#I was kind of hoping I’d escape this tag game

[cupidskissx]

WIP game

Rules: Post the names of the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! Tag as many people as you have WIPs.

Thank you to the wildly talented @sunshineyoujustwait 🥹😍

I must confess I don’t actually name my drafts outside of their actual titles! 🙈 Two of which aren’t named yet and they’re just saved as the first sentence (please don’t discriminate against my ✨process✨)! To make up for it, if you squint you’ll get a surprise I’ve been gatekeeping for months 😌

Monaco Malaise Part 2 (Azerbaijan Abnegation)

🌀 Charles hums along to the ballad playing through his speaker as he smoothes down the top sheet.

Prompt #1 The first time Max saw Charles, he knew.

Apologies if you’ve already been tagged: @alestire @tetralea @strawberryfieldsandflowers ❤️

[syluslnd]

Hello I'm sorry if you're not taking requests. But please please if you are can you make the part 2 of Sylus as an online sugar daddy meeting with his sugar baby.

But please ignore it if you don't take requests and your writing is SOOO GOODD. Have a nice day!!

Sylus meeting with his online sugar baby

(note-you sent this a while back when I first started posting so I hope you’re still around lol I’m sorry for taking so long🤍)

Tags • virgin reader,sugar daddy sylus,verbal teasing,fingering,climaxing

5k word count (I got carried away sorry)

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Sylus himself couldn't even believe he was doing this. It wasn’t just a waste of time for him; he never thought he’d be the type to seek out a woman, especially in a place like this but something about you intrigued him in a way he couldn't ignore.

As he leaned against his sleek black car outside the arcade the neon lights flickered, illuminating the faces of the young couples and friends inside. He felt out of place the leader of Onychinus waiting in a childish venue a stark contrast to his usual world of power and control.

He glanced at his watch, the minutes stretching painfully. He was serious about this arrangement, after all. He had his reasons, practical ones—companionship, a distraction from the relentless pressure of his life. But he couldn't deny the thrill of meeting you, the allure of stepping into a world so different from his own.

The sound of laughter drew his attention, and then he saw you approaching. Your smile was bright, a refreshing contrast to the shadows that usually loomed around him. You looked confident almost carefree as you made your way toward him.

“Hi! sorry if I kept you waiting,” you said your voice light and cheerful,opposite of how he’s used to people greeting him.

“It’s fine,” Sylus replied, maintaining his serious demeanor. “I’m just getting used to this.”

“This?” you asked, gesturing around the arcade. “I get it,It’s not exactly your usual scene.”

He finally met your gaze, feeling a flicker of something unexpected—curiosity, perhaps. “I’m not here for the games sweetie”.

You smiled at his straightforwardness, your cheerful demeanor undeterred by his serious tone. “I figured,but the games are kind of fun! You should try one!”

Sylus raised an eyebrow, intrigued but unwilling to show it. “I doubt I’d find much enjoyment in... this.” He gestured around, feeling a mix of irritation and fascination at how different your world was.

You chuckled softly, the sound warming the chilly air between you. “You might be surprised,It’s nice to escape sometimes.” There was a glimmer in your eyes that caught him off guard.

“Escape?” he echoed, feeling the weight of his own reality settle back over him. “I’m not sure that’s possible for me.”

Your expression shifted slightly, the playful light dimming as you regarded him more seriously. “I didn’t mean to pry. I just thought—”

“It’s fine,” he interrupted, his voice sharper than intended. He didn’t want to scare you away, but vulnerability was foreign territory for him.

You looked at him, studying his chiseled features and the tension that pulled at the corners of his mouth. “You’re not like anyone I’ve ever met,” you said softly, as if sensing the walls he’d erected around himself.

“Maybe that’s for the best,” he replied, a hint of angst creeping into his tone. It was a reminder of the danger he lived in, the enemies lurking in shadows,never being able to be off guard . “You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

Your gaze remained steady, unwavering. “and yet here I am,Isn’t that the thrill of it? To step outside our comfort zones?”

“Thrill,” he muttered, a bitter smile playing on his lips. “More like recklessness.” But even as he said it, he couldn’t shake the instinct to protect you, to shield your brightness from his dark world.

You tilted your head, curiosity gleaming in your eyes. “You’re so serious sylus,what are you afraid of?”

He hesitated, the weight of his duality pressing down. “That I’ll lose you, kitten.” The admission surprised even him. He didn’t know you well, yet there was something about you that ignited an urgency within him.

Your smile returned, softer now, disarming his cold demeanor. “I’m not going anywhere,not yet at least.”

For the first time, Sylus felt a crack in his armor. Perhaps this sugar daddy arrangement was about more than just companionship; it was a chance to explore a connection that was both terrifying and exhilarating.

As you took a step closer, he felt an instinctive need to draw you nearer, to keep you safe. “Let’s get out of here,” he said abruptly, surprising even himself with the sudden protective urge.

You blinked, a mix of confusion and excitement dancing across your face. “Where to?”

“Somewhere... away from all this.”

And with that, the tension shifted. Sylus realized he was no longer just a mafia boss seeking distraction; he was a man drawn to someone who could bring light into his otherwise shadowed existence.

As sylus drove you to the hotel, the tension in the car was palpable, a mix of excitement and uncertainty. The neon lights outside blurred by, but all he could focus on was the way you shifted in your seat, a nervous smile playing on your lips.

Once inside the hotel, he led you to a private suite, the door clicking shut behind you with a sense of finality. The room was elegantly furnished, dim lighting casting a warm glow. You looked around, your earlier cheerfulness tempered by a hint of shyness.

“What happened to the lively little kitten I met at the arcade?” Sylus teased, leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. “You seemed so confident, and now...”

You bit your lip, glancing at the floor. “I don’t know! It’s just… different, you know?”

“Different,how so kitten?” He stepped closer, his eyes gleaming with playful mischief. “You’re not worried about me, are you?”

“No, it’s not that” you replied, trying to maintain your composure. “It’s just... you’re a bit intimidating.”

He chuckled, clearly enjoying your flustered state. “Intimidating? Sweetie, I promise I’m just a guy, a guy who’s curious about why you’re suddenly so shy.”

You took a breath, trying to regain some confidence. “I guess I just didn’t expect to be here, with you, like this.”

“Is that so?” He leaned against the edge of the bed, arms crossed, the teasing glint in his eyes intensifying. “I would’ve thought you’d be eager to explore every aspect of this arrangement.”

“Explore?” you echoed, feeling your cheeks heat.

“Yeah, you know,” he said, a playful smirk on his lips. “Try out all the fun things you can’t do over the phone .”

Your heart raced and you glanced away, flustered. “I—”

“Come on, kitten,” he coaxed, stepping closer again, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Are you a little more innocent than you let on? Is that what this is about?”

You froze, your mind racing. “Um, well, I—”

“Are you a virgin, sweetie?” His words hung in the air, a teasing challenge that made you blush even deeper.

Your eyes widened, caught off guard. “I… maybe?” The admission slipped out before you could stop it, and you felt utterly exposed.

Sylus raised an eyebrow, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Well, that explains the shyness,but it’s cute,” he said, leaning in closer a playful glint in his eye. “I didn’t realize I was dealing with such an innocent little thing.”

You shifted your weight, heart pounding. “Stop it!” you protested, half-laughing, half-embarrassed. “You’re making me feel like a kid!”

“Maybe you are,” he teased, his tone light but his gaze serious. “But don’t worry, kitten. I’ll make sure you’re taken care of.”

Your stomach fluttered at his words, a mix of excitement and nervousness washing over you. “You’re such a meanie!” you said, trying to sound indignant but failing miserably.

“I’m just having a little fun, sweetie,” he replied, his voice low and inviting. “You’re adorable when you blush like that. I could get used to this.”

The playful banter hung in the air, creating an electric atmosphere. You couldn’t help but smile, feeling the walls you’d built around yourself slowly crumbling. “Maybe I’ll show you more of my personality if you promise to be nice,” you offered, your voice teasing back.

“Oh, I’ll be nice,” he promised, stepping back slightly to give you space. “But I can’t make any guarantees about being gentle.”

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the thrill that raced through you at his words. “I guess I’ll have to hold you to that.”

And in that moment, amidst the teasing and the laughter, something shifted between you, a connection deepening beneath the playful facade. Sylus felt a flicker of something he hadn’t anticipated—an urge to protect not just your innocence, but also to cherish the light you brought into his dark world.

Sylus moved towards you, the teasing smile on his lips fading just enough for his expression to darken, a serious intensity taking over. He crossed the room slowly, closing the space between the two of you, and before you could react, his hands were on your waist. With a firm but gentle grip, he lifted you effortlessly and plopped you onto the bed. The air left your lungs in a quiet gasp and for a moment, you were caught off guard by how swiftly he moved.

“Sweetie,” he murmured, his voice dipping into something lower, something that made the room feel smaller. His gaze locked on yours, the playfulness still there but laced with a seriousness that hadn’t been present before. “You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into, do you?”

You swallowed hard, the nervousness creeping back in as he loomed over you. “I… I think I do.”

He smirked, but there was something almost sad in it. “You think, huh?” His thumb brushed lightly against your waist as he knelt onto the bed, his hands still holding you in place. “Kitten, I’ve been playing this game for a long time. I know when someone’s out of their depth.”

The teasing edge in his tone made your heart race, but there was a weight behind his words that made you shift beneath him, uneasy but drawn in all the same.

“You’re a sweet little thing,” he said, his voice almost tender, though his words held a darker undertone. “Too sweet for someone like me. This isn’t like those playful messages online, sweetheart. I live in a world that’s... far from innocent.”

Your breath caught as his fingers trailed up your side, the motion almost soothing despite the tension in the air. “But you… you still want me here, don’t you?”

He leaned closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear as he whispered, “I want you, kitten. More than I should,but I worry about what happens if you stay in my world too long.”

You blinked, trying to steady yourself, your mind spinning. “What do you mean?”

Sylus pulled back slightly, his face hovering just inches from yours. The smirk returned, but his eyes were shadowed, conflicted. “You see, I’ve got my fun little games, but outside of this room? My life isn’t soft. It’s sharp edges and shadows..and you” he said, brushing a thumb over your cheek, “you’re too innocent,you don’t belong in that darkness.”

Your stomach tightened, the weight of his words sinking in. “I can handle it. I’m not a kid.”

He chuckled softly, though there was no humor in it this time. “You’re not a kid, but you’re pure, and I’m not.” His hand found its way to your chin, tilting your head so your eyes met his. “You think being my sugar baby is all fun and games. But in person? It’s different. You’re not just playing with me anymore, sweetheart. You’re playing with fire.”

Your pulse quickened as he shifted his weight, pinning you gently beneath him. “And what if I want to get burned?” you whispered, feeling bolder in the heat of the moment.

For a second, his expression softened, and his fingers threaded through your hair as he gazed down at you with a mix of affection and regret. “Careful what you wish for, sweetie,” he murmured. “I might just give it to you.”

Despite the teasing, there was an undeniable protectiveness in the way he spoke, as if he wasn’t sure if he wanted to pull you closer or keep you at arm’s length. It was as if he feared that pulling you too far into his world would extinguish the light you carried—something that had begun to matter to him in ways he wasn’t prepared to admit.

And in that moment, you realized Sylus wasn’t just worried about what he could do to you. He was worried about what his world could do to someone like you.

Sylus hovered above you, his eyes flickering between restraint and desire, that teasing smirk playing on his lips as if he was holding himself back. You could feel the tension in the air, thick and electric, his fingers still gently grazing your cheek. Despite all his playful words and sly smirks, you could see it—he was hesitating, his dark world swirling in his mind, wondering if pulling you closer would be a mistake.

For a moment, you bit your lip, considering what to do. But something inside you shifted. If Sylus wasn’t going to make the move, you would.

With a sudden burst of boldness, you reached up and cupped the back of his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. His eyes widened in surprise, the smirk faltering just slightly as you pulled him closer, your lips hovering inches from his.

“I’m not as fragile as you think, Sylus,” you whispered, your voice steady even though your heart pounded in your chest. “I can handle whatever you throw at me.”

For a moment, he simply stared at you, as if caught completely off guard by your sudden boldness. Then, a slow grin spread across his face, his eyes gleaming with amusement and something darker, something hungry.

“Oh, kitten,” he murmured, his voice low and velvety, “you think you’re being serious, don’t you?”

You kept your grip firm on the back of his neck, refusing to back down. “I am serious.”

The way his eyes softened at your determined expression made your stomach flip. He found you adorable—your attempt at taking control only seemed to amuse him more. “Look at you,” he said, voice dripping with affection and a hint of that ever-present teasing. “So tough, huh?”

Before you could say anything else, Sylus closed the distance, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that stole the breath from your lungs. His hands, which had been holding you so delicately, tightened their grip, pulling you flush against him.

Your boldness evaporated as quickly as it had appeared, replaced by a wave of flustered heat. The intensity of his kiss left you dizzy and though you had initiated this, you quickly realized you were in over your head. Your heart pounded in your ears, and you felt your face burning with embarrassment.

He broke the kiss just long enough to chuckle against your lips, his breath warm as he whispered, “What’s the matter, sweetie? You’re the one who made the move.”

You could barely respond, too flustered to form words. He loved it—he could see it in your wide eyes, the way your chest rose and fell with shallow breaths. You’d been so bold just moments before, but now? Now, you were back to being the adorable, innocent girl that had him wrapped around her finger.

Sylus leaned in again, this time brushing his lips over your cheek, down to your jaw, his voice a low, teasing rumble. “So cute when you’re all shy like this.”

Your hands trembled slightly, but you held onto him, trying not to completely melt under his touch. “I’m not… shy” you mumbled, but the words came out weak, betraying how flustered you really were.

“Oh, sure” he teased, his lips ghosting over the sensitive skin of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. “Is that why you can’t even look me in the eyes right now?”

You wanted to protest, to regain some sense of composure but before you could, his hand slid down from your waist, trailing over your hip, slow and deliberate. His touch sent a shock of heat through you, and you instinctively arched toward him, though the movement only made you feel more embarrassed.

Sylus grinned against your skin, clearly enjoying the way you responded to him. “What happened to handling everything, kitten? Still think you’re in control?”

The way he spoke, his voice thick with amusement and a teasing edge, made it clear he was fully aware of the effect he had on you. He wanted to push you, see how far he could take it.

His hand slid lower, his fingers brushing over the curve of your thigh, teasing you just enough to leave you breathless. He pulled back just slightly, his face hovering above yours, his eyes scanning your flushed expression with a mixture of fondness and wicked delight.

“You look so cute when you’re flustered,” he murmured, his tone soft but with that same edge. “But you’re not ready for the things I want to do to you, are you?”

Your breath caught in your throat, but you met his gaze, determined not to back down completely. “Try me,” you whispered, though your voice was shaky.

Sylus chuckled again, leaning down to kiss you once more, slower this time, savoring the moment. “Oh, kitten,” he whispered between kisses, “you’re going to be so much fun.”

Sylus hovered over you, his lips barely leaving yours as he deepened the kiss, drawing out every flustered breath and soft sound you made. His hand, still trailing over your thigh, paused, fingers curling just enough to make you squirm beneath him. He pulled back, only an inch, enough to look at you with that knowing smirk—the one that told you he had complete control of the situation, no matter how much you’d tried to take charge.

“You really think you’re ready for this?” he asked, voice low, dark, but still teasing. His hand slid higher, resting on the bare skin just beneath the hem of your dress, his thumb brushing in soft circles that made it impossible to focus.

You swallowed hard, your heart hammering in your chest, but you managed to meet his gaze with more boldness than you felt. “Yea,I can handle it.”

For a second, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable. Then, his smirk softened into something more, something almost affectionate. “You’re adorable,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Trying so hard to be brave.”

Before you could respond, his hand gripped your thigh a little tighter, drawing a soft gasp from you. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your neck. “But you don’t have to pretend with me, kitten. I know exactly how to get under your skin.”

The teasing lilt in his voice sent a thrill through you, and though you wanted to hold onto that boldness, the way his fingers danced across your skin made it impossible to keep up the act. Your breath quickened, and you could feel the heat rising in your face as his touch became more deliberate, more confident.

“See?” he murmured, his lips brushing over your collarbone, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. “You’re already trembling, sweetie. I told you… you’re not ready for this.”

His words were a challenge, but they weren’t mocking. It was as if he was genuinely testing you, seeing how far you’d go before backing down. And despite the way he was unraveling you, you weren’t ready to surrender just yet.

“I can handle you,” you whispered, though the quiver in your voice betrayed your confidence.

Sylus chuckled softly, his lips moving up to your ear, the sound of his voice sending a shiver through you. “Is that right?” His hand slid even higher, fingers brushing dangerously close to places that made you gasp. “Then why do you sound so nervous, kitten?”

Your face burned, and you instinctively bit your lip to stop the soft whimper threatening to escape. But Sylus wasn’t about to let you off the hook that easily. His lips were back at your neck, pressing a lingering kiss there before whispering, “I love how quiet you get when you’re flustered. It’s like you don’t know what to do with yourself.”

You could feel the warmth of his smile against your skin and it made your pulse race even faster. His hand moved deliberately now, tracing the edge of your inner thigh, teasing but not giving you what you secretly craved. It was maddening how in control he was, how effortlessly he played with your reactions.

“You’re so easy to read, sweetie,” he said, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression both amused and intense. “I could keep this up all night, just watching you squirm.”

You couldn’t help it—your face flushed a deep red and you looked away, embarrassed by how easily he was getting to you. But Sylus wouldn’t let you escape that easily. He caught your chin between his thumb and forefinger, gently turning your face back to his.

“Don’t hide from me,” he whispered, his voice softer now, though no less intense. “I want to see every expression, every little blush. It’s too cute to miss.”

The tenderness in his words made your chest tighten, but there was still a darkness to them, a possessiveness that left you breathless. You were caught between the soft affection he was showing you and the overwhelming heat of his touch and you were losing, fast.

“I can’t…” you started, but the words fell apart as he leaned down, capturing your lips in another heated kiss. His hand slid higher, fingers teasing the edge of your underwear, and you gasped into his mouth, your body arching involuntarily toward him.

He broke the kiss just to smirk against your lips, clearly loving the way you were reacting. “Can’t what, sweetie?” he teased, his breath mingling with yours. “You were so sure you could handle it.”

Your mind was spinning, and though you’d started this, it was clear that Sylus had taken control completely. But despite how flustered you were, you didn’t want him to stop. You wanted more, even if you could barely keep up with him.

“I can handle it,” you whispered, more determined now, though your voice shook.

Sylus smiled, the kind of smile that made your heart skip a beat. He leaned down again, this time his lips brushing just beneath your ear. “You’re so stubborn, kitten. I like that about you.”

Then, his hand slid down, tracing a slow, torturous path along your inner thigh. His touch was light, teasing, just enough to leave you aching for more but never giving in completely.

“But you still have so much to learn.”

Sylus’s smirk deepened as he watched your breath hitch, every little movement you made betraying just how much he was affecting you. His fingers, still tracing delicate patterns along your inner thigh, were slow, deliberate, and maddeningly teasing. Every time he got close enough to make your heart race, he’d pull back just a little, dragging out your anticipation until it felt unbearable.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your ear as his voice dropped lower, sending a thrill down your spine. “You’re trembling already, kitten. You’re not used to this, are you? No one’s touched you like this before.”

You didn’t trust yourself to respond, but that only made his smile grow. He pressed a slow, lingering kiss to your neck, letting the heat from his lips sink into your skin. His free hand slid up to your waist, gripping just firm enough to make you arch toward him instinctively. He knew exactly how to play with your body, how to drive you wild without even giving you what you wanted.

Sylus pulled back just slightly, his eyes locking with yours, and the intensity in them made your stomach flip. He tilted his head, watching every flustered expression cross your face, drinking in the way your lips parted, the soft, breathless sounds that escaped you.

“Still think you can handle me?” he whispered, his voice rich with amusement, but his touch told a different story—it was heavier now, more intent.

You bit your lip, trying to steady your breath, but it was impossible with him this close. His fingers trailed back up your thigh, higher this time, slipping just beneath the edge of your underwear, the movement slow, teasing.

The sensation made you gasp, your body instinctively pushing closer to his. That small, desperate movement wasn’t lost on Sylus. He grinned, clearly loving how much you were craving his touch now.

“You’re not as innocent as you act, are you, kitten?” he teased, his breath warm against your skin. “Look at how you’re moving for me. You’re not shy now, are you?”

His words sent a wave of heat through you, and though you wanted to hold onto that boldness from earlier, you couldn’t deny how flustered you were under his control. Your body was betraying you, responding to every touch, every low whisper and Sylus was enjoying every second of it.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours, but he didn’t kiss you—not yet. He stayed there, close enough that you could feel his breath, the teasing proximity making your pulse quicken.

“You’re going to have to ask for it,” he whispered, his voice dark and tempting. “If you want more, sweetie, you’re going to have to tell me.”

Your mind was spinning, but the heat of the moment made it impossible to think clearly. Sylus’s hand was still tormenting you, fingers barely brushing over the sensitive skin between your legs, teasing you in a way that made it hard to form words.

“I—” you started, but the words caught in your throat as his touch grew more deliberate, his fingers moving in slow, torturous circles that left you breathless.

“Come on, kitten,” he coaxed, his lips grazing your jaw, his voice dripping with amusement. “I know you want it. Just say it.”

You could barely breathe, let alone speak, but the way he was looking at you, the way his touch had you completely at his mercy, left you no choice. “Please,” you whispered, your voice shaky.

“Please what?” he asked, his tone smug, but his touch never faltered. “You have to tell me exactly what you want.”

Your heart raced as the words hovered on the tip of your tongue, but Sylus wasn’t going to give you any relief until you said it. He waited, his touch slow and deliberate, every movement sending shocks through your body.

“I want… more,” you finally breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper.

His smirk grew, clearly satisfied with your answer. “That’s a good girl” he murmured, and without warning, his fingers slid fully beneath the fabric, pressing against the heat of your body.

The sensation made you gasp, your back arching off the bed as a wave of pleasure shot through you. Sylus’s hand moved with deliberate precision, his touch confident and unrelenting. He watched your reaction with a dark, predatory gleam in his eyes, clearly reveling in the way you responded to him.

“You’re so sensitive, kitten,” he whispered, his voice low and husky as his fingers moved in slow, torturous circles. “I could make you come just like this, couldn’t I? Just by playing with you a little.”

Your breath hitched, your body trembling beneath him, and you hated how much truth there was in his words. The heat was building inside you and the way Sylus’s fingers moved—slow but intentional, pushing you closer and closer to the edge—had you desperate for release.

But he wasn’t going to make it that easy for you.

Just when you were about to lose yourself completely, Sylus’s hand stilled, pulling back just enough to leave you breathless and aching. You let out a soft, frustrated whimper, but Sylus only smiled, leaning down to press a teasing kiss to your lips.

“Oh, sweetie,” he whispered against your mouth, his voice filled with dark amusement. “I told you, I’m not going to be gentle. I want to see just how far I can push you.”

Sylus watched you squirm beneath him, clearly enjoying the way you were unraveling under his touch. His lips ghosted over your neck, sending shivers through your body, while his hand lingered just out of reach, keeping you on edge. Your breath was coming in short, shallow gasps, your body aching for him to push you further.

“Look at you, kitten,” he murmured, his voice soft but laced with wicked intent. “So desperate already… all from a little teasing.”

You whimpered in frustration, your hips moving involuntarily toward his hand, silently begging him for more. But Sylus wasn’t going to give in that easily. He smirked against your skin, his fingers brushing lightly over the sensitive spot between your legs, but not applying enough pressure to give you what you wanted.

“I could keep you like this all night,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. “Just on the edge, begging for more. But…” His hand slid back into place, pressing more firmly now, drawing a gasp from you as he began moving again, slow and deliberate, each touch pushing you closer to the edge. “…I want to hear you scream my name.”

His fingers worked with maddening precision, moving in slow, rhythmic circles that sent jolts of pleasure through your body. Every touch, every stroke, was pushing you higher, closer to the point of no return. Your back arched off the bed, your breath coming in ragged gasps as the heat coiled tight inside you, ready to snap.

“That's it, sweetie,” Sylus whispered, his voice dark and enticing. “I can feel it. You’re so close, aren’t you?”

You could barely respond, too caught up in the overwhelming sensation building inside you. Your fingers gripped the sheets, your body trembling beneath him as his pace quickened, his touch becoming more relentless, more intense.

“Sylus…” you gasped, your voice trembling with need.

“Say it again,” he demanded, his tone both commanding and teasing. “I want to hear you say my name when you come.”

His words sent a thrill through you, and before you knew it, the wave hit you. Your body tensed, then shattered, pleasure crashing through you in overwhelming waves. You cried out his name, your voice shaky, breathless, as your body gave in to the intense release.

Sylus didn’t stop. His fingers kept moving, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until you were trembling and gasping for breath, completely undone beneath him. Only then did he slow, pulling back just enough to leave you sensitive and spent, but still aching for more.

As your body came down from the high, Sylus grinned down at you, clearly pleased with the way he had unraveled you so completely. His eyes were dark with satisfaction, and that familiar teasing smirk was back on his lips.

“You look so cute when you’re a mess like this,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement. He leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “Was that what you wanted, kitten? Or did I push you too far?”

You could barely speak, still trying to catch your breath, but Sylus didn’t need a response. He chuckled softly, his hand trailing lazily down your thigh as he watched your flushed, exhausted expression.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured, his tone both affectionate and mocking. “I’ll take it easy on you… next time.”

He pulled back slightly, his fingers still brushing over your skin in slow, teasing strokes that made you shudder even in your sensitive state. “But you’ve got a lot to learn if you think you can keep up with me.”

You looked up at him, still dazed from the intensity of your climax, and Sylus’s smirk only deepened. He leaned down, kissing the corner of your mouth before whispering against your lips, “You’re mine now, kitten. And I’m not done with you yet.”

Before you could respond, he slid his hand away completely, leaving you breathless and aching, his eyes gleaming with wicked intent

“We’re just getting started,” he teased, a satisfied chuckle escaping his lips as he watched the lingering need in your eyes. “And I’m going to enjoy every second of it.”

[katyawriteswhump]

the freak in the penthouse

Eddie became an accidental millionaire, coming up with creative content for a video game for his techy best bud Dustin. It's great at first… but not his dream. He winds up living in a hotel room, depressed he let his music hopes slip.

Steve, meanwhile, works in the hotel, and is desperately in debt for medical bills. When his boss asks him to get a male hooker for the ‘freak in the penthouse,' he can’t really let the ‘chance’ pass. After all, the 'freak' didn't look so bad to him, and he's done this kind of thing before when he had to...

Set in the early 90s with some period-typical homophobia. Shamelessly trope-y! This will probably go up to ‘E’ rated next chapter, but ‘M’ for now as this chapter isn’t too spicy yet ;)

also here on AO3 or search the tumblr tag #thefreakinthepenthouse

Chapter one: the freak

Eddie lingered in that warm, fuzzy twilight zone between sleep and wakefulness. He didn’t want to wake up.

His dream��at least, the parts of it trickling back to him—had been hot, hot, hot. He’d been killing it live to an insane sell-out crowd at the Hollywood Bowl and…

…what the hell?

More of Eddie’s dream filtered back. The part which explained his epic boner. He’d not been thrashing out a nine-minute-long power ballad. On that dream-stage, in front of that sell-out crowd, he’d been fucking a deadly hot, deadly cute guy.

Holy shit! That’s almost as unbelievable as anybody paying to come see me play.

He began to wake up for real. A keening sound escaped his throat. On the other hand, the joys of the night hadn’t quite evaporated.

Possibly because he’d gotten his nose buried in a mass of slightly sticky hair. 

He was spooning ANOTHER GUY.

The reality of last night rushed back. Every muscle in Eddie’s body locked up. Wow, wow, wow! And also, Shiiiiiit! 

Steve. That was the guy’s name. Eddie rubbed his nose in the nape of Steve’s neck, inhaling cheap hair gel.

Steve had been good. He’d kissed like a demon and offered up that to-die-for ass like a fallen angel. Eddie recalled rutting deep into Steve’s tight, pulsating body, till sweat stung his eyes. Yup, pure carnal pleasure was a decent distraction from being rich beyond your wildest dreams and too miserable as fuck to enjoy it.

On the flip-side, Eddie had few gripes about life at this particular moment. Slowly, careful not to wake Steve, Eddie crawled an arm over him, wandering fingers through the tangle of hair on Steve’s chest.

Bleeeeeep.

Steve cried, “Wha—?” and sat bolt upright, whacking Eddie’s arm out of the way. He blinked around, raking soft curls from his eyes. Damn. Steve was even cuter with his hair all natural, no longer slicked back.

Steve glanced at his watch and silenced the bleeps. “Crap! I’m on shift for breakfast. Gotta go.”

Steve was rushing around the room already, butt naked. Eddie sighed longingly at Steve’s ass. When Steve yanked some dark blue uniform pants from his knapsack and pulled them on, Eddie sighed even harder.

His focus drifted to the enormous clock-face painted directly onto the hideous pink paisley walls. 

“It’s 6 o’clock? In the morning?” He flipped his lank-feeling hair from his brow. “Uuuuugh. I’d forgotten there were two 6 o’clocks in the day.”

“Some of us have gotta earn a living.” Steve shoved his arms into a not particularly well-pressed white shirt then fiddled with the buttons at his throat. “Talking of which… Can I have my two-hundred bucks, please?”

…

Twelve hours earlier

“Got a job for you, Harrington,” said Kline, head concierge at the Beverly Hills Yorkshire. “Try not to mess this one up.”

Steve looked up from where he was emptying ashtrays into the trash. His least-loved superior drew close and dropped his usually bark-like voice to an undertone:

“Freak in the penthouse wants a hooker. Tonight. 8pm sharp.”

“Oh. Right.” Steve humoured Kline, answering in an equally conspiratorial tone. “Do I call the usual agency?”

“Hell, no. Freaks a freak! Wants a guy. Goddamn dirty queer.” Steve was still tipping ashtrays—best to always look busy when this sleazebag was around. Unfortunately, this meant Kline stuffed a note into the waistband of Steve’s pants, forcing Steve to suppress a shudder. “Deirdre gave me some numbers to call around. Whatever the dirty dogs quote, triple the number—no, quadruple it—before you tell the freak. We can turn a fat profit here. Reckon you can handle that? Or will the figures be too much for that air-brain little head of yours?”

After Kline departed, Steve pulled out the crumpled note. He stared at the numbers and chewed his lip. Fuck, fuck, FUCK. Could he really afford to pass this over?

He wasn’t allowed to wait tables in the silver-service grill anymore—he’d gotten one too many table orders muddled up. He was really feeling the pinch without those tips.

And the ‘freak’ had to be richer than God.

Dude had been shacked up in the penthouse for nearly three weeks now. That place cost over a thousand bucks a night. On the couple of occasions Steve had taken up room service, the guy had lurked in the gloom and behind a curtain of rocker hair. A pale hand with long, slender fingers offered out a ten-dollar bill.

He had to be a rockstar, right? Thought nobody had figured out what band he was in, and guys like that only buried themselves away to drink too much, do drugs, trash stuff, and… fuck whores.

Steve crumpled Kline’s note in his fist and resigned himself to it.  His medication had doubled in price this year, and he was reduced to sleeping in one of the hotel linen closets.

An extra hundred dollars or so would help a lot.

…

Eddie wished he hadn’t answered the phone. It was goddamn Dustin, berating him as ever:

“Eddie! Do I have to stick a firework up your butt or something? Suzie and I have got all the gameplay coding sorted for ‘Vecna’s Doom Quest II’ ready to rock and roll. All we want is for you to sprinkle your magic over the creative content, and we’ll be home and dry for another monster hit.”

“There’s the rub, Henderson. I’m not feeling wildly creative right now.”

“Then get out of that doily-saturated dumpster! Travel! Meet people! Honestly, what was the point of becoming a millionaire at twenty-four if you can’t enjoy yourself. If you’re still cut up about your music, then hire yourself another studio and—”

“You need to get off my back. After your hour-long lecture about how I needed to get laid, I went and did something stupid and now—”

“You did get a date?”

“No, I… Look, this is really not a good time, Henderson.” 

Eddie hung up. 

He instantly felt bad. Jesus, he spent his whole life feeling bad about something these days. 

He knew Dustin meant well. In his own arrogant-little-shit kinda way. Eddie probably should take his advice, go to a club, meet guys he’d like to date, and he would. If the thought of simply leaving the hotel didn’t shred his nerves ragged.

And there was no way he could tell Dustin he’d gone and ordered a rent boy on room service. After a couple of way-too-early-in-the-day shots of vodka, it’d seemed like a good idea. 

Not anymore.

Eddie picked up one of his many guitars, which lay propped alongside the ornate couch. He struck a miserably dissonant chord. The shady guy who’d sold it claimed it’d once belonged to Hendrix. Eddie hadn’t really fallen for that shit then paid a dumb price for it anyhow. On the off-chance it’d inspire some of that metal magic he’d let slip.

“Magic, Munson? You always sucked balls and you know it.”

Jesus, he was talking to himself now, and he knew he was wallowing. These past three weeks, it was all he’d done. Worse, he knew he was an ungrateful dick, not appreciating the journey he’d made from his uncle’s trailer to this.

Which made him hate himself even more.

He tossed the guitar down on the couch—would’ve smashed it, if not for just the teeniest chance Jimi did once deign to touch it. Instead, he punched one of the penthouse’s many fake-marble pillars, then whimpered, blowing on his damaged knuckles.

He was about to call down for ice—and to cancel his ‘date’—when the knock sounded at the door. He considered ignoring it. Then he noticed the time.

8pm.

Rent-boy o’clock.

He’d not realised the day had slid away so fast. It sure as heck dragged till now. He was still considering ignoring the knock, when it came again.

“Mister Munson?”

Eddie dithered a moment longer then went to the grand double doors and opened one a crack. 

His jaw dropped.

The guy waiting on his doormat was good-looking, for sure. Striking was the word that sprung next into Eddie’s mind. His slicked back hair was a touch too yuppy-frat-boy for Eddie’s taste. Eddie totally dug his eyeliner, though, which set off big chocolate eyes to perfection. A vest top revealed leanly muscled arms and was also cropped at his midriff to display a swatch of trim, lick-able flesh, intersected by a trail of wispy hair. His ripped jeans were so tight they might’ve been spray-painted on, and…

…he was also slightly familiar. Eddie was so busy gawking, he genuinely jumped when the guy spoke again.

“Hey. I’m Steve. You, uh, asked for—”

“Look, I was gonna call down and cancel. This was a friend’s idea.”  Yeah, blame Henderson, you snivelling coward. “I changed my mind, okay?”

“Oh.” Steve’s shoulders slumped, although something shifted in his eyes that might’ve been relief. “I’ll be off then… Oh hey, are you okay? What happened to your hand?”

Eddie had made the mistake of pinching the bridge of his nose with his puffy red fingers. “Oh, I’m fine. I whacked myself.”

“You want me to get you some ice?”

“Uuuuuh, hookers can do that?”

Steve winced slightly. “I actually work in the hotel. I mean, as a day job. Breakfast buffet, elevator, room service, odd jobs, that kinda thing.”

“Right.” That raised more questions that it answered. Eddie opted not to pry. “Thought you looked familiar. You look different out of—”

“Out of the shitty bellboy outfit?” Steve rolled those way too pretty eyes, and dumped a bulging knapsack by the doors. “I’ll grab that ice.”

…

Steve dashed to the nearest ice-dispenser, grabbed a first-aid kit too. He rushed back to the penthouse. His heart raced, and he felt kinda flushed, despite the arctic setting on the air con.

Up close, the ‘freak’ was pretty good-looking, if slightly Goth-y and pale. And Steve had to get out of the nasty-ass habit of thinking of him as ‘the freak.’ Now he’d gotten face-to-face with the guy, it seemed mean and douchy.

One of the doors was ajar when he returned. Eddie sat on one of several luxuriant couches, his head in his hands. The place smelled faintly of weed, but nothing worse. Steve coughed, cleared his throat: “Got the ice, Mister Munson, Sir.”

“Jesus, none of that shit. It’s Eddie.”

“Wow. My favourite name.”

Eddie snorted. “Horseshit.”

Steve wrapped some ice chips in a napkin, sat down beside Eddie, who downed a glass of clear liquid that Steve suspected was vodka. Then, hesitantly, Eddie stretched out an elegant, long-fingered hand. Steve took it one of his and pressed the ice to Eddie’s swollen knuckles. Eddie appeared reluctant to look him in the eye, which made Steve feel dead awkward too.

He noticed a massive crack in one of the pillars. Had to be recent. Plaster dust sprinkled the otherwise immaculate Persian carpet beneath.

“You wanna talk about it?” he said, returning his attention to Eddie’s hand. “Did you have an argument with your girlf… boyfriend.”

“Ain’t got no one, brother. Went and ordered you, didn’t I?”

Steve felt like he’d been slapped. Yeah, he’d been ordered on room service, like a platter of meat. Okay, he’d kinda chosen this but… Choices, real choices, had been out of his league for what felt like forever.

He gritted his teeth. “You want me to bandage this, or should I just leave?”

That got Eddie looking up sharply. “Leave?”

“You said you were gonna cancel? Not in the groove for booty calls, huh?”

Steve watched Eddie’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. He tugged his hand away from Steve, picked up the glass with tips of those delicious fingers and offered it to Steve. “Changed my mind. Drink?”

“I feel I should pour, right?” said Steve, nerves fizzing.

Eddie was finally looking at him again, eyes narrowed to simmering slits: “If you like.”

...

anyone here for this? <3 likes reblogs and comments much appreciated and will feed the bunnies🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕🐰💕

Chapter 2 on tumblr

Chapter 2 on AO3

I've added a hashtag #thefreakinthepenthouse for ease of finding the earlier parts. I can also tag if anybody is interested... please let me know.

zero pressure and one-off tag @sidekick-hero who kindly asked about this one in the WIP tag game and just got a surprised blurble as I'd not typed anything up then...

[serickswrites]

Once and For All III

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Warnings: kidnapping, implied future torture, restraints, gags, two whumpers

Whumpee continued to struggle and mumble around the rag in their mouth. They thrashed in the backseat, but Whumper had bound their wrists so well that there was no hope of them escaping. 

Whumper smiled as they turned to face Whumpee. “Told you I’d get you. Once and for all.”

“Couldn’t have done it without me though, could you?” Second Whumper said as they side-eyed Whumper. 

Whumper rolled their eyes. “Yes, yes, couldn’t have done it without you.” They loathed that Second Whumper had to be here. They wanted nothing more than to destroy Whumpee on their own. 

“Look, I don’t like this any more than you do,” Second Whumper began, “but I think we have to figure out how to work together.”

“I don’t do ‘together’,” Whumper said haughtily. 

“Neither do I, and yet here we are.”

“So what do you propose?” Whumper looked out the window. It was taking longer than they would have liked to get to the warehouse they had planned on hiding out in. 

“Let’s make it a game, a competition of sorts.”

“What kind of game?”

“Whoever makes Whumpee beg first wins.”

Whumpee gave a particularly loud grunt as they tipped over as Second Whumper took a corner quickly. “MMMMMHPHHHH!” They shouted around the gag. 

Whumper’s smile deepened. “Don’t worry, Whumpee, I’ll win. I always do.”

“We’ll see about that,” Second Whumper said darkly. 

“I have two rules.” 

“And they are?”

“One, you and I can’t be with Whumpee at the same time. We get our own independent time.”

“That makes sense to me,” Second Whumper nodded along. 

“And we can’t kill Whumpee.” 

“Would be hard to beg if you’re dead, eh, Whumpee?”

Whumpee glared at Second Whumper as they tried to tip themself back over. “Do we have a deal?” Whumper didn’t plan on letting Second Whumper win. And they certainly didn’t plan on letting Second Whumper end Whumpee. Because that was their job. They were going to end Whumpee once and for all. 

Tags: @its-getting-worse @ha-ha-one @painsthegame

[n3tb0t]

Hey, I'm sorry if this isn't good. It's my first time writing, and idk how to feel about it. So I hope you enjoy it. The story is based on 'The Walking Dead Game' (twdg). The main person you'll be kind of reading off of is a little girl named Fera.

CHAPTER 1, ‘A New Day’

It was a lukewarm day, though this virus was going around causing people to become man eaters. No one knew who or what caused it, people all around, freaking out, or hiding till the government fixed this outbreak. A man named Hershel Greene, Came to a rescue by saving a family and man, with a little girl. The Rogers family.

Kenny walks out of the Greene’s family barn, followed by a tall man with a little girl. “That’s my boy, Ken Junior. We call him Duck, though.” “Duck?” asked the tall man. “Yeah. Nothing bothers him. Like water off a duck’s back, y’know.”

“That’s a valuable trait lately,” he replied. “No kidding. But frankly, I think it’s because he’s dumb as a bag of hammers.”

Kenny said with a light chuckle. “Dad!” Duck yelled over hearing the conversation. “But he makes up for it with enthusiasm.”

Kenny walks up to his wife, and his kids, with the people following behind. “The word is you were on your way to Macon.” “My family is from there.” The man replied. Kenny turns to face the man. “Well, Macon’s on the way and, personally, I’d appreciate the company of a guy who can knock a couple of heads together if he has to.”

Kenny asked the man. “Sure, we’ll… Tag along.” “It’s a plan, then.”

Kenny turns his focus back to his wife and kids. “Honey, Duck, Frera, this is Lee and, uh, what’s the girl’s name?”

The girl hides behind Lee. Lee turns sight towards the girl, and then back up at Kenny. “Clementine.” “Clementine.” Kenny repeating Lee’s words. “That is a very pretty name.” Katjaa smiled. “Don’t you agree Frera?” Frera stood behind her twin brother, trying to hide. “Frera.” Katjaa said again. The young girl nodded her head in a agrement. “Thanks.” Clementine said, uncovering herself from Lee’s leg.

Hershel's son, Shawn, approaches the group. “Well, we should get to work. We’ve all seen what those things can do out there so the faster we get this fence up, the better.” “I wanna build a fence.” Duck chimed in with an excited look on his face, practicality about to explode. Shawn turns his focus towards Duck. “Yeah? Well, I need a good foreman. You can sit on the tractor and yell at me whenever I take a water break.” “On the tractor? Cool!” Shawn raises his head up to look at the group.

“Duck and I will hop to it” Duck skipped his way to the tractor, as Shawn followed behind.

Katjaa turns her gaze towards Lee. “Me and Frera can keep an eye on your little girl here on the porch. We can visit.” Clementine sits on a bale of hay next to Katjja and Frera. Kenny walks off to work on his truck, with Lee following behind. Frera eyes laid upon Clementine. “I-I like your hair, it’s pretty..” “It gets lots of tangles.” Clem commented.

“Did your daddy give you that hat?” Katjaa asked. “Mm-hmm.” Clem hummed. “Do you have any pets?”

“I have a goldfish named Peanut. Mom doesn’t like dogs.”

“We have a dog named Franklin, he’s a lab.” Frera mumbled, but still able to hear what she said, with a shy look on her face, with a slight smile. “What's your favorite color-” Katjaa was cut off by a loud agonizing scream. It was Shawn.

Hershel runs into the house to retrieve his weapon, as Lee runs toward the noise. Katjaa tried to keep Clementine and Frera away from the situation, but they both somehow managed to escape from Katjaa’s sight. They arrive at the scene, where the bloody screams come from. Shawn’s leg was stuck underneath a tractor wheel, while Duck was being pulled away from a walker. Lucky Lee and Kenny were able to get him away from the walker.

The fence that was keeping the walkers away from Shawn, eventually broke. The walkers bit down on Shawn's body, causing him to scream out in agony. Katjaa runs right in front of Clem, Duck and Frera to shield them From looking at Shawns bloody body. Hershel runs over where once Shawn’s screams were at, to find his own son lifeless corpse. Hershel crouched down in front of Shawns lifeless body. “Get out. Get the fuck out of here!” He quickly stood up facing the group.

“I’m sorry.” Kenny said with an apologetic tone. “Sorry ?! Your son is alive. You don’t get to be sorry!” Hershel turns his focus to Lee. “And you, you didn’t even try to help.”

“I thought I could help them both.” The angered old man briefly turns to Shawn's corpse. “Look at him. You thought wrong. And now…” Hershel turns away from the others. “Please, just go. Get out and never come back!”

Hershel kneels next to Shawn again. Kenny and Lee exchange glances. “You’ve got that ride to Macon if you want it.” Kenny, Katjaa, Frera and Duck walk away.

[thesakuragarnet]

Easier Than Lying

Summary: Dabi wakes up one morning to see that Hawks left his phone on the nightstand. OR DabiHawks angst oneshot inspired by Halsey's song: "Easier Than Lying".

Tags: Swearing, Paranormal-Liberation War Arc spoilers, DabiHawks angst, implied sexual content, MHA Ch350 spoilers, blood (crying, canon-typical)

Word Count: 1,027 words

AO3 link

Toya would be lying if he wasn’t suspecting it. He’d just sorely hoped he was wrong. Maybe…maybe Keigo wanted him to find out. Surely he wasn’t this stupid. It was early in the morning, and Hawks was showering before he left the Paranormal Liberation Front hideout. He’d been spending nights lately. At first, they were excuses to help with planning…but then, he started to seem more interested in something else…or rather, someone else. 

The minute a proposal of an inside mole was brought to light, Toya knew exactly who he wanted to pick. Keigo Takami: AKA Wing Hero Hawks. He knew Keigo wouldn’t recognize him. After all, his voice had changed, he’d dyed his hair, and, not to mention the piercings and the scars. He’d met Keigo Takami during his years all alone after he escaped from Ujiko’s nightmare of a child farm. Toya lived on the street, and Keigo just so happened to see him as he passed the alleyway. It was in his nature to be kind and help others, so, naturally, he’d helped Toya…for a little while at least. That is…until Toya learned who Keigo was aspiring to be. Then, he dropped even further off the grid; he packed up what little he had, took the bus, and left the city.

Still…Toya knew Keigo’s upbringing. Once he was exposed to the corruption within, surely he’d want to change everything. Surely , he’d see their side of things. 

And so, Dabi got Hawks alone to talk. They met by themselves a few times, building up trust. After the incident in Kyushu, the tension snapped. A few days later, they became… more than accomplices. It was short at first. An innocent flirt here, a lingering touch there. Then, Hawks was regularly spending late nights in Dabi’s bed, leaving before the sun rose so he could go back to his precious Agency.  

But now, their enemies to lovers game is splintering. Toya’s already hardened heart cracks as he reads the text message that crawls across Hawks’ phone screen. It’s from the Commission Leader. 

When Hell breaks loose, kill the Doubler. 

Twice had taken a specific liking to Hawks. He didn’t view him as close a comrade as Toga, but he wanted to be friends nonetheless. Hawks seemed to act the same…what a fucking joke. Toya knew it to be true. Hawks himself had turned into a corrupted Commission puppet. What a fucking waste of potential. But, could he even blame him? After all, he idolized Endeavor . That was the only rationalization. He should’ve seen it from the beginning.

Toya carefully places the phone back on the nightstand, facedown like it was moments ago before he saw the thin veil of light beneath the object. Toya shuts his eyes as the scars beneath them start to burn, and he presses between the staples, feeling the slightest amount of blood wet his fingertips as it seeps out. He’d need to change out his staples once Hawks left; he can’t believe he let the stupid bird have such a hold over him. 

‘Guess I should be glad we decided not to tell each other our real names. Fucking traitor,’ Toya thinks to himself as he hears the water shut off. He sloppily wipes the blood off on the sheets beneath his pillow to avoid suspicion before the Pro opens the bathroom door. Hawks is back in his Pro Hero Suit, and he pulls up his golden visor as he approaches the bed. 

“Oooh, almost forgot,” He mutters under his breath as he pockets his phone. Toya sits up and points to the headphones that are hanging on the bedpost. 

“You’re gonna forget those, too,” The villain sniffs in his normal dry tone; it was eerie how easily he could mask his emotions. 

“I’d leave my head here if you didn’t remind me,” Hawks laughs, tilting forward and putting his hands on the mattress as Dabi stares at him. He wants nothing more than to roast the bird alive, but, if the hero can play dumb, so can he. Hawks starts to lean in, closing his eyes, but Dabi keeps his eyes wide open during the Judas kiss. He used to crave this feeling, but, now, it just fills him with pure rage. His face feels hot as he kisses the hero back, willing to keep up the ruse. Hawks gently cups the side of Dabi’s face, his gloved thumb ever so slightly brushing up against his scars. Toya swallows the urge to flinch at the once-comforting sensation, and, instead, wraps his arms around the Pro, his hand snaking up under his coat and his shirt, traveling subtly until he firmly presses his palm against the small of his back. Toya glares at Keigo’s eyelids with such intense betrayal and enmity that, for a moment, he considers killing him then and there.

All at once, Toya harshly bites Keigo’s bottom lip and slightly activates his Quirk, branding his handprint into the hero’s lower back. 

“FUCK!” Keigo cries out, shoving himself away from Dabi, who changes his facial expression the moment Hawks’ eyes fly open. He smirks devilishly at Keigo as he grimaces, peeking in the mirror at the damage as he lifts up his shirt. 

“Aw, what’s the matter? Can’t handle a little pain?” Dabi snickers, hiding the venom in his voice. 

“I’m not fireproof, Dabs. Be gentle for fuck’s sake,” Hawks grumbles, harshly tugging his shirt back down and straightening his jacket. 

“Make sure you put on a good show, today, Birdbrain. Seven days until our big finale,” Dabi remarks as Hawks walks to the bedroom door, snatching his headphones on the way out. Right as he turns the knob, out of habit, Toya blurts:

“Stay safe, Birdbrain. I love you.” 

‘I loved you…’ 

Hawks pauses before looking over his shoulder with a smile. 

“I’ll see you tonight. I love you, too.”

He opens the door and shuts it behind him, leaving Dabi alone in the silent darkness. A chill runs down Toya’s spine as his glowing cerulean eyes burn, staring at the door frame. 

“No, you don’t. I don’t think you ever did.” 

[taelonsamada]

Tag Game - Five Things You Might Find In My Writing

I was tagged by @ejunkiet and @sealriously-sealrious for this fun sounding game!! It had me studying my writing and noticing a couple repeating themes I’d never noticed XD

Tagging @dominimoonbeam @lovelylonerliterature @glassbearclock @romirola and @zozo-01 as well as anyone reading this who wants to take part!!

~~~~~

Spice/Smut - Right off the bat, gonna start with the obvious XD I am a huge fan of writing the sexy fun times LOL I find it to be a wonderful means of connecting two souls together, and I believe physical intimacy is one of the fastest ways to learn the true nature of someone. It’s often the state we are the most vulnerable in, and takes a deep amount of trust. I adore exploring that kind of relationship. Plus sex is fun LOL

Trauma/Healing From Trauma - This moreso relates to my original work than my fics, but has been known to show up there too LOL I enjoy writing broken characters. But it’s not just for shock value. I like taking their pieces and slowly healing them, helping them rebuild themselves into something stronger. I like showing how we can be damaged, but that doesn’t make us beyond hope.

Banter - Playful, snarky dialogue is easily one of my favourite things to write. I absolutely adore scenes where the sass and sparks fly between two characters. Witty jokes, snappy jabs and teasing quips are a wonderful way to show off chemistry between two characters.

Pining - Whether it’s onesided or returned, there’s very little I enjoy more than having a character giving moon eyes to the one they adore. Having that tension and desire building until it’s impossible to deny. The longer the build, the better. Those nervous touches, shy glances, two characters leaning in towards each other slowly without even being conscious of it until they catch themselves and back away… Oh, it’s fantastic.

Happy Endings - No, not the naughty kind (although those as well, yes lol) One thing I keep stressing with all my writing is that for however much pain I put characters through, they will always recover. They will always heal. They will always be comforted and end up happier than when they’d started. Life itself is hard enough, I will always use my writing as a means to escape that and paint a wonderful happy ending for others.

♥️ This was so much fun 🥰

[trashpandafiction]

We Survive (2)

Summary: What happens when the Behavioral Analysis Unit comes across a situation they weren’t trained for? When the dead begin to roam the Earth, it challenges the BAU to something they’ve never dealt with before: the apocalypse. Along their journey for survival, they come across Rick Grimes and his group of survivors. Among the survivors is Jocelynn Russo, who thinks that the new group could be helpful to them. Things seem to go well until an unexpected enemy appears. Will Negan and the Saviors be the one thing to break the groups, or will they be able to defend themselves? All anyone knows is they have one common goal; to survive. Pairings: None yet. Word Count: 3,844 Warnings: Mentions of guns. A/N: Hopefully this chapter is decent. I changed the main conflict from the first version of this story to make a bit more sense, but I'm still iffy on it. That's probably just my insecurities though, I don't know. If you’d like to be tagged in future updates, just let me know! Please do not redistribute my work without my permission! Reblogging is fine with credit intact.

Two - A Narrow Escape

Penelope stood by the window; arms crossed over her chest. She let out a sigh and shook her head some as she still saw no sign of the others. The sun had already started setting, and that meant that it would be harder for the group to get back. Not that she thought that they would get lost, but who knew what else would be out there? They might have run into some of the dead, or they might have run into people who weren’t as kind as they were. Anything could have happened, and it was making her mind race. For once, she hated the fact that she had the job she did; she had too many scenarios going through her head and none of them were positive.

“Haven’t you heard the one about a watched pot never boiling?” JJ’s voice spoke up from beside Penelope.

She jumped slightly and looked over at the other blonde and sighed. “JJ, they should have been back by now. We all agreed on sundown, does no one else remember that deal?”

JJ gave a small smile before speaking. “Maybe there were more places to check than they expected. They could have found another camp, and maybe they’re talking to another group. I’m sure they’re going to be just fine.”

“Statistically, it’s more likely that they’ll come into contact with the dead than the living anyway. I mean, just on our journey alone, we’ve seen more dead people walking than we’ve seen living people walking.” Spencer spoke up from the beat-up couch in the center of the room. He and David had started a game of cards with a deck they found in a desk drawer and were playing by the light of a small lantern.

The women both looked over at Spencer, and JJ smirked. “Thanks, Spence.” She looked at Penelope and put a hand on her shoulder. “Why don’t we just find something to occupy ourselves with while we wait, okay? They’re going to be fine.”

Penelope looked at JJ and nodded. “While I think that occupying ourselves is easier said than done, I will gladly take any option over staring out this window and waiting for their late arrival.” She said simply before moving to sit on the couch next to David.

A bit of a way from the cabin, Aaron, Emily, and Derek all walked back, keeping their senses high for anything that might cause them any issues. They hadn’t found much, but they did manage to find a few cans of food and a couple of water bottles that were half-filled. It wasn’t much, but it was at least enough to get everyone a bit more motivated to keep going. At least, that was what they were hoping for.

“It can’t be much further; this is that broken tree we saw on the way out.” Emily spoke up, looking at Aaron and Derek.

“I’d say we’re about fifty yards out.” Derek estimated. “We should get back there before the sun is completely down.” he added, carrying the bag of supplies on his shoulder. “How pissed do you think Penelope’s gonna be?” he asked with a small smirk.

“I’m sure if you throw a couple ‘baby girls’ at her, all will be forgiven.” Emily retorted. Even with the situation they were in, Emily appreciated that the group kept up their banter and the normalcy it brought. It was likely their only defense against their real feelings about everything.

“That’s it up there.” Aaron spoke up, pointing towards a small orange glow coming from a cabin window. “We should stay quiet, just in case there’s anyone in the area; living or dead.” he said, taking his gun out of the holster.

Derek and Emily took Aaron’s lead, heading towards the cabin. After checking to make sure that the area was clear, they headed to the door to knock three times, their way of letting the group know that it was them. The door flew open, and Penelope wrapped her arms around Derek and Emily’s necks.

“You’re all late, and don’t think you’re getting out of an angry hug, Aaron Hotchner.” Penelope said before letting go of Emily and Derek, and hugging Aaron tightly. “I was worried sick about you all.”

Derek chuckled and returned Penelope’s hug before coming inside and setting the bag down on the dusty coffee table. “Glad to know we were missed.” he said and nudged Spencer on the shoulder.

Aaron hugged Penelope back and gave a small smile. “We ended up finding a second place to search, and that’s what took so long.” He explained. He entered the cabin and shut the door behind him.

JJ smirked and hugged the three who had just returned. “We tried out best to keep her occupied.” She joked. “Were you guys able to find anything out there?” she asked, crossing her arms as she sat on the armrest next to David.

Aaron nodded. “We were able to find a few things, but not very much. Did you four have any trouble here while we were gone?” he asked, standing in front of the coffee table to face his team.

David shook his head as he looked through the bag that they had brought back. “Nothing out of the ordinary, given the circumstances.” He said and nodded to himself as he saw the water bottles and cans of food. “We should save these for the morning.” He suggested.

Derek nodded and looked over at Aaron as he wrapped an arm around Penelope’s shoulders. “If nothing came up while we were gone, this is probably a safe spot for the night. As long as we take sleeping in shifts like we have been, keep the noise quiet, we should be good.” He shrugged.

“We should try and keep the lantern on as little as possible, even the slightest bit of light could be enough to attract the undead.” Spencer said, looking up at his team members. “Did you guys manage to find any neighborhoods or signs of towns on your trip?” he asked.

“Not that we saw but given the fact that there was a gas station and an old diner, I’d say that there is probably a suburb somewhere around here. It’s just a matter of finding which direction we should go.” Emily said.

David nodded and then spoke up. “Well why don’t we get some sleep tonight, recharge, and then tomorrow we’ll refuel and see if we can’t find a town or something along the way.” He looked over at the group and then cleared his throat. “I’ll take the first watch.” He said standing up to pull a stool over to the window so he could watch what was happening outside while the others slept.

Aaron spoke up again after agreeing with David. “I’ll take next watch, then Derek, Emily, JJ, Spencer, and then Penelope. I don’t know if we’ll need everyone, but let’s plan on it.” he said and looked around the cabin’s living room. “Find somewhere comfortable, I know it’s not the ideal situation, but we’re going to make do.”

The rest of the team started to spread through the room to find a place to sleep for the night. JJ, Penelope, and Emily all sat together on the couch to sleep, while the guys found different places on the floor. They used old blankets and their own jackets and shirts as pillows to bring some comfort to themselves. David got the lantern off and started his shift as the rest of the team fell into a light sleep.

The shifts went well, and when it was time for Penelope to take her shift, the sun was just beginning to rise. She and Spencer both agreed that it was fine to let the group sleep in a bit, knowing that the team wouldn’t mind a bit of extra sleep. After everything that they had been through, that was a luxury to them. Just as Spencer was getting ready to lie down, there was a strange noise outside of the cabin, a small rumble almost. He looked out the window and narrowed his eyes a bit to see what the noise was. Outside of the cabin, there was a decent sized group of undead, and they were heading towards the cabin. Before he could turn to tell the rest of the group, there was a loud thud against the back door.

Penelope flinched at the noise and looked at Spencer, who had already grabbed his gun. “Should we just let them pass?” she whispered.

Spencer opened his mouth to respond, but heard another thud, followed by the sound of creaking wood; they were persistent, and the cabin door wasn’t going to hold. He moved to the back door and held the door as best as he could.

The noises were enough to wake the rest of the team, who were all getting their weapons ready and assessing their situation. There had to be about fifty of them outside, and more could have been coming. Aaron had his gun in his hand as Derek helped Spencer hold the door. Everyone else went to the windows to see if they could get any good shots.

“If we can get them all to the back door, we’ll be able to make it out the front door and towards the road.” Aaron said, holding his gun as he watched the undead start to surround the cabin. “The gunshots are just going to draw them into us and possibly attract more.”

Derek nodded and groaned as he held the door shut with Spencer. “We need to get their attention to this side of the cabin and get the door to hold long enough for us to get out the front.” He said.

Spencer nodded and worked with Derek to hold the door shut. He looked around the room and noticed a window above the door. He looked next to him and saw a counter that he could stand on. “I’ve got a flare in my bag which might work, but I’ll need to get up on the counter so I can toss it out of that window.”

David walked over and helped Derek with the door. “Go grab it but be fast. Once they start heading this way, they’re gonna be stronger against the door.”

Spencer headed over to his bag and pulled out the flare. He had been saving it in case they needed to flag down a rescue unit, but they were past the point of being rescued. He got it ready and headed over to the counter.

“Spence, just be careful.” JJ spoke up from the front of the room.

He gave a nod before climbing onto the counter and opening the window. He lit the flare and held it out of the window for a moment, getting the attention of the undead. The light and hissing sound of the flare started to attract a few of them, but if he was going to get them all towards the back, he needed to change his plan. With his other hand, he grabbed his gun, aiming at a nearby tree and shooting twice.

Penelope and JJ looked out the side windows. “It’s working; they’re heading to the back.” JJ said.

“Spencer, you’re gonna have to hold the flare up there until the last minute.” Aaron said reluctantly. “It’ll keep their attention long enough for us to get out before they realize what’s going on.”

Derek looked up at Spencer and then at Aaron. “Everyone, get ready to go, when I say the word, you guys head out, then Spence, then David and I.” he said.

Emily helped JJ and Penelope get the bags together while Aaron kept an eye on the windows to make sure that the undead were heading towards the back. “Spencer, fire one more shot to keep their attention.” He said.

Spencer nodded and shot once more into the tree. The undead continued to head towards the sound, but that put more strain on the door for Derek and David.

          “This door isn’t gonna hold much longer, Hotch.” Derek said, looking around the room to find something to block the door and buy them some time.

Emily came into the kitchen and helped hold the door while Aaron thought up a quick change in plan. “If we can move the coffee table to brace the door it could buy us enough time.” He said.

“Spence, let me take the flare, you go help Hotch.” Emily said. She climbed up onto the counter beside him and carefully took the flare from him, continuing to hold it out the window.

Spencer went into the living room and helped Aaron get the coffee table cleared quietly so they could take it into the kitchen and barricade the door. As they picked up the table, the back door let out a loud crack as it started to give way.  Emily dropped the flare onto the crowd outside the door, hoping it would slow them down.

“Change of plan. We’re gonna take as many out as we can on our way out.” Derek said.

          “We have to preserve ammo, we don’t have enough bullets left to take them all out.” Aaron argued.

          “They’re starting to come back to the front.” Penelope said, grabbing the bags with JJ.

          “Hotch, you four head to the road, we’ll be right behind you. We’ll only use what we need and head out. We don’t have time for a debate.” He said, getting his gun out while David reached for his. “Count of three. One…”

          Aaron opened the front door and let JJ lead the way. Penelope followed, and then Spencer. Aaron looked back at David, Derek and Emily, giving them the option to back out.

          “Two…..go, Hotch!” Derek ordered.

          As Derek yelled ‘three’, Aaron followed Spencer outside and took out the few stragglers who had headed towards the front of the cabin. Gunshots could be heard from the back of the cabin and then there was a crash. The gunfire stopped for a moment, only to pick up a moment later. Two guns were firing for a moment, and then the gunfire stopped again, the only sound coming from the cabin being groans and hisses.

“Hotch, we have to go in there.” JJ said.

Aaron looked around the area and could already see more of the undead coming towards the sounds. As much as he wanted the four of them to go inside and help their friends, it was a suicide mission. They were outnumbered and didn’t have much ammo left; they only had the option to run. “We can’t win this fight, if we go in there, we’ll all be killed.”

“Well, what about them? We could still save them. We have to try.” She argued.

Penelope looked at the cabin and shook her head as she saw some of the undead heading towards the front door. “They’re coming towards us.” she said softly.

“It’s a suicide mission.” Aaron said sternly. He looked at the cabin and then back at JJ. “I don’t like the decision either, but we need to move.” He said with the slightest evidence of a crack in his voice.

They all looked at the cabin before taking off running towards the road. None of them wanted to look back, but they could tell how far they were getting as the groans and noises from the undead started to fade out. When they got to the road, they stopped to regroup, none of them wanting to say anything.

Aaron looked at the ground and then at the team. “There’s a high chance that more of them will be heading towards the sound. We need to head towards the gas station we found yesterday; we can figure things out when we get there.”

Penelope looked into the woods, hand on her chest. The thought that they had just lost three of their own hadn’t fully set in, but she felt numb. How was she going to get through the rest of this? She didn’t want to lose anyone.

“I shouldn’t have let her take my place.” Spencer spoke up. “I could have been up there, I’m quicker on my feet.” He spoke.

JJ looked at Spencer and shook her head, putting a hand on his cheek. “Spence, she didn’t give you much of a choice. Now isn’t the time to put blame on anyone, especially yourself.” She said.

Aaron looked at them and spoke up. “We need to get moving. We can follow the road, but we should stay in the trees a bit to stay out of sight.”

Penelope wiped a tear from her eye and nodded. “I’m sure they’re just fine. They found a way out of there, they always do.” She said, trying to convince herself more than anyone.

Spencer couldn’t even bring himself to spout off a statistic this time around. “Hotch is right, we should get moving. There’s likely more headed this way.” He nodded.

The group crossed the road and into the trees on the side of the road to hide from anyone passing by, but still stay on the same path. They started walking towards the gas station, none of them uttering a sound. It was almost hard to believe what had just happened; it was all so fast, and now they were three people down. If anything, it showed them that none of them were safe and that in a moment, everything could change. For now, they all headed to the gas station to make their next plan; it was all they could do to keep themselves from breaking down.

--------

Jocelynn had finished dinner and was heading back to her house when she saw a light on in the supply garage. She furrowed her brow a bit before heading over to see if someone was in there, or if Olivia had just left the light on. As she turned the corner and looked inside, a small smile came to her face.

Rick was standing to the side, looking over the inventory notebook and glancing at the shelves every so often. His hand reached and rubbed his chin some as he looked over the list.

 “You know, Olivia counted everything earlier, and she probably did it twice.” She spoke up, stepping into the garage.

He looked over at her and chuckled, shaking his head. “I know she did, and everything is here and accounted for. I just can’t help thinking that there could be more out there, you know? Maybe we’re not looking in enough places.” He mused.

She nodded and gave him a small smile. “We’ll find some more places. Maybe we can go a bit further out on the next run.” She suggested with a shrug.

Rick looked up at her and raised a brow. “We?” he asked her, closing the notebook and setting it back on the desk against the garage wall. “Is that your way of asking to go on this next run?” he asked, trying to keep a straight face.

A light blush crept across her cheeks and a soft laugh escaped her lips. “Could be my attempt at a stealthy hint” She said, looking up at him.

“Stealthy?” he asked, earning a nod from her. He smirked and shook his head some. “Yeah, I suppose you can come along. I’ll see who else wants to go with us and we can make a day of it.” He half joked as he headed to the garage door.

“Sounds like a fun day.” she joked back as she followed him out of the garage. She helped him pull the door down and then put her hands on her hips. “Two days?” she asked as he locked the garage.

“Two days.” Rick repeated. “We’ll head out when the sun rises and see how far we can get. Hopefully we can find some new places.”

“Maybe some new people.” she added softly, moving her hands to her sides. She knew that he had been a bit reluctant to let new people in, especially after a few incidents in the past; but she thought that maybe it was time.

He looked at her and shrugged, then looked down at his hands as he toyed with his watch. “We can cross that bridge when we come to it.” He said and looked back up at her.

She nodded and smiled a little. “I’ll hold you to it, Sheriff.” she teased, nudging his arm gently. “Try and get some sleep, okay? You don’t always have to worry about everything all the time.” She said as she headed towards her house.

“Yeah, and you don’t need to worry about me worrying.” he countered as she walked towards her house, a crooked grin on his face.

As he headed back to his own house, he ran a hand through his hair and let out a sigh. He knew that she was right about bringing in new people, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to bring new people in. On one hand, they could use the extra help and extra hands, but on the other hand, they weren’t in a good position to defend themselves against the wrong people getting in. He headed into his house and checked on Carl and Judith before heading to bed for the night.

Jocelynn headed into her house, and to her room. She sat on the bed and pushed her hair back before laying back against her pillows. She hated the nighttime because she always had a hard time falling asleep. Her mind raced, and memories of what she had been through filled her head and often left her with nightmares. Of course, ever since she met up with Rick’s group, they seemed to be a bit better, but they hadn’t fully gone away. As she lay in bed, her mind started to wander to the upcoming run. It would be helpful if they had some help on the run, but at the same time, she wanted to spend some time with just Rick. She wouldn’t admit to him that she wanted to spend time with him alone, but she also wouldn’t say no if the opportunity came about. She let out a sigh as her mind started to race about the possible outcomes of being alone with him. It was something that she wanted, but what if he didn’t want the same thing?

“Just go to sleep, Joce.” she mumbled to herself as she turned over in her bed. She closed her eyes and changed her thoughts to the upcoming run.

Maybe they would find a good place for supplies, somewhere that hadn’t already been looted. Maybe they’d even find some people to bring into the group. Maybe they’d find both or nothing at all. Before long, she was fast asleep, dreaming of the run and what could possibly happen. She hoped that the actual run would go better than the dream, but she could only hope. That’s all anyone could do these days.

[puppyduckster]

Thanks for the tag @celestemagnoliathewriter :)))

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

21

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

42, 467

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Predominantly Harry Potter, but I’ve also written for Malcolm in the Middle, the Calpurnia Tate Series, The Hunger Games, Divergent, Swan Princess(1994), the American Girls series, Anne with an E, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and the Peanuts comics. With the exception of the Calpurnia Tate series- I only have one fic from those other fandoms and a couple of them(like my Hunger Games and Divergent one) are just short one shot pieces I wrote years ago and just decided to put on AO3.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

1. Over and Over- 67 kudos

2. A Little Game of Envy- 52 kudos

3. Sweaters and Letters- 41 kudos

4. Shattered Hearts- 35 kudos

5. Of Disgraceful Sons and Burnt Tapestries- 32 kudos

(All my AO3 fics are only available to AO3 members at the moment)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

For the most part I do :) I don’t really have notifications for AO3 turned on(mainly to try and not clutter up my inbox more than it already is lol), but I check my fics sometimes and will try to respond when I can 🤷‍♀️

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably Mea Culpa- It’s a short one shot of Sirius in Azkaban. It’s set long before PoA, so Sirius has no hope of escaping at that point. He’s also being tormented by the ghosts of his past, so it’s really just a bad situation for him all around.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I would say One July Morning - It’s a short one shot about the day Harry was born and I wrote it purely for the fluff XD

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I haven’t on AO3, but I’ve gotten a couple comments on FFNet that weren’t the most polite ones. I usually just ignore them, but I would delete them if I thought they were really bad.

9. Do you write smut?, if so- what kind?

Nope- no offense to those who do(I’ve read smut myself after all lol) but I prefer writing platonic and familial(think sibling and parent/child relationships) relationships at the end of the day :)

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

I haven’t written any at the moment, but who knows what could happen 🤷‍♀️? My MITM fic is technically a Groundhog Dsy style fic, but I only used the part about the time loop and nothing else(and tbh time loop stories are nothing new, so I have no idea if that counts or not XD)

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

To my knowledge I have not

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I had someone on FFNet ask if they could translate my fic(with credit), but I’m not sure if they ever did it or not. In general- I’m alright with it, just as long as they credit me somewhere :)

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

A few times, but not on AO3

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Probabaly Romione with Jily being a close second :)

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Well my only major WIP is my Over and Over fic at the moment. It’s a Malcom in the Middle fic where Malcom is forced to live the same day over and over again(Groundhog Day style lol). I really do want and intend to finish it, but it’s just been hard to find time and motivation at the moment 🤷‍♀️ One of these days lol

16. What are your writing strengths?

I would say writing a character’s inner dialogue and writing familial dynamics(particularly between siblings I think lol)

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Writing descriptions of places. I can’t describe anything properly to save my life. My characters could find themselves in some beautiful, wonderful, and massive castle and I would struggle to properly describe it. I’m also not a huge fan of writing action scenes and I too have no real writing schedule to speak of XD

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another lanaguge for a fic?

I don’t know any other langauages besides English sadly(I’d love to learn at least basic Spanish and/or French one day though). Normally I’d use Google Translate if I need to translate something(usually just a few sentences at most) or I would ask someone for help if they knew the language I needed for the fic. I don’t have anything against writing dialogue in a other lanaguge(besides not really being able to speak other languages lol), but I haven’t really had a need to do it that much tbh.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

On AO3?- Harry Potter and I believe it was Harry Potter outside of AO3 too :)

20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written?

I really like my Swan Princess two shot- A Little Game of Envy(which I’m toying with adding a third part lol). It’s my way of trying to add some context to how Odette and Derek could have gone from hating each other to falling in love. The movie hints at it in the first song, but doesn’t really develop it beyond a line or two. Which is a shame, because I think that movie could be a good Enemies/Childhood Rivals to Lovers story if it was just developed more 🤷‍♀️. I wanted to explore that aspect of being in denial of one’s feelings/seeing how one’s feelings could change and thus that fic was born. I’m not a huge fan of writing romance, but there’s something about the pre stage(where the characters are either in denial or just unable to make a move for whatever reason lol) that I really enjoy XD

Tagging anyone who wants to do this :)

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thanks for the tag @merlins-sequined-hotpants!

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

108

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

2,129,527

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Harry Potter. I have a couple neglected Pride & Prejudice fanfics that may never be posted, but we'll see.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The Nymph of House Black. 819 kudos.

The Wizard, the Wolf, and the Son. 579 kudos.

The Nymph of House Tonks. 571 kudos.

Cariad. 513 kudos.

Moonlit Marriage. 300 kudos.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to whenever I can. Every so often I get a commenter on every chapter with emojis, or just a word or two, so I will thank them every few comments.

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably Father and Son. Teddy Lupin has his own son and still can't understand why his parents left him for the Battle of Hogwarts.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Other than fluffy one-shots, I think Real, Real Love.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Sometimes. Negative reviews happen more often on FFN. The other day I got a comment on AO3 from an anon/guest that just read "Why would you write this?" on an angst fic. I replied "Because I wanted to" and left it at that.

9. Do you write smut. If so, what kind?

YES. I've really only written M/F. I've thought of dabbling in F/F, as M/M doesn't seem to interest me much. Either way, I generally like writing steamy scenes that are romantic and loving.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

No, and I don't think I ever will. Though maybe this Furby fic counts as a crossover. IDK.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Stolen? Ehhh I've seen a translation of one of my fics on Wattpad, but I don't really care about that.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

The Nymph of House Black has an ongoing Spanish translation, La ninfa de la Casa Black, though I don't think it will be finished. I'm not the translator, though I could be.

13. Have you ever cowritten a fic before?

Not yet.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Remadora!!! 💖🐺

15. What's a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Probably one of my Pride and Prejudice ones. Or, one of my completely self-indulgent, unhinged self insert Harry Potter fics.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I want to say plot and conveying a wide range of emotions. I can bring readers to tears of joy or pain, to heartaches and fuzzy feelings, and to awkwardness and comfort, and that's something I'm proud of.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I used to call it poetic prose, or 'pretty' prose, but I think what I'm weak at is what I'd now call 'atmospheric writing'. I don't tend to set a mood with the prose itself, or the description of a location.

Also, my writing schedule has gone to pieces. I severely overestimate my abilities and time.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Depends on the language! I'm fluent in Spanish, but unluckily for me there are no Spanish speakers in the Harry Potter series, at least not explicitly canon ones. I'm reasonably proficient in French, so I feel okay with that, but it's not something I do on the regular. I'm comfortable with Latin.

19. First Fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter, intentionally. Twilight, unintentionally.

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

It's hard to pick a favorite! Even though it's nowhere near my best work, Collide. It's what kicked off my fanfic. I legit thought that was the *only* story I'd ever write. How naive of me.

Tagging @puppyduckster @thecasualauthor18 @pixiedustandpetrichor @midnightstargazer @leogichidaa and anyone else who wants to join!

[avanatural]

Mind Games

Part 3

Series summary: Set in 1984. It’s that time of the year – the supes are having the time of their lives at the Herogasm festival. Soldier Boy seems to have taken a special interest in Y/N, a fellow superhero.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x female Reader

Category: Angst, smut, 18+

Word count: 3.4k

Warnings: Alcohol use, cursing, violence, explicit sexual content, Soldier Boy being abusive towards his team

A/N: This part contains smut! Do not read if you’re under the age of 18! Otherwise, I hope you enjoy! Wanna be added to my Soldier Boy tag list? Send me an ask!

Part 2 | Series Masterlist | Soldier Boy Masterlist | Part 4

Main Masterlist

So, yes, this is the story of how I wanted to give Soldier Boy a piece of my mind and ended up in his fucking trailer instead. To be honest, his trailer was pretty simple for Vought standards – at least for Vought standards how I imagined them. Then again, Soldier Boy did seem to be the practical type.

The two of us were sat at a table, a bottle of whiskey between us. Soldier Boy had taken off his gloves, giving me a good view of his large hands. I could see the veins on the backs, the callouses on the tips of his fingers. His fingernails were cut short, and remained clean despite doing fight scenes in the dirt all day.

“So… Did you enjoy my performance on Solid Gold?”, Soldier Boy asked cockily, lifting one of his enormous hands and snatching the bottle of whiskey from the table.

“It disturbed me, actually,” I admitted absentmindedly as I let my eyes roam his trailer some more. He had a small kitchenette, and a couch in the back. Not much else. Practical, indeed.

His brows moved up, creasing. “Disturbed you?”, he repeated and took a long swig of alcohol. He winced afterwards, a quick hiss leaving his mouth. “That was a fucking compliment! Most women would have been flattered.”

When my gaze met his again, he was staring right into my soul, offended. Oh boy, his ego was fragile.

“I thought you were out to get me or something,” I admitted. Among supes, it was hard to tell whether someone was friend or foe.

“Ha!”, he exclaimed and lifted his chin, “Maybe I am.”

“Maybe I’m out to get you, you ever thought of that?”, I blurted, quick to mentally curse myself for my recklessness. What, did I have a death wish?

The corner of his lips twitched, making me wonder if he was about to laugh or lash out. His gaze tended to hold such intensity that he was hard to read. After a short pause, he finally said, “They should call you Mindfuck.”

A spontaneous chortle escaped my mouth, prompting him to laugh along. I’d never heard him laugh before. It was a low, throaty, warm sound that erupted from deep within his chest. It was pleasant.

“I think I’m gonna stick to Trouble, thanks,” I retorted and took the bottle from him to take another sip. I noticed how his gaze didn’t leave my face. I felt hot. An embarrassing warmth spread across my cheeks. How old was I, 13?

“How the hell did you get that fucking name, anyway?”, he inquired, scooting closer, his eyes bright with wonder. “It’s not the kind of name a lady usually goes for.”

“What, because ladies have to be pleasant?”, I quipped, shaking my head. What decade did he think he lived in? I took a breath and continued, “All my life, I’ve been labeled the difficult one. Out of control. Too far gone. A problem. Just… trouble. So, it became my persona. My shield. It’s just… It’s my thing.” As soon as I could feel my old wounds start to reopen, I shrugged it off and cleared my throat, “It’s who I’ve always been.”

Soldier Boy nibbled on his lower lip, momentarily staring at the table in front of him. He nodded his head very slowly, lost in thought, and dragged his lip out between his teeth. “Yeah… I get that.” He lifted his eyes, glancing at me, and the atmosphere shifted.

He looked so… open, all of a sudden. Approachable. Perhaps even vulnerable? I’d never seen him like this before. Normally, he was just… A brick wall made of machismo and arrogance. Now, he looked like a sensitive guy I could actually have a conversation with.

I seized the moment to get personal with him. It was now or never, right? I had so many questions that were just begging to be asked. “What’s your name?”

His eyebrows rose up in question. “What?”

“I wanna know your real name,” I explained, fidgeting with the bottle in my hand, “You know mine. You call me Y/N. But I have to keep calling you Soldier Boy. Doesn’t seem fair, does it?”

He stared at my face for a few seconds, not saying anything. He ground his jaw. His forest green orbs roamed my facial features like he was about to solve the riddle of the century. Then, finally, he clicked his tongue and stated, “Yeah, well, nothin’ in this fucking world is fair, princess.”

My lips pursed in frustration. Bonding time was over, then. God, that fucking brick wall was infuriating. “Whatever.”

“So, you took the role, huh?”, he mocked me, obviously back in smug-mode. “In need for some publicity, I assume?”

I huffed, a sigh of defeat leaving my mouth. “You wouldn’t get it.”

“You’re in it for the money, huh?” Soldier Boy laughed again. This time, the sound wasn’t pleasant. It was cunning. Spiteful. “You know, everything would be so much fuckin’ easier if you just went lookin’ for a supe husband.”

My teeth pressed together tightly as I tried to hold back a snarky remark. He just didn’t seem to know when to shut up.

“What’s wrong? Cat got your fucking tongue?”, he taunted.

“What happened with that letter you sent me?”

Soldier Boy glared at me, his eyes hooded with a warning. He reclaimed the bottle of whiskey from my hand.

“Why would you have to send it behind Stan Edgar’s back? Huh?”, I pressed.

“Because he’s a stupid fucking idiot. He wouldn’t recognize talent if it hit him square in the face!” Soldier Boy’s nostrils flared as he communicated his frustration. “I tell him about you, and what does he do? Fucking nothing.” He lifted the bottle to his lips and took another swig.

Against my will, I could feel my face soften. If everything had gone according to Soldier Boy’s plan, I could’ve been a member of Payback. Me. Of fucking Payback. It was insane to even think about.

“One day, he’s gonna get what’s comin’ to him.” Soldier Boy subtly nodded his head to himself as he spoke. “They all are.”

I placed my chin on my hand and leaned forward. “And then what?”

“I’ll be Vought,” he declared, studying me with a predator’s unwavering attention, “We’ll be Vought.”

Sitting so close to him, I could see that there were bright flecks of gold in his green eyes. The freckles on his face lined not only the bridge of his nose, no. There were also a few rogue freckles on his cheeks, on the bags beneath his eyes, even on part of his lips.

Soldier Boy inched closer to me, and closer, giving me a chance to take in every single gorgeous detail about him. Damn him. He never stopped. And then, before I could fully register what was happening, his mouth was on mine.

He tasted like whiskey, cigarettes, and mint chewing gum. His lips were slightly chapped, scraping against mine in the most sensual way. It felt good, being kissed like this again. I followed his lead and moved my mouth against his, allowing him to taste me, too.

My hand came to rest on his bearded jaw. I could feel the muscles move beneath his skin as his kiss became more passionate.

And then a moan left my mouth. It was so quiet, so small, that I barely even noticed it myself.

Soldier Boy, on the other hand, reacted to it very fast. Did he have super hearing, too? It was like a switch had been turned all of a sudden. His hand flew up and tangled tightly in my hair. He grabbed a chunk of the Y/H/C strands in his fist and pressed my face against his. His tongue dipped into my mouth, making me gasp. 

Something about his rough enthusiasm made me feel so wanted, so treasured. Soldier Boy was showering me with pure, wanton attention. He made my insides glow with desire.

“Come here,” he muttered, his tone strict, and clawed at my hips.

With one harsh movement, he pulled me onto his lap. I gasped again and spread my thighs, straddling him. Heat was pooling between my legs. His hardened hands held onto the backs of my thighs and kneaded my bare skin where my dress had ridden up. His palms were so warm, so greedy, as he squeezed my flesh.

His full lips crashed back onto mine, his kiss all teeth and tongue. My hands dug into his bulky shoulders, and oh boy, he was ripped. He could easily have thrown me against a wall to have his way with me, just like he had in his mental images at Herogasm.

A guttural grunt escaped him when I started to grind myself against the impressive outline of his dick. Fuck, he was a jerk, but I wanted him so bad.

He pulled me up higher on his lap, securing my legs around his hips. As he got up from his chair, he hauled me up with him like I weighed nothing, keeping my thighs locked around his waist.

I took his face between my hands and kissed him harder, getting lost in the thunderstorm of sensations. His beard rubbed against my chin. I couldn’t wait to feel his scruff on other parts of my body.

Unceremoniously, Soldier Boy dropped me on the table. Not breaking away from our heated make-out session, he pushed the hem of my dress up to my waist. His fingers instantly went to my soaked underwear, brushing up and down my slit a couple of times.

He broke away from my lips and connected his mouth to my ear, making my toes curl with pleasure. His fingers looped around my throat as he bit my earlobe. I trembled, loving the sensation of his scruff brushing against the shell of my ear.

His hand around my throat felt like a promise. A promise that he was going to satisfy me.

“Fuck… You’re an eager little slut, aren’t you?”, he spoke right into my ear, “In need of a real man to fuck you.”

Nuh-uh. My hand clenched in his long hair. I fisted the dirty blonde strands and used my grip to drag him away from me.

His eyes bored into mine, filled with confusion, arousal, wonder, anger, all at once. His hold on my throat tightened, and my pussy clenched around nothing.

“Quit talking,” I said, looking him dead in the eye. Name-calling? Hard pass. Soldier Boy, as hot and powerful as he was, wasn’t gonna change that. He was, after all, like a gun loaded with sexism and inappropriate, outdated world views. If I could get him not to say anything offensive for the next half hour or whatever, I knew I owed myself a huge pat on the back.

He sneered in response. The mocking, disbelieving half-smirk on his face made me think there was a joke on the tip of his tongue, waiting to spill and ruin everything between us.

Instead, in one fluid movement, his hands went to the backs of my knees. With immense speed, he pulled, making my ass slide to the edge of the table. The force caused me to fall backwards. I had to use my hands to avoid landing on my back.

He kept smirking at me, taunting me without having to say a single word. “Damn, woman, you have a lot to learn. Enough with the fucking foreplay.” He let go of me to unzip his pants. As he did so, he casually glanced at the clock behind me. “We gotta hurry, anyway.”

I rolled my eyes at him, which he thankfully didn’t see. Despite how fucking irritating this man was, I found myself pulling down my wet panties. As my underwear dropped to the floor, Soldier Boy pushed his pants halfway down his thighs. His dick sprung free. It was hard and long, already leaking, the head swollen. It was thick, too, making me wonder if I was gonna be able to take him without lube.

“Hel-lo, gorgeous,” he mumbled under his breath as he caught his first glance of my pussy. Placing his hands on my inner thighs, he used his thumbs to pull the lips apart and get a good look. “God, you’re soaked. Your cunt is a fucking sight to behold.”

I circled my legs around his waist, crossing my ankles behind his back, and pulled him against me with a harsh tug. The tip of his leaking cock bumped against my clit. I chewed on my lip in anticipation.

Soldier Boy reached out and used his fingers to pull my lip back out of my mouth. His other hand grabbed his dick and rubbed it up and down my pussy. “I’m gonna fucking ruin you,” he hissed.

“Is that a promise?”, I asked. His fingers were still resting on the corner my mouth, so I caught the tips between my lips and gave the pads a small lick.

The muscles in his jaw tightened, and I could feel his wet dick twitch against me, jerking with a need for attention. Soldier Boy’s chest, clad in green, moved up and down heavily with his labored breaths. Yes, I got a feeling it was definitely a promise he was going to keep.

He squeezed one of my thighs with one hand while his other hand held onto his cock. The enlarged tip parted my pussy’s lips as he started to push it in. I took a deep breath, anticipating that it was going to be painful at first.

But the world didn’t seem to mean well for us that day. Just as America’s greatest hero was about to hit home, someone had to go and knock on his fucking door.

Soldier Boy’s eyes darkened threateningly. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.” Somehow, the low tone in his voice managed to sound even more dangerous than any amount of yelling ever could. 

His gaze dropped to the point where we were connected. Well, almost connected. He kept staring, weighing his options, and apparently tossed his annoyance overboard. I could feel his dick twitch against me again.

Soldier Boy hummed in approval, drinking in the sight of my wetness, and lifted his hand into the air. Suddenly, he brought it down on my pussy, slapping my clit.

I whined involuntarily, feeling the sting vibrate through my lower regions. If that was how he wanted it to go, two could play that game. God, I wanted him so bad. I kept myself up with one hand resting behind me, while my other hand grabbed the back of his neck. I roughly pulled him close to me and took his bottom lip between my teeth to bite it. He tasted delicious.

He grunted and squeezed my jaw in his hand. He fought me for dominance, kissing the hell out of me.

Another knock by the door broke us apart, making us stop. Soldier Boy’s forehead rested against mine as I clung to his strong body. Our closeness, breathing each other’s air, it felt surprisingly intimate. It felt oddly safe despite the fact that we could rip each other apart.

“Uh… Soldier Boy?”, a young, hesitant voice called from outside the trailer.

Soldier Boy inhaled, his broad chest expanding, and then pushed the air back out with an angered huff. His hot breath hit my face. As he pulled away from me, his eyebrows lowered and his jaw jutted forward – clear signs of irritation. I didn’t wanna be the one on the receiving end of that.

I used our gained space to drop my legs from his waist and pull my dress back down. My gaze stayed glued to Soldier Boy’s face as he glared at the door. He pulled his pants back up over his bulge with harsh, quick movements.

Without another glance at me, Payback’s leader stomped to the trailer’s entrance, his steps heavy, and tore the door open.

“Soldier Boy-“

I watched Soldier Boy shove someone away, then step out of the trailer, out of my sight. “What the fuck do you want? Huh?”, I heard him demand.

“Please, Sir, I- I was told to come get you. The schedule changed, I’m sorry, I-“

“Shut your fucking cockhole. You think you can just come here and tell me what to do?”

“N-no, Soldier Boy.”

I jumped off the table, brushed my hands over my dress to smooth it out, and got to the door to get a look at what was happening.

Soldier Boy had planted himself in front of Gunpowder and was now getting into the young man’s face. “You think you’re in charge here?”, he demanded.

Gunpowder gulped, frantically shaking his head. “No. You are.”

“What’s going on?”, I interrupted the two.

Soldier Boy turned his head, meeting my eyes with a cold stare. “Get back inside.”

My eyebrows moved closer together. I’d been left hot and bothered, just like him, but he was acting out of line. “No,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest.

The muscles in Soldier Boy’s jaw contracted with irritation. After glaring at me for a second, he rolled his eyes and spun back around to face the younger man. “Fine. Suit yourself.” He then roughly grabbed the collar of Gunpower’s suit, restricting his air.

“I’m really sorry, Sir,” Gunpowder repeated, looking like he was about to pee himself.

“Who the hell do you think you are, kid? You do realize I could snap your neck right fucking now, don’t you?”

Gunpowder’s hand covered Soldier Boy’s in a fruitless attempt to get him to ease up on his collar. “Yes, Sir.”

“I should teach you a fucking lesson, you little-“ Soldier Boy stopped in his tracks, a small gasp leaving his lips.

The reason why he stopped? I was intervening, unbeknownst to Gunpowder.

I tried to keep the glowing of my eyes in check while I used my powers on Soldier Boy. I wasn’t hurting him, if that’s what you’re thinking. Quite the contrary. I was showing him little naughty mental images of our almost-quickie, each sequence just a second long.

“Honey?”, I called out sweetly.

Soldier Boy turned to face me again, his breathing labored. His nostrils flared outwards. He didn’t look amused.

I, on the other hand, forced a teasing smile onto my face. “This pussy isn’t gonna fuck itself, baby. So… Unless you wanna pass up the opportunity…”

His face dropped for a second, all the tension leaving his muscles at once. I had caught him entirely off-guard. But just as quickly, the tension returned to his face. His lips tightened into a thin, angry line. His eyebrows lowered and moved closer together. With a firm push, he released Gunpowder, not even sparing the young man another glance as he tumbled to the floor.

Soldier Boy approached me with purposeful, steadfast steps, making my heart take a leap. Holy shit, he looked dead serious. Once again, I hadn’t thought things through. Perks of being an impulsive idiot.

I stumbled back into the trailer as he quickly caught up with me. He squeezed his tall body through the doorframe and shoved the door closed behind him.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”, he demanded, his voice threatening enough to send my mind reeling. He stepped forward until I was trapped between his body and the table.

“I-I could ask you the same thing,” I muttered. Fuck, why did I have to slip up and stutter? Don’t show fear, Y/N, I reminded myself. “The boy almost peed himself.”

“He deserved it,” Soldier Boy sneered. He leaned in close, our faces just a few inches apart. For a second, I wondered if he was trying to intimidate me or seduce me. “Out there showin’ he’s scared like a fucking pussy.”

“The thing with unpleasant feelings is…” I held his gaze and pushed myself up against his body. Don’t show fear. “They tell you what you need. What you’re lacking.”

Soldier Boy scowled at me. For a fraction of a second, I thought I saw something like recognition pass his face. But just as quickly, the scowl took over his face again, leaving no room for me to further interpret his reaction.

He took a few steps back, breaking our physical contact. “Yeah, well, I don’t lack anything. I’m the greatest superhero the world has ever seen.” With one last glare in my direction, he spat, “You better fucking take those fifteen minutes of fame.” Soldier Boy turned his broad back to me and exited the trailer. He shut the door with a bang so loud that it made my body jump.

Part 4

Tag list: @akshi8278 @leigh70 @mimzy1994 @impalaslytherin @asgardiandeadpoetsociety @panhufflestugf @spnwoman @themerc-with-a-mouth @waynes-multiverse @tzillas​ @josephslittlemetalballs​ @deliriouslybi​ @ryethebrokengae​ @epiphany-of-a-madwoman​ @rach5ive​ @mimaria420

[frogtanii]

“hi everyone,” you gave your webcam a half hearted wave, noting the flood of inquisitive comments at your demeanor.

ynismymommy: omg queen r u ok??????

emilia.95: Have you been sleeping?

atsumus-leftballsack: bestie imma need you to invest in some concealer

a giggle pried it’s way up your throat, despite your attempts to stop it as you read the comments. yes, you were fully aware that you looked like shit however, you just weren’t expecting the viewers of your stream to be so... observant.

“holy shit guys, i’m okay,” you attempted to placate your vicious audience by giving them a (forced) smile and a small chuckle. “let’s just play, okay?”

you loaded up your game of choice (call of duty — you had a lot of aggression to work off) while making idle chatter with your fanbase. they seemed to have dropped conversation about your heavy eye bags and low enthusiasm in favor of more lighthearted topics.

just as you were starting to get into it, a knock sounded at your door. at first, you were tempted to ignore it but after a few moments of silence, the knocking started up again, more incessantly. your comments started to go wild, wondering who exactly was banging on your door at like 11p.

bokutos.bahamamommamilkers: tell whoever is @ the door to fuck off

shartyba3_420: damn slam me yn like [redacted] is slamming on that door

Greg_72: Hey, you can go answer that! We’ll wait <3

you apologize quickly before removing your headphones and scurrying over to the door. swinging it wide open, you’re met with bokuto.

and what a sight he is.

once bright, golden eyes were now dull and void, accompanied by dark circles that rivaled your own while his usually sunny visage was dampened by this metaphorical dark cloud that was hanging above him.

in other words, he looked like shit.

the both of you must look like quite a pair — you in your ratty, oversized hoodie and red sweats and him in his white t shirt and flannel pajama pants. after giving him another glance over, you repressed the urge to pull him into your room and into a hug, instead choosing to wrap your arms around yourself tightly.

“um, hey bo,” you started, unable to keep your eyes on his face. “i’m really sorry but i’m streaming right now. maybe we can hang out later?”

bokuto shook his head no, and your heart began to sink. you were just so tired and you didn’t have the energy to entertain or comfort the man at the moment without letting another piece of yourself crumble but you knew you didn’t have the heart to turn him away.

resigning yourself to your fate, you stepped to the side to let him into your room, making a mental note to shield him from your webcam while you brought him to lie on your bed.

to your complete and utter surprise, bokuto did not move, shaking his head no again before moving to grab something just out of your sight behind your doorway.

you were now thoroughly intrigued, shuffling closer to peek into the hallway, only to be stopped by a box being thrusted into your hands. you looked over the colorfully painted cardboard but it gave you no indication as to what was on the inside and glancing at kotarou gave you no help whatsoever.

“what’s this?” you voiced your confusion while weighing the box in your hands, the confusion only amplifying when you discover the box is suspiciously light. you’re shaken from your investigation when bokuto throws another object in your hands, this one significantly heavier.

looking up at him, you’re taken aback by the emotion swirling in his irises, his mouth finally parting to speak. “i’m so sorry,” kotarou’s voice, while gravelly from disuse, was sincere, a slight quiver being found underlying his words. “i- i know i never said it but i just want you to know that i-i care about you and that i am so sorry for ever hurting you and making you feel like you were less than. y-you’ve helped me become myself again a-and i can never thank you enough.”

a shuddering breath left his chest as he trained his eyes on the ceiling before looking back at you with watery eyes. “you don’t have to forgive me. i-i’d understand.” you opened your mouth to respond, to rebut, but you were cut off by his strong arms, wrapping you up in a tight hug.

you couldn’t keep yourself from melting into his hold, a small ounce of stress leaving your body at his words but the bulk of it remaining. he’s just apologizing because you’re the only girl who’s shown him an ounce of kindness, the voice in the back of your head whispered.

as bokuto pulled you in tighter, you stiffened, the voice getting louder and more constant. the man holding you didn’t miss the way you tensed and hesitantly removed himself from you, his hurt written plain all over his face.

kotarou gave you a weak smile and another gentle apology before turning and leaving for his room. you already felt guilt creeping up your spine for not holding him the way you thought you should but you quickly pushed the feeling down, knowing that you wouldn’t have gotten the rest you deserved if you’d done so.

letting out a deep sigh, you shut your door and moved back to continue your stream, not before gently setting down the 2 colorfully decorated boxes on the bed, a small smile creeping across your face at the sight of the gifts.

your stream ended pretty shortly after, your mind unable to focus on the game — it was getting borderline embarrassing how often you were dying to the point you were worried your sponsors would pull out of supporting you.

with a soft smile and goodbye, you collapsed on your bed, mindful not to crush the boxes. while you were extremely exhausted, you knew you wouldn’t be able to go to sleep without examining your gifts’ contents.

you decided to open the heavier box first which yielded bag after bag of your favorite chips, candies, and drinks. you knew your mouth was gaping unattractively but you couldn’t help it. this was... way too much.

at the bottom of the box was a small note, written in bokuto’s somehow endearing chicken scratch. it read, “hi yn!!!! this is for when you get hungry :) i know i didn’t let you eat any of my snacks for a long time so i thought it would be nice if i bought some for you!!!!! i hope i got these all right :( i asked atsumu for help!!!”

a choked chuckle escaped your lips and it only amplified as you continued to the end of the note. “p.s. don’t worry about not finishing it all!!! i can always help you ;) p.p.s. also you’re so pretty!!!! don’t not eat it because you don’t think so too <3”

wiping your eyes that had become suspiciously misty, you set down the slip of paper and reached for the second box.

you couldn’t keep the gasp from coming from you as the cardboard overflowed with tiny slips of paper. with shaky hands, you unfolded the first paper, the tears overflowing over your lashline before you could stop them.

you are loved :) - akaashi

“fuck,” you whispered, swiping at your face before clumsily reaching for another, and then another, each note making you cry harder than the last.

you are beautiful!!!!! never change!! - bokuto!!!

you’re really cool - kenma

you are so kind and i owe you the world - sugawara :)

you’re sympathetic, observant, and intelligent. - sakusa.

you are patient (even when we don’t deserve it) - kuroo

yer my angel <3 - tsum tsum

there were a ton more but you promised yourself you’d read them all later, your emotions getting the better of you. you’d rather not wake up with puffy, swollen eyes and a headache so you decided it would be best to close the box and finish it all later.

laying back on your bed, you expelled a deep breath of air, not realizing just how tense you were. you’d been living on edge with the guys for at least a month now and it was really starting to wear on you.

without being able to fully trust them, you knew it wouldn’t be long until you crumbled under the pressure.

you glanced at your phone before sighing again (it really was that kind of day, wasn’t it). maybe it was about time to give dr yamada a long awaited call.

℗ poker face

you are loved :)

series masterlist

(●’◡’●)ﾉ

an - ooweee first single apology down, 4 more to go!!! also the box of papers came from everyone (obv) but they still gotta give their individual apologies hehe which shall come in the future <33 sorry this took so long KSJD i hope u enjoy!!! don’t forget to feed me <333

taglist - if your name is in bold, i cannot tag you

@boosyboo9206 • @geektastic84 • @elianetsantana • @trashy-simp • @infinitebells • @6mattsun9 • @suhkusa • @sazunari • @kotarosbabygirl • @fucktheworlddude • @insomniacwreck • @calumsfringe • @saltylettuce • @chai-blu • @al3x1ss • @hawksyoongi • @syndellwins • @jooleuuh • @amberalisa • @kissungjae • @liberhoe • @tetsurocore • @animeoverdosee • @duhsies • @saikishairclip • @afire24 • @premiyagi • @kit-kat428 • @doctorspencereid • @daphnxy • @kyomihann • @maer-333 • @sinoflust19 • @peteunderoos • @peachiikichu • @iidanotlida • @yongboxerrr • @kac-chowsballs • @tanakaslastbraincell • @memorableminds • @risjime • @starry-magicshop • @sugavwara • @smuttyanimeslut • @kiwibirbs-library • @haijkk • @airybnb • @crybabygumi • @iwaisa • @decaffinatedtealover • @notameera • @kawaii-angelanne • @rintarovibes • @urlocalsimp

the rest of the tags will be in the replies!!

[goldenkirstein]

aot band! au headcanons pt. 1:

pt. two here

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pairing: jean x fem! reader, eren x fem! reader, zeke x fem! reader

wc: 1.2k+

cw: smut (18+ minors DNI), reader has female anatomy, manipulation/corruption, dumbification/incoherence, sorta dubcon (?), mentions of spit, cockwarming, unprotected sex, cursing, dirty talk, creampie/breeding, cumplay, degradation, perv! zeke.

a/n: okayyyyy, so im reposting this, because i didn't like it the first time i posted it lol. i added and cut out some things still don't know if i really like it. anyways, i tried my best with tagging everything, i really hope i didn't miss anything, if i did please let me know. this is my first time writing anything smutty, i'd love to hear any feedback or criticism !!

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

smut under the cut

jean kirstein

Jean would play the electric guitar.

He wouldn't have any big tattoos but tiny stick and pokes, but when he takes off his shirt, there would be this giant, intricate tattoo that spans his entire back.

He wears thin white t-shirts that cling to his body when he gets all sweaty from performing or when he douses himself in water because the lights make it really hot on stage, babe. The shirt becomes practically see-through, and when he turns around, you can see the outline of the back tattoo. You swear he does it on purpose.

HIS HANDS, calloused from hours of practice, wears chunky silver rings that make his long fingers stand out. He keeps his ring finger empty, though (he's a romantic and a big ol’ softie).

When he's writing songs or can't figure out what chord would sound right, he plays with his rings. He takes them off, sliding them up and down his finger until he's satisfied and moves on to the others.

It drives him insane if he sees you singing along to his songs at the concerts. He'll smirk at you, opting for a quick wink, before getting back to performing.

After the show, he’ll pull you into his lap, in whatever empty room is available. He’ll have his hands on your hips, the cold rings contrasting against your hot skin.

His heart would be beating so fast, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He just got off stage, and here you are, grinding down on the growing bulge in his pants, driving him crazy.

On most days, he liked it when you would fuck him post-show, sliding your skirt up and sink down on his cock.

He loved watching you fuck yourself dumb around him, tits bouncing in his face, head thrown back in pleasure. His cock would reduce you into an incoherent blubbering mess. The only thing making sense was the way you were chanting his name like a prayer.

this fucker would love to whisper the most filthy things in your ear, “you’re making such a mess around my cock, petal. You’re gonna be a good slut and clean it up after, right?”

when he’s about to cum, he turns into an absolute mess. He gets super whimpery and will hold you close to his chest as he dumps his load in you. He stays like that for a while, watching as his cum drips out of your cunt and down his dick.

He doesn’t let you get off his cock, partly because he’s so sensitive and partly because he secretly wants to stuff you full of his babies.

after he’s calmed down a bit, he’ll open his eyes and run a hand through his hair, letting out a small chuckle, “shit, baby, you keep fucking me like that and I might just have to put a ring around that finger.”

eren yeager

plays bass and is on vocals

he has a sleeve on one arm, and the other one is empty. It's pretty cohesive, and the pieces link together-think American traditional; he takes great pride in his tattoos. After all, they're pieces of art on his body.

He likes showing off on stage. He’ll take off his shirt and throw it into the crowd, and he loves hearing the screams that ensue afterwards.

Always the performer; he’ll walk off the stage and stand on the rails, getting the people in the crowd to run their hands down his sweat-slicked torso. It’s another crowd favourite.

he wears rings too, and his favourite thing to do is to get you to pull them off his fingers using your mouth. He has to coax you into each time, “I can’t pull them off by myself; they’re too tight, need your help, angel.” He just likes having you suck on his fingers; he won’t tell you that, though.

He likes the attention from the fans, but he mainly does it to get you hot and bothered. Eren stares at you while strangers are practically grabbing at him. It’s a game for him. Figure out just how many ways he can get to you.

you always avoid him after the shows, in a way to tell him that you're not impressed by the stunts he pulls.

As much as you try to run and hide, he always finds you. He’ll come up from behind, hands on your waist; you don’t need to see him to know that he’s got that Cheshire cat grin on his face.

Try to escape from his grip, and it’ll only get tighter, “what’d you think of my little performance, princess? Did it make you weak in the knees?”

He loves pushing your buttons, does everything to get a reaction out of you, try all you might, the night always ends the same way, you bent over his dressing room table, skirt lifted, panties to the side, and him fucking ruthlessly into you from behind.

the stoic front you put up would be practically erased from the way his cock slides in and out of your spongy walls, hitting that sweet spot over and over again.

He loves hearing you beg for him; he wants to listen to the vulgar words fall from your mouth, wants to have you begging him to let you cum, pleading for him to cum in your pussy.

He’ll tease you endlessly, “what’s that angel? If you want my cum so bad, you gotta beg better than that.” In the end, he always gives in, also liking the way his seed drips out of your pulsating hole.

Before any can drip down your thighs, he’ll slide back your panties, straighten out your skirt and send you off, saying that, “it’s for later, for when you try fingering that pretty little pussy, you’ll always have a reminder of who owns it.”

Bonus: tour manager! zeke yeager:

tour manager zeke, who watches the shows from the venue’s back, keeping his eyes trained on you.

Tour manager zeke who has a reputation for being a sleazebag, a cheapskate and vile to women.

Tour manager zeke, who watches as you stay back after each show to clean up, smiling ever so sweetly at him, “no mr. yeager, I really don’t mind helping out. It’s the least I can do.”

tour manager zeke, who can’t help think of shameful things when you bend over to pick up the crumpled posters, his eyes that linger a little too long at the swell of your pert ass.

Tour manager zeke thinks about how your mouth would feel around his cock, how your eyes would tear up as he pushed your head further and further down his cock. How pretty you would look with spit and cum coating that sweet face of yours.

Tour manager zeke, who has always been kind to you, offering to take you home for the night, telling you how cute you look and how he can’t believe you’re over 18.

Tour manager zeke wants to defile you and make you his, ruin you so that you can only get off from his cock and no one else’s.

Tour manager zeke wants to teach you how to suck dick, how to ride, how to fuck.

Tour manager zeke, who treats you so nicely, putting false notions in your mind so you can let your guard down around him, hoping that one day he can shape you into his plaything.

a/n: hope the smut sounded right this time around lmao, i might scrap it in the morning again idek yet, just wanted to see if i could even write smut.

I am working on the second part of somewhere only we know !! thank you for all the love on that.

if this does well, i'd love to do a part two to this with armin, mikasa and connie, please let me know if that is something you would be interested in !!

as always, if you enjoyed, leave a like/reblog, i truly appreciate it <33

[titan-fodder]

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 ]

[mcmoth]

Dream SMP fandom etiquette

So. This post is probably too little, too late, considering the fandom and the issues I'm about to talk about have existed for so long now, and a lot of the people who need to hear this probably aren't on tumblr anyways, but I just wanted to dedicate a quick post to talk about fandom etiquette. Mostly pertaining to discourse, and interactions with people outside of our circle. These are just going to be my own personal thoughts, of course, but I felt it could be good to bring some of this to attention. So without further introduction:

Where to (not) talk about discourse:

Don't go into other streamer's vods to only focus about a different character. If you want to analyse, for example, c!Techno, do it in Techno's stream. Don't go into unrelated streams, like Tommy's, Tubbo's etc. to do it, even if they were a part of the event in question. This is, of course, with the exception if the character in question didn't stream their own pov. But otherwise, stay in your own space. This is to prevent cluttering a streamer's comments about unrelated discussion. To give further example: Tubbo's vod comments should primarily focus on Tubbo's character. Not Tommy's, Ranboo's, Techno's or whoever else's.

Don't start discourse in the comments of animatics. Seriously, stop that. Animatics aren't discussion boards. The comments are there to analyse and appreciate the video presented, not argue. It's especially rude if you pick a small detail, that wasn't even the focus of the animatic, or even a completely unrelated issue to rant out your frustrations about. To give examples: starting disc discourse in an animatic of Tommy talking to Wilbur, or rambling about how tragic Techno's character is in an animatic focused on clingy duo, etc.

This applies to fan songs as well.

Video essays are the exception to these rules. I think it's safe to say they're the place to bring your hot takes, if you really feel so inclined to argue in youtube comment sections (Though I'd personally advise to still keep the topic relevant).

Keep negativity out of fanfic comments. This isn't nearly as big of an issue as the last points, but I've seen it happen a couple times, so I'm deciding to mention it. Fanfics are written for fun. Even if you disagree with the characterisation or something else, unless the author is clear in accepting critique, keep criticism to yourself. And definitely don't rant about how you dislike a character unrelated to the fanfic. Sharing your thoughts on the fanfic itself is of course fine and welcomed, but when it turns from discussing the author's story to talking about how you dislike a character in canon, that's when it crosses a line. Example: comment talking about what you don't like about c!Tommy on a Bench Trio fanfiction.

When commenting on art, keep the feedback positive. Even if you dislike any presented character, keep that to yourself. Example: Don't say things like "I hate x character, but this art is good". You might think the author would feel honoured, but it's actually just hurtful.

How to deal with discourse:

This is gonna be a shorter section, because I think we all chose to do it in different ways, and that's valid. Also, it's just that I, myself, am still learning how to do this well, but I thought it could be good to try to lay it out anyways.

Try to scroll past takes you disagree with instead of arguing if you don't think you'd be able to keep your cool. Noone likes a random person yelling at them through a screen, and if you rant, you'll get an equally frustrated reply back, and noone will be happy. Either explain your point in a calm manner, or scroll past/ unfollow/block.

On the keeping cool thing, remember to just step away. Take a deep breath and calm yourself down before proceeding. To minimize the frustration you feel on a daily basis, filter tags, block people, avoid videos and youtube comment sections that you know will upset you, and leave certain internet spaces if you find yourself unable to escape negativity even with all those steps. Remember: in the end, it's all a game played by friends, a story, and your enjoyment of it lies in what you take from it. Abandon what makes you unhappy. Marie Kondo your fandom experience.

Also, here's your reminder, to whom this is relevant, to take care of yourself. Hydrate, eat, sleep, clean up, get fresh air, remember the things outside of all this. There's plenty to do outside of this fandom, and what you can do here can wait. There is no pressure, or obligation. Not for the content you create, not for the discussions you bring, not for responding to discourse, not for anything. Fandom is meant purely for fun, so take care <3

Interacting with people outside of the fandom:

This is something that I've seen a bit of talk about, and I thought I'd drop in my own thoughts on this as well. No matter the differences, we're all just trying to vibe, and I think these are important things to keep in mind to leave both sides better off:

Don't interact with hate posts. Just don't. You don't want to see them, they don't want to see you. Even if your response is lighthearted, their animosity is not. They will feel frustrated regardless, and the grudge will only grow. And if they're being agressive, calm discussion most likely won't happen even if you're being polite. Just leave it, please.

Correct misinformation calmly. I completely get how it can be frustrating to see blatant lies and all, but with our reputation, people will not listen if you're being antagonistic. Provide sources, explain, and leave it at that.

Don't be hateful, send death threats, or assume privilege or whatever else. That's stepping into the same shoes of the people you hate. Misunderstandings go both ways, and the fact of the matter is, I think most people who dislike DSMP, even the ones who are agressive about it, don't have their stance rooted in maliciousness. To expand on why the situation became what it is today, taken from a discussion on discord:

I think it's just a combination of Dream growing so insanely quickly + how internet spaces have changed over the years. When ccs like jackstepticeye or pewdiepie etc. grew popular, activism wasn't as prevalent and held to such importance. Now it's thankfully more talked about, but that also leads to Dream being more scrutinized in comparision. Add twitter trends and the general prevalence of the fandom, and you've got everyone feeling tired and frustrated and paranoid. People also tend not to fact check stuff, especially when it comes to celebrities and stuff they're not really interested in, so rumors spread fast.

And actually, I think there's absolutely valid reasons to be made uncomfortable by Dream SMP, either in it's creators, content or fandom, and there is, of course, stuff to criticise in general. The problem is the hate and misinformation and overexposure, but we are not going to solve any of that by being aggressive in return.

(This is, by the way, not talking about more serious cases. Like doxxing, or leaving gore images in hashtags, or similar instances. That's a whole different complicated issue that I don't feel qualified to tackle.)

And finally, don't overwhelm outsiders who merely mention the Dream SMP. Don't send asks asking them to watch it, don't write paragraphs explaining the lore, don't confuse them with inside jokes, just... Don't jump on people like that. Unless they're explicitly clear in wanting interaction and getting into the fandom, that kind of thing will just drive them away. This is in no way exclusive to the Dream SMP fandom, pretty much every fandom has people enthiastic to have more people involved, but since there are so unbelievably many of us, it's especially easy to go overboard with this stuff. Just... be polite, and don't pressure anyone. Be nice, please.

So.... ya! This would be it for this one, I think. Sorry that it's kinda long, thank you if you read it at all. Hope y'all have pleasant days ^^

[angelkurenai]

So much for a surprise - Chris Evans x Reader

Title: So much for a surprise

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: None

Prompt: I'd love a chris evans x reader one shot, where they're dating, and after the knives out movie, he's been spending a lot of time with his co-star Ana de Armas, and like in one specific interview she was getting very flirty and such with Chris, and touching his arm and stuff, and I'd just want to see how you'd interpret jealous!reader, and Chris reacting to that jealousy!!

Looking at your phone, for what seemed like the millionth time that day, you tried to suppress a sigh, though you couldn't help the roll of your eyes. Despite the amount of messages and notifications, and there were plenty for sure, none of them including your boyfriend.

You didn't want to hold it against him, after all you knew he was particularly busy these days what with all the interviews and promoting his newest movie. And despite all the games and laughs it could be, or at least it seemed to be to the rest of the world, you were an actress yourself and understood that it could be tiring, exhausting and on more than one occasions very nerve-wracking especially if one was already anxious about taking on a new role after years of being famous for another one. You understood because you had gone through all of that yourself, and you could have excused his lack of contact. You would have, really, if it wasn't for the fact that those interviews were no longer part of his job and a stressful one at that. No, if anything, they were obviously only an excuse now.

An excuse to not answer phone calls or messages, an excuse to spend less time at home, an excuse to make plans to go out with without you – oh you couldn't even remember the last time it had been just the two of you out for a simple drink – an excuse to pull further apart from you, an excuse fool around and be playful with another woman. It was that last part which brought a bitter taste in your mouth. If it was his friends, long-time ones or not, you wouldn't have paid so much attention to it but when he said that he was going out for the third time in a row with Ana and maybe some costar might tag along but he didn't know then there was only so much you could take.

You didn't doubt him, you would never doubt him or his fidelity to you, because you knew the kind of man you had beside you. After years of being together you how much he loved you, he made sure show it every chance he got and made sure you never forgot it, so you always trusted him even if he more often than not ended up surrounded by so many beautiful women at a time. But that didn't mean you could trust her, just like you couldn't blame her. Alright maybe you could andyou would if she ever tried anything with Chris, but the lingering touches or easy smiles and casually frequent glances were no reason for you to start anything or try to hold it against her. Not yet.

You could very easily hold it against him, though. For allowing all of it, but above all for allowing himself to be pulled away from you because of another woman. It wasn't your fault that you couldn't stop the pang in your chest. You weren't to blame for the way your heart squeezed, a bit painfully sometimes too. It was not on you that whenever he said, in that casual simple way that “Oh just going out with Ana.” as if she was his girlfriend of three years and not you, you felt your throat close up and your eyes burn with something akin to unshed tears. You refused to believe it was tears and you refused to believe that he was hurting you, that this situation was hurting you, when it could all easily be just in your head so instead you shrugged most of it off.

“Hey, we were-” the man started but paused when he saw the deep frown that had set on your face, the concern that slipped on his features was touching to say the least. Especially as he gave a small sign to his friends and approached you. Your friends as well and you tended to forget that lately just like you couldn't enjoy anything good that happened to you because of how things with Chris were but then again you had not shared much of it with him and when you didn't get to share your happiness with him it always tended to feel less true or real.

“Are you alright?” the hand on your shoulder along with the small squeeze and warmth it brought was comforting in a way you had almost forgotten you wanted but clearly more than needed, you realized.

“Just fine, don't worry about me. Going without any sleep for two days in a row kind of takes a toll on you, I guess.” you shrugged softly, slowly tucking your phone in your pocket; hoping even in the last couple seconds that there would be a message from your boyfriend.

“Are you trying to be reassuring now?” his eyebrows rose “Cause you're doing a really shitty job at it let me tell you. Hey remind me again who you've been taking acting lessons from at first? Hugh Jackman? Well it shows.”

“No, I swear I-” you couldn't help the giggle that left your lips, feeling light even for a few second “I am alright, really. A tad tired but only because I had so many scenes today. I recover fast and I have tomorrow off so all will be good. It's not anything I'm not used to.”

“I-” his small smile dropped in the end, worry showing through once more “Are you sure? Because I've seen you check your phone plenty of times in between breaks so I worried that- Well, something might've happened.”

“No, it's- Well, I expected some phone call or message from my boyfriend but apparently he's still busy with interviews, so I might just have to go ahead and meet him in person there. We might go out later... I think. We usually do every Friday so...” you trailed off and shrugged, not wanting to burden him with unnecessary worries and information despite how close you were lately.

“Oh well, in that case-” he nodded his head, glancing over his shoulder for a second before facing you again “It seems like you've already got plans with him then but uhm in case anything happens and you're off early or in the mood for drinks we know where we will be-”

“Oh but I'm not sure if I will have time to-” you said with slight worry and wide eyes.

“I know, I know.” he chuckled softly, quickly trying to calm you down “Just letting you know in case there's an off chance that it happens. We'll be waiting for you either way. I'll be waiting.”

You didn't dare say much to him after that, only gave him a shy smile and nod with a promise to at least try, and him that he was alright with anything, and watched him leave with the rest of your friends before you got in your own car to make your way to the studios where the interviews would be held. For the first time, probably in days if not weeks, you felt much lighter. Maybe it was good to see that you were wanted somewhere, in someone's company even though it wasn't your boyfriend's - despite your deepest hopes.

If only your good mood could last for longer than the whole 30 minutes of the ride, that would have been ideal. However, in the end, part of you wished that said interview was probably on the other side of the globe instead of so close to your filming location. Because as you walked into the studio, try as you might, you couldn't hold back the lump in your throat as you saw the scene in front of you.

“Don't know what that is but it sounds good!” Chris said with a grin on his face, soon followed by easy laughter from both him and Ana.

Ana's hand was in that very second on his arm, giving a small squeeze as they kept laughing together, until it slowly but surely started sliding down until her hand was holding his. The interview kept going and they both had smiles on, an occasional laugh escaping here and there. Her hand remained with his long enough for you to notice how he thumb was rubbing soothing circles one moment and playing with his fingers the next in a slow and easy manner that you knew he loved, you knew relaxed him even in the most stressful situations – especially during interviews which you knew he always needed – and that you knew... was your thing. Or at least so you thought.

And apparently you had been mistaken for at least three years now. You had been mistaken to think those warm comforting touches were just for the two of you to share and say things without having to verbally phrase them. You had been mistaken to think that the smile you saw on his face as he looked at Ana was saved just for you. You had been mistaken to believe that the way his face softened and his eyes focused with an unmistakable spark of interest were reserved just for you when you spoke to him about things you loved and not also her as she answered a question that very moment. You had been mistaken to think that the way his shoulder fell in relaxation, in easiness and comfort, as if coming back home for a long day, was reserved just for you and was something that came naturally. As naturally as the feeling of love which he so openly showed both with his actions and words whenever he saw you... or at least used to.

Come to think of it, many of the things you had been considering as important, as unique, for the two of you, were probably nothing more than maybe you getting sentimental or worse too attached. And, for sure you now realized, not happening lately much if not at all. But maybe that was to be expected when you were hardly spending any time together whatsoever. Maybe even not as meaningful... not as true?

But if that love, if those looks and touches and words, were not true then what else about your relationship was in the first place? What was real? What was unique? If he could so easily relax around her, flirt with her and accept her flirting back so easily, so openly then-

You shook your head and tore your eyes from the scene before you, effectively silencing their laughter in your head, even though it already sounded very far off. The unpleasant feeling was back, squeezing your heart, tightening your stomach in knots and making your eyes burn. The bad taste in your mouth, as your throat closed, was there too and you decided to bite on the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from saying or doing anything you wouldn't like. Even the taste of blood was better, anything was better, really than the bitterness that came when you watched them interact like that.

You were above this, had always been especially with all the fans and female costars he had that got a bit more handsy and yes, you brushed most of it off. Most of it, when your blood wasn't boiling like it was right now because of how long this had gone on for.

Watching Chris making his way towards you, with his usually warm smile -even though you couldn't feel its sentiment at the moment -and a clear look of surprise on his face to see you there you felt that over the bitterness, you did feel mad. What you heard didn't help.

“Hey, Chris, don't forget about the meetup later yeah?” it was Ana and really you had nothing against her, not anymore, and not much more than your boyfriend.

Especially when he looked at her with a smile and nod “Sure thing I'll meet up with you there.”

“Honey, hey!” he breathed out and pecked your lips though you didn't even blink up at him, let alone smile “What a surprise, what are you doing here?”

“Surprise huh?” maybe you had originally planned it as that but now even the word made you huff angrily “Oh I'm not sure, maybe you would know better if you did check your phone once in a while. What the fuck is wrong with you, I called you so many times, Chris. Damn it I almost thought something happened. You always answer at least for a couple seconds, you always-” you stopped yourself immediately when you realized you were close to raising your voice and causing a scene which was the last thing you wanted.

Chris' eyes were somewhat wide and his smile had vanished. He considered your expression and stance for a few more seconds before he said in more serious voice “Maybe you'd like to talk in private then?”

Shaking your head, you huffed a humorless laugh but followed him as he took hold of your hand, linking your fingers and leading you away from the main set. No sooner were you alone than you pulled your hand from his grasp, not fact or angrily, only in a cold way without a single emotion on your face which you saw made his frown deepen.

“What's the matter baby?” he asked, voice low and somehow hoarse as he saw you wrap your arms around yourself and take a step back from him. A flush of hurt was visible in his eyes and you didn't like that it felt good to see it, but it was what it was.

“No first, let me ask you a question Chris.” you took a deep breath, trying to straighten your back “Do you know what day it is today?”

“Friday, why are you-”

“Oh so you do know, splendid! Then you haven't lost track of the date and you certainly haven't lost your phone or anything because you would have mentioned it when I brought it up. Which means you haven't been checking it or have checked, seen my calls, and didn't bother. Both of which, especially today, are equally bad. So, to sum it up-” you let out a shaky sigh “You don't give a damn about me anymore.”

“What?” he blinked in surprise “Where did that-”

“You know it's Friday and we always make plans for Friday night, always Chris. You make sure to text me about it first thing in the morning every single time. No matter where we are, even when we cannot be together, because we had promised. You had, Chris, because you knew. You knew how important it was to me to know even in the most simple way that my partner cares, you knew how much I needed that and I never asked for more never cared for more than just an hour out of your day, you knew better than anyone what I've gone through, and you promised Chris!” you pressed your fingers over your pursed lips when you realized you'd let yourself get carried away, raising your voice was not something you wanted. His eyes did widen this time and his eyebrows shot up.

You shook your head and made sure to wipe any sort of emotion from your face. Mostly caring to wipe out the proof of pain, that is, which you had been constantly feeling, because you were absolutely fine with him seeing the anger. If he managed to attribute it to your jealousy as well then you didn't care, you were beyond that now. If only it was as easy for the tears to be concealed.

You looked at him, and despite your red-rimmed eyes, your voice was low and cold “You always made sure to call. For the past three years. You never missed a single day. Until today. But of course-” you laughed bitterly, your words laced with venom as you nearly glared at him “You already made plans with somebody else, didn't you honey?”

“What- No, I-” he shook his head, eyebrows knitted together and baby blue eyes glistening with sadness and, dare you say, guilt “That's not what it looks like. Really, if this is about it then I promise I- (Y/n), of course you're welcome!”

“Welcome where? Cause I don't feel welcome anywhere in your life, Chris, let alone around her. And no it's clearly not just about this, but how would you even know how you've been making me feel all this time when you're hardly ever around, Chris?” you hissed before looking away from him.

“Hardly ever around?” you didn't know if your words hurt him as much as angered him, based on the way his eyes darkened with anger “Given that you do the same job, I didn't think you'd just show up like this only to pick a fight over something you know I have little control over. These days are harder on me and you know it, you can't really blame me for that! I was doing interviews all day and in between breaks I was so tired I forgot to check even my own phone, I didn't know that's a crime now.”

“So you do think that that's really what I'm trying to say here huh? Wow.” you blinked several times “You think you're the only one having a hard time, Chris? You have no idea about how hard of a time I am having then. No idea how emotionally exhaustion this new role is or how tired I am all the time. No idea how despite all that, I still can't go to sleep lately. And insomnia doesn't even begin to cover it, because of the doubts and constant thinking that I do and you're not there Chris, during any of it. You have no idea about any of it but I mean, how could you? We barely even talk anymore and no!” you raise your hands to stop him “It is not because of this job, it is because of her that all this is happening.”

“H-her?” he frowned in confusion before you saw the realization set down on him and a small sigh escape his lips “Ana? Really, this is all about that? (Y/n), you were always above this, you've never had a jealous fit. We both know I'm just spending some time with a friend, there is nothing more to that. There could never be, how could you ever believe otherwise?”

“How?” you couldn't stop a scoff “Really? You ask how? Oh my gosh, Chris, she is flirting with you nonstop! I have seen the looks and touches and everything, you can't be that oblivious. No I refuse to believe it. For the love of, that was the exact way I acted around you at first! It's crystal clear that she likes you and flirts with you and asks you out all the time and you- you're encouraging this! Chris, you spent twice the time with her than with me and I clearly don't mean work. You're constantly out with her, you do nothing to stop it and even when you're supposed to do something for the two of us you- you go and put her first. And only on second thought, as if to do me a favor, you think to invite me over because oh poor her she'll spend our night all alone. Honestly-” you laughed humorlessly “I wonder who's really your girlfriend after all. Or better yet-” you paused, hesitating for only half a second because maybe you were too hurt and the part of you that was angry was easily controlling your words but you didn't hold it back.

What is the point in being your girlfriend in the first place?

You heard him take a sharp breath in, his eyes and face all showing unbelievable guilt and pain at your words as if it was finally downing him the extent of his mistake. But you didn't let yourself feel sorry even for a second and if he really deserved a taste of his own medicine he was going to get it.

“I didn't know I- I made you feel this way.” his voice was shaky and you could see the beginning of tears make his eyes glisten. You were probably too cruel but so was reality and everything you had been experiencing so when he took a step forward you took one backwards as well. “Honey-” he made to touch you but you shifted away and he didn't insist, although his hands were shaking and his eyes were wide, he forced himself to stay calm you “You know that... I- I love you more than anything.”

“Do I?”seeing the way his lips fell apart but he shook his head and tried to get it together.

“(Y/n), hear me out please.” his hands were shaking and he let out a trembling breath as he ran his fingers through his hair.

He finally got the courage to back up “You know that I love, that will never- it can never change, no matter what. I would never do something like that to you, certainly not knowingly. I'm not that kind of man, I would never be and even more so not to you! You know how important you are to me, goodness, I love you with all my heart! I've loved you for years, nothing can take it away. It breaks me to think I made you feel like this, hell to even realize you're jealous--” he scoffed angrily but you could see it was directed at nobody else but himself as he ran a hand down his face “It's not anywhere near flattering or funny or cute when I see you like this. I shouldn't have let it get this far, it's my fault you feel like this, I know, but I promise-”

“Promise?” you breathed out, your voice barely above a whisper but somehow more effective than any screaming or jealousy fit you could throw as it made him stop on the instant, lips pressing shut “I think I've had enough of promises, Chris, don't you think?”

“Baby, I- I-” he frowned, not understanding how this had gotten so bad and maybe that was somehow comforting - certainly preferable to him encouraging her flirting knowingly or as a joke “I love you.”

“And I love you, but this-” you let out a shaky breath, shrugging numbly “It's not even jealousy, not anymore. Was it at first? Yes, yes it was. You're my boyfriend and you spent more time with her, out for drinks with Ana, out for a dinner with Ana and maybe some costar, interviews with Ana and talking in between breaks with Ana, letting Ana calm you down and comfort you when I-” you sighed “But as I said, not anymore. At this point... I don't have it in me to feel anything at all.”

“So-” you took hold of your things again “You can go ahead and have your fun and you don't have to feel sorry for me-” you hated how you sniffled but remained proud for how put together you still were “I hoped things were different but don't worry, I do know there is someone out there that at least wants my company, my presence in their life. I won't doubt that. I wished it was you but... what can you do?”

“Wh-what?” he breathed out shakily, his voice gruff as he slowly came to realize what you meant “What do you me-”

“Bye Chris, hope I'll see you... sometime within the next week, if you decide to show up at our place.” you gave him a tight-lipped smile before you rushed away.

He tried to reach out for you but you were faster, and him being still in shock and a mess of emotions, didn't have time to catch up with you. He stood in his place for a good few seconds, his heart hammering in his chest, eyes burning, lungs hurting and mind foggy. It didn't even register when he heard Ana speak to him, asking whether everything was alright, and him brushing her off with a small mumble before closing the door, maybe a bit too in her face but doesn't bring himself to care, and asking for some time alone. All the time he couldn't help but wonder how it all had gotten to this.

“Who...” he could only hear himself whisper with a deep frown, the thoughts running through his mind nowhere near pleasant as your words echoed again and again in his mind. He wanted to be even a bit angry, and maybe he was deep down underneath all this, but he couldn't fight the ache in his chest, the deep burn of jealousy which oh stung a lot, and ultimately the hurt than ran deep - even deeper when he realized that this was how he had made you feel - inevitably it brought a feeling of self-loathing as well.

But when he heard the small thud, of something falling, he realized it wasn't really a matter of who. He didn't even have the right to be angry at whoever was making you feel good, welcome and at ease; hell even if they made you feel wanted and desired, he had it coming and he even deserved it as much as he deserved the bitter taste in his mouth and jealousy in his heart. It was him who was at fault, him who had screwed up everything.

Looking down he saw the small object that had fallen from his pocket where he always kept it with him the past couple days, secured and safe away from eyes that could find it before it was the right time. He wanted to scoff bitterly at the thought, would he get the chance to find one after all?

“So much for a surprise huh?” he asks practically noone as he opens the box and takes the ring to toy with between his fingers.

[cazzyvintage]

...I didn't know if this would be something you would write, but it's pride and I was hoping you might write something where Laszlo learns that his fiancée or his wife is bi when she reveals she was previously involved with another woman, or she explains she's also attracted to women. If not it's okay too!! Thanks oh in advance if you do write it though!!! 🥺

Of course! I've daydreamed about this before, being bi myself, so I'll love to be able to write it up! Happy pride 🏳️‍🌈

- You knew your husband was accepting of all sorts of people, it was in his nature and his profession to meet all sorts of people, of genders and sexualities. You knew deep down Laszlo would have no problem knowing you were attracted to women just as much as you were attracted to men. Yet you found yourself unable to tell the man, though you had been courting and now married for a year.

- It wasn't as if you were deliberately meaning to hide it from him, it's just you reached a point so far into the relationship that he would have questions about why you didn't tell him sooner and you weren't sure how you would answer that. You'd dated women in the past, your last relationship being with a nice looking woman, but her beauty made up for the manipulative personality she had. You should have seen it earlier but you were at least thankful you were able to escape her when you had the chance.

- You always feared a day where you might run into her again. For while New York was a large place, fate often had it you would run into someone you never wanted to, at the most inconvenient times. Such was life and such was how your life played out.

- You and Laszlo were attending a very important party, one that put the two of you in high regard and one you had to retain professionalism in order to gain a good reputation among the higher society. All things were going well until you turned around and your eyes landed upon her. She stood talking to some people, drink in hand, but as she left the gaze of someone upon her, she turned around and looked directly at you and a smirk appeared on her face.

- Though you turned from her to seek out Laszlo, she had already reached you before you had the chance for much else and so you were forced to put on a smile as you engaged in polite conversation. You couldn't help but admire how her beauty was still prevalent, even after all this time apart and you almost felt a pull to looks downwards but you kept your eyes steady, for her smirk was what grounded you, her smirk reminded you of the manipulative person she truly was,

- As she lamented about how much she missed seeing you, and now much she regretted losing contact with you. While you attempted to zone away from her incessant talking, you were pulled back with a jump when you suddenly felt her hand upon your arm. What could be taken as a friendly gesture from others but you knew that wasn't the intention.

- It wasn't too long after that when Laszlo finally appeared beside you, two drinks in his hand to offer you one. The woman's eyes widen in surprise, exclaiming she had no idea you were married, and while Laszlo shot you a quizzical look for not apparently informing this acquaintance of yours he politely introduced himself to her. The woman started ranting to him about how good friends the two of you were, how close you had been and how much she had adored you and was ashamed the two of you had fallen out of touch.

- This left Laszlo confused as to why you had never mentioned the woman before and so he reasonably assumed there was more to the story, something you couldn't; discuss though in present company. For the rest of the evening, she wouldn't leave you alone. Whenever Laszlo tried to be beside you, spent time alone with you, she would whisk you away from him, insisting you needed to meet someone. You truly tried to escape her tight grasp upon you, but she wouldn't relent, and there was nothing you could do without causing a scene.

- She pushed it too far however when blind man's buff was a party game people were eager to start. Though usually the man was blindfolded she insisted upon herself to be blinded and that she would case 'the men' you and Laszlo wanted no part in the game and choose to stand to the side but instantly she headed directly towards you. Each time you moved out of her way, she seemed to follow you. You audibly gasped when her outreached hand grazed against your chest, though you had made it plain to her that it was you she was chasing and not one of the men.

- Laszlo was instantly by your side, reprimanding the woman and he guided you out of the room, no longer caring you two were leaving the party early. He didn't want that woman around you anymore making you uncomfortable. He guided you into the calash and sat opposite you as you avoided his gaze.

- "You and this woman. It was more than friendship" he stated and you sighed knowing your avoidance had caught up with you. Finally, you'd have to admit your attraction to women to him and you suddenly felt very nervous for what he would say next as you nodded your head. "I have no problem about that, people should be allowed to be attracted to whoever they wanted to be. I do myself have occasionally felt a pull towards a person of my own sex. I'm only disappointed in myself that you didn't trust me enough to tell me this before"

- You glanced up surprised, into Laszlo earnest eyes because of his confession, and because of his disappointment. Quickly you shook your head and moved over to sit beside him, taking his hand in yours. "You have nothing to be disappointed with. Rather I'm not sure why I never told you before, perhaps it's because of that woman, she scared me from ever talking about such things. I'd worry she would come back and wreak havoc if I ever admitted to such things. But never was it for one second because I was afraid of you and your reaction Laszlo. I know you, and I know just how kind-hearted you are"

- He chuckles bashfully, "Such kind compliments" he'd whisper as he squeezes his hand in yours, and leant forward to press a kiss upon your lips. He was happy you finally had told him your truth and he would make sure, not only to ensure that woman would never come near you again but to love you for who you were.

A/N: I hope this was okay! Feeling tiredness creep in as I started writing it.

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