterwards and not to the draft itself either. But when his name was called by the New Jersey Devils Luke just remembered pulling you into this hug as Jack hit his back in excitement.

You were his absolute best friend and world so it was never a surprise that Luke hugged you first but still fans had been going on about how Luke basically blanked his future teammate at first. People who followed Luke’s days at Michigan knew who you were, if someone listened to Luke talk for long enough you were brought up in a conversation. And it wasn’t that it was weird for him but it was because you did everything with him so away from the ice, you were attached to every memory.

But for the people who hadn’t paid attention, you were the mystery girlfriend in their eyes. So you were also now the new target of everyone’s Instagram searches. Their comments to you saying they wished they were Luke’s girlfriend made you laugh, because you felt the same way. His name had been circled with hearts in the corners of your notebook pages. They were left in the math and English books because you knew that was where Luke would never have looked.

Luke would never have admitted it aloud but he knew whenever you weren’t in a room. The sound of your laugh burning at his ears, how you seemed to radiate this sense of light and warmth that could be felt through the room. He had been caught up in a conversation with his parents friends when he had lost that feeling. 

It was clear to them that Luke had his mind somewhere else, or well they knew it was with someone else so they let him go. You were nowhere to be seen as his eyes scanned the crowded bar “she’s out front I think Lukey!” Jack slurred his words clearly drunk but still knowing all too predictable his younger brother was. 

Luke felt his cheeks grow warm as his eyes went wide “relax dude, just go to her.” Jack laughed as he rolled his eyes, not caring about it before he went off again. 

He tried to make it subtle to anyone who watched but Luke headed straight for the door where he of course found you. You were still in his devils cap as he put it on you when he finished his media interviews. An awful attempt at a joke was made when he said that you could be a player now too.

It looked so good on you as he smiled “there you are.” It was like a weight off of his shoulders when he found you. 

You were in your own little world before you looked at him “shouldn’t you be inside?” You asked as you cocked your head “this is a party for you after all.” Luke rolled his eyes, turning the cap around so that he could see your face not covered by the lid of the cap. 

He leaned against the wall next to you “I wanted to be with you though.” You blushed at the words, your hand reached for his “I just wanted a bit of air is all.” You explained putting his mind at ease as he had worried that you were overwhelmed. 

You licked your lips “I’m proud of you tonight.” The confession made his ears ring as his head felt fuzzy “all I did was get drafted.” Luke always was one to downplay his achievements, but you never let him succeed.

A laugh escaped from you lips “Lukey you were drafted fourth and to your brothers team.” You reminded him in a duh tone “you’re actually gonna be an NHL player now.” It had been his dream for as long as he could speak, from the moment you turned seven it even had a space on your vision board cementing itself in the right hand corner. That’s how much you knew he was getting into the big leagues.

Luke looked up at the night sky before he let out a sigh “god everything is going to change isn’t it?” He chewed at the inside of his cheek feeling your eyes piercing into his soul.

The words echoed in your ears as you pushed off of the wall before you stood in front of him. Things didn’t need to change, in fact you didn’t want them to. 

You smiled as you held your pinky out to him “what is this?” He asked mimicking your movements “a promise that I will always be with you.” Your voice was sweet as you nodded. 

Luke knew he was wrong but part of him thought about how beautiful you looked in the light, how kissable your lips looked too “forever and ever?” Luke cocked his head letting a grin spread across his lips. 

Your heart throbbed at the thought, you wanted Luke around for all that time and more “forever and ever.” You agreed locking your pinky into his before you both kissed your thumbs. 

The gesture seemed small but it was something that you both could agree on. For you and Luke, it meant that the promise was written in the stars as if you had written it on sand. With every passing wave that came in with the tide, the message still stood. 

𝟒

Luke hated the fact that he was leaving soon. He knew that his time with you at university was always going to have an expiration date, but he never thought it was going to come so soon. 

You two spent all of your life together, often moving within six months of the other. So now if he really was leaving you then it felt like this was the last time. 

Your paths had always been one of the same, with both of you never straying far away from the other. Luke had gotten so used to you being around that the only person who he was worried about leaving was you. 

Life had always been the y/n and Luke party that he didn’t know how you were going to react if he left you “what’s going on in that mind of yours?” You asked finding him sat by himself. 

He smiled seeing you stumble in his direction “I am just thinking.” He confessed watching you sit on his lap, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. 

A giggle escaped from your lips “ain’t that dangerous.” Those words made him scoff as his eyebrows furrowed. 

You seemed so care free in that moment, it made him envy you. How did it all seem so easy for you as he felt like his head was barely above water, drowning with worry “I am kidding.” You rubbed his cheek against your thumb “what are you thinking about?” You asked urging him to let you into his thoughts. 

Your hand squeezed his cheek reminding him that you were there for him “what if I don’t make the right call going.” Luke felt that a weight was lifted off of his shoulders letting that confession slip “I think that the universe is going to put you in the best position for you long term.” You truly believed that everything happened for a reason, so if the agent did come and ask Luke to join the devils like you knew they would, then it was the right thing for him.

It seemed that you always knew what to say to him “and what do you think I should do-” Luke hugged you not taking a chance to let him finish “you are going.” You stopped him from trying to hug you. 

He raised his eyebrows “I am?” Your tone made him think you were going to be forcing him onto that plane if you had to. 

Luke ran his fingers through your hair “y’know I’m happy that you’re going.” Your confession made him furrow his eyebrows “you are?” He cocked his head as he had of course told you all about the possibility of being signed the moment he learnt the agents were coming to Florida. 

You nodded sending him a smile “I mean this had been your dream like forever and Jack will be happy to have you there.” Your explanation calmed his heart, practically brushing the worries from his mind “and how do you feel about it?” The two of you were feeling a little more open tonight as you had a bit too much vodka sprite in your system to think clearly. 

A sigh escaped your lips “honestly I’m gonna miss you.” It was the first time you actually admitted that “but it makes me so happy that you get to live out your dream.” Your hand ran along his shoulder. 

A smile formed on his face “I love you.” He blurted out unaware of the ramifications it could have had “I love you too.” You mumbled kissing his cheek. 

Luke frowned knowing that you didn’t acknowledge what he meant, he was in love with you. 

𝟓

Christmas with the Hughes family was something that you had always loved. It seemed to be a family tradition for you too as you always seemed to crack a nod to the event. 

Selfishly you loved that it was in Michigan, the short drive from campus meant that it was where you spent the first half of your Christmas break. Your parents came down to them and then brought you back home afterwards and it was the perfect little routine. 

This Christmas felt particularly refreshing as you had missed Luke, it was the first Christmas since he made the move to New Jersey and it meant that you two were forced to pack everything into the days he had off. Years of perfectly crafted Christmas traditions forced into three days that you usually put into two weeks. 

The days felt jam packed not that you or Luke cared, the only time you weren’t with each other was when you went to the bathroom. Nights he had home were spent talking to you until the sun played peek a boo in the curtains. 

Christmas night was by far your favourite highlight though, matching sweaters with Luke and eating so much that you were in a food coma. But this year something felt different, you couldn’t put your finger on it and part of you didn’t want to acknowledge it. 

You were never one to push out of your comforts and you just assumed that Luke would share the details of his life if he wanted to “will you excuse me for just a sec?” You asked cutting off one of Quinn’s old friends as you saw Luke heading up the stairs. 

The boy shot you a smile and motioned to you to go. Nobody ever needed to look hard into the relationship, you looked at Luke like he was the man who made the moon and the stars that sprinkled around the universe. It may not have been the case but he was the light of your universe and the stars of your eyes. 

Jack and Quinn couldn’t help but watch, softly elbowing each other as they knew it was only you and Luke up there “think they’re finally gonna do it?” Jack asked sipping at the eggnog from his cup. 

Quinn pursed his lips together “I think it’s been a little too long for that.” The captain craved to be proven wrong, this was probably the first and the last time he touch of that really.

You saw Luke on his phone “hey,” your voice was soft wanting to check up on him “oh hi.” Luke smiled turning around to see you. 

His phone got tucked into his back pocket “thought you were going to still be downstairs.” He added, having had watched you talk away with that boy most of the recent hour. 

But you shook your head “I wanted to check on up on you.” The act was something meant to be innocent, like it always was. Because you cared for him, this was the what you were meant to do, and what you had always done.

It made him smile “look if you want a quiet day tom-” you were almost immediately cut off “I actually just want to spend time with you alone.” Luke explained making your heart feel so full. 

You loved the way that he had with words even if you envied him, it made it so much easier falling in love with him “so you wanna stay up here for a bit?” The request made you nod, taking his hand with a squeeze as the two of you took the three step walk to his room.

His door opened letting the mistletoe drop from the frame that was only seen when the lights turned on, causing your eyes to go wide “shit.” Luke grumbled as it sat between the two of you. It was like a sign from the universe, begging for one of you to put it out of its misery. 

The mistletoe stood above the two of you, shining like it was sent from the gods to put you both out of your misery “we don’t have to.” Luke felt his jaw go slack, not wanting to make you uncomfortable as you stared up at the leaf fixture “Jack thought it was funny to put it there.” He added remembering how he was actually planning on removing it the night before. 

Oh how different that night would have turned out if he had. 

A dry laugh left your lips “who are we to go against an age old tradition?” You asked letting your eyes lock onto his “are you sure?” Luke studied how plump your lips were and god he just wanted to kiss them. 

You ran your fingers over the knitted fabric that was your Christmas sweater “I feel like I should be asking you that?” You shot back slightly raising your eyebrows as you felt that he was trying to tell you something in a softer way. 

Oh god no, he thought to himself shaking his head “I do wanna kiss you!” The panic escaped in his voice, doing little to help his nerves as his heart and mouth betrayed his brain “but only if you want to kiss me too.” The boy straightened his shirt with a cough attempting to block the embarrassment that  came over his cheeks. 

You smiled with a nod “I wanna kiss you Lukey.” Your head buzzed as you drunk one too many vodka cranberries that night.

His hand cupped your cheek as he nodded “and we agree that this won’t make anything awkward right?” His words made you roll your eyes. Sure you knew he was being cautious and you should have appreciated how much he cared for your feelings, but god you just wanted to kiss him.

So that’s what you did, you wrapped your arms around his neck so that you could bring him down to you. The move took the boy by surprise as he steadied himself placing his other hand on your hip. His lips were rough against yours, reminding you that you needed to buy him a chapstick he’d actually like. 

Luke always knew that your lips were going to taste good, but he never could have predicted that you could have taste that sweet. It caused this buzzing sense in his head that only stopped when you pulled away just as the sound of footsteps came from the stairs “oh good mom you found it!” Quinn called out going back downstairs. 

You drank in the sight of Luke, your lip gloss shone on his lips as he fiddled with his hair “I guess we should go back down?” Luke asked with a shrug as you nodded “maybe just-” you brought your thumb to his lip. Brushing your finger against his lip to collect the product from his lips “there.” You took a step back with a smile seeing that there was now no evidence of the fact that you had kissed him. 

The only issue with this kiss was that neither one of you would remember it. Well you both it, but because it was what you had longed for, it felt like a dream. And with the fear of rejection creeping up your neck like an uncontrollable rash, it was best to keep it all to yourselves. 

Because after all how does one ask someone if they really did kiss last night?

+𝟏

The crackling noises of the burning wood echoed in your ears as you stared at the campfire “you should talk to her.” Quinn’s voice was soft, somehow still startling Luke who stood by the cooler. 

His hand gripped at the new beer can “why would I do that?” Luke asked, adjusting his gaze to make out that he wasn’t looking at you “are we seriously going to do this again?” Quinn couldn’t help but let out a laugh. 

He had spent what felt like Luke’s whole life watching the both of you dance around your feelings. Luke’s lips turned upright into a smile at the sound of your laughter, which made his heart bloom with joy, but that was short-lived when he saw Jack being the cause of what you found so funny. 

Luke’s lips were quickly forced into a thin line as his hand tightened around his drink “Luke, Jack is the last guy that she would ever go for.” Quinn reminded his brother, placing his hand on his taller brothers back. 

It made the Devils player furrow his eyebrows “you don’t know that.” Everyone in fact knew that, Jack was the kind of man that you would have ended up killing if you had to live with him for the rest of your life. Hell even Luke knew it, but he was willing to forget about the logic. He never seemed ready to acknowledge that there was a chance you could like him back.

A whine escaped your lips “y’know lying is just mean right?” You sunk back into your chair “yeah well I ain’t lying.” Jack shot back rolling his eyes. 

You clearly didn’t believe the boy as your arms crossed “fine look at them right now and if he isn’t then I will shut up.” Jack clasped his hands together as if a lightbulb had turned on above him. You sighed sending him a nod as you turned your body back to the porch, allowing your eyes to scan the area for Luke. The boy cut himself off in the conversation with Quinn when your eyes locked with his “this means nothing.” You mumbled still in denial. 

It honestly should have been so obvious to you both, I mean everyone around you both noticed but the two of you.

The night carried on with you trying to ignore Jacks comments as Luke did the same. Cole let out a yawn as he blinked “I think it is time for bed.” He announced placing his hands in his thighs as he got up watching a few of the guys agree with him.

As the last two besides for you and Luke, Quinn patted Jacks shoulders “why don’t we head up to bed too?” He asked, barely giving his younger brother a chance to say no. Jack was pulled up as he sent you both a salute “don’t stay up too la-” his tease was cut off when Quinn slapped his hand over Jacks mouth. 

Luke watched Quinn and Jack walk back into the house before he turned back to see you smiling at him “what?” Luke asked pushing his curls out of his eyes. 

He worried that he had something on his face “why don’t you come sit with me?” You offered, patting the camping chair next to you. It felt weird having him sat on what felt like the other side of the fire, he was way too far away from you for your own liking “do I have to?” Luke let out this dramatic sigh letting you know he was messing with you as he got up. 

It was nice just being alone with him away from just your bedroom. Since he moved to New Jersey you really did appreciate the one on one time that you got with him “I’m glad you came this year.” Luke confessed finally taking his place in the chair next to you. 

You rested your head against the back of your chair “I’ll always come for you.” Your hand reached for his wanting to reassure him “unfortunately for you the return policy on this friendship is long expired so you’re like really stuck with me.” You spoke in a serious tone that made him laugh. 

Luke squeezed your hand “darn I was just figuring out how to write my reason for returning ya.” You reached out to hit him “and what was that going to be?” You cocked your head running your tongue along your teeth as you smirked. 

He felt his heart pound sitting closer to you “don’t think it makes a lot of sense yet.” Luke shook his head, not having an actual answer for you. 

The crackle of the fire served as the perfect background noise “well you’ve got to speak now or else you might really be stuck with me.” You pointed out sticking your tongue out at him making the boy grin as he shook his head. 

Truthfully he was never going to return you, hell it was going to have to be you returning him if anything. Even then he was not going to leave you without a fight to stay.

Luke ran his fingers along your jaw “I think coming to Jersey would be good for you.” He knew it was one of your options for what you’d do after you graduated “oh god are we gonna be those friends who end up living next to each other and raise their kids together?” You laughed opting to cover the nerves that coarsed through your veins. 

It made the boy shake his head “can I tell you something?” He asked sucking at his teeth “you know you can tell me anything.” You nodded ignoring how close your face was to his. 

Luke could hear Jack and Quinn in his mind screaming at him to finally stop being such a baby and just tell you how he felt “and it can’t change our friendship.” You now grew worried at words “you’re scaring me.” That was also what Luke didn’t want. 

So before he dug himself into a hole he just decided to jump off of the decision cliff he was on “I like you.” The words escaped from his lips “so when you talk about us living next to each other with our families it’s not nice.” He shook his head watching you listen.

But he didn’t stop there “and it kills me that you don’t feel the same-””you think I don’t like you?” You asked letting out a laugh as he nodded. 

You threw your head back shaking your head “oh god Luke I’m mad about you.” The words were meant to be innocent but they lit a fire under his ass “but then why do you talk about us raising separate families together?” Luke scoffed almost thinking that this was a dream and you were joking. 

But still it was your turn to explain to him “I thought that it was all I’d get.” You shrugged feeling your cheeks grow warm. 

Under the moonlight as the fire illuminated your face, you looked beautiful “can I kiss you?” The question was something you had wanted to hear for such a long time now “yeah.” You nodded with a grin dropping your head as he cupped your cheek so that you could kiss him. 

The kiss had you swearing that fireworks should have been going off around you guys. The boy was sweet letting the taste of whatever lipgloss you wore make him feel drunk. Was it vanilla? Or maybe even cherry? Well he didn’t really care, it taste good and he was getting to kiss you.

Jack and Quinn stood in the kitchen watching with smiles on their faces “who would have thought that it would take them this long to finally get together?” He laughed shaking his head “I am just glad that we don’t have to put up with another summer of these two and their puppy dog glances.” Quinn shuddered at the thought, mentally cringing at the idea of having to listen to Luke psych himself out of telling you how he felt. 

But what both boys forgot, was that when you have been in love with someone for so long, when you finally get them you enjoy it “oh god.” Jack slapped his hand over his mouth watching Luke pull you onto his lap. 

His hands cupped your ass, deepening the kiss as you were addictive to Luke “and just like that it got weird.” Quinn announced listening to Jack agree as they shut the blind of the kitchen window, opting to finally give you both some privacy. 

[tarotsoul]

ghost in the wind — part five

summary: harnessing your power is growing easier by the day, and madja finds out some interesting things about witches souls.

warnings: swearing, mentions of torture, kissing, teasing, fingering, handjob, oral (female receiving—all of this is somewhat public), mentions of death

word count: 6.4k

series masterlist

Cassian struggled against the vines that wrapped tight across his midriff, his muscles flexing with power but nothing shifted as they tightened with his every move. His golden skin was coated in a thin sheen of sweat, his shoulder-length hair damp with excursion. 

You were no better. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, your skin flushed as your knees began to buckle. Hold it. Rhysand’s voice had continued to purr into your mind throughout the session, guiding and commanding every step of the way. He worked you from sunrise to breakfast, then again from dusk until nightfall. 

It had been your routine for the past two weeks, and with every session, your power and control grew stronger. You could now detain a being with nothing but your mind, could bound and gag with vines and soil. This session, however, was different. Because it wasn’t just vines that wrapped across Cassian’s arms and legs and torso. 

This time, the vines had thorns. And they pierced his skin deeper with every movement he made. 

It had taken an additional two weeks to get to this point. Two weeks of introducing the Inner Circle to your magic, of slowly allowing them past the protective walls your abilities offered. You no longer had to keep your distance from your friends and family. It appeared the only time your magic attacked on its own was when you were startled or afraid. 

You’d been at it for sixty minutes already, your brows dotted with sweat. Rhysand continued to slowly pace the training ring atop the House of Wind. Feyre stood off to the side, a towel in one hand and a glass of water in the other. Nesta watched from beside her, arms crossed against her generous chest as she squinted at the way her mate seethed in discomfort. 

So far, Cassian had not been able to break free from your bindings, nor had he been able to move a single muscle more than an itch. And Rhysand was more than impressed. 

“Good,” he complimented, a noticeably proud smile on his face. At that, you slowly released your power and took a heaving breath of relief. The vines lazily slithered from Cassian’s body, the thorns leaving scratches in their wake that healed almost immediately.

“You’re presenting incredible control. Tomorrow, I’d like for you to make those thorns bigger. And by next week, I’d like to see if you can implement a slow releasing toxin or poison.”

Cassian widened his eyes at his High Lord. “I’m not volunteering for that.”

A smile found your lips as you took a few breaths to settle your lungs again. You had never expected training to be this rewarding. Rhysand was nothing but attentive to your powers and how they worked. He made sure you felt comfortable with everything you tried and he never once tried to push you beyond your limits. 

When you expressed you first wished to harness your power in a defensive way, he was more than happy to oblige. He agreed that perhaps it would be the best way to learn control, and then you could go down the route of healing, learning how to harness it for remediation, too.

And Cassian… well you were unsure if you would ever be able to thank Cassian for the trust he had for you. To allow your wild magic to bind and hurt him, not knowing if you could reign it back if it got too much. 

Rhysand chuckled at his brother. “We’ll work something out.” 

If it were Rhys, he’d practice on one of Azriel’s prisoners—draw out their pain and suffering with toxins and thorns. It would make a great interrogation tactic. But it wasn’t him. It was you. And Rhysand was not prepared to present that situation or idea to you. Not unless you came to him and it was exclusively your suggestion. 

For now, he would figure out another way. 

And Elain had told him as much before she and Lucien left just a week ago, claiming she had to reason to remain. You were safe, you would learn control. And she would visit after her and Lucien’s travels.

Feyre approached with a glass of water, handing it to you and dabbing your damp skin with the towel. From his seat across from you, Cassian gawked and scoffed playfully. “I didn’t realise Y/N was the one to be bound and pricked for an hour.” 

Nesta rolled her eyes. “Illyrian baby. As if you haven’t endured worse.” 

Despite the chuckle leaving your lips, you still offered him the rest of your water, which he happily took with a cheeky wink. You returned the sentiment with a half-smile, your body still struggling to recover from the energy the session took from you.

As much as you were enjoying it—honing your power and taking control—you couldn’t help but yearn for more. You understood the strength of your mothers magic was enhanced by your fathers Fae heritage, and you had been practicing winnowing with Mor whenever she had the time to spare…but your mother…

“I’d like to learn more about witchcraft.” 

All eyes turned to you, some wide, some weary. You cleared your throat, shifted your weight from one foot to another. “As thankful as I am for this—and as much as I am enjoying it—I’d like to learn the other side, too. Rituals, spells…”

No one spoke. You met Rhysand’s eyes and something akin to regret was lit. Your shoulders slacked at the sight. “None of us are exactly versed in witchcraft. And it has been a long while since I’ve met a witch who doesn’t feel inclined to eat me.” 

An attempt at a joke, you understood, but it did not relieve any of your disappointment. Three weeks ago, Madja had confirmed that out of all of your cousins, Elain was the only one to share similar markers in her hair and blood as you. Markers of wiccan ancestry. Rhysand had been the one to suggest Elain’s presence and similar magic may have been what awoke you. 

It had been known that when she was tossed into that Cauldron, it took something from her. Through Madja’s research, she was led to believe it had taken that power and replaced it with her Fae abilities—keeping that nature element but changing its course completely. 

Which meant you were alone. With barely any clue where your ancestry stemmed from, it was useless to even ask. But your mother had been a healing earth witch, that much you were certain of. Surely there had to be books somewhere, even if just to intrigue you until Madja concluded the rest of her research.  

“Gwyn may be able to help,” Nesta spoke. 

You turned to her. Yes, you’d heard of the young priestess, a fellow Valkyrie of Nesta’s. Your cousin had told you much about her position in the library within the House. Yet that was as far as your knowledge on her went. 

Still, it awoke that small shred of hope within you. Hope that one day you could feel close to your mother again. 

Azriel took a sip of his tea, lounging back at the dining table as he watched Cassian shovel heaps of eggs and bacon into his mouth. The shadowsinger couldn’t help but quirk a brow at his brother. Cassian had always eaten like a starved male, but this… Azriel was certain it had been minutes since he stopped to take a breath. 

“It’s not going anywhere,” Azriel quipped above the rim of his mug but Cassian did not slow. He chewed as his gaze met his brothers and spoke through a mouthful of his breakfast. “You let Y/N bind you with her vines and prick thorns into your skin for a solid hour, then you can comment on my eating habits.” 

A smirk kissed at the corners of Azriel’s lips at the thought. He would be more than willing to allow his body to you for practice. Though he wasn’t sure he’d want an audience. Especially not with how his scent was already beginning to shift at the thought alone. 

Gods, after four weeks of tasting you and touching you, he should have his hormones under control by now. But he was no better than any other Illyrian brute. He was starved for you all hours of the day—completely insatiable. He had never experienced such hunger before. It was completely overpowering. 

The sound of Cassian’s plate sliding across the table broke him from the sinful thoughts, and he looked at his brother who now seethed. “Really, Az? While I’m eating my breakfast?” 

Azriel’s smirk faded as his brows rose, taking a sip of his tea. “Are you forgetting about the time Nesta was choking on your cock, right before I was about to eat my dinner?” 

Heat rushed to the apples of Cassian’s cheeks, not from embarrassment, but from the thought of his brother seeing his mate in such a compromising position. And not because he did not trust Azriel, but because he knew that at one point, Nesta had considered the shadowsinger for herself. 

The general cleared his throat and shifted, attempting to reign in that mated protectiveness. “What’s the deal with you and Y/N anyways?”

Azriel took another sip of his tea. “What do you mean?” 

Cassian scoffed. Azriel always did that. Played dumb or completely ignored any conversation when it came to his love life or bedroom habits. “I hear you both, going into each other's rooms at night,” Cassian admitted, “you’re not sneaky.”

Azriel hid his smirk behind his mug. “Not trying to be.” 

The general's eyes squinted. He was used to his brother deflecting, ignoring. He was not used to him being so truthful and open, despite him only saying four words in response, Azriel did not deny his involvement with you. 

“You like her?” 

Azriel remained quiet, watching Cassian with a blank expression. 

“She’s been through a lot,” Cassian probed, noting the way Az’s grip on the mug tightened. 

“I know,” he got out. 

“And this is all pretty new to her… I imagine it's very overwhelming, too.” 

Azriel narrowed his eyes. “What are you getting at?” 

Cassian shrugged, slouching back in his chair as he crossed thick arms over his muscular chest. “Nothing. She’s grown a lot since coming here, and she’s growing more every day. I wouldn’t want her to feel like she’s just a secret to you.” 

Raw pain sliced through Azriel’s chest at his words. He knew you did not feel that way, knew you were always so open and honest and comfortable with him. Yet Cassian’s words still stung. He could have brushed his brother off, claiming he didn’t know what he was talking about. But that would mean downplaying what he felt for you. 

And he was not prepared to even entertain the idea of that. 

“We’re not keeping anything a secret.” 

Cassian smirked. “So there is something going on.”

Azriel finished the rest of his tea, set it on the table and a scarred finger traced the rim of the mug as he considered his next words. He did not have words to describe what continued to bloom between the two of you. Longing stares, subtle touches, heavy kisses and passionate intimacy until the early hours of the morning.

And yet you had not crossed that line, not with him. He would not rush you, would not pressure you. Azriel accepted anything you offered and gave back everything in return. 

“She’s been through a lot,” he repeated Cassian’s earlier words, “I want her to understand that she’ll never have to experience that type of control ever again.”

Cassian did not need to ask anything further. Partly because he understood what Azriel was insinuating—that he was allowing you to set the pace and decide whatever you were—and the other part because it was not his place to press for more information. It was your life, your story and your trauma. He would not invade your privacy like that. 

Cassian respected you far too much. 

So, he nodded his head, pulled back his plate of breakfast and heaped another spoonful of eggs into his mouth. He would not push on the matter, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t toy with his brother a little. 

“Y/N mentioned she wanted to learn some witchcraft. You know, spells and rituals that her mother might’ve used.” Azriel hummed, gaze fixed on the table. Cassian bit back his smirk. “Nesta suggested taking a look in the library for some old books. Gwyn’s going to help.”

Azriel’s eyes snapped to Cassian’s, his face paling just slightly. Bingo. 

The shadowsinger swallowed. “When?” 

Cassian ate another spoonful. “They’re already down there now.” 

Azriel did not bid his brother a goodbye before his shadows guided him to the library doors within the House. His heart was thumping against his chest, an anxiety like no other streaming through his veins. He was yet to tell you about his infatuation with Mor, his brief involvement with Elain, and he had not yet disclosed the same about Gwyn. 

The last thing he wanted was for you to hear anything outside of anyone else’s mouths. It was for him to explain. No one else. 

He entered the library quietly, dismissing his shadows so as to not fright the priestesses. He passed Clotho first, offering a subtle nod in greeting before sauntering further into the dim library. 

Perhaps Azriel should have mentioned this place to you sooner. Despite your love for books, maybe knowing this place was available could have helped with your healing. But you had done so well without it, and Azriel had very selfishly enjoyed every moment of your presence. 

It did not take long to find you, your scent still lingering in the air and he followed that trail to one of the higher levels. There was where he found you. Alone, eyes gleaming in happiness as you looked through the archives of rituals and witchcraft. You already had two books in your arms and Azriel did not hesitate to take them from you as he approached. 

His presence took you by surprise, only for a moment and you offered a wide smile, your chest feeling warm. As it often did when you spent time with the shadowsinger. 

“Az… what are you doing here?” you asked in a way of greeting. 

He held booth books in one arm and offered a grin at the nickname you’d taken to calling him. Gods, he had only seen you yesterday evening and yet it felt as if it had been days. You looked even more beautiful today, the gentle glow of Fae lights casting over your skin. Though he could notice a hint of exhaustion in your eyes, likely from your training with Cassian and Rhysand. 

Az stepped closer. “Cass mentioned you were down here looking for some grimoires. Thought I’d offer some help.”

You squinted your eyes at him playfully, cocking your head to the side. “Didn’t Cassian tell you that Nesta was with me? And Gwyn?”

Colour stained his cheeks. “Yes. But an extra set of eyes and hands never hurt.” He looked around then, in search of his brother's mate and the young priestess that he had saved those few years ago. “Where are they anyway? Nesta and Gwyn.”

You shrugged, returning to look at the bookcase before you. “Nesta wanted to look at some romance novels, Gwyn mentioned she saved a secret stash of the smutty ones for her.” 

You did not mention the way the priestess had looked at you with guilt or embarrassment when Nesta told her Azriel was quite fond of you. Your cousin did not need to say anything for you to understand. There had clearly been something there in the past, something Gwyn felt wrong for. She had no reason to. 

But you did not speak those thoughts to her. Instead, you offered a beaming genuine smile and thanked her for offering her assistance. You had promised to come and visit the library again, and had suggested bringing lunch next time.

It was clear to her that her past involvement with the shadowsinger did nothing to sour your current one. And she was more than thankful for it. 

“And you’re not interested? In the smutty novels, I mean.” 

You turned to Azriel with a smirk, a knowing gaze in your eyes. He mirrored it, cheekily. Gods, he would never fail to make you melt beneath that hungry stare. “Something else has been keeping my interest instead.” 

A grin, and then, “I’d like to keep your interest tonight, if you’ll let me?” 

You quirked a brow, the books long forgotten as you faced the handsome male before you. “Oh? And what did you have in mind?” 

Everything with Azriel had felt so easy in the past weeks. Even this, the flirty… it seemed to fall naturally between you both. Never once had you experienced an uncomfortable silence or nervous pause. 

It felt right. 

Az closed the distance between you, reaching a gloved hand for your waist as he leaned down to brush his nose against yours. “I was thinking of taking you to the Rainbow… more specifically, to the theatre.” 

A grin spread across your full lips. “Really?” Your excitement was palpable, and Azriel had no doubt that if his shadows were here now, they’d buzz around your small frame with adoration. 

He nodded, planting a slow kiss to your mouth. Your lips puckered against his, following his lead. There had been more of this since that fruitful night he touched you at the townhouse. 

Kisses and touches when you were alone, lingering glances when in the presence of others. Often, your nights were spent with him, in his bed or yours, in the private library or in the gardens. 

You had allowed him to touch you, taste you… he had allowed you to do the same. Azriel had given you full control over every situation, every interaction. Whatever this was between you, you could not get enough.  

“I’d like that,” you whispered into the kiss, feeling his mouth stretch into a smile before he kissed you once more. 

You leaned into him, melting under his attentive touch when someone cleared their throat and he gently broke his mouth from yours. Nesta stood to the side, a pile of books in her arms and a brow quirked. 

But Gwyn… she did nothing to hide her grin, the flush of her cheeks or the happiness that glimmered in her teal eyes. You knew she knew of your story, your trauma. And you knew her happiness came from a place of understanding. 

Understanding what it took to break through the past and live in the present. To move on. To heal. 

“Need I remind you that this is a library, not a brothel.” 

You rolled your eyes at your cousin. “You best scamper off with those books then, Ness.” 

She scowled at you playfully when Gywn breathed a choked laugh. Azriel watched her then, his body stiffening just slightly before you. But enough for you to notice, to feel it. 

“It’s good to see you, Azriel.” She offered politely. 

He dipped his head. “And you, Gwyn. Thank you for helping Y/N with the grimoires.” She brushed him off with a waving hand and turned her bright attention to you with a smile. 

Azriel felt his tension slowly dissipate, watching the way you both seemed to communicate with your eyes alone. You knew, he could tell. And you did not think of him any differently. 

Not one bit. 

The play was wonderful. Well, as much of the first half that you had seen. By the time the curtain pulled for a short break, Azriel’s hands had begun to wander. Beginning on your knee and ending between your thighs. 

He had gotten you seats in Rhysand’s private booth. And when darkness shrouded the theater during the interval, his shadows encompassed you both to hide you away from the public. 

His lips were hot on yours, his tongue licking sensually against your own. Your small hand had wrapped around his thick shaft, pumping the way you had grown to know he liked. And his fingers curled deliciously at that spongy spot within you. 

You did not stop when the curtain opened and the play resumed. Neither did he. Azriel had instead lowered to his knees and pried you thighs open, rolling up the fabric of your dress as he stared into your soul. 

Then his mouth was on your aching cunt and your head was rolling back against your seat. His tongue worked meticulously, licking and swirling, his mouth closing to create suction on your throbbing clit. 

Your fingers curled into his hair, tugging at the roots and fingernails scratching at his scalp. The first time Azriel had tasted you, he had you reach that high three times before stopping. And every time since, he had done the same. 

Though this time, you knew you had to keep quiet. Your spare hand covered your mouth, your teeth biting at the palm of your hand to stifle the moans and whines that threatened to escape. 

Your hips bucked into his face, his guttural hum sending vibrations through your veins. He was a starved male when it came to you, and you feared you would never get used to that hunger. 

His fingers continued to pummel into your cunt, curling and scissoring to stretch you deliciously. The sounds were obscene, wet and quiet but everything was far too amplified. You only hoped his shadows could also offer some form of soundproofing, too. 

“Az…” you barely managed to whisper, forcing your eyes open to watch him. 

He was already looking at you, his pupils so blown in arousal that you could sparsely see the honey you loved so much. You had never experienced such desire before. Even in the other times you had been intimate with him, it never felt as strong or as dire as this. 

Because this had you wanting to damn any consequences. Damn any trauma you had once experienced. You wanted him, every part of his body and mind and soul. You wanted to feel his thick cock stretch you out, fill you until you were crying and pleading for him to ravage you. 

You’d never once felt such primal need, and Azriel noticed the shift in your scent. Noticed how it changed from arousal to a diabolical sense of unravelling. You’d never looked at him with such ferocity before. 

And Azriel feared he would lay down his life in that moment, if you so asked. 

You tightened around his fingers, your legs trembled. You bit down harder on your palm as undiluted pleasure seized your body. As you cried silently, as your thighs shut tight around his head. As he sucked on your clit at the same time his tongue rubbed against it. 

You came harder than you ever had before. And by the way you heaved a breath through your nose, you knew Azriel had reached his high with you. 

With his hand fisting his long cock and his pleasure dripped down his scarred fingers. Perhaps it was that hunger that remained that had you reaching for him… that had you guiding those fingers to your mouth as you cleaned his come with your tongue. 

He mirrored your actions, removing his digits from your cunt and stuffing them into his own mouth to suck them clean. You watched one another, chests heaving as your pussy throbbed and Azriel’s cock twitched. 

You’d go again, you’d force him into that chair and straddle him, sink down on him until he was buried so deep within you, you didn’t know where you ended and he began. 

And Azriel appeared to have sensed your thoughts and shook his head. He pulled his fingers from his mouth, but you kept his in yours. “Not here. I won’t take you for the first time in the fucking theatre.” 

A grin spread across your lips and you released his fingers, now clean as the faint salty taste of him stained your tongue. 

You batted your lashes down at him. “What if I asked nicely?” 

He huffed through his nose, though a smile graced his face. “Don’t tempt me. You deserve more than that.” 

Your expression softened at the kindness of his words. He always knew what to say, his actions always followed his verbal promises. Another thing you had never experienced before. But Azriel seemed to take pleasure in showing you how you should be treated. 

“You deserve everything,” he whispered. 

You reached for him then, for the knitted wool of his sweater and he followed your lead when you met him in a searing kiss. No words could convey what this male was beginning to mean to you. How strongly you felt for him. 

“I only want you.” 

Azriel’s heart remained steady, despite his mind's racing. He would give himself to you in a heartbeat. All you had to do was ask. 

He was about to tell you as much, when a gentle call of his name sounded in his mind. Azriel took a brief moment to compose himself before allowing his High Lord into his mind. 

Apologies for interrupting. He purred. Azriel fought the urge to roll his eyes. But Madja has concluded her research. She’d like to speak with us, we’re awaiting your return. 

You noticed the distant look on his eyes, the one he only sported when Rhysand called for him. Your stomach dropped slightly, not ready to end the night just yet. But the smile on Azriel’s lips suggested it would not be for the worst. 

“Madja has some information to share. They’re waiting for us at the House.”

He had winnowed you almost immediately to the bottom of the ten thousand stairs. Only then did he take a moment to fix both of your flushed appearances and plant a tender kiss to your mouth. 

He had flown you both to the balcony, gently settling you to your feet. Though your arm remained looped with his as you walked into the House proper, where Rhysand, Feyre, Cassian and Nesta awaited with Madja. 

The elder healer offered a smile in greeting as you entered the lounge, and your arm slipped from Azriel’s. 

“You will be pleased to know that I have finally exhausted all avenues for this research. I have some interesting things that I think would help and that I’d like to share.” 

Your heart thundered in anticipation. By the look in Madja’s eyes, you knew you were about to learn everything. She set three old books onto the table, their pages thick and discoloured. They must be at least five centuries old, but you would not be shocked if their age preceded that. 

“I finally managed to trace your heritage back to your ancestors through your blood and hair samples.” She paused, as if waiting for everyone’s undivided attention. 

“You are a direct descendent of Mother Garmelhia. She was High Witch of the Elesendray coven—a coven of earth witches. They were healers, though through her blood, the abilities were not always passed down to the offspring. Your mother was the first in two centuries to present these gifts. Her sister—” she turned to Nesta and Feyre, “—your mother did not possess such abilities. Elain inherited a drop of those gifts, which the Cauldron quickly took, but you—” Madja looked to you again, “—you are blessed with the rawest form. The same as your mothers, but stronger.” 

There was no hiding the silver than lined your eyes. A storm of emotions clouded your vision, your mind. Your mother… your beautiful mother… 

“For some their abilities lay dormant until something triggered it. For example, Elain’s did not trigger until forced into the Cauldron, and even then, her power had shifted when Made Fae.”

You processed her words, everything made sense. Your magic had been buried so deep within you, with your mothers mark. But you wondered if your power would have shown had she not glamoured it.

“So mine triggered the moment I passed the wall into Prythian?” you asked. 

Madja’s tight lips quirked to the side as if in thought. “It would appear something happened when you passed through. And with your Fae heritage from your father, that would have also played a part. Do you remember exactly when something felt differently?”

Your mind carried you back to that night, when Nesta took your hand in hers and guided you past that shimmering veil. When you were shoved to the ground and your hands touched the grass for the first time. You shared a look with your cousin, cocking her head to the side as if she was also trying to pinpoint it. 

“Um… right after we passed through. After that creature attacked us. Everything felt clearer, but still slightly hazy. I could sense things but I didn’t know what. I thought it was just because the land held magic…”

Rhys took a step closer, his hands stuffed into his pant pockets. There was a gleam in his eyes, one that demanded more. “Did you find anything else?”

Madja nodded, reaching for the top book of the pile and flipping it open to a random page. Indeed, the book was old, yet it somehow held the scent of something you had never come across before. Something slightly familiar, yet not at all. 

“Yes… have you ever heard of soul-ties?”

Something in your stomach almost exploded. Azriel took a curious step closer, eyes scanning the pages but they were all in ancient tongue—one that Madja clearly spoke or at least understood. 

When nobody replied, Madja went on. “Within the Elesendray coven, and many others in history, soul-ties were the equivalent of a mating bond. Through the brief history I could find, it is said that a witches soul calls to another. Not just any soul. The other half of theirs.”

“So… like a soul-mate?” Cassian piped up.

Madja nodded and she did not break your gaze. She knew something, something you did not. 

“What does that have to do with my abilities?”

“It doesn’t. Not directly at least. But it is also said that when a witch finds their soul-tie and their souls are merged whole again, it is a tether so unbreakable that it exceeds even the strength of a Fae mating bond. And unlike the Fae mating bonds, if a witch does not accept their soul-tie, they will cease to exist entirely.”

Everything went silent and your heart refused to beat. 

“What are you saying?” Nesta’s tone was not one to play with. 

But Madja took a breath and laid a withering hand over the page Azriel could not take his eyes off. “I believe you have found your soul-tie, Y/N.” 

No. There was no way. You didn’t dare look at Azriel. You couldn’t. You didn’t know what it was that grew between you, you did not know where you stood in that sense. But the relationship you had ran deep. Deep enough for you to fear losing whatever he was to you. 

You begged your power not to act, begged it not to show the fear that began to cripple you. You had already once been bound to a man you did not love, a man that did not love you. You would not be forced into it again, with a powerful male this time who could do unimaginable things if he wished. 

You stuffed that fear so far down you almost choked on it. “How do I know who my soul-tie is? I didn’t think there were any other witches in Velaris?” 

“It doesn’t have to be a witch.” Madja’s eyes bore into your very spirit. “A soul-tie would be someone who endured the same agony as you to trigger an ability, to become who they were fated to become. Nothing is by chance, the Mother forges what is meant to be. Especially for witches.”

You were too overwhelmed, scared. “But passing through the wall triggered my powers? Who else would have done that?” 

You were in denial, refusing to believe that this was to be your fate. But it was Rhysand who took a step closer, his lips parted and eyes clouded. 

“You always had your power, passing through the wall just awoke your senses, because of your Fae father. Your mother’s magic was truly triggered when we burned your mark.”

You watched as Rhysand’s eyes drifted to Azriel, to his hands. Your lungs seized, your chest ached. You could not look at him, could not dare meet his desperate gaze when a lone shadow slinked to your hand and weaved between your fingers. 

“Holy Gods,” Feyre breathed.

Azriel remained still, aloof. For if he moved even an inch, he was sure to crumble. He knew. At that moment, he knew. He’d always had his suspicions, even when you were human. His soul called to yours. The missing half of him.

Rhysand came closer again. “When your stepbrothers burned your hands when you were a child, when you were locked away, your ability to wield shadows was triggered.”

Shadowsinger.

You stared at his hands—those beautiful hands. You had not known of Azriel’s story, had not ever wanted to pry. You never felt the need to ask, never considered his hands were anything abnormal. His step-brothers had burned them. He was a child. 

And your magic… burning the mark to set it free…

It was silent for too long, like it was some sick dream and joke and the Mother only ever intended for you to experience pain and agony in your life. But it made far too much sense for it to not be true. 

You had never felt so at ease with anyone before. Had never experienced such comfort and safety than in his arms. You did not need to pretend with Azriel, you did not need to hide or apologise. You just existed. And that was enough for him. 

Because you didn’t feel a change when you passed through the wall, when that creature died. You felt it when you heard something in the sky. When you heard Azriel. 

You dared a glance at him then, at the male you were destined to be with. The one the Mother made for you. The other half of your soul. His beautiful hazel eyes stared at you with such unyielding clarity, like every ounce of pain he had ever endured was worth it. Because it brought him to this moment. To you. 

It almost seemed too good to be true. That he was for you. That he was your fate. Yet your mind would not allow one single negative thought to grow. No seeds of doubt planted, not even one. Because your soul knew, you knew. 

You had no fear in that moment, staring at him. For Azriel’s own eyes mirrored your every thought. For this first time in his life, he truly felt worthy. His mind did not allow his past to dictate if he deserved that happiness. His heart did not allow a beat to falter out of place. Steady, calm. Yet a storm raged in his soul. As it had done for the past eight weeks in your presence. 

Nothing in his life had ever felt so right before. So meant to be. He damned himself a fool for his past behaviours, for ever chasing or entertaining the idea of another. 

Azriel had never truly understood what it felt like to have a home. Not until Rhysand’s mother took him in. But even then, he felt he did not deserve such kindness, that the Mother did not grant him a home of his own for a reason. 

He had always deemed himself unworthy, such a fragile mindset had taken over his entire life. 

But she granted him you. A friend, a lover, a connection so strong it exceeded even his brothers’ bonds. A soul-tie. The literal missing half of him. He had felt honor many times in his life, had felt wanted and needed and appreciated. 

But up until this moment, he had never felt worthy. 

He did not shy from your gaze, from his family watching the scene unfold. He took a step closer as a tear slid down your warm cheek. His soul sang for yours, bellowed and beckoned and begged. That’s what that feeling had been. His soul had been yearning to reunite with yours the whole time. 

“I do not know how much time you’ll have if the soul-tie is not accepted.” Madja broke through the silence softly. 

Azriel took a step closer, almost reaching you. He shook his head. “That is not something to worry about.” 

Your chest ached, your throat burned. You could not look away from him—did not want to. If you had, you would’ve noticed the lack of your family. Would have seen them fade into the shadows with such admiration and happiness in their eyes as they left to give you both privacy. 

Madja had remained, though neither of you offered your attention. She smiled to herself, and piled the books atop one another again. “When you wish to accept the soul-tie, there is a ritual you must follow. I will be happy to guide you when you are ready.” Her words were white noise in your ears as she retreated.

You were almost shrouded in darkness now, Azriel’s shadows working to cocoon you both in a haze of privacy. Words failed you, unable to conjure even a sentence. He was so beautiful, gazing at you with such longing, as if you’d singlehandedly placed the stars in the sky. 

He was closer now, the toes of his shoes mere inches from yours. You could feel his warm breath on your face, feel a scarred hand reach to cup your jaw and his thumb brushed gently across your cheekbone. You melted into his touch, fighting to keep your eyes on him. 

“Hi,” you breathed. 

A wide smile pulled at the corners of his full lips, a row of white teeth peeking through. Your heart trembled. This beautiful male was yours. Yours.

“You want this?” He was not asking for clarity, no. Azriel had no doubt in his mind. But he would be damned if he did not make it clear that you still had a choice. No matter what, you would always have a choice. 

Your head bobbed in confirmation, a smile of your own tugging at your mouth now. Azriel grinned wider, the tip of his nose bumping yours. 

“Yeah?” he asked in a whisper, and you were giddy with excitement. 

Your eyes fluttered closed as your mouth met his. A kiss so tender and soft that your souls hummed in unity. Azriel did not need to look at you to know that flora had tangled in the strands of your hair, in the strands of his. 

Time seemed to stand still as you kissed him. And the realisation that he would get to do this with you forever… Well, it was something that finally made him thankful for his step-brother's cruelty. 

Because what a beautiful thing it was for this to be his fate.

a/n: so confession time... i truly was considering ending the series here and letting you guys decide for yourselves what they had to do for the ritual of accepting the soul-tie, AND THEN i had the most beautiful idea for it. there will be one final part to this series and potential future check-in blurbs later down the line. i cannot thank you guys enough for the amount of love you have shown this series, i have loved every moment of crafting and writing it and i hope you have enjoyed it just the same x

if you enjoyed it, please consider giving it a like and reblog, your feedback is always appreciated <3

TAG LIST FOR THE SERIES IS CLOSED, PLEASE DO NOT ASK TO BE ADDED!!

[theemporium]

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

series masterlist

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

“Yeah?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“The schedule?” Luke asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

Luke only laughed in response. 

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

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

“Like the Hunger Games?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You grinned. “Big plans?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Chill?” You repeated, grinning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

“This sucks!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jack glared. 

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

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

“Jack complaining about All Stars,” Curtis answered.

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

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

“Uh, no,” Luke shook his head. 

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

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

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

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

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

Jack’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. 

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

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

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

cherry🍒: consider this your one and only warning

…

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

A little too easy, if Luke was being honest. 

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

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

“Dude, you have shit timing.” 

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

“I never said that,” Luke retorted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who told you that?”

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

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

He knew. 

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

“So, let me get this straight.” 

Luke let out a deep sigh.

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

“Yes.” 

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

“Mhm.” 

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

“Yup.”

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

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

“I think I am being perfectly reasonable here.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Bye, Ethan!” 

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

…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you calling me lanky?” 

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

Luke snorted. “Geez, thanks.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“By calling me lanky.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Luke swallowed a little.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He swallowed. “Cute?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

And fuck, he could.

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

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

“I bought condoms.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He swallowed harshly. “No, I do—”

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

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

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

And Luke did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You felt right. 

This whole moment felt right. 

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

But it wasn’t. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Luke kind of wished this moment would last forever. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

.

[dollgxtz]

Hide and Surrender

Word Count: 5.1k

Summary: A simple game of hide and seek turns way more intense than you thought it would.

“I caught my prey, it’s only fair I get to eat my catch right?”

Tags: sylus x fem!reader, cnc, cunnilingus, predator play, predator x prey, hide and seek with roleplay, restraining, chasing, slightly rough sex, creampie, unprotected sex, overstimulation, forced blowjob

AN: Another fic idea that wouldn't leave my head. Can't remember which Touring in Love chapter it was, but in it Sylus plays hide and seek with us. And I was like, yknow what would make this 100x better? Predator play :3

"What would you like to play? I'll join you."

Those were the words that started it all.

You had half-expected Sylus to scoff at your suggestion, to find you childish for wanting to indulge in a game meant for children. But to your surprise, he agreed without hesitation, not even asking why. There was something in the way he said it, though—something that made your pulse quicken.

"You've played this before, right, Sylus?" you ask, covering your eyes with your hands to demonstrate. "You cover your eyes like this and count to ten. Then you come find me."

A moment of silence stretches between you, thick with something unspoken. Then, warm fingers wrap around your wrists, prying your hands gently away from your face. Your breath catches as you find yourself trapped beneath Sylus’ gaze—two crimson eyes watching you with something unreadable, something dangerous.

Those eyes—burning, searing, all-consuming—lock onto yours with something unreadable, something dangerous. It’s not just amusement or curiosity; it’s something deeper, something that snakes around your ribs and makes it hard to breathe. The way he looks at you is slow, patient, as if he has all the time in the world to take you apart piece by piece, as if he’s already thought of a thousand ways this game will end.

You feel your heart hammering against your ribs, loud, deafening, a traitorous thing that gives away too much.

He tilts his head slightly, as if considering something, as if studying you. The corners of his lips twitch—not quite a smile, but something just as unsettling.

"I didn’t have time or interest for such games when I was a child," he murmurs, his voice low, almost predatory. His lips curl into something between a smirk and a smile, and the way he looms over you makes you feel smaller, caged. "But for you? I’ll learn quickly, kitten."

The pet name slithers through the air, coiling around you, sinking into your skin like a brand. A shiver ripples down your spine, slow and deliberate, leaving a molten trail in its wake. Heat pools deep in your underwear, an unwelcome warmth that you fight to ignore. Your throat goes dry, and you tear your gaze away, desperate to escape the weight of his stare. But it’s too late—he’s already seen it.

A low chuckle spills from his lips, rich and smooth, yet laced with something dark. Something knowing. The sound wraps around you, thick with amusement, but there’s something beneath it, something that burrows under your skin and makes your pulse falter in a way that has nothing to do with fear. It’s dangerous—not because of what it is, but because of how your body reacts to it.

Like a predator toying with its prey.

He lingers, close enough that the heat of him prickles against your skin, close enough that you can see the glint in his half-lidded eyes. Yet, just as your breath catches in your throat, just as the tension coils so tight it threatens to snap, he takes a step back. Barely. Not enough to be safe—never enough to be safe—but just enough to keep you teetering on the edge.

His head tilts slightly, gaze lazy, his voice dipping into something slow, syrupy, dangerously smooth.

"Go on, then."

The words are soft, but there’s no playfulness in them anymore. No lighthearted teasing. Only promise. A single word, unspoken but heavy in the air between you.

"Hide."

There’s definitely no playfulness in his voice now.

Your pulse roars in your ears as adrenaline surges through your veins. Fine. You weren’t going down easy. This was just a simple game of Hide and Seek—nothing more. You force yourself to ignore the way your stomach twists, how your breath feels too fast, too shallow. You're overthinking it. Sylus loves to tease you, to get under your skin, to watch you squirm. He loves making you flustered, and you know that. But still…there's something in the way his lips curled into a smirk before he turned around to count, something in his tone when he called out, that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

"One…two…three…"

The second his eyes leave you, you bolt. Your feet pound against the tile floor as you dash up the stairs, each step groaning under your weight. Your movements are clumsy, fueled by nothing but instinct. You wince at how loud you are, practically announcing your location, but at this point? Who cares. The only thing that matters is finding a place to hide before—

"Ten." His voice is slow, deliberate. You swear you hear amusement laced in it.

You don't stop running. You throw yourself into his room, nearly tripping over your own feet as you spin wildly, scanning the space for the perfect hiding spot. Your chest rises and falls in quick succession, air burning in your lungs. The bed? No, too obvious. Under the desk? Not enough coverage.

Then, you hear it.

"Let's see where my little kitten decided to hide."

Your blood turns to ice.

Without thinking, you dive toward the closet, yanking the door open just enough to squeeze inside before gently—so gently—pulling it shut, leaving only the smallest crack to peek through. Darkness swallows you whole, the scent of Sylus’s cologne thick in the enclosed space, invading your senses. Your back presses against the wall, every inch of you wound so tightly that your muscles ache. Your breath comes in rapid, uneven pants, and you clamp a hand over your mouth to silence yourself.

Your heart pounds violently against your ribs, so loud it feels like it’s betraying you, threatening to give you away. You try to steady it, to slow your breaths, but every little sound—the creak of a floorboard, the soft click of a door opening—sends another jolt of panic surging through you.

Then, footsteps. Slow. Measured.

Getting closer.

You hear him before you see him.

The door creaks open, a slow, deliberate sound that cuts through the silence, sending a shiver down your spine. The room seems to shrink, the air thickening as his presence fills the space. It’s not just the sound of his footsteps—it’s something deeper, something intangible, an unseen force that presses against your chest, making it harder to breathe. Your heart pounds in response, the steady thump-thump-thump filling your ears like a war drum. Even as fear coils in your stomach, there's an undeniable thrill laced within it, a rush of something you refuse to name.

Through the narrow crack in the closet door, you finally see him. Sylus moves with practiced ease, unhurried, precise, like a predator that knows its prey has nowhere to run. His crimson eyes flicker with something unreadable as they scan the room. He doesn’t fumble, doesn’t hesitate. There’s an unsettling certainty to his movements, a quiet confidence that makes your pulse quicken.

His fingers trail lazily along the back of the couch before he crouches, peering beneath it. “Not under the couch, I see,” he muses, his voice smooth, almost casual. But there’s something beneath the words, something sharp, something laced with amusement, as if he already knows exactly where you are.

"Behind the curtains, maybe?" He doesn’t sound like he’s searching. He sounds like he’s toying with you.

He straightens, then shifts his focus to the glass windows, where the heavy curtains hang still. He moves toward them, fingertips grazing the fabric before he suddenly jerks them aside. You tense instinctively, though you know you aren’t there. He pauses, as if savoring the moment, before releasing the curtain and letting it drift back into place.

Your chest rises and falls in shallow, uneven breaths. Your lungs burn with the effort of staying quiet, of keeping still.

Then he turns, and your heart stutters violently in your chest as his gaze lands on the bed. No way he doesn’t already know where you are. No way his senses are that dull. You watch, frozen in place, as he slowly kneels, resting a hand against the mattress as he leans down to inspect the space beneath the frame. He hums softly. "Hmm...not under the bed either."

The moment he stands, you know. His next stop is the wardrobe.

A faint chuckle spills from his lips, low, knowing, as he starts toward you with slow, deliberate steps. Every cell in your body screams at you to move, but you remain paralyzed, pressed against the back of the closet as if you could somehow will yourself into the shadows. You can barely hear over the deafening thud of your heartbeat.

"Y’know, kitten," he drawls, his voice a lazy, syrupy purr that drips with something thick, something dangerous, "the sooner you come out, the gentler I’ll be with you."

Your breath catches violently in your throat. His voice alone sends a jolt through you, a sharp, involuntary response that leaves you feeling raw, exposed.

Then—he stops.

He tilts his head slightly, as if considering something, before abruptly turning away. "Oh right, I almost forgot to check the living room."

This is your chance. Your only chance.

No time to think—just move!

Your body reacts before your mind catches up. With a burst of energy, you shove the closet door open and bolt. The sudden shift from stillness to motion is disorienting, but you don’t stop, don’t hesitate. Your feet slam against the floor as you propel yourself forward, the only thought in your mind being run.

You don’t dare look back.

But then—air shifts behind you.

A sharp inhale. A pivot of movement.

And then—footsteps. Fast. Closing in.

Panic surges through you, raw and electric, as you push yourself harder. Your legs burn, your lungs ache, but you don’t stop. You just have to make it downstairs. Just a little farther. Just a little—

A rush of air. A presence at your back.

And then—a hand. Wrapping around your wrist.

You scream, a sharp, startled sound that barely has time to leave your lips before Sylus yanks you back with a firm tug of your wrist. The sudden force sends you stumbling, crashing into his chest, your breath hitching as his arm snakes around your waist, keeping you locked in place. He’s warm, solid, unyielding, and far too close. His scent—something dark and intoxicating—invades your senses, making your already racing heart hammer harder.

“Found you, kitten,” he murmurs, amusement dripping from his tone. His lips curl into a smirk as he tilts his head slightly, eyes glowing with satisfaction. “I was starting to worry I lost you forever.”

The mockery in his voice is unmistakable, but inwardly, you’re grinning, nearly laughing. This was exactly what you wanted—a chase, a fight, a chance to push back. But you don’t let him see that. Instead, you put on your best scowl, defiance burning in your gaze.

"Your acting’s gotten worse," you spit, jerking against his hold. You bring your knee up sharply, aiming for his groin with all the force you can muster.

But he’s faster.

Before your knee can make contact, a thick tendril of red mist swirls around you, his Evol surging to life in an instant. The energy coils around your limbs like living chains, locking you in place just as he moves.

In the blink of an eye, he shifts, twisting effortlessly, using his grip on you to throw you onto the bed with little more than a flick of his wrist. The mattress dips beneath your weight, and before you can even think of scrambling away, he’s already on top, looming over you, his expression smug, too amused.

You lash out.

Your fist shoots toward his face, but he leans back smoothly, just enough for your knuckles to miss his jaw by mere inches. You shift, twisting your body, using the momentum to kick upward, aiming for his ribs. Again, he dodges—his body shifting effortlessly, as if he already knows exactly what you’re going to do before you do it.

“Tsk, tsk,” he hums, easily maneuvering around another wild swing from you. “You’re getting sloppy, kitten. I thought you were actually trying.”

You grit your teeth, frustration bubbling beneath your skin. You manage to free an arm from the tendrils of mist, and without hesitation, you try to land a punch to his shoulder. This time, he catches your wrist mid-air, his grip tightening just enough to still your movement.

“You bast—” You twist your hips sharply, using every ounce of strength to break free, but he barely even moves. If anything, he looks bored, like he’s humoring you.

Sylus chuckles, low and deep. “You really don’t know when to give up, do you?” His grip on your wrist shifts slightly before he suddenly pushes you down hard, making you gasp as your bodies gravity shifts, forced into submission once again.

You feel your pulse jump when his lips brush the shell of your ear, his voice dropping to something even smoother, even softer, but no less dangerous.

“And here I thought we were just playing.” His fingers tighten ever so slightly around your wrists, his body pressing just close enough to remind you how little control you actually have in this moment. “I guess it’s my turn to get serious, hm?”

Your breath catches.

Something shifts in the air.

"S-Sylus, wait—" you gasp, your words catching in your throat as the sound of fabric tearing fills the room. In one swift motion, he's ripped your shorts apart, leaving your legs exposed to the cool air, the sudden chill a stark contrast to the heat still simmering between your thighs. Your underwear is the only thing left, a flimsy barrier between his intentions and your already soaked folds.

You start to protest, a mix of shock and anticipation swirling inside you, but the words die on your lips as Sylus shushes you softly, his voice a low, calming murmur. "Shh..." he whispers, his breath warm against your skin, sending a shiver racing up your spine.

"All that fighting, and yet you're soaked down here, kitten".

With deliberate slowness, he lowers his head between your thighs, the anticipation building as his lips hover just above the thin cloth. His tongue flicks out, tracing the outline of your folds through the fabric with agonizing precision. Each stroke is slow, torturous, a teasing promise of what's to come, and your protests dissolve into soft whimpers of need.

"An orgasm or two should get rid of that feistiness," he murmurs against you, his voice a rich, dark promise that leaves you trembling with anticipation.

Sylus's fingers deftly hook into the elastic of your panties, pulling the cloth aside with a practiced ease that leaves you exposed to him, vulnerable and aching. The cool air brushes against your skin for a fleeting moment before his mouth descends, and all coherent thought shatters as his tongue finds your aching cunt.

"Ah!"

The first touch is electric, a jolt of pure pleasure that arches your back off the bed, your hips lifting to meet him with a desperate need. His tongue works with a deliberate, maddening rhythm, alternating between long, languid strokes and quick, teasing flicks that have you gasping for breath.

Your hands find their way into his hair, fingers tangling in the strands as you hold him to you, guiding him closer even as your mind spins with the intensity of it all. He doesn't mind in the slightest, his low, satisfied hum sending vibrations through you, drawing a gasp from your lips.

"This—is c-cheating..." you manage to whine between ragged breaths, though your actions betray you as your hips move of their own accord, grinding against his mouth, seeking more of the pleasure he's so expertly giving.

“I caught my prey, it’s only fair I get to eat my catch right?” he says, before continuing his assault on your clit. His words send your head spinning and you suddenly feel like you can barely breathe.

With a renewed dedication, his tongue delving deeper, exploring every inch of you with a hunger that leaves you trembling. The world dissolves around you, leaving nothing but the exquisite sensation of his mouth on you, driving you relentlessly toward the peak of ecstasy.

The sensation of his tongue slipping inside you leaves you reeling, each thrust a masterful stroke that has you feeling drunk on the sheer ecstasy he’s delivering. It’s a skill that seems almost divine, the way he knows exactly how to unravel you, how to make you moan and whine so uncontrollably that it borders on begging.

Your body responds helplessly, hips bucking against him as your hands clutch at the sheets, trying to anchor yourself in the storm of pleasure. His tongue moves with purpose, each flick and thrust pushing you closer to that precipice, until finally, he shifts his focus, sucking on your clit with a precision that sends you spiraling over the edge.

The orgasm tears through you, leaving you breathless and shaking, your cries echoing in the room as you ride out the waves of bliss. But even as you begin to descend from the high, you’re dismayed to find that Sylus isn’t stopping, his mouth still working you with relentless dedication.

“P-please...no more...” you plead, trying to twist away, your body oversensitive and overwhelmed. But he simply adjusts his grip, his hands firm on your waist, holding you in place with an easy strength that keeps you from escaping.

“Still a little feisty, hm?” he teases, a wicked glint in his eyes as he looks up at you. “Like I thought. One more should do.” His words are a promise and a challenge, and as his mouth returns to its task, you know you’re helpless to resist the pull of his mastery, your body already surrendering to the inevitable wave building once more.

"Mgnh...ah..."

And just as promised, the fight within you starts to ebb away, like sand slipping through fingers, as Sylus's tongue continues its relentless, masterful assault. The pleasure builds higher to the point where it almost hurts, a crescendo that leaves you breathless and trembling, unable to do anything but call out his name, your voice breaking as your body jerks and shakes under his skilled touch.

"Sylus!"

The second orgasm crashes over you, pulling you under its tide, leaving you riding the waves of ecstasy until you finally collapse, utterly spent, like a boneless heap of jello. Your chest heaves with each ragged breath, tears of overstimulation gathering at the corners of your eyes, evidence of the intensity that just ripped through you.

Sylus leans back, a satisfied gleam in his eyes as he licks his lips, savoring the taste of you. He studies you with a mixture of amusement and triumph, taking in your ragdoll form sprawled before him. "Going to try and fight me again?" he teases, a smirk playing on his lips.

You manage a weak shake of your head, trying to suppress the smile tugging at your own lips, despite the exhaustion. Damn this slick bastard and his godly tongue, you think, a mixture of exasperation and admiration swirling within you.

"Good, just how I like you," he murmurs, his voice a low purr that sends a shiver through your already sensitive body. His hands move to his belt, fingers working with deliberate slowness to undo it, each click of the metal buckle a promise of what's to come. "Seems you're ready for the last phase of our game," he declares, his dark eyes locked onto yours, filled with a hunger that promises there's much more yet to be explored.

You lay there, your body still humming with the aftershocks of the intense pleasure he had delivered, your eyes heavy-lidded, your breath coming in short gasps. Sylus, ever attentive, noticed your gaze drifting downward, a mix of anticipation and desire in your eyes as you took in the hard and prominent bulge in his pants.

Your cheeks flushed as you realized the effect you had on him, his hard length straining and throbbing against the fabric of his pants, a testament to the pent-up desire that had been building throughout your little "game." He had only eaten you out and yet his cock seemed like it was about to burst and break the zipper.

Sylus finishes undoing his belt, the soft clinking of the metal a rhythmic counterpoint to your pounding heartbeat. The anticipation is electric, a live wire thrumming between you as his pants finally fall away, revealing the impressive length of him. Even after all the times you’ve had each other, his size never fails to elicit a sense of awe.

Your eyes widened as Sylus, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, moved closer, his hard length throbbing in front of your mouth. You shook your head, a silent refusal, playing hard to get, but he was having none of it. With a swift motion, he cupped your chin, tilting your head back and guiding his throbbing cock towards your mouth.

"Open up, sweetie," he whispered, his voice a low command. "Good little prey does as they're told."

Your heart raced as you felt the heat of his cock against your lips, his hands firm on your head, guiding you to take him in. You strained for control, but his grip tightened, and with a gentle yet insistent pressure, he pushed his length past your lips, filling your mouth with his hardness.

You gagged slightly, your eyes watering, but he held you firmly in place, his cock sliding deeper, his hands holding your face still, ensuring you took him all the way down your throat.

"Good girl," he moaned, his voice thick with pleasure. "Breathe through your nose, kitten."

You did as he commanded, your mouth working around his length, your tongue swirling, your throat constricting around him, the sensation of his hardness and the taste of him overwhelming your senses. He began to thrust gently, his hips moving in a slow, controlled rhythm, his cock sliding in and out of your mouth, his moans filling the room.

"That's it," he whispered, his breath ragged. "Take all of me, claim me as I'll claim you."

His words sent a thrill through you, and you redoubled your efforts, your mouth and throat working in unison, your hands gripping his thighs as he used your mouth for his pleasure. But just as you thought he would climax, he pulled out, his cock glistening with your saliva.

"Not yet," he said, his voice hoarse. "I won't miss the chance to claim my freshly caught prey with my seed."

He catches the wide look in your eyes and grins again, a wicked gleam lighting up his features as he moves closer, positioning himself between your trembling thighs. The head of his cock teases your entrance, brushing against your slick folds with a touch so light it sends a tremor of anticipation through you.

"Stay still." he murmurs, his voice a low purr that vibrates against your skin. You nod, breathless, as he begins to push forward, the slow, steady pressure parting your folds and stretching you inch by inch. The sensation is both exquisite and overwhelming, a delicious burn that leaves you gasping, feeling impossibly full as he sinks deeper inside you. You unknowingly tense up, and Sylus pauses.

Sylus's voice, low and soothing, filled the room as he slightly broke from his rough and demeaning role. His hands gently caressing your hips, his body still poised at your entrance. "Might as well relax" he whispered, his breath warm against your neck. "You have no choice but to take it anyways, kitten".

His words, spoken with tenderness and experience, were a balm to your nerves. You recognize this as his way of checking in and reminding you to relax without fully breaking the mood. He began to move with slow, gentle thrusts, his length sliding into you with deliberate slowness, allowing your body time to accommodate his size. "That's it, squeeze around me," he encouraged, his lips brushing your ear. "Feel me filling you, stretching you, making you whole."

The pain began to subside, replaced by a building pleasure as your body accepted his intrusion, the discomfort transforming into a unique blend of sensations. You moaned, a mix of relief and arousal, as he continued his slow, steady rhythm, his body moving in sync with yours, his hands guiding you through the waves of pleasure and discomfort, until the pain was a distant memory, and all that remained was the exquisite sensation of being filled by his hard length.

Your fingers curl into the bedsheets, clutching them for support as he begins to move again, each thrust firm and unrelenting, setting a rhythm that has you moaning helplessly beneath him. The friction is intoxicating, the sound of skin against skin mingling with your cries as you arch into him, your body alight with pleasure.

Sylus's breath came in short, sharp gasps as he thrust into you, his voice thick with desire. "So tight, so fucking wet," he growled, his words a testament to the pleasure you were providing. His hips moved in a relentless rhythm, his powerful strokes driving into your core with a force that left you breathless, your body trembling with each impact.

As the pleasure mounted within you, swelling like a storm threatening to break, Sylus transformed his movements into a slow, torturous dance. Each thrust was languid and deliberate, a teasing rhythm that played your body like a finely tuned instrument. You were on the brink, right at the precipice, but he held you there, tantalizingly close yet agonizingly far from the release you craved.

"Please, Sylus..." you whimpered, your voice a desperate plea, raw with need. "I need to...I need to finish..."

He leaned in, his breath a scorching whisper against your ear, his lips brushing your skin with feather-light caresses. "I'll let you cum, my love, if you tell me who won."

This bastard. Of course he wasn't going to make this easy.

The challenge in his words sent a shiver racing through you, a heady mix of excitement and frustration. You yearned for the release, but admitting his victory felt like a concession too steep. "Fuck you" you spat, your voice caught between resistance and the relentless pull of longing.

Sylus's pace slowed further, each thrust a deliberate tease, his body a contradiction of slow, sensual movements and the raw, simmering desire you could feel pulsing in every inch of him. "Mmm, not quite the answer I'm looking for. Tell me, sweetie," he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck, sending tingling sensations along your skin. "Who won this little game?"

Your body trembled beneath him, caught in the crossfire of need and stubbornness. The sweet torture was a dance of agony and ecstasy, and it was almost too much to bear and you snapped. "You w-won," you finally admitted, the words spilling from your lips like a confession, tearing free as you surrendered to the pleasure he offered, your body arching toward him in a silent plea. "Please...let me cum!"

"That's my good girl," he growled, his voice a low, primal rumble that resonated through your very core. "Now, cum for me."

His pace shifted, each thrust gaining force and urgency, driving deep and hard, a relentless rhythm that pushed you over the edge. Your body convulsed around him, muscles tightening in a wave of release, the climax ripping through you with a sweet, shuddering ferocity that left you breathless and utterly spent. In that moment, the world dissolved, leaving only the blissful aftermath of his mastery, the sweet torture finally giving way to a bliss that wrapped around you like a warm, comforting embrace.

As your body shudders around him, gripping him with the aftershocks of your orgasm, Sylus's thrusts grow more frantic, driven by his own approaching climax. The room fills with the sounds of your combined moans and the rhythmic slap of skin against skin.

His movements become erratic, each thrust deeper and more urgent, as if he's chasing the very edge of his own orgasm. You can feel the heat building within him, a primal energy that seeks release, and you arch into him, encouraging him to finish inside you.

With a final, powerful thrust, Sylus groans deeply, his body tensing above you as he finds his own release. You feel the hot rush of his climax inside you, a flood of warmth that fills you completely, making you feel full. His body shudders, muscles taut, as he pours himself into you, the sensation a sweet, intimate mingling of pleasure and finality.

Sylus, his breath ragged, withdrew from your body with a slow, deliberate motion, his eyes never leaving yours, a silent understanding passing between you. He laid down beside you, his body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure, his hand gently caressing your sweat-slicked skin, his touch tender and possessive. He peppered kisses on your lips, cheek, forehead and neck before settling next to you.

Both of you lay across the bed, chests rising and falling in sync, the aftermath of your "struggle" leaving a lingering heat in the air. The sheets are a mess beneath you, tangled from the chaos of it all. Your limbs feel heavy, aching from exertion, but there’s still a stubborn pout on your lips as you turn your head to glare at Sylus.

“Not fair!” you huff, breath still uneven. “I should’ve known you’d pull your dirty tricks…You owe me a new pair of shorts, by the way.”

He merely chuckles, the sound deep and rich, and before you can react, he shifts, wrapping an arm around your waist and tugging you flush against his side. His warmth seeps into your skin, the steady rise and fall of his chest oddly soothing despite everything. He squeezes you playfully, pressing his face against your hair as his laughter rumbles through his body.

“I could buy you a hundred new shorts if you wanted,” he murmurs, his tone amused.

You roll your eyes, but you don’t fight his hold. Instead, you melt into him, letting your body relax as you nuzzle into the crook of his neck. His scent is familiar now, something dark and warm, laced with a hint of something uniquely him. It’s comforting, even if you’d never admit it out loud.

For a moment, there’s peace. Just the steady rhythm of your breathing, the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the ghost of a smirk still tugging at his lips.

Then, his voice, soft but teasing.

“I definitely wouldn't mind a second or third round if it ends like this every time. What do you say?” he says, his breath hot against your ear.

Your breath catches, and you pull back just enough to look at him, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

The way his smirk deepens tells you everything you need to know.

[cowgirlvi]

mdni, sub bottom!vi, fem top!reader, vaginal sex, strap-on usage, rough sex, filthy

wc; 1,256

thinking about being ex-girlfriends with vi. since the breakup, you’ve heard numerous rumors about her getting around campus, taking girls out on sweet little dates and then fucking them stupid afterwards. it would normally bother you, except you know vi’s pent up, you know she’s not fully satisfied with the sex she’s having, because you know none of these other girls have put in the effort to fuck vi. 

you’ve yet to hear any rumors about these girls stuffing vi’s hole with their cocks, and you know it must be killing her. she’s always had a greedy hole, one that needs constant attention— whether it’s from your tongue, your fingers, or your strap. 

after seeing the types of girls vi has been taking out on dates, you know for a fact that they’re not fucking her— and even if they wanted to, they wouldn’t be able to fuck her right, they wouldn’t be able to fuck her like you do.

so you honestly find this whole situation funny, the way vi is so clearly trying to rub these girls in your face. you’re not falling for her bait, you’re not going to give her a reaction, because there’s nothing to even react to.

which is why you aren’t surprised when vi shows up at your doorstep a week later. her cheeks are flushed and her puppy-dog eyes are round and filled with a mix of conflicting emotions. you almost laugh in her face, but you’re quick to school your emotions.

clearing your throat, you say, “can i help you, vi?”

”i just— i feel bad about the way things ended between us,” vi replies. god, her eyes are so blue, so full of hope and desperation. she longs for you to fuck her, that you’ll finally make the ache go away, the one that’s been tormenting her little pussy.

”mmm, you do?” you tap your manicured nails against your front door, appearing bored and uninterested. “will that be all, vi?” you ask, already beginning to shut your door.

vi is quick to shove her hand against your door with a loud thud, pushing it open and then peering at you with eyes suddenly full of shame. “baby, i— fuck, i miss you, okay?” she finally admits.

you smile. you already knew that.

which explains how vi ended up in your bed, the pink sheets a ruffled mess, her clothes flung across the room, and her muscular frame a trembling mess on your mattress. she’s laying on her back, holding her legs up to her chest, her cute pussy on full display, and your strap is pressed inside her to the hilt.

you can reach so deep inside her in this position, you can hit all the spots that make her shake, that make her cry and scream. not to mention, the view of her cunt swallowing you whole, her fluttering hole drowning your cock in her tangy juices. 

you can see the desperation in every line of her body, the way she’s aching to be used. it’s a sight that would have once filled you with jealousy and possessiveness if anyone else were to see it, but now as you stare down at vi, all you want to do is laugh at her, to coo at how pathetic she looks.

”you missed me, huh?” you say, driving your hips forward with a rough thrust. “that’s funny, baby. i heard you’ve been keeping pretty busy.”

vi goes crosseyed when you slam against her cunt, a strangled moan escaping her pouty lips. “mmffuck!”

you run a finger along vi’s slit while keeping a steady pace with your strap, feeling the slick, warm heat of her arousal. vi shudders at the touch, her hips twitching forward slightly, seeking more contact. you giggle, knowing that no matter how many girls vi brought home, no matter how many times she tried to replace you... nothing could compare to this.

”fuck, baby, your pussy’s a mess. none of those girls knew how to take care of this greedy cunt, did they?”

vi immediately shakes her head, mindlessly moaning. “ahh, only y-you— it’s only ever been you— unhh— i swear!“

you know vi too well, you know her body better than vi knows it herself. you know that vi needs to be stretched, to be filled, to be used hard and fast and without mercy. and judging by the desperate— borderline anguished— look on vi’s face, you were right to assume that none of those other girls could give her what she craved.

vi’s feet bob aimlessly in the air, her legs spread as wide as her flexibility allows her to, and she looks like an easy whore— she looks like the type of dumb slut that would be desperate enough to beg some rando on the street to fill her up.

”poor baby,” you coo down at her. “you just needed me to take care of you all this time.”

”yes, yes, fuck! need you, uuuh—“

you relish in the desperation in vi’s voice. you know you have vi right where you want her, trembling and needy, craving the one thing no one else can give her.

the obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin fills the room, punctuated by vi’s high, breathy moans and grunts. you know you’re hitting all the right spots, know that you’re fucking vi in a way no one else will ever be able to replicate. she’s stuck with you forever.

"fuck, baby... you're so tight," you groan, your hips never faltering in their relentless rhythm. “your pussy is sucking on me so hard— mmf— can’t get enough, can you?”

her creamy pussy is hugging your strap like a vise and you relish in the way her body spasms around you. you know vi is addicted to this feeling, to the delicious mix of pleasure and pain that only you can give her, to the way you stir up her guts. it’s a high she can’t find anywhere else, a blissful oblivion that vi has been desperately chasing ever since your breakup.

you watch in dark satisfaction as vi’s tough, muscular body goes pliant and soft underneath you, all because she’s filled with cock. vi’s a fucked-out disaster; her abs twitching and flexing, her arms trembling as she tries to hold her legs back for you, her thick thighs quivering.

”ohh— hnnnggff! fuck, fuck, i’m gonna come!” vi sobs, her back arching harshly, her tits bouncing obscenely with every slam of your hips. her voice is raspy and she looks sinful.

you grip vi’s waist hard enough to leave bruises as you piston your hips impossibly faster, her wetness splashing between the two of you. vi’s eyes roll back in her head, her tongue hanging out stupidly as she surrenders to the intense pleasure radiating from her core. 

“come for me, vi. who knows, ah, if i’ll ever wanna fuck you again after this, so you better come right fucking now,” you threaten.

it’s like a flip switches within her because suddenly vi’s body seizes beneath you, as if she has no choice but to obey. she’s squealing and gasping as her body tenses and shakes at the same time, her thighs trying to close around you, but you’re quick to shove her legs back open; you’re determined to wring out every last drop of pleasure.

“mmffagh! holy fuuck— ahhh! yes, yes, please!”

it’s the most devastating orgasm of her life.

[vikasmama]

that mean caitlyn drabble you wrote nghh *short circuiting noises*

distracting her while she's trying to work, filling out some ridiculous paperwork or something that means nothing to you. so desperate it hurts, trying not to make it obvious how you rut against one of her office chairs watching her work. her long fingers twirling her pen and her brows furrowed in concentration, all fueling your neediness until she stops pretending she doesn't hear you and reprimands you for being such a whore omgggg

⭑ need to be her dumb office pet.

⋆౨ৎ ₊cw. — (men + minors dni!) afab!reader, mean dom!caitlyn, fingering, choking, edging, degradation, dumbification…. gulp. no aftercare ˊᴖˋ use of “whore”, “slut”, “my love / dear”. i fully ran w this teehee!

“sit in my office with me, dear.” caitlyn airily suggests, trailing her slender fingers down your arm, squeezing before passing you in the hall.

“please. i work better with you around.”

it’s hard to deny caitlyn of anything, and usually you wouldn’t. you won’t because her hair is down, cascading down her shoulders and back, and she’s wearing that tight, black turtleneck you love. so, yes, you will sit pretty in her office like she wants, even though you hesitated from how needy you’d gotten with her simple touch in the hallway.

now, it is becoming more difficult by the second to ignore the warm ache between your legs. she’s reading something, analyzing it? she’s completely engrossed, eyebrows creased in the same way they appear when she’s concentrated on stuffing her cock into you just right. she readjusts in her seat, leaning fully back against the chair and bringing the document closer, giving you a full view of her pillowy thighs begging for you to have a seat. her favorite fountain pen is twirled back and forth between her fingers, and you’re suppressing whines at the thought of being the object.

you’ve become incredibly thankful for the armrests that the chairs in her office have. your hands dig into the cushioning, holding all your restraint to not moan and make a scene in your grip. your thighs clench together just watching her, slowly grinding yourself into the chair as best you can. it isn’t enough, it never stood a chance of being so. just a weak imitation of her fingers, her tongue, her dick - anything your imagination could conjure. still, you find a decent angle every few rock of your hips and that’s enough to satiate you for now.

( fast forward to her recognizing your labored breaths, calling you over and demanding you display yourself on top her desk since you want to act so “perverted”. )

“you cannot sit still for more than a few minutes?” caitlyn chastises you, a bite to her words you often hear when she’s irritated. your once suppressed whines come out full throttle now, arching off the desk when her slender fingers push deeper into you.

“so desperate. you’re pathetic.”

“c-cait-”

“shut up. stupid sluts don’t get to speak to me. you’ll cum and then leave me to my fucking work.” your eyes are tightly squeezed close, though if they weren’t you’d see how her cold gaze doesn’t once leave your face. her one uncovered eye watches you, the sadisticness in her deriving pleasure from how utterly dumb she makes you. she lets out a sigh as your bucking hips knock a few papers off the desk, her jaw clenching.

pushing you further back atop the surface, caitlyn invades your space more. her fingers deftly increasing in speed, highlighting the dirty, depraved squelching sounds your cunt makes. you suck her in so eagerly, wetness pooling under you, over her documents. your lover grabs your face, focusing your withering attention on her. still, her eyes remain on yours. even as her thumb finds your clit and you thrash a little from the overwhelm, she stares. caitlyn’s always been one for nonverbal communication, actions are louder than words and all that. she’s learned with much time how much she likes to watch. to see how you tremble, the pout you wear and extra whines you let out when she calls you names. caitlyn thinks you’re so beautiful like this, a sweet, dumb mess all for her. her poor baby.

“tell me, do you have any idea how important this work is?everything i must fill out, sign off, to keep this city going?” a third finger is added to her strokes somewhere during her questioning, you don’t even remember feeling it. you can’t remember much of anything. she squeezes your cheeks hard, pursing your lips adorably as your sounds become garbled. she scoffs out a dry laugh, “of course not. this is all you think about.”

you nod, too excitedly for the way you’re being spoken to. she lets your face go and you moan out her name, digging your nails into the grooves of wood to steady yourself. the stretch caitlyn gives you has your eyes crossing, and you’re quickly teetering over the edge of cumming.

“cait, pl-please,” the only thing you can think to do is beg because you know she knows. she always does. “let me cum, please! ohmygod, fuckfuck- mmph!” and she lets you beg, even if she also knows she’s not going to give you what you want.

“you want to cum, my love?”

her accented voice leveled, unaffected, just sounds so fucking good. you're pulsing. squeaking out series of pleads and yeses, your thighs twitch uncontrollably and almost squeeze around her arm. you can feel it, your lower stomach tightening and it’s so hot; your mind goes blank and you’re ready to scream— and she stops.

“hm. dumb whore. how naive.”

all the adrenaline, titillation you’d built falls flat. the sudden loss of stimulation makes you sniffle, breathing heavy as your beating heart does its best to still. she doesn’t pull out, just lets you grapple with how full you are with nothing to do about it. you have half the mind to whine and be a brat about it, call her mean and turn your nose up at her advances. but then you’d be like this for hours, taking her fingers or whatever else she decides you deserve and maybe you wouldn’t get to cum at all… yeah, you’ll be good and take it.

“do you honestly think you deserve to? tearing me away from my work like this, dripping all over my documents. i should just leave you like this.” her scolding has you whining like a kicked puppy. she shifts her fingers ever so slightly to tease, fighting back a chuckle with how quickly she feels your pussy clench and try to suck them deeper in. “i’m just reinforcing bad behavior, aren’t i?”

“no, fuck- please! please, it won’t happen again,” it will. “i’ll be good, caitlyn, i swear!” you won’t.

shit, you’re breathtaking. the sheen of sweat covering your forehead, the tip of your nose, makes you glow akin to a star. she wants to kiss away your frown, pinch your rosy cheeks, pamper you as she usually does. and of course she wants to see you cum, right after she’s taught you a bit about patience.

a gasp catches in your throat when she leisurely starts circling your clit once again. it’s too slow, you need more, more. though before you’re given the chance to consider complaining, fingers wrap around your neck and press deliciously into your skin. fuck, what were you even thinking about? she pulls you forward by her hold, looking down on you with a merciless smile. you try not to buck or squirm under her touch so she keeps going, your wrecked moans strained while you let her have her way.

“you do know how to sit still, then.” eyes meet and a whimper escapes you at her unwavering gaze. you feel completely brainless by now, unable to compute anything other than getting her to keep fucking you. you attempt a nod to show that yes, you’re learning. please, please just go faster. caitlyn seems to appreciate it, humming and bringing her lips to your ear.

“good sluts that wait get rewarded.”

and then her forgotten fingers are curling inside you, dragging along your walls and hitting your favorite spot with more speed she’d given you previously. caitlyn’s fingers squeeze tighter around your neck, muddling your brain more and keeping you in place for her viewing pleasure. her entire study smells like sex, the air is hot and so are you, so hot and warm — she just started again and you feel the warmth building up as quickly as before. “thank you…thaank youthankyou-” your gratitude messily falls from your lips, but you’re cut off by your girl’s annoyed tone.

“stop whining and cum.”

her permission gives you the final push you needed. feeling yourself reach your peak, whole body tensed and seeing white, it’s so much. it’s so good. you claw at caitlyn’s arm holding your throat for stability while her fingers fuck you through it expertly. she hums in approval when you start trembling, thighs burning and tired and overstimulation starting to build from her mercilessness. she releases your throat, and with some last few strokes she also pulls out, inspecting the stickiness coating her now pruned fingers.

“open.” and immediately your jaw falls slack like the trained slut she’s made of you. you suck like it’s all you know, eyes rolling back from her prodding on your tongue. for once, caitlyn coos soothingly, rubbing one of your thighs to ease your comedown.

“there you are. come, dear, let’s get you cleaned up.”

maybe she’ll bend you over the desk next time.

— 𖦹₊⊹ vikasmama.

[trulyy-yourzz]

✿fluff - b.e x reader

I know we all need a little something to make us feel better (I'm still mourning😞), so as a fellow billie writer, and for the requests in my inbox, here you go my loves 💕 I hope you enjoyy. Mwa!

ʚɞ

Billie sat hunched on the edge of her bed, her eyes red and puffy from crying. She had just gotten back from the Grammy Awards, seeing all her friends and peers winning awards left and right while she came away with nothing. It stung more than she ever could have imagined. And she didn't expect it to.

There was a soft knock at her bedroom door before it opened, revealing you, her girlfriend. Billie looked up at you with a sad smile, trying to be strong even though she felt like crumbling inside.

"Hey, can I come in?" You asked softly, your voice filled with concern.

Billie nodded, wiping at her tear-stained cheeks. "Yeah, of course. I could use the company right now."

You entered the room and closed the door behind you. then making your way over to sit beside Billie on the bed. You wrapped a comforting arm around the singer's shoulders, pulling her close. "I'm so sorry about tonight, Bille. I know how much the Grammys meant to you," you murmured, rubbing your hand soothingly along Billie's arm.

Billie let out a shaky sigh, leaning into your touch. "I just...I don't get it. I poured my heart and soul into my album. I thought for sure I had a shot at winning something, anything really. But... nothing. It's like, what's the point?" Her voice cracked with emotion as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. You tightened her embrace, letting Billie cry into your shoulder.

"You can't think like that," you said firmly but kindly. "Your music means everything to so many people, including me. The fact that you didn't win an award doesn't diminish your talent or your impact."

Billie sniffled and pulled back to look at you with loving eyes. "You really mean that?"

You nodded, cupping Billie's face in your hands. "I do Billie, you're an incredible artist and an even more incredible person. Don't let one night or a silly little award define you or your career. Your album is beyond amazing."

Billie felt a small smile tug at her lips as she gazed into your earnest eyes. "Thank you. I don't know what I'd do without you."

"You don't have to do anything without me," you said with a warm smile, cupping her cheek and leaning in to plant a soft kiss on her lips.

"We're in this together, love..."

°

°

°

Notes: screaming, crying, and throwing up!

That's all❤️

[aakeysmash]

Pregnancy cravings

Farmer!Sukuna’s masterlist

Farmer!Sukuna thought dealing with your pregnancy cravings would be a walk in the park. I mean, come on, you two are basically self sufficient: he’s literally a farmer, what could you possibly crave that he doesn’t already have planted or stored?

Your cravings hit at the start of your second trimester. You’re barely showing, and probably the fact that nothing you eat stays in your stomach for more than two hours isn’t helping your case.

It’s winter and it’s snowing: your fields are currently covered in snow, your chickens are huddled up in their coop, your cows are sleeping in their heated stable… and you? You’re reading a book right in front of your fireplace. Sukuna gets home with his arms full of logs to keep the fire alive all night. He sets them on the ground before plopping down next to you with snow clinging to his hair.

“Get off, your nose is cold,” you mumble, pushing him away when he tries to give you a kiss. He raises one of his eyebrows, kissing you on the cheek either way (two times, to spite you). You let out a dramatic whine.

He chuckles, ruffling his hair and wetting your book’s pages with a couple of snowflakes. Annoyed, you roughly close the book, and turn around to give him a piece of your mind, just to find yourself wrapped in his arms.

“I said get off,” you repeat, softer, leaning in despite your words. His body heat is doing a better job than the fire at thawing the chill from your limbs.

“And I don’t care,” he replies nonchalantly. He kisses your temple, cocooning you deeper into him by opening his legs and tucking you into the space in front of him. You grumble something unintelligible.

“How are the only two people I can stand doing today?” He asks you, rocking you side by side. Seeing you pregnant makes him feel uncomfortably soft. And seeing you pregnant with his child? Oh god.

“I want ice cream.”

He stops.

“Huh?”

“More like your offspring wants ice cream,” you sniffle from under his jaw.

“I don’t think we have any in the freezer,” he responds, looking you in the eyes. Your lip starts wobbling.

“But I want it,” you brokenly say, trying to swallow your sobs. His heart clenches.

“I don’t think you’ll be able to have it today,” he says, and immediately regrets it when your eyes well up with tears.

“C’mon, don’t cry now, it’s just ice cream,” he tries to comfort you. Apparently he does a horrible job, because you start bawling.

“But I want it! And I hate that I want it so bad! You know how much I hate playing the weak and fragile woman part, why are you being mean?” you wail, shoving him away and getting up. You quickly go to the kitchen to drink a glass of water, the duvet that was covering you mere seconds ago acting as your cloak.

“No, babe, I’m not-“

You snap your head back angrily, levelling him with a hostile glare. “Yes you are! You’re being mean when it’s your fault I’m like this!” You motion to your body.

“Actually, you begged for it, wife,” he shrugs, a corner of his mouth lifting. He doesn’t expect the punch you throw at his chest.

“Don’t ever come near me again,” you seethe, drinking your water and flying up the stairs. He sighs, rubbing his temples, wincing when he hears you sniffle again.

After ten minutes he knocks on your bedroom door- the same one you not-so-gracefully threw in his face.

“C’mon. Get out,” he grits out. Who knew dealing with a pregnant woman would strip him of the little patience he still has left?

“No. You value me less than ice cream.”

He sighs. “What can I do t’ make you forgive me?” He hears the soft pit pat of your sock-clad feet on the floor before the door creaks open. From the last few months, he'd say your mood swing should be finished by now.

You gently lower the handle, looking at his condescending espression. Then you sag your shoulder, gazing at the floor.

"You big crybaby. C'mere," he smirks, opening his arms. You bury your head in his shoulder, and he pats your hair mockingly.

"I still want ice cream, though," you mumble.

"I'll go get it at the city right now if ya stop crying," he chuckles. He widens his eyes, realizing that... he caught himself too late.

You abruptly step back. He winces.

"And you'd leave me here all alone?! Why don't you love me anymore?!"

[xgremlinxx]

I was literally thinking about this, like nobody from my past is worth being sad about...I was always the one that did or fronted everything, and it still wasn't enough. Hey, i'm not mad, i'm glad they showed their true colors to me.

They can't tell me that they had better than me, they settled for losers, drug addicts, and selfish bozos. Hey i'm not the greatest but I saw what they went for after me, don't ever tell me I didn't love or try with my whole heart, I saw how you settled for less because of your delusions.

yes, nobody is worth being sad about over losing them for me personally except for my parents, sponsoring my old ass letting me squat. I'll love them to the ends of the universe and back.

and nah i dga single fuck about being independent right now...My parents are great, sorry I didn't have fuck ass parents like ya'll. My states economy is dog shit, people making minimum wage to pay for fast food meals. Shit is burning down, inflation is too high. I dated a woman that had to sell their pussy...and you know what, I would totally sell dick if it was socially acceptable and celebrated like it is to sell pussy in the year of our lord 2025. LOL If it was socially in demand, but I wasn't born with a pussy, and lets be honest, thank g0d for that! Ya'll women in the west are beyond cooked.

I'm just being facetious. I could never sell my soul like that. There is literally nothing left in people like that, and it's so sad to see up close, so much sadder than just hearing about it.

Im finna work and stack until things improve. There is no rush. There is no panic. There is no desire for fleshly or earthly goods, okay maybe not true I do love women who love me, but I have isolated myself, and it's for a reason, because beyond my fleshly carnal desires there is a part of me that yearns for more. It's longing for my spiritual growth and gains. And it's all good.

[enwoso]

Hi, would you write a lovie fic where she’s learning how to ride her bike? And in the learning process she takes some tumbles, but in the end she learns it.

BALANCING ACT | alessia russo x child!reader

grumpy masterlist

it was a sunny day in london, painting the backyard in hues of gold and orange as alessia crouched down, adjusting the pink helmet strap on your chin, to stop it scratching. your wild little curls peeking out from under the helmet and a determined glint in your big blue eyes as you gripped the handlebars of your small pink bike. 

the training wheels had officially came off and alessia's heart was doing an uneven dance between excitement but also worry and dread. 

"you ready then, lovie?" your mummy asked, giving your cheek a gentle squeezed as you looked up a big grin on your face.

you had been begging your mummy for the past few weeks to take the training wheels of your bike telling her you were a big girl and didn't need them anymore and had nothing to do with the fact that all your friends from school were also learning to ride their bikes without training wheels.

"i'm ready!" you declared, your tiny hands tightening on the handlebars as your mummy positioned you so you were facing down the driveway as she silently hoped you were out the way of her car - not wanting it to get scratched.

with a soft smile, alessia placed her hands on the back of the seat, steadying the bike for you. "okay, remember to look ahead and keep pedalling. i've got you." 

you gave her a resolute nod as your face scrunched up in concentration, alessia pushed gently on the back of the seat as she jogged alongside you as the little bike wobbled forward. and for a few glorious seconds, you were actually doing it. the pedals turned and you and the bike seemed to stay upright as you let out a excited giggle.

but then, the inevitable happened. the dread that had lingered in alessia's head happened.

the front wheel veered slightly and you tipped to the side, alessia's hands reached out trying to catch you but it was too late as you tumbled onto the grass on the side of the pavement.

you sat up, your lip quivering as you clutched your scraped knee. "owie" you whimpered, your fingers hovering over the fresh scrape.

"oh, lovie" your mummy cooed, scooping you up into her arms, kissing the top of your head as she brushed a stray tear that had escaped from your cheek, "lets get you inside and patched up!"

alessia carrying you into the kitchen before lifting you onto the counter and rummaged throught a drawer for a box of plaster, ones with a cartoon character of course as in your mind they worked so much better than the boring normal ones. 

your tiny legs swinging back and forth as you watched your mummy carefully clean the scrape with a damp cloth. "does it hurt a lot?" your mummy asked softly, placing the cloth to one side.

"a little" you admitted but your voice wasn't as small as alessia had expected it to be.

"okay, now this plaster is magic" your mummy said with a grin as she peeled of a bright blue strip decorated with cartoon stars, "this will make you all better in no time!"

you gave your mummy an amused look, "magic?" 

"absolutely, doctor mummy guarantees it!" alessia pressed the plaster gently over the scrape, giving it a little pat for good measure. as alessia turned to toss the wrapper away, she heard your little voice, matter of fact and full of determination.

"can we go back outside now?"

alessia froze, blinking as she processed the request, turning back to you as you were already trying to wriggle off the counter, "wait- you want to keep trying?"

"yeah!" your face lit up with a smile as you spoke so full of confidence as if it was the most obvious thing you could have ever said. "i need to learn by myself!"

for a second, alessia just stared at you, a tiny whirlwind of stubbornness and resolve that you were as alessia thought back to her own childhood and how she would always feel more determined after the smallest of failures.

but here you were, your knee scraped most likely still stinging and you were ready to jump back on the bike as if nothing had happened. a big swell of pride filled alessia's chest it was making it ache slightly.

"okay," your mummy said, brushing a small strand of hair out of your face, "let me just grab a bottle of water first. and if you feel tired we stop, okay?"

"ok mummy!" you chirped and already halfway to the door to put your trainers back on after your mummy had dumped them at the front door when she carried you in.

once you both got back outside the sun was lower, as it casted shadows across the grass. alessia steadying the bike once more, her hands firm but gentle on the seat.

"let's try again," this time, alessia could tell something was different. your wobbling was a little less wobbly, your pedalling was a little more confident as then all of a sudden, you didn't need your mummy's hands there to keep you steady.

"thats it! keep doing it!" your mummy cheered as she clapped loudly her voice high with excitement. your face breaking into a wide grin as you realised what was happening. 

you were riding your bike. by yourself.

"im doin' it! mummy! look i can do it!" you cried with excitement as the same small giggles left your lips. alessia clapped her hands, pride radiating from every pore as she jogged beside you. tears pricking at her eyes as she blinked them away, focusing on this moment.

when you finally came to a triumphant stop, as the pavement has ran out, you hopped off the bike, throwing your arms around your mummy's leg as she scooped you up into her arms. "i did it!"

"you did it, lovie!" your mummy murmured, twirling you around with chorus of cheers and laugher, "i'm so so so proud of you!"

you grinned, resting your head on your mummy's shoulder, "you were right the plaster was magic!" you giggled out.

alessia laughed as she held you close as she shook her head, "no baby, your the magic."

in the glow of the setting sun, you rode your bike back home perfectly before leaving it triumphantly in the garage before listing off what you wanted for dinner that nigh as alessia while listening to your list realised she had just witnessed a small but extraordinary moment - your first taste of determination and victory.

[mintfullyyours]

Just thinking about Amnesia!Simon. but also sorry if this has been done before... I'm new to the fandom but adore everyone here so much so I wanted to contribute.

Thinking about how your fingers tighten around the sheets as you sit beside him. The hospital room is too bright, too sterile, too wrong. Ghost — Simon —stares at you with blank, unrecognizing eyes, his face unreadable beneath the bandages.

It shouldn't have been like this. It was one mission. One last mission. That's what they always say, right?

Now the man who once knew you better than anyone now doesn't even flinch when you whisper his name.

"'m sorry," he mutters, his voice rough but distant. "I don't... I don't remember you."

Something cracks in your chest, but before the pain fully sets in, he speaks again.

"But I think I should."

Your breath catches.

Ghost leans forward, studying you like you're a puzzle he’s desperate to solve. His fingers twitch, like he’s fighting the urge to reach for you.

True, that he saw a pretty little thing walk into his forsaken hospital room and wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth into her bones. Even through the cotton haze of sleep, something pulled him to her like a moth to flame.

"You'll remember me, Si. Eventually. Or so the doctors say..." You're rambling now because it seemed better than the heavy silence between you.

"You'll remember me because... You love me." You swallow hard, "You always have."

The gold wedding band on your ring finger glints against the hospital light.

It catches Simon's eye.

His jaw tenses, his breath uneven. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he asks, "Did I tell you that a lot?"

Your heart clenches.

"No," you admit softly. "But you didn’t have to. I just knew"

Silence stretches between you. Would he remmeber you? Maybe not. The doctors never gave you a real answer.

Then, slow and deliberate, he lifts his hand and brushes his fingers against yours—tentative but protective. Like muscle memory.

Like something inside him still remembers.

[ungoliantschilde]

I spent less than 10 minutes googling this:

Marie Antoinette became the Queen of France at 14. FOURTEEN.

Find a rich girl that’s a Freshman in Highschool. Tell her that her job is to have babies with ugly dude who’s a junior at the school, and make sure the economy for the whole country gets better soon. also, that junior she has to fuck? He is this weird sweaty asshole whose Dad owns the school. Total zero. No pressure… have babies.

New husband (wtf?!) has a weird as fuck family. Dude’s Dad is GROSS, and is utterly obsessed with an absolute skank that pisses off everyone. The Dad dies. BAM! Promotion. 15 years old and now you’re the queen. New plan (2 parts): 1. exile the skank, and 2. Have babies. Hurry up.

Couple Problems: Husband has control, he’s a social outcast. Think the swampy loser that everyone hated, but he’s king so everyone pretends he’s cool. According to Wikipedia, his method was ram it in and then just chill. No foreplay, no nothing. Dude just got hard and stuck it in and waited. That was an account from his fucking Doctor. That was Marie Antoinette’s fault too.

Numbnuts eventually figures out how vaginas work. And then: 2 miscarriages. Before the age of 20. 2/4 on kids. And one of the kids that lived dies in childhood.

Amazingly, a 14 year old brood-mare that married a 20 year old twat that can’t figure out how to fuck a hot chick that was thrown to him are bad at running an economy.

And what does history remember? “Let them eat cake.”

A phrase she didn’t fucking say.

Calling for Guillotines does not make you a revolutionary. You’re not virtuous or smart or observant. You’re a pawn that has been swept up by some one else’s rhetoric.

STOP APPLYING MODERN ETHICS TO HISTORICAL PEOPLE.

IF YOU’RE 20 AND JUST VOTED FOR THE FIRST TIME, YOU’RE OPINIONS NEED MORE TIME TO MARINATE. YOU HAVE NOTHING TO COMPARE EXISTENCE AGAINST. TALK TO ME WHEN YOU HAVE VOTED FOR A CANDIDATE THAT YOU NOW HATE.

Comrade Cunk

[moonstruckme]

Hi Mae! I was in a car accident yesterday (car took most of the damage, I’m ok other than bruises and sore muscles) and the whole thing has been a whirlwind of insurance and hospital and half asleep crying. I was wondering if I could request James potter x reader for comfort in a situation like that? I’m going through it rn lol hope you’re having a good day :)

Oh I'm sorry lovely! I had a very similar thing happen a little over a year ago, it's sooooo exhausting even when luckily no one is seriously hurt. Thanks for requesting, hope you're having a good/better day too <33

cw: past car accident, no details but talk of general aftermath of police questioning, insurance, etc.

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 799 words

The way James half-jogs up to the automatic doors of the hospital, seeming caught between walking and running, feels like someone is pressing down on the bruise of your chest. You wish you’d called him sooner. 

“James,” you call as he comes in, hating how your voice cuts through the taut quiet of the waiting area. It’s worth it for how his whole self softens when his eyes find you. 

He slows to a fast walk the rest of the way to you, the urgency slowly leaving him—which is appropriate, there is no urgency, everything has happened already—like an engine running out of gas. You stand as he nears, and both of you reach for each other before James hesitates. His hands stop midair, his brow tightening for a moment, before they come tentatively to your elbows.

“Hi,” he says, squeezing. “How bad is it?” 

“For me or the car?” you joke. 

“You.” James is feeling too earnest for joking, it seems. “Well, both of you. But you first.” 

You really thought you’d cry when you saw him. Worried you’d make a whole scene, blubbering and inconsolable, but you don’t seem to have any tears left. It makes sense, you suppose; you’ve cried a lot in the past few hours. First the slow, shaky kind right after getting out of your car, and then a real cry when a police officer had pulled you aside to get your version of events. (It had been embarrassing. She’d been nice about it, though.) Now, you wait for the tears to come, but for all your relief at seeing your boyfriend you feel rather dried up. 

It makes you wish, once again, that you’d called James sooner. You’d wanted to, of course, but you’d been nearly certain you’d be even less capable of holding yourself together if he were there, and there wasn’t much reason for him to be anyways. He was at work and you weren’t terribly hurt, so there was really nothing he could have done while you were talking to the police and the tow company and the paramedics and attempting not to drown in an overwhelm of insurance information. The only thing you really wanted him for was to hold your hand.

“I’m okay,” you say, the necessary preface. “A bit bruised up. My chest got the worst of it.” 

Unconsciously, your hand comes to your sternum as if to demonstrate, gravitating towards the center of the ache. James’ hand follows, seemingly just as thoughtless as it covers your own. He can’t see the bruise, but he makes a low, sad sound anyway. 

His care softens your voice. “They said my neck will probably hurt tomorrow, but it doesn’t yet.” 

“Oh, sweetheart.” James sounds really, truly heartbroken for you. “And the rest, it hurts a lot?” 

You shrug. What’s a lot? You know you could’ve had worse, much worse; still, you could do without that frightening soreness that comes with each breath. 

“It’s not too bad,” you say. “I could still hug.” 

It’s the question he’s been dying to ask, clearly. James’ arms are around you in a second, ardent but still gentle, palms pressing to the high and low points of your bag. It’s a good hug. You melt a little against him. 

James tucks his face into the side of your neck, like he’s trying to get as much contact with you as he can. “I wish you’d called me when it happened.” 

“You were at work.” 

“I’d have left work.” 

“There wasn’t anything you could do. I was fine, I just had to…” a little sigh escapes you, exhaustion creeping in now that he’s here “...talk to people. Insurance and all that.” 

James makes a soft, half-agreeing sound. His thumb strokes the base of your neck. “Still. I could have held your hand.” 

A new ache rises in the back of your throat, coming to join the rest. You wind your arms tighter around James. 

After a few, silent moments, he kisses your neck chastely and loosens his hold. “Ready to go home? Anything else you need?” 

You shake your head. “I’m signed out,” you say, so eager you feel like you could float out the doors. You hope you can entice James to lie in bed with you when you get home. You think you’ll sleep until tomorrow. “Let’s go, please.” 

“Alright, you don’t have to say please, sweetheart.” James curls an arm around your shoulders, pressing a smile into your cheek. “We can go. You need one of those wheelchairs for me to take you out to the car?” 

“Ha ha,” you say drily. “No.” 

“Just checking. Think maybe I ought to ask for one, just in case?”

“James. I will take your car home without you in it.” 

“Alright, lovie, I’m coming.”

[moonsnqil]

aftg au where neil/nathaniel died in baltimore and andrew knows he's dead, he didnt stop fighting until he had autopsy reports and a closed casket in front of him. andrew knows he died that night but a week later, a week spent rotting and shoving everyone away, he sees neil. blue eyes clear as water, his hair still glows in the sun, when andrew reaches out he knows none of this is real. neil josten is dead, matt has an empty dorm and someone is already adding nathaniel wesninski to a true crime podcast. he knows none of this is real but it's easier to accept a hallucination than it is to accept that he failed, that another person has been snatched away from him. so andrew goes to practice and sometimes he misses balls because neil is on the court aiming left but aaron shot right. he goes to edens and can feel neil's weight behind him as he carries the drink tray back to their table. he watches nicky play games on the xbox and he hears all of neil's commentary. when he's alone, he talks to neil. andrew had always been great at being silent but never with neil. and he knows none of this is real but it's easier to confide in neil now that he's so intimately familiar with his absence. they trade truths and secrets and neil tells him about oklahoma and andrew knows they never talked about oklahoma and he's just remembering a conversation he heard on disney channel when he was eleven. he lights two cigarettes and sees neil smoke it but doesn't dwell on how quickly the flame dies out. he only mentions it once, to bee. when he says "i keep seeing neil" and bee says she understands, people leave traces of themselves all around us, he never brings it up again. it's not like she's wrong on that front either. neil's locker still has an unwashed jersey inside, the phone charger he never used is still shoved somewhere underneath the passenger seat of the maserati, all the clothes andrew bought him are still in a drawer. matt doesn't spend a lot of time in his room anymore. when andrew says "i hate you" and he truly means it, neil says "i know" and his cheeks dimple. andrew knows this isn't normal, nothing about this is okay, his mental stability is a far cry from being good but he thinks maybe having neil beside him, haunting him like this, is better than a reality where andrew is alone. so they follow each other around like ducklings and wymack looks at him like he's a ticking time bomb because in no world does neil josten die and andrew simply moves on. andrew's nightmares have shifted from being seven and begging to watching neil fight for life on a grimy basement floor but it's okay because when he wakes up he gets to hold neils hand and it's a little cold but the divots between his knuckles feel the same as before so he can blame it on the weather. andrew watches neil's banner go up next to seth's on the court and andrew almost wants to laugh because seth is dead but neil is right here, neil is talking about being court, but no that's not right either. neil is dead, andrew knows this. but then how could neil be dead when he's still buying andrew ice cream and pushing all his buttons? they sit a little too close to the edge of the roof nowadays and neil tells him that they could fall but they might not die because it's only four stories so really it's no guarantee. neil tells andrew he has to be careful because what about aaron, what about kevin, his deals and his promises. he keeps his promises, it's what he's good at. he's pretty sure kevin knows something is wrong but is trying to pretend like it's not. they're the same in that regard, really. andrew knows neil is dead, abby's files label him as deceased, but he thinks he likes being haunted. if it means neil is still there, still planning a future and running his mouth, andrew thinks he could convince himself baltimore never happened. maybe neil was never something tangible to begin with.

[mintmatcha]

Inevitable Things : chapter twelve

aizawa x reader fic

cw: aizawa x reader, cisfem reader, office AU, no quirks, fingering

previous chapter | masterlist | next chapter

Sticky and wet. Your pants are sticky and wet. 

Pulling your panties up while still damp was a big mistake, you think as you walk back through the restaurant. The water you spilled in the restroom is all down your ass and is quickly cooling to an uncomfortable temperature, not to mention the absolute mess of cum and spit that's currently in the gusset of your panties-

And yet none of it manages to ruin your mood. 

Really, you should feel bad. Guilty, at the very least. You should be feeling bad about doing this to Touya, doing this in a public fucking space--

But, you don’t. Not in the slightest. No, you feel good. Better than you have in a very long time. There’s a levity in your step that you don't think you've ever had. It takes effort to tamp down your smile as you slide back into the table, adjusting your hair just in case. Your whole body is buzzing with post orgasm bliss, but you can't let Hizashi know that. 

“Oh my god, there you are!”  Hizashi slams his hands down and groans. “I thought you got lost!”

You never even got to pee. That’s a bit of a bummer, but you think it’s a worthy sacrifice. Fuck, you’ll never pee again if that's the alternative.

“There was a line,” you dismiss. God, you need to cum more often. This is great. Maybe you can masturbate tonight when you get back to the hotel room-

A tingle thrills up your spine as you remember the fact that you won't be alone tonight. No, Aizawa is coming back with you, putting that talented fucking mouth of his to good use. You should have tried this years ago; it certainly would have made work more tolerable. It would have made Aizawa more tolerable too.

 Fuck, you wish you could tell Hizashi that he was right; having fun is great. You had almost forgotten that being in love could be fun. 

Not that you're in love. That would be criminally insane. You're just high off of post orgasmic bliss. 

“Where did Aizawa go?” you ask, casually. Hizashi quirks a brow as he takes a sip of his drink. 

“Taking a call. Manufacturing had an issue, apparently.” 

“Again?” 

Manufacturing is always having an issue; it comes with the territory for biomedical companies. Production of the products is actually outsourced, including the computer chips needed for the bed. Most of the time, issues can be dealt with internally, but there are also times that it has to be elevated all the way to engineering. It’s a good lie, in theory, but Aizawa is going to have to explain why they are contacting a lead engineer and not someone lower on the food chain.

“Um,” you shift in your seat. The excitement inside you needs to come out or else you might explode.  “I got a text from the guy from last night.” 

“Shut up-- that’s why you were gone so long, huh? Sexting in the bathroom?”

Oh, he’d die if he knew the truth. Absolutely die.

“We weren’t sexting.” Not a lie! “But, I think I'm going to invite him over to my room tonight.”

Hizashi tilts his head down so he can look at you from over his glasses. It's a very Nemuri move, complete with her little smirk. 

“Are you gonna just make out again, or…?”

You tap your heels against the floor.

“No,” you hum, as innocently as possible. 

“No?”

“No, I--” Oh, you have to literally bite your tongue to kill your smile. It's like being sixteen again, giddy and giggly over nothing-  “I think I wanna do more.”

With a mouth like that, you might just let Aizawa do whatever he wants. Hell, you had asked to go slow, but now that you've had a taste, you don't know if you can keep the brakes on. You had forgotten how good it feels to be wanted, to be craved, to be touched… and Shouta seems determined to give you everything you need. 

 Hizashi physically reacts by grabbing the table and shaking it with a slack jawed amazement.

“Yes! Yes!” You have to grab your drink and Aizawa to stop them from spilling, but you're laughing all the while. “Good for you!”

“Hizashi, the waters!”

“Who is this guy?” Hizashi asks. “Is he cute? Is he nice?”

Is Aizawa cute? Not really. He's more… handsome than cute. Hardened, but soft. And he's certainly not nice. In fact, you’d label him as very not nice. Mean, even. Though, he did get you that sandwich this morning, which was really sweet. And he has those cats, which makes him a little softer than you first imagined-

“He's okay, I guess,” you settle on. 

Hizashi nods, a bit too solemn. It sets you on edge, the way he clams up as he watches you, eyeing up and down over and over. You can practically see the gears turning in his brain as he thinks.

“Shut up.”  He leans in on his elbows, sternly.  “It's Shouta, isn't it?”

Don't panic. You're pinned down, like a bug under glass, but you can't panic. Luckily, your brain is still stupidly swimming, so you're able to fight your institution and just stare back at him with what you hope is a bewildered glare.

“What.”

The man leans back and scoffs, then scoffs again, louder. His hand lies over his heart as if you've slapped him, indignant. The restaurant suddenly isn’t loud enough; you need the music to be turned up or for the crowd to get thicker to hide what’s about to come out of this man’s mouth.

“Oh my god, it's totally him! You’re totally boning!” 

Fuck. Double fuck. 

“I mean, you both just disappeared at the same time-”  Hizashi jolts up mid sentence. “Did you guys just fuck in the bathroom?! Oh my god, good for you! Is he good? He’s gotta be good-”

Oh, shit. Oh, damn. The room might be closing in on you actually. It's time to do what you do worst: lie. You push away from the table with a snort, lip curled up the way Aizawa's does.

“That's disgusting , Hizashi.” Oh, there’a vitriol in that. You almost smile out of pride, but you keep your cool. You have to-- you can't ruin this thing between you before it's even really started. “In a bathroom? With him? I'd rather die.” 

Your charade doesn’t seem to affect him.

“Oh, come on-” he laughs. “You're telling me you two don't have something going on? You both just magically found other people last night?”

“I wouldn't sleep with him if he was the last man on earth,” you insist.  “Aizawa is awful! Awful! Why would I ever-?”

A figure looms over you. “What did I walk into?”

Triple fuck. From someone who stomps most of the time, Aizawa certainly has a quiet step today. You swivel around, trying to flash a panicked look. Somehow, Aizawa seems to understand. His brow flickers up for a brief second, then returns to the usual unimpressed spot. Should you be worried that the two of you have figured out lying this easily? Usually, Touya just lies to you, not with you.

“Hizashi thinks we're sleeping together.” You wave a hand dismissively. You hope that no one else notices that Aizawa’s face is noticeably damp-- freshly washed.

“Ugh.” He rolls his head back as if he’s been slapped, sliding into the seat beside Hizashi. His foot bumps against you and you question if it’s on purpose. Is.. was that his good leg? Or the bad one? Maybe he’s kicking you accidentally.  “Her? What's wrong with you?”

Oh, ouch. That. Huh.

Logically, you know it’s just part of the lie you’ve started, but it still somehow stings. Rejection, even fake rejection, makes you ache. It falls too close to home, too close to Touya. (Not that you’re thinking about Touya tonight. No-- you’re allowing yourself to have fun. You’re forgetting him the same way he’s probably forgotten about you--)

 Swallowing down your pride, you adjust yourself in your seat, pulling on your still soaked pants-

“You aren't a prize either.” Again, your own bite surprises you. “I've been dealing with your shitty attitude for years and-”

“My shitty attitude? You're the one who stomps around when your boyfriend gets fired.”

Your jaw falls slack. Okay, you should be offended, but… there’s an edge of something attractive in the way his dark eyes narrow. The grit to his voice reminds you of moments ago, how he talks to you when you’re alone-

“That’s rich.” You’re watching his face. Oh, that sting? It’s changed. Now, there’s a simmering want inside you, begging to be fed. You need him mad, need him angry, need him riled up- “Where’s your girlfriend?”

There’s a freeze. Both men have mirrored expressions of surprise. Aizawa blinks, then tightens his expression. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, that’s right.” You lift your glass and pretend to inspect the liquid inside.  “You’ve been single since I’ve met you.”

Stunned, Hizashi opens his mouth to say something, but Aizawa beats him to the punch. He bends over the table with a glowering expression, those dark eyes boring into you. It reminds you of the fights you two had in office, but now that expression thrills you instead of terrifies.

“Oh, fuck you,” he seethes. “Sorry that I’m not whoring myself over the office with the interns.”

Oh, you kind of want to suck his cock right now. Obviously, you’ve always had a thing for red flags, but this is kind of ridiculous. He must have done something fucking magical or satanic to you pussy to make you act like this. Are you acting insane? You might be acting insane.

“Excuse me?” you ask through your teeth.

Oh, he’s riled up now, his eyes narrowed into slits. “ I saw those bruises you sucked into Kaminari.”

That steals a genuine laugh from you. Is that a genuine concern for him? You certainly hope not; Denki is… well, he’s Denki. He’s a sweet guy in his own regard, but you wouldn’t touch him with  a ten foot pole. He’s young and, clearly, you prefer older guys.

(Huh. That’s a new revelation for you. Touya is your age, but… There’s something unbelievably sexy about the grey at Aizawa’s temple, the wrinkles next to his eyes-)

“You think I’m fucking that kid? Fuck you.”

“Fuck you.”

Oh, you hope he does. You hope he absolutely ruins you. 

“Fuck-”

“Okay, okay,” Hizashi interrupts you, arms spread as if keeping you both from leaping over the table. “You people! What happened to the truce?”

“You happened!” 

Somehow the rest of dinner goes well. Hizashi makes sure the conversation steers towards work and his plans for the night. You do have to give the wait staff an extra big tip-- Hizashi may have said ‘butt plug’ a bit too loudly for the poor guy’s comfort.  

Occasionally, Shouta looks your way. He ponders a bit too long on your features, has a bit too much of a smile on his face. His leg bumps against your again, a silent reminder that he’s there. Honestly, thank god that Hizashi was convinced by your lies, because this man is being obvious.

And frankly, you’re living for it. 

You’re still vibrating with excitement by the time you all leave together. He’s coming back to your room tonight, coming back for more. You might be getting addicted to this feeling, addicted to being wanted, to cumming on someone’s tongue-

Maybe you should throw caution to the wind and fuck him.

Oh, that thought sends a chill up your spine. It’s been so long since you’ve been filled. Sex always came with anxiety before, but now, you might be excited. Especially when Aizawa’s cock seems so fucking thick-

“You all ready for tomorrow?” Hizashi’s voice shocks you out of your thoughts. God, you’re worse than him! One orgasm and you’ve devolved into a needy pervert. 

Aizawa groans, pressing his thumbs into his temples. The hotel lobby buzzes with life as you all enter. The tiles seems to get more dazzling at night, blue illuminated by the dangling chandeliers and air of excitement. 

 “No. It’s going to be a long night.”

Hizashi elbows his friend’s side. “No mysterious girl for you tonight, huh? Too busy studying?”

Aizawa is starkly quiet for a long moment, mouth screwed tight as if the question upset him. You almost worry that he’s considering it-- that he’s going to go back to his room  without you, and dread sets into your bones. The need has already built back up inside you, anticipation tingling all the way to your fingers. It’s a little alarming, how quickly you’ve gotten addicted to the idea of fucking him, to cumming with him-

Aizawa shrugs away your worries. “I’ll find time.”

Internally, you cheer.

“Aw, you dog. Now- Do I need to supervise you two?” Hizashi teases as he turns on his heel, walking backwards into the hall.  “Escort you to your rooms so you don’t murder each other in the elevator?”

“I think we’ll manage,” you say as you press the button. Hizashi leaves and the two of you are left in silence.

The elevator door rumbles closed behind you two after you both set in. Aizawa shifts back against the wall with a sigh, barely audible over the gentle muzak. He looks tired, but in a different way than usual: a gentle, content exhaustion, one that wears well on his features, but doesn’t deepen the creases on his brow. It suits him much more than the usual, miserable look he has. 

“I should stop by my room before-” Aizawa starts.

You press off of the wall and close the distance between you. It doesn't matter what he was going to say, because you weren't going to listen anyway. Instead, you press yourself up on to your toes and catch his lips mid sentence, moving fast and sure enough that you catch him completely off guard. You can feel his surprise in his inward gasp as you force him back against the cold steel wall. There's a moment of hesitation -shock, you realize gleefully- before he caves into you, hands on your waist dragging you in until your hips press against his. 

The quiet gives you space to enjoy the tiny moments he gives you: the hitch in his breath when you hold him tighter, the rumble in his chest when your teeth close around his lower lip, the sound of fabric against fabric as his hands drift lower and his hands grip your ass- 

“You really piss me off,” he mumbles into you. “You get off on lying, don’t you?”

Only with him, you think. Only with you. The door dings open and you loosen your grip, but Aizawa holds firm, holds tight. 

“Aizawa,” you mumble into his lips, but he just keeps going. “Ai-”

Another peck shuts you up for a moment. 

“Shouta!”

Finally, he reacts and lets you go, his touch trailing on you for just a moment longer. You have to jut out an arm to stop the door from closing again.

“Listen-”  he exhales. “I am going to my room. I’m going to shower, brush my teeth, then come to you. Okay?”

More than okay. Perfect. Excellent. Ideal. 

“Okay.” You try to play it cool, but his nose wrinkles in delight at the tremble in your voice. “I’ll be waiting.”

 Stepping out of the elevator, you glance behind one last time. It feels like you should say something, give him a goodbye, but instead you just watch the doors close in silence. His eyes never leave you, staring with a silent, hungering desire.

You might have to fuck him. 

Back in your room, you do the same as him. You brush your teeth, rinse the day off of your body, and contemplate yourself in the fogged reflection of the mirror. The buzzing in your skin is either anxiety or excitement, maybe a bit of both, but you can’t stop riding the high that comes with them. Being wanted feels good, too good, impossibly good- so good that you’re afraid it’s about to be taken away.

Logically, it will be. This… thing must have a terminating point somewhere. There’s no possible way that the two of you continue this into the workplace, is there? Everything ends at some point, everyone leaves eventually-

No. Focus. Have fun. Focus on having fun.

You didn’t pack any perfume, so you hope the hotel body wash smells alluring enough. Your hair still looks okay enough that you don’t need to bother styling it- but you still try to, just a bit. It’s normal to want to look nice, to smell soft, to be soft, but there’s also an embarrassment to wanting to be pretty. You hadn’t felt it before, but now, you’re suddenly concerned about the curves of your body and how it sits differently than you want. He’s seen most of you before, and yet you’re now caught up in the imperfections. Which underwear did you pack again? Nothing sexy, that’s for sure. Only skin tone bras too. Fuck-- you don’t actually know if you own anything enticing. 

Do you even own anything sexy?

What clothes should you even wear for him anyway? I’d be strange to put your clothes back on, right? What about pajamas? What will he be wearing? Hopefully not that fucking yellow sweatshirt he works in. You find yourself pacing around the room in only your towel, tidying up and trying to decide what the best option is. Maybe just a shirt? Like Winnie the Pooh?

No, that’s stupid. Ugh, you wish you were someone like Nemuri, someone bold and sexy and confident--

What would Nemuri do?

The dreaded knock at the door stocks you from your worry. You make a quick decision; turning out all of the lights, you tiptoe to the front door and peer out the peephole. Yes, it’s him, dressed in a simple white shirt, dark hair freshly washed. His expression is unreadable, as usual, but perhaps on the brink of anxious. 

Why would he be nervous? The thought makes you giggle. Maybe, just maybe, he’s just as jittery as you are over this-

But you doubt it.

Before you lose your nerve, you open the door, still in your towel. Aizawa’s eyes widen just a bit, then narrow with a keen excitement.

“Am I too early?” he teases.

“No,” you reply, “Just in time.”

And you let your towel drop.

A beat passes before he reacts. Aizawa’s jaw literally drops. Before you can revel in the satisfaction, he’s crowding you again, hands ghosting over your body as if he can’t decide where to touch first. His shirt is rough against your bare skin and you’re suddenly very aware of how your nipples have pearled up. The hotel’s air conditioning is rolling, much colder than you’d ever make your home, and your skin is goosepimpling under it, but you’re still so hot, so warm-

“Oh god,” he whispers, breathy, barely sane. “Look at you.”

The first kiss is wild, breath stealing, rough- it forces you back a step, just far enough that the door slams closed and leaves you in the dark. His touch has settled on your chest, cupping your tits up between his fingers in a boyish way, one that's so much less precise than his usual way of loving you. 

“God-” he says again. “God-”

Suddenly, his lips are gone and you can feel him hunched over you, breath hot against your tits. The gentle tug of teeth scares a gasp out of you, then floods your body with heat.

“I want to see you,” Aizawa's mouth closes around your nipple for a second, his spit cooling almost instantly. ”I want to touch you-” 

His hand wraps around your thigh and squeezes. Your body burns hot, your core tight, cunt wet- Hotel darkness, with the curtains drawn, feels deeper than home. Only the red numbers of the clock illuminate the nightstand. You can't see how he moves, how he looks, but you can feel it--

And you want to feel more, more, more, as much as he'll give you.

“Touch me,” you beg. “Please.’

He drops to his knees with a quick, labored exhale. Fuck- his leg. He’s already kissing the lower round of your stomach, trailing down to the curve of your mons, taking his sweet, sweet time. 

“Aizawa-” Your hands run through his hair and gently urge him back, but he just presses on, pulling your knee over his shoulder- “Your leg-”

He's not listening. He's too busy nudging your legs apart, bumping his shoulder into your knee until it gives to him. For the second time that night, Aizawa puts his mouth on you. This time, he inhales, embarrassingly deep. 

“Ah-” the sound escapes you involuntarily. “Don't-- don't smell me.” 

The hot press of tongue ignites something inside you, something innate. Your hips buck on their own, the ridge of his nose bumping against your still swollen clit. After earlier, your pussy is still puffy and well loved, and the pressure sends your spine straight. 

“I should have shaved-” you babble. His arm has looped around your supporting leg.  “I'm sorry, I should have-”

In the dark, every touch feels more. More powerful, more potent, more smoldering: his hand is drifting up, under your ass and in, in, in-

When his fingers join his tongue, spreading your cunt open wider from behind.

“God-” Your brain is soup, stewing in its own electric pleasure. You can feel the chill of his inhales again and it's all you can do to whine, to push away his forehead- “God, don't smell me-”

“Shut the fuck up.”  He rips his mouth away from you and you can feel his eyes staring up in the dark. “Just-- shut up and take it.”

Your jaw clamps shut. Aizawa’s back on you, huffing and sucking greedily. Every muscle in your body is perking and clenching, your knee wobbling. His hand digs into your ass, dragging you so firmly against him that his nose bridge digs into your skin. The way he kisses at you is overwhelming; it feels like he’s pulling pleasure out of you, dragging it out hand over hand like it's attached to a string-

You want to cry or plead or curse or something. but Aizawa’s stolen your words from you, so all you can do is silently whine. 

It's too much, it's not enough, it's-

His free hand is suddenly on your cunt, a finger pressing up and into you. The sensation shocks a gasp out of you. It's not a lot, but it's been so long since anything been inside you; the sensation only worsens your needs, tightens the want-

A second finger slides in. There's a stretch and you suddenly feel drunk, like the room has tilted on its axis. 

You're going to fuck this man. You have to fuck this man. You might go insane if you don't get that cock inside you.

When you cum, it flushes every inch of your skin with a lumbering heat, like he's raking you over coals. It's ugly and brutal, it almost brings you to your knees, but Shouta holds you steady. He doesn't miss a beat, still lapping at your folds like he needs you to live.  

It's horrendous. It's torturous. The air punches out of your body as he strokes your already overworked clit. Tension bunches in every muscle, pulling you over him, hunched and panting. Your fingers claw at his scalp, tug his hair, but Shouta doesn't stop.

“I came-” you protest, voice climbing higher than ever. “I came, I came-- aa--”

He pulls away to speak.

“I know.” His fingers curl and press into you again, right against a deep spot. “Do it again.”

And he's on you again.This time, he’s more forward, aggressive with how he licks and suckles. It's no longer hungry-- it's mean. It doesn't coax pleasure from you, it forces.  

“I can't,” you whine. Every flick of tongue shocks more pleasure from you, burning through your cunt deep into your gut. You're boneless, you're stiff, you're wobbling-

 “I can't, I can't-”

Aizawa rests his cheek against your thigh, his fingers working harder and harder. It’s much more intense in the dark, where the only thing you can focus on is the feeling and the sound of his fingers squelching into you.

“You can-” He insists into your skin. He kisses the crease of your leg.  “Let go.”

“I can't-”

Oh, a pressure is building inside you, one that's rolling and rabid. You think you might literally be drooling, but you can't tell anymore; all you can think about is his fingers drilling into your pussy, urging faster-

“I can't.” 

He's not telling you to shut up anymore. He just says, firmly: “You can.”

And you do. 

It's a lift, that moment where gravity forgets you when the roller coaster crests the hill. There's nothing, blissful nothing, a weightless second where you can finally pull in a full breath. Maybe this is it, maybe you’ll never fall-

Then, it crashes. 

You think you might have gone blind for a moment. Stars flicker over your vision and your brain just can't keep up. Earlier, he compared it to a computer resetting and you suddenly understand exactly what he meant like that: your body slumps over as if he's pulled your batteries out. Aizawa has to pull his hands from you and brace to stop the both of you from tumbling over. 

“Hey now,” he grunts. “Do not fall.”

“Shut--shut up,” you manage to say, still all twitches and kicks. There’s… you’re.. There’s a lot going on right now and you can’t pull your brain together enough to process any of it. For a blissfully long time, you just are: no thoughts, no doubts, no worries. 

When you finally catch yourself, Aizawa’s still down on his knees, patting your flank in silent support.

“Are you alright?” His cheeks are dreadfully wet with you, caught in his stubble 

“No,” you whine. “I think I died.”

He pats the side of your thigh again. “You're fine. Help me up.”

Oh, shit. His leg. You pull yourself together enough to stand on your own. Your thighs rub together with their own wet and you’re horrified at the amount of it all. It’s down to your fucking knees. God, you didn’t even think you could do that. Blindly, you reach into the dark and take Aizawa’s hand, hoisting him off of the floor.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“Peachy. I’m just old.” He pulls on your hand and brings you closer. When his lips find yours, your own taste shocks a gasp out of you. His face is as wet as your legs, stubble gritting against your chin. It’s surprisingly gentle and affectionate, as if he didn’t just change your fucking life with his tongue.

“I should get you a towel or something,” you say as you pull away.

Aizawa snorts, his grip on you only tightening. You try to imagine the look on his face. Maybe he’s licking the ridge of his teeth, maybe he’s glowering. Maybe he’s smiling, looking down at you with that almost loving affection.  “You don’t think we’re done, do you?” 

Uh oh.

Uh oh.

In the dark, he pushes you backward, both of you blindly bumping into walls and the edge of the tv stand.  Each bump and bruise steal a giggle out of you and him, but the laughter does nothing to diffuse the want you feel emanating from his touch. Eventually, the back of your legs hits the soft down of the bed and you pause, trying to hold him a bit farther away and failing. You had forgotten that he’s still fully dressed; his belt buckle is frigid against your skin.

“Shouta, my legs are shaking.” Your hands find the bottom of his shirt, fumbling with the edge. Maybe you can distract him, give yourself time to recover. “I can’t take anymore.”

Shouta is mirroring your motions, running his fingers across the soft of your stomach. The touch makes you feel shy and you wiggle away from the touch. Technically, he’s seen you completely naked, but touching feels like a deeper sense of knowledge, especially in the dark. 

“Two orgasms?” He squeezes your side again. “That’s really all it takes?” 

“Three…” you remind.

“Two.” He’s firm. “The second one doesn’t count.”

The air conditioning rushes back on and you nearly shiver. The heat of your orgasm still warms your cheeks, but you’re still naked, still exposed. “Why not?”

“Wasn’t big enough.”

“Felt big.”

He clicks his tongue against his teeth.  “You poor, neglected thing.” 

Hands find your shoulders and push, knocking you back on to the mattress with an ‘oof’. The bed shifts under his weight and you can feel him there, hovering over you in the dark, just a breath away. All you can do is lay there and try to make out the shapes of him. The red glow of the alarm clock catches his eye and you suddenly know he’s watching you, probably searching for your way in the same way.

“What-?”  you breathe. “What are you gonna do with me?”

You don’t know what you want the answer to be, but you aren’t expecting a chuckle. 

“I’m going to do-”  Shouta breathes, deep and dark and hungry, closer to a growl than a whisper. “Whatever I want.”

[marta-bee]

I love so much about this, and hope the OP won't be bothered if I yes-and a bit.

Fanfic is a great tool for leaning about what works for you, erotically. I'm seriously fighting the urge to go into a long digression on all the very smart people who recognized the erotic as a way to knowing God. It's about desire and ecstasy and getting past the way our limited human reason can see the world and Whoever lies behind it. And even if you don't buy all that, there's certainly nothing sinful about better understanding yourself and having a bit of fun along the way that doesn't hurt anyone. (It really is okay to just get off now & then and have that be the end of it.) I'm sorry your community makes that harder.

What fanfic is not, though, is sex education. It's fantasy and fiction, which is wonderful on its own but it's usually aiming for something other than real-word sex ed. The good news is, there are lots of adults who feel shortchanged by the sex ed they got in school, and some of them have created resources to help people educate themselves.

If you feel comfortable reading that stuff (& if you can do it safely without other people seeing you looking at it if you don't want them to), Scarleteen was the gold standard at one point. Planned Parenthood also has a whole website for this, Sex Ed To-Go. I'm sure there are others.

Good luck!

So I’m a minor (16 to be specific) and I frequently watch and read stuff with explicit sexual or 18+ content in it. I live in an extremely conservative Christian household and things like explicit fanfic are pretty much the only option I have for learning about sex that isn’t abstinence only. I do feel bad about it, especially when I see adults online say stuff like “oh i watched lots of inappropriate things as a teen that i really shouldn’t have” and it makes me feel like I’m ruining myself in a way that I won’t realize until I’m an adult? Right now I don’t see what the big deal is but i get the feeling that when i’m 24 or something I’ll wake up one day and be ashamed of this for some reason i’m not mature enough to know yet. Should I just stop and wait until I’m 18 to continue or what?

hi anon,

okay. I'm gonna hit you with something:

turning 18 does not actually change the way you feel about porn or sex or anything. the difference between being seventeen and 364 days and being 18 is nonexistent. there's not a magical switch that changes you as a person; that comes from lived experience. if you're 18 and your experience is still that porn and smut and what have you i something that you should feel bad about, it's still going to feel that way and a birthday won't change that.

look, the whole notion of "I saw [x] that I shouldn't have when I was young" is like. okay. so you saw something that was a little mature for you that you didn't quite get? awesome. did you die? no. most people's hangups about sexuality don't come from seeing a rogue titty when they were a teenager, they come from the culture that person was raised in that made seeing a rogue titty feel like something to be ashamed of instead of a completely natural part of life.

story time! when I teach my 4th-6th grade OWL classes (Our Whole Lives, great human development program) I always start by holding a meeting with the kids' parents. I've been doing this for seven years, and every time without fail some of the parents will recall seeing porn for the first time as a kid. these guys were kids when printed porn magazines were still a thing, so they were discovering them in all kinds of places - the bedrooms of their parents or their friends' parents, at bus stops, in the woods, once even stowed in some farm equipment. and they remember it feeling illicit and exciting, sure, and possibly making them confused or even horny for the first time in their young lives, but like... that's it. none of these people are irreparably damaged by seeing porn. in fact, they've grown up to be the kind of people who go out of their way to make sure their young kids are enrolled in a queer-friendly, body-positive, diversity-embracing sex ed class to counter stereotypes and misinformation they might receive elsewhere.

looking at things that arouse you is morally neutral. it can be a great way to help you learn about what turns you on, and even if it's not the best source of factual, realistic depictions of sex, it can still help you discover things - hell, I only figured out what the clitoris was by reading Young Justice fanfic (shout out Snaibsel).

you can't ruin yourself, at any age, with the media you like to consume. what makes you uncomfortable and anxious is the attitude you've been taught to have about that media, which is something that has to be actively unlearned, because it's certainly not going to just disappear on its own when you become a legal adult.

tl;dr obviously no one is making you watch porn and you shouldn't if it makes you uncomfortable, but if you drop it right now and come back when you're 18 don't expect to feel any different if you haven't done any more unpacking re: the conservative Christianity of it all.