#casually vague blogging here

[dransnake]

hot take: i should be allowed to be silly in non-competitive situations

[ablednt]

In general though it's nigh impossible figuring out your support needs and where the fuck you fall on anything when you're an abuse survivor because you were always forced to be whatever your abuser(s) wanted you to be.

Like even my therapist thinks I'm so well spoken and fine and barely need help but I'm over here in hell trying to push myself to exhaustion because I never learned to rest I never learned to recognize where I need help

[bogkeep]

being in aroace education mode has me all fired up...... one thing i talk about a lot when given the opportunity is Deconstructing How We Think About Relationships - in short, if we put all of our relationships with other people into a pie chart the 'romantic partner' slice is likely to be a very small slice but gets a disproportionate amount of Relationship Infrastructure compared to other categories, such as vocabulary, rituals, attention and narrative scaffolding - entire systems such as dating / finding "the one" / break-ups / the relationship escalator, etc. on the flipside, 'friend' is such a vast category consisting of a plethora of different relationship, all ranging from Friendly Acquantaince to Extremely Close Childhood Friend You Share Everything With, but we have a lot less language and structure for how we think about these relationships even though many of them can be deeply important and intense to us.

the line between romance and friendship is really blurry, maybe even non-existent, but it feels like the way we think about these categories is that Romantic Partner is this one very specific, formalised box of a category, while Friend is a vast and vague landscape where anything can happen - and it's on this free real estate we have built structures like Queerplatonic Partner. the concept has probably existed since forever, along with many other different types of relationships throughout time and cultures, but it's our current attempt at having a Word for it.

are you with me so far? i want to write a blog post about Deconstructing Intimacy.

just putting a CW here that i'm going to say the word sex a lot and touch on the topic of sexual trauma.

one of the very thorny things about This Whole Topic is that sex and sexuality is extremely political. we just do not live in a world where there's any neutral ground to stand on regarding sex. every demographic comes with a lot of assumptions and expectations and moral judgement tied to sexuality. some demographics are desexualised, some are hypersexualised, some are Both At Once, and in addition to that there's lots of stigma, moralizing, pathologizing, and lawmaking. just a whole mess.

so all of That makes it kind of impossible to fully Dethrone Sex. and by dethroning sex i mean stripping it of the baggage it's accumulated in our cultures. Sex Is A Thing You Can Do With Your Body (And Your Mind?). this does not have to make it any less or more meaningful to you than what it already is. what each person considers intimate is very individual. many people find hugging completely inconsequential and will hug anyone at any time, and for some people a hug is A Lot. For some people, sex is a very fun and casual activity, and for others it's Sacred and carries a lot of meaning and a very close bond. sex is intimate - it requires trust and vulnerability.

it is not the only way to achieve trust and closeness, nor the only thing that requires it.

whenever i take the bus somewhere, i trust the bus driver to take me there safely. i put my literal life in a stranger's hands, but it's a very casual affair i don't think about too much. it's not an act of intimacy, just someone doing their job.

i think the way we talk about sexual assault as the evillest most horribly irredeemably worse-than-death thing, and sexual trauma as a unique kind of trauma amongst traumas, is... indicative. and please do not get me wrong, SA is a horrible thing in every way. it's a violation of trust, vulnerability and personal space. it's an abuse of power. those are the things that make it so horrific - but it's not unique.

an abuse of power, a violation of trust and vulnerability, can happen in so many different forms. emotional abuse, non-sexual violence, medical abuse, et cetera - i don't think it's possible to place trauma into a hierarchy from least to most bad. trauma can be incredibly complex and it's different for everyone. if one day the bus driver on a whim decided to drive off a cliff, i think that would severely fuck up my ability to trust other people to drive me around. if i trusted someone with my innermost thoughts that i have never shared with anyone else, and they used them to be cruel to me, that would severely impede my ability to connect with others.

i just... don't think it does anyone any favours to separate sexual trauma from all other trauma - making it seem like sexual trauma is The Worst Trauma Possible You Can Never Heal From, and on the flipside, make it seem like Well Your Non-Sexual Trauma Cannot Possibly Be That Bad.

TRAUMA TOPIC ASIDE, i think the concept of intimacy has a tendency to get flattened into just the one kind. there are many, Many ways for people to be intimate, many activities that require some form of mutual vulnerability or physical contact, but it seems like we're just very used to placing Acts of Intimacy into the Sexual category. kind of like a venn diagram where the two circles are Sexual Intimacy and Non-sexual Intimacy that are largely overlapping. but what if, instead, it's more that Intimacy is a really big circle, and sex is just one of the circles within it?

the way i think this slots into the whole Relationship Infrastructure thing is that We Like To Categorize Things. if we see two people being very intimate in a way that's not explicitly sexual, it's tempting to think ah yes they are in love AND they're having sex, OBVIOUSLY, because they are clearly capable of having that level of trust and vulnerability together. but what if they're not? does that devalue their relationship? does it make them any less close? these are very chewy questions to ask even without bringing shipping discourse into it, and i would prefer Not To because sexuality is political and there is no right answer.

another way this flattening can be frustrating is all the times non-sexual intimacy is treated as Sexual By Proxy. let's say, for example, you're telling a story, and all forms of intimacy within that story get read as metaphors for sex, despite your actual intentions. there's nothing wrong with using metaphors for sex, especially since Sex Is Political and sometimes we gotta be clever about the storytelling - but it can get very messy if people read sexuality between characters who don't have that, especially characters between which it would be very problematic to portray that. we gotta be able to tell stories about all kinds of close relationships, and surely it should be possible without bringing freud into it at every turn.

intimacy is context-dependent, i would say. a moment of vulnerability can be platonic or romantic or sexual or maybe something else depending on a situation and all the factors involved. human connection is an boundless spectrum, not just a couple boxes.

did any of this make sense? they're just my Thoughts, i'm not a scholar on this i just

[straykeedz]

day 12: hyunjin + marking

©straykeedz

tw: mention of masturbation (m); oral sex (f receiving); fingering (f receiving); hints at cheating (reader); unprotected piv sex (don't do this at home 🤨); ♡

wc: 2,1k;

not too kinky lol sorry - but honestly as i was writing this i came up with an idea for a future fic 👀

this is part of my kinktober masterlist. you can find my regular masterlist here (tho it will not be updated until the end of kinktober) ♡

🔖 (open): @linos-kitten ; @luneskies ; @kxcies-blog ; @idunnomanmynamewastaken ; @cessixja ; @stolasisyourparent ; @kookiesbunny ; @xoxo-xoxo-bunny ; @ivyskzsworld ; @mal-lunar-28 ; @leetaste ; @sunnykynnie ; @channiesgoodgirl ; @seonghwatoothless ; @mrsminho ; @seungminluv3 ; @jin-from-the-block ; @aaasia111 ; @sulkygyu ; @whosanaanyway ; @y-ur--I ; @vixensss ; @nightimescapes ; @freckleboilix ; @dreamingaboutjisung ; @yourbeomiebear ; ♡

to make sure i add you to the taglist, your age must be clearly visible on your profile. also, empty blogs will not be added - add at least a profile picture to your blog so that i’ll know you’re not a bot. ♡

smut below the cut, minors dni.

✐

Hyunjin liked to think of the human body as a canvas. 

A big, blank canvas ready to be used, decorated, customized, adorned in every way possible. Personally, he loved to decorate his in a less drastic and permanent way than with tattoos or piercings - even though he found it extremely attractive and badass on others. He loved to personalize his body using all kinds of jewelry - necklaces, chains, rings, bracelets, sometimes chokers. Then, he loved to put makeup on - just a plain dark brown eye-shadow on his lid, messily blended with a black eye-pencil using the pads of his fingers to give his look a smudge effect; finally, he loved to paint his nails, usually opting for a dark brown or a pitch black color. 

However, since he met you, he found out he also liked another type of decoration on his skin - the signs you’d leave on his back with your nails when he’d fuck you. 

He discovered it casually.

It happened one day when he was looking at his naked figure through the mirror right before taking a hot shower - and he saw them. Faint pink on his chest and abdomen, bright red on his shoulders and back. Irregular shapes drawn by your fingernails on his skin while you were under him - although the ones on his spine vaguely resembled of a heart in his eyes, but he might’ve been biased. He got hard once again when he noticed the marks, and had to relieve himself in the shower, imagining your fingers on his skin once again.

Memories of what had happened moments before underneath his sheets, when you begged him to fuck you harder, to don’t stop, to keep thrusting like that kept running through his head, and he found himself getting hard once again, despite the two orgasms he’d had between your legs. 

To him, it was like having proof, directly on his skin, therefore clearly visible - that what you had was true, and not just a projection of his own imagination. It was real - you had been under him, him all over you, inside of you, your nails on the skin of his back, scratching it as he thrusted relentlessly, body pressed tightly against yours. 

Then, as soon as you both finished, it was all gone. You were gone. 

That’s all he was left with - an empty bed and a few marks on his pale skin. 

But the marks on his skin made everything real even though you weren’t there with him, and from that moment on, he never wanted them to fade away. The next time you fucked, he practically begged you to scratch his back with your nails - begged you to do it hard. 

You thought it was because he liked pain during sex when really - all he wanted was for them to last longer on his skin. 

Right now, he was giving you oral. Kissing your pussy with passionate reverence, dragging his plump lips all over the surface of your cunt, brushing you skin so delicately it made you shiver, nose bumping sweetly on your sensitive clit each time. And then he licked your lips, those lips, placing his tongue flat on you before he started lapping at it before closing his lips around your clit. 

Hyunjin was good at many things, but never the best at anything - that’s how he felt about himself. However, he firmly believed his oral giving skills were pretty much incomparable, not to brag - and he was confident you’d never find anyone else who’d appreciate your pussy more than him. And it wasn’t really because he loved pussy - which he did -, it was more because he was crazy about you and he had no other way to show you except for sex. 

Hyunjin kept sucking on your clit as he brought his fingers to your pussy, ready to slip two of them inside of you, and as his digits slowly made their way inside of you, your fingernails ended up on his shoulder, making him whimper. 

“Hyunjin…”, your nails felt like claws on his skin, and he was sure you were going to leave marks on his shoulders, and he couldn’t wait to see them reflected on his bathroom mirror, see which irregular, abstract shapes you’d drawn on his body this time. 

Maybe it was the artistic side of his personality that made him do it - but he’d snap a couple of pictures of the signs you’d leave on his body every time, and kept them in a secret folder on his phone.

He sucked harder on your clit, swirling his hot, wet tongue around it as he moved his fingers inside of you just how he knew you liked it. With his other hand, with which he was making sure your legs’d stay spread out for him, he parted your labia, exposing your clit even more to make sure he’d reach every single spot with his tongue. 

“I’m so close, Hyunjin.”, you moaned, moving your hand from his shoulder to his hair, running your fingers through it.  

It took him a few more sucks on your sensitive spot to make you reach your high, his name falling from your lips like a prayer as you clenched around his fingers, toes curling as you tugged at his hair. He took his time with cleaning you up, licking your orgasm off of your skin, swallowing it and humming at the taste - he could never get enough of it. 

Then, something inside of his head snapped. He moved his lips from your pussy to your groin, not wanting to overstimulate you and wanting you to give you the time to come off from your high properly, and placed a delicate, wet kiss on the soft flesh. Then, he sucked and added his teeth to the mix. 

He wanted to give you something to remember him from, too. He knew he could never do something like that on any other part of your body, knowing you’d get in trouble if anyone noticed the signs on your skin, so he had no other choice than to leave them there.

“Hyunjin, what are you-“, you stopped yourself mid-sentence before realizing what he had in mind. “Hyunjin, you can’t.”

He detached his mouth from your skin, then looked at you through his eyelids - eyes absolutely dark with lust and pussy drunk. “Just a couple.”, he pleaded, leaving a chaste kiss on the faint mark that had appeared on your skin. A shiver ran through his body at the sight. “They’re easier to hide here.”, he caressed your inner thigh with his knuckles. 

“But what if he…”, you didn’t finish the sentence, but he knew what you meant to say anyway. 

The thought pained Hyunjin, but he knew he couldn’t really say anything. He nodded, chest heavy, but he knew he had to respect your decision. He wanted to think you were his and only his, that no other people were involved, and that what you had was real and went beyond pure sexual satisfaction, but he couldn’t. You could - leave marks on his body, in any place you wanted, scratch him, bite him, anything you wanted. He couldn’t. 

“Maybe just… a couple.”, you whispered after a few instants, twisting one lock of his hair around your finger. 

His head snapped in your direction, and he looked absolutely caught off-guard. “Are you sure?”, he wanted to make sure you wanted it too and weren’t just agreeing on this because you felt pressured. 

“Mh-hm.”, you hummed, nodding. “Just- don’t bite too hard. They’ll be easier to cover.”, you explained. 

He nodded, and then his lips were on you once again. Lips brushing softly against you, before he latched his mouth on the soft flesh. He sucked lightly, not using his teeth yet, only his tongue to wet your skin to ease the friction. He hummed against your skin when his teeth gently scraped your skin, not properly biting your flesh - just like you asked him, but it was enough to make you moan. He pulled away to look at the work of art he’d left on your skin - the mark was much more visible now, but nothing that a good concealer and some powder wouldn’t hide. He really wished you wouldn’t, tho. If it were for him, if you were his, he’d mark you all over your skin and wouldn’t even want you to hide them. In fact, he’d make you show them off proudly, so it’d be crystal clear to anyone that you were his.

“Mine.”, he grunted under his breath, the adjective slipping out of his mouth automatically, before he could stop himself as he latched his mouth on your groin once again, this time a bit higher. He hoped you hadn’t heard him. 

You had, but you didn’t say anything. 

Those hickeys looked insanely good on you, Hyunjin thought once he pulled away to admire the two marks on your skin. He wished he could leave more, but he was already grateful enough you’d let him leave those two. 

“They look good on you.”, he whispered, brushing them with his fingers, not tearing his eyes off of them. 

“Mh, they do.”, you agreed. You wrapped your fingers around his wrist, making him snap his head in your direction to look you in the eyes. “Maybe if you fuck me right, just how I like it, I’ll let you leave more next time.”, you whispered sensually, biting your lip. 

The thought make his cock twitch for two reasons. Firstly, because the eventuality of sucking another hickey on your skin was nearly enough to make him come untouched; secondly, because of the implication in what you’d said - that he’d get to be with you again, that he’d get to have you once more.

“I fuck you right every time, tho, don’t I?” Hyunjin chuckled, positioning himself between your legs, aligning the tip of his cock to your entrance as he pressed his body on yours. 

“You’re right, you do.”, you giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him in for a kiss. “You always fuck me so well.”, you whispered on his lips, and his cock throbbed once again. 

Slowly, he started to push inside, closing his eyes and parting his lips as he bottomed out. Then, once he made sure you’d adjusted to the feeling, he started to rock his hips to meet yours - slowly at first and then faster and faster. Panting, he hooked one arm under one of your legs, the new position allowing him to sink even deeper inside of you. 

Now it was your turn to latch your mouth on the skin of his neck. Even though you’d left plenty of marks on his back, this was new, but you could tell Hyunjin definitely liked it. You sucked on his skin, biting and licking his soft flesh for a few seconds before pulling away - the mark was much brighter than the ones he left on you. You bit your lip at the sight, and decided to leave another one, this time on his collarbone, as your hands found their way to his shoulders and back. 

Hyunjin let out an embarrassingly deep sound when he felt your nails on his skin, and snapped his hips faster, hitting the right spot every time. 

“Harder.”, he moaned when you scratched his back. He wanted those marks not to fade, he wanted them to stay on his skin for as long as possible, until he saw you again. He wanted something to remember, something to prove that it wasn’t just a fantasy. 

Each time you scratched his skin, practically sticking your nails in his flesh, he thrusted harder inside of you. 

“Hyunjin.”, you moaned, kicking your head back, exposing your neck and collarbone. Oh, how he wished he could suck a beautiful, red mark right there, for everyone to see… “Close.”

You came with a high pitched sound, and he followed you not too long after, with an animalistic grunt and your nails on his skin, releasing inside of you. 

That night, when he went to take a shower - he wasn’t imagining it. As he looked over his shoulder to see your marks on his skin, he couldn’t believe his eyes, and bit his lip at the sight, because this time there really was a heart on his skin. A big, deep red heart shape right in the middle of his spine, and he could clearly tell the trace of your nails. And then, the two hickeys on his neck. 

Hyunjin liked to think of his own body as a canvas, too - and he liked to think of you as the only artist allowed to draw on his skin using whichever tools you wanted, as the only person allowed to use his body it whichever you preferred.

✐

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[heich0e]

lucky strike - eren yeager/f!reader (3.2k) tags: baseball player!eren, college!au, modern!au, somewhat toxic relationship dynamic, childhood friends to good luck charm/fwb, reader is blatantly trying to get in zeke's pants and also she kind of sucks, heavy petting, making out, slightly rough/manhandling, eren picks reader up, mentions of eren being a big boy, tw reader is on a diet (/makes a questionable comment about bread), eren takes out his aggression on a sandwich. NSFW MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT (18+)

“Hey, want one?” Eren asks, the words vaguely garbled through a mouthful of food.

You scroll down on your Instagram feed, thumb hovering over a selfie of friend, before glancing up at him.

Eren is on the other side of his family’s kitchen, half a sandwich hanging from his mouth, and a peanut butter coated knife poised mid-air as he looks at you.

“Ew,” you say, returning your gaze to the phone in your hands, “no.”

“What do you mean ‘ew’?” Eren asks, swallowing his bite of sandwich. “You love peanut butter.”

“Peanut butter is so bad for you,” you remark, scrolling again. “And I’m not eating bread right now.”

“What the hell is wrong with peanut butter?” Eren mutters, setting the dirty knife on the edge of the sink. He shoves a hand up underneath his baggy t-shirt to scratch idly at his tummy. “And mom just got this bread this morning from that bakery in town you like. It’s so good.”

“It’s also a simple carbohydrate which means—“

The Yeager family’s back door swings closed, and your head swivels towards the sound. In the entryway, you spot a head of blonde hair as the figure ducks down to pull off their shoes. 

“Zeke!” your voice is a full octave higher—and notably more enthusiastic—when you see Eren’s older brother.

Zeke tilts his face up as he unlaces his boots.

“Hey, kid,” he laughs when he sees you draped across the kitchen counter where you sit upon your barstool, beaming at him with a wide smile, “you here again?” 

You nod happily, and Eren makes a noise of disdain from the other side of the kitchen. You shoot him a pointed look to shut him up as Zeke finishes removing his shoes. 

“Don’t you ever get sick of hanging out with this guy?” Zeke drawls, shuffling in and slinging an arm around Eren’s shoulders, tugging his little brother into his side.

Eren takes a large, resentful bite of his peanut butter sandwich (nearly finishing it off), while simultaneously elbowing Zeke roughly in the ribs.

“It’s torture,” you sigh dramatically. “Better now that you’re here, though.”

Zeke snorts, quirking a brow. “My occasional appearance can’t be the only reason you’ve stuck around this long—”

Eren slips out from underneath his brother’s arm, slinking towards the loaf of fresh bread on the other side of the kitchen. 

“—and twenty years is an awfully long time to put up with someone like him.”

“You’re right,”—you nod solemnly in agreement—“Eren, I think we should end it here.”

Zeke barks out a loud laugh, leaning towards you on the counter with his weight resting on his elbows. He props his scruffy chin up in his palm, smiling as he tilts his head to the side.

“C’mon kid, don’t break his heart like that! He’s been following you around like a puppy since you two were in diapers.”

Eren remains silent on the other side of the kitchen, sullenly preparing another peanut butter sandwich. 

“But if I keep spending all my time with him, how am I supposed to find a boyfriend?” you pout, peeking up at Zeke through your eyelashes. 

“Oh, I’m sure you have no trouble in that department,” Zeke says, a blonde brow quirking in mirth and his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “Much to my dear little brother’s dismay.”

Eren sets the jar of peanut butter down on the counter with a little too much gusto to be casual, snapping out a curt: “did you come over just to be annoying? Or is there actually a good reason you’re here?”

“Aww, baby brother,” Zeke coos, feigning hurt as he turns towards his brother and away from you. “I came to see you!”

Zeke reaches out for Eren, and the younger (but taller) Yeager son bats the elder’s hands away. 

“Fuck off,” Eren grunts. 

“How’d your game go on Friday?” Zeke asks, dropping the act and instead addressing his brother with his usual warmth. The eldest Yeager loves to tease, but he loves his younger brother even more. “Dad said you got a couple really solid knocks in.”

“Obviously,” Eren snorts as he rips a bite out of his second sandwich not dissimilarly to how a predator might devour their prey, his tone making it sound like it should be obvious that he played well.

There’s a reason he’s the star player on the Shiganshina U baseball team, after all. 

“What are you batting these days?” 

“Coach says it’s a .314 after last week's game,” Eren replies, wiping a bit of peanut butter off the corner of his mouth with his thumb before licking it clean. “More than good enough for the National U22 team scouts.”

Eren and Zeke continue to talk baseball for a while longer, and you quickly lose interest—opting instead to watch Zeke’s profile as he chats with his brother. The sharp lines of his stubbled jaw. The delicate slope of his nose. The way the afternoon sunshine soaking in through the kitchen window over the sink makes his blonde hair burn gold.

He really is just unfairly handsome.

“-right, kid?” Zeke is smiling at you as he waits for your response to a question you didn’t hear, snapping you back out of your own thoughts.

“Hm?” you hum, blinking through your confusion. “Sorry, I missed that.”

Zeke chuckles, stepping towards you and dropping a large hand atop your head to ruffle your hair. 

“I said,” he draws out the word pointedly, coming to stand behind you with his hands resting on your shoulders, “as long as you’re there, Eren’s sure to impress the scouts. You’re his good luck charm, after all.”

“Long suffering good luck charm,” you make sure to tack on, tipping your head back to look up at him, the crown of your head landing against his chest. He grins down at you.

“It’s a hard job, but if anyone can do it it’s you,” Zeke says, hands squeezing your shoulders affectionately.

You suppress a shiver at the feeling of his grip. The strength of his hands.

Pitcher’s hands, once upon a time.

“If only it wasn’t so thankless,” you sigh, feigning sorrow. You risk a peek at Eren on the other side of the kitchen from the corner of your eye, and see he’s glowering at you and Zeke’s friendly exchange. 

“Oh, c’mon,” Zeke laughs, dipping down and pressing a quick, prickly kiss to your cheek. The feeling of his stubble brushing against your smooth skin makes blood rush to your head. “You know you’re this family’s favourite child. Eren would probably be in prison by now if it weren’t for your positive influence.”

Judging by the positively murderous look in Eren’s eyes as Zeke pulls away, incarceration still isn’t entirely off the table. 

“Speaking of children and families,”—Zeke stands up straight and steps away from you, much to your dismay—"where are Mister and Misses Yeager?”

“Dad has that conference in Trost this week,” Eren says, his arms crossed over his chest in a way that makes their toned musculature much more evident than his baggy t-shirt betrays. “Left this morning.” 

He’s talking to his brother, but his eyes are on you.

“Ah, Carla went with him?” Zeke asks curiously. 

“Yep.”

“Home alone for the week, huh?” Zeke sidles up towards his brother again, poking him in the side. “You sure you don’t need me to come babysit you?”

“There’s nothing I’d hate more,” Eren says, his nose scrunching in disgust. 

“Aw, little brother,” Zeke clasps a hand to his chest in mock-hurt. He sighs, glancing back at you over his shoulder. “At least I know you’ll make sure he doesn’t burn the place down, right kid?” 

He winks at you.

“I’ll try my very best,” you smile cheekily. “My babysitting fees are pretty steep though.”

“Oh yeah?” Zeke quirks a brow, turning towards you on the opposite side of the counter, leaning forward on his elbows once more. “What’s the going rate these days?”

“Hmmm…”—you tap a finger to your chin in mock contemplation—“Eren’s got a game on Wednesday night. Come keep me company in the stands.”

Zeke laughs, pushing himself up onto his hands. 

“You think that’s a steep price?” Zeke teases. “I know a hundred guys who’d pay for the chance to sit next to you at a game.”

“And lucky you, you get to do it for free,” you say chipperly. 

“Lucky me indeed,” Zeke agrees with a nod, chuckling. “You don’t drive a very hard bargain, you know.”

“What can I say?” you shrug, utterly indifferent to the fact. Pleased by it even. “I’m not much of a businesswoman.” 

Zeke opens his mouth to reply when Eren interrupts. 

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

You and Zeke both look at him in surprise. 

His eyes are on his brother, his expression flat. 

Zeke hides a laugh behind his closed fist. 

“I do actually,” he replies, “I’m coaching little league tonight.”

Zeke peeks over at the clock hanging on the other side of the kitchen. 

“I better head over to the field, now that you mention it.”

You watch sadly as Zeke makes his way over to the back door and prepares to leave. You and Eren both follow.

“Call if you need anything while Dad and Carla are outta town, alright?” Zeke says to his brother once he’s pulled his boots on once more. 

Eren makes some sort of noncommittal grunt, shrugging as he leans against the archway into the back entryway. 

“Have fun at practice, Coach,” you chirp, sneaking up behind Eren and poking your head out from behind his broad shoulders. “Go warriors!"

Zeke smiles, shaking his head.

“I’ll see you on Wednesday,” Zeke says, eyes sliding from you to his little brother. He reaches out and knocks his fist against Eren’s chest affectionately. “Both of you.”

You wiggle your fingers in a wave as Zeke disappears through the door, slipping out of sight. 

You and Eren stand there until you hear the door of Zeke’s truck slam shut and the telltale rumble as the old engine roars to life. 

You’re pinned flat against the wall before the old truck even makes it out of the Yeager’s driveway, with Eren’s mouth pressed—hot and messy and greedy—to yours.

You can still taste the lingering sweetness of peanut butter on his tongue. 

“I hate it when you do that,” Eren whines, his teeth biting into your bottom lip. Biting, not nipping. Pinching down hard enough to hurt.

You make a little noise of complaint, squirming beneath the pressure of his broad, toned body and the equally firm surface of the wall. 

Eren pulls back after a few more moments of kissing you like he’s taking it from you, his chest heaving and a viscid string of spit joining his swollen lips to yours. 

“That hurt,” you complain, scrubbing at your mouth with the back of your hand. “You bit me.”

“You deserve more than a bite after that performance,” Eren counters, his eyes narrowed resentfully. “You might as well have hopped up on the counter and spread your legs for him right there. Might’ve been a little more subtle.”

“Don’t be an idiot,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. You duck out from underneath Eren’s arm as it’s pressed against the wall beside your head, stepping back towards the kitchen. 

“Me?” Eren guffaws. “You just spent the past twenty minutes drooling over my brother and I’m the idiot?”

“Your brother’s hot,” you say with a shrug, tossing an indifferent glance at him over your shoulder. “Can you blame me?”

Eren’s jaw sets, a rigid line as this teeth clench tight. His green eyes swim with spite.

“You’re kinda being a brat, y’know that?”

“Don’t be so jealous, Eren,” you say, your nose scrunching up in distaste. “It’s not a good look on you.”

You turn around again, a smug little smirk curling up at the corner of your lips that he can’t see with your back turned to him. 

Eren’s arms are around your waist in an instant, and you’re flat on your back on the kitchen counter in the next. Eren’s hand behind the crown of your head makes sure your skull doesn’t crack painfully into the marble countertop, but it’s still cold and hard underneath you as you’re sprawled across it like a rag doll. Eren’s mouth finds yours again in another hungry, domineering kiss. 

“God, how do you know exactly how to piss me off?” Eren rasps against your mouth, dragging you down the counter by the belt loops so he can grind his hips into yours. 

He’s as hard as the counter underneath you.

Your breath hitches in your throat, a moan caught just behind the air. 

You could answer his question. You could tell him that you've had two decades to practice and perfect the skill. You could tell him you got so good at it because you know how much he likes it. But you're too distracted as Eren’s hands slip up underneath your t-shirt, pawing at whatever skin has the misfortune of falling into his grip. His hips roll against yours again, and he grabs you by the waist to pull you down into the motion, and this time you really do moan as the tip of his cock ruts against the seam of your jeans—the pressure just enough to stimulate your aching clit.

“What would my big brother would think if he knew why you really spend all your time over here?” Eren mutters, dragging his lips along your jaw, his panting breaths tickle your neck as he mouths at the impossibly sensitive patch of skin just below your ear. The one he knows drives you crazy, in just the way he knows you like so much. “What would he think if he heard the way you beg me to fuck you?”

You gasp as Eren’s teeth bite down into your neck, fleeting but firm, your hands tangling in his half-tied hair and tugging at the soft brown strands. You pull him off your neck, and he meets your gaze with half-lidded, lust-filled eyes. His neck strains at the angle you’re tilting his head back, his prominent adams apple bobbing as he swallows thickly.

“I don’t beg,” you whisper breathily, but you're not sure how much truth there is to the words if history is anything to go by.

Eren smiles, the softness juxtaposed to the ragged breaths you’re both wracked by. The tenderness contrasted by the harsh pang of arousal in your gut. 

“We’ll see about that.”

Eren tosses you over his shoulder and carries you up to his bedroom on the second floor like you weigh nothing. Eren’s build doesn’t betray how strong he really is—years of training and conditioning befitting of a varsity athlete hiding under the baggy hoodies and joggers he lives in everyday. It’s not the first time he’s done this to you, in fact he seems to enjoy making a show of his own strength, but it is perhaps the roughest he’s ever been as he tosses you down atop his unmade bed, crawling promptly onto the mattress atop you. 

He pins your wrists down to the mattress, his hips straddling yours to confine your lower half in a similar way.

He’s so much bigger than you are; no matter how much you wiggle underneath him, there’s no chance of you slipping free.

Not that you particularly want to.

“Did you like teasing me like that?” Eren groans, grinding himself down into you and leaving you with no choice but to take it. 

“I wasn’t t-teasing you,” you stutter over the words you both know string together and form a lie, your head spinning from how good it feels to have his whole weight pressed against you like this. 

“You were,” Eren counters. “You flirt with Zeke just to get under my skin. To try and rile me up.”

You pant up at him, your heartbeat hammering in your chest.

“Did it work?” you ask breathlessly.

Eren’s lashes flutter, a little huff of air that’s not quite a laugh nor a sigh slipping from his swollen lips. He takes your hand in his—much larger, and rougher than your own—and guides it down to the swell in his sweatpants. Beneath the soft cotton you can feel his cock, hard and throbbing under your touch.

Eren’s hips jump slightly when you palm a little firmer against the shape of him of your own volition. His breathing is ragged when he fixes you in his stare, his green eyes burning with want that’s catching, like a fire consuming anything in its path.

“It always does, doesn’t it?”

You smile a little to yourself, and Eren leans down and kisses you again—it’s sweeter this time, a little needier than before. He’s kissing you like he’s asking for something rather than taking it at will.

“Strip,” he grunts, pulling back slightly and tugging hastily at the material of your top.

You look up at him through heavy lidded eyes, the boy you’ve known all your life flushed down to his neck as he watches you just as carefully as you do him. You brush a little piece of hair that hangs down over his eyes back, fingertips ghosting against the shell of his ear as you tuck the tendril behind it.

“Do it yourself,” you chirp, your lips quirking at the corner.

The fire in Eren’s eyes burns brighter, and the cycle, as ever, starts anew.

You fight, you fuck, and then you go back to being whatever the hell the two of you are—and have been all your lives—until the same wheel spins again and brings you back around to the beginning. 

And come Wednesday you find yourself in the stands at Eren’s game, as usual; his long-suffering good luck charm with his jersey on your frame, and his teethmarks pressed into your skin underneath it. 

Zeke sits beside you, glancing at you occasionally from the corner of his eye. He spies some evidence of just what the two of you have been up to in the days since he saw you last, but says nothing, laughing to himself at the strange dynamic the two of you have. He’s long stopped questioning it—or the role he occasionally plays as a pawn in your unusual game.

You watch Eren step up to the plate, bat in hand, and you can’t help but appreciate how nicely his tailored uniform fits his body. Can’t help but think about what you know he looks like underneath it. Can’t help but think about the promise he made to you just that morning, fucking you over the bathroom counter at his house, his lips pressed to your ear.

“The only thing you’re gonna be able to think about tonight when you’re sitting next to my brother at my game is how hard I made you cum on my cock.”

You can't help but think he's made good on it.

The pitcher at the mound in the centre of the field winds up, and you feel the palpable anticipation crackling through the stands. It’s eager and visceral, like a collectively held breath.

At home base, Eren lifts his bat. He wiggles his fingers, a ritual he always does, before his hands tighten around the grip. 

You swallow thickly, your heartbeat thumping in your throat.

The bat cracks against the ball in a clean hit that sends the spectators into a roar, and Eren takes off running to first base, then to second. As he rounds his way to third, you spot the almost feral grin on his face because he knows he’s going to make it home. His eyes, though you can’t quite make out the green from such a distance, find yours in the stands.

You clench your thighs together in your seat.

Beside you, Zeke laughs, slumping back into his seat almost incredulously. 

Like he just can’t believe his little brother’s luck.

[bonefall]

God I am so tired of Bramble fans who refuse to use critical thinking and believe that brambleclaw and squilf are equally bad. Many also hate on moonkitti's video which they most likely haven't even watched or misconstrued points in it. You can like a character without defending all their actions please I'm begging you

And people will sometimes jump to their defense, saying that people just dogpiled them for liking a character the fandom doesn't like, and while that can happen, sometimes people are actually dogpiling them for ignoring abuse and insulting creators with different opinions

(Some discourse happened on Twitter recently about this but it's something I've seen happen before, I'm not specifically talking about anyone)

I'm going to be honest and drop my feelings.

Never have I ever actually SEEN a Bramblefan "get dogpiled" for liking Bramble.

I come out here on my massive soapbox every couple of weeks and drop whole essays on this guy, I chat casually about how important he is to me as a character, both as someone who was abused in a way similar to Squirrelflight AND as someone who can relate to Bramblestar's situation, and before BB got so large and my attention was easier to divide I even ran an AU called Sweet Nothings which had a "big brother" Bramble take in it.

There is no shortage of Bramblestar-related posts around here, yet, I have never, NEVER gotten shit for when I talk positively about Bramble.

In fact, he's commonly cited as one of the favorite cats to see on this blog from my audience. I get praise for addressing him with nuance, explaining how his actions are abuse while also keeping him human, talking about how his life is a painful cycle of self-doubt that makes him double down on his worst decisions. Every time I post about him, I get an influx of comments centered around how my takes on him are appreciated.

What I DO see is people who make art where they try to bothsides him and Squirrelflight, or say something completely false about his behavior, or straightup post DARVO tactics to defend their fav's honor. When someone makes a comment that goes "uhmm? Bit strange innit?" they call it "harassment." Or when people block them, they call that "receiving hate."

OR when someone makes a vaguepost like "Heyyy, DARVO is an abuse denial tactic where the abuser or their apologists Deny the abuse took place, Attack the accuser, and then Reverse Victim and Offender to claim they were actually the person harmed. Bramblestans are playing this out, step for step, and that's bad!" they call THAT dogpiling.

Meanwhile Moonkitti got death threats and was actually harassed for posting Bramblestar Is Worse. To the point where she is hesitant to ever make another video on the topic.

So y'know what? Hot take? The stans don't actually like Bramblestar. They like the vague idea of a sadboy character who broke free from his dad's legacy so they slurp up the framing of the notorious abuse apologist writers, and they get mad when people who have critically engaged with the books don't see what they desperately crave.

How can you really LIKE a character if you can't engage with their actions? If you need to surround yourself in an unpoppable bubble and can't accept anything he's done in the 20+ years he's been active? How can you truly love a man without all his mistakes?

It's sooo hard to be me, Tumblr User Bonefall, the ONLY one who likes Bramblestar correctly. It's rough out here.

[nerdieforpedro]

He told me his name

The Mandalorian/ Din Djarin x plus size female reader

My entire blog is 18+ MDNI

Word Count: approx. 1.3k

Summary: It's not clear if you enter The Mandalorian's orbit or you enter his, but slowly the two of you are growing closer.

Warnings: vague mentions of mechanic work, HANDS (It's my thing about Din okay?!), fluff, some violence, blood, injuries and first aid

Notes: I've wanted to write another Din fic for a while and didn't have any sparks. Then I read @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin 's Din fic (Sorgan girls Are Easy) she put out yesterday which is excellent. I had my spark. ⚡️ Though the fic I wrote isn't similar to hers at all. Not even in the same category. 🤣 My fic is very moody. I might write a follow-up one shot to this. Not another series!

Dividers are by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Main Masterlist / Din Djarin Masterlist /Our Journey Across the Star Ocean

Lingering near your workstation had you curious, but you chalked it up to just being curious about how you worked. You’re aware that your organization, separation and tinkering can be slower than other mechanics but it also means you don’t need to double check your work as often.

The Mandalorian was intimidating and never rude or even commanding. In fact he was polite and let Peli speak to him pretty casually. You only said hello and goodbye.

That’s why it struck you with surprise when Peli asked during one evening card game with the droids if you’d consider riding with the “walking tin can” as she put it. You blinked and asked why you, shouldn’t he be asking her to come with him. She told you that she had a business to run and she’s not gallivanting around with a trigger happy bounty hunter who has to keep track of an adorable but absurdly strong baby. 

“You need some excitement anyway. You’ll just waste away here without any good memories or fun stories to tell. It will just be a life of regrets of paths not taken.”

Her words rang in your head as the small green child sat in your lap. The Mandalorian was at the controls, silently charting their course. Was this a good decision?

He allowed you to come with him when he got his tracking fobs and when he turned in his bounties. The first touch was between your shoulder blade to your back, guiding you and the child through the market back to the Razor Crest.

The second was when his gloved hands touched yours while trying to improve your aim using a blaster. His voice was more gentle than his normal flat one. Closer to what he used with Grogu but still not as much warmth. It was enough to have you believe him to be kind.

The third happened after he brought a bounty back to the ship and he saw Grogu patting your cheeks as you spoke to him. Explaining about what different bolts did, it looked like you were organizing your tools again. His gloved hand was placed on your shoulder which had you peer up at his t-visor. He gave you a nod and went to inventory his weapons. Maybe it wasn’t just kindness. Maybe he believes you to be useful, a smile creeps along your face.

Such small gestures continued until you took Grogu out for a walk. 

It was a fairly green planet and Din said it was safe, you didn’t wander far from the ship as it was still in view. The first crawling plant you saw and shot it through and through with your blaster. The second, nipped your leg but you were able to knock it off and shot it twice. On the way back to the ship you were clear, but one jumped the gangway and a tentacle sliced across your back before you were able to turn and shoot it. You limped back into the Razor Crest and were able to clean and dress your leg but not your back. Grogu wouldn’t stop screaming and you kept moving him away from you to not get blood on the poor child.

The bounty hunter saw you, quickly put his bounty on carbonate and grabbed the bacta spray. He spoke to his son and was able to calm him slightly as he ripped your shirt and bra to try and access the wound on your back but the blood and secretions in your wound from the tentacle made it increasingly difficult as you bled. 

“I apologize for this. I’ll need to cut off the rest of the back of your shirt to clean and apply the spray and…” He paused. The Mandalorian you know never paused, he was always measured in his speech, even with Grogu. “It may be easier for me to do if I remove my gloves. They’ve become too slick with your blood. Is that alright?” You found it puzzling that he was asking permission considering it’s one of the main tenets of his religion. You didn’t care either way as long as the bleeding and pain stopped. 

“It’s fine Mando. Do what you need to do. Grogu’s okay right? I didn’t get any blood on him, I think.”

You closed your eyes and heard the Mandalorian give a few curses as he removed his gloves, warm calloused fingers were dabbing your back and applying pressure. After holding it a few minutes, you felt the cool spray of the bacta and some patches being applied with more pressure. There seemed to be less pain and your back didn’t feel like a dripping pool so you counted your lucky stars and thanked the Maker that the bounty hunter had come back earlier than later. You felt something soft spread over your body and you were lifted off the floor of the ship and brought to your cot. How did he lift you so easily? Did beskar help with that? You didn’t think so, but you know next to nothing about the stuff. It was there that you drifted off to sleep.

When you awoke later, Grogu had tucked himself on your pillow with a small green hand on your cheek. It made you feel happy to see the little green one next to you, but you felt something in your hand. It was what had been on your back. Mando had one of his gloves off and was holding your hand with his bare one. His other hand was touching Grogu’s back but his glove was on. You turned away for a moment to let a tear fall. He cares about you, you’re more than useful, maybe.

Grogu remained asleep but Mando awoke, squeezing your hand in his. “You’re awake? Has the pain subsided? I should check-” You turned back to shush him and carefully sat up, the blanket falling off your partially and he released your hand to pull it around you. The back of your shirt was open and had fallen forward some when you got up, but not expose anything thankfully.  “You should keep warm. We’re on our way back to turn in the bounty. I-I am sorry.”

“There’s no reason to be sorry. They came out of nowhere. I was able to not get killed because of the blaster shots you had me practice and Grogu’s safe so-” Since you’re not holding Mando’s hand any longer, you grasp the blanket, to have something in your hand.

“You were not safe. You were hurt badly. Do…I would not blame you if you wanted to leave.” His register is low, not threatening, but there’s sadness in it. He was sitting at your bedside mere moments ago. You wished to hop back in time and keep still so you wouldn't wake him. Just to have stayed in that moment a bit longer…

“I refuse to go. I will not. You’ll have to toss me off. I’ve seen so many things and places and I want to see that much more. You’re stuck with me Mando.” The blanket drops as you release it and you grab his bare hand with both of yours. “I’m not going to but. I just don’t want to go.” Speaking as you lock your eyes on his t-visor, a deep hum is heard from the hunter, but you remain firm.

“I am called Din. Please do so while it’s just the three of us.” His thumb ran across your palm and tickled your skin making you chuckle. “You will remain and hopefully I will hear more of your laugh.” Your smile only grows with his answer. “Please rest for now. Our journey isn’t over.”

Space Buddies: @linzels-blog @maggiemayhemnj @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @missladym1981 @morallyinept @sherala007 @yorksgirl @daddy-dins-girl @magpiepills @megamindsecretlair @anoverwhelmingdin @theincredibleinkspitter @alltheglitterandtheroar @mrsmando @drawingdroid @harriedandharassed @i-own-loki @lady-bess @undercoverpena @pedroshotwifey

[icallhimjoey]

I’m actually on the edge of my seat waiting for some intense mlem mleming from Joe 😩 there’s no way he’d build it up this much just to be as shit as the rest.

Joe babe we’re all rooting for you ✨

ok sluts, you ready? obvious content warning for smut! if you're a minor i want you to go tell your parents about the blogs that you follow, and QUICK, before i call the coppers. all right, here we go! Wordcount: 3.7K

---

Double Or Nothing

part one - part two - part three - part four - part five

“There she is!”

A full table of people turned when one of your friends saw you enter the pub. Hands raised, some with and some without glasses, to catch your attention – like you weren’t always vaguely in the same spot of this place.

You smiled and rushed over when you saw Izzy holding up a full pint – yours.

“We’ve been waiting!” someone revealed, and Izzy gave you an eyebrow raise as she handed you the drink after you pulled up a chair. You knew what she meant and it was clear what the topic of discussion had been thus far.

You found Joe's eyes, and, ugh. Great. They twinkled with trouble.

Joe was sat at the other side of the table and leant back in his chair, sort of not participating in the conversation even though, you know, it was about him. He just knew all the information already and by the looks of things hadn’t revealed anything just yet.

“Is this man as irresistible as the magazines say he is?”

“Magazines? What are the magazines saying?”

“You know what I mean,”

“Clearly, we all know that magazines would be wrong regardless of who’s won this bet,”

Your friends laughed, and Joe gave them the finger as he sipped his drink, completely unbothered. Unlike you. Joe watched as you fought for a neutral expression, still leant back, all relaxed which should’ve told your friends plenty.

Maybe he’d been secretive in the braggy sense, had just given looks when they’d asked about who’d won. A smug “of course I did” face whilst saying, “I don’t know, she’ll have to tell you herself.”.

Izzy also seemed to bow out of the chat. Didn’t seem all that interested, even though she smiled knowingly. You’d already told her that he won. She had seen you glare at him on Thursday morning, had felt the tension in the room when you’d left for work late.

Izzy casually asked you if your top was new, which, it wasn’t, and for three seconds you fell into a best friend conversation about clothes. Your other friends were quick to break that up.

“Come on!”

“We want the results!”

You laughed at the impatience, and then cleared your throat.

“Yea… he um, he got me. I lost.”

A friend slapped the table with a flat hand, said, “I knew it!” and another added, “Just like the rest of us, not good enough,” whilst he grabbed Joe by the shoulder and shook him a little, making him laugh.

“Wait, so no head?” someone asked, sort of shocked.

“No head,” you confirmed, smiling.

You didn’t know if relief or disappointment took the overhand on that one. Outwardly, relief showed itself more, you thought. Which was good, you didn’t need your friends knowing that you wouldn’t kick Joe out of the bed if that was the reason he was there.

People asked what the ick had been, and you listed of eight or nine things that had annoyed you. Things Joe had done after which he immediately asked if that had been it. You’d never confirmed it then, but now, you got to use all of those things. Made all of your friends laugh, point at Joe, yell, “He does do that!”, “Yea, you do do that.”

Joe took the scrutiny like a champ and just said, “She lost the bet, full week of favours. But, please, keep going,” and so you did. Mentioned how he had changed his hair after years of having it the same, just because he was famous now. How he would use his friends as personal assistants when he took them on trips for work. How he used his industry signature for the card that came with the flowers he sent, instead of just signing his own name with all the actual letters like a normal person.

It was so easy to come up with icks, because there were so many. You mentioned fourteen, maybe fifteen of them.

You noticed Izzy was eyeing you a little weird, and it made you feel uncomfortable. Made you feel like you wanted to escape the table for a second, to let you friends fall into a different topic of conversation before you joined them again. So you did, excused yourself, and went to the toilets just to look at yourself in the mirror for a second. Check your hair and the inner corners of your eyes for mascara goop.

The second you’d walked out of earshot Izzy leant back in her seat and craned her neck to catch Joe’s attention behind two of your friends’ backs.

“She’s lying.” Izzy said to Joe, who smirked a little and nodded. Said, “I know.”

And that was that.

When you returned, you were glad to find that the conversation had moved onto another topic, and you found yourself trying to not make eye contact with Joe for the rest of the night.

He was there, though, in the corner of your eye. And sometimes, you’d laugh when he’d laugh and you’d catch that you were both laughing at the same thing, but the bet wasn’t mentioned again. Not until Joe got up to go home, said his goodbyes, and then looked at you, pointed a finger and said, “See you on Monday.”

You’d had a few, so you felt boisterous enough to say, “Beware, Quinn. Skip a day, lose a favour.”

And he’d raised his eyebrows, went, “Oh that’s how it is, is it?” and you’d just smiled. Said, “Bye Joe,” again, to which he replied, “Yea, no, I’ll remember that.”. You’d scrunched faces at each other for a second, and you’d heard one of your friends clear their throat. Snapped Joe right out of it.

After that, he’d really left. Not soon after, you and Izzy had headed home as well.

That following Monday, you’d been waiting for a text message from Joe. Or a phone call. But most of the day passed without Joe reaching out, and the nerves of what it could be that Joe was going to make you do kind of fizzled. Monday had just been a regular normal Monday, and you almost thought Joe’d forgotten about the week of favours. You definitely weren’t going to remind him – the rule “Skip a day lose a favour,” really worked to your advantage here. You were a little sad Izzy was out for some work thing that night – you would’ve loved to make fun of Joe for forgetting the bet he’d made such a big deal out of with her.

But then, after you’d showered and installed yourself on your sofa in fuzzy socks and a T-shirt you thought once belonged to your dad it was so huge, your phone chimed.

“are you home?”

Fuck. So close.

“Bit late mate”

It was nearly 9. Three more hours and he would’ve fumbled the bag.

“are you home”

You hesitated. Receiving the exact same message again didn’t feel funny. It felt... urgent. No play.

“yes”

And so, you didn’t play. Just let him know that, yes, you were.

“Izzy?”

“no”

Not much later, the doorbell rang. You paused Netflix and checked to see if the T-shirt covered enough of your legs for it to not be weird. You decided that it did and opened the door to find Joe, on his own, already making his way inside.

“For my first favour,” he didn’t even say hi. Just barged in and lost his coat whilst he walked right past you in the direction of your bedroom. “You’re going to have to admit that you didn’t lose,” Joe looked over his shoulder at you, before turning his head and finding the light switch of your room.

Your bed got a glance from him now that it was visible in the light before Joe turned around again. You were still stood there with handle to your front door in hand.

“Um... hi,” you said sarcastically, and it made Joe wave a hand, dismissing the fact that you wanted normal civil people manners. It might’ve been just you and him, but a hello would’ve been nice.

But, you see, Joe was on a mission here. Ready to get his first favour from you. To get it, he needed you in the bedroom however, and after a short stare down the hall, he beckoned you with his head. A little nod that said, come here.

“I’ve not been thinking about this for a full week only for you to decide you could just stop the bet,”

“I didn’t–” you started making your way down.

“We both know,” Joe interrupted, closed his eyes and tilted his head a little, brow furrowed, looking a little annoyed. “We both know I didn’t give you the ick.”.

You blinked at him a few times, bodies already too close now that you were both half in your doorway, no real room left for personal space.

“I didn’t turn you off. Not like that, anyway,”

Joe used the muscles of his chin to push his lips into a thin line and gave a slight nod. It said, admit it, you know I’m right, and it made you scoff.

“Joe, I lost, you made me lose. S’your own fault.”

Those were words chosen carefully and purposefully. You couldn’t get yourself to say that Joe had won, because you knew he didn’t exactly feel like a winner here. You knew how he’d smack that right into your face if you were to tell him that he’d won.

“All right, so you lost,” Joe shrugged in sarcastic acceptance, arms out wide. “So I get my week of favours, and this is the first favour: tell me you didn’t lose.”

“That’s not fair– that…” you searched Joes eyes a second, gaging how serious he was being. If you’d truly pissed him off, if he really was going to keep pushing this without bursting into laughter at the height of the joke.

Joe didn’t say anything, and his expression didn’t falter.

Oh, he was serious serious, and you swallowed the volume of voice you were going to finish that sentence with. Turned it into a whisper because that’s all your throat seemed to be able to manage.

“That doesn’t count,”

You knew exactly what he was here for. Had known from the second Joe beelined it to your bedroom upon entering your flat. Your breath held itself locked tight in your chest, hiding there in anticipation. You could see the clear path ahead but didn’t fully trust yourself – what if you were wrong? This was Joe – your flirty friend who knew where the line was and who never really crossed it.

Was he about to cross it?

You felt tension building. Thickening.

Joe was stood in your bedroom and held you close by an elbow of which the hand rested on his chest. You put it there to give yourself the option to push him away, out of your personal space, but instead, you saw how your fingers softly rubbed at the fabric. Soft, and warm underneath. Joe’s head was tilted down, just like yours, and you could feel the heat of his breath on your temple.

“Say you won the bet,” Joe whispered, and the way your body immediately leant in closer to him was awful. You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out but a small sigh. It sounded more annoyed than anything else.

You weren’t going to say it. Joe didn’t deserve that satisfaction. What you did do, was look behind you to find the light switch to slap. It wasn’t exactly what Joe had asked of you, but turning the lights off sent a clear, silent message. It made Joe place a careful hand to your stomach, to push back a little, to guide you towards your bed. He barely had to touch you for you to lay down on top of the covers on your back.

This was so weird.

There was no kissing. No lips moving across each other, across jawlines or necks. It was just you, on top of your bed in an oversized sleep T-shirt and lace underwear that had been hidden from Joe until now.

Joe let his hips hook over the edge of the bed and used his fingertips to glide over the flesh of your thighs.

Yea, Joe was about to cross the line. Had crossed the line, already, if you really thought about it. Several lines, too.

“You understand that I’m not going to do anything you don’t want,” Joe meant, I won’t force you. That wasn’t the kind of man he was, and that wasn’t how he wanted this to go down, obviously.

Joe stopped his hands, paused, and you saw his eyes try to lock onto yours in the dark.

“I’m not saying no, am I?” you replied, tugging on your T-shirt a little on your sides, making sure that Joe wasn’t getting an eyeful of flesh that he didn’t need. It was dark, but, still.

Your answer wasn’t good enough, though, and the insecure pulling down of fabric Joe just witnessed didn’t help.

“So, is that a yes?”

Bastard.

You were trying so hard to hold onto your pride, the fact that your loss meant that Joe wasn’t irresistible to you. You one, really didn’t want to inflate his ego like that and two, didn’t know how to handle the fact that you were absolutely lying to yourself.

Because Joe was right.

But, how fucked up was that? It was far easier to pretend he wasn’t.

It also felt safer not admitting that you wanted this. Sure, a week ago, you’d agreed to a bet of which you knew what the consequences would be. But it had all been jokes, sort of, and you’d been surrounded by people, by all of your friends. It hadn’t been intimate like this.

Having your wants be out there? For everyone to witness? Big nope.

You wanted to keep those wants inside, where you knew where they were. Where you could keep an eye on them as they sulked in a corner, where you could cage them up and where they could only affect you if you got close to them on your own terms. In your own time. Like, when you were alone, in the shower, or late at night in bed.

You know, how normal people dealt with these sort of things.

If those wants were to slip outside of that space, if you spoke them into existence outside of yourself, they would become unpredictable and you'd lose control of them. Couldn't have that happen, of course.

“Hey,”

A soft whisper pulled you from your thoughts, and you looked down to where Joe was still positioned between your legs. You were still in your underwear, and in the dark that your eyes had started to adjust to, you could see Joe’s knitted eyebrows, worry lines on show. He planted his chin just onto the side of your pubic bone, scratching the cheap lace of your underwear into your skin.

“Let me in,”

And piss right off, you’d never thought of inviting Joe in. That way, thoughts didn’t have to leave your brain at all. They could stay right where they were, safely tucked away in their own labeled boxes, and you could give Joe a grand tour of the place. Make him take his shoes off before he entered, and tell him that you look with your eyes, not with your hands, like he was a child in a sweet shop.

Yea.

You could let Joe in, and so you told him. You just hadn’t anticipated the constricted way it came out of your mouth, throat all tense and hoarse.

“Yea,”

Joe’s expression smoothed into a small smile, and his fingers curled around your underwear on your hips.

“Yea?”

He moved one side down a little, waited for you to confirm again, and this time, he accepted the quick little nod you gave. Pulled your knickers off entirely, and when they passed your socks, he took those off too. Good. Would’ve been silly to get eaten out whilst wearing lilac fuzzy socks.

Even though you technically knew that Joe was about to plummet right into you with his mouth wide open, you were still glad the lights had been turned off. Joe didn’t need to actually see you.

Before you felt anything else, you decided you also didn’t need to see Joe, and so you chose a spot on the ceiling, near your light, that you could stare at. Good. That felt safe.

You know what – closing your eyes was even better.

You felt Joe’s breath, followed by soft kisses nowhere near where you wanted him, but it made heat erupt in your cheeks anyway.

This was happening.

Fuck.

This was actually happening.

“Is this okay?” Joe asked in a whisper, and you felt how he used his fingers to get better access.

“Yea, no,” Jesus, that was breathy. “That's– that's fine.”

More soft kisses, placed in better spots now, but it wasn't until the wet heat of his tongue hit you that you inhaled sharply. Right on the money. Good boy.

Time for supper.

It could’ve been just under seven minutes, or over two whole hours – time sort of stopped existing whilst Joe had his arms hooked around your thighs.

Joe was good. Knew that sucking was better than licking, the combination even better, and that getting teeth involved needed careful precision. You were struggling trying to stay quiet – your breaths were quick and started to release noise on every exhale.

Reel it in, drama queen, you thought when you heard yourself. But every time you tried to bite your lips into your mouth to somewhat silence yourself, Joe would up the tempo. Add pressure. Made you forget that you were trying to be respectful towards the neighbours.

Then Joe pulled a move that zapped you right back into focus. A hand got pressed firmly into the flesh just below your bellybutton and you tensed at the touch. Joe’s throat made a noise that sounded like he was going “Ah!” at a pet when it was about to do something it wasn’t allowed to do. Your body unwillingly reacted to it and immediately relaxed, making your knees dip even closer to the mattress. You didn’t know you were this flexible, could spread quite this wide for someone, but that hand pushing down was working.

Shit.

It kind of felt like you’d just discovered sunsets. Why weren’t you outside at sundown every day to look at the sky?! If you’d have known the colours could be beautiful enough to make you weep, you fucking would be, what the fuck.

You tried to swallow whatever made your throat feel hoarse, but there was nothing there. Just emotions then, you guessed. Sure, why not?

You risked a glance down and it was just outlines of curls and humps of shoulders. This was real. That was Joe, and your skin was on fire. You were about to orgasm, felt the faintest hint of it there before it ebbed away again, and you knew you had to focus. Concentrate to pull that feeling back.

But, that was Joe.

Joe.

How long had he been down there?

You were going to have to see him again tomorrow. With Izzy there, probably. Oh, God.

Before you even really knew what you were doing, you heard yourself. Loud moans, upping in pitch as Joe sucked and licked and you knew you were going to have to be convincing enough to make Joe believe it.

You were absolutely one hundred per cent faking an orgasm. Because that was Joe, and this whole situation was wildly unhinged.

Enough now. You’d come. Joe could stop.

“Stop,”

But, wait. That wasn’t your hushed voice that said that.

“Stop it,” Joe instructed again, and like the situation wasn’t awkward enough yet, you looked down to make eye contact with him.

“Don’t do that.”

And then he kept going.

Faster now. More pressure. Tongue flicking as he sucked hard. That hand started pressing down more, and like fucking magic, you didn’t need to focus all that much for the real thing to snap. You felt your whole body flush, blood rushing, pleasure exploding and, yea all right, these noises were a lot more realistic than the pathetic ones you had whined out before.

Old habits died hard, you guessed.

You floated for a little bit. Let yourself be fully in your body for a moment.

Nice.

That was nice.

And he'd barely even used his fingers. Jesus.

It took a minute for you to realise that Joe was softly laughing. You were spent, completely out of breath and felt how two hands got you back into your underwear. Put two lilac fuzzy socks back onto your feet.

When he got up onto his feet, he looked down at you with a stupid smug little smile playing on his face.

You huffed a little laugh at him, and groaned as you brought two hands up to cover your face in embarrassment.

“Say you won,” Joe challenged, and when you peeked through fingers, saw him grin widely at you. You grinned right back and said, “No.” which made him laugh.

“I’ll um... I’ll see you tomorrow,” and where Joe had been the one taking the lead regarding this favour before, he seemed to be the one that felt a bit awkward now. Like he’d only just been hit with all the things that had been going through your mind all throughout it.

You couldn’t really say anything back. Too busy staring at his shiny red lips, and then a quick glance down to check his crotch. Joe pretended he didn’t see that.

“And thank you,”

Your eyebrows quirked in question.

“For the favour.”

With a last slow smile, Joe turned and walked out of your bedroom. Closed to door behind him with care, which he didn’t need to do. Izzy wasn’t in. But still, not having to wait for Joe to shut the front door behind him until you had a bit of privacy was nice.

The second you were left alone, you flipped over in the bed and pressed your face into your pillow. You wanted to scream, because what? What?!

What the fuck?

No, but actually, what the fuck?

---

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[g1rlken]

hi dolly! 💕i just discovered ur blog n i love ur writing sooo much! 🙈💞 can u pls do 2 or 16 for nate!! 💗💗

you’re so freaking nice woah I love u sm 😠🫶🏼

Prompt: 2. Sunshine x grumpy + 16. Help get out of a toxic relationship

Nate Jacobs x fem!reader

2.7k words

-

Just the ninth if not the tenth party of the month. Another house party, on a school night, way past her usual bedtime and really overwhelming that it just won’t near its end. Y/n couldn’t bare it sometimes but she had to attended because her boyfriend Ryan did. It was fun though, driving him home as he’d be piss drunk and the party itself had the most obnoxious teenage charm. In order to block out on the godawful bass and flickering lights y/n guided herself into the kitchen when Ryan most probably didn’t even notice.

“Oh what have we here!” Nate exclaimed as he followed in some time after, she jumped down from the kitchen counter where she previously sat with an awkward smile. She’d known of Nate and him partially. They were supposed friends ever since that one term last year where she had to tutor him. Though they didn’t really reconnect after that once she started seeing Ryan. It was somewhat majorly due to him that y/n didn’t see a lot of her friends who seemed potential threats to him.

“Hi” she greeted him awkwardly looking out the door to see if Ryan was coming, she was scared he’d cause a scene if he saw her with Nate. Even if it was just a conversation, two of them at a reasonable distance with a probable small talk following. Ryan wouldn’t have it, he’d loose his shit over her even breathing in the direction of some other guy.

Nate could tell that she was a bit frantic over something and he was fast to connect it was a ‘someone’ rather. “What are you doing here all alone?” He asked pouring himself a glass of water.

“Nothing really just uh-“ she tried thinking of proper words to say. But the soft dread of Ryan walking in any minute made her mind preoccupied.

Nate interrupted her pause, “Beer pong’s too boring for you? Already calculated the probability of winning?” He joked, when she had helped him with math and there were similar questions as such counting probably of winning a coin toss. So it was a small jab from something between them.

A small laugh seemed to escape her genuinely as he correlated their previous connection through maths, “I didn’t think about that wow…” she trailed off, “one throw amongst ten glasses”

“One in ten probability of winning.” He answered his instant calculation.

“I don’t know the glasses are set up like a triangle and they’re not all equally probable to get in, maybe we take like one row at a time and then apply bayes theorem for each-“ she was going off about the self curated math problem between the two of them as he listened intently but looked absolutely clueless so she stopped herself “oh wait I’m rambling aren’t I? Sorry” she cringed to herself letting out a soft chuckle.

“It’s alright sweetheart” he added with a shrug, “I like hearing you talk.”

“Surely because math is so fun isn’t it?” She said sarcastically rolling her eyes at him.

“It’s not. But when you talk like that, it’s fun to watch.” Nate replied just mildly, contrary to his chance making intentions out of this conversation. Even apart from that he did mean that, he’d missed it, her.

“Like what?”

“That…” he pointed to her face vaguely, unable to describe how her eyes lit up and a cheery tone followed her voice whenever she talked about something she liked without being made felt like it was a chore to the listener “You get all smiley...happy. When you talk about something you love”

“Well I don’t necessarily love math.” She told him, it was true. Despite of being good at something, having a passion for it was unilateral to it.

“I guess you love being heard then.” It might just have been a note as Nate mentioned it so casually but as she thought about it, she couldn’t help but wander back to Ryan and how he never listened.

No. That couldn’t be, everyone’s a different lover perhaps “Yeah…” she trailed off with a small smile as her expression fell. Comprehending those moments where talking to Ryan about something in her life would just feel like talking to a wall.

“What’s wrong?” Nate asked catching on her fallen expression.

“What?” She asked confused, nonchalant because surely he wouldn’t fix anything “Nothing…”

“It doesn’t seem like nothing, what’s wrong?”

“What?” She frowned but couldn’t help laugh when she saw his ever so concerned face like her smile falling was that big of a deal. “Nothing’s wrong!” As a joke, she splashed some of the tap water on his flickering it on him through her fingers. She laughed as he took the attack of tiny droplets.

“You did not just-“ if it were some one else he would’ve most probably said the worst cusses in the book but with her he just let out a small huff.

“Did what?” She attempted to sprinkle his face once again but this time he got a hold of her wrists with one of his hands, she couldn’t contain her laughter. It was infectious to him as well, this light hearted moment was flooded all over like a forest fire with an irking voice.

“What the fuck’s going on here?” Ryan seethed, y/n immediately pulled her hands away from Nate’s as that boy strided in.

“W-we uh were just talking” y/n spoke frantically, it was disheartening to Nate to see her all panicky and frantic again, when she was just laughing and at peace a few moments ago.

“That’s what you’ve come up with?” Ryan questioned as he aggressively walked towards her “Why do you always have to slut your way about, everywhere I take you huh?”

“I wasn’t doing anything I swear-we were just talking, I used to tutor him math and we were just reconnecting over it I-“ y/n jumped rapidly to explain herself before Nate could intervene for her.

“Over math huh?” Ryan scoffed “Someone dumb like you? You were talking about math?”

“Hey calm the fuck down alright” Nate interjected before y/n could. “She said we were just talking so we were just talking.” He added authority to her words but it just made things worse.

“This is our matter so can you fuck off?” Ryan barked at Nate, the two weren’t friends but just distant acquaintances. Ryan naturally couldn’t stand anyone trying to talk to her because it was all ‘flirting’ and Nate couldn’t naturally stand y/n because that boy made his sun rays embodied girl feel awful.

“No.” Nate said adamantly “How about you grow a pair and stop being a little bitch about everyone who looks in her direction? Do you not think yourself man enough to keep her or do you have to berate her to have her around?” Nate was poking at him purposely because he himself wanted a go at this guy but he didn’t want y/n to think Nate was the guy who’d throw first punch, even though he wanted to.

But that was it, Nate received the punch he was asking for but he barely flinched very overpowered with his own urge of showing Ryan his place they two were at each other’s throats. This was the exact scene y/n was worried about Ryan creating, she tried to soothe the fight pleading them both but it didn’t work.

“Get off of him!” She kept on trying as she held Ryan from his arm, trying to tug him away but it was distracting him so much from throwing his hands at Nate. Her constant nagging and tugging.

“Get the fuck off me!” Ryan roared at y/n pushing her off of him very aggressively, intently pushing her so hard she fell to the ground and that was when Nate no longer held his punches. He beat the boy bloody red. By now the others had gathered too to help escalate the situation but it was of no help, Nate was like an animal unleashed.

-

A week since that, y/n couldn’t even meet Nate’s eye. She ignored him in hallways, changing her direction, she sat far across him in class always hurrying out before he could talk. She wouldn’t reply to his messages, not even see them. He hadn’t seen her around with Ryan either in their designated spots around the school so that was a good sign but he just wanted to talk this out with her because he couldn’t understand the relentless feeling of having lost her. Even as a friend. He never regretted having beaten Ryan, he deserved it. Nate was so certain of it. But y/n. He hated thinking she saw him differently after that, his obnoxious rage to protect that he wanted to cherish. Did it repel her? He felt entitled to at least find that out, he’d leave her be to just glance from the sidelines and wait till she’ll finally look his way if that made her happy but he’d like to know.

Another house party after that one with a facade, Nate as he lounged with his friends overheard a group of girls behind him gossiping about how y/n and Ryan are back together. Eavesdropping as his blood boiled he found out that she’ll probably be around here since Ryan’s here. When he heard that he immediately rose to his feet setting down his beer without a care to respond to his mates who asked about his sudden leave, they kept asking where he was going before he was lost in the crowd. He could barely register anything at this point.

As he walked through the crowd in disbelief and anger he finally did find y/n, out in the garden with some other girls he simple pulled her by her arm to himself without a word or explanation to others he received a few woahs he didn’t care for.

Nate would’ve pulled her aside to talk to her if she was standing with Ryan if that boy weren’t to busy getting piss drunk. “Hey!” Y/n resisted trying to walk herself but he continued to drag her with a tight grip on his arm getting to a quieter place by the small space between the backward and out shed. “Nate what are you-“

“What’s wrong with you?” He asked her, brows furrowed.

“What? What are you talking about…” y/n trailed off as some embarrassment and regret creeped within her but she full well knew what he was talking about.

“How are you even seeing Ryan again? Are you out of your mind?!” He exclaimed. He had so much to demand about, Nate swallowed his pride with timid hurt whenever she ignored him. He could bare her dismissiveness but not her sadness.

“Look…” She breathed unable to meet his gaze, “it’s different-“

“It’s different is it? What is tell me, has he come up with more ways to make you feel shitty?”

Remaining silent as she looked to the ground like it was the most interesting thing ever she felt horrible. Even more horrible of the life she could be otherwise leading but the life she was afraid of leaving. Afraid of the change leaving ryan would bring, afraid of its consequence the emotional weight.

“And you’ve been ignoring me this entire time. Do you think I can’t see that?” Nate spoke and this time she looked up increasingly confused at how he could see through her that much “You don’t look at me, always hurry away even right now you can’t even meet my eyes what are you so afraid of?!”

“It’s just…it’s difficult to explain” y/n tried to reply mildly as she sighed on the verge of tears.

“As long as you can explain it to yourself right?” He scoffed, really agitated how she couldn’t see what he could. Nate was an intense lover too, ferocious one that. But he’d never make her feel this miserable if she was his. She wouldn’t even have to be his he just wanted Ryan to leach away from her because she’d be happier exactly like she was before that boy. Constantly governing her and disrespectful. Nate had a bad temper and he was difficult but he’d never be difficult enough to the extent of hurting her.

Now tears brimmed her eyes and he instantly held back from his words realising just how distressing it must be for her “Hey…hey” he urged her raising her chin with his fingers to make him look at him “I shouldn’t have said that I’m sorry…” he apologised but it didn’t stop the tears streaming down her face. “Y/n…it’s alright” he brought her to himself enlacing her into his arms and he rubbed her back letting her cry it out.

“I just don’t know what to do-he—he apologised and he said he’d change and this is the second time this has happened and I-i felt embarrassed to see you because you did so much and yet I went back to him…I keep on doing this, I just, I’m very lost on that account” she wept “He’s my first-first everything and I do really like him but he just makes me miserable and awful. Every second I’m with him I just feel horrible I don’t even want to be here at this party but I am…because of him.”

“Look at me” he said pulling away from the hug to face her but she still kept looking down so Nate cupped her face in his hands “Look” he urged “It’s okay…it’s difficult. You’re learning to love and you’re too attached to him right now. You will get out of it only if you get out of it. You have gotten over much difficult things and you have been okay. You’ll be okay this time around too.”

“How do you know that?” She asked as her voice broke but her tears composed.

“Because I love you.” Nate blurted and didn’t even regret it, almost felt free of letting out a feeling so intense in him whether or not she reciprocated “I love you. I love all of you and I’m not embarrassed to admit it but I want you whole. I want you happy, I promise you i will maintain it and I don’t want you to think of it now” he said wiping her tears “we’re going to go home. I’ll drop you home. You’re not answerable to anyone if you don’t want to be at a place you don’t want to be. You think about Ryan, break up, sort your head out yeah? You deserve better than him because love shouldn’t make you feel awful and miserable. it doesn’t necessarily have to be me or anyone, your own self needs you the most right now. Act right by you.”

Nate drove her home after that, she was truly glad. The car ride was full of a comfortable silence and the genuine serene smile which adorned her face when she told him good night after dropping her off was all worth it to Nate.

Following two days were a bit long as Nate didn’t hear from y/n in any way. She wasn’t even at school. The game day was on the weekend so people rarely came from class these days. Regardless on the game day when he had to play himself he searched for her in the crowd full of people but couldn’t find her. That’s what he told himself weighing light on the fact that she might not have showed up.

He played his well that game, where they won. But he still felt like he had lost somewhat. Since he didn’t have y/n, or a sign of her that could bring his heart some peace. It’s as if his wish was turned alive, he saw y/n come rushing towards the team where everyone was congratulating each other.

He dropped his helmet to the floor when she came running and picked her up in his arms, feeling won, feeling at home. Nate hugged her as if she wouldn’t exist if he let go and likewise. Y/n finally felt liberated, happy, like herself again. Following his word of advise.

Y/n had broken up with Ryan, with a lot of comprehension and conversations with her feelings y/n had reciprocated Nate’s. “I love you too” she replied to what she couldn’t that night at the party and he smiled so hugely kissing her as she was still lifted up into his arms. She kissed him back wrapping her arms around him and like he’d promised, she felt alright again.

HEY!!!! Please let me know your thoughts I will think about it twice a week if you commented a smile face even. Anyways, THANK YOU for reading I love you and go drink water

+is my nate semi non toxic? Yes as a descendant of bob the builder family I fixed him

[devildomditzy]

What Petnames they call you

I’ve seen quite a few blogs do this and I just want to throw my personal hc’s in the ring while I work through this writer’s block.

not exactly proof read, so sorry for any grammatical/spelling mistakes! It’s midnight lol.

Lucifer

my immortal Darling. It feels dark, mysterious, and romantic. The way his says it feels vaguely threatening but in a hot way. You feel like you’re dating a vampire.

Dove. Now this one can have a double meaning, depending on how you look at it. On one hand it seems sweet, like he finds you adorable like a little bird. On the other hand he sees you as something to possess, to cage away and own, like a little bird.

Besides those two, there’s not much else. He refers to you as his significant other or other half in conversations with other people, but he likes to keep it fairly straightforward. He much prefers the sound of your name rolling off his tongue.

Mammon

His favorite, of course albeit cheesy, is Treasure. He’s the Avatar of Greed and you’re the most important thing he’s acquired throughout his many, many years. It’s only natural to call ya what ya are!

Next in line would be Doll or Dollface. Not only does it flow with his cadence of speech, but he thinks it fits you perfectly! He’d never admit it out loud, but he loves to dress ya up in whatever cute little outfit he bought you from majolish this week, and he just finds you so adorable. But he’ll also use this one when he wants to be a bit more sultry.

He loves to call you Human when he’s teasing you, or specifically his human. He used the one generally at first around others when he was first assigned as your guardian. Now it’s my human whenever someone decides to get a little bit too friendly with you

He also uses Puppy when he’s teasing you for wanting attention or being needy in bed. You can fight me on this, and you will lose.

Levi

Henry. Yes yes we already know this one but it means a lot to him! It means you’re his best friend and his whole world! It means he can show his endearment through something he is familiar and comfortable with. And! It’s dorky!

He refers to you as his Player Two in the context of being his teammate, or the one person he can count on or wants to partner up with for any specific task. Wherever one goes, the other follows

He has the most trouble calling you Baby. It makes him so flustered! But it’s worth it to see the smile on your face.

Satan

He’s a big fan of Dear. It’s not too sappy and it’s not too flashy. It’s a classic, and he believes it conveys perfectly how he feels out you. There’s nothing in any realm more dear to his heart than you.

He’s read one two many fairytales and now he can’t stop calling you Prince/Princess. He wants to treat you like royalty, and trust that he will. Now if you want to call him your prince, he’ll absolutely melt.

Kitty or Kitten. OKAY LISTEN-

Asmo

Love! It’s short, sweet, and to the point. It embodies everything that he is and everything he sees in you.

He’s the Avatar of Lust, of course he’s gonna call you Sexy, and he does it in the most casual of ways? He’ll call across the hall to you with this nickname, not caring who’s around to hear. He’ll giggle at Belphie call of “gross”, and Levi’s rasp of “normies”

Asmo may call a lot of people Sweetie, but don’t get it twisted, you’re the only person that he calls that and MEANS it. No one can replace you! There’s no one better, other than hiself of course. But you’re okay with that, right Sweetie?

Beel

(oh gosh oh golly here come the food nicknames)

One of Beel’s favorites to cure his sweet tooth is Honey - and there’s on one sweeter than you! It’s like he can combine his two favorite things, food and you!

Babe. A lot of people give this one to Mammon, but I really feel it for Beel. He uses this one a lot in from of his Fangol teammates. As he gets ready to hit the field, he’ll give you a quick kiss before asking, “Will you cheer for me, Babe?”. It’s rhetorical of course, you’re his biggest fan.

Sugar. Okay, can you blame him? The only thing that can rival his gigantic cravings is his massive love for you. Plus, if your nickname is good related, it reminds him how hungry he is, then he can invite you to come snack with him. It’s a win-win!

Belphie

Belphie physically cannot stop himself from calling you Cutiepie. Gosh, he gets of have one of those cherished humans he was so fascinated by all to himself? and you’re just so adorable? He can’t help it when he fawns all over you.

Sunshine. You were the shimmering, beautiful light that pulled him out of the dark place he has hidden himself away in all those years ago. You helped him move on from Lilith, you helped him see the good in humans again, and you helped him see that his brothers really do truly care for him. Now, you are the light that guides him.

He uses Beautiful the most generally. He doesn’t feel embarrassed saying it in front of his brothers, and he gets to compliment you at the same time.

[olderthannetfic]

I hate to revive DNI discourse when it just ended on this blog but I often don’t think it’s as deep as people make it out to be and there’s a lot of, for lack of a better word, ~valid~ reasons someone may have a DNI. Like there’s absolutely contexts of “Kink Blogs DNI” disclaimers having an anti, swerf, etc undertone but sometimes I get it — for example I follow a couple of disability activists who post A LOT about incontinence, needing a caregiver, ETC who have stuff like “ABDL/DDLG/Devotee Blogs DNI.” Oftentimes that is not an indicator on their moral stance of those kinks, but rather them just being like “hey this is an activism-based journal where I post about incredibly personal things in regards to my own life, and while anyone has the right to read or reblog from me, if you’re clearly getting off to my medical needs or even if I get the vague impression you are, you WILL be blocked.”

Obviously that is an incredibly extreme and personal example, but I don’t think having a DNI boundary in your bio is ALWAYS a morality/discourse stance. On a much lighter note, I’m pretty active on Kpop Twitter, and there’s a lot of “RPF DNI” accounts there, and I think that’s more of a “I just want to post about my favorite band without shippers quote retweeting/replying to make it about their ship, and if you do so, I’ll block you. They’ve made public statements against these ships or about their real relationships and I am uncomfortable with people trying to dispute that.”

Oh yes there’s absolutely antis who hate RPF communities and all they stand for. But there’s also people who just straight up don’t want that on their account.

And like. As someone casually involved with RPF (i gossip about potential relationships with close friends and will reblog joke posts about it and will read it, but I’m not a writer for it and I’m definitely not someone who actually tries to speculate just how heavy the “fiction” part of an RPF ship might be), whether or not I choose to follow a person with such DNI depends on context. I keep my RPF ships/opinions off my main account, and even if I DO see a post that I would otherwise interpret as possibly shippy, I just won’t bring it up on said person’s posts, you know?

Damn this made me remember I have a DNI myself on one my accounts, 🤣 I have a minors DNI on one of my sideblogs. But I know I can’t prevent minors from seeing my posts or lying about their age or reblogging to a private sideblog or doing anything else that would go unnoticed. But once I do notice you interacting, if you’re clearly underage I’ll block you, just cuz I don’t feel comfortable with minors following my smutty fanart account even if I know minors look at smutty fanart, as someone who did look at smutty fanart as a minor. . .🎶Maybe I’m the problem it’s me. 🎶

--

No.

It's a stupid phrasing and no amount of validity in the criteria will make it less stupid.

No one here thinks they're always deep and meaningful. What we all say every time this comes up is that it's bad to conflate "I will block you if..." and "It is your job to research my boundaries ahead of time".

I'm not interested in people crying about how they like using an inaccurate term and everyone is supposed to understand what they mean. In practice, many people do mean that it's other people's job to enforce their boundaries for them. Validating this garbage terminology just encourages them.

It's a stupid, shitty term and we should move away from it.

[waitmyturtles]

THE MORNING AFTER: ONLY FRIENDS, EPISODE 12 -- WHEN ONLY FRIENDS GOT 2GETHER-ED

TRIGGER WARNING: EVERYONE'S UP FOR CRITICISM HERE, JOJO AND TEAM, FORCEBOOK, FIRSTKHAO, ALL OF THEM. Read at your peril.

Well. Big deep breaths. I spent a lot of time on a show that had been marketed as not-a-BL, that ended as a BL. As a mom with not that much time to spend on watching and writing on dramas that were marketed incorrectly, I am feeling some kinda way (fucking pissed off).

So many people had amazing takes yesterday, on both sides of the aisle, regarding how the show ended (pro-ending here, anti-ending here, here, here, here, here, and here, and my dear friends @neuroticbookworm and @lurkingshan did heavy lifting on reblogs yesterday, so stroll on over to their blogs for more).

I want to set up a constellation of points to touch upon before I get into the meat of this post.

1) I referred quite a bit to my review of Theory of Love throughout my watch of Only Friends. In that review, I meditate on how the majority of the general global public judges sex, and casual sex, and people who have sex and/or casual sex. Generally speaking -- even in countries that makes as progressive art on sex and sexuality as Thailand and the United States -- that's a rule of thumb that I can rely on. Sex is judged by the majority of the global public.

2) I hate to say it. I cannot believe this happened. But I was right about monogamy being an ultimate theme in Only Friends. Not just a theme, fam. A theme by which people judged others for having open, casual, and consensual sex. Queer sex. Queer sex that is so very often had outside of the constraints of a monogamous relationship.

There was a reason why that holiday party was populated by couples, except for Boston, and Boston had to grovel to them in apology for their friendship. In Only Friends: monogamy wins, and casual queer sex loses.

3) Unfortunately, in part though an analysis of Cheum inside of last week that I accidentally started (ha), I see that points 1 and 2 come together to have created a fabric and framework of judgement that Only Friends ended on.

The last paragraph in this excellent post by @benkaaoi notes that the assumption by a large portion of the OF fandom that the creative choices that were made to end this series were designed to save the sanctity -- economic and otherwise -- of the shipped pairs of ForceBook and FirstKhao. This rings true to me.

Most of the BL shows that I've watched this year are older shows, through my Old GMMTV Challenge, in which I've been studying the changes over time that GMMTV and other Thai networks, have made towards their editorial choices, attitudes, and risks in producing BLs. I included Only Friends on this syllabus to note the show's impact as a kind of zeitgeist measure of how much heat and literary controversy GMMTV could take in airing increasingly progressive queer media -- even though Only Friends wasn't originally intended to be a BL.

To the theory that Only Friends needed to save the ships... and to another theory that the ships needed to be saved in the most moralistically judgmental way that I could have ever imagined (I was actually blown away by how heavy-handed this messaging was) -- I look to the ending of 2gether.

The majority general reaction to the ending of 2gether from within the existing BL fandom in 2020, was one of guffawed incredulousness. BrightWin/SarawatTine did not kiss in the first season of 2gether. It took Aof Noppharnach to come in to make Still 2gether to indicate that these two young men may have been at least vaguely sexual with each other throughout the course of their fictional relationship.

Yet, 2gether was a massive success. Many theorize it was because 2gether was the first big BL to air during the start of the COVID pandemic, and new BL fans had time to be at home and watch shows. But I posit in my 2gether/Still 2gether review that 2gether was also successful PRECISELY BECAUSE IT LACKED SEX (and by sex here, I mean plain old kissin').

As I stated earlier: sex is judged by the majority of the global public. With BrightWin NOT kissing, new fans who may have been implicitly and/or explicitly turned off by physical depictions of queer love could glom comfortably onto 2gether, and watch a BL without the "threat" of physical depictions of two men expressing their love to each other.

Subsequently, BrightWin gained massive social media followings, 2gether made GMMTV buckets of money, and GMMTV went -- well, hot diggity.

Many of us had impressions of Only Friends as...something else than it ended up being. Early on, Jojo Tichakorn, for instance, cited an early non-GMMTV, non-BL show, Gay OK Bangkok, that he and Aof Noppharnach worked on in 2016 and 2017, as being referential to Only Friends. Gay OK Bangkok centered on a group of queer friends, mostly cisgender men with Jennie Panhan in the mix, as they lived their lives and dated away in Bangkok.

I'll tell ya, GOKB didn't end the way Only Friends did, and I'll get into that more in a bit. I believe @benkaaoi, @lurkingshan, and others are absolutely right that the ultimate moralization on casual sex that this show depicted -- and how Only Friends punished Boston for his casual sex -- was an economic decision designed to reflect on the sanctity of monogamy that shipped couples like ForceBook and FirstKhao can sell back to their fans, fans that may have actually flocked to GMMTV shows from 2gether, and that demand a fantasy of devoted monogamy from both fictional characters and professional actors who are actually only just doing fan service to earn their livings. GMMTV has known for a long time how to make money, and money the network doth has made from Only Friends, and from shipping their ships around the world to service the growing fandom.

Casual sex in fiction, casual sex that breaks up the ships.... fucks that economic shit all up.

GMMTV has taught us our lesson, a lesson that we had already learned from the no-kissing rule of 2gether. Loose lips shall not sink ships at this network. And I think we lost a chance for a big and progressively artistic zeitgeist that GMMTV could have taken risks on, if it had the courage to risk depicting something truly novel.

I want to note quickly another framework that I dug into while I was watching this show. I sent a flare to @lurkingshan before I started watching the episode that I was going to, in part, watch this last episode from my personal Asian lens. I wanted to ask myself, as I was watching this disaster -- is there anything happening here that strikes my heart with fear and doom as an Asian?

Indeed, yes. I didn't expect it, but there was a dialogue on individualism vs. collectivism.

Boston. My dear, sweet Boston. Boston, named after a city so very distant from Bangkok.

Boston was punished by his group of friends because he didn't adhere to the rules of the group. His individualistic actions and preferences -- his preferences to "roll alone," as Nick stated, would not work in the frameworks of either monogamy with Nick and/or the group dynamics of the hostel crew.

The link I linked above is an amazing answer to an inquiry I posed to dear @absolutebl last year about how Asian social collectivist paradigms are depicted in BLs. In that question-and-answer dialogue, I asked ABL Sensei about the motif of queer revelations in BLs, and how seemingly straight characters respond in kind to being approached with a proposition to a queer dalliance and/or relationship. Generally speaking, the Asian collectivist mindset is to at least attempt to respond in kind to those kinds of propositions, as one's behavioral habits are designed to be responsive to others instinctually, as opposed to only servicing oneself. To only service oneself is not only seen as selfish, but also as disturbing to the general flow of public existence among one's societies. To respond in kind means that you will not cause potentially disturbing angst to another individual or group. (Collectivism explains why Asian countries performed much better with mask mandates during the pandemic than we in the States did.)

So -- Boston filming Ray, Boston sleeping with Top, created waves in the friend group. He was so severely punished for it.

And the show iterates, and repeats, Nick's preference that Boston move forward alone in Boston's life, because of Boston's tendencies to make decisions that suit himself. As an Asian-American, I mutter to myself: god forbid.

Nick will not commit to Boston -- and yet, will also condemn Boston for making his own decisions outside of the specter of a monogamy that does not exist between Nick and Boston, and that Boston will still get judged for, as referenced in the Sand/Nick conversation depicted above.

In other words: if Boston makes a decision for himself? That's punishable. Because it might hurt someone else's feelings -- a someone else that actually hasn't committed to Boston, and/or allowed Boston to commit himself to.

This group caught Boston in a moralistic and collectivist catch-22, the likes of which I just would have never expected from Jojo and team, even if the creative team faced the economic pressures of the GMMTV bigwigs. I'm sorry to state that I am beyond disappointed in this condemnation of individualism, sending Boston alone, judged, and friendless, off to New York City to live in, what, the immoral boundaries of Chelsea? Homey, get a fucking SWEET-ASS PAD, and FUCK THESE LOSERS, leave 'em BEHIND in your cloud of airplane gas emissions. See you at the La Quinta rooftop bar on 32nd Street, friendo.

Only Friends could have ended so much better. And I understand that in the Only Friends novel, published AFTER the script was finished, that it did end somewhat better for Boston (cc @jinitak, reporting from Thailand, thank you for this heads-up about the novel!).

So. Any-fucking-way. Do y'all know how Gay OK Bangkok ended?

Of many lovely endings for the various GOKB characters, an older main character, Aof, was dating a much younger character, Big. (CC to @neuroticbookworm for our quick convo on this last night.)

Aof was sex-averse. Big wanted lots of sex. Big slept with a lot of people. He loved Aof. Aof couldn't handle Big having sex with other people, and they broke up. It was a lovingly handled break-up, written just gorgeously by Aof Noppharnach.

After their break-up, I thought Big would disappear from the show. Instead. Instead! Nong Big, the little brother to the core group of queer friends that centered GOKB, was welcomed back with open arms. Arm, Pom, Sathang (played by an effervescent Jennie Panhan), and others toasted to Big, telling him he would always be family, no matter if him and his ex, Aof, had broken up. In the queer circles of friends that I'm a part of, exes are not as commonly excommunicated as they are in straight circles.

Only Friends could have been this. Something, a little something, like this.

Instead, Only Friends punished a friend for acting outside of the rules of their group.

Boston was punished because.... because Only Friends had to end up being a BL. For the sake of the moolah, for the sake of collectivism, for the sake of the shippers who'll buy tickets around the world to see ForceBook and FirstKhao perform fan service on stage.

I just didn't think that the show would be so brutal, on so many levels, in the end, to people who want to have casual sex. I don't think any of us expected this. But, it's over, it's done, and the piece has been said -- GMMTV said, no casual sex today, and here's how we actually feel about it.

I'll see you over on Gagaoolala for Playboyy. Deuces, OF.

(It was an absolute pleasure writing meta with the Ephemerality Squad -- onto the next one! @lurkingshan @neuroticbookworm @ranchthoughts @twig-tea @slayerkitty @thatgirl4815 @distant-screaming @clara-maybe-ontheroad)

[yoo-jeongneon]

you were not in my plans.. | j.ww (teaser)

× minors/ageless/empty blogs dni. you will be blocked. ×

× main masterlist × pairing: jeon wonwoo x gn!reader (afab for smut) genre: romance, comedy, drama warnings: best man!wonwoo, wedding planner!reader, jeongcheol are the fiancés, wonwoo is cheol's best man, past one night stand, (sort-of)strangers-to-lovers, awkward situations, romantic/sexual tension, smut/eventual smut, explicit language, more tba.. projected word count: 5k-10k, but could be more teaser word count: 806 drop me an ask/comment if you'd like to be added to a taglist!

× from cakes ruined at the last minute to entourage arguments at boutiques, being a wedding planner has been such an experience that you're quite literally prepared for anything at this point.. apart from finding out the best man for your new clients' wedding is the guy you had a one-night stand with six weeks ago. you weren't prepared for that. ×

A sweltering day at the height of summer. No cloud to be seen in the sky, it's the middle of the day, and the bag you're carrying may as well have clumps of lead in it.

For the first meeting with new clients, it's always pertinent to you to bring everything you feel is absolutely necessary. Magazines, portfolios, your laptop for research and the star of it all: your planner.

Old thing, it was. You've had it with you since you first started this career and somehow you hadn't filled it to its brim. With each new planning session you wept a shadow of a tear at the thought of needing to replace it, but today is not that day.

When you arrive at the house, you first take note of its exterior, then pull out your phone and whip straight to your emails just to make sure you have got the right address..

One check, brilliant. No need to amble around aimlessly.

Popping your phone back in your pocket, you readjust the stone on your shoulder before trudging up to the front door. A loud huff leaves your lips as you press the doorbell, then shift gears to a polite smile, ready to tackle the first of many meetings.

Within seconds the door opens. A man with blonde hair beams at the sight of you. "Ah! You must be the wedding planner!"

Your teeth gleam to challenge the sun as you extend your right hand, "That would be me! N, it's nice to meet you."

"Hi, N." He takes your hand and shakes it. "I'm Seungcheol." Seungcheol lets go then yells into the house, "Jeonghan! It's N, the wedding planner!"

"Oh! Give me one second," calls another man's voice. Immediately you register the names to make sure you don't forget them.

Seungcheol looks back at you. "Come in!" His smile grows and he steps to the side. You give him an appreciative nod and take one step into the house.

The scent of cooking wafts straight into your airspace and you catch a tiny glimpse of a man scurrying around in the kitchen. Seungcheol moves to stand beside you and says, "Oh! By the way, my best man is here."

This catches you by surprise, though it's not entirely uncommon. You have had clients in the past have their friends and relatives sit with them during meetings.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, he's in the living ro- Oh, there he is."

Seungcheol gestures vaguely past your shoulder and you pivot.

In the doorway to the living room, a man with dark, tousled hair, wearing a simple, casual outfit with a pair of glasses, stands with his shoulder pressed against the frame. At that moment, Jeonghan calls for Seungcheol, and Seungcheol is gone in a flash.

The second you lock eyes, something feels off.

The best man stares at you for an incomprehensible amount of time, to the point you cock a brow and defensively say, "Can I help you?" It's not exactly the best foot forward to make enemies right out the gate, but this man's eyes are a little too fixed on your person for your liking..

When the words leave your lips, he becomes a ghost. He averts his gaze and looks directly at the floor, stuffing his hands in his pockets and gnawing at his lip. "S- Sorry." There's something else he wants to say but just won't.

For some reason, it's bothering you.

But not just that.. he's bothering you.

Not really because he stared at you - though that was rather uncomfortable - no, there's something else.

You look askance and delicately place your bag on the floor. This is now starting to eat away at you and you don't understand where this has come from.

Taking a chance to look at him again, you start trying to place what exactly it is that is so.. bizarre about this meeting.

It's almost as if you've met before.

Before you can fit the puzzle together, the fiancés leave the kitchen; Jeonghan greets you, elated to finally get started with the planning. He notices the man in the doorway and makes a gentle, playful quip about it.

"Oh, I see you've met the best man," he giggles.

"N- Not exactly.." you fumble to say, which in and of itself is incredibly ridiculous.

The best man steps forward and makes himself known. You give him his full attention, and trip at the sight of his outstretched hand.

"Hi. I'm Wonwoo."

His tone is polite, neutral and almost suave. A hint of a smile clips through the corners of his mouth and it's then that it finally clicks.

Two tequila shots. Dancing. A bed. His voice.

When you take his hand, lightning strikes on his face.

"Hi. I'm N."

Familiarity, with a fresh side of what the absolute fuck.

× yoo-jeongneon ×

[kodaiki]

PLSSS WE NEED JEALOUS SNEAKY LINK AOMINE. 😩

a/n: ty for this thirst anon it’s been sitting in my drafts for a while but I finally wrote it !!! if y’all wanna give me more vague prompts like this IM SO DOWN <3333 this is unedited oops. minors and ageless blogs do not interact !!

wc: 4.4k

cw: car sex, riding, creampie, protected sex (reader is on birth control, slight mention of alcohol, afab!reader

“you go out first- wait, fix your tie,” you stammer, reaching for the taller man’s collared shirt, adjusting it in addition to fixing the dark tie hung around it, pulled lose from your doing probably.

fwb!aomine only stares down at you with an easy expression, eyes glinting in satisfaction by the deep flush of your cheeks and slight disheveled appearance. he didn’t even go far, only making out with you and some light grinding in the back corner of the bar where no one could see. yet still, you’re flustered expression makes it look like you went far beyond that.

“thank you,” he murmurs hoarsely, tipping his head downward to send a chill down your back. “you know it’s coming off later anyway right?” he says coolly, bringing a hand up to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. you squeak at the insinuation of his words, quickly glaring at him afterward.

“aomine-!”

“daiki,” he corrects lowly, retracting his hand.

“-don’t just say stuff like that!”

the dark haired man only laughs at you, not in the condescending way like he usually did, but more lighthearted, more amused if anything.

“sorry, sorry,” he apologizes but the grin on his face contradicts his message entirely. “i’ll be going then.” he pats your cheek gently, leaning down once more to press a chaste kiss to your lips.

aomine leaves you alone in the corner to collect yourself, both physically and mentally. the burn in your stomach makes you frown, both in frustration and discomfort, just by the doing of the raven haired man alone. 

you spend the next few minutes tugging at your dress, a pretty floral dress, as to how it was earlier in the evening during dinner, and patting down your hair, in hopes it wasn’t too much of a mess. the flush of your cheeks still burns at the entire recent event making you wonder how aomine could always appear so calm and casual.

you and daiki aomine are not a couple. definitely not.

but you sure as hell ain’t just friends either.

from what you recall, your... relationship began around six months prior at a reunion with your friends from college; it'd been only a year since you all graduated.

you'd all gone separate ways through your respective careers and though you did manage to see your friends on different occasions or when you were free, it was never the whole lot of you as it is right now.

so, those six months ago, the reunion, having taken place at a bar, set the perfect stage for the two off you. you and aomine had been the last ones of the friend group to leave the bar, having settled on two bar stools, updating the other about what had gone on in your lives. one thing led to another, alcohol and the bar's romantic aura playing a significant role, and you ended up going home with him. from that moment forward, it became an unspoken thing, a physical relationship for either of your needs.

once you’re seated, you send a pressed grin to the rest of the table, hopeful that no one saw through your lie about using the restroom.

briefly, you glance over at aomine who’s already immersed in a conversation with kagami, hand wrapped around the beer he most likely ordered as a ploy for why he was gone for so long. he's pulled up his sleeves, cuffing them, showing off a peek of the tattood sleeve he has on his left arm. as if feeling your stare, he averts his gaze for a split second, looking at you, offering you a raised brow.

you scrunch your nose at the way you can read his mind.

already wanting more, the mischievous glint in his eye says all. he eyes the front door of the restaurant, as if saying let's get out of here, followed by a cheeky smile behind the beer bottle he's about to take a swig of.

you scoff quietly at that, shaking your head at his brazenness.

"what about you, y/n?"

"hm, what?" you're brought out of your staring contest with aomine by the light chime beside you. you turn to face kise who's smiling rather mischievously at you. "sorry what was the question?"

"have you been out on dates throughout the year? midorimacchi says he's too busy and kurokocchi is gatekeeping his relationship with momoi," he says with a pout, tilting his head down at you.

"oh! uh, nope, no dates," you reveal with a nervous laugh. it isn't exactly a lie. all those times aomine's come over your place and you to his, you don't really consider dates and you're sure he doesn't either. confirming your thoughts, when you glance over at the man, he simply twitches an eyebrow upward in a playful manner.

"wha- really?" kise comments incredulously. "i sincerely doubt that."

"why?" you can't help but ask with a confused expression, furrowing your brows at him. it seems the rest of the table has settled into teir own conversation with the person or persons beside him, leaving you and kise to chat.

"well, i mean, you're pretty! i'd think people would've asked you out during the year," he admits a bit bashfully, rubbing a hand behind his neck. you think nothing of it, simply waving him off as being nice.

"you're too sweet," you sighing, flicking your hand downward. "besides, i've been too busy with work anyway so dates aren't really on my priority list."

"awh, c'mon really?" kise croons out, jutting out his lower lips. "what if i asked you out?"

"hm?" your brows furrow, full attention straying from the near empty plat of food in front of you to the blonde sitting beside you.

"would you go if i asked you out?" his tone is cheeky, warm, something you understand as a joke or a bit for you to play along with.

"very cheeky," you scoff out with an amused eye roll.

you don't catch the minuscule falter in kise's expression at your lack of awareness, but he quickly recovers when akashi across the table bids his attention, brining him into another conversation.

it isn't until the mini conversation is over that you feel burning into your temple, causing you to look up, only to meet the hard stare aomine's sending your way. your brows knit together in slight confusion, wondering how his expression could change so quickly from calm and lighthearted to seemingly pissed off.

you mouth out a 'you okay?' as to not draw attention to the whole table. you stomach only sinks when he's responds with nothing but a scoff into the bottle, turning his attention away from you and back to kagami in front of him.

the rest of dinner goes rather smoothly, minus aomine's deep frown, with only chatter about the nostalgia of your memories from college, high school and beyond.

"is he alright?" kagami murmurs to you as he helps you with your coat as you all gather to leave. "he seemed a little off toward the end of the night."

you give the taller man a pressed, yet clueless, smile. "no idea. i'll try to ask him about it." you glance over at him whose chin is dropped close to his chest as he stares rather pointedly at you, awaiting you near the front door. "and now he's getting impatient. i'll see you soon!"

you quickly bid your friends goodbye, hastily following aomine back to his car, since he'd dropped you off to the dinner in the first place.

the car ride home is excruciatingly quiet, only the radio and rumble of the car's gas filling your ears as aomine stares straight ahead at the road, tightly gripping the steering wheel.

"daiki-" you attempt to break the silence, but your voice falls in your throat. you shiver in your seat, bringing your thin jacket closer to you in hopes for more warmth. you can't tell if it's the car's cool temperature or aomine's cold aura that's freezing you.

at your movement, aomine slightly relaxes, nonchalantly bringing a hand to his car's controls and turning down the air condition.

"i'm sure kise was only being friendly," you quickly blurt, seizing the opportunity to speak when this is the first time he's so much as twitched since the two of you entered the car. that must be what it's about, right? "you know he's naturally like that."

like that, you say since you're too worried at striking a nerve for even so much as calling him flirty.

you can't tell if the man beside you likes or dislikes your answer anyway but his clenched jaw makes you think it's the latter.

you don't even know why he's so agitated by it; an old friend casually flirted with you, so what? it was in kise's character to be the friendly type and aomine's known him longer than you have; wouldn't he be more accustomed to that?

the man beside you only hums out in response, no acknowledgment in the form of a turn of his head or mere eye contact through side-eyes.

sure, you were close to aomine in more ways than one, but never did you think something as minor as a slight flirt from kise could get on his nerves. he's always been at least a little protective of you since you'd first met in college, steering you away from sleazes and guys he knew were no good. but as far as your concerned, kise's not one of those guys so why on earth is he so upset?

was it something you said?

maybe it had nothing to do with the fact that it was kise flirting with you but the fact that you accepted it? brushing and laughing it off giving him a hunch you liked the guy? that was far from the case but you could see the misunderstanding.

you grasp at another opportunity to speak to him when he parks in front of your apartment building, putting the car in park with the adjustment of his gearshift. quickly covering his hand with yours before he could pull away, you try again. "daiki," you start seriously, worry lacing your tone. "what is it?"

for the first time since you've left the restaurant, he turns to face you and looks at you. his stern expression, knitted brows and deep glare softens when he sees your wide, curious eyes and small frown.

god, he hates the way he's feeling. aomine never feels like this. never angry about some guy, much less some guy interacting with you.

"kise has a crush on you."

aomine's words come out stern and matter-of-fact, throwing you off guard. it's the first thing he's said for a while so that? that wasn't what you were expecting.

"he ... huh?" you attempt to blink away your confusion, batting your lashes at the man beside you quizzically.

it didn't help every face you made made you so damn cute either, aomine thinks as he pushes his tongue into the side of his cheek to keep from so much as smiling at your expression.

"kise," he tries again, raising a brow, "got the hots for you. 'heard him talking about it with tetsu."

your nose scrunches at his choice of words, internally scoffing at hots for you, but you choose to verbally disregard it.

"oh," you murmur, averting your eyes from his. "that's ... funny." you can't help but chuckle awkwardly, detesting the awkwardness settled in the air of aomine's car. the car's been in park for a while now, lights overhead since dimmed and the only light providing you a decent look at the man's facial expressions are from the ones lined up on the streets outside.

"funny?" aomine repeats, turning to you. "how so?"

swallowing the lump in your throat, you mumble out, "i just, don't like him like that. 'can't really."

"you can't..." aomine drawls off with a deadpanned tone, eyes squinting slightly as he tries to analyze your words.

"i can't when there's someone else..." you trail off, hiding the deep flush of your face by turning your whole body toward the passenger's side door, in hopes of escaping the car and bidding aomine a good night.

"hey." he gently grabs your forearm before you could push open the door. "look at me." you glance at yourself in the reflection of his tinted window, lips twisting into an embarrassed pout.

you crane your neck around to face him once more, only to raise a brow, feigning nonchalance. "thanks for the ride dai-"

"y/n." his tone makes you shut up immediately and your throat runs dry. "wanna elaborate on that?" he asks knowingly. it's a request you know, but his intonation clearly says that he'll receive your answer regardless.

"not really," you whisper out a little breathlessly. shit, is the car getting warmer or is it truly just the flush of your cheeks?

he simply raises a brow at you as you slouch in his leathered seats, somewhat defeated by his gaze on you.

"i think you should," he chuckles out dryly, bringing his other hand up to brush a strand of hair that fell in front of your face and tucks it behind your ear. instinctively, your head moves forward, further into the palm of his hand to which he gently rubs a thumb along the pad of your cheek.

"i think i shouldn't," you murmur out. your eyes don't stray from his while you lightly nibble at your lower lip. the air suddenly feels thick and you nearly shift in your shift to pull away from aomine's deep stare. for whatever reason, the hazy air has you drawing forward where you both meet just above the gearshift, making his hand slip up your jaw to the side of your neck.

"why not?" he murmurs out, his face so close to yours, his breath fans over your lips.

how do you not sound like a total dork in this intimate, smooth context saying, i think it's funny because it's not kise i like, it's you, my strictly platonic friends with benefits?

well, if you can't say it, might as well show it, right?

so, you inhale deeply before seizing your lips with his. you bring your hands around the dark necktie he's wearing, crinkling it between your fist and tugging him closer to you, deepening the kiss.

aomine immediately reciprocates, bringing your face between both of his large hands, tilting your head slightly. you can't tell if he's reciprocating because he understands your message or he's just so accustomed to kissing you like this; either way, you're not complaining.

it seems to get sloppier as more time passes, evident by your restlessness. you hum into his mouth, hands going up to grip at the short hands behind his ears, tugging slightly.

in one swift movement, he jerks his seat back, as far back as possible to allow more room, and greedily guides you over the console to plop you on his lap. your lips never separate, only to release a breathy chuckle at the squeak you make when your knee clumsily hits the top of the gearshift on your way over.

you settle your lower back against the bottom of the steering wheel, careful not to trigger the car horn, separating your face from his in order to reach for the buttons along the front of his shirt, having pulled off his tie already. aomine chases your lips anyway, leaning forward to press open-mouthed kisses along the side of your mouth, trailing down your jaw and neck.

"y'so pretty," he says, though it's muffled from his contact on your skin. "my pretty."

his hands grasp at your waist, pulling you flush against him now that you're finished unbuttoning his shirt, pressing you down firmer against his dress pants, unmistakably on the bulge that's his boner.

"shouldn't we go inside?" you mumble, quickly looking side to side, out the windows of his car in case of any onlookers.

"need you now." is all he answers, no inclination to let go of you anytime soon. "besides, tinted windows." he says, lightly knocking against the glass, easing your concerns. it's also rather late, so the chances of someone catching you - however that could happen - are relatively low.

he peels the flimsy lace straps straps of your dress, a short floral one aomine decides he likes, down your arms, no bother letting you pull out your arms. he pulls down the front of your dress, eliciting a gasp from you at his eagerness, freeing your breasts. whatever warm air you were mentally complaining about earlier must've been in your head because your nipples pebble nearly immediately.

he returns to your lips, hands drifting upward to cup and grab at your breasts, smiling against the kiss when you croon and sigh into his mouth.

your fingers tangle through his dark locks as he begins dipping his head lower and lower down your chest before reaching the valley between your breasts. he's particularly gentle with this area, placing chaste kisses along the domes, but he's merciless with your nipples. his fingers roll around one while his mouth latches the other, tongue swirling around the bud and teeth pulling at it, making you throw your neck back as breathy moans escape you.

you press down firmer against him as he gives the other nipple the same love, rolling your hips against his front, begging for any sort of friction between your clothed core and his.

receiving your message loud and clear, he detaches himself, forming a line of spit connecting your bud and his lips.

"daiki," you breathe out desperately. "i want you."

"yeah?" he asks, shuffling out of his dress shirt, now slightly sheer with sweat, allowing you a full view of his torso and upper body. your eyes ogle his arms, tan and toned, muscles of his biceps bulging as he holds you. your eyes drift to the tatted sleeve across his entire left arm, memories of all the times you've grasped and scratched ta it while he was under and over you in similar situations – well, maybe not so similar since this was the first time you've fucked in his car.

normally aomine would tease you, continuing to ask how bad you want him, but seeing you like this: glassy-eyed look, splayed out just for him in the dim lights of the streetlights outside his car; only he gets to see you like this.

and fuck, he loves that.

"'want you, too," he settles on, pressing his lips to yours once more, lifting you by the ass to hike up your dress up your hips where is bunches at your waist, meeting with the top of your dress. meanwhile, you busy yourself, blindly feeling around his crotch area for the button and zipper of his dress pants until finding them.

no wonder car sex is usually done in the back seat, you can't help but think as you watch aomine shove down his pants enough to allow enough room for his cock to spring free. there's hardly any room up here.

"y/n, you can't-"

"s'okay," you slur, leveling yourself over his standing cock, only pushing your panties, a pretty pink lacy pair you'd much rather save than risk getting ripped off, to the side, readying to lower yourself. "'need your dick."

"you're not prepped." aomine grunts when his head brushes over your entrance. "it'll hurt." he can't help but let worry seep into his tone, another indication that what he feels for you is beyond more than a fuck buddy relationship.

"it's okay," you repeat anyway, mind too foggy to back down. "just go slow."

aomine can't argue with that, not when you sound so firm and stubborn while literally hovering just over him. grasping at your hips, he aids you in sinking down on his dick, making him seethe at the tight fit.

your arms wrap around his broad shoulders, tucking your head into his neck, damp with sweat but your don't mind.

"i got you," aomine coos, rubbing your back soothingly. "just let me know when to move."

it's when he's caring like this, a stark contrast than how he shows off to other people, that gets your stomach doing somersaults and heart rate going erratic.

you don't know how long you're sat like that, eyes shut as you grow accustomed to the stretch of his dick, it could be seconds, minutes. after a small while, you lift your head from his shoulder. "okay, i'm good, you can start moving."

he simply nods down at you, eyes darkened, yet still showing that same fondness he usually has when you're this close and intimate, gently wiping some sweat on your forehead with the side of his hand before bringing it back to your hips. slowly, while gripping at your hips firmly, he lifts you up before dropping you back down, in addition to thrusting himself up into you.

soon enough, the only sounds heard in the car are the slapping of wet skin and the moans and guttural groans coming from the two of you. fog sticks to the glass of the car windows, darkening the lighting inside the car even further.

you use his shoulders as leverage while you bounce above him, meanwhile his teeth clash and glade along your throat, most likely littering love marks. his hands have slid down to your ass, squeezing and kneading at the fat of it as he guides you up and down his shaft.

"so good," you chant out, so often, it may be the only words you can say.

"made f'me," aomine grunts, speeding up his pace when he feels the knot in his stomach begin to tighten. "all for me."

"for... you," you affirm, mind foggier with lust than before. "only for you. all for you." you're babbling at this point, words you can't filter but not necessarily untrue.

"i'm close," he warns, making you nod profusely as if iterating you are, too. "you gonna cum? want you to cum 'round my cock."

"mhm, mhm!" you hum, losing yourself in his relentless pace.

it's a prior conversation that made aomine known to the fact that your on the pill, something you'd drilled into him the first night you slept together when he'd asked where he should release.

"you're so pretty like this, f'me. mine," he blurts, watching the area where your pussy meets his dick, disappearing and reappearing with every thrust.

"yours!"

"love this pussy." after some sloppy thrusts upwards, no doubt from him chasing his high, he lets out a deep groan, cock twitching inside you as warm ropes of cum paint your walls. "i love you."

aomine doesn't stop, however, with a new mission to let you finish. he continues to thrust into you, riding through his orgasm as he aids you in chasing yours. he bounces you up and down more firmly than before, focusing on pressure instead of speed. tears stream down your cheeks, mascara probably running under your eyes.

"c'mon baby, cum for me," he urges.

that seems to do the job because with one final jerk of his hips upward, you freeze above him, shaking as your orgasm takes over. your limp on his lip, muscles aching as a clearish-white ring of cum settles around the base of aomine's dick.

he carefully lifts you off his softened dick, plopping you on his thighs and continues to hold you close in his arms, warm hands gently rubbing at the flesh of your ass and hips where his probably brutal grip was. "you okay?"

you nod against him, bringing a hand up to trace absentmindedly along his chest. it isn't until you're clearer in the head that you've registered his words, shyly averting your gaze from his.

did he mean that? or was it an in the moment thing?

"dai," you murmur quietly.

"yeah?" he asks hoarsely, tilting his head down in attempt to meet your gaze.

"you um, said something before," you trail off, hoping you wouldn't have to outright repeat it in case it causes awkwardness within the small space of his car.

aomine knows exactly what you're talking about. although what he said was amidst being balls deep in you with nothing but you and his high on his mind, he was completely honest in saying them.

he could either run away from it, claiming it as a slip of the tongue accident that he didn't really mean in hopes of preserving your strict fuck buddy relationship, or he could risk it all; risk that you don't feel the same yet still come clean about his own feelings.

when it came to you, aomine has the urge to be nothing but truthful.

"i meant it," he answers seriously. "i know what we have is strictly physical but if i'm being honest i think i've loved you since college but i was too dumb or stubborn to admit it to myself."

you release a breath you don't realize you've been holding, finally gaining the courage to look up and face him.

he looks away from you this time, choosing to glance at the fogged up windows. "it's alright if you don't feel the same, just thought i'd-"

you don't let him continue beyond that, quickly pecking his lips to cut him off. when he averts his gaze back to you, your lips curl up into a small smile. "i love you, too."

he smiles at that, a genuine, happy one albeit tired from the prior engagement, and leans his forehead against yours. it's a moment before he mutters, "it's getting pretty sticky, right? we should head inside."

"yeah," you quickly agree, hastily fixing your dress to look the least bit presentable for anyone who may be in your apartment's lobby.

the two of you step out of the car, sighing in the much cooler night air contrasting aomine's car's warm, sex-ridden air. "and dai?" you ask as he shuts his car door.

"hm?"

"if you were just jealous of kise, y'coulda just said so." a knowing grin curls up your lips as you face aomine. he only deadpans at you for a mere moment before pressing a kiss to your temple with a low chuckle, hinting that whatever happened at dinner no longer concerns him.

ʚĭɞ reblogs and interaction always appreciated! ʚĭɞ

[no1internethero]

ASK AMERICA 🤤🎉🥂🥂

aph america askblog run by hellonerf 🙂 you send a question and ame responds

general content warning from here for the usual stuff u see on my blog like gore suicide etc and caname lol im not even gonna lie theres probably gonna be caname here (all will be tagged for ur convenience)

info below

this blog is meant to be casual 👍 i'll put particular info here. the url is a nso reference. if ur used to the shit i post on hellonerf then u can get a vague idea of what ill post here if u dont know what the shit i post on hellonerf is and ur new um sorry its basically whats in the general cw

rules

i do whatever i want 🤤😴😴

dont start shit plz i die from internet arguments its rly horrible my brain straight up dies nojoke

if i dont wanna answer or post ur ask for whatever reason i will just not 🤷‍♂️ refer to rule one

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not a rule but im braindead and so is my ame keep that in mind

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every ask ame will be answered with a drawing this is not a rule im allowed to break it whenever i want

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when i am ooc talking or me talking whatever i will tag it with #mun and post will be red. when something is posted with ask i will tag #without ask. all askposts will be tagged with #ask and all posts probably #ask aph america or #ask ame 🙂

[digital-domain]

Coffee Break

Here is a short, relatively tame bit of L x reader smut I wrote when I was 18 (because I haven't finished anything new yet and we need some CONTENT on this blog)

Word Count: 1500 (yes, exactly 1500!)

Pairing: L x Reader

Content tags: oral sex, first time

Synopsis: L’s gotten used to you, a task force agent, casually stopping by while he works on the Kira case. He can barely admit to himself that he wants more from you, but he might not have to...

Written from L's perspective :)

You bring me coffee sometimes. You set it down between me and the computer screen, and tell me that you added enough sugar to make it taste good. You usually haven’t added enough, but I don’t particularly mind.

What you haven’t realized is that I have no difficulty staying awake when I’m working on a case that interests me. I actually only ever have difficulty with falling asleep. It would be more efficient for both of us if you stopped bringing me coffee. But you keep doing it, and I don’t tell you to stop. I should tell you to stop, but I don’t, and I tell myself that surely you wouldn’t keep fetching drinks for me if it was a serious hindrance to your work. You only come visit me, and my dark room, and my glowing computer monitor, for the good of the case. It’s completely rational.

I have to be rational - I know that no distraction is more important than this puzzle, this chase, the net I’m weaving from this room, and so I don’t talk to you for long when you visit. You ask me how things are going - you always ask such vague questions - and I tell you that I’m making progress. I feel tempted to tell you this even when it isn’t true. This may be because I believe you’ll be more successful in your work if your morale is high. There are other possibilities, as well.

Not knowing is unfamiliar, and it bothers me. I don’t know why I want to stop you from worrying, or why I drink your coffee every night even when you’ve gotten the sugar ratio all wrong. And I don’t know why you take the time to bring me coffee at all, because I don’t really believe that your motivations are rational. I do believe that you would sit down next to me, if I had a second chair. But I’m still not quite sure why, and I’d like to know with 100% accuracy before I make any decisions.

Of course, the probability goes down to 0% if no one decides anything...

You bring sugar packets with the coffee tonight. You smile and say, “I thought that you might want to do it yourself. I can tell when you don’t like it, you know.”

I didn’t know, but I make note of it. “Thank you,” I say. “I find coffee disgusting by itself. I prefer hot chocolate, actually.”

Your face turns a bit pink, and you say, “I’m sorry. I could bring you that tomorrow.” I want to invite you to sit down, but there is still only one chair in the room. I should have planned for this. There’s a reason I didn’t. I’m productive alone. I’m a genius, alone. Still...

“Coffee’s fine,” I say. “The sugar makes it much better.” My yawn afterwards is performative, but the exhaustion it belies is certainly real.

“You’ve got bags under your eyes,” you say. Then you flush, again. You color the most at the high points of your cheeks. “They don’t look bad or anything. I just - you seem really tired.”

“I am,” I say. “I’ve had approximately six hours of sleep in the last two nights, and I need at least five per night to function at full capacity. It’s not ideal.”

“Definitely not.” You don’t look tired, although you’ve been awake late, as well. You have bright eyes, and they’re still bright now. Long eyelashes, too. And I like the pink in your cheeks. I’d like it to stay there.

“Why do they send you every night?” I ask.

“They don’t send me,” you say.

I smile, lean back on my heels, and tear open a sugar packet.

“Do you need anything else?” you ask. “Other than sleep.”

I empty a second packet, then a third. “Nothing, besides a breakthrough.”

“Or maybe just a break.” Your tone has changed, now, although I don’t quite know how, or what it’s meant to reflect. I find it relaxing, though, enough that I let myself slide from crouching to sitting in my chair. “Perhaps. A short break could actually improve my efficiency tonight.” I pause, here. My mind really is slower when I’m sitting down.

“Do you want company?” You lean over the desk, and your hand lands close to mine. You smile white and you blush pink, and a lock of hair falls over your eye.

There is no chair. I could say yes, if there was one. But there is no chair, because I planned to make myself work alone, even if you came, when you came -

“I’ll sit on the floor,” you say. “Don’t worry.”

I nod my assent, and you take your seat, leaning back on your hands. When I talk to you, I lean over the arm of my chair. “I’ve calculated some probabilities you might be interested in,” I say.

“With all due respect to your brilliance, I don’t think I need you to tell me.” You look up at me from the floor and take hold of the seat of my chair. It turns on its base if you move it, and you pull it until I’ve turned 90 degrees to face you. “They really don’t send me to visit you. I come all by myself.”

I like the sight of you underneath me, so much that I feel compelled to turn my gaze away. It lands on the coffee cup, open, full nearly to the brim. “You don’t have to bring anything,” I say. “Next time. You can just come up. Talk to me.”

From the corner of my eye, I see you tilt your head, and your hair fall away from your face. “Won’t that be a distraction?”

“Yes.” I turn away from the coffee cup and look at you, sitting at my feet as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. I’m not used to feeling this chair at my back. I’m not used to feeling this - this.

You giggle - it’s unnatural, hearing such a light sound in this place - and pull yourself closer. “Well, then. What should we talk about?”

“I don’t know,” I say. “I’m not very good at... that.” There’s a decent chance that you want to come even closer, but my legs are in the way. And it would be vulgar to part them. Presumptuous. Especially considering what you’ve surely already noticed -

“We’ll be quiet, then.” You rise to your knees and push the offending limbs to either side. “There are other things worth doing.”

You deserve a better light than the harsh glow of a computer. You deserve a better place, and a better reason than - what? An attraction to intelligence, maybe, or pity -

I don’t let myself go down that train of thought. For once - just this once - I can leave something unconsidered.

You’ve tied back some of your hair. I can see your face, and watch your tongue, softer than any hand, brush over me for the first time. I don’t wonder how I taste, or how I compare - these are thoughts for later. You’re slow, at first, and warm. Some of your hair falls out of its tie and laps at my skin, but you pay it no mind. You tease me, you coax me, you cover me, and I shudder when you pull away.

There’s saliva hanging from your lips, and I feel the urge to reach down and spread it across your face. “If you want to,” you say, “push my head down at the end. I’ll like it.”

I lean back in my chair - now, it feels like my throne - and grip the armrests. There’s not an inch you haven’t touched, but I still want you to take more. I could make you take it, I realize, shove down and shove up and fuck your throat until you’re tugging back against my hand. But I wait. You’re better than I ever could have imagined, and you only said at the end...

I want you like this every night. I can take the time. I can earn it. In front of my eyes flashes a picture of how you might look with your shirt unbuttoned, or on your knees with nothing at all. Every night, every night, every single night - I take the back of your head and pull you tight between my hips, driving everything I have into you.

You take it easily and smile and sit back on your heels. “We don’t have to talk,” you say. “I’ll bring you another coffee tomorrow night.” Your hair comes down, and I push mine back from my face.

“Tomorrow,” I repeat. Tomorrow, and the night after, and the next...

You grab a sugar packet before you leave. It takes a minute for me to laugh at this, and another several before I can turn back to the work ahead of me.