#//i forgot the tag i’ll figure it out tomorrow

[cielenruine]

a gautier in training

[gothsuguru]

getting an iced pumpkin chai in the morning and then my personal goal is to spend the whole day writing and i hope i can come back to this post tomorrow and rb w how much progress i’ve made!!!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

End Game 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn't go exactly as planned.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: get ready for the hate.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The tunnel lights up ahead of you, revealing the cubic rock walls as you plant torches in your stead. The eerie soundtrack of night time and the ominous groan of zombies looming somewhere in the cave have you uptight. Silently, you press on, digging and mining mindlessly, fingers mashing the buttons on your controller. 

“Hey, where are you?” Jacob’s voice startles you. 

You nearly forgot you’re playing co-op. You sniff and shake your head, cursing aloud as your shock has you succumbing to the arrow of a sneaky skeleton. You sigh as your possessions scatter and you spawn back in your bed. 

“Back home,” you say glumly, “just ate it.” 

“Ah, damn,” his deep voice rolls in your noise-cancelling headset, “sorry, hope that wasn’t me.” 

“No, I wasn’t paying attention,” you hum and sigh.  

“Ah,” he accepts and lets silence linger before he clicks his tongue, “what’s going on? Everything alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you put the controller down, your avatar sitting on the geometric bed, “I just...” you stretch your neck and massage your scalp around the thick band of the headset, “got a lot on my mind.” 

“Right. I thought you were all done exams,” he says. 

“I am, but... packing. Going home. I called my old boss and turns out I’m not gonna have a job this summer. Gotta start over,” you yawn and rub your eyes, “what about you? Final exam tomorrow?” 

“Uh... yeah,” he hesitates as if he forgot. You do wonder why he isn’t cramming right now. You could never play minecraft all night the day before a final. “Easy stuff. I’m not worried.” 

You scoff. You wish you could say the same. All you’ve done is worry those last two weeks. Exams, getting home, getting a job. Your grandmother won’t very happy to find out you’ll be slumming it for a while. At least you tucked away some money through the semester. 

“Hey, if you need a few bucks...” Jacob offers. 

“What? Are you crazy? No way,” you exclaim, “really, no, I couldn’t. I’ll be fine. I just... I hate looking for jobs. You know how it is. Friggin awkward.” 

“It’s not a big deal. My dad sent me my birthday money so...” 

“Uh uh,” you deny him again, “that’s way too much. I couldn’t-- we haven’t even met.” 

“Mm, yeah, about that,” he exhales into his microphone, “I, uh, got an extra ticket to this Con. I figured out that’s it like the midway point between us so...” 

“A con? Oh, wow--” 

“Yeah, but I get that it would be expensive so maybe I could pay for your trip?” 

“Jacob,” you wiggle the controller restlessly, “I can't accept that. It’s so nice but... it’s a lot.” 

“I wouldn’t offer it was too much,” his voice is soft, meek, and defeated. You feel bad but you would feel worse taking advantage of his kindness. “We’ve been talking all year. I just figured it would be a good chance to meet up. It would be in public and something we both like so...” 

You scratch your neck as it speckles with heat. You don’t know what’s more insulting; yes or no. 

“Can I think about it?” You ask thinly. 

The line is quiet. You look at the screen and it goes dim from your idling. You hit the analog stick and fix your headphones. 

“Jacob?” You murmur. 

“Sure, think about it,” he says, his voice raspy and rocky. It’s strange. You’ve seen him in pictures and his voice doesn’t really match his appearance. He sounds a lot older than he looks. “It’s next month so lots of time.” 

“I’m sorry,” you cringe. “I just wouldn’t want to waste your money.” 

“Trust me, it wouldn’t be a waste,” he insists, “this last year has sucked. So much. You got me through it all.” His microphone scuffs, “studying, exams, all that stuff. It’s tough making new friends. Seems like everyone here knows each other from high school.” 

“Yeah, totally,” you agree.  

You’re not exactly the most popular person. You have people you know in each class but not too many friends you hang out with outside the lecture hall or library. So far, not too many people want to spend hours mining digital gold or racing cartoon characters around a rainbow track. 

“Well, you should probably get some sleep,” you yawn, “you got your big exam and... I gotta keep packing. Gotta catch the greyhound tomorrow night.” 

“Sure, uh, yeah, right,” his disappointment is potent, “hey, will you text me when you get home? Just so I know you made it.” He snorts, “god, I sound like my dad right now.” 

“Oh, of course,” you chirp back, “I’ll try to remember. Might be late.” 

“That’s fine. Just as long as you let me know.” 

“Don’t worry about me,” you assure him, “not ‘til I have to face my grandma. Ha.” 

“Yeah, good luck with that,” he says, “well... er...” 

“Good night,” you finish for him, “let me know how the exam goes too.” 

“Will do,” his timbre gets even lower, “night.” 

You sign off and shut down the console. Another yawn flows through you and waters in your eyes. You should sleep, you got a long day waiting for you, but you know it won’t be easy. Not with so much on your mind, not least of all, Jacob’s invitation. 

🎮

You text Jacob as you get on the bus, to make sure he doesn’t worry. It’s so sweet that he does, even some of your girlfriends don’t bother that much. Not that you mind the ‘hey, bitch’ Janet sends you every now and again to make sure you’re still alive. 

You fall asleep on the bus. You’ve never been one to sleep while travelling but you’re exhausted from a night of anxious tossing and turning. After spending all day packing up the last of your things and scouring your dorm room, you’re beat to hell. 

It’s midnight as you get to your grandmother’s house. She’s up reading another Stephen King classic in her rocking chair. She’s always been a night owl and a voracious book hound. She grumbles at you but doesn’t bother to ask how your trip was. 

“Hey, grandma,” you hike up your bag and smile.  

She growls again, eyes not leaving the page. You should know better by now not to interrupt her. You shoulder on and head down to the spare room where you spent most of your high-school career. You shut the door gently as the old hardwood floors creak with your weight and you drop your bag on the squeaky bed. 

You fish out your phone and plug it in as the battery flashes red with only two percent left. You leave it on the night table and stretch out, not bothering to change out of your hoodie and jeans. It’s not long before you descend back into the same dreams that marked your journey home. 

You wake up to buzzing. Your phone shakes the nightstand, rattling it against the bed frame. You groan and roll onto your side, reaching blindly for offending object. You hit the side button to dismiss the call.  

You blink away the bleariness and focus on the screen. Along with the missed call are several text messages. You squint as you expand the notifications. Jacob! You forgot to message. 

‘Hey, you home?’ 

‘Checking in. Must be busy getting settled in. Just let me know when you’re safe.’ 

‘Not meaning to be weird but everything okay?’ 

‘Please answer me. I’m worried.’ 

You drag your thumb around the keyboard, letting it predict your words; ‘sorry! I was so tired. Home now and safe 😊' 

Three dots pop up then swoop away. You frown as the same thing happens several times before a response appears. 

‘Was really worried. Thanks for finally answering. Been up all night.’ 

You’re stunned by the terse response. Yeah, you forgot to answer but he doesn’t need to worry that much. You frown and shift onto your side. 

‘Srry again. Tired. Talk in morning. Night.’ 

You turn your phone on silent and plug it back into the cord. You do feel bad but you’re too exhausted to let it keep you up. Besides, you need your sleep. You have lots of job hunting to do in the morning. Not to mention, your grandmother to face. 

🎮

You let Jacob cool down after your return home. Rather, he doesn’t text and you’re too distracted to do the same. As much as you’d like to sit around and game, your grandmother was as disappointed as you expected with your employment status, even when you gave her the money you had left in your emergency fund. 

After a week, you finally get a bite. It’s nothing special. There’s a seasonal ice cream shop in a booth shaped like a vanilla cone that needs a cashier on weeknights. It’s less than full time hours but it’s better than nothing. It will be strange working with high school juniors but you can’t afford to be picky. 

‘Game tonight?’ The text interrupts your first shift. You don’t have a chance to answer as a family approaches the window to order. 

You get them the soft serve and take their payment, bidding them a good evening with their vanilla points already drooping in the summer heat. You glance around at the mostly empty picnic tables. Soccer practice will end soon and you’ll be overloaded with eight-year-olds. 

‘Srry. New job. 1st shift. Maybe tmrw.’ 

‘New job? Congrats. Why didn’t you tell me?’ 

You sigh.  

‘Time got ahead of me.’ 

‘Same. Catch up tomorrow then. Minecraft?’ 

‘Sure. Tmrw.’ 

You slip your phone away. A mother and daughter approach and ask for a sundae and a banana split. As much as you love ice cream, working with it hasn’t tested your cravings very much. In fact, you might be falling out of love with it. The smell of vanilla and overly sweetened strawberries is kind of gross when it’s all you breathe. 

As you watch the happy customers walk away, you smile. Maybe it will be good to get some mining done. It will take your mind off of everything else. Hell, it might even make you feel like you’re doing something useful. 

🎮

“Shit, oh, sorry,” Jacob corrects himself. You always think it's kind of funny how he doesn’t like to swear. “My diamond armor.” 

“Oh no,” you utter, “where are you? I’ll grab your stuff.” 

He gives his coordinates and you turn around, leaping over the green blocks to make your way there. Despite your reticence at the beginning, you’re feeling better about the session. He wasn’t as tense as he seemed in his texts. 

“So, uh, did you think about the con?” Jacob asks. 

“The con? I almost forgot. When is it?” 

He gives the dates and you hum. Your chest flutters at the thought still. You’re not stupid. Meeting people IRL is not like online, no matter how many hours you’ve mined together. As much as you enjoy chatting with Jacob, you don’t know about meeting up. 

“I get it if you can’t get the time off but my offer still stands to cover the trip. If you wanna stay the night, I’ll even get an airBnB.” 

“Oh, wow, that’s a lot. I’m working now. I could put in,” you offer.  

“Is that a yes?” He asks hopefully. 

“I don’t know... I mean, I’ll have to look into it,” you say evasively. “Talk to my boss and grandma and all that.” 

“Right, right,” he tries to sound unbothered, “makes sense. Of course, no pressure. How about I send you the ticket either way? Haven’t got anyone else to bite.” 

“Oh, well, hold off, I wouldn’t want to take it and not use it,” you collect his weapons and armor from the ground in the game. 

It’s silent as you focus on getting every little thing. 

“Sorry, did I freak you out?” He asks, “I’m really not trying to pressure you, just got excited thinking about it.” 

“I know, Jacob, it’s not that, it’s just... a lot.” 

“Totally get it,” he intones, “let me know whenever you got an answer. Uh, where are you? I’m tryna find you.” 

“Just stay there, I'll come back to the house,” you assure him, happy to focus on the game instead. 

Still, you can’t entirely lose yourself in it. You’re sure he’s a nice guy. From pictures, he’s less than scary, and he’s never been anything but friendly. It’s not like the other dudes you meet online who jump to asking about your bra size and all that. It just isn’t smart. 

Well, maybe if you don’t show up alone. You know what con he’s talking about and Kara from Econ lives near there. You could probably convince her to meet up. Hm, that might work. 

Just like you told him, you’ll have to think about it. 

[pombeom]

Hello pombeom hope ur having a good day/night !!! Idk if ur requests are open i forgot to check BUT if its alr... may i request a domtutor!taehyun x bratsub!reader ? 🙊

Having an intense terry brainrot its so crazy RGHHH so scenario is, reader is really behind her like classes and almost failing everything and the teacher said she needs to catch up and take a tutor blh blah blah.. so, the teacher assigned tyun to be his tutor. Then, Everytime they have a study session, reader wont take it srs so tyun snapped out of it and just fucked the shit out of her 🫨

Feel free to ignore this if u get uncomfortable with this request !! Sorry if its not the best description, but the rest is up to you !! 🤧

Also, do you have a taglist? If yes, i would love to be tagged in every txt fics, thoughts OR ANYTHING ABT TXT😶‍🌫️

tutoring trouble | taehyun fic (nsfw)

nsfw, mdni!

pairings: meandomtutor!taehyun x brattysub!reader

warnings: spanking, namecalling (slut, brat), dirty talk, blowjob, doggy, manhandling, creampie, unprotected sex, hair pulling, choking, mean mean taehyun, nippleplay, marking, hickeys, zero aftercare, dacryphilia (reader cries), lmk if i forgot anything

a/n: thank you so much for being my first request!! this was so much fun to write and i hope this cures your brain rot 😭 don’t have a taglist atm but when i do (hopefully soon 🤞(just need to figure out how it works)) i’ll definitely add you :)

requests open

“Can I have a word please?”

At the end of the seminar, your professor calls upon you as you and your friends begin to leave. 

“I’ll catch up with you guys later.” 

“Right. I just wanted to talk to you about your recent grades. For someone who used to perform well in every assignment, your performance has been slipping to well below average. Even on a test where everyone managed to score above 60% you were the only one with a mark of 48% which tells me that you might need some additional support. A senior student has volunteered to help you out so from now on you shall receive tutoring session from him every week. His name is Kang Taehyun and he’s a very capable student who I believe can give you all the support you need,” your professor waffled on as you simply stare into her face absorbing all the information she’s blurting at you. 

“Is that all?” 

“Yes that’s all. I’ve scheduled your first meeting for tomorrow afternoon. I checked both your timetables to make sure you were both available. You’ll be meeting in the library at 1pm. And remember, if I hear that you haven’t showed up, then I’ll have to deal out more severe consequences.” 

With even more information being darted in your direction, your mind wanders to the plans you made with your friends for lunch tomorrow. Guess that’ll have to be cancelled then. 

You let out a sigh of frustration as you thank your professor and walk out the room with a grimacing look. How dare she ruin your plans like that. Just imagining the thought of a tutor sounded like hell. This Kang Taehyun also seemed like a right old nerd. It’ll be surprising if he lasts more than a day with you. 

You were wrong. He lasted more than a day. In fact he lasted nearly 3 weeks of your bratty attitude which just refused to listen to anything he says, interrupting him mid-sentence to ask irritating questions or dozing off as he’s explaining a key concept. Even through the trials and tribulations, he still put up with you but you could tell that he each week he was getting closer to breaking point. He just needed one last push. 

Instead of the library, you asked if you could meet up at your house instead, using the fact that you were recovering from being sick last week as an excuse. Phase 1, complete. 

Taehyun arrives promptly at 1pm, tapping a rhythmic knock on your door. As if you were waiting for him, you opened the door within seconds revealing to you his casual outfit of a baggy t-shirt that he paired with dark wash straight leg jeans and a silver chain that hung comfortably around his neck. You may not have liked him much, but you appreciated his sense of style. Laid back but put together. 

Inviting him in, you direct him towards your room, telling him that that was where you worked best. You bought over an extra chair and placed it beside your own desk chair and you both pulled out your work materials. 

Without further ado, Taehyun begins the session, paying no attention to the change of setting that you hoped would throw him off. You were ready to move into phase 2 of your plan. 

Taehyun, being seated at your right proved to be advantageous as it allowed you the opportunity to make physical contact as you both move your hands at the same time, “accidentally” bumping your hand into his. 

You were also wearing your oversized pyjama shirt with a pair of black shorts underneath, your shirt unbuttoned quite low. Without drawing too much attention to yourself, you slowly push one side of the shirt down your shoulder, hinting at your black lace bra. You try and meet his gaze but his eyes were avoidant, only paying attention to his notes and whether or not you were writing them down too, which of course you weren’t.

“Can you please focus. We’ve got a lot to cover,” his eyes finally look up to meet yours giving you a stern glare. 

“I am focusing, aren’t I?” Your puppy eyes never worked on him but you were hoping that them playing with your bra strap might distract him. 

“Stop fiddling with your bra strap and pay attention,” his voice was commanding in a way that even you felt threatened into obedience. You also weren’t expecting him to be so direct. 

You pick up you pen and start copying down the notes as he explains them suddenly getting another idea. 

“Taehyun, I’m thirsty. I’m gonna get some water, do you want some too?” 

“Yeah, sure, get me a glass.”

You filled up two glasses of water in the kitchen, holding one in each hand and as you walk past him, you accidentally spill water on his shirt, leaving him soaking wet. 

“Fuck! What the hell?!” he yells, standing up in shock. 

“Oh no! I’m so sorry! It was an accident. Let me get you a towel.” 

You giggled as you walk away towards the storage cabinet grabbing a new towel. But when you return, you see a sight you weren’t prepared for. 

Taehyun had removed his shirt leaving him flashing his hard abs and built muscles. Instead of turning around or covering your eyes, you stand there gawking at his physique. So this is what he’d been hiding under his baggy T-shirt the entire time. You move closer to him, handing him the towel to dry off. 

He wipes his body dry and passes you the towel back glaring into your eyes. 

“This is what you wanted to happen right? When you invited me to your house, I knew something was up. Fucking brat can’t just sit quiet and focus on her lesson.” He inches closer to your body, pushing you against the desk as he corners you. His face was now mere millimetres away, leaving you gasping. 

“Go on. Tell me what you want,” he instructs, his voice a little raspy, “What? Now you suddenly can’t speak? Guess I’ll just have to punish you then.” 

His hands grab onto your waist pushing you up to sit on your desk, moving away any pens and paper in the way. His fingers tuck your hair behind your ear as he continues to move them along your cheeks and jawline leaving lingering touches on your skin, sparking like jolts of electricity. As his hands reach your neck, his fingers wrap themselves around it, his grip slowly tightening. 

Your lips part as you pant for air when his other hand swipes a touch across your bottom lip before he inserts his thumb into your mouth, pushing it in and out. He removes his finger from your mouth letting out a pop sound. 

Before long, his hands move down your shirt, undoing any remaining buttons, stripping you of your shorts as you’re left almost naked, feeling bare in front of his gaze. 

He’s skilful in removing your bra, cupping both breasts as he squeezes them into his face, breathing in your scent. 

“Such perfect tits. You were desperate to show them to me, weren’t you?” 

“Taehyun, suck on them. Please,” your voice trembled as you begged him. 

“Such a desperate slut aren’t you. Unlucky for you, brats don’t get what they want.” 

He’s strips you of your underwear and his own, leaving you both naked when suddenly he picks you up, flinging you over his shoulder, spanking your ass as he moves towards your bed. 

“Such,” spank,” A,” spank,” Brat,” spank. 

He drops you onto the mattress, and climbs over you. He moves up to your neck, sucking your sensitive skin rabidly, reddish purple marks appearing instantly. He moves along you collarbone sucking harshly while pinching your nipples, earning him a sharp moan. 

“Get on your knees.” He pulls you up by your hair and pushes you onto the floor as you become on eye level with his veiny cock. Your reactions to his hardness were instinctive: hands wrapping around the base of his shaft as your tongue swirls around the pink tip. 

“You don’t get to tease me ok, brat? Now suck my dick.” 

You feel your hair being pulled into a makeshift ponytail as he rams your throat up and down his cock, almost gagging you. 

You feel him twitch on your mouth and before he could cum he pulls out, taking away his own orgasm. 

Pulling you back up onto the bed, he places you on all fours as he grabs your waist firmly as his cock teases your entrance. Sliding in between the lips of your pussy, your wetness leaks out onto his dick, lubing it even more than your saliva. 

“Taehyun please just fuck me!” you whine, almost crying at the pain of his teasing. You needed him in you. 

Without warning he slams his cock into your core, hitting your cervix in one go. He continues to pound into you as he pushes your face into a pillow, muffling your moans as your tears leak onto the cotton. His dick is ruts against your gummy walls as he grunts with each swift push. You clench around his cock, feeling the veins as your wetness oozes out, dripping down your leg. 

“God your pussy is so good. Look at you, taking my cock so well, aren’t you? Only brats get fucked like this. Brats who don’t listen or pay attention. Brats who are so desperate. Brats who like to tease their tutor.” 

He’s now slamming into you at an unimaginable rate, your cries being heard even through the fabric of your pillow. The familiar sensation builds in your stomach. 

“Taehyun I’m gonna cum!” 

“Hold it. Only cum when I tell you to.” 

He’s ruthless with his speed, punishing your pussy over and over. His actions took over your entire body as your vision goes blurry even with your eyes closed and your legs shaking despite his support in holding you up.

“You can cum now.” 

You didn’t wait a second longer before your orgasmic wave comes crashing down sending ripples across your entire body when you collapse completely. At the same time, Taehyun cums inside your throbbing pussy, which remains pulsing even after he’s removed himself, pushing out the mixture of both your cum down your already wet leg. 

You’re left gasping for air once again, trying to catch tour breath after the intense sex. Taehyun leaves you alone on your bed to go put on his boxers and jeans, sweat dripping down his sculpted abs. 

“Oi, where’s my tshirt?” 

“It’s there.” You point vaguely behind you as you were unable to lift your head or body to help him out. 

He eventually finds it on the the radiator and at this point it had finished drying so he slips it back on and begins packing up his notes and stationery. 

“Same time next week. And maybe next time you’ll actually pay attention.” 

He waltz out, hearing the main door slam whilst you still lay in bed worn out. 

You don’t think you could ever focus in his tutoring classes again. Not when you knew how his cock felt inside you. His punishment failed. It only made you crave more. 

[littlespacereader]

Nb reader had beginning to have accidents so Steve Rogers comeforts them and helped them clean up

Such an adorable concept! I haven’t written for Steve Rogers in such a long time so when I first tackled this I had a bit of writers block. Thankfully I reworked it a bit and I think it came out so cute!! I really hope you enjoy this! Thank you for the request!

Summer in Brooklyn☀️🍼

Caregiver! Steve Rogers & GN! Little Reader (SFW!)

Tags - Summertime fun, bathing suits & sprinklers, Bucky & Sam mentioned, accident, pull-ups, forehead kisses, cuddles and hugs

It’s a warm summer day in Brooklyn! Finally the weather matched the season and everyone on the block was outside having fun!

The same could be said for Steve and Y/N who played together in their small backyard. Steve sat on a lawn chair watching Y/N run up and down through the sprinkler Bucky had brought a day prior.

It has become an afternoon routine of Steve and Y/N’s to get changed into their bathing suits and play a little game of tag around the backyard while the sprinkler sprayed them.

Today was an especially hot day in their small backyard. To make sure his little one didn’t get a heat stroke, Steve made sure they had plenty of juice and some ice pops here and there to counteract the crazy temperatures.

As the day went on, he could see his little one start to get more and more tired. There was nothing like a nap after playing in the water all day.

“Alright Y/N, let’s head in.” Steve stood up.

“Nooooooooowwwwaaaa.” Y/N whined behind him as he turned off the hose to the sprinkler. They were currently sitting in a puddle, playing with their zoo animal figures, splashing then into the puddle below.

“We’ll play tomorrow I promise. It’s just getting late and I need to get started on some dinner.” Steve explained, without the added part of a nap. That would come later.

Y/N sighed but nodded their head as the stoop up and walked over to Steve. But there was just one problem…there were no towels outside.

“Huh? Guess Papa forgot the towels upstairs.” Steve said more to himself than Y/N.

Y/N was holding their arms close. Being out of the sun and soaking wet was making them start to shiver. “Cold Papa.” They said softly,

“Here,” Steve took his shirt off and placed it over their head. Because of his tall stature the shirt was almost like a dress on Y/N. “There you go.” Steve smiled, “That will keep you warm till I grab the towel.”

While it wasn’t the warmest, Y/N wrapped their arms around the shirt and smiled. They always loved when they got a piece of clothing from their Cg. “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome sweetheart. Now let’s go inside and get some towels.” Hand in hand, Steve and Y/N stepped back into the house.

Steve wasn’t wet at all. After sitting in the sun he had dried out. Y/N on the other hand was still wet head to toe. Steve had Y/N stand on a mar by the back door.

“Here sweetheart, you stay here so we’re not tracking so much water through the house and I’ll run upstairs and grab some towels okay?”

Y/N smiled and nod their head yes. Steve smiled back, placing a small kiss to their head before heading to the stairs.

~~~

Only issue is…Y/N was still cold. They held their new shirt close to them and crossed their arms infront. Papa said he wasn’t going to be long, just grabbing towels.

But with the cold making them shiver slightly, another issue came to the surface…they needed to use the potty.

The bathroom on the first floor was on the opposite side of the house. Papa said to stay on the mat so they wouldn’t track water through the house but…how much longer was he going to be? They didn’t want to track water but they had to go potty badly.

Maybe Papa would be back soon, maybe they could hold it, they reasoned with themselves. But as the seconds ticked away. They could feel their grip slipping.

But just then they heard Papa coming down the stairs!

~~~

Steve walked down the stairs, clothes and towels in hand, “I’m sorry I took so long bug. I figured I get all of your supplies and clothes from upstairs so you wouldn’t have to-.”

Steve trailed off as his eyes met with Y/N’s form. Small trickle down their leg and a puddle beneath gave away their accident. They looked up at him with tears in their eyes. “Y-You said, no move.” They explained with a little sniffle and a tear falling from their eye.

This is the second time his little one has had an accident. The first was during a thunderstorm last week. One loud crash had Y/N running to Steve in wet pajamas.

At first Steve and even Y/N, thought it was a one off thing…until today. But Steve had already had a conversation with Y/N about this the first time it happened. Accidents were okay, and didn’t define them and their regression. He was more than willing to help his little one.

“Oh Y/N,” He walked over and brought them close, pulling them into a hug. “I am so sorry. This accident is my fault. I should’ve checked in with you earlier to see if you needed to go potty.”

Once they broke apart Steve picked his little one up, though they protested. “No! Icky!”

“It’s okay, Papa needs to get changed too. I don’t mind. Right now let’s worry about getting you changed.” Steve reassured. Y/N looked as though they were going to say something but settled for hiding their head in his shoulder.

Steve carried them into the bathroom, closing the door behind them and settle his little one down on the toilet cover.

As he organized everything a small sniffle came from the opposite end of the bathroom, “Papa i sworry.” Y/N said, tears falling from their eyes.

Steve immediately stopped what he was doing and went over to his little one. He places a soft hand on their shoulder, “Y/N what happened is nothing you need to apologize for. What did I tell you when you had your first accident last week?”

“Accidents are ‘kay.”

“That’s right. You know accidents are okay. This one is on me. I should’ve kept a better eye on your juice intake.” Steve sighed to himself. “But having an accident doesn’t mean anything bad. Sometimes our bodies just don’t realize what we need to do in time and that’s okay. Everyone’s body works differently.” He began to explain getting a small nod from Y/N.

“We’re going to clean you up, and get you into some comfy pajamas for the night. Then you can help Papa cook dinner. How does that sound?”

Y/N nodded, a small smile returning to their face. “Accident okay?” They asked one last time.

“Yes sweetheart, accidents are okay.” Steve smiled back. “Now, let’s get this little rascal dried off before you catch a cold.” That got Steve a small giggle from Y/N.

First he helped wash and dry his little one off. But before he went a step further he paused and turned to them for guidance. “Now I know this was just an accident, but do you want to wear some protection? It’s your choice bug. I won’t be mad if you say no.”

Steve watched as his little one stopped and thought long and hard about it. But after a moment they pointed to the pull-up then they put their thumb in their mouth.

“Good choice sweetheart.” Steve smiled. After that it was just getting them changed into a fresh pull-up and warm pajamas.

Once done, Steve also changed out of his wet clothes and into more comfier clothes for the evening. “There we are,” he said as he lifted Y/N into his arms. “All nice and dry.”

By now Y/N was loosing the battle to stay awake, the long but fun filled day catching up with them. Steve walked back into the living room, grabbing their pacifier off the end table and replacing their thumb with it. “There we go, much better.”

Y/N nodded snuggling closer to Steve. Steve knew that there was no way Y/N was going to let him put them down for a nap. But he did know they would fall asleep in his arms. The solution? Send a quick text to Sam and ask if he can pop over and help out dinner.

With the text sent, Steve walked over to the couch and plopped down onto it, Y/N still half asleep in his arms. He rubbed their back up and down as their head rested soundly in his shoulder.

Before they really drifted off he managed to hear them say, “Papa best.”

Steve chuckled, moving to place a small kiss to the top of their head, “I’m only the best because I have the best little in the whole wide world.”

Accidents will happen, floors and clothes can be cleaned, but what will stay forever is the trust and love between Steve and Y/N.

[jackhues]

(mockingbird au!) better things - platonic!hughes

request: quinn's gf treating the reader shitty

requested by: anon : )

notes: hehe, this took very long bcz i've had writers block for so long, but i hope you enjoy! continue sending in requests for the au! check out the request rules below! thanks for requesting <3

likes are good, reblogs are better <3

mockingbird! au request rules!

tags: @woodruff-edwards , @austinbutlerscaresme , @zegras2crosby , @hockeyboysarehot , @emptyflowerpots , @mysticaldonkey , @lam-ila , @babydollmarauders , @starjoyyy , @kjohnson-91 , @gavinbrindley @huggyhugh , @jackhughesily , @panarin10 , @equallyshaw , @power2myheart , @lynnismypseudonym , @beccaiscold , @akengii , @nowandkei , @cinnamonpancakes , @mitchymainer , @lifeofpriya , @marshmallow-babe, @hughesx3 , @emsully2002 , @starsandhughes , @huggy-hischier73, @doglady5678 , @thatoneblog , @exonct07 &lt;3

join my taglist!

gif not mine!

the first time you met marianne, you tried to tell yourself she had a bad day. 

after all, it happens to everyone. you’ve had many yourself. days when you don’t want to talk to anyone, where you especially don’t have the energy to talk to someone new.

it was a universal experience.

there’d been a knock on your door that afternoon, followed by jack yelling, “i’ll get it!” you were washing the dishes, so it wasn’t like you were going to go get it anyways.

once you put the dishes away and dried your hands, you made your way to the door, trying to figure out what was taking jack so long. he was a bit of a chatterbox, and on more than one occasion, you had to pull him away from a scared looking deliveryman.

“jack, who’s here?” you asked.

“damn, y/n,” quinn clicked his teeth as he shook his head to himself. “and here i thought you’d recognize me before my own brother would.”

“quinn!” you laughed a little, hugging him. “oh my god, i completely forgot you’re in town! the game’s tomorrow, right?”

“yup,” he agreed.

“great, remind me to prepare myself for hearing ‘jack hughes’ brother’ on the broadcast all night,” you muttered to yourself.

jack laughed, while quinn merely rolled his eyes. 

“this is why you should watch the vancouver broadcasts,” he rapped his knuckles against your head.

you swatted his hand away as someone cleared their throat.

it was only then you noticed a pretty redhead standing behind quinn and looking a little… bored? it was hard to tell, she didn’t look very expressive.

“y/n, meet marianne!” quinn said, putting an arm around the girl. “anne, this is jack’s girlfriend, y/n.”

“hi, it’s nice to meet you!” you grinned, unsure if you should step up for a hug or handshake.

anne nodded in your direction, still looking vaguely bored by everything around her. you decided on neither form of greeting.

jack and quinn were deep in conversation, sending luke snaps and telling him to hurry and make his way over to your’s and jack’s apartment. the three boys would be staying at your place over the weekend.

the rest of the quinn and anne’s visit went by alright, as long as you didn’t count the fact that you and anne never spoke to each other, despite living in the same house for two days.

you stayed at home to watch the devils and canucks play each other, even inviting anne as a gesture of goodwill.

“um, no thanks,” was her simple response. “i’m meeting up with a few of my friends to go clubbing.”

you merely nodded to yourself, doing your absolute best to try and pretend her tone wasn’t rude, and that she was just tired.

a bad day can be a bad few days, right?

-

the second time you met her, things hadn’t gone any smoother.

this time, you and jack were visiting quinn in vancouver, staying over at his house for the visit. you weren’t even supposed to be there, but jack had convinced you to go along and surprise quinn.

luke had arrived at quinn’s apartment a few hours prior, leaving you and jack to go on an impromptu date around the city. 

you knocked on the door, stepping back and squeezing jack’s hand. you couldn’t wait to see the shocked expression on quinn’s face when he saw you guys together.

except, he didn’t open the door.

anne stood inside quinn’s apartment, narrowing her eyes at the sight of you. her gaze travelled towards jack, who she recognized immediately. 

“hey, jack, right?” she asked.

jack smiled, “the one and only. is my brother here?”

she nodded, giving you a onceover, before stepping back and allowing you guys inside the apartment.

“quinn! your other brother’s here!” she called, before heading towards one of the rooms.

you and jack shared a glance, before entering the apartment. you’d spent some time here occasionally, usually when jack was visiting vancouver on a road trip, but you didn’t remember the exact layout of this apartment.

quinn, who must’ve been eating lunch, shouted something in response, before making his way over.

“hey - oh my god, y/n!” he moved jack out of the way to give you a hug.

you laughed loudly, sticking your tongue out at jack who had crossed his arms and was pouting slightly.

“told you he loves me more,” you grinned.

this time around, you went to the stadium to watch the devils and canucks game, along with ellen and jim. anne joined you guys, but she didn’t seem very interested.

you wore a red devils jersey, sporting ‘hughes’ and the number 86 proudly on your back. hockey wasn’t a huge part of your life growing up, but after meeting jack, the sport grew on you. it was hard to date a hockey player and not be a hockey fan.

you watched the game intensely, cheering whenever one of the three hughes had the puck - but you were loudest when it was jack. nico scored near the end of the first period, leading to you and jim cheering and celebrating with one of your handshakes.

while ellen loved all three of her kids, her oldest had a special place in her heart. she couldn’t just cheer against his team.

“devils are winning this, ma,” you told her, laughing during the first intermission. jim had left you guys, with the promise of coming back after grabbing some food.  “i’m telling you, we’re getting a jack goal, maybe two, and then… i’m not sure, i feel like dawson’s gonna score one.”

ellen rolled her eyes, “keep dreaming honey. but anne and i know that quinn’s gonna win this one.”

you turned to anne, momentarily forgetting she was there. 

“what do you think, anne?” you asked, trying to appease your guilt-ridden conscience at forgetting her existence. “what’s the score gonna be?”

anne looked up from her phone, bored, “does it matter? it’s just a dumb game. i don’t even understand why you’re so interested. like honestly, i have better stuff to do. everyone should have better stuff to do.”

you blinked, slightly taken aback.

“excuse me?” ellen said to her, also put off by her words and tone.

“what?” anne looked up. “did i say something wrong?”

“you don’t have to be here, you know,” ellen told her. “in fact, if you’re not interested in the game, if you’re going to talk to my daughter like that, and if you ‘have better things to do’, go ahead and leave. no one’s stopping you.”

anne stared at ellen, at a loss for words.

“ma, it’s okay, really,” you said, trying to deescalate the situation. there were lots of people around, and you just didn’t want anyone to accidentally catch wind of the conversation. “let’s not do this right now. i’m sure we’re all just misunderstanding what’s going on.”

ellen huffed, crossing her arms and looking back at the ice. on the other side of you, anne did the same.

“okay, so i’ve got candy, hot dogs, and some pop. someone please take them from me before i drop them,” jim froze at the sight of the three of you, obviously catching the tension.

at your warning glance, he wisely remained silent.

the rest of the game was tense, but jack had scored two goals - he liked scoring against quinn - and the devils secured a win over the canucks. quinn had come away with two assists, but it just wasn’t enough in the end.

the tension remained, even after the game, but no one brought it up. not until months later, when you sat around the fire at the lake house.

-

“okay, but that move i pulled on you was still better than your goal,” quinn was saying to jack.

“no, no, no,” jack argued. “the goal was so much better.”

you, ellen, jim, and luke watched the two older boys argue, laughing amongst yourselves.

“hey, after the game, why were you all so tense and awkward?” luke turned to you suddenly.

jim shrugged, “i was just following what the rest of them were doing.”

ellen’s smile had turned sour, but you understood. you didn’t like thinking about that day very much either.

you waved it off, “you remember quinn’s girlfriend, anne?”

“oh, the redhead?”

“yup,” you nodded. “anyways, she was just being a little rude-”

“y/n, don’t sugarcoat her actions,” ellen shook her head. “y/n and i were having a conversation about the game while jim went to go get us some food. y/n tried to be nice and include anne in the conversation, but anne was rude and i didn’t like it, so i told her off. when someone’s being nice to you, you can’t just say stuff like that. i didn’t like her.”

luke laughed, “me neither, honestly. i don’t know why… something about her attitude just rubbed me wrong.”

“okay, okay, enough,” ellen said. “i don’t want to talk about her anymore.” she yawned, “on second thought, i don’t want to talk at all anymore. g’night guys.”

jim sighed, collecting the smore’s sticks and following his wife inside. you and luke watched jack and quinn argue, laughing whenever the other made a comment that didn’t make sense.

you were so tired, you didn’t even realize when you fell asleep.

-

jack smiled down at you, using his your hoodie as a blanket to cover yourself as you slept.

“i don’t care if you guys have been together for years,” luke muttered as he walked by, “staring like that is still weird.”

“wait until you get a girlfriend,” jack muttered, rolling his eyes at his younger brother.

he leaned down, lifting you up off the chair and into his arms bridal style. your eyes fluttered, but at the sound of jack’s soft voice, you nestled comfortably in his arms and fell back asleep.

luke and quinn waved at him as he carried you down the hall and to bed.

“i keep forgetting to ask,” luke turned to his oldest brother suddenly. “what happened to anne? why’d you guys break up?”

quinn shrugged to himself, “after the last devils and canucks game, she said she didn’t like y/n very much, and she didn’t like how mom talked to her or something. and obviously, mom’s not going to be rude unless she was rude first. i told her that, she got mad and said i can’t talk to y/n anymore. i said we can’t be together if she doesn’t like y/n or mom because those are two of the most important females in my life. if she doesn’t like my mom or my sister, how’re we supposed to go on?”

“so you broke it off?” luke asked.

“so i broke it off,” quinn agreed.

luke nodded, as if the explanation made sense.

you were a part of the boys’ lives, a huge part. there was no way they would compromise when it came to you. there was no better thing than the relationship they had with you.

[amailboxlemur]

Three years ago today I watched Young Royals for the first time.

Story time/long post incoming. I wasn’t in a great headspace at the time, but let me try to set the scene.

Spring of 2021 was still pretty deep in the pandemic. My province had been on lockdown (number 3) since the beginning of April and I hated working from home. Partly because teaching online piano lessons sucks. But also I live alone, and lockdown is too much alone time no matter how introverted you are. I think that spring I went about 6 weeks without speaking to someone in person who wasn’t like a grocery store cashier.

I decided to go stay with my parents for a few weeks so I could get some human interaction. At the time, I was mooching off my former roommate’s Netflix that was still signed in to our living room TV, so I didn’t have Netflix access.

I also love Red White and Royal Blue, and all of a sudden in early July the fandom got flooded. There were gifs of two unfamiliar teenage boys all over my dash. Fanart of two boys who looked like Alex and Henry captioned “Wilhelm and Simon”. There were a bunch of crossover fics popping up on AO3. I was curious, but mostly I just wanted to get a feel for the characters so I could read said crossover fics.

July 12th was my first day back teaching in person. (Side note: the health precautions we had in place for those lessons were WILD). I came back from my parents place in the morning, taught in the late afternoon/evening and returned home around 8 pm. I made supper and figured I’d try watching an episode of this “Young Royals” thing. I started it and remember groaning when I realized it was in Swedish so I’d have to focus and read subtitles instead of watching mindlessly (I’m too pretentious to watch the dubbed version, but it had been a long day)

“Oh that’s a beautiful boy with a beautiful voice singing… I can keep going…”

“Ohhh they’re about to kiss… wait what? How does episode 1 just end there??? I have to watch another episode!”

“Yay they finally kissed!! But how will Wilhelm react?? It’s not even 11 yet, I think I can watch one more”

“Erik is dead. I knew this was coming because I saw the “beta read but Erik’s still dead” tag on AO3 but totally forgot! How will this affect my boys?? One more episode, just to see if wilhelm pushes Simon away again”

“Ok good, they’re together. August sucks though, I can see where this is going and why there seem to be so many comparisons to rwrb. But it’s past midnight so I’ll have to keep watching tomorrow… wait there’s only two more episodes?? Might as well finish”

Before I knew it, it was 2 am and I was crying on my living room couch. I NEVER get into new shows, I have tons of things I watched 1-3 episodes of and then quit, so I couldn’t believe I binged the entire thing. It was late so I went to sleep.

In the morning I woke up and the rabbit hole began. I read all the fics on AO3, I started following young royals stuff on tumblr. I googled the actor who played Simon and found out he’s an actual Swedish pop star? I think he was among the first artists I followed using my then brand new Spotify account. I followed both Omar and Edvin on instagram, along with Lisa (other actors followed later). I watched all the young royals promo videos on YouTube, including the Hillerska choir performance. That entire summer was spent diving down Omar’s back catalog of Foo vlogs. Some of them are in Swedish, but I remember watching them intensely, as if I would magically understand if I tried hard enough. I started learning Swedish on duolingo.

When season 2 was released, I fully quit all social media for WEEKS to avoid spoilers. I spent 3 days carefully messing up my sleep schedule so I could wake up and watch it at 3 am. When season 3 was released I was such an excited puppy dog that I didn’t sleep at all. I watched it at 3 am and spent the whole rest of the day amped up and on tumblr.

I remember all kinds of fun and significant days in the fandom: Rockbjörnen 2021, musikhjälpan 2021. The lead up and release of Mi Casa Su Casa. The release of OMR. Omar gave me a birthday present in 2022 when he performed “breathe” on Nyhetsmorgon on my birthday. Gay gala 2022 but especially 2023. Both boys have done incredible sommarpratar. So many other galas and performances and photoshoots I’d be here all day listing them all out.

Becoming an Omar fangirl was also surprising. I don’t listen to or follow pop music (my definition of which is incredibly broad so yes, Omar’s music qualifies). Like, I’ve never had a favourite artist before? One who’s work I actively follow and whose releases I know about in advance and look forward to?

Omar announced his concert at Cirkus in November of 2023 and it fell at the end of a semester break from work. I could go without needing to refund or makeup any missed lessons. It felt like a sign. That week was genuinely one of the best in my life, words can’t even describe it. A transatlantic flight, a week in Europe. I got to see Kaggeholm. I met Omar at Lyko. I stood in general admission 3 rows back from the stage and heard Omar sing live and sang along with other fans. It was surreal. Shout out to @yrblogbaby @the-words-we-sung @crownedwille and @omarsimp, wow you’re all amazing. There was a queer joy to hanging out with y’all that weekend that I don’t get too often irl.

Since then, I’ve tried to internalize a little bit more the idea of community in fandom. I’m still not super out there, but I try to interact more. I lurked in this fandom (and so many others) for years. I made this account in something like 2011 and until recently I probably had less than 50 posts.

So yeah… saying this show changed my life feels dramatic but also accurate. Hopefully here’s to more years to come, and more good memories when I head to New York this fall!

[rewatching-sam-and-dean]

SPN Poll: Most Forced Relationship (Romantic)

So, I was thinking about Supernatural, as one does, and I got to thinking about how the show describes a relationship or it’s intensity vs. how the characters actually act on screen. And the two don’t always line up. Also, the writers sometimes put characters together in a romantic (or romantic-adjacent) sense that seems like it’s been done out of a lack of other ideas for them or it just feels forced rather than natural (in my opinion, anyway).

Many of these relationships I don’t mind, but I figured I’d throw them in for variety. Also, some relationships I just don’t care about, so they don’t bother me as much as others.

Anyway, I’d love it if I could get a bigger sample size, so please do reblog (if you want). I’d love to see your reasons for you picks in the tags, or if there is more than one.

——

EDIT: Noo! I can’t believe I forgot to put Sam and Amelia on here! This poll is compromised! 😢 If I get much interaction, I’ll do a new poll tomorrow including Sam and Amelia, and removing the pairs that get the least votes. 🤦‍♀️

[made-ofmemories]

Fuck it Friday

Saying fuck it this Friday by posting what is without doubt the best part of what I am still calling 'Earthquake fic'. Moodboard and brief synopsis can be found here.

---

Chim lets out a low whistle when he follows Eddie into the kitchen which is fair. A tornado could have passed through and Eddie thinks it would look better than it does right now. There’s a stack of dishes from breakfast next to the sink that Buck won’t be able to get through even with as hard as he’s currently trying, the table is littered with the aftermath of last minute sandwich making and lunch packing. 

“Buck, can you go find Chris? It should not take 15 minutes to brush his teeth, you’re both going to be late.” Eddie says as he packs up the last of Chris’ lunch, a juice box and some fruit that will inevitably arrive home uneaten, but at least he tries to offer something more nutritional than a PB&J and pretzels. 

“Yeah.” Buck rinses off the dish he’s holding sets it aside, then pauses on his way out of the room to add. “Oh, I forgot to tell you there’s enough leftovers in the fridge for tonight but you’ll have to figure out something for tomorrow. I’ll grab groceries after my shift too.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure I can manage dinner for one night. Chris won’t mind takeout, we’ll save you some for breakfast.”

“I thought you said you could cook now?” Buck teases. “How did you survive before you met me? On sandwiches?”

“Mostly boxed mac ’n’ cheese and abuelas cooking, but yes.”

Buck shakes his head, giving him a dopey little grin before he leaves the room with a call of Chris’ name. Chim clears his throat Eddie forgot he was there and whips around to face him so quickly it makes his head spin in a way it hasn’t since the first day he got injured. 

“You two didn’t pull a Bobby and Athena and get married without inviting us did you?” 

“What?” He knows he’s messed up the moment the word comes out of his mouth sounding nowhere as casual as he was hoping for. 

“Oh come on, I’ve lived with Buck before and I can promise you it was not like-” There’s a vague and somewhat frantic gesture around the room, “This. You’re totally married.”

“Just because he helps out with Chris and occasionally picks up groceries does not mean we’re married.” He thinks about adding that Buck used to do all of those things before he moved in anyway, but decides that probably would not help the situation. 

“Whatever, man, but maybe ask yourself why he’s been so willing to sleep on your couch for the better part of two months instead of looking for a place of his own.” Eddie’s face must do something without his permission because Chim’s eyes narrow suspiciously. “He is sleeping on your couch, right?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says like the liar that he is. “Where else would he be sleeping?”

Chim drops it after one more suspicious glare. The tension is defused a moment later when Buck comes barrelling in to grab Chris lunch and exchange hurried goodbyes. 

---

Tagging: @ladydorian05 @nmcggg @your-catfish-friend @jesuiscenseedormir @exhuastedpigeon @the-amber-raven

[sumicats]

ALIENATED

[ TAGS ] toxic dynamic, unreliable narration, manipulation, trauma, abuse of power, DEAD DOVE ; DO NOT EAT !

✦❅✧───✧❅✦ CHAPTER 2 - SCHOOL SPIRIT

Li's POV

God this is so embarrassing. Everyone already has their own friend circles from previous years. But there was no way I was going to stay in that school after-

[bell noise]

I quickly collect all my supplies and shove it into my backpack, hurrying to my next class. I don’t remember school being this long…it’s only the third period. I take out my schedule, trying to figure out where my next class is. I barely make it to my history class, as soon as I step in the bell rang. Wow, I must look stupid. I find a seat and take out the supplies I need for the class. The teacher goes through the curriculum. So boring… I rest my head on my hand, trying not to fall asleep.

“...Oh! For your first assignment you will receive a project…” 

I sit up from my desk. What? On the first day? But who the hell am I going to work with?! I look around, other people also giving each other confused glances. 

“You will be making a timeline about one of the global history topics listed on this sheet. You will be working in groups of 3-4! I will give you the remaining time to find a group and discuss the topic you want to research. You must let me know your group topic by tomorrow!”

I look around as everyone goes to ask their friends to be in their group. I sigh. I bury my head in my arms on the table. Do I have to wait until the teacher asks if everyone has a group? Wow, that’s really embarrassing. Loser. I raise my head quickly as I feel someone tap my shoulder. I turn around confused.

“Hey! You alright?” the girl says. I furrow my eyebrows. There’s some guy behind her.

“Yeah…” I say. Well this is awkward. 

“That’s good! Do you have a group yet? I haven’t seen you around,” she asks. 

“Nope,” I pause to think about what to say next. “Is it okay if I join yours?” Hope that wasn’t too risky. What if that guy behind her is her boyfriend? That would be REALLY awkward. 

“Yeah of course! I’m Kenzie and this is Jordan!” Kenzie says, pointing at the guy behind her. “What’s your name?”

“Oh- I’m Li,” I say. “Nice to meet you guys.”

“Yeah me too,” Jordan says with a grin. “Can we get your number? So we can meet up sometime to work on the project.” Oh yeah, we don’t get class time for this. 

“Yeah of course,” I say, pulling out my phone. I open my contacts to show them my number. They both whip out their phones.

[bell noise]

“See you around, Li!” Kenzie says, packing up her things and waving goodbye. I wave back. I also pack my things up. 

-

             The moment I step into my apartment, I collapse onto my couch. I seriously forgot how exhausting school can be. I guess not going to school for a year really screws you up.              I get up from the couch and take my homework out of my bag. I put my earbuds into my ears and start with my algebra 2 homework. 

             [ping]

             I look up from my school work to see a message from an unknown number. Who could that be? I opened the text message.

Unknown: heya li this is kenzie from global history

Unknown: the other number in the group chat is jordan

Unknown: Hi

Oh yeah, the project. I add their numbers to my contact before I reply.

You: Hey, what’s up?

Kenzie: jordan and i were wondering when u r available to meet up to work on the project

You: I’m free whenever, it’s up to you guys.

Jordan: Cool cool wanna meet up at Kenzie’s place next week?

You: Sure, that’s fine.

Kenzie: cya tmr li !!

I set a reminder for next week and closed my phone. I try to continue my homework as a light throbbing begins in my head. I groan. I guess I’ll make dinner now and head to bed early tonight.

Rei's POV

He seems a little too old compare to the typically observed 'junior' year... A little abnormal, no? Was he held back or something? He seems less orderly than the others, more sloppy..... He looks like he's a social outlier, with no companions, no 'friends', nobody that likes him, how sad.

"...Xil'ka! For your first Vro'thak zel'quar, you will receive a tek'lar zhor'vath xin'dar project..."

Is my translator breaking..?

I roughly tapped the back of my ear, hoping that some buttons were just broken.

Ugh… The budget could not be utilized to get me a better translation unit? I have done everything they ask of me, and they can't repay the favor? assholes…

"You will be making a zog'tar blimmo timeline about one of the global zylo'vaq history topics listed on this glib'nar sheet. You’ll zerk in grob'no groups of 3-4! I’ll squib your xarn with the remaining jort'lix time to find a klor and jibble the topic you want to quorpl. Glarx me your grob's zyx topic by zort'la tomorrow."

Seriously? You're kidding me, right? They want me to learn their languages but can not provide me with a sufficient translator? Ugh! Stop thinking like that, Rei! I'm lucky to even be here right now.. Stay focused. Focus on him. Remember why you're here. Okay.. He has a group project and he can't find any person to work with him. He seems distressed, panicked. I almost feel bad for him. Awww.. He's burying his face into his arms, sulking as he pities himself for being a social reject. What a loser.. He's just pitying himself, instead of trying to just fix such a simple problem. All he needs to do is just talk to other people. He can't do it on his own? Well, I mean maybe he has too because he's already on his own. Oh. Forget that thought. A person is talking to him. “Hey! You alright?” "Yeah..." Yeah? Seriously? Obviously not. You're sinking into your seat like you're about to break down.

“That’s good! Do you have a group yet? I haven’t seen you around,”

Really? Nooo way.... You haven't seen him around because he is not supposed to be here. He's an incompetent outlier. He was held back. What a moron... The more I think about it, the more miserable this guy is.

“Nope," . . . Is he going to say anything else? Does he know how to keep a conversation going? “Is it okay if I join yours?”

“Yeah of course! I’m Kenzie and this is Jordan!”

“Oh- I’m Li, nice to meet you."

“Yeah me too, can we get your number? So we can meet up sometime to work on the project.” “Yeah of course,”

Oh. That's how they communicate. I heard about this. They're all too reliant on their phones to think for themselves. Sure, my planet is a more technologically advanced than theirs but at least we can think. Half of the people here are looking at the screen for almost the entire d-

[bell noise]

Oh goodness! What the f̸͚̀ũ̴̧c̶̥̾k̵̡͝!? Ugh.. Those noises are agitating.. Do they really need to be so loud that they're ringing in my ears? If I could block out this sound, I would. “See you around, Li!”

-

Okay.. He's already collapsed on his couch. How lazy do you have to be? I was watching him the whole day and this stuff seems pretty easy. He's weak if he can't do this.. I watch him as he sighs and gets up from his couch, and takes out a worksheet labeled "ALGEBRA II" Algebra two? Seriously? He looks like my age and he's still learning algebra two? That's simple. This should be easy for me.

[ A/N ] slow updates.. sorry guys!! this is just a chapter to introduce more characters. next chapter might get better (*^_^*) hope u liked!

[geo-winchester]

First Christmas together with Richard Alonso Muñoz 👀

HAPPY ACCIDENTS

A/N: hi lovely anon!! Thank you for your request I’m sorry this took me a lot of time and I hope that you like it and for all the others request I promise you I’ll going to work on them I’m sorry this took me more but I got a few things that got me a hard time but I’m working to be better, a lots of loves!! 💙💙💙

———————

It’s been a few months since you moved to your new home, you met Richard a few weekends later, he was kind, and made you laugh with his dad jokes, he always waved at you before he gots into his car and went to jail. You help him decorate his place for the holidays and everyday he comes to your place with any excuse. On Christmas Eve he heard your scream, he tensed when he imagined the worst but all his muscles relaxed when he saw you in front of your door in one piece.

-Yn, are you ok?- he asked you, you turned to him.

-No, my door got stuck, I can’t get in and I have to cook for the night and my parents will come for the first time- you said, he noticed the stress in your voice. .

-Hey- he said as he hugged you -calm down- he said as he took you from the shoulders -look we can figure this out, you can come to my place, we can cook together and we wait for the locksmith to come.

-Are you sure?

-Yeah, I like your company- he said, making you blush.

You did what he said, you took all your groceries to his house. He offered his help so the two of you cooked the meal together, the two of you talked and joked with each other, you kept watching him as he cooked some bananas.

-What? You never saw a man cooking before?- he asked you.

-Not really, at least not for me… I mean I saw my dad cooking but I never been with a guy who can cook before.

-Well I’ll cook for you- he said, making you blush.

A few hours later you were able to get inside to your place, you invite Richard to spend the Christmas with your family, your parents were kind and talk a lot with him. When your parents were ready to go you followed them to the door, you blushed when your mom told you that she liked Richard. You made your way to the kitchen where Richard was helping you cleaning.

-Richard stop, you help me enough- you said, he gave you a soft smile.

-It’s no problem- the two of you look at each other -It’s getting late I should go-

You hug him before he starts to make his way to his house, he barely puts a foot in your driveway when you call him.

-Richard wait- you said -here, I forgot to give you this, it’s some leftovers.

-Thank you- he said -it wouldn’t be Christmas without this- you smile.

-Thank you again for your help.

-It’s no problem- you gave him a little nod before you started to make your way to your place but suddenly you stopped and turned to him.

-Richard- you said as you stood in front of him -Would like to have a date with me?

-What?

-I’m sorry if this is inappropriate, but I like you… or maybe you don’t like me and I misunderstood all the signs- you said as you tried to get away but he took your hand and kissed your cheek.

-I like you, I really do- he said -and I didn’t know how to act, believe it or not I don’t do this much often -you smiled -what about tomorrow- you look at him confused -are you free? Maybe I can cook for you.

-With one condition.

-shoot.

-Can you please do those fried bananas?- he gave you a soft smile.

-Deal- you smiled before you kiss his cheek -merry Christmas Richard- you said.

-Merry Christmas cariño.

Xxxxxxx

Tag list: @writefightandflightclub @mariesackler @multifandomlife22 @mattmurdocksscars @phoenixhalliwell @autumnleaves1991-blog @supernovafeather @ofstarsandvibranium @santigarcia @itspdameronthings @ahookedheroespureheart @later-gators12 @22carolina08 @in-between-the-cafes

If you want me to add you to my taglist please let me know🙈

[aenariasbookshelf]

Preview - untitled holiday story

In my defense, the entire story is outlined, even though I only have a few thousand words written so far. But it is the right season, and I need an entry for this week’s challenge for @darcylewisbingohq​. This preview perfectly fits the ‘returning home prompt’, if I do say so...

title: ...I’ll get back to you on that when I figure it out author: Aenaria rating: this bit is Gen, the whole story is likely to be M/Explicit prompt filled: returning home characters: Darcy Lewis, her family, Steve Rogers, a whole host of other Avengers pairings: Darcy/Steve (this should not be surprising by now) tags/warnings: none for this part, but I’ll update this field as needed link: summary: In which Darcy Lewis returns home for the holidays.

Chapter One - Friday, December 20, 2019

“Yes, Grandma, I swear, I’m coming tomorrow.  Yes, I’ll be there by sundown.  I’ve already got my train ticket!”

That last statement is a total lie, but Darcy will never tell her grandma that.  

She doesn’t have a time management problem, she swears.  It’s just that sometimes other things (like helping Jane explore the universe) end up taking priority and she forgets things like buying an Amtrak ticket until she’s at the station, hoping like hell there’s still a seat available and paying through the nose for the one remaining business class ticket on the entire train.  But this time?  Well, the first night of Hanukkah’s on Sunday.  And Christmas is just a few days after that.  And everyone under the sun (or at least in the United States) is going to be traveling this weekend.

She’s so screwed.

Maybe she could rent a car and drive?  It’s not that long to get to Brooklyn from the Avengers’ Compound, only a few hours.  She thinks, at least.  She’d have to look at a map.

So, so screwed.

Darcy shoves the latest stack of printed results under one arm, and uses her other shoulder to keep her phone propped by her ear.  “Did I what?” she asks, then rolls her eyes when her grandma repeats her question.  “No, not yet.  I’ll get them something down in Brooklyn...yes, I realize we have all sorts of artsy villages and stores upstate, but I haven’t had time to pick up the perfect trinket for Aunt *insert name here*...why?  Because work...look, I’ll text you when I’m on the train tomorrow...Okay, bye Grandma.”

She jabs her thumb down on the little red button with far more force than is needed, and drops the phone into her pocket.  The sigh that she lets out is near explosive, and she resists the urge to bang her head against the doorframe to the lab.  This really is a minor issue, and Darcy knows she’s making all too big a deal out of something that has a simple solution.  But she’s already got that reputation in her family, the one who would be late for her own funeral if she had the chance, of being just that much of a flake because she legitimately forgot about something.  And the last thing she wants to do is let down her grandma.

“Okay,” she tells herself, taking a deep breath.  “Walk this stuff over to Jane in the main building, then research trains, then research rental cars.  You can do this, girl.”

Jane’s lucky in that she and Darcy have a small little lab building to themselves to work out of on the main Avengers’ Compound, so that they can do work at night to their heart’s content and not have to worry about disruptions from busybodies, but there are some days when the main building has the equipment that they need.  Also the 24 hour canteen there was a godsend on those days when Darcy had to make sure Jane actually fed her body and not just her brain.

It’s in this main building where Darcy overhears what could possibly be her Hanukkah miracle.  It’s a little fuzzy, overheard with one ear as she’s rushing past.

“What time’s your flight at LaGuardia tomorrow?  I want to make sure we leave here on time.”

Darcy literally freezes in her tracks, then walks backwards until she’s standing next to Steve and Sam, who have paused in their chatter to watch her bemusedly.  “Did I hear you two say you’re heading down to the city tomorrow?”  She may be perpetually late, but never let it be said that Darcy doesn’t have balls.  Just because Steve may be Captain America doesn’t mean that he’s not a friend of hers (that she has a mad crush on, but she’s not going to think about that right now in her hour of need) that she can’t ask for a favor.

Steve’s eyebrows raise up, and there’s a slight smile on his face.  “Yes?  I’m giving Sam a ride to the airport.”

“Got room for one more?”

[strawwritesfic]

Takeshi Yamamoto x Female!Reader: But Uh-Oh Those Summer Nights [Ch. 9]

Summary: “Summer lovin’ had me a blast / summer lovin’ happened so fast.”

Challenge: “10 Summer Events” by someone on Lunaescence Archives.

Ratings/Warnings/Tags: T (Sexual humor; sexual dialogue; summer vacation; comedy; fluff; eccentric grandparents; Grease references; Takeshi & Hayato & Tsuna; Takeshi & Hayato & Tsuna & Reader; Reborn & Tsuna; Reborn & Reader; Original Character & Reader)

Pairings: Takeshi Yamamoto/Reader

Tag List: @imaginesfire​

Master List

Chapter 9: Looking at the Stars

The sound of something small and hard hitting your window woke you at 2:00 that morning. You ignored it at first. Probably just a tree branch in the wind, you figured, as you flipped over and snuggled Chinatsu (the cat plushie Yamamoto had won for you) a little harder into your chest. 

Then, it happened again. 

Chinatsu hit the floor as you sat straight up and peer around the dark guest room. Everything appeared to be in order. Nothing moved. No shadows leaped from behind the pieces of furniture.

And then the sound at the window came again. 

This time, you shrunk back. Should you call for your grandmother? Should you cut out the middle man and call the police? 

Another tiny crash filled the room once more. Swallowing, you rolled off the bed and tiptoed toward the window. You crouched a few steps away from the bed before scurrying over to the window and peaking your head up just above the ledge. 

And what did you see but a whole lot of...not much. The light of the moon hitting the glass obscured whatever was out there. You huffed as you fumbled with the latch. Just why you were opening your window in the dead of night was beyond you. Some creep would probably force his way inside as soon as he had the option.

The window slid open with barely any sound. Nothing outside made any noise either. You frowned, stuck your head out, and looked around. No one clung to the nearby tree, or hung from the roof, or made any move whatsoever to tackle you out of the way. 

Then what had made all that noise?

“[Name]!”

“Takeshi?” 

You threw yourself further out the window trying to spot the boy on the ground. Of course, you forgot about gravity. It took you several seconds of flailing to regain your balance enough to get back inside your room.

“Careful!” His voice carried a laugh up to your room. 

Again, you stuck your neck outside, though this time much more carefully to hiss, “What are you doing here?”

 “I came to see you!”

“At two in the morning?

“I thought we could do something together.”

“At two in the morning?”

“Yeah. You’re leaving tomorrow, right?”

That gave you some pause. A quick look at the clock on the bedside table confirmed it: You had less than eight short hours of time left in Japan.

“What did you have in mind?” you asked.

“Come down,” though you could not see him, you could still hear his smile, “and I’ll show you.”

“All right. I’ll meet you at the front door.”

“No, no! You have to sneak out!”

“What? Why? My grandma won’t care, you know!”

“I know. But it’s more fun this way! Come on!”

All of a sudden, the ground looked even father away than before. Your eyes had adjusted enough that you could make out various dark shapes against it. One tall, moving shadow was probably your boyfriend...if your boyfriend was made for ants. You were on the second floor, and there was nothing to climb down on. What did he expect you to do, –

“Jump!” he called.

“Are you crazy?” Perhaps Hayato had been right about Takeshi’s intelligence after all. “I’m not jumping out a second-story window!”

“’ll catch you!”

You could no longer keep the edge of hysteria out of your voice. “Why can’t I just use the stairs?”

“Because we’re having an adventure,” he said, as though this were the most natural thing in the world. 

“Do I have to?” 

“Yep!”

“Fine. But if I end up with a broken leg, I am so breaking up with you.”

“Sounds like a deal.” Good grief. You could hear him smiling still. At least you did see the Takeshi shadow move closer to your grandmother’s house before it opened its arms. “I’m ready.”

You took another deep breath as you stepped out onto the thin window ledge. Below you, the darkness seemed to spin. Well, you had two options: Make the leap and squeeze in a little more time with the first boy you’d ever loved, or turn around, go back to bed, and leave him disappointed. Gulping, you squeezed your eyes shut as tightly as you could.

“Are you coming?” he asked.

Without answering, without opening your eyes, you inched forward two more tiny steps, then threw yourself in the direction of the yard. Your fall was short, but your heart pounded hard the entire way down until you fell with a quiet thump into Takeshi’s waiting arms. He buckled slightly before he stood up again. When your eyes popped opened, you found his smile a mere inch or two above you.

“You okay?” he wanted to know.

“I am now.”

“That was impressive,” he said as he righted you and placed your feet firmly on the ground.

“Yeah, well.” You sounded breathless. “Thanks for catching me.”

“Always! Now, are you ready to go?”

“Lead the way.”

“All right.” His grin broadened. “Let’s make a break for it.”

His excitement was catching. You found yourself nodding along and smiling in return as he spoke. Your eyes darted toward the dark windows of your grandmother’s house. It was unlikely she would be upset at a nighttime jaunt with Takeshi, but he was right–you were having an adventure, and pretending you couldn’t be caught made things a lot more fun.

Takeshi caught your eye and pressed his finger to his lips. You tried not to giggle as you mimicked him. As soon as he made sure you were paying attention, he darted toward a nearby bush. Back and forth he sprinted across the lawn with you in hot pursuit. Only at the gate did he stop to pat your head. This made you giggle outright before you followed him at a brisk trot down the street.

“We made it!” you cried triumphantly.

“We did. Let’s go!”

“Right!”

“Make sure he wears a condom!” your grandmother shouted after you. 

You shook your head, but laughed. Behind you, the light in her window shut off as you followed Takeshi away.

******

“This way, come on!” he urged you some five or ten minutes later. 

“I’m coming. Where are we going?”

“Hold on. We’re almost there.”

You pushed past another set of branches. Then you saw a large, round clearing sitting in the middle of the young forest. Takeshi stood in the very center as he watched the shifting leaves you came through.

“Here?” you asked.

“Here.”

“What’s here?”

He gestured toward the sky as you neared, but did not give you much time to look at it. As he sat down, he tugged gently on your wrist so that you lowered yourself next to him. You looked up and gasped. Above you hung an inky black expanse studded with twinkling stars. The fluffy branches that ringed your clearly hid the moon, but still you could see a bit of pearly halo drifting past the natural fence.

“It’s really beautiful, Takeshi.”

“Yeah. I wanted you to see it at least once. Before…well, you know.”

“Yeah.” You shut your eyes, leaned your head against his shoulder, and snuggled closer to his neck. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For everything. This has been the best summer ever. I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you, too.”

Takeshi’s shoulder shifted. You opened your eyes and sat up. He was looking at you, his face very close to your own. Your breathing slowed as he lifted his hand to cup your chin. The look on his face was so unusually serious that you weren’t sure what to think. Was he okay? Did you need to take him home? 

Before either question on your tongue, his lips were on your own. The kiss was was short and sweet. As quickly as it began, it ended, and Takeshi returned his usual, grinning self before he declared:

“It’s been my favorite summer ever, too.”

[johnnyraine]

Kiss to Achieve (Smut!)

Otaro Dojima/Eight (Todome no Kiss) x Male Reader

Summary: Y/n gets stuck in a Groundhog Day week with a man who’s chasing money.

Words: 1805

Tags: Kissing, Handjobs, Frottage, No Penetration

30th of September, 2023

XXX

'This is weird,' You think.

You've been stuck in a Groundhog Day situation. The first time, you were going to a cafe to meet Namiki Mikoto, when you were interrupted by the same man. He was dressed smartly, whereas you were dressed more casually.

“Eight?” Mikoto said, seemingly just as surprised by his appearance.

“Mikoto? Funny running into you here,” He said, smiling.

At the time you didn’t notice that he sort of gave you a look, but after multiple repeats, you’ve noticed. Though you still haven’t figured out what it means. But anyway, the interaction carried on.

“Eight?” You asked, curious not only about him but his name.

“Oh, uh Y/n, this is Eight… a host.”

You thought for a moment, “...Like a host club?”

She gave an affirmative, to which you told her you don’t judge. You did, admittedly. Just a bit, but that’s her own life.

After the introductions, you’d thought this “Eight” seemed to be a nice enough fellow, if not a bit persistent. You could be wrong but it seemed like he was trying to get rid of you. If so, he failed. You kept talking with Mikoto as he entered with his own two cents every now and then.

When the conversation came to an end, you waved to the two and turned to leave.

“AH!” You started, getting their attention. “I forgot.”

Turning back to face Mikoto, you said, “Can you spare some time tomorrow? I’d love to catch up with you and maybe show me around a bit.”

Mikoto broke into a smile, “Of course. I’ll call you later for a time.”

You nodded and left.

~~~~~

Then you woke up to the same day.

At first, it wasn’t even very clear. Merely another day with some sense of deja vu. Even the repeating conversation didn’t tip you off.

In hindsight multiple things should have most definitely tipped you off: the fact that Eight cut you off before you could ask Mikoto to meet up, though you just called her later for that; and the most glaring being that SEVEN DAYS had passed before it all repeated.

Somehow it didn’t tip you off. Just some heavy sense of Deja vu occurred throughout the week.

~~~~~

But you can only repeat the same week so many times before you realize, “I may have a pattern for my days, but I don’t normally meet these people.”

You refuse to think about how long it took you to realize, but here you are, an hour early to your meeting with Mikoto because somehow every time You show up on time, Eight is early. Then you show up early, then he shows up earlier. And it just goes on and on. Almost as if the universe wants you not to ask Mikoto to meet up again. Ridiculous.

Five minutes pass and there he is. That handsome, smartly dressed man.

You admit that the knowledge of your constant do-overs has given you enough “confidence” to just openly check him out.

“Not back,” You mutter.

Your gaze roams over his body before going back up to his face. Which shows a familiar look of annoyance.

He turns and mutters something and though you can’t hear him, you’re certain it’s nothing good.

This has happened before, so you’re fine.

He sits across from you and you two sit in silence. Waiting for Mikoto.

Once she does, it begins.

“Eight?” She says, stunned to see you two sitting with each other.

“Mi-” Eight begins, only for you to cut him off.

“Mikoto!” You stand, giving her a hug. “I haven’t seen you in so long. How have you been?”

After you pull back from a shocked Mikoto, she replies, “I-I’m fine, Y/n. Uh, how do you two know each other?”

As she looks between you two, you open your mouth, but it’s Eight’s turn to interrupt.

“I was passing by when I heard Y/n talking about you and I just wanted to say hi.”

Mikoto looked unconvinced but with you not denying it, she goes along. You all order some snacks and drinks as the conversation carries on with new differences and few recurrences. Taking a sip from your drink as Eight and Mikoto talk, you shrug and throw out the question.

“Hey, Mikoto,” You say, getting her attention. And immediately Eight knows. “Can w-AH!”

He kicked you. Eight kicked you under the table, making you spill your drink on yourself.

‘That’s a first,’ You think for a short moment.

In the next, you exclaim, “Dude!”

“Are you okay, Y/n?” Mikoto asks, looking for napkins.

“Looks like there’s been an accident,” Eight says before smiling at you. “Why don’t we get some napkins?”

He excuses you both from the table, dragging you toward the cafe, before taking you around the corner when Mikoto stops looking.

Pushing you against the wall, he says, “What do I have to do to get rid of you?!”

“Okay so I was right, you’re a part of this whole Groundhog Day situation.”

“What?” He looks confused.

“You haven’t seen Groundhog Day?” You ask. “Serio-”

“That’s not important!” He cuts you off.

Eight stares at you for a moment before making an odd face, “Fine. How about I take you out on a date and you leave?”

“Huh?”

You must be making a face because he purses his lips in anger.

“Mate, tha-”

“How about I spend a night with you?” He says with more of a fake smile.

You cough, choking on your own spit. By the time you recover, he seems even more annoyed.

“Tha- Uh.” You rub your forehead, fidgeting. “Not that I would be opposed, it’s just that deal seems a tad iff- MMPH!”

Eight rolled his eyes before bringing you into a kiss. Not even, a full-on makeout session. His tongue enters your mouth, rolling over your stunned tongue. As your breath quickens, he sucks on your tongue before flicking it with his and pulling back.

“Well?” He demands.

“Uh… fuck.” Not your best response, but concise.

He gives you a dry smile, “Wait here.”

He disappears for a moment before returning. Not even telling you what he said to excuse you both, he grabs your wrist and drags you along to wherever. As he does so, you think one thing.

‘If Eight’s this good, I wonder how good One is?’

You seriously consider visiting his host club.

~~~~~

You stand in a pretty expensive room.

“So…wha- mmph.” Eight kisses you again.

As your arms wrap around his waist, you can’t help thinking, ‘There is a lot of interrupting in this “relationship” of ours.’

The kiss doesn’t last as long as before. Eight pushes you onto the bed, landing on your back. He starts to take off his clothes, loosening his tie before tossing it to the ground along with his shoes.

He motions to you, “Undress.”

Doing so, you kick off your shoes and toss your shirt before getting to your pants, at which point you remember to ask, “Are you topping?”

“Yes,” He says like it’s obvious.

“Then no.” Your reply is immediate.

“Why not?” His eye twitches as his jaw moves side to side.

“Well, I don’t want to bottom, nor do I know you well enough to even consider.”

He stares at you, his bare chest just there to ogle. Which you do. He takes a breath and starts to redress.

“Meet me back here,” He says, buttoning his shirt.

Catching on, you stop him, “Wait! How about we just stick to basic stuff? No…”

You motion, “Penetration.”

He considers it for a moment, “And the deal still stands?”

“Yes.”

XXX

The both of you end up kneeling on the bed, facing each other. For a moment’s hesitation, he brings into a heated kiss. Expecting it, you give back your own force. Your tongue enters his mouth before he has a chance, following in his examples and rolling over his rolling.

As your tongues practically replace any penetration, trying fuck the other’s mouth, your hands wander between his open button-up. Your fingers brush against his abs and sides. Your thumb flicks a nipple, eliciting a strained moan from him, making you smirk against his lips.

Felling it, Eight grips your hair, pulling you deeper into the kiss.

His tongue enters your mouth, forcing your tongue down, running his over it. You openly moan into his mouth.

With practiced ease, you open his pants and grab his cock.

You feel his fingers twitch and tighten and you pull back, “Already this hard, Eight?”

Stroking his hardening cock, you smirk as he sneers at you before doing the same.

You groan, leaning into his neck as he teases the tip.

“Y-you pretty good,” You stutter.

“I Am the best host,” He says with evident pride.

You huff against his neck before nipping and sucking on it, certain to leave hickies.

Your mixed groans and moans fill your ears as he leans his head back. Shifting closer, you take his hand off, replacing it with your own and pressing your cocks together. Feeling the heat from each other’s hardened members, you bring him into a kiss and jerk each other off.

The mess of your kissing doesn’t bother you, they way your teeth sometimes brush each other as you feverishly go from sucking his tongue to biting his bottom lip. The excitement gets to Eight as well, his hips thrust up into your touch, speeding up his own climax.

“Eight,” You rasp.

Eight grabs your shoulders as he tenses up. Feeling how close he is, you speed up your ministrations, thrusting into your own hand and against his throbbing member. You bite your lip and let out a low groan as you both cum, covering your hand and the bed in your hot seed.

Gasping, you slowly stop your movements and let go.

Looking at your hand, you burst into laughter.

“What?” Eight looks at you in question, catching his own breath.

“I. Apparently made the best host. Cum, first try,” You say between breaths.

You continue laughing for a while before cleaning up.

As you get dressed, you ask him, “I know we have a deal, but I have to ask. Do you think Mikoto and I are interested in each other?”

Eight pauses for a long moment before slowly turning his head to you, he grits out, “You’re not?”

You burst into laughter once more, “No. We’re old friends, met some years ago when we were younger. Less rich.”

He narrows his eyes, catching that last bit.

“Rich?”

“Yeah, back then I was worth a little under nine hundred million. Now, thanks to some cruel deals,” You rush that last bit. “I’m somewhere around a hundred billion.”

If you could only hear the cha-ching sound, you’d know you just gained a husband.

[kiruuuuu]

Kiru's Advent Calendar, Day 20🥃

Hey, so, uh... remember Day 8💋 and Day 9🍑? The Smoke/Mute PWP? Because I sure did. And I wrote a sequel, I just couldn't leave it at that and neither could they :) This is just the first part, second and last part and Smoke coming tomorrow! (Smoke/Mute, Rating E, explicit + emotional hurt, ~5.4k words)

(Also, I feel like I should tag you, @cerosin, because I "forgot" to mention there was a sequel back when I sent you the first fic - so, surprise? 😁)

.

Their eyes meet right after Smoke finds his footing following a dramatic combat roll to escape the exploding building. He’s carrying the bit of intel they so desperately need in form of a USB stick, and Sledge is elated when he hands it over – the mission was a success, there were no casualties on their side and Mute is staring at him like a hungry wolf at its prey. Oh yeah, they’re gonna do this.

“We’ll analyse this immediately”, Sledge tells them, ignorant of the sparks flying between his two friends, the raw animal magnetism, “are you coming with us?”

“You go ahead”, mutters Mute, not taking his dark eyes off of Smoke. “And don’t wait up.”

A minute later, Smoke’s back smashes against the remnants of a wall caught in the explosion, a wild beast tearing at his clothes and trying to suffocate him. Mute is ravenous, urgency guiding his movements as he undresses his lover and the same impatience makes them skip any foreplay: Smoke is ready, already open and wet and bends over at the insistent shove, pressing his cheek against debris and moaning into the dust cloud surrounding them when Mute pushes inside, deep and even deeper, stretching Smoke to his limit.

The feeling is wonderful and though they usually take their time, Smoke relishes this just as much, the hard thrusts, the heady pleasure, the sensation of warm palms keeping him in place. He could do this for hours, for as long as Mute wants to, and he knows if he keeps this up until his legs give in and then comes, it’ll be the sweetest -

His phone is ringing.

That’s what that sound is, piercing through the residual smoke and the victorious rush following the mission and the ecstasy of sleeping with the man he loves, sobering him up unpleasantly. Dragging him back to reality.

Right.

Smoke opens his eyes to the sight of his bedroom illuminated in mood lighting, wondering why he even bothered. He took a long bath, lit a scented candle (cinnamon is his favourite) and took his time doing some ‘self care’ but if he gets rudely interrupted like this, it’ll all be for nothing. He’s out of it now, the memory of a scene which never happened fading fast and with it the euphoria, leaving behind an uncomfortable embarrassment burning low in his gut. He knows what he’s doing is messed up. Isn’t it enough that he faces the shame afterwards, now he’s also gotta repent during?

When the song keeps playing for a while longer, he figures it’s urgent enough that he might as well take it. The night is ruined, it can’t get much worse, so he’s got nothing to lose. He stretches to reach his phone and the toy inside him shifts, pressing against all the right spots so he lets out a quiet whimper. Man, what a shame – he had it all figured out, the scene was so realistic and could’ve been so, so good. He should keep it in mind for next time. Maybe.

Unless he won’t be able to fend off the epiphany anymore that wanking to one of his co-workers who clearly rejected him is a recipe for unhappiness at best and disaster at worst.

“Hey mate”, Bandit’s voice booms out of the speaker once Smoke picks up the call. He sounds at the very least tipsy, if not wholly intoxicated. “You busy?”

Smoke glances at his flagging boner. “Not anymore. What’s up?”

“Can you come get me? I came by bike but… nuh uh. Too drunk. I’ll save some of the whisky for you.”

How is there nobody else for him to call? To be fair, Blitz is out of the country and Jäger drives like he flies helicopters, which is to say like a madman, and IQ won’t take any of his bollocks anymore, so alright. Yeah, maybe Smoke is the only one he can call. “I guess. Ask how expensive the bottle was though, I don’t drink anything below 30 quid.”

“Snob. I’ll send you a Google maps thing. Bye, love you!”

And with that, he’s gone. Smoke heaves a sigh and winces as he pulls the phallic object out of himself, feeling much too empty as a result. Fitting, really.

Only throwing on an old t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants which need to go in the wash anyway, he grabs his phone and keys and taps the location Bandit sent him to start the navigation. Maybe not all is lost and he can finish what he started upon his return, but he’s not hopeful – a pissed Bandit is a hilarious Bandit and though he’ll leave Smoke in a better mood than before, he certainly won’t rekindle his libido.

Distracted with thoughts about what to do with the rest of the night, he drives through familiar streets, turning familiar corners until everything becomes a little too familiar. About one turn away from his destination is when it finally hits him.

He’s heading directly to Mute’s flat.

The dread settles at the bottom of his stomach like a too-heavy dinner, poisoning his mind with a myriad of painful memories and even more painful possible outcomes to this encounter, and all of it is making Smoke’s fingers shake. He finds a parking space opposite the building yet is unable to exit his car, not when he might have to face him, not with his heart pounding like this.

You still work together, he reminds himself sternly, you see each other almost every day. This won’t be any different. You go up there and tell him you’re picking up Dom, and that’s that. No more interaction necessary. He won’t make it awkward if you won’t.

But what if Mute just shuts the door when he sees him?

What if he turns and leaves, refusing to speak to him altogether?

What if Mute yells at him to leave him alone, that he doesn’t want him and never wanted him and Smoke is a fucking creep and how dare he do what he did and it was the worst moment of Mute’s life he’s never felt so violated and he keeps having nightmares, jumping whenever anyone touches him and -

Good heavens.

Smoke rubs his temples and tries to get the spiral under control before he has a full blown anxiety attack opposite Mute’s house. None of the above will happen. The end result is usually somewhere between the worst and the best thing that could happen (and good God, Smoke can’t even imagine the best thing happening because it’s so agonising to entertain the idea), so it’ll be fine. He’ll be fine.

Mute is fine.

Maybe he won’t even answer the door. Yeah, that’s a heartening thought – maybe Bandit is already dressed and waiting for him, said his goodbyes and Smoke won’t have to look at Mute for even just a second and he’ll drive Bandit home and then he’ll spend the rest of the evening sobbing into his pillow and whoops, there he goes, back to the dark place. That was fast.

Mute just won’t answer, because that’s the easiest option, and Smoke will be fine. He’s only been here a couple of times anyway, once to pick up the TV Ela wanted and Mute didn’t need anymore, once for Mute’s birthday. Once when Mute needed help carrying some decommissioned equipment home and Smoke stayed much longer than planned because they played around with it instead of unpacking properly and then Mute ordered food for them and they watched the beginning of a horrendous horror film while eating and then ended up watching the whole thing, and Smoke went home much too late that evening but felt like he was floating and looked at Mute differently from then -

Deep breaths.

Dom must be getting impatient. He should go.

The sound of him slamming his own car door shut startles him, as if he needed a reminder about his current mental state. He crosses the street, practising smooth one-liners with which to greet Bandit to convince him absolutely everything is fine, and breezily jogs up the stairs to the first floor. Bandit will answer, maybe Smoke will stick his head in to greet some of the others (because he heard party noises on the phone, so there’s clearly something going on, and no he isn’t obsessing about why he wasn’t invited), and then they’ll leave and it will all be alright. Maybe Mute will be in the bathroom. Or he’s too busy doing whatever to pay any attention to him.

Smoke knocks with a fake air of confidence, putting on a smile and straightening his clothes.

Mute opens the door.

He looks fucking gorgeous.

And Smoke feels his smile flicker.

.

How long has it been? How long since the fateful encounter which drove them apart?

When he tries to, he can recall every second of it, every noise, every small gesture, every gaze between them. These days, he doesn’t try anymore and yet the memories keep flooding his mind at the most inopportune moment – in the presence of others, in public, during a conversation, doesn’t matter, he’ll be minding his own business and spot an advertisement showing a bit of skin and bam he’s back with Mute’s cock down his throat trying desperately not to cum.

And Mute just -

Instead of turning him down, he simply stopped turning up.

Fucking coward.

Like Smoke can’t guess what’s going on when people start acting odd around him, side-eyeing him and asking in private whether there’s something wrong between him and his former best friend. Like he doesn’t know Mute flees as soon as he shows up, disappears around a corner, forgot about a meeting, needs to go right this moment. Like Mute isn’t telegraphing it loud and clear by not telegraphing anything, by ignoring texts, by forcing conversation when they have to, by quietly requesting to be assigned to a different team.

And that one stung. The other events hurt, sure, left a low ache where Smoke’s heart used to be, but knowing the very person he trusted so much, adored so much, loved so much – that this man couldn’t stand sharing any kind of space with Smoke? It left a mark. Because it might mean one of them has to leave Rainbow, and then they won’t see each other at all anymore, and Smoke knows how much being a part of the team meant to the both of them. How proud they are to have made it.

But what smoulders beneath it all is blinding, deafening, muting shame.

Because Smoke knows he overstepped a line. Took advantage of Mute’s vulnerability. Acted selfishly. No assurance of consent was going to be enough, not when the other man was in such a state, and instead of showing compassion and responsibility, Smoke took what he wanted and deluded himself into thinking it was mutual.

Well. Mute’s behaviour made it abundantly clear that the opposite was true.

He’s had terrible nights imagining Mute lie awake as well, remembering being touched against his will and wondering how to go on with his life.

And despite all this, despite any leftover rationality in Smoke screaming at him to apologise, to attempt to make amends, to talk it through with somebody, despite it all he can’t stop thinking about it. Can’t stop seeing Mute that way, flushed and sweaty and insatiable. He chooses him to star in his fantasies. Which makes the whole situation so much worse.

.

So yes, when Smoke stares at the object of his most shameful desires, he’s utterly tongue-tied – he won’t be able to express any of his inner turmoil in words nor will Mute be willing to hear it, so it’s best to just … ignore him. Acknowledge him with a non-committal greeting, enter his flat, grab Bandit, drag him outside and cry himself to sleep later, aaand he’s back to feeling sorry for himself. Because his best friend abandoned him. After he committed a heinous breach of trust.

This is not the most productive use of his time.

They’re still staring at each other, unmoving, seconds later. Mute has certainly been partying, his cheeks are reddened and his ears are following suit, the comfortable dark grey t-shirt looks rumpled and he’s barefoot. His expression is unreadable in the low light. He’s not letting go of the door.

“I’m here to pick up Dom”, Smoke eventually explains himself, to which Mute steps aside to let him in. This probably means he won’t fetch the German by himself, so Smoke takes it as an invitation to explore the flat – he passes the kitchen where glasses are piled up, and steps into an empty living room. It’s not a large apartment but Mute valued comfort over style and has crammed enough sofas and armchairs in that it easily houses a medium-sized get-together. Except all signs point to the very same having finished already: there’s no one here.

“He left with Seamus”, Mute speaks up behind him and his voice makes it suddenly apparent that he’s been drinking too, and not a small amount. He’s swaying slightly, blinking often, his tongue seems heavy. “Maestro picked them up. A few minutes ago.”

Well, that explains it. Smoke huffs in annoyance and is keenly aware of Mute blocking the only exit – rather, he’s standing in the doorway, looking as lost as Smoke feels. This is unbearably awkward. He feels like an absolute bellend.

“I think he set something aside for you. There’s a bottle in the kitchen.”

Oh, a win-win: Smoke won’t have to listen to Bandit’s drunken gibberish yet reaps the reward anyway. Focusing very hard on not paying Mute too much attention, he squeezes past him (and good god, the one half-shared breath has his heart skip a beat) to get to the dimly-lit neighbouring room, wondering when it became normal for the people around him to host a party without extending an invitation. It hasn’t happened often, but it has, though he remembers attending a few events with Mute conspicuously missing. Maybe they didn’t want to pick sides and chose each of them equally. What a cop-out.

His scalp is prickling and he realises how tense he is just from being in Mute’s private space. He should leave as soon as possible, though it’s likely the damage has been done; alcohol is a downer and painful memories tend to exacerbate a bad mood (for which Smoke is responsible, and he knows it). Picturing Mute fighting off demons on his own at night makes his heart ache, so he might have to say something. Advise against loneliness.

And he would know.

The bottle is labelled Tobermory, a brand with which he’s not familiar, and more than half empty. He’ll just grab it and leave, drive home and do the very thing he’s about to tell Mute not to do: drink alone. Maybe. Whatever lifts this crushing weight from his chest.

As he turns around, Mute is behind him again, staring with an uncomfortable intensity – does he feel so unsafe that he has to follow Smoke around his flat? Has it gotten that bad? His arms hang uselessly by his sides, fingertips fiddling with a loose thread sticking out of his jeans. He looks like he wants to say something.

And dear lord, there is so much at the tip of Smoke’s tongue. Above all, an apology, followed by a despairing plea to go back to a semblance of what they were, of needing to be a part of this beautiful young genius’ life; he’d beg for forgiveness if it meant Mute would be able to look at him again, exchange more than tactical communication during missions, not react with sudden panic when he tries to talk to him anymore. He knows he’s not owed any of it, far from it, but it doesn’t stop the excruciating longing inside him. To see him smile again. To just sit next to him in peace.

“James”, says Mute, calmly, with next to no slurring. And hearing his name uttered from this mouth almost causes him to tear up.

This is not the moment. Mute is tipsy at best, vulnerable and unguarded, and Smoke will not take advantage of him again. They can talk another time. Even then, worry and concern take over, take control of his tongue and voice some of his thoughts. “You shouldn’t be alone today”, he mutters. “Don’t spend the night by yourself.”

Mute’s expression shifts, he briefly looks taken aback and Smoke wants to smack himself – as soon as the words pass his lips, he realises how they must come across. Why does he keep making everything worse, always? As he scrambles to come up with an appropriate explanation, Mute takes a step forward. He didn’t take it the wrong way, did he? Then again, if Smoke ends up being smashed against the counter for his dumb mouth, he’d deserve it. And hey, if it makes Mute feel better, he’d gladly -

He’s really close now.

Close enough for Smoke to smell him and this is bad. Lowering his gaze does nothing to help, it gets caught on slightly parted lips, on the strong jawline, the exposed neck. The bit of collarbone peeking out. On the heartbeat visible through his shirt. Why is it so fast? Is he -

When Mute leans down, time stops. The world ceases to be. And then Mute kisses him. Just a bit, briefly, no more than a second, but their lips touch and Mute’s breath is on his skin and then it’s over again.

Smoke stares at him, thunderstruck. He – what just happened. Why did he – is this for real.

What even is going on.

Mute does it again, longer this time and Smoke’s body is catching up faster than his mind because he feels his still-loose hole twitch in completely inappropriate anticipation, and his dick is taking an interest in this sudden turn of events as well, and he wishes he could just shut off certain bodily functions. Because this isn’t right, he needs to tell Mute no instead of returning this heavenly, sweet kiss, needs to extract himself from this situation entirely instead of tilting his head like so, needs to stop this … fluttering sensation. Mute smells heavenly, his lips are as soft as ever, gently insistent. It feels so good. Better than any memory or fantasy.

???, goes his brain, not even able to form coherent thoughts as his former friend interrupts the slow kisses to lean back and look down at him with a mix of curiosity and something tantalising, something dark. This is wrong. They can’t do this, he can’t do this, not without clearing the air first, having a proper sit down and talk. Yeah. He should tell him. He needs to tell him they have to cease right this instance. He plucks up the courage to open his mouth and say something, and what comes out is a breathy, pleading, pitiful: “… babe.”

Mute grabs him by the shirt and slams him against the kitchen counter – fulfilling Smoke’s prophecy in a very different way – before crushing their mouths together once more, stifling the embarrassing moan to escape Smoke’s throat at the gesture. He’s half hard now, wrapping his arms around Mute’s neck and basking in his body heat, their proximity. Despite having no idea what got into Mute, his first instinct is to set aside all doubts and enjoy the moment for as long as it lasts.

Which is a terrible notion. It’s what destroyed Mute’s trust in the first place. But how, how is he meant to refuse this? How could he ever?

When it might be the reconciliation he’s been yearning for?

Mute’s tongue is licking any sense out of him, leaving him reeling with its determination to coax out more and more noises, and the delicious way their bodies slot together like they were made for it rapidly fogs up his brain. Heat pools in his crotch, both front and back and he sharply regrets not finishing before driving here – the wanton need merely slept instead of being sated and now awakens with renewed hunger, tugging on his sinews to get him closer to Mute, even closer, press their lower halves together with an undignified moan followed by an ardent echo when his own half-hard shaft meets another.

Fucking hell, Mute is really into this.

Two cool hands slip under Smoke’s shirt and one rests on his lower back, holding him in place if not forcing them even closer, while another creeps up his side, drawing small ticklish circles with its thumb before digging in between his ribs, following the movement of his laboured breaths, rising whenever his ribcage expands. He can’t think straight, is rapidly turning into a hot mess especially when Mute’s hips grind against his own, forcing him to acknowledge the entire length of Mute’s cock, every inch tangible and coaxing out memories. Inconvenient memories. Memories of being bent over a crate and coming undone, coming untouched, of -

A sharp jolt of pleasure has him snap his lower half forward without meaning to: the long fingers exploring his chest have found one of his nipples and started caressing it gently, brushing over it with a fingertip, pinching it slightly. Smoke interrupts their mind-numbing snogging to hiss a quiet fuck, repeats it when Mute continues his ministrations and adds a low moan at wet lips sucking on the side of his neck. He feels both malleable and utterly trapped: Mute’s body is basically wrapped around him and now he’s moulding Smoke however he wants to, he’s shoved a leg between Smoke’s and starts pressing against his crotch, lifting him slightly while bending his upper half backwards to allow for better access to his neck and jaw.

It feels fucking amazing. It shouldn’t, but it does. Smoke is reminded of being at Mute’s mercy and relishes the memory. He’s more than ready to give himself up once more.

“Do you like this?”, Mute mutters, slurred voice a low rumble over Smoke’s skin as he keeps stroking over his nipples with varying intensity, brushing lightly before pinching. “Does it feel good?”

Jesus Christ, now that the lad is (mostly) of sound mind and not preoccupied with getting himself off as fast as possible, it turns out he’s a tease. Smoke is struggling to stay upright as it is, there’s no chance he’ll be able to engage in any kind of conversation or voice his preferences when he can groan in pleasure and hump Mute’s leg instead. His hole is pulsing by now, hungrily clenching around nothing and no doubt weeping for Mute’s girth, and still there’s a tiny voice at the back of his mind asking him whether he really wants this. Whether he’s ready to trade these sensations for a friendship. Again.

“Babe”, he says, and he genuinely wants to demand they stop. He does. He really, really does. If Mute doesn’t listen, there won’t be anything he can do, Smoke’s body is too charged, too sensitive not to go along, but chances are good Mute will listen. If Smoke earnestly asks him to stop, he will. There’s no doubt.

Except, well, before he can utter anything else, Mute kisses him again and these aren’t ‘I hate you but I’m a horny drunk so let’s get it on’ kisses. They’re not ‘I just want sex from you’ kisses. No ‘I’m confused about what I want’ kisses. Mute doesn’t half-arse things, and neither does he half-arse capturing Smoke’s lips in such sensual, deep, adoring kisses that he’s rendered speechless. Though his nipples continue to be abused in the most titillating way, one of Mute’s hands finds the opportunity to bury itself in Smoke’s luscious hair and softly tilt his head into the kiss. Their tongues aren’t involved at first, it’s just smooth lips pressing against his own, chasing his, a relieved sigh following as if uttered by a reassured lover, a gentle massage of his scalp, a tight embrace, a body melting against his.

These are ‘we just reunited after being apart for too long’ kisses. ‘Meeting at the airport after a long vacation’ kisses.

Holy hell.

They’re ‘I missed you so much’ kisses.

Oh boy. Something has happened here and though Smoke can’t identify it yet, his body realises much sooner what it means – he might be able to enjoy this guilt-free after all.

The moment Mute’s tongue touches his is the moment he suddenly becomes aware of how soon this is going to be over if they don’t quit dry humping. Smoke’s primed enough as it is, desperate for any kind of release (even into his sweatpants) and throbbing at this point, the lack of an orgasm earlier coming back to bite him since the roaring need blots out everything else. They have to get a move on, so he bravely reaches between them and unclasps Mute’s belt using what little brainpower their lovely making out leaves him. He keeps moaning into Mute’s mouth despite trying to concentrate on getting his jeans open and eventually just admits defeat, fingers too shaky and mind preoccupied with all the wonderful sensations everywhere on his body.

“I’m gonna come”, he gasps as a last resort, “babe please, I’m gonna come soon. Wait. Please wait, oh fuck -” One of his nipples is twisted in response, causing his erection to jump, and Mute latches onto his neck again, sucking so insistently there’s no doubt it’ll show. Which is a gesture too hot for Smoke to handle right now. “Babe. Please. I can’t -” A hard rod presses against his own, startling a helpless mewl out of him. This isn’t good. He can’t control himself, not near his climax like this, so he’s relying on Mute to do the right thing.

…an intoxicated, horny Mute, and yeah, maybe this isn’t one of his better ideas.

In his desperation, he resorts to the only possible action capable of halting his impending doom and twists in Mute’s arms, writhes until he’s awarded enough leeway to fully turn around and have Mute rub against his arse instead. Which is only a marginal improvement seeing as the large dick fits beautifully between his cheeks and it reminds him too sharply of the position in which Mute fucked a hands-off orgasm out of him.

He wonders whether Mute will manage a repeat performance and feels his face grow warm at the thought.

Arms snake around his torso, conveying Mute’s unwillingness to let him go, and a hand dives down past the waistband of his sweats, meeting nothing but skin. Oh, right. He didn’t dress properly, did he.

“Oh my god, James”, purrs Mute right into his ear, making him squirm. It’s the second time Smoke’s name falls from his lips and where the first occurrence sounded composed, this time it’s both scandalised and excited. He better not think this is all premeditated, it’d kill Smoke if his friend (ex-friend?) assumed he turned up here expecting to get laid, though there’s still one detail left to discover which will undermine him even further. Best not to beat around the bush then.

Well, that and he really, really, really wants Mute’s gorgeous cock inside him right this instant.

He’s overwhelmed as it is, there’s teeth at the nape of his neck and now Mute’s wrist is warm against his dick, deft fingers cradling his balls like they were made for it (and how does he know all of Smoke’s sensitive spots, he exploits everything as if someone had given him an instruction manual, turning Smoke’s knees into butter and his brain into mush), and Smoke can’t. He can’t. He doesn’t care they haven’t shed a single piece of clothing or exchanged an honest sentence since he came here, couldn’t care less about more foreplay or god knows what. Propping himself up on the counter with Mute draped over him like an overprotective, jealous lover, in between jumps of his cock in reaction to the indirect stimulation, he pleads: “Just put it in, babe. I’m ready. You can fuck me right here.”

And though the Mute in his head reacts with unbridled enthusiasm by taking him up on the offer with no hesitation (and wouldn’t that be amazing, just getting railed in Mute’s kitchen mere minutes after arriving, he’d come so hard he nearly passes out staring at the bottle of whisky Bandit put aside for him and all would be fine again), the real-world Mute pauses for a second. Lets go of Smoke’s balls to reach around to the other side, brushes over a quivering hole that instantly relaxes against the probing fingertip, undoubtedly notices how wet it is.

Don’t ask me about it, Smoke implores him mentally, just don’t ask and do it. Please. Fuck now, talk later. Come on.

Two fingers are shoved inside him, pushing the air out his lungs. Smoke lets out a small, helpless noise and then another when the fingers move inside him, push deeper, twist and scissor – not as wide as the toy he’d used earlier but more precise, brushing over his sweet spot with worrying accuracy as he whimpers in disbelief. He stares into nothingness while Mute explores his insides, makes his entire body curl in sudden lust whenever he hits that special place and yes, maybe getting fingered to completion is fine too. The third one finally blurs his vision and nearly has him smack his head on the kitchen counter in response to an especially vicious twist of Mute’s wrist – and though he’s enjoying himself, he idly wonders whether Mute wants some loving, too.

He’s not left wondering for long.

“Bedroom”, Mute orders, voice thick. His fingers withdraw, leaving Smoke gaping and gasping. “Let’s…” A shaky intake of breath, then another, quieter: “… bedroom.”

The lad doesn’t move until Smoke does, probably stalking after him so Smoke can’t see his face (which he already has anyway, and Mute looks as unguarded and open as he did last time: cheeks and ears flushed, off-balance, longing, beautiful). Walking is awkward due to his legs not cooperating fully after Mute just tried to reach into his guts, let alone the general haze clouding his mind; but what it does is allow him a few seconds to think. Unimpeded by curious hands roaming over his body, by an insatiable mouth requiring contact at all times.

He misses Mute’s touch already.

Still… how did they end up like this? A tinge of his previous doubts remains as he himself knows how powerful nostalgia can be, especially when amplified by alcohol. But surely, that can’t be it.

And even if it is, Mute won’t blame him the next day. Right?

… right?

Two details cause this line of thought to screech to a halt: one realisation, the other more immediate. The first is the fact that Mute’s bedroom is an absolute mess. Smoke remembers the layout of this flat, legs carrying him to their destination without any presence of mind required and it doesn’t click until he’s pressed down on the handle, made the door swing open. Clothes are strewn about everywhere, the small desk is crowded with all kinds of shite, the bed is unmade, the wardrobe door askew, a few dirty dishes piled up on the bedside table. No doubt none of Mute’s guests set foot in here this evening. Yet Smoke is allowed to, even asked in, invited into the most intimate part of Mute’s living space and the implications aren’t lost on him. Mute could’ve left him in the kitchen, or they could’ve moved to the living room. Instead, they’re here.

The second one begins as a light touch and changes into a hand wrapping around his, reacting to his prompt by interlacing their fingers, holding on tight. His heartbeat is pounding in his ears as he stands there like an utter idiot amid this mess, face burning, clutching Mute’s hand so hard it must hurt, and doesn’t dare move a muscle in case all of this vanishes in a single second. In case it’s some fragile, wishful dream. They’re holding hands. And Mute initiated.

What the fuck.

[oonajaeadira]

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#how terribly sad it is that people are made in such a way that they get used to something as extraordinary as living.  --jostein gaarder

My Top Posts in 2022:

(spoiler, it's all PATS and Sweets)

#5

The Tolerant Devotion of Extracurricular Caretaking

(BANANA BREAD WITH BAKING CHIPS- Sweets Series)

Rating: T. Fluffy AF.

Fandom: The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez and f!reader (his assistant “Girl Sunday.”)

Warnings: Javi is...not at his best. Whiny!Javi.

Summary: The hardest part of your job is taking care of a sick Javi. But in many ways, it’s also the best part.

A/N: I hadn’t planned this installment but for an ask that came through asking what Javi’s like when he’s sick. My answer got longer and longer until I thought it might be a nice moment to illustrate a time that Javi isn’t the sweetest–yet still cute AF–so here we are. Also, I started thinking about some of the other employees in the house. I imagine they’re something like a little found family all hand-picked by Javi. You’ll get to meet a couple of them here.

Lo siento = Sorry

Me corto los cojones = here it’s akin to saying “I swear to God” or “sure as shit.” (Literally “I’ll cut my balls.”)

If you’re curious where the nickname “Sunday” comes from, you can find the answer in the first fic at the series masterlist!

“Oh, lo siento, Néstor! That’s mine. Isn’t it your day off?” You’d come into the kitchen to find the cook lifting the pot cover and getting a good whiff of the steamy concoction.

“Sí. But I will be doing a market run tomorrow and forgot to count how many lemons we have. You keep using them for the lemonade. What is this?” 

Néstor is a good-looking man in his early fifties, bald, thick-rimmed glasses, tall and sturdy, rarely smiles on the outside. He’s prone to wearing tight-fitting black clothes, a very imposing figure…unless you scan all the way down to his pink kitchen crocs, festooned with Disney pop charms. He’s a big fan of Coco and Baby Yoda.

“It’s my grandmother’s chicken noodle soup.”

His stare is long. Impassible. “It smells fucking amazing. I want this recipe.”

“Of course. It should be ready. You want some?”

“Sí.” Dry as a bone, he collects two bowls from the cabinet and starts ladling up the soup like a bricklayer scooping mortar for a wall, all business, passing the first bowl to you and cradling the second in one square hand, blowing on it a little before taking a sip. “It’s good. Good spices. Chicken is tender. Mm. Chives?”

“Thanks. Yes. Gran used to make it for me when I was sick.”

“You make this for El Jefe, no?” When you duck your head in a nod on your way to the drawer for a spoon, he barks a laugh. “Me corto los cojones you two are like an old married couple.”

Deflecting the blunt jab with a little smile and a sidelong glance, you begin your retreat out of the kitchen

“Eh, Sunday.” Without relinquishing his soup, Néstor moves to the freezer and cupboards, pulling out a couple of items and tossing them on the counter. “Be warned, he is a terrible patient. It will soothe him you make him something sweet. But not too sweet. Not good for sickness. I know he likes your banana bread.” Two black and frozen bananas clatter onto a plate near the hot soup to thaw.

“Oh,” you stammer. “But I don’t have–”

“Yes you do.” Reaching up to a high cupboard and moving a couple of flour packets, he pulls out two bags of baking chips, one chocolate, one cinnamon. “If I don’t hide them, he will eat them.”

“That sounds about right.” Again you turn to go. Again you stop. “He told you about my banana bread?”

Taking a long sip of the soup and stopping to chew a noodle, he nods, stoic, a warm glint in his eye. “He tells me a lot of things.” He tips his chin at the bowl in your hands. “That is going to get cold.”

“Right. See you tomorrow, Néstor. Thanks.”

________________

A knock on the door earns you a pitiful “nnnnnnnnn” from inside Javi’s bedroom and you take that to mean “yes, come in, but oh my god I’m miserable and you should know it.” 

Half of Javi’s face is lost in his pillow when you peek in, but the eye you can see squints at you in defiance, his chin curling up in a pout, his voice a low croak. “I feel like shit.” A couple of pathetic coughs wrack his body and he turns his face fully into the pillow to spare you.

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592 notes - Posted February 12, 2022

#4

Good. Things. Take. Time. 3: Leap of Faith

Fandom: Calls (THIS IS AN APPLE TV SERIES. PATS is a character. This is not RPF.)

Pairing:  Pedro Across the Street x f!reader

Rating: ***Explicit.*** Those under 18 please do not enter.

Warnings: Wall-to-wall angst. Sex. Sex work. Sexual massage. Painful yearning.

A/N: Breathe. I promise that the sun does shine again.

Summary: This is it, isn’t it. This is happening.

RESIGNATION  (1.2k)

DISCERNMENT (967 words)

THE FIRST LEAP (843 words)

THE SECOND LEAP (349 words)

THE THIRD LEAP (653 words)

THE FINAL ASSESSMENT (1.5k)

MOVING ON (492 words)

(gif by pascalsky)

RESIGNATION

The black Subaru hatchback you’re parked behind has a “I brake for animals” bumper sticker. It’s been on there a while; sun faded, shredding at the edges. The other cars on the street you know, the regular Thursday crowd. Most people in this neighborhood park in their garages or in their driveways. Someone must have a guest. You doubt it’s his car.

You realize you have no idea what kind of car Patricio drives.

You’ve done more sexual acts with the man than you can count, have pressed moments of his painful past out of him like a fruit in a juicer, he’s bought you breakfast pastries–twice–and you have no idea if he’s a Ford man or a Fiat boy.

He’s in I.T… Probably a BMW. Or an Audi. Maybe even a Tesla.

Doesn’t matter. Perhaps you’ll never know. Not unless you take a leap of faith. And even then…if you fail, you’ll really never know.

Your car engine clicks through the silence as it cools down, as you watch the clock, preferring as always to arrive just a little early and walk up to the door right on time.

A little too early this time. You’ve given yourself too much time to think.

It’s like he’s put himself behind glass. He’s right there, the same lover you’ve known since that first blissful session, but you just…can’t…get at him. There’s a strange energy in the room now. Hard to pinpoint the exact metaphor. The way he looks at you. Like a monk recognizing the temptation in front of him and denying himself the pleasure in order to save his own soul and stay free to save others. You can see him back there behind those eyes, but you can’t really grab hold. He prefers to remain back there with his pain–the hurt he caused his former girlfriend–a deep, deep wound.

And if you tried to…tried to push through and possess…what would he do? 

There’s a good chance that it could be your last session.

You’re not ready. You need some other logic, some other–

A double-tap on the passenger window yanks your focus into the present. A look to the window yanks your heart along with it.

“Hey, sorry,” he laughs nervously once you unlock  the door and he ducks his head in. “I saw you out the front window. Would you mind coming in a little early?”

A glance at the clock shows you have eight more minutes.

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598 notes - Posted April 21, 2022

#3

The Blatant Presentation of Glowing Adoration

(DIPPED MADELEINES- Sweets Series)

Rating: T. Fluffy AF.

Fandom: The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez and f!reader (his assistant “Girl Sunday.”)

Warnings: Sappy, y’all. I just pile on the sap. This cupcake is just a vehicle for the frosting.

Summary: There’s a party going on at the Gutierrez mansion and Javi has a gift for you.

A/N: This was originally going to be a two-parter to control the sap, but I thought maybe drawing it out would make it worse, so here we are. Sunday’s dress is based on this one and holy balls I want it.

If you’re curious where the nickname “Sunday” comes from, you can find the answer in the first fic at the series masterlist!

“No, no Giorgio, they need to stay here! Um…las plantas…aquí…shit.” You pull out your phone, desperate for the translation app.

The old Italian gardener rasps out a dry laugh and pats your face with a calloused hand, and gives you his own brand of sunshine with his weathered smile. He says something about it being alright, that he’ll make it pretty, but you can only guess at so much. Spanish you can do, but your Italian is limited, and since Javi is fluent in both, the old man never bothers to translate.

You’d had the big potted palms brought into the courtyard and arranged just so, creating a kind of pathway for the guests of the evening’s party to walk through, and here was Giorgio and his wheeled cart, loading them up, thinking perhaps they were a delivery and he needs to take them out to the garden.

“Giorgio, they’re for the party. The fiesta. Uh…fest..uh, festa!!”

“Festa!” he chuckles. “Sí, sí, festa delle piante!”

“No, Giorgio–”

“Sunday?” Javi arrives from the archway, your benevolent savior, his curls still damp from his shower, the drawstring linen lounge pants and mostly open shirt just a temporary wardrobe for padding around his house before the formal main event this evening. “You are here! I have been looking for you, I have–”

“Oh, thank god, Javi, could you help me? I know Giorgio wants to help but I can’t get him to understand the arrangement and I don’t have time to explain–”

“Yes, yes, of course I can do this.” It isn’t until Javi gently lays his hands on your shoulders that you realize how high you’ve been holding them, and they melt downward with a stroke of his palms. He smiles through his minor concern. “It will be alright. Everything will be perfect. Please do not be upset. Okay? You work too hard.”

You relax a little as Javi enters into lyric conversation with the gardener, trusting him to do the explaining. But the ice sculptures will be delivered any moment and you’ve left the gratuity envelope on your desk, so you leave him to it, calling out a thanks over your shoulder.

“Sunday? Wait?”

But you’re already moving down the hallway.

When Javi suggested you hire a PR agent for this party, you should have taken him up on it. After a recent sickness, both of you were still playing catch up. But this party was for family. His cousin Niko–a young up-and-coming fashion designer–had just landed a commission with Loewe. It was a big deal and everyone was proud of him. Javi never overlooked an excuse for a party, and it was usually your job to coordinate them. It got to be a bit more extravagant than you originally planned and you’d lost track of time and–

As you pass the kitchen, a different voice booms–

“Sunday. Your assistance por favor.”

“Sorry, Néstor. Can it wait? I have to–”

“No, it cannot, get your bum bum in here.”

Puffing up your cheeks, you give a frustrated blow entering his arena, Néstor’s immaculate baking counter lined beautifully with golden, fluffy madeleines, half of them dipped in white, the other in dark. 

“This is what you want?” He gestures flippantly, walking away to gather mixing bowls and bringing them to the sink. 

“Oh, they’re perfect. Niko will be so happy!”

“I know they are perfect. But you must taste them. I think maybe your opinion is wrong and I will make some that are plain with dusted sugar. These two? Profiles too similar. Taste.”

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634 notes - Posted March 4, 2022

#2

The Superfluous Meeting of Utmost Importance

(ORANGE VANILLA POPSICLES - Sweets Series)

Rating: T. Fluffy AF.

Fandom: The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent

Pairing: Javi Gutierrez and f!reader (his assistant “Girl Sunday.”)

Warnings: Please schedule an appointment with your dentist before reading this fic. 

Summary: It’s the day of the meeting.

A/N: Okay, y’all. You asked for the meeting where Javi confesses the love everyone here and everyone in the household knows he has for Sunday, so here it is. However. It’s not the only meeting Javi’s concerned with.

This one’s from Javi’s POV and I hope you enjoy that. I loved getting into his curly little head.

Audemars Piguet = a very expensive watch. Believe me.

If you’re curious where the nickname “Sunday” comes from, you can find the answer in the first fic at the series masterlist!

The way the sunlight kisses your hair, how you move your jaw when you’re thinking–a way of not clenching it in stress–the way your fingers skip over your keyboard. You’re determined to get your work done by his 2pm meeting today.

A meeting you’d set the date and time for per his request–he smirks–to “confess.”

Javi is completely in love with you. Has been for a while now. He’s never felt the need to hide it. It’s not a revelation, it’s just an everyday truth.

You’re wearing one of the tops you brought with you when you took the job months ago. It’s cute on you. It’s the second time you’ve worn it this week. He could buy you a whole closet of clothes, enough to never wear the same thing twice, but you wouldn’t ask for that and he’d never insist.

You don’t care about his money. You’re happy to have a room in the house, but you eschewed the down comforter for your grandmother’s afghan and he even had to push you to choose your office furniture or you would have gone without. The only time he can give you extravagant things and get a reaction out of you is with high end meals…but even then, it can’t just be expensive, it has to be good and prepared well before you lose yourself in a blissful sigh. You appreciate his gifts but value his attention and trust more than anything else, he can see that, see the shine in your eyes when he asks for your opinion or tells you something he’s never admitted to anyone else.

He loves this about you. He loves that he could buy you a Monet and you’d still rather look at the moon.

He knows he doesn’t have to tell you. But he wants to say the words and leave you no doubt. Grins broadly when he thinks about it, feels comfort all the way through to the marrow.

But which words? How to say it? He isn’t sure yet.

Leaning pigeon-toed against the doorway to your office, he watches you for a moment, your back to the door. Even though you’ve positioned your desk to look out at the ocean, you spend much less time staring out the window than he does. He wishes you wouldn’t work so hard–your dedication creates a beautiful, taut ping in his chest–but he knows you enjoy it and he’d be lost without you and your devotion. It is good that you’re different than him in this regard.

A glance down at his Audemars Piguet shows it’s just turning 11. Three hours then. Maybe he’ll go for a swim.

But instead of taking the stairs and heading for the pool, he suddenly has the spark of an idea and heads past them to the kitchen.

“Ah. Néstor, hi.”

“Buenos dias, jefeeeeeee.” The garlic he’s mincing holds the cook’s attention, but he sings off a dry greeting.

The kitchen counter is covered in bowls and plates full of freshly chopped and grated ingredients for tonight’s dinner–a special meal for a special night–they both know how much you like Néstor’s homemade wood fired pizza. A margherita, a pugliese, a prosciutto crudo e rucola… he will keep creating and firing them until you’re both full and then he will keep going so that there will be leftovers for the cook’s day off.

Javi rocks on his feet as he watches Néstor stir the simmering sauce on the stovetop, waiting for a moment when he won’t be too much of a bother, but his patience runs out. He asks the cook for his help. To help Javi make something himself. Something sweet. He doesn’t know what though. He just came up with the idea a minute ago.

Néstor swirls the wooden spoon through the steaming tomatoes, silently, expertly, taking his time and assessing the texture. “Para Sunday?” He asks, frowning, not looking up from his gentle mixing.

“Sí.”

“Hoy es el dia de la confesion, eh.” 

“Ah, sí.” That’s right. He told Néstor about the meeting last night at the party, hoping for advice from the confidante but only receiving a thoughtful stare and the assurance that he would plan something special for dinner.

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658 notes - Posted March 20, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Good. Things. Take. Time. 2: One Bed

Fandom: Calls (THIS IS AN APPLE TV SERIES. PATS is a character. This is not RPF.)

Pairing:  Pedro Across the Street x f!reader

Rating: ***Explicit.*** Those under 18 please do not enter.

Warnings: Masturbation (f and implied m), hand job, oral (m receiving), feather light dom/sub/switch, P & V (unprotected but with prior safety agreements), kissing, praise in droves, instruction compliance, the usual implication of nefarious massage practices / something like sex work. PLOT. Boring shit about database programming, characters you’ve come to know outside their element, a drop of angst, yearning across a crowded room, character shock and name swap (wait...what?), and, as always, PATS* is his own warning.  *Now with more soft.

A/N: I was getting ready to write a one-bed fic and asked y’all to vote on a character. Another boy won, but at one point, PATS was in the lead and I panicked. How do you write a one-bed fic with characters whose whole playing ground IS a bedroom? My brain wouldn’t shake the challenge and this is what happened. I will also say: this is not a direct sequel to the first fic. It continues the entire series that’s been building through the sessions. 

I have more notes, mostly thank yous to y’all. You can find them at the end.

Anti-Summary: “This can be a pause. Pause of treatment-client relations. What happens in this room isn’t what happens in your room. That space is sacred and I don't want to compromise that in any way. And if it’s a pause, it’s a complete pause. No touching, just sleep.” (Adira’s note: hahahhAHAHAHAAHAHAHAH GOOD TRY.)

.

As with the original fic, this will be broken into sections if you need to take a breath.

REGISTRATION (1.4K)

DISORIENTATION (1.8K)

THE FIRST CONUNDRUM (512 words)

THE SECOND CONUNDRUM (784 words)

THE THIRD CONUNDRUM (958 words)

THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED (3.8K)

ASSESSMENT (1K)

REGISTRATION

“I want you to repeat as necessary this week. The key is to enjoy yourself, Preciosa. Feel free to log in and make a note about how you felt when you started, how many times you came, and how you feel at the end. I’d like to hear about it. See you next week.”

You tap your phone on its dash mount to wake it up and press the replay button.

“Hey. So…I’ve never actually done this with a client, so thanks for being my guinea pig. I know you like to try new things. Again, sorry I had to bail on our session, but maybe this will be fun so… Take off your clothes and get yourself comfortable. I’m gonna talk you through a few things. And I want you to imagine I’m there with you, okay? Your hands are my hands–”

It’s the third time you’ve listened to the half-hour recording. After the first go through, you had to find a rest stop and pull over. When you’d finally emerged out of the single-stall restroom, you had to apologize to three angry women waiting in line. You couldn’t–and wouldn’t–do what he told you to do in a public stall, no matter how cleanly it was kept, but it was easy enough to just get a quick fix and clean yourself up so you could keep driving. Sure, listening to Pedro’s mellow tones guide you through the most intense self-satisfaction scenario you could possibly imagine while going 70 on the highway wasn’t the best idea. But as long as you keep your hands on the wheel it should be okay.

__________________

–I’m sorry about this, Preciosa, but I won’t be able to keep our appointment on Thursday. Life is getting in the way. If you don’t mind though, I’d like to make it up to you.

The chat had been waiting for you on Sunday morning when you logged into the portal and he was still active.

–Make it up to me? I’m the one who’s getting weekly sessions at a bi-weekly rate.

–Plus tip.

Oh yeah. That.

–Hey. You deserve it.

The chat sits for a full minute.

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675 notes - Posted December 31, 2021

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