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trashpandacraft · 1 year ago

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With regards to modern coal tar dye: is the production of it safe for the factory workers? What about the environment, in terms of waste water and petroleum processing, etc? Just curious.

i think this is a really good question, and one that deserves an answer. it's also not a question that i can answer comprehensively.

i want to be up front here that—again—i'm not a chemist or a scientist. i'm just a guy on the internet who is super interested in food processing, food history, and dye. in real life, i'm mostly an editor and sometimes a writer and researcher. because of my specific life, i'm arguably more comfortable reading government regulations and material safety data sheets than most people are, but i have no expertise here. if someone does have that expertise and feel that i'm misrepresenting things in this post, they should please 100% correct me.

but so: is the production of modern coal tar dye safe the factory workers? the first and biggest problem with this question is that these dyes are made in a lot of factories. there are a ton of chemical manufacturers out there, and many of them make food dyes. for the dyes to by approved, they have to be batch tested to meet quality parameters, so we can be pretty sure that the end products are all approximately the same. does that mean that the working conditions in the factory are good? no, it doesn't. i assume that working conditions vary as much from one chemical manufacturer to another as they do between other factories. as far as i'm aware, there's no way for an end consumer to tell what factory made the dye they're eating or putting in their hair or whatever.

i'm guessing that's not what you meant by safety, though, and you're asking more about the petroleum-specific aspects. and again, honestly, i don't know this about dye specifically. however, we as a global society are incredibly dependent on petroleum products—and there are a lot of them. (more on that in a sec.) but petroleum is used in so, so many things. it's used in asphalt and aspirin, dish soap and deodorant, mascara and mineral oil, plastic and paint, toothpaste and tires. it's what we make plastic from. it's genuinely almost impossible to overstate how many things in our lives are created with petroleum products. but we don't think of most of those things as threatening or toxic, and we often don't really worry that the materials themselves are going to be hazardous to the workers who are making them.

i don't know enough about the specific bits of petroleum used to say which, if any, of these products are more or less hazardous to the people making them. hopefully none of them are; probably some of them are. given how incredibly broad the overarching category of 'made at least in part from petroleum' is, though, i'm going to guess that dyes, specifically, are at least not hugely better or worse than the other things on that list.

part of why i'm comfortable saying that is because most of these dyes have actually been around for quite a long time! by the 1930s, six of the seven coal-tar dyes currently in use in the united states were already being made and regulated by the fda. (source) so we've had at least a hundred years of these specific dyes, which is generally plenty of time to realise if they're going to give everyone who works with them cancer. a hundred years of non-controversial production and usage is, in my opinion, a pretty decent safety assessment.

but let's back up some more. we know that they're ok for the end consumers, and we know that they're probably ok for the people who are making products with them. but 'petroleum' is kind of a weird word that encompasses a lot of things, ranging from crude oil fresh out of the ground all the way on down to some of the products that are made with it. mineral oil is petroleum. gasoline is petroleum. but they don't come out of the ground like that.

here's another place where my knowledge falls apart a little. my understanding is that crude oil is split into different parts through a process called fractional distillation. the oil is heated until it vapourises, and then components of the vapour condense at different temperatures and are split out like that. i have to reiterate: this is my very baby-level understanding of it. i've fact-checked myself and it seems that at an incredibly basic level, this is correct, but feel free to google 'fractional distillation' or 'fractionation' to read about it yourself.

i have no idea how bad this process actually is for the environment, and there are—obviously—strong incentives for corporations to conceal this. there's also a human urge to blame things on 'that new plant'. i used to live by a cracker plant, which both fractionates and processes the ethane created by the fractionation process. i had neighbours who worked there and seemed happy enough about it. i also had neighbours who swore up and down that it's the sole cause of pollution in that area, that the smells and air quality are terrible. (worth noting that because of the nature of this kind of plant, i can't differentiate between 'pollution etc that is directly related to fractionation' and 'pollution etc that is from the cracking process', though my understanding of the matter is that the latter is a bigger problem than the former.)

having lived there, i know full well that the plant wasn't the sole reason for the bad smells and air quality—there were other, different plants that definitely helped. did the cracker plant make it worse? in my opinion, yeah, it did. but did it have to make things worse? was it worse in part because of lax regulations and regulatory enforcement? was it worse in part because the company was given waivers and legally permitted to release pollution over the normal legal limit? (this part i know—it was.)

could regulations negate any pollution from the plant? i have no idea; i honestly don't know enough about the process to say. could stronger regulations (and stronger enforcement of the regulations, and not giving companies regulatory waivers because they ask nice) make that plant pollute a lot less? it could. is there the political will to do that? certainly not where i was living, but possibly in other places.

so the plants aren't great, but they could be made better, at least. i'm not aware of any unique health and safety concerns for workers at those plants, assuming that things are up to code and they're wearing appropriate ppe, but my source here is a couple guys i know who worked at one. would someone who's studied chemicals say differently? i don't know.

that's a little ambiguous! how safe is it for the workers? safe enough that the factories exist and are able to be in compliance with the health and safety requirements of many countries. could they be safer? probably. are they meaningfully less safe than working in factories that create other types of chemical? i don't have enough data to say for sure, and i don't really know how to get it, either.

ok we're almost done, but let's back up one more step. coal-tar dyes were originally made from coal, and are now mostly made from petroleum. but coal and petroleum have to be extracted, so what about the people who are extracting them?

and here we're into a whole different kind of difficult topic. how safe is mining? how safe is working on an oil rig? not very. they're both industries that are notorious for being ruthlessly profit-focused, no matter what the human cost of that is. they both have high mortality rates, and depending on what list you're looking at, they're consistently considered very dangerous.

but a lot of people take those jobs anyway, either because they're the best option on offer or because they hope the payoff will be worth it. i have an uncle who's worked his whole life in the mines and has the physical damage to show for it. his son turned eighteen and went over to the same mine to see if he could get a job. (he did, eventually.) i don't especially like this uncle or this cousin, but they're not stupid men. they looked at their options and figured this was the best one. i've known people who worked on offshore oil rigs, people who chose that job on purpose, who felt that it was worth the tradeoffs and risk. and maybe for them it was! i wish no one was making the choice of 'is the increased risk of death worth the increased rate of pay', but i wish a lot of things.

how safe is resource extraction for people who don't work in it directly? again, i think that most of us will agree that it's not very safe. fracking isn't good! our horrifying single-minded reliance on extracted resources is slowly killing us all! i don't think anyone's ever shouted for joy because the local mining company bought all that forest outside of town and they're gonna raze it. no one's thought that it would just be really cool to have an oil well in the back pasture just for the aesthetic value.

on the other hand, what's the alternative right now? i don't mean in an ideal future where we've done sensible things like converted everything to renewable fuel sources—what's the alternative right now? short of some sort of global cataclysm, i don't think there is a viable alternative right now. i think that a lot of very smart people are working very hard to create alternatives; i think that a lot of very wealthy oil executives are working very hard to make sure that those alternatives will fail before most of us ever hear so much as a whisper about them.

so ultimately, are coal-tar dyes safe? yes and no! yes in the sense that consuming them isn't going to hurt you. yes in the sense that i can't find any particular reason to think that they're riskier to make than any other product being made. yes in the sense that their production is in compliance with governmental health and safety regulations. and also no in the sense that resource extraction is inherently damaging to the land, water, and people of the world. no in the sense that it's not environmentally sustainable.

this is a really long answer to say, essentially, 'it's complicated'. but also: it's complicated. the closer to the consumer end of the chain you get, the safer things generally become. farming is more dangerous than cooking is more dangerous than eating; using hair dye is less dangerous than making hair dye is less dangerous than extracting the resources from which the hair dye will be made.

i don't know if this answers your question. it's a hard thing to wrestle with, for me. how safe does something have to be for it to be safe enough? where's the cutoff? is there anything where enough is known about the entire supply chain that we can accurately say that nothing and no one is harmed by its production?

honestly, probably not, at least right now, and i don't really think that it's mentally healthy for us as individuals to dwell on that for too long. the world is imperfect, and we make the best choices we can with the information we can get. in the specific instance of coal-tar dyes, i think we can probably say that they're not causing an unusual amount of harm, or more harm than most products do, and that's probably about as good as it'll get.

#dye #this ended up being ten billion words long and i'm so sorry #but this is genuinely a moral question that's almost impossible to answer #but also one that i've spent a lot of time thinking about #just by virtue of where i've lived and stuff like that #i honestly think that the hardest thing about trying to make the world better is that you have to keep living in it while things improve #smartest raccoon i know

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destinygoldenstar · 10 months ago

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I think it’s important of a reminder that I personally think it’s fair to critique for what a media DID do, not what they didn’t do. Because what you expect could not be the writers goals at all, and you only end up disappointed when it doesn’t do exactly what you expect.

Cause if I had a nickel for every January release of a third act of a franchise season I’m into that I’ve been disappointed by when the rest is otherwise really good…

Blah blah two nickels.

I already talked about the Total Drama Reboot ending. In all honesty I think the reception is understandably more split than anything else. Either you love the third act or you don’t. I just happened to fall in the latter category. I loved the first 8 episodes though. It’s more of a ‘This was great until it wasn’t’ situation.

And what do you know, there’s another show that also had a January third act that had me sum up that season.

Hirogaru Sky Pretty Cure.

This season was GREAT. Until it wasn’t.

I think that’s the perfect phrase for this season.

Now for context, though I don’t talk about it much in my posts, I follow all kinds of magical girl tags.

Magical Girls are my special interest. I’ve written more magical girl stories than I’ve published online. My OC, GoldenStar, can be classified as an OC if you wanted. Magical Girl shows just press my autistic buttons so much and I can never get enough of them. (Except Magical Girl Site, that show can burn in my memory and never come back in my head)

You don’t know what the genre is, it’s a sub-superhero genre that’s (most of the time) female centric, that involves (usually) a team of girls finding powers, having beautifully animated transformations into superhero personas with big hair not suited for combat, and they, with the power of love and friendship, kick ass and save the day.

Think Winx and Lolirock if you’re western.

So naturally, I couldn’t get enough of Pretty Cure back in the day. As it was basically the perfect ‘magical girl obsessor campsite’. As every season of the show has the benefit of having a brand new cast of characters each time, and therefore different lore that keeps things fresh.

I guess best way to explain it to western users is ‘Power Rangers but magical girls, and animated’

Which is an ironic way to explain it cause Power Rangers is actually an American Adaptation of a franchise called Super Sentai… made by the same company that made Pretty Cure.

I kinda had a falling out with the franchise though. That’s because, and let’s be real here, the newer seasons are kinda lousy.

Now, hold on, it’s not all bad these past five years. I loved Healin Good and WILL defend it. Tropical Rouge was decently fun and had some great episodes. But compare the seasons these past five years to some of the older ones like Heartcatch and… yeah, there’s a noticeable writing dip.

Especially when you get into Delicious Party…

That was the first time I ever downright hated a Pretty Cure season and got angry at multiple points. And if I wasn’t angry, I Aw as bored to tears. Not a good combination. Just so so SO much wrong with this season from beginning to end. (And saying that opinion got me blocked from Fandom.)

But then Hirogaru Sky was next, and yes, wow, it started out PHENOMENAL. I was blown away again and completely invested again. This season seemed like it was doing all kinds of shake ups to the franchise and taking the entire structure in new directions. While also paying homage to the first season with the duo team structure. I loved its main characters and their dynamics throughout the show. The designs are gorgeous. The first half is thrilling and intense and some of the best of the franchise since Hugtto. Back then, I was about ready to call this an S tier season and in my top 5…

This is why you wait till a season is done before you go say stuff like that. I learned that now.

Now, I’m not actually going to dunk on the ending this time. Because bottom line is: It’s one very stupid plot twist after another to the point where it’s like they can’t make up their mind what they want, none of the build up throughout the show amounted to anything, and the final battle is horrifically paced and completely botches the character arcs of certain people. Sora in particular.

Not THAT Sora. That Sora had an amazing payoff. I’m talking about Pretty Cure Sora, not Ninjago Sora. Dragons Rising was really good and actually stuck the landing.

But I do think we’re hating on this season for all the wrong reasons. I know we all made predictions about where the story was headed, and almost all those theories became wrong.

Like, I know we all predicted, myself included, that Shalala was the twist main villain. This turned out to be wrong. But they didn’t have to do that if they didn’t want it.

It’s the same thing with Total Drama. We all predicted Damien was a finalist and that turned out wrong. But I chose not the criticize that show for not making him a finalist because, well, the writers didn’t want him to be a finalist. That’s okay. Instead I criticized how they handled the role in the story they gave him. You know, what they intended.

Just because your theories were wrong, does NOT make it the end of the world. You can definitely claim that your theory would have been the better story route than what we got. BUT fact of the matter is, you’re not the writer. You don’t get to decide what the writers want to do with their story. And saying you do cause you’re a fan is just entitlement. (Go make a fanfiction if you’re gonna be that petty about it)

I keep saying, don’t criticize what the writers didn’t do, criticize what the writers DID do. Try and see what the writers were going for. Not what you wanted.

We all expected going in that Hirogaru Sky would be this epic hero-ideology season. This big philosophy on what it means to be a hero and the ups and downs that came with it. Kind of like a Kamen Rider Kuuga type of story. There was all kind of foreshadowing that Sora was going to endure quite a bit of an arc upon realizing her hero idealism was kinda trash.

We got that about the first half, then nothing. What we got instead was NOT a morally grey complex narrative. We got a simple black and white world where Sora’s hero idealism turned out to be pretty much perfect from the start, and the villain is literally just as ‘evil for the sake of evil’ as you can get. It became ‘I don’t know if I scan grow up to be a hero’ instead of ‘being a hero kinda sucks’.

So when that wasn’t the theme we got, and it wasn’t this morally complex story that we all hoped for… yeah I can see people getting angry.

But that’s not the problem for me. Because they wanted a black and white story. So they did a black and white story. So we gotta judge it by what they were going for.

Now yes, Shalala being the villain instead of who we got would’ve been preferable, if only cause the villain we got is just awful as a character and fails as a villain in almost every front. The hero role being muddied out would’ve been juicy in angst. But it’s not what the writers wanted to do.

So instead of criticizing what it’s not. I’m choosing to criticize it for what it is. That the villain was horrifically built up and a terrible character, and the final battle is horrific pacing that leaves no satisfying conclusion for Sora because of bad pacing. She gets slapped with dark energy juice and all it takes to snap her out of it is Deus Ex Machina from her BFF? Seriously? You couldn’t think of a better way to resolve that?

Just because it didn’t say stuff about being a hero that you want them to say, doesn’t mean they said anything at all. And if you want to rewrite this season to say the stuff you thought it should have, then go ahead. No one’s stopping you.

Basically, I think the third act distaste for Hirogaru Sky is justified, but people are pointing out the wrong reasons why it’s distasteful.

I said it once, Ill say it again:

You HAVE to have a solid third act. Because that’s what people will walk away from. If you try something fancy and screw up, people are gonna remember the botched ending rather than the whole story. Even if the rest of your story is fantastic.

#pretty cure #hirogaru sky precure #cure sky #sora harewataru #writing advice #writing community #writeblr

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indigoelfinspirit · 2 years ago

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I posted 524 times in 2022

318 posts created (61%)

206 posts reblogged (39%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@samssims

@wastelandwhisperer

@indigoelfinspirit

@rebouks

@mathemagicsims

I tagged 400 of my posts in 2022

Only 24% of my posts had no tags

#hadrianbc - 105 posts

#berry sims - 104 posts

#hadrian’s perfect fit - 91 posts

#hadrian cerestes - 89 posts

#ts4 - 75 posts

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#bpr - 73 posts

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#if the stars align - 71 posts

#sims 4 - 69 posts

Longest Tag: 131 characters

#it’s almost hilarious if they hadn't paid $2000 for a rental and wedding hall in tartosa only to be stuck in their nonexistent yard

My Top Posts in 2022:

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My #1 post of 2022

Hadrian’s Perfect Fit

Hadrian is ready to look for love again after having his heart broken on Ada's Bachelorette. The 33 year old stylist admits that the Bachelorette was not his finest moment, and has come to accept that he wasn’t being true to himself. Our newest bachelor is bringing a twist to the traditional challenge - Hadrian is bi with a preference for masc partners. So there may be fewer glamorous dresses this season, but Hadrian assures us there will be plenty of romance. The Bachelor and contestants will spend quite a bit of time traveling to exotic locales as Hadrian is looking for someone to go on adventures with.

The show is currently searching for contestants, and will be accepting applications until June 22nd.

More information below the cut & link to Hadrian’s full biography

Hadrian Cerestes

Age 33

Bi (leans pan but generally prefers masc or nonbinary partners)

Hometown: Henford on Bagley

Current Residence: Hadrian splits his time between Del Sol Valley and San Myshuno

Career: Celebrity Stylist

Interests: Fashion, travel, spending time with his niece and nephew, good food, and spa days

Fun Facts: He’s retained his posh Britsim accent. Spends the first weekend of every winter break at Mouseland with his niblings for Winterfest, and has a secret collection of Mouse wear explicitly for those trips.

Hadrian’s Full Biography can be found here

If you want to see what happened in Ada’s BC go here

...

Submission Guidelines

YA preferred (for the purpose of this BC that means under 40), Adult submissions will be considered and entered at Hadrian’s discretion

Gay/Bi/Pan/Queer men, nonbinary individuals, and trans masc sims accepted.

Please fill free to give them careers and skills (and cheat them a reasonable amount - don’t max everything). No romantic or unfairly traits please.

Your sim will need an entry introduction and a backstory/profile that gives me more information to go off of. Please feel free to dm me more information if you want there to be surprises or if you just think of something. Sims eliminated from other bcs will be allowed as long as their bio addresses what happened.

This BC is a bit of storytelling and gameplay so decisions will not be made purely from results. Eliminated sims may be used as side characters in potential post bc story (but if you want them back feel free to let me know). Also please let me know on the form if your sim is okay with getting pregnant or getting others pregnant (or neither or both) since mpreg is an option in my saves. I will do my best to properly interpret your sim’s personality, but this is going to be my best guess based on what you give me.

Please provide at least 1 outfit for each category preferably 2-3 for everyday and formal

Maxis Match CC allowed within limits (hair below 7mbs, skin details, tattoos welcome) CC can if be used for the first everyday outfit, but not the rest unless it is repeated (ex. Cc glasses or jewelry from the first outfit can be added to the other outfits since it’s not adding additional files). I have default replacement eyes and about a half dozen Sorbet Remix, Academia, and Jewl eyes so I will be using ones I already have, but I will try to get close if you specify a color. No Alpha cc, sliders, or custom traits (they will show up blank and I will fill them in based on their story).

No occults, vanilla sims preferred.

Pack info: All current EPs and GPS, no kits, and some SPs (Tiny, backyard, kitchen, tots, kids, movie, knitting, Moschino, laundry, and spooky)

All submitted sims will be accepted at my discretion up to 20 sims.

...

Send your gays here (google form does not collect emails)

Also post and tag me and use hashtag #HadrianBC or #Hadrian’s Perfect Fit I will reblog as I see the notifications. If I haven’t reblogged it within a couple days DM me the link.

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Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

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the1975attheirverybest · 2 years ago

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You're so sweet to matty about the ghetto gaggers thing all things considered 😅 i don't think critiquing racism and racist fetishes is kink shaming and racism doesn't become okay just because someone gets off on it. You seem a little nervous to critique it so I just wanted to come in here and say it's okay if you're not cool with that whole thing<3 no one is gonna think you're bad or shaming or anything 🫶 (also not trying to start shit about matty i still want that man in my guts every day of the week and twice on sunday)

Thanks for the encouragement. But, I’m not sure it’s that. Like, I don’t know if I’m nervous to critique Matty. I’m usually fine doing so, when I think it warrants criticism. It’s more that racialized “kink” isn’t a subject that I have given much thought to. I’m also not a black woman. (I’m Arab American but also find the designated ‘white’ label for us middle eastern folks kinda fucked up since it was solidified by a 70s court case that wanted Jesus to be white, lmao. That’s a whole separate issue.) so, I’m can’t speak on it with confidence, you know? If I’m gonna call someone out, I better have thought it through. And there were enough problematic jokes made in that pod that I WOULD call him out on, but this one didn’t come from him.

I’m just thinking out loud here, so lmk what y’all think! About the think thing, I mean. I think that it’s a tad fucked up for a white guy to be into “black women on white men” shit because I’m instantly thinking “why specifically black women? Are you exoticizing and fetishizing blackness”? Isn’t that kind of dehumanizing? Especially if it’s kinky stuff that includes a lot of physical pain (listen, I’m gonna be too much on the internet and confess that I am myself a submissive and a masochist, so I am not judging anyone who wants that shit)? At the same time, saying no to that kind of thing categorically sounds like I’m saying black women should not participate in BDSM sex films cuz they’re racist. That seems extreme to me. (Setting aside the fact that the adult film industry is itself problematic for sooo many reasons).

Then it gets even more dicey cuz what if you’re in an interracial couple. It’s normal to want the adult films that you consume to reflect your reality. You find your partner sexy doesn’t mean that you exclusively find all people of their race sexy.

I guess I’m saying I find white men who have a “black woman fetish” suspect but I think the issue is more nuanced than that and it’s hard to split hairs and make generalizations about the whole category. I’m not comfortable saying this specific type of kink shouldn’t exist at all. But I am comfortable saying that I got my eyes on you and I’m suspicious of you if you’re a white man who’s into it, lol.

NOW, back to Matty….he didn’t make the joke himself. It was the co-host. It COULD BE that the cohost simply said it to be provocative and gross. Given that a lot of the jokes that they made, both the hosts AND Matty, were racist and gross. Maybe he wasn’t thinking about Matty’s relatively recent breakup with Twigs. But maybe he was. I don’t know. But that’s hardly a situation that we can debate. So, I find it iffy.

As for the lyric “cumming to her lookalikes.” Maybe that’s what he had in mind, idk? But he probably would’ve said the same thing if she weren’t black? He’d just be watching women people porn and find someone who looks like his ex and jack off to that instead? That line is up for interpretation. I will admit that I might be biased, simply because POTB is one of my fav 1975 tracks. And, I do think that Matty has a way of making the complex crude as a rhetorical style. He does it all the time. “Eating stuff off of motorbikes” and “he would get him cooked animals” and “you took a picture of your salad and put it on the internet”

If he has said “eating stuff from delivery” the line wouldn’t be as BRUTAL, you know? Or if he has said “the internet would get him food through the click of a button” it’s not gonna hit the same way that “cooked animals” does. Or “you uploaded a picture of your meal to Instagram” not the same effect as “put it on the internet” so, the line “cumming to her lookalikes” could just mean he’s watching porn and thinking of her. Or he’s sleeping with people who look like her cuz he can’t have her. I’m not gonna take issue with that line just cuz of the way it’s phrased. But that’s just MY way of thinking about it. I respect everyone’s right to interpret things differently and I will not tell someone what they should pr shouldn’t be offended by.

Does any of this make sense? Yeah, let me know if I’m insane please lmao

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twiceinadream · 2 years ago

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“Practice Makes Perfect.”

Requested: Nope

Prompt: [High School AU] Jihyo and Y/N are best friends, but Y/N has had a crush on Jihyo ever since they met 6 years ago. Jihyo is going on a date and panics because she’s never kissed anyone before, but Y/N has…😏

a/u: Hey, everyone! I’m back with probably the first truly fluffy thing I’ve written in a long time, I don’t know how to take that information, but do with that as you please. Anyways, I was in a very Fluffy Jihyo mood and got inspired by a random TikTok. I hope you enjoy and stream: POP!, it’s so freaking good! Thank you for all the love and support, I love you guys! (Also if anyone has a Nayeon prompts of any kind, please send them in)

Word Count: 2.8k

Category: Fluff

“Y/N! Hey, Y/N, wait up!” You pulled the earbud out of your ear as the voice of your very loud best friend seemed to penetrate the volume of your music. You stopped in your tracks to turn around and face her.

Park Jihyo: your best friend, the Girl’s Varsity Golf Captain, soloist for the school’s choir, and your secret crush of six years. She came running at you with a wide smile that practically split the girl’s face in two as she made it to your side, “I have news! Y/N you’re not gonna believe it!”

You winced at her lack of volume control when she was excited as you looked around sheepishly at the people staring at the two of you, “Hello to you too, Ji. I want to hear the news, but first volume.”

A slight blush colored her cheeks as she laughed a little at herself, “Right, sorry.” The two of you continued walking as she waited to be out of earshot of anyone else before stopping you with a hand that gripped your forearm, “You’ll never guess who asked me out.” Her small figure was practically vibrating from excitement, “Chou Tzuyu!”

Your best friend squealed as she danced in place, you were happy for her, you really were. You just couldn’t help the stab of pain you felt to your heart every time she told you about her crushes, there were many but none of them were ever you. So you continued to play your role as the supportive best friend as you smiled excitedly for her, “Oh my god, that’s incredible! You’ve been crushing on her ever since she moved here! So does that mean you’ll become First Lady, Park Jihyo, to our Class President?” You wiggled your eyebrows suggestively, teasing her.

Jihyo just rolled her eyes as she pushed you away, “Shut up, that’s stupid!” She shook her head as the two of you continued the short walk to your house where you both congregated after school to study, it was a lot quieter than the Park residence. “She wanted to go out on Saturday, so I have like two days to prepare.”

You nodded as you pulled your house keys out of your pocket, sliding it into the lock before pushing the door open, “What’re you gonna do? Dye your hair a new color? Practice kissing your hand?” You continued teasing her as you both slipped off your shoes - your parents were out of town till next week - and began walking up the stairs to your room.

“Uh! Why do I even tell you things, you’re such a weirdo!” Jihyo threw her backpack onto the floor by your bed before flopping onto it. You laughed as you threw your backpack next to hers before sitting beside her on your bed.

Your smile was still wide as you poked her in the side, “Because you love me and entrust me with every secret.”

She waved her hand at you dismissively before she suddenly shot up into a sitting position, the quickness in her movements shocked the both of you as she suddenly had a look of fear in her eyes, “Y/N, what if she wants to kiss me!? I’ve never kissed anyone before!” Jihyo looked at you in horror, “What if I’m a terrible kisser!?”

You couldn’t help but look at her in humorous confusion, “Jihyo, what? Where is this even coming from?” You smiled, shaking your head, “Kissing isn’t even that big of a deal, you won’t ‘suck’ you’re just gonna be new to it. I’m sure Tzuyu will understand. Hell, maybe you’ll be her first kiss too.”

But it didn’t seem like your words had any effect on her, “Highly doubt that, but of course you’re gonna say ‘kissing isn’t even that big of a deal’, you’ve kissed people before, Y/N. I haven’t!”

You just rolled your eyes good-naturedly as you looked at her, “What? You wanna practice with me or something?”

In an instant you almost saw the lightbulb go off above your best friend’s head, “Y/N, you’re a genius!” You looked at her in confusion again for what felt like the hundredth time in an hour, “Why don’t I practice kissing with you, so I won’t feel like an idiot with Tzuyu.”

It felt like all the air had been sucked out of your lungs as your jaw dropped, “What!?”

Jihyo shrugged, “Don’t they do it all the time in movies? You’re my best friend Y/N, just think of it like I’m asking you for advice.”

You shook your head in disbelief, “Hyo, you’re asking me to kiss you. Aren’t you worried this might make things awkward?”

But Jihyo didn’t seem to see the problem with it, “We’ve walked into each other changing before, I think we’ll be okay.” Then a hint of clarity seemed to hit her as she suddenly got shy, “Unless you really don’t want to. If you think it’ll be too awkward I’ll stop pushing it.”

You sighed as you weighed the pros and cons of the next sentence out of your mouth, without really letting the rational part of your brain get a say. You answered her, “Okay, Ji, I’ll help you.”

The nearly blinding grin broke out again on Jihyo’s face as she hugged you, “Thank you, thank you, thank you! I’m gonna go brush my teeth.” Your best friend left your room as you collapsed onto your bed, the weight of what was about to happen finally hitting you as you stared blankly at the ceiling.

Your best friend, no, your crush of six years had asked you to help her practice kissing and you had said, ‘Yes!’ You rubbed your face with your hands as you groaned, “I’m an idiot.” But a small, selfish part of you couldn’t be happier at the turn of events as you could hear Jihyo coming back, ‘Might as well make this better than anything Chou Tzuyu could ever give her.’

—

The rays of the setting sun spilled in through your bedroom window as you and Jihyo sat across from each other on your bed. An awkward silence filled the room as the weight of what the two of you were about to do finally seemed to hit. Jihyo fidgeted under your gaze as you breathed out deeply, “You still sure about this?”

The dark haired girl nodded as she regained some of her usual confidence, “Yeah, it’s like what I tell my teammates all the time, ‘Practice makes perfect’.” She laughed a little to herself as you both felt the tension start to lessen, “Why are we so awkward? This isn’t a big deal, just practice.”

You nodded as you tried to find some part of yourself that would agree that this was no “big deal”. Finally you relented your quelled feelings as you smiled, “You’re right, let’s just get to the lesson. First, I’m gonna show you how to just kiss someone. Second, I’m gonna show you how to kiss someone when it gets a little more serious. Are you okay with that?”

Jihyo’s giddiness seemed to return as she nodded excitedly, “Yes, let’s do this.”

You couldn’t help but find her eagerness adorable as you stood up, before offering your hand to her and pulled her to stand as well. There was barely any distance between the two of you as you put a shaky hand against her waist and reached a hand up to cradle her cheek. You licked your lips to wet them as you spoke, “Okay, lick your lips just a little.” You watched as Jihyo’s tongue darted out ever so slightly before looking at you for more instructions, “I’m gonna start leaning in now, tilt your head a little to the right and meet me halfway. Don’t force it, just let it happen naturally.”

Your best friend nodded as you made sure the very last bits of your feelings for her were locked deep within the deepest reaches of your soul when you suddenly felt her lips meet yours. It was an innocent press of lips against the others before you broke away for the briefest of moments and deepened it. You put the smallest amount of pressure behind your actions as Jihyo quickly adapted and began kissing back harder, your hand against her waist began moving and caressing the exposed skin of her shirt that had ridden up. Before the two of you got carried away with the first lesson, you reluctantly broke the kiss as you stepped a little out of Jihyo’s reach before you dropped your hands back to your sides.

You cleared your throat awkwardly, “That was good. You’re a quick learner to change.” You nodded to yourself as Jihyo looked at you expectantly.

“What about the second lesson?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, “Right, if or when things start heating up between you and…Tzuyu,” You tried not to show any hint of jealousy at the name, “you’ll want to know how to, I guess, make out.”

The dark haired girl nodded, “And that's different how?”

“You use your tongue.” You stated bluntly as you watched Jihyo cringe a little, “It’s not as gross as you might think,” You chuckled as you stepped back into the bobbed haired girl’s personal space and allowed your hands to naturally gravitate to her hips, “We’re gonna start off like we did last time, but this time I’m gonna open my mouth and I want you to let your tongue come out a bit. Don’t shove it into my mouth, that’s gross, just go with the flow.” She looked at you a bit in apprehension before nodding.

“Okay, I’m ready.” You gave her another smile as you took a second to study her face, you had probably done that a thousand times over but you still couldn’t help but admire how gorgeous she was. But you quickly stopped that train from leaving the station as you closed your eyes and began leaning in again.

The press of Jihyo’s lips against yours felt like two puzzle pieces fitting together, her past apprehensions of the first kiss seemed to disappear as she met your lips with confidence, you didn’t do anything other than kiss for a little before you began opening your mouth ever so slightly. You felt the tentative brush of Jihyo’s tongue against your lips as you took it as a sign to make the first move. Your tongue moved to greet hers as they met in a dance, both of you taking turns leading the kiss in whatever way either of you felt was right. As the kiss continued your hands had wandered from her waist to having a hand on her back and another running up and down her side as she crossed her arms behind your neck to pull you in closer.

You could tell the kiss was beginning to get out of hand, but you figured if she didn’t want to stop neither did you. So you both continued the ever growing passionate kiss when you suddenly pulled Jihyo in closer, the unexpectedly possessive action released an accidental moan from the girl you had been making out with. The noise was loud and as plain as day, you both pulled away, startled. Your faces were flushed as you just stared at each other, awkwardness quickly descended upon the silent room.

You couldn’t handle the tension as you cracked under the pressure, “Well, I hope that helped, I’ll see you tomorrow I guess. At least Tzuyu will be getting the best now.” You awkwardly made finger guns at your equally awkward best friend who quickly picked her backpack up and swung it over her shoulders.

“Uh, yeah, thanks Y/N. I’ll let myself out.” Jihyo gave you a shy smile as she left your room.

You waited till you heard the front door close as you groaned loudly, “What the fuck was that!? Oh my god! She moaned, into my mouth, while I was kissing her! Oh my god!” You fell back into your bed as you rolled around in a confusing blend of emotions, “What the fuck are we gonna do tomorrow!? Pretend it never happened?”

—

Evidently, the next two days consisted of not being able to even look at each other or even stand being within the same vicinity as each other, which definitely strained your shared friend group who had no idea what had happened between the two of you.

But you couldn’t help but find the irony of it all so funny, ‘Not gonna be awkward my ass.’

—

Saturday had finally rolled around and you had not spoken to Jihyo in two days, both of you were too nervous to even try to start a conversation with the other. So you sat home alone, a bowl of instant ramen in front of you, binge watching a show you had been meaning to catch up on when you got free time. A distant part of your brain remembered Jihyo had her date with Tzuyu today, but that little box you had trapped your feelings in had been bleeding out ever so slowly since the day you had kissed her.

You knew it was a selfish thing to think, but you silently hoped that the date wouldn’t go well. You had been in love with Jihyo since you guys were twelve. A frown formed on your lips at the thought of Tzuyu having the one person you had truly wanted your whole life. Then a knock at your door startled you out of your self-loathing as you checked the peephole to see Jihyo standing on the other side.

You instantly opened the door for your best friend as you took in her expression, you couldn’t exactly pinpoint the exact feelings but you could tell she was upset. You swallowed the bubble of anxiety in your throat, “Hyo, what happened? What’s wrong?” Your voice was full of concern as your best friend looked almost angry at you.

“It didn’t feel right.” You quirked an eyebrow in confusion as she ran a frustrated hand through her hair, “I kissed her again and again, but it just didn’t feel right.”

Your mouth was slightly agape, “Are you saying Tzuyu’s a bad kisser?”

Jihyo threw her hands up, exacerbated, “No! I’m saying that when I kissed her, the person of my dreams, all I could picture was how much better I felt when I kissed you.”

You could feel your blood run hot as your heartbeat felt like it was beating out of your chest, “What are you trying to say, Ji?” You couldn’t explain what it felt like to stare into the eyes of your secret crush of almost six years as it seemed your world was either about to crumble around you or you were about to be sent to cloud-nine.

“I..I,” Jihyo inhaled as she gathered up all the courage she could muster, “I think I like you, Y/N.” Your heart immediately jumped into your throat and your stomach did somersaults at the admission, an overwhelming wave of emotions took over your entire being as you just stared at your best friend. At your lack of a response Jihyo could slowly feel her heart crack, she thought she had just thrown away the best friendship she had ever had. “Y/N, I’m..I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said anything. That was really stu…”

Before she could finish, you did the one thing that you could think of to stop the racing thoughts of doubt you knew were clouding her mind as you immediately pulled her in by her waist, your guy’s eyes met for a moment before you kissed her. She tensed against you for the briefest of seconds before melting into the kiss as well, her hands going up to cradle your cheek as you poured every ounce of love you had been building up since the day you knew she was the one for you.

When the two of you eventually pulled away for air your eyes remained closed as your foreheads rested against each other’s, your breaths mingling as you both chuckled lightly. You finally opened your eyes to find Jihyo staring back at you, “I like you too, Hyo, I think I’ve been in love with you since the day we met.”

The raven haired girl laughed lightly as she pressed herself closer to you, “I’m sorry it took me so long to realize.”

“Better late than not at all.” You cracked a smile as you squeezed her hip lightly. “Are you still mad at me for a bad first kiss?”

Jihyo rolled her eyes playfully, “You were my first kiss, Y/N, now shut up and kiss me, you idiot.”

You laughed, “Gladly.” Before leaning in to capture her lips again.

#fortwice #twice #twice imagines #twice prompts #twice oneshot #twice fluff #park jihyo #twice jihyo #park jihyo x reader #twiceinadream

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bloodmooncc · 3 years ago

Text

I posted 525 times in 2021

178 posts created (34%)

347 posts reblogged (66%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 1.9 posts.

I added 576 tags in 2021

#reblog - 220 posts

#ask - 86 posts

#tzr - 42 posts

#ts4 - 41 posts

#s4 - 38 posts

#bloodmoon rb - 34 posts

#sims4cc - 29 posts

#wip - 29 posts

#s4cc - 29 posts

#ts4cc - 28 posts

Longest Tag: 134 characters

#i think i'll have to lie to tumblr and say that they misattributed my work or sum shit bc they dont let us report on behalf of otherse

My Top Posts in 2021

Dragula | Eyeliner

Here’s something small I made after returning from vacation #2. This was tricky to make; I had to use blender’s texture paint to get it to look right. Since school is starting again I won’t be posting cc as actively :<

Big gothy winged eyeliner

All ages except for baby

Feminine

Results vary depending on eye shape

4 swatches of black eyeliner (as shown above + an extra where the white waterline is at 50% opacity which I didn’t show bc I added it at the last minute lol)

Custom thumbnail

Disabled for random

DOWNLOAD (dropbox)

Don’t be fooled by the front angle previews. The inner and outer wings are longer than they look ;)

See the full post

1812 notes • Posted 2021-09-04 20:30:55 GMT

❝Enoby❞ Hair

I guess this is my 1000 follower gift? I originally wanted to put this in a pack with a few other items to officially celebrate the milestone but couldn’t bring myself to do that bc im too impatient lol. Anyway thanks everyone <3

Long emo hair named after a goff icon. Oh and 2nd hair from scratch!!

Teen to elder

30 swatches; 18 EA + 12 bonus

Split dye overlay in facepaint (slider compatible) + tattoo categories

Note: for the overlays, the bonus dark brown swatch shows up in the wrong order in CAS and i couldn’t fix it :/ all of the swatches are there and working but just that one shows up in the wrong order

BGC

Hat chops

Tagged as feminine

somehow lower poly than my first shorter hair (7k)

DOWNLOAD (dropbox)

2278 notes • Posted 2021-04-02 19:30:45 GMT

❝Dahlia❞ Preset Pack

Random pack of 3 presets. All are teen to elder, have custom thumbnails, and are disabled for random.

1. Body preset

Mostly changes leg shape, wider set breasts, suits medium to small sized sims.

Female only

2. Jaw preset

Wider jaw with a pointier chin

All genders

3. Lip preset

Bottom heavy with m-shaped upper lip

All genders

DOWNLOAD (dropbox)

3935 notes • Posted 2021-03-12 20:30:55 GMT

Khaos | Makeup Set

Once in a blue moon, I make something that doesn’t involve a mesh.

I love that dirty grungey smudged look so I drew these a few months ago with only black swatches, forgot about it, then came back to make more swatches. This set is focused on dark colors so feel free to recolor idc.

Everything is toddler (go make creepy kids ig) to elder, unisex, disabled for random, and with custom thumbnails.

1. Khaos eyeshadow

Big and dramatic, inspired by Taylor Momsen’s early looks

28 swatches (Top row)

14 plain and 14 shimmery

2. Khaos eyeliner

Filled in corners and a slight outer wing

12 swatches (middle row)

3. Khaos lipstick

Blurred over the lip line, kinda like the lollipop lip trend

14 swatches (bottom row)

DOWNLOAD (dropbox)

Some of the color boxes look the same but they have different undertones i promise

4627 notes • Posted 2021-05-28 20:30:37 GMT

❝Yujin❞ Hair

My first hair mesh completely from scratch! I thought I’d never join the dark side but my curiosity got the best of me.

Short wavy hime cut with bangs that kinda resembles a mullet

Teen to elder

BGC

Hat chops

Feminine, enabled for all genders (however there’s clipping on male sims T_T)

30 swatches; 18 EA + 12 bonus

Egirl strands overlay in facepaint (slider compatible!) and tattoo categories

Inspo

DOWNLOAD (dropbox)

4840 notes • Posted 2021-03-05 20:30:29 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #haha hey things were worse than i thought and i haven't updated my game in months

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reidslibrarybook · 3 years ago

Text

Sexy, Fun, and Relaxing

Couple - Spencer x fem!reader

Warnings - Language, allusions to s3x

Summary - After a long case, all Spencer wants to do is enjoy your company. As he walked into your shared apartment, he’s greeted with a romantic dinner and a sexy, sleeping you.

Category - fluff

Word Count - 1k

A/N - This is a short one. I didn’t really know what I was doing with this but enjoy? :)

masterlist

Join my taglist here!

—————————————-

Spencer was driving in his car, anxious to get home— back to you. He had just gotten back from a case and called you right before they went to apprehend the unsub. Unfortunately, it didn’t go as planned. The unsub, thankfully, didn’t hurt the victim but ended up getting away, so the team was subjected to a wild goose chase that dragged on for a grueling 4 hours. Therefore, delaying his return home.

He hadn’t called you because he was preoccupied with catching the unsub and didn’t have any service on the plane. As soon as he landed he immediately grabbed his phone to text you but you didn’t answer. It wasn’t odd for his message to go unread, especially not this late at night so he didn’t think too much of it.

He parked his car in the parking garage and made his way up the stairs. He opened the door and was met with a soothing aroma of chocolate cake. He looked over and found the dinner table all set up with candles lit around a bouquet of roses. He smiled, he always knew you were too good for him, this was just another case in point.

He looked around the apartment to see steak in the warm oven and a fully decorated chocolate cake in a glass display. He laughed quietly to himself as he found a neatly wrapped present hidden behind the beautifully arranged charcuterie board. He picked it up and flipped it around so he could try and guess what it was. It was hefty and had some weight to it, the cover was embossed with words that he assumed were the title. He ran his finger across the words and realized that you had bought him a bound manuscript— one that he had been looking for since he had committed his mother when he was 18.

It was one of the four original manuscripts of The Canterbury Tales, a book that his mother read to him every night. It must have cost a fortune for you to get your hands on it, he was lucky to have you.

He walked around the living room, finding an abundance of candles and flowers placed cautiously on the coffee table and other flat surfaces. It seemed you had hung fairy lights on the ceiling which gave the apartment a soft, warm hue. He walked towards the coffee table, picking up a bottle of Louis Latour Château Corton Grancey. It was the red wine that the two of you had ordered on your fourth date at a snobby 4 Michelin star restaurant.

He was eager to impress you so he decided on an expensive restaurant in order to gain your favor. When he picked you up and told you where you were going, it seemed as though your face fell a bit. After ordering the bottle of wine, you blurted that you hated pretentious restaurants because their waiters always seemed to be so pompous. He was so glad that you felt the same and a split-second decision later, the two of you were running out of the restaurant, bottle of wine in hand, after he slipped a $100 bill on the table. That moment solidified your relationship, your love for one another.

He set the bottle down and walked over to the bedroom. He carefully turned the knob and pushed the door open. As he looked into the candle-lit room, he saw you passed out on the bed— with your hair and makeup fully done and dressed in a new set of lavender lingerie. You were beautiful, even in your sleep. He could tell you bought the set for him, you knew he loved purple, silk, and intricate lace/floral details.

He sat down on the bed and gently shook you awake, leaning down while whispering in your ear, “Hey bunny, I’m back.”

Your eyes slowly fluttered open as you used your hand to rub your eye. You slowly sat up and that was when you were hit with what was going on, along with what you were wearing.

“OH FUCK! I fell asleep.”

“Y/N, it’s alright. I’m 4 hours late.”

“No no. I knew you were going to be late but I wasn’t supposed to fall asleep.”

“Y/N-”

Your eyes started to water from guilt, “This was supposed to be sexy and fun and relaxing. Instead, you come home to your girlfriend who passed out on our bed.”

You started to sob as he pulled you onto his lap and rocked you. He tried to calm you down by rubbing your bare back as you nestled your head into his neck.

“Y/N, listen to me,” he lifted your chin up with his finger and rubbed his thumb over your cheek as he chuckled softly, “Thank you for doing all of this and trying so hard to make this... sexy, fun, and relaxing, but at the end of the day, all I need to have a good time is you. You are everything to me.”

You smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. You pulled his neck towards you as he enveloped you in a hug.

He pulled your hair away from your face and placed tentative kisses all over your it. “Why don’t we have dinner if you’re up for it, I’m starving.”

You grinned, “Yea, let’s go.” You hopped off his lap and pulled a t-shirt over your lacy lingerie that left little to the imagination.

Spencer’s eyebrows were strewn together, “You’re not gonna take that off?”

“No, I plan on putting it to use later… unless you’re not up for it?” you teased as you leaned onto the door frame.

Spencer smirked as he ran forward and picked you up, placing you over his shoulder. He smiled as he placed you down in the kitchen and pulled you in for a kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck and went on your tippy-toes to reach his lips.

After your kiss, he took your hand and led you over to the dinner table as he pulled the steak out of the oven. He brought plates of food for the both of you as he sat down and seductively made eye contact with you, “Oh I’m definitely up for it.”

—————————————————-

join my taglist here!

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titan-fodder · 4 years ago

Text

Prima Vista Part I

Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 9.7k Warnings: dubious consent (because of alcohol), just copious amounts of sex, oral, squirting, 69ing, college shenanigans, obnoxious frat boys, terrible fashion choices A/N: At long last, here we have the beginning. Massive thanks to @pleasantanathema and @whats-her-quirk who have been cheering for me since I told them I wanted to right a “little college AU” for a “little collab” June and I have been planning for a while. Also, I don’t know where I’d be without Lauren’s fraternity knowledge, so extra thanks for that, babe. I hope everyone has as much fun with this fic as I did.

God, you hate frat boys.

Their sense of entitlement, all their fucking house pride. Brother this, brother that. It's annoying. Add in the factors of being an athlete on top of it, and they're downright insufferable.

So it makes absolutely no sense that you're at a fucking Pi Kappa Alpha party.

Your friend, Hitch, dragged you here (naturally), and it wasn't like you could really object considering she's the only real friend you have on campus. You study together and switch off between dorms to watch movies and bitch about classes. She's the complete opposite of you in many different ways, but you soul-bonded over biology and that was that.

Unfortunately, Hitch decided she would leave you to your own devices almost immediately, opting to skip over to a game of beer pong and flirt with a boy in her statistics class. You have no idea why considering he has a fucking bowl cut, but she's been talking about him for weeks now.

The party is filled with loud music and too many people with red solo cups. There's no way they're all of age, so you're already paranoid that the cops are gonna raid the place, but there's nothing you can do besides leave. It's a tempting thought.

Before you can, though, there's an uproar in the kitchen, and curiosity gets the best of you. Moving from your place against the wall, you make your way over to peek in and see what's going on. A large group of frat boys, what you think are sorority girls, and whoever else wants to join are raising their cups to cheer. An especially loud voice rings out above the rest, "One win down, eleven more to go!"

Claps and supportive shouts are nearly deafening.

"I think we can do it! Do you think we can do it?"

More cheers, more hollers.

"Let's hear it for UC lacrosse!"

You have to cover your ears this time. Should have known this party was to celebrate the win earlier that day.

When the crowd parts, you see the ringleader, Erwin Smith who is very well-known on campus for three reasons: he will talk your ear off about history if given the chance, he's irritatingly gorgeous, and he will fuck any pretty girl with a pulse.

Again—you fucking hate frat boys.

To ease your bad mood and possibly encourage you to have some semblance of a good time, you shuffle further into the kitchen to grab a drink. You feel a little exposed, not dressed like many of the other girls who are either in rompers or the classic sorority chick outfit (giant college shirts that cover their shorts). You are in a crop top, torn shorts, and a floral cardigan. Not your best outfit, not your worst.

There's no way you're touching any of the pre-poured cups or the jungle juice, opting for an unopened can of mediocre beer.

You feel someone approach you from behind, glance over your shoulder to see nothing but a broad chest covered by a fucking hawaiian shirt.

Craning your neck, you're met with another familiar face, one Mike Zacharias known as 1) Erwin's best friend, 2) one of the tallest guys on campus, and 3) the best lacrosse player on the team.

You haven't spoken a single word to him but that doesn't stop him from grinning at you, flipping shaggy hair from his face, and chanting a low, "Shotgun, shotgun, shotgun!"

"Are you god damn joking me?" You ask with a raised eyebrow.

"Hell no!"

"I have shotgunned a beer literally once in my life, and at least half of it ended up on my shirt."

"That's alright," Mike's smile shrinks to a smirk. "We're all about getting chicks wet in Pike."

Face falling, you scoff, "Yeah, okay, I'm leaving."

You sidestep him, cracking open the beer, but he follows close behind you. It makes a little bit of fear spike in your gut—everyone knows the horror stories that accompany many fraternities—but you're mostly just annoyed.

"Hey, what's your name again?"

Again. As if you've actually formally met before.

"Why do you care?"

Mike does not hesitate when he answers, "'Cause you look like you're having a shit time here, and I'd like to change that."

You roll your eyes, let your head loll over your shoulder to look at him again. If you're being honest with yourself, he's kind of extremely hot with his undercut and flippy hair, not to mention the stubble that's grown out just enough to make you think thoughts for a split second.

"A noble cause," you quip. "Truly."

He chuckles, watching too closely as you take a sip of your beer.

"So? Name?"

After too big of a swallow, you answer him, and light green eyes brighten a little.

"Oh, you're Hitch's friend, right?"

Of course that would be your only identifier on campus. Hitch is insanely pretty and very outgoing. It makes sense that people just know you as her tag-along.

It doesn't stop you from feeling slightly offended, though.

"Yeah, and you're Erwin's friend, right?"

"Among other things," he snorts. "Mike Zacharias." He holds out a massive hand that you eye before taking, figure you shouldn't be too much of a bitch and make a bad impression on the most highly regarded frat at the college.

"I know who you are, dude. Not many people don't."

"Aw, flatterer."

That grin is back on his face, lopsided and far too charming, and you definitely need to get away from him before you down a couple more beers.

"Freshman?" He pries, and somehow you wind up at the staircase, leaning against the wall and praying he'll just stand beside you instead of caging you in.

He does, and you let out a breath of relief.

"Sophomore."

His eyebrows shoot up for a second. "Fuck, you've made it through a whole year flying under my radar?"

You give him a wholly unimpressed look. "Wow, you really know what to say to a girl, don't you?"

"That came off as shitty, sorry. I just mean, like, you're super cute. Feel like I would have committed you to memory if I'd seen you."

Your face heats up probably more than it ever has in your life, but you still snap, "We haven't had a single class together, I never go to your games, and this is the first Pike party I've been to."

Mike nods. "Ah, that explains it. Just haven't given anyone a chance to notice you."

"Sure, let's go with that."

Another several sips. You hiss at the taste, and Mike laughs.

"Can't handle beer?"

"Can't handle shitty beer."

"Ouch. Want me to grab you something else?"

He really doesn't seem to understand the warnings all girls have heard over the years. That, or he just doesn't care. You don't know him well enough to pass that kind of judgement.

"Uh, no. I always make my own drinks at parties."

"That's understandable." Except it isn't. He doesn't have a clue.

"Well, you can go grab one, and I'll just finish this one for you. Don't want it to go to waste."

It's your turn to smirk now. "That desperate to swap spit, Zacharias?"

"Like this?" He laughs through his nose. "Nah. But I can think of other ways."

"We've been talking for literally two minutes."

"I'm perfectly capable of making decisions in two minutes."

"Not any good ones obviously."

Tilting his head, Mike thinks out loud, "Can't tell if that's an insult aimed at me or yourself."

"Take it however you want. I don't really care."

His eyes glint with amusement. There's no way you're escaping this any time soon.

Long, thick fingers close around the top of your can, and he gently tugs it out of your hand then keeps those eyes locked with yours as he takes a sip.

"Gross." You try to keep the teasing tone from your voice.

"Just go get another drink."

You actually listen, mostly to get away from him but also because you could go for something easier to stomach.

A game of King's Cup is going on in the kitchen, a five obviously being drawn because everyone suddenly pantomimes holding a steering wheel. It's surprisingly fun to watch, so you post up next to the counter after mixing orange and pineapple juice with rum.

"Four's whores!"

"Categories! Different beers!"

"Seven heaven!"

"Ayyy, waterfall!"

You shake your head as everyone drinks for way too long. Some people are already swaying in circles where they're sitting. Others are simply red-faced.

"Wanna play?"

"Jesus! You came outta nowhere."

Mike looks too smug for your liking, but doesn't say anything, just crushes the empty can in his hand and throws it into the trashcan next to the back door, all gooseneck and perfect arch.

"Let me guess—you're reigning champ at beer pong."

"Nah," he waves you off. "That's Erwin and Nile. King's Cup however…"

"King's Cup isn't even a competition. It's just flipping cards and getting fucked up."

"Well, yeah, but it's still fun."

You let out a heavy sigh, eyes still trained on the game going on, then concede, "Once this one is over, I'll play. Just to get you off my back." And because he won't have the chance to talk to you for the duration of the game.

"Excellent."

You manage to finish your drink by the time the round ends, have to rush to make another as Mike strides over to the table and steals the two seats that have been vacated. They're right across from each other. You don't know if you'd prefer that or just sitting next to him so he can't stare at you.

Sauntering over, you plop down and place your drink in front of you. The guy to your right is quick to introduce himself with hooded eyes and a self-assured smile. You give him basically the same treatment that you've been giving Mike, making him pout and turn away as a freckled girl deals out the cards.

It's fast paced, and you find yourself drinking more than you'd planned. Mike picks you as his buddy (of course), and the guy next to you makes everyone drink for nearly thirty seconds straight when he pulls an ace.

Still, you find yourself laughing as people scream and curse. You catch eyes with Mike often, and as you finish your second drink, he begins looking very attractive. More attractive than before. So attractive that you allow him to pour your third cup.

"If you roofied this, I'm gonna be real upset with you," you tell him just before taking a sip. He added more rum than you did, but that doesn't surprise you.

"Hey, one of Pike's virtues is being a gentleman."

As soon as he says it, about seven people around the table shout, "Pi Kappa Alpha!" like some kind of sports team, and you roll your eyes so hard it hurts.

You're drunk after this game. And, then you make another drink and get plastered. Meandering around the rest of the party, bodies begin to blur together, the music fades in and out, and you barely know what you're saying to Mike anymore as he follows you close behind in the same state. For every drink you've had, he's had two, and now he's walking around with a cup full of jungle juice nodding at his brothers, smiling at all the girls who look at him.

His room is downstairs unlike most of the others, right at the end of the hallway. It makes it far too easy to end up inside, but as soon as the door closes and his huge hands find your hips, your world disappears entirely.

The first thing you feel when you wake up is a nauseating pounding in your head. The second is a very large body behind you.

God dammit, you think, trying to recall the events of the night before.

Pi Kappa Alpha. Hitch left you, so you hung out with… Mike Zacharias? From the lacrosse team?

Frowning, you try to look over your shoulder, but all you can really see is a head of hair. However, you can feel the coarseness of his beard against your bare shoulder, and that's enough to solidify that it is indeed Mike behind you.

Shifting some brings more of your physical state to your attention—your naked chest under the blanket, the way your legs are pressed together, your pussy between your thighs… swollen? Jesus, what did he do to you last night? You can also feel something dry and crusty on your stomach which is both disgusting and relieving. At least he had enough sense to pull out.

Luckily, his arm isn't wrapped around you which makes it much easier to sit up on your elbow. It takes you a while to locate your clothes around the room from where you are, and even then, all you can find are your shorts, shoes, and bra. You peer around, trying not to groan at the headache threatening to make you black the fuck out all over again, but that pounding as well as the nauseating churning of your stomach is making it difficult.

You slide out of the bed, basically crawling to the little pile of discarded clothes. As you fumble with fastening your bra, you glance around one more time in search of your shirt and cardigan, but it’s no use. What you do see, however, is the obnoxious Hawaiian shirt Mike had been wearing the night before, and well… You’d rather not leave the Pike house topless, so…

Snatching it off the floor, you slip your arms through the giant sleeves and somehow manage to button up about half of it. Then, you’re flying out the door, desperate to be in your own dorm, curled over your own toilet, in your own clothes.

Oh, thank god his room wasn’t upstairs, you praise, trying to remember the way to the front door. There are numerous bodies and tipped over cups to navigate through, and you cringe at the various odors that assault your senses.

You see the door from across the room, so close and getting closer as you try not to trip over anything, but as you pass the kitchen, you hear a smooth, familiar voice greet, “Good morning,” in a smug way.

Erwin is leaning against a counter, smirking over a steaming cup of coffee. He’s wearing only sweatpants, his hair is a little mussed, and for a split second, you understand why he pulls so many girls.

Still, you roll your eyes and continue moving—a classic DNE situation, but the frat boy doesn’t seem to get the message, instead calling out, “Nice shirt!”

“Fuck off, Smith,” is the only thing you utter before leaving, slamming the door behind you.

Mike easily catches the frisbee that spins directly at his face then quickly throws it back to try and catch Nile off guard. It works, and the brunet curses and has to go running after the flying disc.

A few girls watching from the nearby fountain clap and yell his name, wriggling fingers in a wave as if he can actually see that far away. Mike gives one wave of his own hand then turns back to the grass where Nile is jogging back to his place.

“You did that on purpose, you asshole!” He spits.

Mike shrugs his shoulders, yells back, “Get better at frisbee, and you won’t have this problem!”

Nile throws the plastic so hard that it flies off toward the fountain, making all those girls scream and dive for cover.

“Yeah, I’m not getting that,” Mike shakes his head. Nile drags his fingers down his angular face before setting off on yet another trek, apologizing profusely then standing around to flirt like usual.

Blowing hair out of his face, Mike considers joining his brother, but before he can, he sees a familiar figure turning on the sidewalk, about to pass the fountain and head toward Hartley Hall.

His feet are moving before he really registers it, glad his long legs can carry him quickly even at a walk. Mike calls out when he’s a couple yards away, and you turn to him, eyes growing wide before you start to move faster.

He can just barely make out the words, “Nope. Not doing this,” and chuckles, catching up the rest of the way.

“Hey, chill, I just wanna talk.”

You turn to look at him, head tilted up, squinting against the sun, and Mike has never been more thankful for his height because you look so god damn cute all small and irritated with him.

“What is there to talk about? I don’t even remember anything.”

“Yeah, neither do I,” he says, lacing fingers together behind his head. “Shame.”

“Whatever.”

Mike tries and fails to hide a snort, nods at Nile as you both pass him and the gaggle of girls surrounding him. Mike has no doubt his friend will get at least one phone number out of it, if not all of them.

“Did you at least have a good time before you blacked out?” He ventures.

You shrug your shoulders, hitch your backpack up a little higher. “Maybe. But, if I was just around you the whole time, probably not.”

“Aw, come on! What did I ever do to you?”

“You need a list?”

Mike nods. “Would probably help.”

“For brevity's sake, I’ll just say that you started the night trying to get a literal stranger to shotgun a beer and ended the night fucking said stranger and… Not holding back, apparently.” Mike frowns, about to ask what you mean by that, but you elaborate before he can. Voice dropping, you question, “Do you have any idea how fucking sore I’ve been for the last few days? What the fuck do you even have hidden in those stupid shorts?”

“I’d be happy to show you again.” He grins sideways, and when you shoot him a venomous look, he figures it’s time to change the subject. “Anyway, I may have done that and more, but you’re the thief.”

“Excuse me?”

Mike tries to sound nonchalant as he accuses, “Stole my shirt and everything." Honestly, he's a little upset that he didn’t actually get to see you wearing it.

“I—”

“That’s my favorite shirt, you know?”

You laugh. Finally. “Are you serious?”

“Absolutely.”

“That shirt is fucking heinous, okay? You’re lucky I didn’t burn it.”

“Does that mean I can have it back?”

You make a little noise in your throat, something between a grumble and a growl, but you check your phone and tell him, “Fine. My next class isn’t for another couple of hours, so just…Follow me.”

It takes immense effort to not skip to your dorm like a little kid, but Mike is excited. He’s not gonna try anything weird, but just seeing your space? He’ll be able to get a better feel for you. So far, all he knows is that you live and breathe sarcasm and can’t handle your liquor well. It’s enough to get him a little more than interested, but it’s not enough to go off of.

The two of you gain a few looks as you make your way through the shared study space of the dormitory, heads turning, eyebrows raising in recognition. No one should be all that surprised; it’s not like Mike and Erwin haven’t frequented a lot of these rooms.

You lead him down a hallway, and Mike looks at all the little dry-erase intro boards hanging outside of every door. He’s a little surprised to see that the one by yours isn’t blank. Your name is written in bubble letters, surrounded by little hearts, and when you catch him looking at it, you’re quick to tell him, “Hitch.”

“Ah. Of course.”

He follows you inside, staying by the door to not invade too much of your space, but he doesn’t even try to be subtle as he looks around the small room. Pennant for the college hung up over a cork bulletin board that’s a mess of photos and sticky notes. Cluttered desk with just enough of it cleared to fit a laptop. Tiny succulents on the window sill. Double bed covered in a quilt. And there, in the open closet, Mike catches sight of his shirt—pastel pink and littered with palm trees.

After dropping your backpack on your bed, you step over to the hanging clothes and grab it, muttering, “Ridiculous,” as you hand it over.

Mike laughs as he slings it over his shoulder. “You know what’ll make you hate it even more?” You quirk an eyebrow, probably doubting that anything could, but your entire face falls when he informs you, “I have matching shorts to go with it.”

“No you do not.”

“Definitely do.”

“That should be a crime. You should be arrested.”

He chuckles, has a retort on the tip of his tongue, but something catches his eye—a bookshelf tucked away in the corner by your bed overflowing with novels and knick-knacks. Mike sees a particularly thick paperback, recognizing the black background and small desert picture on the spine.

“Bro!” He walks over, plants a hand in the middle of your mattress, and reaches for it. “Is this fucking Dune?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“This is, like, my favorite book, dude.”

“Seriously?” You sound just as disbelieving as you do disinterested.

Mike begins flipping through it, scanning over highlighted passages as he nods. “I have the whole series back home, but I only brought this one and Messiah with me to college.”

He straightens up but keeps a knee on the edge of the bed, and you plop down to sit on it, watching him closely as he continues to look over the notes scribbled in the margins.

“I had to read it in high school," you tell him. "Then my cousin gave me a lot of the books after I talked with him about it one time. I haven’t gotten around to reading them, though.”

“You really should,” Mike urges. “I mean, I know you probably have a shit ton of reading for classes, but if you ever get the chance, you should at least read the next two.”

“You some kind of closet nerd, Zacharias?”

“Kinda,” he admits, putting the book back on the shelf only to grab a worn copy of Fellowship of the Ring. “I mean, Erwin and a few others are well aware, but I don’t really broadcast it.”

“Not good for the cool guy image?”

“Nah, people are just more interested in other things,” he mumbles, eyes fixed on the tiny print.

“Mike Zacharias,” his gaze flicks to you as you laugh quietly. “Lacrosse god and big fucking geek.”

He closes the book and uses it to lightly hit you on the top of the head with it. You half-heartedly smack him right in his abs only to push against the muscle harder and ask, “Jesus Christ, what do you have under there?”

“You know, that’s the second time you’ve asked what I have under my clothes,” he points out, a little too satisfied. “Better watch out, or I’m gonna start getting ideas.”

You huff, but your hand is definitely still on his stomach, unmoving but warm through his shirt. Mike told himself he wouldn’t do anything weird once he got here, but you’re already on the bed and touching him, and he’d kind of really like to have this particular experience while sober, so he very slowly takes your wrist and moves it away.

It makes you look up at him, a question dancing in your eyes as your lips part. Mike makes sure his own stare conveys everything he’s thinking, wishes he could just transplant his thoughts into your brain so that he can put you a little more at ease around him.

You’re onto him, though, tugging your hand from his grip and blinking a few times. He figures you’re about to point to the door and tell him to take his fucking Hawaiian shirt and leave.

Instead, you pull on the fabric covering his ribs so that he loses his balance and has to catch himself before crashing into you. It puts his face level with yours, and you take the opportunity to kiss him—hard, desperate, and a little confused judging by the way you’re frowning.

Mike grunts, holding himself up with the arm on the side of your hips then uses the other to slide under the thigh closest to him and pull you further onto the bed. He’s straddling you in no time, up on his knees so that he doesn’t crush you.

Hearing the sound of shoes hitting the ground, he tugs his shirt off over his head, and then he’s curling over you again. Your mouths grow slick with spit. He slides his tongue past your lips, and you arch into him, fingers tangling in his hair. Mike pushes you back down so that he can strip you down to your bra and panties then takes the time to rid himself of his shoes and shorts.

“Oh, fuck,” he hears you breathe, and when he glances up at you, he finds you staring at what he knows is an intimidatingly large bulge under his boxer briefs. “It makes sense now—the soreness.”

Mike chuckles, slots his forearms on either side of your head and mutters, “Yeah, sorry about that.”

You lick his lips and he bites yours, bodies clashing together as he grinds himself against your covered pussy. Eventually Mike is able to snake a hand down your body, making sure to brush over your ribs so that you squirm beneath him. Fuck, he already loves the way you squirm. And, when he moves your panties to the side and teases your little hole, already wet just from making out, Mike discovers that he loves the way you moan too.

He’s slow as he pushes a finger in, groaning when you clench around it. Pumping it in and out, he gently works you open and wonders if he was courteous enough to do this the other night. He hopes he was.

You spread your legs for him, start bucking into his hand, especially when he hits that special spot inside you.

“Fuck, fuck, fu—” You grab his face, bringing it close to yours again so that you can muffle curses against his lips.

When Mike adds a second finger, your jaw drops, and you start to tremble.

“Too much?” He asks.

You shake your head, stutter a breathy, “N-no. Just—ah—slow. Go slow.”

He moves to suck on your neck, promising, “I will.”

Mike waits until you’re dripping into his palm and spread about as widely as you can be underneath him. Then, and only then does he shimmy out of his underwear and question, “Condom?”

“Bookshelf,” you huff. “In the jewelry box.”

When he opens it, a little ballerina spins, and Mike has to laugh at the ridiculousness of it. “That’s twisted.”

“Shut up.”

He grabs one of the gold packages and tears it open, then rolls the latex over his cock and discards the wrapper somewhere.

Mike only gives you his tip first, sits right inside your entrance so that you can squeeze him and get used to the feeling before he pushes in any more. You barely shift your hips back and forth, like an experiment. It’s just enough for Mike to see slick coating the end of the condom, and he nearly starts drooling.

He presses in a little more, appreciates the way your eyes roll into the back of your head, then adds one more inch.

“Jesus Christ.” Your breaths are coming in short gasps, words slurring together. He’s not even halfway in, and you’re already fucked out.

Your cunt is spasming around him, and Mike tries to get you to relax more by lightly rubbing your clit with the pad of his thumb.

You leak around him, pussy slowly but surely opening up a little more so that he can slide in further. He gives a few shallow thrusts that make you whine, then reaches up to grab one of your pillows which only sends him deeper.

“God dam—”

Mike lifts you and shoves the pillow under your hips, smiles in a way he’s pretty sure you hate, then jokes, “Better to fuck you with, my dear.”

“In...sufferable…” The annoyed tone is lost when you cry out. Mike buries himself as far as he can without hurting you. He isn’t quite balls deep, but you feel so fucking good that he doesn’t even mind.

Starting a steady rhythm that has every upthrust dragging over your g-spot, Mike watches through foggy eyes as your mouth opens and closes, chest rising with stuttering breaths before you exhale and moan. He dips his thumb between your folds to gather a little bit of slick and return it to your clit. The circular motion makes you arch again, and Mike abandons the little bud for just a moment so that he can unclasp your bra and pull it off. The sight of your tits bouncing in time with his thrusts almost does him in, but he holds back, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to gather himself.

You’re just clamping around him so perfectly, pussy drooling and creaming on his cock, and Mike is not a quickshot, but for you—

He pulls out all at once, flips you so that you’re on hands and knees, then spreads you open to lick into you from behind.

“Holy—”

Mike’s cock is throbbing where it bobs against his stomach, but he can ignore it for the most part, focused on eating you out, sucking at your messy lips then dragging the flat of his tongue over your hole. He moves his face back and forth, wants to leave his mark on you in the form of stubble burn between your legs.

“Mike, Mike, fuck, please.”

He’s positive you can’t actually hear him when he teases, “Please what?” right into the crevice of your ass.

You growl, push against him, and swallow enough pride to beg, “Please fuck me.”

Biting his lip, Mike straightens up enough to watch his fingers disappear into your pussy. One, two, then a third that makes your messy entrance stretch for him. He lowers his face again, feather light licks around your sensitive hole, and when he twists his wrist so that he can tap on your spot, you come immediately.

A mixture of slick and squirt drips from your cunt and soaks into your quilt. Mike pushes more out as he continues to finger fuck you, humming at the way your arms give out and you fall against the mattress.

This is the perfect position for him. He replaces his wet fingers with his cock and ruts into you quickly, chasing after his own impending orgasm. Pretty little whimpers fall from your lips, fuck drunk as you babble, “Oh, god, Mike, Mike, fuck…”

He’s gripping your hips too tightly, pulling you back against him, shoving his cock deeper and deeper until he finally comes with a shudder and a low groan.

Mike pants for a few seconds, then leans down to press a few kisses to your spine, but instead of the usual happy sighs he gets from most girls, you just roll your shoulders and mutter, “Stop that.”

He does, then pulls out, takes a second to stare at your pussy—worked open from his size and still dripping. It would make a very pretty picture, but Mike wouldn’t dare try that with you.

You roll onto your back, a huff of air leaving your lungs as you scrub a hand over your face then tilt your head to him. It looks like you have something to say, but you just chew on your bottom lip, eyes moving from Mike to the door.

And, he can take a hint. You don’t have to say it.

With a self-deprecating snort, he pulls the condom off, tying it then tossing it into the trashcan by your bed.

“Yeah, okay,” he nods. “Let me just…” Mike tugs his clothes back on, kindly tosses you your top so that you can cover yourself like you obviously want to.

He makes sure to grab the Hawaiian shirt that brought him here in the first place, tossing it over his shoulder then striding to the door.

Chancing one more glance at you, you force a smile and try to pad his bruised ego. “Don’t worry, it was good. You were good. It’s just not gonna happen again.”

Mike fights a smirk, raises a hand in a wave, then steps out.

Not gonna happen again, he chuckles to himself. Yeah, right.

You don't understand how this keeps happening, how you keep ending up in bed with Mike fucking Zacharias.

This time you had gone to the disgusting bar right off campus, got one whole drink in your system before the familiar trio walked in. They were all in khakis and pastels—Erwin in blue, Nile in yellow, Mike in pink. Again.

You actually slammed your head down on the bartop because despite how basic he looked in his light polo, Mike was still hot.

Is still hot.

Back at the Pi Kappa Alpha house, you're a mess of limbs on his bed. You take immense pleasure in tugging his shirt off, and once his arms are free again, he's lifting the hem of your little skirt and mouthing over your thong.

You're more than tipsy after a couple more drinks but nowhere near as drunk as you were the first night. It hadn't taken much convincing from Erwin for you and Hitch to play pool with them, and when Mike had come up behind you to help you line up your shot, you knew you were a goner.

While he's busy between your legs, you take off your shirt and bra. Green eyes flick up as soon as you toss both articles on to the floor, and without any hesitation, Mike reaches up to grope your tits.

He's clumsy and distracted as he tongues over the warmth pooling in your underwear, squeezing plump flesh and pinching your nipple so that you whine and push your hips further into his face.

Mike groans, just as drunk if not more so. He's messy as he kisses your thighs, nearly rips your thong when he pulls it off of you.

His tongue feels good, too fucking good as he laves over your entrance, soothing an ache that isn't quite there anymore but definitely was a few days ago.

"Taste so fucking good," he grumbles, slurping and sucking and making you squeeze your thighs around his head.

"Okay," you pant. "Okay, okay." You grab him by the hair and lift his head from you, stomach flipping at the sight of the bottom half of his face absolutely covered in slick.

God dammit, why is he so sexy?

Your mouth waters, and the thought of possibly giving him head this time crosses your mind. You're just inebriated enough to stay relaxed, didn't drink to the point of throwing up, and he has gone down on you the last two times so...

Lizard brain taking over, you sit up, tell him to flip over, then start making your way down his body.

Mike grabs you before you can turn to face him, fingers digging into your thighs and pulling you down to sit on his face.

"Fucking—I'm trying to blow you, for Christ's sake."

He moves his head just enough to tell you, "So? You can do that while I do this."

And, he's not wrong. It just means that you're gonna get distracted.

For a while, all you can really do is control your breathing and undulate on top of him, but eventually you fall to your elbows and lick up his shaft from base to tip.

Mike really does have a nice cock—a beautiful cock—bigger than you've ever taken in terms of both length and girth, and veiny in the perfect way. Even his balls make your pussy throb, large and round, the right just slightly bigger than the left and now dripping with saliva as you lower your mouth further and further onto his cock.

The feeling of his tongue buried in your cunt is making you delirious, eyes rolling, muscles going slack as you gurgle around the tip hitting the back of your throat.

Mike groans into you, his legs starting to shake, and you assume in your half aware state that he's trying to not just skull fuck you into oblivion.

You know you're making a mess, both on his face and on his cock. The fingertips that have been holding you open shift, one of them slipping into your clenching hole, and your hips begin to move on their own volition, riding what he'll give you while moving your tongue back and forth.

You've only taken about half of him, doubt you can take any more. He's hot and heavy in your mouth, and when you pull off to breathe, you can taste pre cum on the back of your tongue.

It triggers something in you, makes you raise up and clumsily turn around so that you can work him inside of you.

Mike groans a long, "Fuuuck," and immediately starts thrusting upward.

You're lucky you're as wet as you are, but the burn that comes with getting so stretched out still makes you hiss. You brace yourself on his broad chest, feeling the dampness of sweat forming a sheen on him, and your own body starts to feel too hot.

You had wanted to ride him to feel in control of the situation for once, but you quickly realize it's not gonna happen, Mike gripping your hips and moving you how he sees fit.

He's raw this time, a thought that should scare you, but he feels so good even through the discomfort. Every vein and ridge hits all the sweet spots inside of you, the flared head of his cock smooth as it presses just where you need it to.

You're squirting again—he just seems to be able to fuck it out of you. It's not the high you're looking for, but the release in pressure still feels divine.

Mike seems to enjoy it too because he looks down at where you're connected, swears at the way you gush on his cock, then starts swiping fingers over your clit so quickly it almost hurts.

More fluid leaks from you, and Mike breathes a low, "Come on, baby, come on, 'm gonna fuck you dry tonight."

Hearing him talk like that—his hand rubbing over your overstimulated clit, his thick cock threatening to split you in two—causes heat to travel up your legs and down your arms until it settles in your stomach and floods you.

You cry out, stars and tears behind your eyes as Mike keeps going, taking everything he can from you until he's laying in a huge wet spot in his bed.

He lifts you just in time to shoot cum upward on your chest, white splattering then dripping down in strands to pool on his stomach.

You stare down at him, mouth hanging open and find him looking up at you with the same expression.

It's hands down the best sex you've ever had, but you're not about to tell him that. Instead, you dismount him like the fucking horse he is and stand on weak legs, actually have to lean on the bed for support.

"Just stay the night." His voice is deep and full of gravel. It's entirely too hot.

"Absolutely not." You shake your head, grab your shirt and his boxers then ask, "Where's the nearest bathroom?"

"Down the hall on the right, but you don't have to sneak out the window or anything. Just use the front door if you're tryin’ to run away."

You can't help but snort. Stupid. "I'm not trying to escape, dummy. I just need to pee."

"Oh. Right."

You slip out of the room, hoping it's late enough for everyone to be asleep, but you have no such luck as the door to the bathroom opens and fucking Erwin steps out.

He hums, looking you over for a moment as his lips lift on one side.

"Don't say anything," you grit through your teeth.

He holds his hands up in surrender, chuckles, acting all innocent. "Wasn't going to."

You squint, not believing him for a second, then move around him to get to the bathroom. Before you can shut the door, you hear him mutter, "Another one bites the dust," and consider running out and strangling him.

"Please please please come with me to this game," Hitch begs, her hands clasped together, imploring eyes wide and doe-like.

"No. You have plenty of other friends to go with. You don't need me there."

"But, I want you to be there. It's gonna be such a good match. Rival schools and all that."

You roll your eyes. "Hitch, in all the time you've known me, have you ever seen me give a single fuck about sports?"

"No, but you'll finally get to see Mike and Erwin and Nile play."

"All the more reason not to go."

"Do you not like them or something? Why wouldn't you like them? Everybody likes them!"

She doesn't know, and you don't want her to. She had been too caught up with that Marlowe kid at the party, then was kept busy playing pool with Nile to see you and Mike slip out of the bar together.

It's the only secret you've ever wanted to keep from her. You will take it to the grave.

"I just… I just don't, okay? I get a… Sleazy vibe from all of them."

You really don't. Not exactly. You're not a big fan of the 'fuck-every-chick-on-capus' mentality, but most college boys think like that. Only difference is these three can actually achieve it.

Hitch crosses her arms over her chest and gives you a look you've seen on your mother's face many times, usually when she has a point to prove.

"You know I'm just gonna keep bothering you until you come to one, so why not just get it outta the way?"

And, there's that point.

"Ugh." You know she's right, and you really can't put up with this all semester. "Fine, but I'm gonna bitch the entire time."

Hitch squeals and claps, bouncing where she stands. "Yes! Wouldn't have it any other way."

You dress in school colors, put your hair up so that it won't be on your neck as the sun beats down, then take Hitch's little hatchback to the field. You try to talk her into sitting toward the back of the crowd that's gathered on the bleachers, but she just pulls you to the front without acknowledging your request.

Even with the helmets, you can easily make out who's who, mostly because of their size. Mike and Erwin are doing some kind of pregame ritual where they hit their sticks together, shout something, and chest bump. It's the most alpha thing you've ever fucking seen and makes you question why you ever thought screwing one of them was a good idea.

To be fair, you never really did think it was a good idea. It just kind of happened. Three times.

But, it needs to stop.

You repeat that thought to yourself as you watch Mike sprint across the field and launch the ball into the goal several times. You repeat it as he dances around his opponents with ease, quick footwork until he can throw them off. You repeat it as he stands on the sidelines and takes his helmet off to shake out sweaty hair and squirt water into his mouth.

And, none of it really helps. Mike is pretty incredible on the field, especially with Erwin and Nile backing him up. Everyone in the stands is screaming, yelling their names and chanting. It's a little contagious, you have to admit. You get as far as clapping but refuse to actually cheer.

At some point, Erwin jogs over to the bleachers and waves his arms for everyone to get louder, and they sure do. Even through his helmet, you can see his sparkling white smile, and your own lips curl up as you shake your head at him. Unbelievable. He has all these people at his beck and call.

Erwin has to get back on the field, though, fueled by the crowd like the other nine players. They end up pulling ahead of the other team and finishing the game eleven to seven.

Naturally, Erwin announces a party at the Pike house, and naturally, Hitch drags you to it.

This one is even bigger than the last. It offends every one of your senses—too loud, alcohol permeating the air, bad drinks, worse dancing, and strangers rubbing against you as you pass them.

You give up on your beer before you’re even halfway through with it, just set the can on one of the counters and start milling around. You’d rather be anywhere else but here. Your head hurts from the game earlier, baking in the sun and not drinking enough water. Should’ve taken an Advil… And some Benadryl. Hitch wouldn’t have been able to bring you here if you’d been unconscious.

All of the lacrosse team is there, flanked with guys who won’t stop slapping them on their backs and girls who won’t stop batting their eyes and squeezing their biceps. It’s comical, really, the fairweather trend. There’s no way this would be happening if they’d lost their last three games. Instead, the team would be getting harassed and pestered, not so subtle comments about practicing more and replacing members. You’ve seen it all before.

Leaning against a wall, you watch it all unfold. It’s probably the most entertaining thing at the party other than the group of sorority girls dancing on a table. Things are getting out of hand already, and you would prefer not be here for the aftermath, but just as you're about to leave, Mike breaks away from the group and strides over to you.

“Hey, didn’t expect to see you.” He takes a sip from his cup, smiling around the rim.

You use your usual excuse: “Hitch,” and he nods.

“Right. Did you watch the game today?”

Crossing your arms, you mumble a, “Yes,” that Mike can’t hear but can definitely see.

He beams then asks, “You gonna tell me I played well? ‘Cause I did.” He’s all cocksure and giddy, and it makes your body run hot in a few different ways.

“I don’t think you need anyone else fawning over you,” you say with a condescending laugh.

“You mean you don’t want me to flex for you?”

“I’m leaving. Right now." When you push past him a little too roughly, it causes him to drop his cup, and your shirt is suddenly plastered to your chest and stomach. The white isn’t discolored, which leads you to believe, “Fuck, is this just straight vodka?”

“No, Christ,” he cringes at your wet state, looking genuinely apologetic. “It’s just water. Sorry.”

You scrunch your top up to wring it out, wondering what he’s doing drinking water instead of liquor, but you’re not about to pick on him for staying hydrated.

“It’s fine. I was about to leave anyway.”

He’s quick to stop you with a, “No, don’t. Just… change into one of my shirts or something."

Narrowing your eyes, you contemplate how many ways this can go wrong, how much you should not allow this, and even go as far as accusing, "You're just trying to get me in your room again."

"You wanna stay in a wet shirt?" Not really. "Come on."

He jerks his head toward the hallway, and you end up following him, grumbling the whole time because you swear to God if you end up on your back for him again, you're going to be very upset with yourself.

Mike beelines it for his dresser as soon as you're in the room, much quieter than the rager outside. He digs around in it, flipping all the way to the bottom then pulls out a heather gray tee.

"It'll probably still be a little big, but it's from high school, so you shouldn't drown in it."

He tosses it to you then, to your surprise, turns back to the wall to give you the privacy to change. You eye him the whole time, peeling off your top as well as your bra since it soaked through. His shirt still covers your little shorts, and you assume you look a lot like one of those sorority girls, but it's good enough, has that super soft feeling from being worn too much.

"Thanks. You can, uh… You can turn around now."

Mike looks over his shoulder, like he's making sure you're decent, then turns around fully.

"I was trying to get outta there anyway. Spilling a drink on you was a good excuse."

You open your mouth, choking on a scoff, then ask, "Did you do that on purpose?"

"No! It really was an accident. I'm glad it was just water, but I still feel bad."

You're squinting at him, but now you're curious about something else.

"Why'd you wanna get away from the party?"

Sighing, Mike shows a tired smile. "Honestly, I'm still worn out from the game. I'm already sore and covered in these god damn bruises. I just wanna relax."

"If you're covered in bruises, I can't imagine how the other team feels. You smacked the shit outta some of 'em."

"So, you were watching."

"I may have glanced up once or twice," you lie. "Anyway, why don't you just hide out in here?"

He shrugs his shoulders. "Erwin insisted I show my face, and I didn't want him to give me shit about being a recluse."

You can relate. It's why Hitch drags you everywhere. You wouldn't even leave your dorm for classes if you didn't have to.

Still. "Dude. You're definitely not a recluse. You're fucking everywhere. All the time."

"So? I can get tired too."

He's got a point.

"Can we just chill in here for a while?" He asks you.

"Why do you need me to chill? You basically just said you needed a break from social interaction."

"Yeah, but not all social interaction," he corrects with a small grin. "Please? I've got movies and video games, Zelda and shit."

Again, the contemplation kicks in, all the pros and cons. You know very well what this can (will) lead to, but you also want to escape the party. And, if Hitch whines about you leaving, you can tell her you were there the whole time. Not like it's a lie.

"Fine, but I have some stipulations."

"Oh, do you?"

"I do."

Mike waves a hand for you to go on. "Let's hear 'em then."

Holding up one finger, you tell him, "You have to let me snoop around your room—" he laughs. You lift another finger, "—and we are not, under any circumstances, having sex."

"Deal."

You tilt your head, taken aback at how quick he is to agree. "Wait, seriously?"

"Seriously. Go ahead. I'll pull up Hulu."

You hum, still suspicious, but start making your rounds, taking in photos from what you assume to be the high school soccer team he played on, then a fishing trip with Erwin, a middle-aged couple with a dog, and some pinned up tickets to sporting events he's attended.

He has a bookshelf against a wall, textbooks at eye level, but the top and bottom shelves are filled with sci-fi and fantasy novels that make you smile. His TV is fairly large, big enough to see the picture from his bed which is also sizable and draped with a plush comforter. The last thing that catches your eye is his closet, halfway open and full of jerseys and Polos. A few different pairs of shoes sit at the bottom, but pushed all the way in the corner are a few boxes of fucking Magic the Gathering cards.

"Oh, man. You really are a closet nerd. Like, literally."

"Huh?" Mike looks over at where you're kneeling, realizes what you're looking at and actually sounds self-conscious when he admits, "Yeah, uh, I wasn't joking the other day."

"I've never played—too technical for me—but my friends in high school did."

"There are baseball cards back there too if that makes me any cooler."

"It doesn't," you say bluntly before straightening up and reaching to shut the door to his room. Plopping down on the floor next to him (where he was smart enough to sit), you add, "But even I can admit it's kind of endearing."

"Oh yeah?" He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, that stupid lopsided grin on his too-handsome face.

"Don't get cocky, Zacharias."

"You wouldn't let me if I wanted to."

Both of you agree to a Batman movie, and you make yourself comfortable, kicking your sandals off and leaning against the bed behind you. You're a little too aware of Mike's body beside yours, but you're able to ignore it for the most part, keeping a few inches between your arms and legs. Of course, he still brushes against you when the movie ends and he takes the time to stretch. His shoulders roll, making his shirt strain over his back, and when he holds his arms out, linked at his fingers, you can't help but take a quick look at his bulging biceps.

"Fuck, I'm gonna feel like garbage tomorrow," he complains. You can see the bruises littering his arms, some of them thick lines while others are almost perfectly circular from where he was hit with the end of a lacrosse stick.

"You have any classes?" You ask.

"Just my ten o'clock and three o'clock."

You make a noise of acknowledgement then fall silent. You're not sure how to hold a conversation with him that isn't sarcastic or snippy since you haven't actually done a lot of talking in the first place.

"Sucks," is all you can come up with.

"It's alright. I've probably dealt with worse."

"Probably?"

"Well, nothing really comes to mind, but I'm sure I have."

You should get going. It's late, and you have a nine AM tomorrow. Plus, the longer you sit next to Mike, the more ideas pop up in your head. Dirty ideas. Ideas that will leave you disappointed in yourself.

"Well, I'm gonna head back. This has been…" You're unsure of what word to use, don't want to get his hopes up by saying 'fun'.

Mike figures you out and offers, "Tolerable?"

"Yeah, we can go with that. I'll get your shirt back to you sometime soon."

Mike chuckles and gets to his feet. "Just whenever you can." He grabs your wet top from the ground and holds it out to you, then reaches for the door as you slip on your sandals.

You feel him close behind you, close enough for his chest to push against your back when you straighten up. His arm is pressing into your side, hand curled around the knob and twisting it, but he's unable to open the door as you let your head fall against it.

"God dammit."

"Hm?" You can tell he's leaning down because his breath falls just over your ear.

"I said we weren't—"

He cuts you off, "But, you want to."

He's too hot and too smooth, and you can’t stop yourself from turning around and breathing, "Yeah, I want to."

It's different tonight. Mike takes his time undressing you, kissing and sucking your neck, your collarbone, your nipples that pebble against his tongue. It's unnerving even as you squirm and moan.

He eats you out lazily, flattening his tongue against your folds then dipping into your slit so that he can slip into your twitching hole.

When he adds a finger, you immediately grind down on it, silently begging him to work you open enough to take his cock, but he doesn't move any faster, apparently content to just drive you insane.

You're nearly begging by the time he turns you on your side and moves to lay behind you, hiking your leg up and pushing most of his length inside of you in one faultless motion that makes you choke and sob his name.

That stretch is back, delicious as it is painful as he splits you open. His thrusts are the same slow pace, cock dragging against gummy walls as he drapes an arm over you to toy with your swollen clit.

It takes you both longer than usual to come, but when you do, your whole body trembles against him, and you have to suck in several deep breaths until you feel like your lungs start actually filling with air.

Mike paints your back with warm cum, groaning right in your ear as he rubs against you, his cock sliding easily up and down your skin and making more of a mess.

That unnerving feeling blooms in your chest again, crawls up into your throat.

Tonight had been too casual, too natural. The way you hung out and watched a movie was already a little strange. Him fucking you from behind, holding you tight against his body, was too tender. And, now, after he leaves to grab a wet towel and uses it to clean your back, you find yourself searching for words again only to come up with passionate—intimate.

And, words like that scare you.

[ n e x t ]

#miche zacharias x reader #mike zacharias x reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #aot fanfiction #attack on titan fanfiction #mels prima vista #mels frat house

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eatyourchancletas · 3 years ago

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SUMMARY | y/n l/n; the trauma surgeon who was in the wrong place at the wrong time and is taken hostage by the terrifying mafia known as ateez. despite their situations, love arises between the doctor and san; but when an enemy comes in between the group, breaking trust and belief between the members, what will san choose to save; his newfound love or his brothers?

PAIRING | choi san x male reader

INFO/CATEGORY | mafia au, fluff, light angst

WARNINGS | violence, weapon usage/mention, foul language, lower case writing

[chapter index] [playlist] [previous chapter]

AUTHOR’S NOTE | we’re back! sorry for the long break, hopefully we can get into the flow of things! monnie’s already started chapter 5 off amazingly too :p written by both of us this time (mainly edited by monnie)! please leave feedback, like, reblog, whatever you can to let us know whether you enjoyed it or not! (re-edited because dongwoo and changsik were switched up)

WORD COUNT | 2.4k

TAG LIST :; @jonghoshoe if you’d like to be added to the list please say so in our inbox/ask box!

y/n was usually called outstanding, hard-working, smart. but in reality, he was an idiot when he was outside the workforce.

being a workaholic meant showing your skills, growing them, improving them, and practicing them constantly. sometimes it seemed to be all he knew— it’s what all the people around him saw.

yet again, outside of it he’s quite a gullible man; which brings him to his current situation…

“looking for something?”

he looked away from the bandages he was previously examining to come face to face with a man that looked around his age. “not really, just restocking my clinic. or—trying to find things to restock it with.” the man nods, glancing around suspiciously, although y/n didn’t didn’t seem to take notice of this particular action.

“this pharmacy is pretty small, but it has lots of good supplies… lots of hidden gems. want me to show you where i get my tools?”

“oh,” y/n blinked in surprise, “you’re in the medical field?”

the man made eye contact with him, managing a convincing smile. “yeah, there’s a clinic down the road from here, about fifteen minutes by foot, this is the nearest pharmacy, so we stock up from here most of the time. i work there as an assistant.”

y/n nodded, amusement sparkling in his eyes. “wow, then please! show me what you suggest.”

at the approval, the man nodded, “name’s changsik, by the way. what do you work as? i’m assuming you’re also in the medical field.”

they walked along the aisle of the cough syrups, ointments, and the few other medicines to turn and make their way to the exit door. y/n furrowed his brows, about to ask why they were exiting until changsik made another turn, walking towards the staff room.

“your assumption is correct, i’m a surgeon…” he replied belatedly, trailing off as he stepped foot inside the room. his eyes trailed on the shelves full of unopened boxes, more prescription pills, and—bingo! the supplies he’d written down on his list.

for a split second, the memory of san handing it to him flashes across his mind, blinking it away as he turned to changsik. “wait, how are you able to access this?”

“i’m a regular.” he glanced across at him, looking past the window. “and also the perks of having a pharmaceutical license,” a hefty laugh left his mouth, “took some convincing though.”

“huh,” y/n squatted down, inspecting a box that was on the floor, “i guess that makes sense.”

“just put what you need in a box and take it out. i’ll just say you’re helping me take it back.” changsik smiled, watching y/n nod and do so.

after a few minutes, y/n finished and announced he was ready to check out. changsik’s eyes met one of the cctv cameras before settling on y/n.

“alright, let’s go check out.”

as they walked toward the front, they reached the hallway that led to the exit. just as y/n was going to walk past, toward the checkout counter, a hand forcefully grabbed him by the shoulder and pulled him back. he looked behind him, in a startled manner, thinking changsik had just forgotten something. however, a deeper fear struck when changsik’s hand moved to clench at the back of his collar.

“don’t make a sound.”

the second the cold blade touched the skin of y/n’s neck, the surgeon knew to stay quiet. there was a burning in his throat as he struggled to swallow, scared to trigger any abrupt movement. his frantic mind jumbled about, words of scolding placed toward himself and the situation while trying to get a grip. he thought of using the in-ear to alert jongho, but it would risk exposure of the communication device: in any case… he’d be dead by then.

“what is taking him so long?” jongho grunted, tapping his foot in impatience. it’d already been about 10 minutes since y/n entered the store—it shouldn’t take that long for a surgieron to find equipment that’s of medicinal standard!

tapping his in-ear and calling out the doctor’s name, he got no response. placing his face mask on, he rushed into the store, beckoning the cashier. “have you seen a man, about 6’3” with h/c hair?”

the cashier stared at him with a shocked look, “yes, but he went back toward the restrooms. is he dangerous?”

jongho shook his head before running toward the back of the store. he shoved against the restroom door, shouting out the older’s name as he threw open each stall door. finally admitting the fact that the older had disappeared, he tapped his in-ear once more, calling out for anyone.

“jongho, what’s going on?” hongjoong had intercepted the connection, hearing jongho’s worried voice.

the bodyguard had no time to register the primal fear that would settle itself in his bones once faced with the leader, “it’s y/n, hyung. he ran away.”

jongho returned to the headquarters after scoping out the area once more and had just entered through the front door when he was met with the sight of the whole group.

hongjoong was staring at him with his jaw clenched and an almost empty whiskey glass settled in his lax hand. jongho had never seen a look so severe in hongjoong’s eyes—he’d never messed up this bad. and apparently, the leader wasn’t the only one emotionally affected by his mistake, because before hongjoong could even physically express his own anger, san had snatched the glass from his hand and launched it at jongho, missing his head by less than an inch.

everyone was shocked at his silent outburst, san even going as far to ignore the immense pain in his abdomen and on his shoulder, but hongjoong simply sent the younger a look, causing him to cower back in the slightest. jongho, however, was enraged at what had just happened. what gave san, who had no superiority over him, the right to do that?

“what the fuck was that?” he had stormed over to the boy, grabbing his shirt with both fists. san didn’t back down, sticking his jaw out toward the youngest.

“how could you lose y/n?”

“i was told no matter what to avoid cameras, so i stayed outside! i didn’t exactly think the fucker would have the balls to run away!”

everyone watched the two, eyeing when to step in and pull them apart. but hongjoong let them run their mouths. the longer someone talks, the more something is revealed. what he was looking to be revealed, he didn’t know; but something would come up.

san pushed back against jongho, “y/n hyung wouldn’t run away. he’d never do that!”

‘oh,’ hongjoong perked in interest.

the younger scoffed, “what makes you so sure?”

san’s next words came as a bit of a shock, leaving the others with silent questions, “he promised he’d come back.”

bingo!

an awkward silence filled the room as they all stared, speechless at how hopelessly fond their brother had become for their hostage. as much as some of them hated to admit it, y/n was only a hostage to them at the end of the day. and for san to fall into a reversal stockholm syndrome of sorts was nothing short of a disappointment. however, that couldn’t be the main focus, y/n was missing and they didn’t know how strong his resolve would be in the event of torturing.

“run us back on what happened, will you?” hongjoong told jongho, trying to get a clear picture on what went down because the first thing they needed to know was why y/n was taken, much less, who took him. was it by the same person who’d been running their mouths in the streets?

and right in the middle of his explanation, an alarm went off on yeosang’s phone; it was a message. the others kept talking, figuring yeosang could handle whatever message he’d received.

it was when he promptly stood up that all attention had been placed on him.

“it’s him! it’s dongwoo!”

a soft whimper sounded as y/n was thrown to the ground, hands bound and eyes blinded by some piece of cloth.

“boss,” y/n’s kidnapper spoke in a submissive wave, causing y/n to assume the guy had straightened his spine and was saluting him in some way.

a moment later, a gruff voice broke through the eerie silence in the room, “and who is this?” his voice wasn’t angered or bewildered at all, and that’s what scared y/n. he sounded intrigued; like even he wasn’t expecting to be a part of this situation.

“someone with connections to ateez— saw that bodyguard walking around with him.”

the other man hummed, “the bodyguard didn’t follow you, did he?”

“no, no. i found them by the pharmacy; i know the area pretty well because i do the runs for sowon— i knew the camera blindspots!” his abductor seemed to be a bit on the simpler side when it came to this “boss” of his, y/n concluded. this was a completely different personality than when he was being abducted at the scene…

“good job. and you know what, changsik-ah,” his voice seemed to be getting more intrigued, y/n’s heart beating even faster in response, “since you bought in such a valuable hostage, i’ll let you have the honors of obtaining information from him.”

y/n felt the air beside him shift, changsik bowing a full 90 degrees at his boss’s blessing, “thank you!”

a sickeningly hearty laugh resonated and the creaking of a chair sounded before the boss’s next words seemed to be the final straw for y/n’s pounding heart.

“i want him alive.”

“he better be alive,” san growled at jongho.

“we might get to him alive if you two would quit bickering. we’re wasting time because of you two, so shut it and sit down!” hongjoong had had enough of the two. he knew it was a sensitive time for san and jongho, different reasons for both, of course, but they would only get nowhere if they weren’t level-headed.

the two boys bowed their heads at their leader, san still sending a side-eyed glare at the younger before sitting down in his chair.

it’d been two days since y/n was kidnapped and they still hadn’t been able to come up with a plan to get y/n back.

wooyoung tried to trace where the text message came from within the first minute it was received, but surprise, surprise! it was a burner phone— so back to square one; checking all of the cctv footage in the area and trying to spot a suspect that wasn’t even visible from the first frame.

the cameras in the pharmacy showed only y/n, the pharmacist, clerk, and four other customers. of those four, only one person never entered through the front door. and within those 48 hours, he’d managed to single out a vehicle that had arrived in the frame of one of the street cams showing the alleyway behind the pharmacy, and left the same way not even 5 minutes later. it was a suspicious vehicle too; white van, no windows in the back, and paper license plates. the paper plates hinted that they were most likely changed recently or are changed frequently.

and so after hours of having to witness his best friend be so uncharacteristically frantic and down, wooyoung, unfortunately, decided to do what he thought was smartest—save y/n himself to make his best friend happy again.

his intentions may have been well, but in stories like these, doesn’t something always go wrong?

“help me set the table guys,” seonghwa cleared his throat, hand on his hip as he stirred the soup on the stove. the steam from the boiling liquid sent another cloud to his tired face, a sheen of sweat and condensation forming.

“i really don’t understand why we are acting like we have the time to set a table and eat home cooked meals when we don’t!” san exasperated, pacing around the dining room.

mingi gave a sympathetic smile, patting him on the back before going to help seonghwa.

while mingi was more on the understanding side of san’s worries, jongho disagreed, “how exactly do you expect us to find him if we don’t take care of ourselves?”

“all i’m saying is food and sleep shouldn’t be this consistently on your minds when we’re all in this situation!”

jongho scoffed, finding the utmost absurdities in san’s words, “why are you acting like he’s so important? he doesn’t know anything about us or our weaknesses— for fuck’s sake, it’s not like we can’t just get another doc—”

a fist had flown toward jongho’s cheek, cutting off his words, before san’s thrashing body was being pulled back by mingi and yeosang.

“go to hell choi jongho!” san screamed, trying to force his way through the barrier the two had made with their bodies. the boy could feel his stitches tearing as he fought, but he didn’t care. jongho had been a bitch since the very first moment y/n was around, and for what reason?

“cut it out, san!” yeosang hollered, voice brute as he pushed against the boy.

“no, let me at him. he wants to keep being a little shit, i’ll show him shitty!”

“stop it! you haven’t even noticed, have you?”

san didn’t stop trying to break the barrier, focusing on getting to jongho and the other’s words, “notice what?”

“wooyoung’s missing,” yeosang began, san whipping his head toward him and trying to disagree, but yeosang was having none of it, “and you haven’t done anything but antagonize everyone here for not doing their jobs at your pace!”

“oh, excuse me for trying to be as quick as possible in finding him!”

“yeah, and who ever said quick was the efficient route to go? we’re dealing with people we know nothing about, but they seem to know a little too much about us, no? so stop getting on everyone’s asses and—”

“shut the hell up! please!” seonghwa had slammed his hands down on the table, screaming at the top of his lungs. every person in the room had immediately gone silent, words left on the tips of their tongues in a desperate attempt to fly about.

“you’re all going to shut it, sit down, and eat this meal like the civilized people we are and come up with a plan to get y/n back as safely as possible,” he gave a quick glare at everyone, blowing a puff of air at the lock of hair that had settled over his eyelids.

“am i clear?”

"yes, sir."

#t.k chapter #tinted kisses #kpop x male reader #x male reader #choi san x male reader #san x male reader #choi san #san ateez #ateez fic #ateez series #series #top male reader #ateez #ateez x male reader #kpop imagines #kpop series #kpop fics #ateez fics

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reidamancy · 4 years ago

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too late || spencer reid

summary: Spencer and you never got closure after you broke up. But hidden feelings and confessions reveal themselves when you’ve been abducted. Now Spencer is forced to analyze a voicemail you left for him to try and save you before it’s too late. (spencer reid x fem!reader)

category: angst

warnings: s2 spoilers, kidnapping, knife and gun usage, slight mentions of blood and drugs, plot holes, probably incorrect medical info

word count: 4.4k

a/n: this is my very first cm fic, and I’m completely new to the fandom so I hope there are still people out there who read cm fics lol

MASTERLIST

(part one | part two)

Spencer’s POV

“Spencer?” Her voice breathed shakily through the voicemail.

Y/N. I recognized her voice immediately. For a split second I was filled with bliss just from the sound of her voice, but my heart dropped when I recognized the terror laced in her words.

She paused for a bit before continuing. “Hi, it’s me. I’m sorry, I know you don’t want to hear from me right now,” She choked on a sob, but little did she know that was furthest from the truth. “But I didn’t know who else to call.” Another pause.

I leaned forward in my seat, resting my arms on my desk while listening intently to the message.

“I... I’m in trouble Spencer. I don’t know who he is. He took me from my car and brought me here. He made me call you because he knows,” She took a deep breath before letting out a sob. “He knows you will never save me in time.” By now, her voice came out as a squeak. My breath caught in my throat as my worst nightmare came true.

“No, Spencer, wait, please listen to me.” I shut my eyes and exhaled. I pinched the bridge of my nose; she must have had to pretended I answered the phone, and I wasn’t there when she needed me most.

She sniffled on the phone and continued.

“I don’t know how much time I have left... So I guess this is goodbye Spencer...” I felt my heart shatter as tears pricked my eyes.

“When we met, I knew exactly where I was in life. But you, you changed that. You taught me so much, Spencer. I remember all the games we'd play when you were home.” Y/N paused as she left out a sigh. A sad smile crept on my face as I recalled our shared competitive nature and the countless games that sprung from it. I could only imagine her expression mirroring my own as she spoke. “You'd always win but I guess that's what happens when you play against Dr. Reid. I still think you forgot two dozen names just to let me win.” She let out a dry laugh.

“The last time I saw you was on our anniversary, June 6. 9:30 on the dot. And then you abandoned me Spencer, you left me alone in the big, cold world.” She took a breath and I let out a small gasp when I heard the sound of a gun cocking in the background.

“I told myself I'd never forgive you, but the truth is I already have. I can't leave without you knowing that. Please save me, Spencer.” She whispered the last line before the phone was yanked out of her hands, evident by the small yelp and shuffling I heard, and the voicemail ended with a low growl saying, “You’ll never get here in time.”

The voicemail ended and the fear I felt from before melted into rage. I knew exactly what I had to do. Phone in hand, I marched straight into Hotch’s office.

Reader’s POV

The man snatched the phone out of my hands and quickly hung up on the call before redirecting his gun at me. He had it pointed at me the entire call and cocked it once he was getting impatient.

The worst part was he didn’t bother to hide his face. He had bound my arms and legs together, but never blinded me. I knew exactly where I was and who he was, which only meant one thing: I wasn’t getting out of here alive.

My abductor shot at the ground and I let out a scream. “That was a bit long now, wasn’t it?” He sneered.

“You’re gonna kill me! I had to say goodbye properly!” I sobbed.

It was partly true. What he didn’t know, however, was the fact that I had an FBI agent for an ex-boyfriend, and a genius one at that. I haven’t spoken to him in months, but I prayed that he would understand the hidden clues I left in the voicemail. I hated how this was our first interaction since our breakup, but I needed him now more than ever.

I’ve wanted to call him countless times; it’s almost ironic that it took a literal kidnapping for me to finally do so. In the wake of our breakup, I found myself completely miserable. I missed everything about him, and I caught myself staring at his phone number on my screen numerous times, contemplating if I should actually call him or not. I wanted to, I really wanted to. I wanted to tell him how much I missed his voice, his touch, his love. But every happy memory we had would then be overshadowed by stronger memories of him snapping at me, being repulsed by my touch, and his mood swings. So I never got the courage to push the dial button.

It was a never ending cycle. I’d want to call him; perhaps I wanted to try to fix things one more time. I knew something was wrong, maybe I could have done more to help him. But then I would realize I couldn’t help him unless he let me. So I’d always end up deleting the digits on my screen and hope he was doing okay. But days later I’d find myself punching in those exact digits once again, only to delete them minutes later. In time, I had memorized his number by heart, which is why it was almost instinctive to dial him today.

The fact that he was an FBI agent was the last thing on my mind when I pushed call. I just needed him, I needed Spencer. It felt wrong, after months without speaking I thought we had both moved on. But he was the first person I thought of when given an instrument to cry for help. And as soon as I heard his voicemail, as soon as I heard his voice, I realized I needed more than Dr. Reid. I needed Special Agent Reid.

I tried to remember everything I could from the few times Spencer would talk to me about his cases. If I could understand this unsub like he and his team could, maybe I could survive. But the more I remembered, the quicker I realized my chances of survival were slim. He’s way too confident for me to have been his first victim. He gave me the freedom to call whoever I wanted and say whatever I wanted, and he wouldn’t have done that if he knew he wouldn’t get caught. So the phone call must be part of his signature, but why? Why give that much freedom to his victims at all? Maybe he just likes to hear the pain in our voices when we say goodbye.

No, it has to be more than that. Right before I dialed Spencer, the man told me, “Make sure they answer.” And that’s when it hit me. He must take pleasure in knowing his victim’s loved ones are aware of what’s happening but can’t save them. He’s stripping them of their power to help, to save, their loved ones. I hope that isn’t the case for me. I didn’t want to call Spencer (okay, maybe deep down in my heart, I did), because he made it very clear he wanted nothing to do with me. But if anyone could save me, it was Spencer Reid.

I was pulled out of my thoughts when my abductor leaned in front of me, his putrid breath fanning over my face. I noticed his gun was now in his holster and one of his hands was behind his back. He slowly pulled it out to reveal a knife and he placed the blade against my arm. I winced as he put pressure against my skin, but not enough to draw blood.

“Now that... what was his name? Spencer?” He let out a low chuckle. “Now that Spencer knows you’re here, he’ll try to save you.” The unsub slowly dragged the knife up my arm, still not breaking the skin, and I let out a whimper.

“He’ll tell the police, but they’ll be too late.” He taunted. “They always are.”

The man now used his knife to push hair out of my face. “While we wait... Let’s have some fun.” He sunk the knife into my shoulder and I let out a scream.

Spencer’s POV

As the case was presented to the team, I was paralyzed in my seat with the voicemail replaying over and over again in my head.

It’s me. I’m sorry, I know you don’t want to hear from me right now.

I’ve been wanting to hear her voice for months, and when I finally do it’s because she was abducted. Even worse, she’s apologetic that she even has to call me. As if she’d ever have to apologize for speaking to me...

“Reid?” Hotch’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

I looked up at him and he repeated himself. “Will you analyze the voicemail for clues on Y/N’s location?”

I silently nodded. He turned to JJ and whispered to her to stay with me. Everyone then dispersed to do everything they could to bring Y/N back.

“Kid, who is this?” Morgan stayed behind and questioned me.

“Hm?” I questioned innocently.

“Look, she could have called anyone in the world, but she called you. And you obviously care for her or else you wouldn’t be so quiet right now. So who is she?” Derek displayed concern in his eyes.

I let out a sigh. JJ took a seat in front of me and Morgan leaned against the table. My eyes were fixated on my hands, which were in my lap. “Her name’s Y/N. She was the one who got away.” I heard my voice crack, but I didn’t care. JJ and Morgan looked at me with sorrow as they listened to me open up about the love of my life.

“I met her at the library. She saw I was checking out a book about physics and she gushed about how it was her favorite subject. We went on for 20 minutes talking about the subject, and then she asked me out for coffee.” I bit my lip.

“We started dating for a few months and everything was perfect. She didn’t mind my work schedule, and she listened to all my rambles. Sometimes she even had some facts of her own to add.” I recalled all the times Y/N would add to my fact spews instead of shutting me down, and I couldn’t stop the smile resulted from the memories. “She was perfect. In every way.”

I took a deep breath as my love story took a sour turn. “But then I... I started to push her away. After Tobias Hankel I pushed everyone away, but Y/N got it the worst. I was a horrible boyfriend, but she never gave up on me. She never knew why I was acting that way, but eventually I pushed her too far. We broke up because she thought I hated her. But I don’t. I never did.” I trailed off, remembering fragments of the last fight we had. I cringed as I remembered how broken her voice was, and how I continued to tear her down. I wasn’t in my right mind. If I could go back, I’d never let her leave that door. But in hindsight, I don’t blame her for leaving.

I quickly wiped the tears off my cheeks as Morgan rubbed my shoulder. JJ got up and hugged me. She lowered her face towards me and said, “We’re gonna save her, Spence. And when we do, you’re gonna tell her all of this.” She flashed me a kind smile.

“After I got off dilaudid, I realized I lost her, so I tried to get her back. I wanted to surprise her, so I went to the cafe we went to the day we met, and I saw her there. She was there with another guy... She had already moved on and I was too late. I never got to apologize to her.”

I didn't want to meddle in Y/N's new relationship. She had every right to move on. So I tried to as well. But it didn't hurt any less, especially since I never got to explain myself to her. I had accepted the fact that Y/N had moved on from me, but her voicemail gave me an ounce of hope. In the direst of circumstances I was the one she called. Perhaps it was because of my job, but I let myself hope that maybe I misread the situation. That man could have been a friend. And I could still have a chance.

But hope is a dangerous thing.

“Reid, I know this is hard. We all want to get Y/N back safe, but you’re the only one who can understand what she’s trying to tell us here. Think you can focus?” Morgan wanted to make sure my head was clear enough to analyze Y/N’s message. The truth was, I wasn’t sure.

But I nodded and played the voicemail again.

“June 6?” I repeated once the voicemail ended.

“Is that when the two of you met?” Morgan asked.

“No, that date doesn’t have any significance to us at all. June 6, 9:30? Why would she say that?” I wondered out loud as I wrote 6/6, 9:30 on the board.

“Can you play it again?” I asked JJ.

When we met, I knew exactly where I was in life.

“There right there, pause.” I knew that was a lie. “When we met, she was a graduate student but she didn’t know what to study. I helped her with that.”

“Okay, so she knows you can catch onto her lies. What is she trying to tell us?” JJ wondered out loud.

It was then that I realized what Y/N was doing. “This entire call is full of lies. She knew I’d catch onto them, but I don’t know what she’s saying.”

Morgan jumped in, “Okay, so if you catch all of her lies, we’ll decode the message.” I nodded as JJ pressed play and I wrote down all the lies in the voicemail.

By the end of the call, my board looked like this:

6/6, 9:30

“knew where I was in life”

winning game - 2 dozen names?

“Okay, so what does this all mean, Reid?” Morgan asked.

I stared at the board, trying to make a connection. “I don’t know...” I mumbled. I knew Y/N was trying to tell me something, and if I could figure it out I could save her. The thought gave me enough confidence to analyze her diction. “But did you hear the end of the call? She said I left her alone in the ‘big, cold world.’ It’s odd that she would describe it like that.”

“So she’s somewhere big and cold?” JJ chimed in.

“Probably...” I answered as I added to the board.

“What about abandoned? Is that describing where she is or is this actually about your relationship?” Morgan asked.

“I don’t think she would use 'abandoned' to describe our relationship...” I bit my lip. I wouldn’t say I abandoned her, but I couldn’t help but wonder if that was how she actually felt. I cleared my throat. “That’s probably where she is. Big, cold, and abandoned.”

“So what are we thinking, warehouse?” JJ inputted.

Morgan nodded. “Okay, we’re getting somewhere. So does that mean when she said she knew exactly where she was in life, she meant she actually knew exactly where she was taken?”

“What about the game she talked about? What does that mean?” JJ asked.

“I never let her win any games, she insisted we both play fair and square.” I tried to think back to all the games we played. “She mentioned names... There was only one where we used names,” I held back a smile. “We were trying to see who would be the first to name all the U.S. presidents.”

Morgan and JJ looked at each other. “Why am I not surprised.” Morgan let out a small chuckle.

“But you forgot two dozen names?” JJ questioned.

“Two dozen is specific... and Reid doesn’t forget.” Morgan thought out loud.

I tried to remember more about the game. “I won that game. I was the first to put down my pencil and she teased me for it. But she wanted to finish her list so I’d give her clues to who she forgot... But there was one name she just couldn’t remember.”

“Two dozen... Did it happen to be the 24th president?” JJ wondered.

I let out a small smile. Clever girl. “Yeah, it was Grover Cleveland. The 24th president.”

I now looked at my new board, filled with new information.

6/6, 9:30

“knew where I was in life” am

winning game - 2 dozen names? ➝ Cleveland!

big, cold

abandoned

warehouse?

My head was swirling, trying to make sense of what Y/N gave me. My eyes darted up and down the board, trying to see her message. She knew where she was. She gave me a name, numbers...

“I got it!” I yelled. “It’s an address. She knew exactly where she was and she was trying to tell us! June 6, 9:30? 66930. Where’s Garcia? I bet there’s an abandoned building at 66930 Cleveland Street.”

Morgan raced out of the room to grab Garcia. Moments later she rushed into the room with her laptop and I hurriedly asked her, “Garcia, what is at 66930 Cleveland Street?”

Her fingers blazed across the keyboard then she shook her head. “No, I can’t find that address.”

JJ leaned towards the monitor. “Try Cleveland Road?”

Garcia shook her head once again, “Sorry my sweets, there’s no 66930 Cleveland Road either.”

She continued to clack at her keyboard, and moments later she lit up and said, “Wait, I see an abandoned warehouse at 6693 Cleveland Road!”

“It was probably easier for Y/N to use time to disguise the numbers, even if it added another digit...” I thought out loud.

Morgan rushed over to her computer as I felt my body fill up with hope. “What can you tell us about it, baby girl?” He asked.

“It was previously owned by a man named Hubert Roffkins, but then the trail ends 2 months ago. It looks like it was abandoned then, and oh dear.”

“What is it?” Morgan pushed.

“Hotch asked me to look into similar abductions with phone calls ending with murder.”

I swallowed harshly. “And?” I asked.

“The dates coincide with the first kidnapping.”

“Let’s go.” Morgan commanded.

Third Person POV

Hubert Roffkins had stabbed Y/N for the seventh time by the time the FBI got to the scene. He was cornered and surrounded by agents, he knew there was no way out of this. As he reached for his gun, Agent Hotchner fired a single shot to the head and Roffkins was dead before he hit the ground.

Y/N was still conscious when the agents came. She was surrounded by her own blood and dizzy with pain, but she knew once she saw those FBI vests, she’d be okay. She wasn’t sure what was happening, but she heard a gunshot and saw a pair of converse running towards her. Her vision was blurring, but she didn’t need it to identify the figure who picked her up off the ground and held her face. He kept telling her to stay with him, but she couldn’t hear him. Her vision focused on his face for one second and she smiled at the familiar face. “Spencer,” she whispered, so faint he could barely hear her.

“I’m here, Y/N, I’m here.” He cried, holding her closer to him.

Her vision blurred once more and she let the darkness succumb her.

Spencer rode in the ambulance with her, and he would not let go of her hand the entire way to the hospital. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, wondering what could have been if he’d arrived just a few moments earlier.

Once in the hospital, it took an army of nurses to separate Spencer from Y/N. He couldn’t let her out of his sight, too scared of losing her again. So he settled on sitting outside her room while the doctors operated on her.

The rest of the BAU team met him at the hospital. They exchanged glances and sighs, unable to help their youngest teammate. No matter how they tried to comfort him, his mind was fixated on the well-being of his lost love.

The doctor emerged from Y/N’s room and Spencer immediately sat up.

“Her vitals are stable and he missed the major organs. She will be incredibly sore, but she’s gonna make it.” The doctor announced.

Spencer smiled. “Can I see her?” He asked.

The doctor nodded, warning him that she was still sleeping and she will be very tired.

Spencer walked into the room and sighed. He hated seeing her like this. She was pale, and she looked so fragile. He wanted nothing more than to wrap her in his arms and hold her forever.

He took a seat next to her bed and grabbed her hand. His thumb traced small circles on the back of her hand while he studied her face. Finally, after months of being apart, he was finally here with her. He was both relieved and terrified, knowing that once she woke up, she would have his entire heart in her hands.

“Hey, Y/N.” He whispered, his voice coming out broken. He cleared his throat and continued.

“I uh, I got your voicemail.” His voice cracked and he let out a sad smile. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. But you did so good. I understood, Y/N. I remembered everything.” His voice cracked and tears were welling up in his eyes, but he continued. “You’re so strong. I’m so proud of you.” His voice was now barely above a whisper.

Spencer stopped for a moment to compose himself. It was the moment he had been waiting for. Y/N was right in front of him and all of his emotions were overwhelming. He had to tell her right now. Even if she couldn’t hear him; he needed the practice. Because the words have been bottled up for so long, and now that she was right in front of him, he felt like he was going to burst. But he just didn’t know where to start.

“Y/N, I don’t know if you can hear me, but I really need to tell you something, and I can’t wait any longer.” Spencer let out a sigh and stared at her hand in his. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you for months, and I-I need to let the words out before I lose my confidence.” Spencer swallowed thickly. “Or I don’t know, maybe you can hear me. Studies have shown that...” He trailed off. He was rambling.

Spencer let out a deep sigh and brought his eyes back to Y/N’s face. “Y/N... You were the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I can’t believe I let you go.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “You were right, you know. Something did happen to me on a case. But I didn’t want to bring you into the evil that corrupts my world, so I kept you in the dark. But then it got out of hand... It became less about shielding you and more about protecting myself.” Spencer licked his lips and lowered his eyes again. He felt ashamed. Had it not been for his own pride, perhaps Y/N would still be in his life. Maybe he could have even prevented this. But he let out a shaky breath and continued.

“I was abducted and tortured by a man named Tobias Hankel. He had multiple personalities. So when he wasn’t torturing me, he was giving me painkillers. It was dilaudid.” Spencer shook his head as the memories of his abduction came back to him.

“I... I became addicted, Y/N. I knew I needed help. But I wanted to prove I was strong. I wanted to prove that I could bounce back and show that I could handle it. But I couldn’t.” By now, the young doctor was crying. He continued through his sobs. “I guess I... I guess I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it on my own, so I pushed everyone away, Y/N. Not just you. And I know that doesn’t make it better, but you were never the problem, Y/N. It was me.”

Spencer looked at Y/N’s face and rubbed circles on her hand. “I know there’s no way you could have known that, but I don’t want you blaming yourself for what happened between us. And I know what you would say if you were awake right now. I know what I did was wrong. I realized that you would never see me as weak for this, but in that moment I've never felt so weak. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

Hot tears streamed down the Spencer’s face as he continued. “I’ve been sober for half a year now. I’ve been sober ever since we broke up. And I know drugs don’t excuse how I acted towards you, but I just needed you to know,” Spencer held onto Y/N’s hand tighter. “I never stopped loving you.”

As the young doctor spilled his heart out to his love, the words he spoke never reached their recipient. Y/N laid in deep slumber, unaware of Spencer’s confession as he sat next to her. She would stay in her comatose-like condition until the next day, never to hear the truth behind the end of her and Spencer’s relationship.

Because when Y/N awoke, Spencer had gone to get his morning cup of coffee from the hospital’s cafeteria. He had spent the entire night sleeping by her side, desperate to be the first person she saw when she woke up. By the time he returned, fits of giggles were emerging from Y/N’s room.

Spencer’s heart fluttered as he heard her laughter echo in his ears. She was finally awake, and he could finally get his confession off his conscience. All he had to do was repeat the words he had said the night before, this time to active ears.

But the words were caught in his throat once more, because when Spencer entered Y/N’s room, he was met with two sets of eyes instead of one. Y/N had lit up and exclaimed, “There’s the man who saved my life!” Her excitement and smile still brought butterflies to Spencer’s stomach. But they quickly disappeared when she spoke her next sentence, confirming Spencer’s fears.

“Spencer, I want you to meet Connor. My boyfriend.” She gestured to the man sitting next to her. Spencer had recognized him immediately, he was the man he saw Y/N with at the cafe.

Spencer’s stomach dropped and his heart broke once again.

He was too late.

---

read part two here!

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