#One day i'll learn what facial expressions are

[emmybeearts]

What a lovely couple :)

Request for @we-dont-talk-about-potato-nonono of their lovely OC’s (Click for better resolution)

[steddie-as-they-come]

Eddie's hanging out in Family Video during Steve and Robin's shift, just being a general nuisance, when it begins.

The other two are talking in low voices in the back corner, discussing something Eddie can't hear. Normally he'd get up and go over there, insert himself into the conversation, command their attention, but he's too busy judgmentally rifling through Family Video's paltry horror movie supply to care that much.

He sneaks a glance over, and then he sees it.

Steve presses a kiss to Robin's forehead.

Eddie has to drop the tape he's holding before he does something stupid like break it out of jealousy.

And he knows, okay, he's heard it no less than eight million times, they're platonic with a capital P. That doesn't stop the little green monster in his chest from rearing its head.

It doesn't stop there, either. Eddie starts to see Steve kiss the rest of the Party. Simple little forehead kisses and temple kisses and kisses on the crowns of their heads, like he's their parent, which, well, he is. He does it when Dustin needs comfort. He slings an arm around Lucas and pulls him close for a kiss on the temple when Lucas makes a particularly good shot for basketball. He does it to Max, on one of her bad days. He even does it to Mike absentmindedly, who makes a feral screech like an angry cat before everyone starts to laugh at him. And of course, he and Robin are always all over each other.

But he won't kiss Eddie.

It's stupid that he expects it. They don't know each other. Steve's been with this group, been saving them from monsters and scientists and torturers for forever.

Eddie still wants in on it. If only to indulge his pathetic little crush on the former King of Hawkins High.

One night, Steve hosts a movie night, and Dustin invites Eddie along. He goes, because of course he does, and takes a seat on the end of the couch as Steve puts in the tape.

Eddie immediately forgets what the movie is, because Steve sits down next to him. His entire brain is a fuzzy kind of static that only intensifies when Steve scoots closer.

"Sorry," is the first word Eddie registers out of Steve's mouth, and he hastily tries to collect his thoughts. Steve moves closer, which doesn't help.

He peers around Steve and sees the kids all trying to squish onto the couch. "Scoot over, Eddie!" Mike shouts, and Eddie moves as close as he can to the arm of the couch. Steve follows, arm around him and thighs pressed close together.

Okay, then. Eddie can die happily tonight, apparently.

Something jumps at the screen, and Steve flinches.

Eddie learns a new thing about Steve that night. Apparently, when Steve gets frightened, he pulls everyone within reach towards him, like he's trying to shield them with his body. Eddie finds himself hugged to Steve's chest and has to employ breathing exercises to get rid of his new little...problem.

He somehow makes it through the movie without spontaneously combusting, a feat nothing short of a miracle. The kids run to the kitchen and Eddie can hear Dustin pick up the phone and say, "Hello, Paulie's Pizza?"

Steve sighs and gets up. "I did not say they could order pizza," he grumbles. He extends his hand to Eddie, and after a second of bewildered staring, Eddie manages to grab it and pull himself to standing.

Robin's sitting on the couch still (she had been on the other side of Steve), and she watches this interaction with an unreadable expression on her face.

Well, unreadable to Eddie, anyway. Steve and Robin proceed to have an entire conversation with just facial expressions, and Eddie is left in the dark about it.

Steve finally rolls his eyes and stalks into the kitchen. He distracts Dustin with a kiss on the top of his head, then steals the phone. "Hi, yeah," he says, and Eddie recognizes that voice as his King-Steve-takes-what-he-wants voice. "No, that's right. Two medium pepperoni pizzas and a side of garlic knots, yep."

He listens, then says, "I'll be over to pick it up," then places the phone back on the receiver with a click.

"I'm going to get the food." he announces to the room at large. "Eddie, you coming?"

"Sure?" Eddie slings his leather jacket from the back of one of the kitchen table chairs and slides his sneakers on.

The drive is quiet. Multiple times, it looks like Steve wants to say something, but he never does. When the two of them walk in to get the pizza, Steve grabs both boxes. "Can you get the door, Eds?"

Eddie wants to tease him about the new nickname, but he chooses not to, opting instead to nod and say, "Sure thing, Stevie." He pulls open the glass door and says, with a mock bow and a grand gesture, "Your majesty."

Steve rolls his eyes. "Thanks." He (finally!!) goes to kiss Eddie.

However, Eddie is not as short as the kids (and Robin) who Steve normally does this to. Eddie's pretty sure the kiss is supposed to land on his forehead.

It lands on his mouth.

Pretty shoddy kiss, as it were. Mostly, Steve kisses the corner of Eddie's mouth.

Both of their faces burn red. If not for Steve's sports-playing, monster-killing reflexes, the pizzas would be on the ground right now.

"Sorry!" Steve says, hurrying out to his car and tossing the food in the backseat. "Sorry, I don't know what I was thinking."

Eddie slides into the passenger seat. "Finally!" he says.

"What?"

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Steve, I've been the only one who you haven't been bestowing kisses upon for weeks now. Sorry if I'm excited to be included in the group."

Steve starts the car. "But...those are all platonic kisses."

Eddie scoffs. "What, and kissing me wouldn't be?"

Steve is silent.

"REALLY?" Eddie yells. "Wait, wait-" He leans over the center console. "Steve Harrington, if you wanted a kiss, a romantic kiss, you could have told me before cuddling with me all night!"

Steve sighs. "Fine. Eddie Munson, I'm going to kiss you romantically."

And he leans in.

Eddie's obsessed with the curve and dip of Steve's mouth against his. He greedily cups his hand against Steve's face, his other hand propped up against the center console. Steve tastes like the soda he was drinking earlier, mixed with something richer and deeper that's wholly, entirely Steve.

They break apart at a small crackle from Steve's inner pocket.

"Henderson," Steve says exasperatedly. "That kid is so damn impatient."

"Steve!" Dustin's voice comes from the walkie Steve pulls out. "Have you gotten the pizza yet?"

"Yes, you little shit, we're coming back now." Steve sighs. "Oh! Henderson, find Robin. Tell her it happened."

Eddie shoots Steve a confused look, but Steve just holds up a placating hand, a slight smile on his face.

"OH MY GOD STEVE!" comes Robin's voice on the walkie. "HELL YEAH!"

Steve cackles and leans back in to kiss Eddie, who happily accepts.

[unknownati]

iv. ekko x gn!black!reader hcs

a/n: they got me yall.

sorry for whoever followed me for tlou content we'll be having a brief intermission i'll come back to them in a minute js let me get this out my system 😭🙏🏾

warnings/tags: no use of y/n, no mention of reader's features (except for being black, but it's only in a few points 🤷🏾‍♀️ so it can be read otherwise), arcane s2 spoilers (minor), sfw and nsfw hcs, (oral sex, kinks, riding), in some au where everyone is happy and nothing bad ever happened 😊, never proofread we ball 🔥

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sfw:

- i feel like ekko is a bit shy (awkward shy though, not shy-shy...does that make sense) when you first get into a relationship with him, and it's just because he's shocked that he's managed to get with you. at first he's stumbling over words, playing off your compliments, desperately trying to keep eye contact with you but if he does he just keeps smiling because you look so good.

-one time, while riding past you on his hoverboard, you waved at him. he waved back, but even as you walked away his eyes kept following you. if it wasn't for scar warning him at the last second, he would've crashed straight into a wall.

- his cockiness comes later into your relationship, every successful action he does followed by a grin that you roll your eyes at.

-and did y'all see the way he looked at powder in ep. 7? his puppy dog eyes are LETHAL.

-he doesn't even know it either. every time he wants something, he just looks at you with those eyes and murmurs "please, ☆?" you fold so quick.

-(you've tried to learn to resist his eyes as they are what caused you to sprain your ankle in a hoverboarding accident since he begged you to race him. he just wanted to show off, too. he didn't stop apologizing for weeks.)

-he usually doesn't really like people touching his hair. he's fine with the kids doing it from time to time, but in general it's not his favorite thing in the world.

-you, however

-you get a pass because you get it. you know how it feels for your hair to just be like a petting zoo from time to time. you know exactly how to help him care for his hair, so much so that he's stopped doing his own retwists. (not like they stay in for very long, you immediately help him sweat it out 😊)

-he's made a lot of random little things for you, like a small chain necklace with an empty locket. he kind of sucks at wrapping gifts though, so he just handed it to you with a stupid smile while you two were perched at the top of the firelight tree.

-"ekko, this is so cute," you mutter, your bottom lip jutted out in adoration as you inspect the delicately crafted chain. small mistakes here and there, but you loved it.

-he also learned how to sew just so he could make you a bonnet/durag. he even sewed a crude little "e" in the corner of it, and made himself one with your initial in it as well.

-will randomly shadow box you out of no where. it's some form of cuteness aggression or something, because you'll be talking about your day while absent-mindedly twiddling with the hem of your shirt, and suddenly there are fists flying towards you that he knows to never let connect.

-"...ekko, the fuck are you doing?"

-he makes small noises that sound like "shoo" every time his fist flies, watching you stare at him with an unimpressed look.

-saw someone else say this but yeah ekko can't hoop. sorry

-he CANNOT hide his facial expressions. he may tell you one thing, but his face will never lie. if you're out eating and you feed him a bite of your food, you can watch his face contort into one of disgust, so much so that he almost looks offended. upon realizing that he doesn't want to yuck your yum, he'll fix his face into the fakest smile you've ever seen and nod.

-"...ekko, go spit it out."

-you've never seen him reach for a napkin any quicker.

-idk who the arcane universe's michael jackson is but, when he was younger he absolutely learned all the dances.

-probably the biggest softie the world has ever seen. he's very tough in public, but once he closes the door behind you two and climbs into bed with you, he's clinging onto you like a sloth.

-if you like painting your nails, he'll (hesitantly) allow you to paint his nails to match yours.

-(these next few ones are sliiightly for me 🤭)

-loves when you draw on his arms.

-until he can't get whatever marker you used off of his skin in the shower, so now he's walking around looking like a coloring book with little flowers, hearts, and signatures on his arms.

-he hangs up all the drawings you make of him up along his work space. sometimes he forgets one and leaves it on his desk, so it's a pleasant surprise to find a drawing of himself among scattered and disorganized papers while he was cleaning up.

-has gotten used to you randomly biting him. you'll come up behind him while he's working, and he already knows it's coming when you rest your chin on his exposed shoulder. 2 seconds later, your teeth are sinking into his skin. he just chuckles, but he does ask once.

-"why do you do that?"

-"oh, i dunno. i just like doing it. 's how you know i like you."

nsfw (very brief i'm sorry):

-praise kink. you couldn't tell me otherwise

-loves giving praise, loves receiving praise.

-when he's giving you head, he almost does it for his own pleasure. feeling your hand rub against his undercut while you whine and mutter "fuuuck, ekko, you're so good. don't stop please" is all he needs

-and i'm glad we've all agreed he's a thigh guy too 🙌🏾

-and IK we say this about every fictional man but HE WHIMPERS.

-he starts off with groans and grunts, but the closer he gets, the more his voice starts to shake and his words start to become whines.

-he looooves when you ride him holy shit

-looking up at you while your face contorts in pleasure is absolutely on his top 10.

-and if you stare into his eyes while you do it? his soul has left thanks!

-in general he loves eye contact. when you look up at him with his length between your lips, you can see his brain start to short-circuit.

-he's definitely the type to make sure you finish first before he even gets to think about his own pleasure.

-he's usually super sleepy afterwards too, but he refuses to lay down for a second until he makes sure you're all cleaned up and comfortable before he's out cold on your chest.

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[unclewaynemunson]

After Vecna is defeated and the world goes back to normal for good, Steve thinks he can get on with his life. And for a while that's exactly what happens: his scars heal and, against everything he would have ever expected, Eddie heals right beside him.

But a year later, his life gets turned upside down in a whole new way. He gets one more hit to the head. It's a stupid accident, really, something involving a broken lightbulb, an old stepladder and an unfortunate fall. He loses pretty much all his sight. His once expressive brown eyes become hollow shells, one staring right ahead and one turned sideways, but both equally useless.

At first, the darkness is scary. It's frustrating, to be robbed of one of the few things he could always rely on. He has to get to know the world around him in a whole new way. There are days when he hates it, days when he wants to stay in bed in his room forever. There are days when he wants to scream, even days when he wants to cut his own eyes out like Victor Creel did before him.

But slowly, little by little, he learns to live with it. He grows a new appreciation for beautiful music and good food, things that stimulate his other senses that he now relies more heavily on. He develops a sharp ear for people's voices and intonations to make up for the loss of seeing their facial expressions. Where he used to love seeing Robin's bright eyes and Dustin's excited smile, he now treasures the sound of Dustin's laughter and the scent of Robin's cologne.

The one thing he will never stop missing, though, is Eddie's face. The way his eyes light up when he smiles. The way his mouth curves into that mischievous grin that Steve once fell in love with. The way his fluffy curls cascade over his back. Those are the things he misses the most.

There's a lot that makes up for that loss: he can cling to Eddie's arm whenever he wants, without having to worry about people taking their affectionate touches the wrong way. He gets to rely on Eddie's helping hand and to bask in Eddie's scent. And, most importantly: he gets to listen to Eddie's voice all the time, when he describes what's happening around them in lively phrases and with passion in his voice like the true storyteller he is.

“Do you know that there's one thing you're always leaving out when you're describing things to me?” Steve asks him one day, when he feels Eddie's hands move through the air around them during his excited monologue about the orange cat that is currently visiting their garden, chasing after butterflies and going after its own tail in the flowerbeds.

“Huh?” Eddie sounds confused.

“You're always leaving out the most important part,” Steve continues. He lifts his hand and slowly moves it to find Eddie's face. He feels his curls underneath his fingertips, then slides them further over Eddie's features.

“What do you mean, Stevie?”

“You never mention how you look. Only what you see. But if I could see, I'd be looking at you, Eddie. I'd watch your face. I can still remember that curve of your mouth, that crease between your eyebrows...” He lets his hand linger on the places he mentions. “But it's all becoming less clear. I'll never see it again. I don't wanna lose that.”

Steve feels his hand getting covered by another one, lets his fingers be guided across Eddie's cheek.

“You won't,” Eddie tells him softly. “There's no way I'll let you lose that.”

Steve can already feel the change in temperature underneath his fingers before Eddie speaks.

“I'm blushing right now, Stevie. Cause of what you said. And...” He guides Steve's hand further down over the uneven skin of his scarred cheek. “I'm smiling. Just a little bit. Not that wide smile I have when I'm messing with you, but the smaller one, the one that's just for you.”

Eddie squeezes his hand before he lets go. A moment later, his lips brush softly against Steve's, something that's not quite a kiss. Steve can feel that Eddie is about to pull back before it becomes anything more, but he presses back into Eddie's space, chases his warm lips with his own, and wraps his arms around Eddie's body to pull him closer.

Kissing is best without looking anyway.

[cuteandhughesy]

Let It Happen | Mark Estapa

summary: fighting for the best seat in class with mark wasn't your first choice - neither is having to tutor him in the midst of it.

18.6 K

warnings: SFW! academia! tutor x jock | enemies to lovers | angst | umich!mark | college!au | suggestive comments + themes | unwanted touching + harassment | read at your own discretion

link to masterlist

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row 5, 10 seats in: your ideal spot in any lecture hall. you've found that during your time at the university of michigan, that exact seat always proved to be the most practical. the viewing angle of the board was always perfect - not too close to the front to be picked on, but not too far back that you needed your glasses. not many people chose that area in a lecture hall - either opting for the first three rows or the very back, meaning you typically weren't bumping elbows with anybody while taking notes.

so in your junior year of university when you noticed your psychology class was in room 293 (a room you'd had classes in previously) that first day, you took your seat proudly in row 5, 10 seats in. you knew you'd get your perfect seat - meaning you'd have no problem in succeeding with a productive academic semester.

that is until you walked in on the second day of classes and a head of dirty blonde hair, accompanied by broad shoulders and big hands was found sitting comfortably in your seat.

you slow in your steps, feeling your facial expression fall as you take him in. he's looking to his right, not even paying attention to you - legs outstretched and books spread out in your seat.

it's fine, you think, tomorrow you'll just get here earlier to take your desired spot. today, you decide, you'll settle for a different seat.

then, the mystery boy turns his head in your direction and you think your face falls even more. mark estapa was in your seat.

you knew of mark through mutual friends. you weren't friends with him or anything, but you're sure you've probably smiled in passing before.

seeing mark in your seat made you feel....irritated. because even if he didn't know it was your unassigned assigned seat - wouldn't he much rather dick around in the back with his teammates? why did he need to be in the perfect academic position when he probably couldn't care less about the class.

"is this your seat or something?" marks deep voice has you blinking hard, snapping yourself out of your head.

your brows pull together, and you tug on the strap of your book bag laying heavy on your shoulder. "what?"

he shrugs, "you're looking at me all weird - like I just kicked a puppy or something. so I just assumed i'm in 'your' seat." mark air quotes the word your, and it has you squinting at him irritatedly, lips forming into a pull of disgust.

"why'd you say it like that?"

he laughs slightly, and it makes your stomach swirl unpleasantly. mark shrugs, toying with one of his ink pens between two thick fingers. "you just look like the type to have some weird thing about where you sit."

you scoff gently, taking a step closer to the wolverines forward. "I'll have you know, that seat 10 in row 5 is quite literally the perfect spot for learning - there are studies that prove it. I take great pride in my grades - so yeah, I guess you could say I have 'some weird thing about where I sit'" you use air quotations to mimic his earlier ones, which makes mark breathe one quiet chuckle, eyes meeting the ceiling quickly before finding yours again.

you're looking at him expectantly, arms crossed and brows raised.

"is that right?" mark questions.

you nod, "mhm."

"looks like I beat you to it then."

your mouth falls and that makes mark's cheeky smile widen. "might as well just sit there," he gestures to the empty chair next to him, "because today, i'll be getting the benefits from sitting in the perfect seat for learning."

you bite your tongue, wordlessly (and rather aggressively) taking the empty spot next to your seat. "mhm yup." you hum quietly, eyeing the professor as he makes his way into the classroom, "enjoy it today -because it will be the last time you sit in that spot."

you feel marks eyes on the side of your face. "we'll see about that," he smirks, slowly turning his attention back to the front of the classroom.

tomorrow, you think, you'll be back in your seat - mark be damned.

class 2

the next class day - you do get your seat. if that wasn't a sweet enough victory in itself, you also get to watch mark tongue his cheek in annoyance at the sight.

he slows in his steps in the aisle, eyes very much on you in the desired seat. you send him a teasing smile, watching his irritation grow - it's practically radiating off his large body as he tosses himself down in the seat you had to painfully endure last class.

when he roughly pulls everything out of his book back, your victorious smile grows.

throughout the lesson, you make a show of spreading out your books with enthusiasm and making sure you sigh with content whenever you shuffled or moved in your seat.

all mark can do is smirk to himself, barley looking over towards you when you move or make a noise. his smirk is evident though, and you can't help but catch it.

you're surprised that mark even chose to sit beside you after he'd seen you in the seat. you assumed after rightfully taking back your seat, he'd move rows completely - choosing the back of the class with luke hughes and ethan edwards - but no.

you know now that he was trying to take your spot again - purposely this time. the thought has you angry and you have to grit your teeth anytime mark shuffles around - the urge to curse him out for being an idiot threatening to spill out.

you're determined now to not back down from keeping your assigned unassigned seat - your academic well being depended on it.

when class finally ends and the professor dismisses you all, mark turns towards you - looking smug in a way that has you snaring. you think he may say something about the seat, or perhaps even apologize for destroying your peace all class. but instead, "game on," mark deadpanned, grabbing his book bag and hauling it  over one shoulder.

you laugh sarcastically, gathering your laptop and slipping it into your own bag. mark doesn't get too far away from you before you decide to respond. "can't play when you can't compete," you hum.

mark stops walking, eyeing you over his shoulder with that same stupid smirk on his face.

you don't stick around for him to say anything else, your shoulder brushing his sweater covered chest as you move past him.

class 3

the night before, you make sure you're alarm is set half and hour earlier than usual - and you check it at least 4 times before going to sleep: you were getting that damn seat even if it meant waking around like a zombie from loosing that extra bit of rest.

you woke frantically that morning, rushing through your brief morning routine so you could ensure you'd get out the door as quickly as possible - determined to get to class before mark - get to your seat before mark could wrongfully take it.

you walk through your psychology lectures door way with a victorious smile already on your face - happy that you will once again be more academically inclined for your class.

you look over to your row and slowly, and your smile fades as you resist the urge to scream.

mark is already there.

in your seat.

nobody else is in the lecture hall yet, and fair enough, you think, because it's still too early. you thought it was too early for anybody else besides yourself to get there....but you were wrong.

mark has all his books out on the small table infront of him, laptop open and ready on a blank document. there's a half drunken cold brew on his desk as well, meaning he's been awake long enough to not only beat you to class but get a drink on the way.

worst of all, mark is already looking at you - his body turned towards the entrance of the lecture hall like he's been waiting for you to arrive and watch the joy fade from your eyes.

you grit your teeth in irritation, slowly and with as much calmness you can manage, make your way to him.

"good morning," he chimes happily, eyes not leaving your face as you approach the seat.

you let your bag slip off your shoulder, hitting the floor beside his sneakers. sourly, you take the open seat right next to him.

"thought i'd get up early today." mark continues, picking up his coffee and taking an obnoxiously loud sip.

your glare at him before taking out your books.

two can play at this game, you think.

class 4

you've underestimated the michigan athlete once again. showing up that next week, 20 minutes earlier that the previous time - only to see mark there in your seat... again.

he's taken a more theatrical (and blood boiling) approach this class, with his long gangly legs propped up on the seat of the desks to his left and his arms behind his head - leisurely resting on not only your seat but the one you'd be stuck with beside it.

you scoff as you get close, eyeing his long legs on the desks, "must you look so proud?"

"oh, I must." mark says.

class 5

you can barley keep your eyes open because of how little sleep you've had, but the exhaustion is so worth it.

the morning of your class, you woke up ridiculously early - so early that your roommate sabrina was barley just asleep. so early you're sure mark wouldn't even dare think of waking up.

and yeah, you had to skip over the hair brushing, make up and the presentable clothing step in your morning routine, but you didn't care. all you cared about was getting to your lecture hall before anybody else could.

when you hear shoes squeaking to a halted stop an hour or so after you arrived to class, your tired eyes snap open. mark is looking at you with a shocked expression, his eyes processing the sight you in your seat already.

quickly, his expression changes. mark makes his way to you, squinting curiously at you as he analyses your pale skin. "you look tired." he states, sitting down.

you shrug nonchalantly, flipping your very much unrbushed hair over your shoulder. "you must be mistaking my victorious expression for one of fatigue."

mark hisses through his teeth, eyeing you once more. "careful, what good does the perfect seat have if you can't even stay awake to bask in its greatness."

class 8

in your last few psychology lecture races, you beat mark 2 wins to 1 in your shared seat debacle. you're still surprised he got his one win with how early you'd been waking up and getting to the classroom.

the feeling of victory has not gotten old though, and you have to picture marks face full of disappointment when you're feeling exhausted from your lack of full nights.

the look of pure irritation on the wolverines superstar player anytime he realized you'd beaten him to the lecture hall - the way you wiggled your fingers in a gentle wave in his direction as you happily occupied your seat - it was really fulfilling.

when you told sabrina about your and marks little tiff with your seat, she expressed how she thought it was dumb idea. sabrina said waking up early and loosing sleep over a seat in class wasn't going to help anybody's academics. as well, she says that arguing and taunting somebody as popular as mark estapa wasn't a good decision on your part because there was no good to come from it.

but you couldn't seem to care about any kind of consequence. you didn't care how popular he was, or how much he liked you - all you could think about was marks irritating smirk and big body plopped in your seat - tainting its essence.

the seat war would continue until mark gave up - you were determined.

it was another successful class morning of beating mark. your and mark's arrival kept getting earlier each time, but somehow you kept managing to just be that little bit earlier than him.

you're sipping your redbull delicately as he walks into the lecture hall, hiding your growing smirk behind the rim of the can as you watch mark deflate at the sight of your in the seat.

he curses quietly to himself before he makes his way towards you. "are you sleeping here or something?" he huffs annoyed, sitting heavily in the chair beside you.

you shrug nonchalantly, dusting off the imaginary debris from the hardcover of your psychology textbook. "no," you hum. then in all seriousness, you pause, directing your gaze towards him as you continue, "- but I wouldn't hesitate sleeping outside this classroom for this seat, mark."

slowly and with disbelief, mark puts his notebook down infront of him, eyes not leaving yours as he analyses you. "...you wouldn't dare."

"oh," you laugh once, "I'd dare."

he squints suspiciously at you before shaking his head once, breaking himself out of your mini staring contest. he straightens his back out, falling back against the seat - the dull thud echoing in the empty classroom.

you watch his suspicious expression change to one of curiosity and that has you feeling a bit nervous. you watch as he eyes you again, a raise to his one brow.

a beat passes.

"how do you know my name, y/n?" mark asks, a slight tug to the corner of his mouth. he sounds almost...impressed, and truly curious.

which you think is a bit odd, because who doesn't know mark estapa? not only was he on the schools hockey team and friends with some of the most popular athletes at the school (nhl stars included), but he was quite literally famous online. one time you got a tiktok edit of him...on your foryou page. you don't think you've scrolled past anything faster - the feeling of seeing clips of your classmate over a flo milli song was just too much.

instead of spewing out that inner monologue, you reach over yourself, pointer finger tapping the top of his dark green notebook - touching his name that was written out in black sharpie.

briefly, you wonder if its handwriting or somebody else's, but you also don't know why you would care, so you quickly tell your intrusive thought to get lost. you pull away, hands coming back you yourself.

mark nods in understanding, shrugging like it's an acceptable answer. "ah," he breaths, crossing his arms over his broad chest, his muscles moving under his compression top.

you blink hard, scolding yourself for letting your eyes wonder. what is wrong with you today, girl? you think. "annnnnddd how do you know my name?" you drag out, brow raises in question as you eye him.

wordlessly, mark uncrosses his arms so his hands are free. with a slight smirk, he taps the side of his head, mimicking your earlier point on his note book.

class 9:

"I should've brought you a neck pillow." are the first words your hear when you walk into room 293, marks voice making itself known as soon as your converse covered feet past the threshold of the classroom. "you know," he continues, "In case the early morning catches up to you."

you breathe out a sarcastic laugh, walking sluggishly to the dreaded 11th numbered chair beside him.

one of the worst things about waking up earlier to try and beat mark to the lecture hall was that he never even looks like he's tired - where as you looked like you just crawled from a bat cave. in the earlier mornings, mark is always smiling and looking bright eyes and bushy tailed - which has your annoyance spiking.

you choose to not say anything and you keep your tired eyes trained on the front empty hall. now you wish you stopped for a coffee, knowing it wouldn't of mattered anyway - mark had you beat. thankfully, mark doesn't say anything else, and scrolls tiktok quietly beside you. the noise is a nice distraction, and it has you feeling rather relaxed as the two of you sit together in the early morning silence.

an hour later when your classmates start arriving, you start to get your things out of your bag. reaching in you're immediately humbled feeling nothing in there. the night before, you had spilt a smoothie in your bag, and emptied everything out  to let it dry. this morning when you were rushing to get to class to beat mark to your seat (which proved unsuccessful), you had only grabbed the empty bag - leaving all your belongings at home.

you're left with no laptop, no textbooks, no notepad, not even a pen. you feel like you could cry. as the professor made his entrance, you're left with no choice but to borrow from your seat mate.

the thought of having to deal with him in the morning is already exhausting. you inhale deeply and look over at mark. you plaster on the best exaggerated grin you manage this early. "mark, can I have a pen and some paper?"

suprised, mark looks over at you. once he sees your faux smile and lack of supplies laid out, he mimicks your expression, the sarcasm of it all is practically oozing off him. "ahhhh - so now you want to talk to me."

he was trying to push your buttons, that much was obvious. you don't give in, only deepening your faux smile, even giving your head a little tilt. "well, technically I forgot my stuff because I was too preoccupied trying to get here before you could steal my seat - the least you could do Is let me borrow a pen and piece of paper because, after all, you did steal my seat."

mark tongues his cheek, the corners of his mouth tugging up in a victorious manner. a beat passes before he digs through his bag, emerging with a pen - holding it in his palm out to you. you pluck it from hand aggressively - making his smirk grow.

class 12

your psychology class has been pushed back an hour after your professor sent out an email the night before, offering his apologies after he needed to extend one of his meetings with the department.

you weren't complaining though. you were looking forward to that little bit extra sleep before getting up and trying to once again beat mark to your seat.

knowing you had that little bit of extra time, you chose to take your time walking towards the lecture hall building, sipping on your apple cider as you enjoyed the fall weather. the fall season at the university of michigan was always your favourite. there was something so magical about being away at school when the leaves were turning that resonated with you.

not too many students were around while you walked. just the odd group or individual as they made their way to their own lectures. that being said, it made spotting people very easy, as they weren't yet common.

so when you lock eyes with mark as he approaches on one of the side paths, you can't help but to curse yourself - walking too leisurely to the point of running into him.

mark slows in his steps only a few feet adjacent to you, swallowing thickly. you slow down as well, eyeing him suspiciously as he stares down at you. he clears his throat as you both come into step with one another, now walking side by side to your lecture building.

"mark." you greet quickly, eyes forward as the building comes into sight.

he nods, "y/n." mark begins to walk just a little faster at the sight of your destination, leaving you a step behind.

so you follow suit, taking quicker and bigger steps in order to keep up with mark. his legs are long and he's way more fit than you, so you're practically in a breathless jog trying to get in front of him.

"beautiful morning," you hum nonchalantly.

"the most," mark's step increase in speed as he answers you.

you curse to yourself, falling behind once again. you feel like your running at this point, desperately trying to beat mark without full on sprinting into the lecture building. you panick, knowing marks stupid long legs would have you beat in this foot race - and to your seat.

quickly, you conjure up a plan of attack. you groan behind him, crouching down and grabbing ahold of your sock covered ankle. you hiss loudly like you're hurting - loud enough for mark to hear.

he stops walking at the sound of your pain, turning around to see you bent down, nothing but discomfort on your face. mark starts walking towards you, the shiny dark oak doors to the lecture building long forgotten as he bends down to your level.

softly, he places a warm palm on your back, eyes searching yours. "hey, you okay?"

momentarily you feel guilty. he looks truly concerned for your well being and the feeling of his hand on your back isn't helping your act.

but then you remember how he quite literally stole your seat and the guilt washes away.

rather wobbly, you stand back up to your full height with the help of marks arm. you balance your weight on the ankle you were nursing, wincing as you do so.

mark still looks concerned. his brows are furrowed tightly as he watches your facial expressions, waiting for any further signs of discomfort and pain. you're pretty sure he was about to offer you a damn piggy back ride.

you sigh deeply, and then a smirk begins to pull at your lips. "nice guys finish last marky." you deadpanned.

"what?" he frowns, confused.

you take off, sprinting past him and up the stairs of the lecture hall. "the seat is mine!" you call out, pushing open the heavy doors and disappearing into the building.

class 14

you were running a little bit more behind than you preferred this morning, and you were practically running by the time you walked into psychology.

it's quiet in there, and you notice how mark isn't present. nobody is the lecture hall and even better, mark isn't in your seat. 

you let a triumphant smile overtake your bare face, and you adjust your bag so that it can finally still comfortably on your shoulder - your rush to class having your bag left to rub your shoulder raw.

then your momentary joy fades as you take in the note on the big whiteboard behind the teachers desk.

class moved to room 278.

you groan to yourself, immediately spinning on your heels to head back in the direction you had already walked through.

you can already picture mark - his smug face tucked into that beloved 10th seat in the 5th row. picturing that has you walking faster as you hope that mark wasn't too far ahead of you - or ahead of you at all.

you all but slide into the new lecture hall, slightly breathless and exhausted. you're confused, brows pulled taught as you also see this classroom empty. although it's still early, it was unlikely for absolutely nobody to have arrived.

quickly, your eyes dance around the room, finding the smaller dry erase board near the front. your lips form into an involuntary snare, your anger bubbling up as you read the note left.

would a nice guy do this? is written in blue, accompanied by a terrible drawn emoji - blowing you a kiss.

mark.

"you're fucking kidding" you whisper. you can feel your face flush with anger, deepening your irritation as you re-read(what you now realize) is marks handwriting - matching his name printed on that stupid green notebook he always uses.

you take a shaky inhale to keep yourself as calm as possible, leaving the classroom in an annoyed march - quickly making your way back to the correct classroom.

you can't even be bothered about how sweaty you've become or how your feet are beginning to ache from walking across campus three times before your first class - all your thoughts are focused on mark and his stupid prank and how he's definitely lounging in your seat - waiting for you to get back so he can bask is his prank.

most of the students are piling into the room when you arrive, but you aren't one of patience today. you weave through bodies as quickly as possible, pushing up the stairs.

there's a momentary pause on the incline and that's when you finally land your sights on his head of blonde hair, his eyes watching you in amusement.

immediately, you send him an accusing glare from your stopped position on the stairs, shaking your head in disbelief as you look at him.

mark just winks back at you - which sends your stomach turning in every possible way.

'idiot' you mouth at him. people start moving again, allowing you to finally get through the group of students and down the 5th row.

mark smirks happily, resting his chin in his large palm as he watches you sit wordlessly beside him.

class 17

you're almost out of the row of seats, your book bag slung over your shoulder -  your professor had dismissed you all for the morning. it isn't soon after making your way down the stairs, your professor says your name.

"y/n," he calls out, affectively grabbing your attention and stopping you in your tracks. "do you mind having a word?" he questions, adjusting his black framed glasses to sit higher on his nose.

you frown slightly, especially when you catch sight of mark, who seemingly has been asked to stay behind as well. mark isn't looking at you, but rather at the floor, nervously fiddling with his hands.

"sure," you hum gently, walking over towards them hesitantly. "everything okay professor?"

you can't rack your brain for anything that your professor needed to discuss with you and mark - unless, mark decided to be a total asshole about the whole seat thing, which would just be ridiculous.

"actually," the older man sighs, "there's a favour I need to ask of you." your professor eyes mark, who is standing just a few feet behind him.

"okay," you draw suspiciously, eyeing mark as well. he is still looking sheepish, eyes not meeting yours - which was, from what you gathered, very unlike mark.

in the few weeks you've been battling with mark, you've learned he is stubborn and determined - on top of that, he was very confident. the nervous act he was currently displaying had you feeling nervous.

your professor clears his throat, "mark here is having a hard time keeping his grades up in this class. obviously, it's still early in the year but his coach and I have discussed and decided it needs to be dealt with now, rather than later in the semester. this is an important class to mark's education here at the university of michigan, and he cannot have his grades slipping."

you nod slightly, your brows pulled together in confusion as you take in his words. "right, sorry, i'm just confused what that has to do with me." you admit.

the professor nods once, "yes. well, so far you have preformed excellently in my class - not only this semester, but in previous classes as well. that's why coach and I decided that you'd be the perfect choice to help mark and tutor him this semester."

neither you or mark speak, too shocked with the situation to register thoughts. the professor continues. "not only are your grades excellent, but it seems that yourself and mark happen to enjoy each others company - sitting together every class."

you face falls slightly. "seriously?"

"oh, seriously," mark finally speaks, an unreadable expression on his soft face. your professor turns to mark, a little wide eyed as if to tell him to smarten up.

mark sighs gently, "please tutor me, i'd really appreciate your help. I can't play with the team if I slip."

"i'll do it." finally, you agree, nodding a hesitant yes in their direction. immediately, your professor is joyful, giving you and mark the schedule and the study room bookings.

it was all a bit nerve wracking. knowing that you'd have to spend designated time with mark after the two of you had been purposely pushing one another's buttons was making you uneasy.

you don't show the true emotions you were currently battling - only nodding with a faux smile as the professor goes over what lesson plans you'll both start with and providing you with the upmost material you'd be needing.

you leave the classroom soon after your professor says he will email both of you with a more detailed schedule. as you walk back to your building, your mind is occupied with thoughts of tutoring mark and how you'll manage being in the same space with him without wanting to smack him.

and with your first session only a little more than 24 hours away, you'd hope to come up with a solution quickly.

tutoring lesson 1

"that makes no sense."

"that's because you're not even paying attention."

mark breaths deeply at your words, an exaggerated inhale echoing throughout the room. he runs a hand through his thick dirty blonde hair, tugging slightly at the root before releasing his grip.

you had received a text from mark only an hour before your designated study time. immediately, you frowned, because you didn't give him your number - but he had quickly followed up his initial text telling you that your professor gave it to him: invasive but you'd live.

he told you he had a game that night, so the study session would have to be fast and cut short. you gritted your teeth in irritation at his bluntness, but decided rather than telling him to fuck himself and pass the class by himself - you choose peace, responding with only the thumbs up emoji.

fast forward to right now, with you and mark in one of the campus study rooms with your class material from two weeks ago all spread out on the table infront of you.

although you could tell mark wasn't really trying to understand you, you could see true frustration behind his eyes - an indicator that he was at least trying is some capacity.

you take a deep calming breath and try again, "all you need to do is pick out the significant points of this paper and then with that information, you will write your own summary about its importance to the course."

across from you, mark is looking like a lost puppy, mouth slightly agape as he watches you explain the material for the 3rd time. it really wasn't a difficult concept to grasp, in fact, it was the easiest out of all the material you'd be going over.

you sigh gently, "listen, it should be relatively easy," you side eye him gently, his lost expression still very much present. "for some." you chime quietly.

marks mouth snaps shut, and he squints accusingly in your direction - your remark echoing in his ears. "for some," he mocks your words back at you, his voice turning all high pitched and squeaky in a way that makes you scoff.

"are you done?" you deadpanned, brows raised his his direction.

"no," mark groans for the hundredth time, his body falling back in the plastic chair. "that seat shit you read about is clearly crap - I'm not learning at all sitting there. considering it's 'the perfect spot for learning', I haven't learned shit." he air quotes your words from that second day of classes - the first time mark had stolen your seat.

"it's not crap." you state with a glare, "you have to believe it for it to work - clearly you think it's phoney. if you did believe in its natural greatness, you'd be fine - like me."

"whatever." he deadpanned, leaning back over the table - propped up on his elbows.

you bite your tongue for what feels like the millionth time since knowing mark - choosing to not snap back at his attitude.

slowly, you push the reading closer to him, slotting it between his arms, "read this again - slowly - and start with getting your significant points. that way you have that portion done before your game tonight."

wordlessly (and with another sigh, of course), mark drags the paper closer towards himself, sighing deeply as he begins to silently read.

a few minutes pass, both of you deep in school work - you creating lessons plans as well as catching up on your other classes work, while mark reads the assigned reading, occasionally jotting down points in his notebook just like you recommended he do.

your mid sectioning of a grid in your schedule, eyes squinted as you concentrate (you had already cursed yourself for forgetting your glasses). the gentle silence is interrupted, marks much too loud voice interrupting your peace.

"what's your favourite colour?" he questions, tone full of curiosity.

you can hear his pen hit the table, and slowly, you look up, eyeing mark through your lashes. your fingers pause on your laptops keyboard, "what?" you breath.

"your favourite colour. what is it?" he asks again, more firmly.

"how is this significant to our tutoring?" you question curiously, your pen resting on your bottom lip as you ponder at his sudden questioning.

"I'm trying to keep my mind active here," mark says in a tone that makes it sound like you should've known his intentions, "and if you're at least talking to me, then i'll be more inclined work."

you tilt your head gently, squinting playfully at the tall wolverines forward. "are you saying my voice is more boring than you doing your work?"

he gives you an annoyed look, mirroring your tilted head. "just...tell me your favourite colour. and don't say orange - I hate orange."

"what's wrong with orange?" you frown, "orange is the colour that beat communicates fun - It expresses frivolity and playfulness, connecting people back to inner child."

"of course you'd know that." mark says in disbelief after taking a momentary pause at analyze what you just spewed at him.

you choose to answer his initial question, not bothering at attempting to explain your knowledge on a colour - he probably wouldn't understand anyways. "my favourite colour is pink," you answer, back to working away on your laptop, keyboard clicking rhythmically as you talk.

"pink huh," mark hums with interest, "and what's the weird reason for that?" you can feel his eyes on you, boring into your face as you type. knowing that has you feeling slightly nervous, wondering how hard he is analyzing your expressions or features.

"it's just pretty." you say gently, a blush adorning your cheeks. you hear mark stifle a gentle laugh, and you look back across the table at him. he's not looking at you, but rather writing in his notebook, eyes darting between his writing and the reading.

you clear your throat quietly, getting back to your own work. "what's your favourite colour?"

mark eyes you gently once more. you aren't looking at him, so you can't see the way his lips tug up in a smile or the way he's focused on your side profile. "yellow." he answers after a beat. "it's the colour of most of my favourite things."

you hum, "like what?"

"the sun, my jersey, pineapples....baby ducks," you giggle softly at his last remark. finally, you look away from your screen, seeing that mark is already got his eyes on you. he continues softly, "the list goes on really." he is smiling at the sound of your gentle laughter, your eyes squinting naturally without your glasses - ones that mark has only seen you in a handful of times and he thinks you must forget them often.

he shakes his head slightly, eyes finding the clock on his phone. the time has him clearing his throat and he pushes his notebook towards you across the table. "i've got my points here, if you want to check them over before I go."

you blink hard, "right, yeah." you take the outstretched green notebook from him, making quick work of the little blurbs he took note of. "this is good, now you just have to compile it into a summary - in proper format obviously."

"obviously," mark teases. "i'll do it later, kay?" he begins to pack up his things, which only consisted of his notebook, a pen and his closed laptop. "i've gotta get in my suit and head to the rink."

"okay, just..don't forget. and please, send me the final product before turning it in."

mark is practically already out the door. "will do!" he says over his shoulder, shutting the glass enter ace of the study room and jogging away.

you sigh gently, packing away your own things.

11:37 p.m.

mark

just mailed you the summary. should be in your inbox

y/n

yeah, i'll go over it quick

y/n

how was your game?

mark

ehhh, it wasn't great. we lost

y/n

damn. does that happen a lot?

mark

not always

mark

have you never watched one of our games?

y/n

no. i've never watched hockey period

mark

WHAT

mark

i'm sick to my stomach hearing that

y/n

dramatic

mark

you're coming to watch a game

y/n

no i'm not

mark

you are. you'll like it

y/n

how do you know what i'll like ?

mark

i'm smarter than you think y/n

mark

you'll be at a wolverine game soon. promise you that

y/n

whatever helps you sleep.

y/n

sent you back an edited copy with a few tweak suggestions. after that you're good to send it in

mark

yes ma'am

tutoring lesson 7

"new plan," you say, slightly breathless from the jog over to the library. you drop your bag on the dark oak table, the sound thumping in the quiet room.

mark looks up from his phone surprised - your sudden appearance catching him off guard. he raises a brow in question, urging you to continue.

you nod, "you said keeping your brain active is good for you and helps you stay focused, yeah?" he nods for an answers, and you smile before continuing. "right okay, so instead of talking - which can be distracting, I thought -" pausing, you tug on the zipper of your bag, digging through your belongings until you locate your airpods. you pull them out, displaying them like a trophy - mark bites back a teasing smile at your theatrics.

"we can listen to music." you ta da.

his brows pull towards the bridge of his nose, a frown overtaking his face as he thinks about your suggestion. "how is listening to my music going to keep me focused? - I get way too pumped up listening to my playlists."

"your palylists," you state, sliding into the empty spot beside mark. he watches you curiously, eyes following your every move as you start to connect your earbuds to your phone. "that's why we will listen to my music. listening to music you don't care about helps you stay focused on your work because you're not actually dissecting the song."

"and what if we listen to the same kind of music?" mark says lightly, taking the airpod from your outstretched fingers, nestling it in his ear.

slowly, you eye him - looking him over from his head to toes. "we won't." you put your own airpod in, leaving the ear closest to mark free in case he had any questions.

a few tutoring sessions before this one, you gave mark the detailed outline of what you'd be helping him with. you provided him with the names of all the textbooks and materials he'd need, as well as a detailed list of all test and due dates.

you had told him that you wouldn't spoon feed him anything, and that if he wanted to get his grades up, he had to try his best. you were there for clarification on anything he deemed difficult, and for when he is struggling and to edit his notes: the way you believed tutoring should be.

seeing as mark clearly had his notes out before you arrived (late) to the library, you pulled out your own notebook, along with your textbooks, preparing for your hour long session.

"you can change the song whenever," you tell mark quietly, setting your iphone between the two of you face up on the table.

"sounds good." he nods once, fingers toying his his pencil in a way that has you feeling a little bit fuzzy.

you clear your throat, looking away as the soft melodies of gracie abrams filter through your ears. flipping open your psychology textbook, you decide you'll start to get a head start on your next assignment- not knowing when you'll have any other time to do it. between your part time job at staples, tutoring mark and your other classes: your schedule was pretty full - you didn't want to fall behind.

you just begin to read into the second paragraph of the text blurb, your highlighter moving slowly along your page - the song abruptly changes. the music pauses in your ear for only a moment and you look over to see mark as he skips the song.

he catches your stare, giving your a quick nonchalant shrug. "sorry," he mutters, going back to his notes as a new song starts to play through the mini speaker tucked in your ear.

you sigh calmly, focusing back on your textbook.

watermelon sugar doesn't even reach the chorus - harry styles' voice is cut short as the the song stops once more. you bite your tongue, choosing to ignore mark as he skips another song. but then he does it again as a lana del rey song starts to play and you grunt annoyed - turning to face mark as he skips through your phones music library completely unaware of his own annoyance levels.

"what the hell," you question firmly.

mark pulls a face, unbothered by your clear distaste, "I'm not into these songs." he says nonchalantly, skipping over shawn mendes.

you scoff, "yeah that's the whole point. just-" you push his hands away from your phone quickly, stopping him from skipping any more songs. "let the music play," you tell mark gently - reminding yourself of a mother telling her toddler to behave.

he grunts like you're the one being annoying and that sort of makes you want to punch him in the gut. obviously you don't, and you choose to ignore mark and get back to your assignment.

a good 20 minutes pass without the song switching unnaturally, and anytime you take a curious peek towards mark out of the corner of your eye, you can see that he looks focused on his work. you gloat to yourself, happy with the success of your music studying idea.

mark only nudges you to ask for clarification twice, which is another small victory. since your professor appointed you to be marks tutor, you and mark have met up a handful of times for lessons. it seemed like he still likes to tease you just like he always has and that can make teaching him and spending time with him very challenging- but you've gotten used to his antics now (for the most part).

mark has gotten better with understanding the readings you've been giving him over the past few weeks of tutoring as well. not only that, but his essays have needed less editing.

your professor is very happy with the success, and is very adamant to keep working with mark until he reaches a B average. he's brought his average up to a C rather than a D+ so it was very much a work in progress still but he was getting there.

your thoughts are halted when the music pauses once again - an abrupt change to silence from the soft melodies of the music. irritated, you turn to give mark an earful for stopping the song once more, but you pause.

mark looks a bit starstuck - giving you a perplexed look with his brows raised in questions. his plump lips are agape as his eyes dart between you and your phone.

"hold on..what did taylor just say?" he questions curiously, still looking very much shocked.

"mark, you're not supposed to be listening to the music." you tell him tiredly, exhaling deeply as you look over at him.

he gives you another look of perplexity, "how am I supposed to ignore lyrics like that? run that part back."

"no," you laugh once, pushing away his hand once he tries to reach out to rewind the song, "we are not dissecting taylor swift lyrics." you tell him.

"but i'm bored," mark all but whines, head falling as he rocks back in the wooden library chair. just when you go to scold him for his dangerous seating position, mark continues, "and im done all my work that you planned for today! so tell me what the hell dear john is about."

you give him one more look of unsureness, knawing on your lips as you glance briefly at your work and textbooks infront of you. one more look at marks soft features has you breaking, your shoulders deflating as you exhale a deep long breath. "fine," you say highly, "but buckle up - because it gets crazy."

1:54 a.m.

mark

I can't stop thinking about john mayor

mark

like what an asshole

y/n

it's almost 2 in the morning

mark

I didn't know taylor swift went off like that in her songs. are there more like that?

y/n

yes

mark

you gotta send me them because i'm getting into this

mark

wait, why are you awake?

y/n

why are you awake

mark

I asked you first

y/n

can't sleep yet

mark

why?

y/n

are you always so nosy ?

mark

always.

y/n

i've got a english lit test tomorrow and im still studying for it. idk if im prepared or if I will pass

mark

you're kidding right ? you're like the the smartest person I know. you'll ace it

y/n

maybe

mark

you will

mark

I think you should take a break and make me a taylor swift playlist

y/n

you're so bossy

mark

you love it

mark

don't stress about your test seriously. you do the best when you believe in yourself

mark

and if there's a 10th seat available in the 5th row...they better watch out

y/n

who are you and what have you done with mark estapa ?

mark

ha ha

mark

send me the playlist as an apology for that comment

tutoring lesson 11

you knaw on your lip, feeling the skin you've shredded between your teeth. your eyes dance over the white paper, marked with red pen once more, skimming the notes and numbers.

you release your lip, a small sigh coming out of your mouth. "it's okay."

mark groans at the sight of your face, very much indicating that it was indeed not okay. "I flunked it." he says disappointed, eyes drooping with what is no doubt exhaustion.

you knew that last night mark had a game, only after he had asked you to come watch what he claims is the 'best sport to watch live' - to which you declined...again. that combined with his busy schedule left him little to no time for the extra studying you suggested he should do before the test. clearly- that didn't happen.

"you didn't flunk," you remind mark again, placing his test down on the white table top in your booked study room, the shiny red C on the top right corner staring back at you. "it's a C. your grade won't change."

"but it won't get better," mark sighs, running his hands through his hair. "I studied as much as I could, I swear." he looks at you wide eyed and panicked, and you feel a pang of guilt all the way down to your toes.

"I know you did," you reassure him, "but sometimes in order to retain the information better, you need to switch up your study methods. for the next test we will change it up, and we can study extra. don't stress."

he sighs sadly, dropping his head backwards so his view is of the crisp white ceiling of the secluded room. "fuck, I don't want to fuck up and not be able to play." he admits with defeat, blinking heavily.

"we aren't going to get to that point, not when you got me - the smartest person you know - tutoring you, right?" gently, you nudge your elbow into his side, teasing him.

mark looks back at you, smirking softly at your attempt to get him out of his momentary slump. "right."

"okay, so let's just forget about this test for now, we can go over it another time." you push the paper away and off to the side of the table, hiding it from his line of vision.

mark watches you with a fond expression, that same smirk on his lips you've grown to learn is almost always present in your presence.

"today we will go over this new material first, sound good?" looking over, you find mark already looking at you - your eyes meeting softly.

ever so slightly, you feel your face fall - inhaling sharply at the fond expression on marks face. he is closer than you expected, and you don't think you've ever been this close to mark. at this proximity, you notice how prominent the freckles on the bridge of his nose are and how rich his eyes are.

"sounds good." mark says gently. you snap out of your head, and you clear your throat, turning your attention back to your textbook and the lesson plan that you had pulled up on a word doc on your laptop.

throughout the rest of your lesson with mark, you'd often find yourself admiring his face, weather it was his side profile or full frontal. you'd watch the way mark's tongue would dart out when he was writing and the way he'd roll his eyes anytime he had to read something boring.

you notice how his nose is perfectly shaped for his face, and how his stubble is starting to grow in, giving his usual baby face a more rugged appearance. you take notice of how often he runs his hand through his hair, and how when he was trying to understand something, he'd knaw on the skin around his thumb.

you also see how he was solely focused on spending this time working on the new material. mark never sighed with impatience, and he never once picked up his cell phone for a distraction- even when it was buzzing crazy on top of the table. 

the only time he stopped working was to annoy you - of course.

8:21 p.m.

....incoming facetime from mark

....missed facetime from mark

8:22 p.m.

mark

sorry didn't mean to call you

y/n

that's okay

mark

fuck. yeah I did

mark

I wanna talk to you

y/n

are you okay? what's up?

mark

nothing bad. i'm just bored

y/n

what do you want me to do about that ??

mark

entertain me obviously

y/n

oh my apologies your highness

mark

apology accepted

mark

what's your favourite movie ?

y/n

why..?

mark

don't be weird and just answer the question

y/n

okay fine

y/n

confessions of a shopaholic. what's yours?

mark

fast & the furious

mark

only the first one though

y/n

are the others ones bad?

mark

not the best

mark

wait...have you never seen fast & the furious ?

y/n

no

mark

omg. you have to ! like no i'm actually making you

y/n

okay then i'm making you watch confessions of a shopaholic 😗

mark

i've already seen it babe

y/n

did you just call me babe ? 🫣

mark

oh yeah i did. you love it ?

y/n

omg no stop 😭😭

mark

in fact it's going to be your new name in my phone ! bc you love it so much

y/n

you're annoying

"what's so funny over there?" your roommate sabrina questions - her voice full of amusement and curiosity. she pulls one of her earbuds out, eyeing you from her spot on the small love seat.

you look up at the sound her voice rather quickly, adjusting your position on your chair to seem natural. "nothing really." you're not sure why it feels like you've been caught doing something you shouldn't - but you can't help but feel guilty. you laugh once, running a hand through your loose hair. "nothing worth repeating."

sabrina quirks an eyebrow at your odd actions, and she eyes you over suspiciously. it doesn't take long for her brain to come to a conclusion- you can practically see a light bulb flick on above her head of blonde hair. her eyes widen and she springs up from her lounged position, her other earbud falling into her lap. "are you talking to a guy?" she squeals.

you scoff roughly and definitely too loud, giving your friend a perplexed look. "what? no."

"you so are." sabrina says giddily, covering her cheeks with palms. "only guys can get you smiling like that. spill - who is he?" she leans further forward on the couch, closer to you and your spot on the adjacent chair.

"sabrina," you sigh gently, a small laugh nonchalant following, "it's nothing like that...it's just mark - he's just annoying me like usual."

she hums once, leaning back into an upright position, "right. how is that going by the way?"

you feel your stomach swoop and your cheeks threaten to burn red. "how is what going?" you question nervously, toying with the string of your pyjama pants.

"the tutoring....obviously." she chimes, something between an amused smile and a confused one settled on her round face.

obviously she means the tutoring, you think. there is no other relation between yourself and mark estapa that warrants any type of questioning. but then why do you feel the way you're feeling - your brain questions you.

"fine," you answer quickly, dismissing the annoying turmoil in your own head.

if sabrina thinks your acting weird she doesn't say anything, only watching you as you tug on your string and answer her question. you continue, cheeks flushed at her curious stare, "we are really making progress."

she hums, "this is still the same mark estapa that was fighting you for a seat in class - right?"

you purse your lips, "mhmm."

her lips tug up in a way that's unfamiliar to you, but she looks happy so you don't question her "well, i'm glad there's no more hostility then."

you pause, tilting your head as you think. "not as much." you correct her.

sabrina just shrugs, tucking one of her earphones back in. "who knows," she chimes, giving you one last look, "maybe the two of you will become friends after all this." she doesn't give you a chance to respond, putting her second airpod in and continuing her netflix show.

you exhale, head falling back against the chair with exhaustion. "maybe," you whisper to yourself.

your phone buzzes against your thigh, and you pick it up, your text thread with mark still up on your screen.

mark

i've changed it! too late

mark

okay now you have to ask me a question. that's how this works

mark

oh so you're ignoring me

mark

ur gunna make me cry

you smile and begin to type a response.

—

mark had always loved street parties. the atmosphere of everybody gathered outside gave him a sense of belonging and comfortability - the fresh air combined with unlimited space to move around and mingle always trumped a cramped house party.

often, mark as well as the wolverines roster found themselves mingling with their friends and classmates at any and every street party they managed to catch wind of. after all, with their busy schedules, it was sometimes the only time they got to mingle with one another.

tonight was no exception. mark was nursing his second beer of the night, the condensation dripping down his hand and off his wrist anytime he brought the neck up to his lips for a gulp. beside him, ethan laughs loudly at something luca points out, and mark finds himself joining in - even through he's not sure what's so funny.

suddenly, luca turns his attention towards mark, a mischievous glint in his big eyes. "I think papa estapa should find dylan and get us some more drinks."

"what? why me?" mark groans unimpressed.

"because," ethan sing songs, crushing his empty can and tossing it into the trash bin that, conveniently, was near the trio. "I got them last time."

"right, okay." mark sighs, eyes already squinted as he searches the mass of bodies gathered in the street, trying to find their social butterfly best friend, dylan duke.

"you'll find him," luca says, "hard to miss dylan with that embarrassing cooler backpack."

ethan and luca laugh loudly once again, and mark even chuckles along at the thought of dylan's prized bag he wore at every party. it was a sunshine orange coloured cooler, with frayed straps and liquid stains all over - because yes he refused to wash it in case it would 'take away its magic' - whatever that meant.

the thought of dylan's weird superstition has mark thinking of you as he walks through the sea of people. he thinks about just 48 hours ago during a tutoring session - mark remembers how your hair had been slicked back into a braid, and how shiny and soft it looked as you moved around. although, he thinks he prefers your hair down because he likes the way you hide behind it like a curtain when you're writing - or the way you constantly fiddle with the ends.

mark has been suprised with how well you have managed to take to him - especially with his constant pestering and the way he knows he pushes your buttons. he was also suprised with how smart you truly are - but then again what else did he expect with all your random facts and weird superstitions.

mark takes a moment to glance behind himself to make sure dylan hasn't slipped passed him unknowingly, but as he does so, mark bumps into something - or someone rather.

immediately, he turns and finds you.

he blinks once hard, making sure his mind wasn't playing tricks on him. when mark realizes you were in fact standing there, his lips tug up, peering down at you with suprise. "oh shit it's you."

you giggle lightly, head tilted so you could look at him. "it's me." you say highly, swaying in your stance.

your blinks are a little lagged and your flushed under the street lamps - that combined with the scent of fruity tequila on your breath has mark squinting suspiciously, "are you drunk?" he questions.

you scoff and look like your going to deny his accusation, but you stop yourself - pursing your lips and slowly nodding. "I may be a little tipsy."

mark smirks slowly, eyeing you teasingly, "a little?"

you nod confidently, bringing your arms behind your back so you are holding onto your own wrists. the new position has you loosing your balance and you stumble forward, barley catching yourself before falling into marks chest.

mark looks like he's holding back a laugh at your tumble and immediately you eye him irritated. "don't start." you huff, standing back to your full height.

"I didn't think this would be your sort of thing," mark admits, stepping closer to your smaller frame so he doesn't have to yell over the sound of people laughing and music blaring - allowing you to hear him more clearly over the noise. "thought you'd maybe be home - studying or something scholarly." he teases.

"i'm not into it," you admit with a slur, "i'm actually heading home. my roommate - sabrina, she said if I didn't come out with her tonight she'd put nair in my shampoo." you thumb behind your shoulder, even though sabrina wasn't there.

"brutal," mark hisses, "so where is sabrina?"

you shrug gently, looking around quickly to see if you could spot her. "don't know. she wants to stay."

he quirks a brow at you, "so you're going alone?"

you nod.

"no, i'll walk you." mark says adamantly, already patting his pockets to make sure he has everything before leaving, "you're drunk and i'm not in good conscious letting you go alone - i'm a gentleman." he still manages to teases you even when he's telling you what to do.

"i'm tipsy, not drunk. remember?" you say matter of factly, crossing your arms over your chest and turning your nose up.

"right. my apologies," mark teases you again, pulling out his phone, shooting a quick text to ethan that he'd not only be leaving the party but he didn't find dylan and couldn't yet their drinks - fend for yourselves boys.

"alright," mark hums, slipping his phone back into his jean pocket. "let's go your majesty." he holds his arm out for you to take, the gesture over exaggerated and embarrassing.

you roll your eyes, dropping your arms so you're able to grip the crook of his elbow - regardless of his teasing. after all, you were very much drunk and were happy for the stability on the walk back.

when mark finally gets you both towards the direction of the student dorms and away from the bustling crowd is when he next speaks - his hoarse but still sweet voice pulling you from your own thoughts. "I think you'd like fine bald."

you slow in your steps, looking at him inquisitively. "what?"

"you know," mark shrugs, pulling you further along the sidewalk with a gentle tug from his elbow, "in case your roommate would've actually put nair in your shampoo."

it takes your intoxicated brain a moment to register his words but once you come to, your laughing loudly, right into marks strong shoulder -  your weight pushing onto mark as you lean into him.

"liar." you accuse him once your laughter subsides.

"never," mark says back. you don't say anything back, too busy trying to walk straight beside him. after a few moments, he continues, "so," mark smirks teasingly, nudging his elbow into you - the action momentarily squeezing your arms. "what's your favourite thing about me?" he questions.

you gasp with despair, your free hand coming up towards your exposed neck - clutching your imaginary pearls as you look up at the tall boy. "you're taking advantage of my drunkness," you slur accusingly, "people can't lie when they're drunk."

"thought you were just tipsy." he chimes, brow quirked at you knowingly.

"boooooo," you give him a thumbs down as you voice your opinion, which makes mark laugh, his bicep bumping into your shoulder at the movement.

you sigh loudly, deep in thought as you and mark continue further down the sidewalk, the sight of your building coming into view. "my favourite thing about you," you start soon after, "is that you're very determined, especially in your school work. it's a good quality to have."

even with your slurred speech and wobbly walk, mark can tell you're being genuine - your intoxicated state a clear indicator that you've lost any chance you had at a filter.

mark has never thought himself to be determined academically. on the ice - sure, but not with school - especially not when he was failing. clearly, you see something in him he doesn't see himself. that has him wanting to work even harder to not only improve for himself - but for you.

instead of just thanking you for the compliment, he chooses to faux frown, knowing teasing you when you're this drunk was an opportunity he wasn't going to pass up. " it's not that i'm devilishly handsome?"

mark expects you to roll your eyes like always - or even sigh all high and mighty how you tend to do when he gets on your nerves but you want to pretend your unaffected. but instead, you smile all dopey up at him, and the words that come out of your mouth are definitely ones sober you would never say. "well that definitely doesn't hurt."

"you're such a flirt tonight, y/n/n," you don't bat an eye at mark's new nickname for you, shrugging lightly at his remark. mark continues, a sarcastic sneer on his face "makes me a little sick to be honest."

"hey!" you screech, pulling away from the warmth of his muscular body, your hand unwrapping from where it was still resting in the crook of his elbow "i'll never do it again, wouldn't want little marky to feel sick from a compliment from y/n y/l/n!"

he laughs loudly at your teasing outburst and he reaches out towards your stumbling body, grabbing onto your arm and slowly pulling you back into him. "you know i'm kidding y/n."

you look up at him softly, feeling the way his breath fans across your hairline as he stands above you.

mark continues quietly, "if i'm being really honest, I want you to compliment me all the time."

you clear your throat once, breaking your eye contact. nonchalantly, your shrug. "we will see about that - depends how well behaved you are." you tease him, the two of you nearing the entrance of your building. at the end of your sentence, you burp just a little, a soft but slurred apology spewing from your lips immediately as you giggle at yourself.

it's a harsh reminder for mark that you are in fact hammered, and that you would probably have little to no recollection of the conversation in the morning.

you start walking up the three steps to your front door but pause at the first one, glancing back over at mark. "why did you take my seat from me?" you hum in question, swaying as you spin around to fully face him again," that second day of classes, why don't you just sit in the back like the first day?"

mark hisses through his teeth gently, eyeing your blissful flushed face. that day many weeks ago flashes through marks head as you stare at him - awaiting for an answer. even though mark knows you won't remember what he says anyways, he doesn't tell you why. "ask me that when you're sober." he says.

you make a fart noise with you tongue at his response, giving him another thumbs down - clearly unimpressed with his answer.

mark reaches towards you and flips your hand right way up so that it's turned into a thumbs up. you slap his hand away.

the sight of his smile and the sound of his laughter has your belly feeling funny - similar to the swoop on a drop of a rollarcoaster. you turn away from him, key in hand as you take the final two steps up.

you plunge the key into the door lock, jiggling it around until the door unlatches itself for you.

"need help upstairs?" mark asks from behind you.

you glance over your shoulder at him once again, passing the threshold of the doorway. "thought you were a gentleman, marky." you tease him knowingly, eyebrows raised in his direction.

mark tongues his cheek at your remark, nodding once at you. "goodnight y/n." he chimes.

"night night." you sing song, shutting the door gently.

tutoring lesson 18

mark jostles on his bed, sighing loudly as he shifts around. the movement has the pen gripped between your thumb and forefinger slipping -  accidentally drawing a long harsh line down your homework.

slightly aggravated, you take a deep calming breath, moving around the line and continuing your work silently - cross legged on top of mark's bedspread.

after your last study session, mark complained about constantly working in the dusty library or a hospital white study room and told you he needed a change of scenery - told you his brain was going to explode if not, which made you roll your eyes at his over exaggeration.

although, you had to agree with him that the repetitive scenery was becoming tiring, and a change of location would be nice and would help benefit mark's learning.

so ahead of your current tutoring/study session, mark had texted you asking to meet at his place - he sent his address and stated his place was empty for working.

that's how you ended up on his plaid navy bedspread a few hours past his text messages - all kinds of class work laid out in front of you and mark, both of you finishing up some assignments.

once again, mark sighs loudly, flopping around his bed like a fish to try and further get your attention - his previous exaggerated sigh not working in his favour.

you take his very obvious bait, looking over at him with a quirked brow.

mark was already watching you, waiting for you to give him the attention he was wanting. "can we take a break?" he asks in a whine, similar to a naughty kid who wants to get their way, "I might throw myself off a cliff if I have to read anymore articles." he warns, flopping around some more.

you sit up, stretching the ache in your back that formed from being hunched over your studies. you roll your eyes at his dramatics, but you don't think a break is a bad idea. your back is sore and your hand was cramping from all the writing, both are practically begging you to relax.

you break, "okay, let's take a break."

the puppy dog look mark was previously sporting in your direction turns into one of relief, that same smirk he was always wearing making its much anticipated return. "alright, let's get rid of these books, i've got something in mind." he waggles his eyebrows at you, giving you a wink.

that combined with that smirk you're growing to love of his, has some inappropriate thoughts running through your head - dirty ideas increasing as mark quickly gathered all books a loose papers to clear the bed.

thankfully mark doesn't catch your flustered expression because he is too busy placing all your stuff of the floor. "we are watching a movie." he tells you happily, sitting back up on the now clean bedspread.

clearing your mind of its contents, you crawl up towards the top of the bed, joining mark. you let yourself follow suit and lean back against the headboard, supporting your torso. "what movie?" you question curiously, eyeing mark as he clicks through streaming apps on his small tv.

finally he gets to his desired one, searching through the app's favourite list. mark smirks, glancing over at you. "fast & furious obviously."

the opening credits start to play through the bedroom, the film illuminating the dim bedroom.

you groan, looking away from mark in favour of letting you head fall back against the headboard with a thud.

"don't groan yet," mark laughs gently, his thick thigh nudging against yours. "it hasn't even started."

"thank god for that," you tease him, head lulling to the side so you are able look at mark once again. you watch as his lips tug up from your teasing, a small breathy laugh leaving him as he watches the tv.

softly, you smile as well, head turning back towards fast & the furious.

a beat passes.

"wait," mark suddenly alerts, "there's not some weird science thing about a certain side of the bed for movie watching, right?" his lips tug up towards the end of his question, an obvious indicator that he was trying to make fun of you and your weird statistics and knowledge about seats.

in all seriousness, you answer. "oh not for a bed - only the movie theatre."

"oh my god" mark deadpan, turning his attention back to the loud cars on the screen and away from you. "you're such a weirdo."

you giggle to yourself, grabbing one of marks throw blankets from the end of the bed, and pulling the fuzzy material up and over your body.

-

slowly, your eyes flutter open. the warmth of the sun on your face working as a natural alarm clock, waking you from your sleep. your surroundings are unfamiliar in such a sleepy state - noting the navy sheets and patterned bread spread.

then, you take notice of how your cheek feels hot, and how the scent right under your nose was seemingly very familiar. your eyes widen, and under your cheek, marks chest rumbles with laughter.

you were in marks room...in his bed...sleeping on his chest.

"well, hello, sleeping beauty." he says gently above your head. "was the movie really that boring you had to fall asleep on me?"

you roll off marks chest rather quickly, ending your impromptu cuddle session. it is clearly morning based on the sun streaming in his window, meaning you had accidentally slept over at mark's -  falling asleep sometime during fast & furious.

you wipe your eyes, cringing at the thought of the mascara you never had the chance to remove. you cringe harder thinking about the consequences of not washing your makeup off period. you hope sabrina isn't worried about you and you quickly shoot her a text of your location to end any sort of panic.

for the first time since opening your eyes, you finally meet mark's gaze. he's still lying down, hands behind his head as he looks at you from his spot half under the covers. the position has his biceps flexed perfectly, bulging under his tshirt - you feel yourself get warm from the sight, your body tingling pleasantly.

he quirks a brow at you questionably, still awaiting an answer to his earlier teasing.

clearing your throat, you hum. "well," you begin, your voice groggily and still thick with sleep, "wouldn't watch it again."

slowly, marks lips tug upwards into a lazy smirk. "you missed all the best parts," he tells you through his grin.

you scrunch your nose up in distaste. "I doubt that."

his mouth drops as he laughs. gently, he takes one of his pillows, using it to hit your side. before he can pull back, you grab onto the corner. mark doesn't fight you as you pull it from his grip, hitting him once in the chest with it as you laugh.

"are you guys coming to eat or what?" a voice calls from downstairs, their deep tone muffled through the bedroom door.

your brows pull together in confusion, eyeing mark.

he sits up, "ethan asked if we wanted food like 30 minutes ago, told him we'd be right down." mark whispers to you nonchalantly before shouting out a response to his roommate.

"you should've woken me," you insist, getting out of bed as mark does the same. "don't want them to think i'm rude."

mark shrugs, wordlessly tossing you a hoodie to wear. you pull it over your head immediately, the scent of mark invading your nostrils.

"couldn't wake the princess," he teases.

"shut up," you tell him.

you had only met ethan, marks roommate and teammate in passing the night prior as mark lead you upstairs for your tutoring lesson. the rest of his roommates though you had yet to meet. so breakfast (which consisted of scrambled eggs, bacon and questionably burnt toast courtesy of dylan) was spent chatting and getting to know them.

you found it rather amusing at the way all the boys kept asking you question after question - rather random ones at that. but you enjoyed it nonetheless - serving as a good distraction from the fact you woke up cuddling mark estapa because what the hell.

you shove move eggs in your mouth and ignore thinking too much about your morning surroundings, listening contently as luca fantilli asks what your favourite dinner condiment is (specifically dinner).

you don't notice all the teasing looks mark's friends were giving him when you were distracted. mark pretends he doesn't see the looks either.

the only looks he focuses on are yours - when you meet his eyes over the rim of your mug of orange juice. everytime mark has to fight off a smile.

3:28 p.m.

mark

I think my friends really liked you. definitely more than they like me

y/n

thank god :)

y/n

I was worried the whole being late for sophomore house breakfast would turn them off

mark

nah they don't give a fuck about that

mark

luca even said you were hot

y/n

really 😳

y/n

maybe you should give him my number then

mark

fuck that

mark

no way

mark

I said you're off limits

y/n

why?

y/n

are you jealous little marky?? 🥺

mark

yeah because then you'd tutor them and they'll be smarter than me

y/n

don't worry. i'll only ever tutor you 🫶🏻

mark

atta girl

tutoring lesson 21

"this isn't cute." you deadpanned, eyeing mark from across the small table.

mark smirks gently, titling his head. "no?" he asks you, brows raised curiously. you shake your head, mimicking his no, but definitively rather than questioningly.

"is it convincing, at least?" he hums, his sultry smile turning into a cheeky one - playing at his lips as he leans forward.

you squint at him.

mark sighs dramatically, leaning impossibly closer towards you across the table - so close that if you leaned forward you could kiss him. "please, y/n, you have to come to my game." he pleads.

once he sees you're not budging, mark clasp's his hands together in a loud prayer motion, "pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeee-"

quickly, you place a hand over his mouth, eyes wide. "stop whining," you interrupt his plea. "my ear drums are going to start bleeding."

underneath your palm you can feel mark snicker to himself, his eyes twinkling with nothing but mischief as he looks at you.

you blush, removing your hand from his face. you can still feel the way his stubble tickled you skin and the heat of his face on you. it has you blushing deeper, wiping away the tingles.

immediately, mark starts to ask the same question he's been asking you for months. ever since your and mark's relationship has grown from strictly academic agreement to a friendship,  he has been asking, begging and telling you that you need to come watch a hockey game.

every single time, you tell him no. the idea of men skating around and bashing into one another didn't sound that inviting. the way mark is looking at you now though, you can feel yourself wanting to break.

he continues, "how about if I get a B or higher on the midterm, you have come to one game."

"mark..." you sigh gently, eyeing him softly.

"just one." mark stresses again, "i'll even get you the ticket. I just want my friend there to watch me play - especially because she's never seen a hockey game." as he speaks, marks forearms falls flat on the table, reaching out so he can grab ahold of your wrists that were resting on top the desk - his thumbs stroking your skin soothingly.

a beat passes.

"okay," you sigh, "but only if you get a B."

mark smiles in victory, giving your wrist one gentle squeeze before releasing you. "you'll love it." he states.

you shrug nonchalantly, "you'll never know how i'll feel about it if you don't get back to studying." your eyes dart between him and his open textbook knowingly.

in all seriousness, mark nods, getting back to his notes as you both study from your early morning test for following day, the dim lights of the study room providing a calming atmosphere as you both concentrated on the task.

mark finds himself focusing on you a little while later- lost in watching you study the material. the way you twisted your hair around your finger, gently sucking on the end of your pen as you intently read the article laid in front of you.

he shuffles in his seat at the sight, clearing his throat and looking down towards his notes quickly. it isn't a moment later when marks eyes gravitate back towards you, his mouth opening slightly as he watches you pull your hair into a yellow claw clip, small wisps falling out to give you that hot librarian look that fulfilled all of marks childhood fantasies.

feeling marks stare, you look up to meet his eyes, raising your brows at his suspicious expression. the pen falls from your lips as you question him. "are you okay?"

"yeah - no," he huffs, "you sucking that pen, fuck - you're kind of turning me on." he admits shamelessly, wiggling in his seat again in a way that has you gawking wordlessly.

"what?" you think you've turned permanently beat red at his confession, eyes blown wide and brows raised towards him.

"you gotta stop before I have to leave," mark laughs gently, rubbing the back of his neck, "it's been awhile since I got laid so that's not helping."

"mark!" you screech, dropping your pen in favour of covering your ears with your palms, blocking out anymore things mark felt the need to admit. "I don't want to know that!"

your loudness has mark laughing, the sight of you getting so easily flustered is just too good. he nudges your foot with his own under the table, a subtle signal that he wasn't going to say anything else to embarrass you and that you could uncover your ears.

slowly you release the press from your palms, the humming of the air conditioning unit coming back to you.

mark doesn't move his foot away, letting it rest between your two under the table. it has you unable to focus for the rest of your booked study room time.

10:59 p.m.

mark

so do you need to borrow one of my jerseys to wear to the game ? 😉

y/n

don't get ahead of yourself cowboy. test hasn't happened and there's a week before we know the grade

mark

it'll be a B

mark

not sure if you know this but I have this really smart tutor

y/n

oh yeah ? tell me more

mark

well...

mark

she tried to seduce me today by sucking off her pen

y/n

i'm blocking you

—

it wasn't often that you'd go out the bars, but you and your two closest friends preferred it over roudy frat parties and nightclubs. after taking your first midterms of the year, you all planned on celebrating with a couple drinks at the local bar.

a place you'd been before, but for some reason the night felt....off. you told sabrina and your other mutual friend, taylor, that you'd get the next round of drinks after using the bathroom but you had an uneasy feeling as soon as you stepped up to the bar alone.

you hadn't yet got the bartenders attention, so you were just waiting off towards the end of the bar, that same weird feeling in your belly.

"hey," a voice said to your left, that unsettling feeling growing as a person joined you - there voice husky and breath too warm against your face. "pretty lame bar right?"

you turn your head to see a guy around your age - in fact, you're pretty sure you've seen him around campus. which would make sense considering the bar was only a 5 minute uber ride from student buildings.

you smile politely, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly. "eh, all bars seem to be the same anyways." you turn your attention back to the bar, trying to grab the young female bartenders attention so you could get back to your table and leave the presence of this guy. your belly swirls with discomfort once more.

the guy doesn't get the hint, and moves closer to you. "I think i've seen you around campus, it's y/n, right?"

you furrow your brows but nod anyways, "yeah, that's me."

"i'm Landon," he says. "hey, think we should get out of here? talk somewhere quiet?" you feel his hand graze your side and immediately you push away, trying to create a sense of distance between you.

"i'm okay."

"c'mon," he laughs, "it be fun." his lingering touch turns into a harsh grip on your waist, fingers squeezing your ribs through your flowy top.

your brows raise, and you try and push him off of you once more. unfortunately, it's an unsuccessful attempt and your face drops with numbness and panic starts to become unbeatable. "let go of me," you manage to hiss, elbowing his ribs as you try and get him off you.

just when you think you may have to scream out for help, somebody calls out somewhere in the bar. you briefly see a familiar tall figure with soft blonde hair, and you feel like you can breath again.

"hey!" like an angel, mark appears beside you, removing landon's hands off and putting his much larger body between you and the creep before you - making the space you were desperately needing.

mark looks angry - which you didn't think golden retriever mark was capable of. his eyes narrow towards landon, "stop touching my girl like she's a piece of meat, fucking prick."

landon laughs disgustingly as he eyes mark back - a sound that has your skin crawling. although mark has never looked very intimidating, this new found anger makes him seem anything but.

landon doesn't seem to agree as he bites back. "she can do better, bud" unfortunately, he isn't backing down from the confrontation. you become even more nervous than before, quickly searching the crowd to see if you can spot of of marks teammates for a helping hand.

"I can make you look worse," mark threatens, stepping closer. his broad chest practically pushes landon back, and he stumbles once.

landon snickers, pushing him away. you watch him eye mark once more, and then hesitate. thankfully, he finally chooses to back down, stepping away from mark. "whatever man." the creep sends you one more disgusting look as he backs away.

you feel yourself relax immediately, a breath you weren't aware you were holding finally coming out. once landon is no longer in eyesight, mark turns his body fully towards you, eyes rather frantic as he looks over you. "are you okay? he didn't hurt you or anything?"

you shake your head, running a trembling hand through your hand. "I'm okay," you take a deep breath, meeting marks concerned gaze. "I didn't know you were here."

"I'm glad I was," mark says in a tone of something similar to disbelief - disbelief of what he just has to stop assumedly. "what a fucking dick."

you look down at your shoes with embarrassment. you can't believe you were in such a terrible situation in which you felt defenceless. you were embarrassed with yourself for not fighting back stronger. "i'm sorry," you mutter gently, meeting marks eyes again.

his blue gaze is still swimming with worry combined with a million other emotions. marks brows pull together, creating a little divot above the bridge of his nose. he shakes his head slightly, hands reaching up delicately before holding your cheeks in his warm palms, cradling you in his hands. "don't apologize." he tells you gently, a thumb stroking once over your cheekbone.

you swallow thickly, nodding at him. "thank you. you didn't have to go that."

"it's least I could do after everything you've done for me." mark says sincerely and you feel like melting into a soupy puddle right at his feet. then, like he's done it before, his hands travels to the back of your head, using the leverage to pull you into his broad chest, his other hand wrapping around your shoulders.

it was...new and rather nice and you heat up in the best possible way. you let yourself relax into his body, closing your eyes and inhaling his scent as you try and calm your erratic heart rate. immediately, your earlier embarrassment and upset stomach fade away until all you can feel is marks steady heartbeat and his head on top of yours.

"you sure you're okay?" mark pulls back slightly, keeping his hands on you as he dances over your face again. it's all very endearing and overwhelming in the best way.

you nod again, face heating up under his intense gaze, "yeah but i'll probably head out now, not really up for drinks anymore."

"I was actually on my way out before I saw you," mark tells you, "was gunna go to denny's for some pancakes if you wanted to come with."

your stomach rumbles at the thought of fluffy pancakes and sweet syrup with mark. "you sure?"

"I want you to come," mark says gently. "gotta make sure you're okay and not lying to me."

"okay," you say lightly, a smile beginning to blossom at marks sweet words and evident concern for your wellbeing. it was....really nice.

hours later, after a belly full of food and a night of once shock and discomfort turning into one full of laughter with mark, his roommates, and your friends do you register what mark had said to landon.

stop touching my girl.

tutoring lesson 27

your eyes danced over you computer screen as you read over your lesson plan for mark. you were currently waiting for him in the booked study room, the glass door still open for some white noise as you waited for his arrival.

suddenly, the steady sound of students talking amongst themselves and shoes squeaking on the aluminum tiles become more chaotic - an all too familiar voice invading your ears as it splews apologies.

you look up just to see mark weaving through students, making his way quickly towards the study room, apologizing to people as he bumped into them. your brows furrow at his sense of urgency as he approaches.

"mark?" you question once he passes the threshold of the open door, "are you okay?" you quickly give him a once over, checking him for any injures or threats - he looks fine (too fine, your brain reminds you).

mark doesn't answer you question - he can't with how big the smile on his face has grown. he takes two steps towards the desk you're sitting at, giving you a victorious look before slapping a booklet down.

you look down just as mark removes his large hand from the top of the paper, and a shiny B+ grade stares back at you - as well as a ticket to the next michigan wolverines home game.

"not just a B," mark says joyfully, breaking the silence, "but a B+."

you meet his eyes once more, and you can feel your lips beginning to tug upwards. finally, all of marks hard work has payed off and this grade would bring his average up to a B - which was what he was required to have in order to stay in the athletic department at the university of michigan.

"i'm so proud of you," you say truthfully, rounding the table quickly until you are standing in front of him.

mark hugs you - his hands sliding under your open jacket to hold onto you closely. you stiffen slightly at the feeling of his warm palms against your body, but he doesn't seem to notice.

you hug him back just as tightly.

you two pull away from one another shortly after, smiles on both of your faces as you bask in the successful feeling hanging in the air.

like gravitational pull, your eyes wander back over to the test booklet and hockey ticket abandoned on the table.

you purse your lips, reaching out to pick up the thick ticket paper - toying with the edge teasingly. you look up at mark once more, and still he's eyeing you, one brow quirked as he watches you curiously.

"so," you hum, "what does one wear to a hockey game?"

—

5:11 p.m.

y/n

wait where do I park??

y/n

oh wait you're probably not on your phone right now

mark

i'm here. you're good

mark

anywhere is section A

y/n

and you said any entrance right?

mark

that's right 🙂‍↕️

y/n

i'm a little nervous. is that stupid ?

mark

no not stupid. i think you're just excited to see the real men play a real sport 💪

y/n

omg 🙄

mark

i've got you a seat with kayleigh - rut's girlfriend. you'll like her

y/n

and how would you know that ??

mark

c'mon y/n/n. you should know how well I know you by now

mark

stand at the glass for warmups. I want to see you

you do really like kayleigh - which, of course you would because as much as you hate to admit it, mark does know you by now. all the months of knowing each other plus the hours upon hours you and him had spent together - it was bound to happen.

something else you should've known was bound to happen was the feelings you've encountered spending so much time with mark. you can't ignore the way your heart rate changes when you see him, or the way you flush when he stares at you all soft. you've become infatuated with the way mark smells and how he pushes your buttons and how kind he is.

the you at the beginning of the school semester would've never expected this from mark estapa. you assumed he was stuck up, and didn't care about his academics or peers. but the real mark was determined and caring and only wanted to make your tutoring experience fun. no wonder you felt like you were falling for him.

kayleigh's small elbow nudges your side, affectively pulling you from your daydreaming.

"looks like you've got an admirer coming your way," kayleigh teases quietly beside you, her perfect sweet smile nothing but comforting.

although your brows furrow, you can't help but smile back instinctually, turning your attention back towards the ice through the glass infront of you - just in time to see mark skate over to the boards where you and kayleigh stand.

he smiles big, coming to a fast stop - ice sliding up and off his skates blades so the glass becomes snowed. mark pushes away any lingering flurries, making your view of him once again clear.

"are you having fun?" he asks you, one of his gloved hands smacking against the glass between you to keep your attention in the loud arena.

his voice muffled the the pane, but you can hear just how happy he is. you nod wordlessly, your own smile making mark's grow bigger.

"good," he says.

you finally notice mark is holding a puck in that hand he used to hit the glass only moments before. you quirk a brow at him, but marks too focused on tossing the puck on the air, signalling to you that he wanted to throw it over.

once he knows you're paying attention and aware of his intentions, mark tosses the puck over the glass, the rubber biscuit falling right into your awaiting hands.

with the most teasing enthusiasm you can manage, you hold the icy puck to your chest, fanning yourself with your other hand. "always such a gentleman."

mark smirks at your remark and then he winks at you - skating away from the glass to continue his warm ups.

you flutter all over.

-

watching the wolverines play turned out to be really enjoyable. the sport itself was better than you expected - it was fast paced and aggressive. it seemed like something was always happening, which kept you interested and focused. you were even more focused on mark though. anytime he was on the ice, you felt yourself slip into a trance. he moved so skillfully and played so aggressively and motivated. you could finally understand to the full extent of why staying on the team was so important to him.

after the game, kayleigh said her and some of the other girls would stay around and wait for the guys to come out of the locker room to greet one another after a win. you weren't going to protest, and blindly followed her through the wolverines area and down towards the players tunnels.

when mark had seen you there, he lit up - greeting you in a warm hug and keeping you in within arms length as you all chatted after their win. when mark insisted he would drive you home and bring you back the next morning for your car - well, you obviously gave in and agreed.

that's how you ended up in mark's car, enthusiastically asking him a million questions about hockey - even the questions that you think seem stupid and are positive he's answered a million times before. mark lets you though, answering you questions with just as much excitement as you have.

mark flicks his blinker on, signaling his pull off on the night lit streets. he expertly parallel parks right infront of your building, turning towards you with a smile still on his face once he turns the car off. "so safe to say you'd come again?"

you let your head fall against the headrest gently, a tired grin taking over your rosy lips. "I would."

mark mimics your position, turning his body towards you in the driver's seat. "seeeee," he drags out with a gin, "I knew you would like it. I said I was smarter than you thought."

you frown slightly, "I knew you were smart."

his smile changes, a more earnest one taking over. marks teasing eyes turn soft as he eyes you in the dark car. "really?"

you nod once, "yeah - well, expect for when you tried to beat my to my seat everyday. I didn't think that was very smart of you."

he chuckles breathily at your teasing, tucking his lip between his teeth to try and contain his grin. "maybe," his voice is quieter, almost a whisper as he leans closer towards you, resting on the middle console. like gravity, you join him, leaning in. mark continues, "I had a reason."

"oh yeah?" you inquire breathlessly, brows quirked in his direction. "and whats that?"

he shrugs and continues to whisper. "maybe I wanted to sit near this pretty girl who sat there."

the air in the car morphs into a thick syrup, turning your skin hot and sticky. your lips tug up in a small but timid smile. "just maybe?"

marks tongue darts out, wetting his bottom lip in a way that has your toes curling and stomach filling with butterflies - bashing against your insides and tickling at your desires.

"most definitely," he shrugs nonchalantly, but the smirk that follows his words are anything but. mark leans in impossibly closer before you can form any thoughts or words. "can I confess something?"

"mhm," you hum, eyes fluttering on instinct.

his voice is deeper than normal, and he sounds so sultry that you may just pass out. "I really want to kiss you right now."

"i'm okay with that," you whisper after a beat of happily thick silence.

the last thing you see is marks beautiful smirk as he reaches up and grabs ahold of your face - nudging his nose against yours once, gently, before resting it against yours. finally, after weeks of wanting him to, mark leans in, pressing his lips to yours.

mark kisses in a way we weren't expecting. his lips were soft but he was rougher in his movements - confident in the way he held you and slotted his lips with yours. you're coming to realize that everything about mark is unexpected in the best way.

by the time you've pulled away, you're both breathless. the press of mark's forehead on yours helps keep you grounded, and you laugh lightly.

"can I confess something else," he breathes, that teasing smile still staring back at you.

"if it's as good as the last thing you confessed i'm all ears." you smile, brushing the tip of your nose across his.

he laughs once as you pull back again, shaking his head slightly as he admires you. "you're still turning me on." mark grins boyishly.

you squeal with laughter, smacking his chest gently. "mark!" you drag out, "you're so gross."

"yeah." he whispers, half and agreement half a question. he leans back in, connecting your lips again. you blush, hands resting against his neck as you reciprocate the kiss.

—

all night, you couldn't stop thinking about mark. which was inevitable considering he had slept over at your place, both of crammed in your tiny twin bed -laughing and talking (and making out) until the early hours of the morning.

he drove you back to the arena the next morning and on the ride there anytime you thought of how mark's gangly feet hung off the end of your bed, you'd enter a fit of laughter - and everytime mark knew you were making fun of him, so he would tickle your side quickly to annoy you.

it was all so domestic and tooth rooting levels of sweet your stomach hurt in the best way.

mark kissed you gooodbye before he had to go home and shower before his afternoon classes, and all was good and perfect and you really like him.

then the evening came, and you hadn't heard from him since he dropped you off. you didn't think too much of it though, assuming he was probably exhausted. a hockey game as well as a shitty and short sleep was bound to have him passed out for the night.

but then the next day was also radio silent. no pointless texts or facetime calls. no memes in your direct messages or unfunny tiktok's waiting on the app.

the third day, the day of your shared morning class, you spot him. mark doesn't look sick or tired and you can see his phone in his pocket meaning he still has one and it's working - every and any excuse you've made for mark about his sudden silence is no longer plausible. he was just simply ignoring you.

you march over, grabbing his forearm before he can walk into class. he looks confused at first, but once mark sees that it's you touching him, his eyes widen ever so slightly, face pale as he takes in your angry and confused expression.

"have a second?" you ask with faux sweetness. you don't wait for a reply, gripping his arm tighter and dragging him away from the entrance of the class. you march down the hall until its quieter, releasing his arm and turning to face him once the coast seems to be clear.

you raise a brow in his direction, "you're ignoring me."

"am I?" he asks awkwardly, running a hand through his hair nonchalantly.

you roll your eyes. "don't play stupid mark - we both know you're not stupid." you grit out, arms crossing over one another as you stare him down. "I don't understand what happened. I thought we were friends? I thought..." you trail off, swallowing thickly as emotion starts to scratch away at your throat.

a beat passes.

"thought what?" marks asks you harshly. his tone of voice has you confused, and you shuffle backwards, putting some distance between you. tears start to claw at your eyes, stinging you.

he laughs slightly, "I mean, listen, thanks for tutoring me and all but we're good now. we can go back to just classmates or whatever."

"are you being for real?" you whisper. your once angry crossed arms have turned into ones of defence, wrapping around you like a soft hug.

"yeah," he clears his throat, eyeing the floor "we're done now, I don't need you hanging around anymore and telling me what to do."

he couldn't even look at you. you purse your lips, nodding in a disgusted understanding. "fine," you say, "we're done then."

you ignore the way your voice cracks, turning heel and waking away from mark. you pass right by the open door of the lecture hall, not having the emotional capacity to be in the same space as the guy who just broke your heart.

—

you spent the following day wallowing in your own tears and self pity. you can't help but think that you've read his signals incorrectly. you think mark was only being civil to make your arrangement easier. he didn't want to be friends with you or date you - maybe he just wanted to hook up with you and then dump you. that thought is the worst of them all.

when you told sabrina the short conversation you last had with him, she was of course angry because, in her words, 'who does he think he is? fucking with you like that!'

she quickly assured you that you didn't do anything wrong and if his intentions weren't to pursue anything but friendship with you - he failed miserably.

a week after your brief fight with mark outside your shared lecture hall, you sit in your sweats on the living couch. still very much grumpy and angry with the wolverines player.

you were waiting for sabrina to get back from work before turning on the previous nights episode of the bachelor - munching on oreos and scrolling your phone aimlessly when you hear a knock at the door.

without thinking much of it, you make your way over. sabrina, as much as you love her, is a very forgetful person and it was often you had to let her back into your shared place after she'd forget her set of keys.

expect it's not sabrina, and your teasing remark dies on your tongue.

"i'm sorry." mark breaths as soon as the door opens between you. "I fucked up."

your momentary shock subsides and you laugh in disbelief, "yeah. you did." you shut the door in his face, walking away. if mark couldn't even find it in himself to look you in the eye while he broke your heart and told you that you were nothing more than a tutor - why should you let him look at you now.

"please, y/n/n," he pleas through door. softly, his forehead hits the wood, a dull thud echoing through your home. "i'm here to apologize."

you wouldn't let yourself cry - you've done enough crying the past week for years and years to come. you've done plenty enough crying over some stupid hockey player.

without a response from you, mark takes a deep breath, momentarily closing his eyes as he tries to gather his scattered thoughts.

"I said stupid things to you," he starts against your closed door, "stupid things I didn't mean. you are more than just my tutor okay? I do still need you because you're important to me. I only pushed you away because - fuck - i've never felt these feelings before and you made me nervous. honestly, you still make me nervous."

mark can't find it in himself to care that your neighbours - possible classmates of his even, could be and are most likely listening in as he talks to you through the door you shut in his face.

he sighs again, silently cursing to himself.

"awhile ago...when I walked you home after we ran into one another at that street party," he pauses, wetting his lips. the action feels useless, all moisture in his mouth feels gone. "you asked me why I took your seat that second day. y/n, I took that seat only on the pure hope you'd sit in it again. when I saw you that first day of classes, I thought you were the most beautiful girl i'd ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. so the next day, I took it because I wanted any excuse to talk to you.

when you started going on about the importance of that seat that day, I knew you'd try and get it back....so I took the opportunity and tried to take it before you because I wanted you to interact with me...even just a little. and I would do it again if it meant I'd get to know you the way you've allowed me to."

mark is still alone in your buildings hallway. he listens intently against the door, but he doesn't hear any shuffling. it's silent - you're not coming back to him. his eyes close with disappointment - not with you but himself.

he pulls out his phone and opens your text thread.

your phone buzzes against the counter top and you look over quickly. the skin around your thumb is probably thanking you as you drop it from between your teeth - a nervous habit you'd always had.

you use a shoulder to wipe the tears that had leaked from your eyes, opening your phone to see a text.

a pre-made playlist from mark estapa is staring at you.

"I fucked up, i'm so so so sorry."

you sniffle quitley, scrolling through the few songs he'd curated for you.

mark speaks again, "I made you this. its okay if you don't want to talk, okay? fuck, I just needed to apologize -"

his voice becomes clear as you pull open the door that separates you from him and his apology is put to a halt. he looks shocked and nervous at the same time - the top of his cheekbones flushed and the rest of his face pale. you've never seen mark look so distraught and immediately, you know he is feeling guilty.

"you know you fucked up, right? like you're not just saying it so that ill forgive you and you can get into my pants?"

marks brows are pulled tight and he frowns roughly, "no, definitely not. I really fucked up and i'm really fucking sorry. you don't even need to forgive me but I just need you to know that I didn't mean any of that bullshit last week."

you still look hesitant, eyeing him as he stands before you. mark sighs gently, taking the smallest step towards you. "I need you, y/n. I need you like I need hockey and need the sun. you've become one of my best friends and I can't imagine not sitting beside you in class anymore. you're the reason i'm still playing hockey." he pauses. "I need you because I'm falling for you, y/n. and I can't go another day of hiding it."

"can I confess something?" you whisper waterly. you don't wait for a reply and continue, "I really like you and have for awhile now. I'm falling for you even harder - and," you take a deep breath, your body falling limp as you stare up at him. "...I really want to kiss you."

that smirk you love oh so much is back, and so is the colour in marks face. you smile with him just as he kisses you. the feeling so warm and familiar and right.

you've always loved statics and facts. one you've always found fascinating is how only 28% of college relationships end up marrying. now, logically speaking, that's isn't very high but as you stand in your doorway, mark estapa's hands in your hair and his lips on yours - you think that you may be apart of that statistic.

thank god for your seat war.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

[sisgotdemons]

Is it bad I just wanna suck Joel off with the highest chance of someone coming in on us? Just like, imagine it, ugh

Birthday Boy

Pairing || Joel Miller x Female!Reader

Summary || It's his day, of course you'd treat him well today.

Word Count || 1,227

Contents & Warnings || Fluff & Smut — NSFW, 18+ Only, Minors DNI, explicit content/language, pet names (baby, hon/honey, sweetheart, good girl), oral (male receiving), teasing, face/throat fucking, spit/saliva, cum swallowing, getting caught, established relationship, ONE spank, 2 mentions of the word Daddy (said by Joel)

Disclaimer || This is my first ever fic, I'm sorry if it's not super good. I promise whatever comes next will be better!

It was Joel's birthday and you invited Tommy over to celebrate with you and Sarah, forcing him to stay home for the day. It's not that he hated to celebrate his day, he was usually busy with work and came home late.

"How old are you again, old man" you hear from the living room, followed by a chuckle from Tommy.

"If you think 28 is old, I'm scared about what you think in 20 years, hon'," you say walking back in the living room with two bowls of popcorn, placing them on the coffee table and sitting right next to your birthday boy.

"Thank you, sweetheart," Joel says while wrapping an arm around you and placing a peck on your temple. Your relationship with Joel has been amazing for the past 2 years. When thinking back about it, you've got thank Sarah and her boldness to get her father into the dating scene. Who's daughter would slip her own dad's number to the local dinner waitress? Only in the Miller household, that's for sure.

"Movie in? What we watching again?," Tommy leans over his niece on the floor, grabbing a beer set there only a few minutes ago, Sarah replies, "Men in Black 2." as she wipes down the liquid ring caused by the beer bottle. "Learn to use a coaster next time, please"

"Ok ok, just play the damn thing. I wanna see if this is better then the original," he said before taking a swig of beer. You all sit comfortably, Tommy and Sarah huddled together on the floor and you and Joel cuddling together. You look up at him, admiring his facial features, wondering how he didn't notice his own beauty. He feels your stares and looks down at you and places his forehead against yours before placing a hand on your thigh and facing back to the screen.

There's about a quarter left of the movie now. Sarah had fallen asleep against Tommy, who's starting to feel the effects of the couple of beers. "I'm heading up, want me to take this one too?," he says looking up at the couple on the couch, "I'll tuck her in and whatever."

"Yeah that's fine Tommy, thank you," you say while smiling at the two on the floor, watching him pick up the sleeping teen, struggling for a second, then walking up the steps. Soft groans and a "Shh, it's fine, just me" can be heard faintly going up the steps.

You and Joel are left alone on the couch and the sequel playing in front of you. Placing a hand on his lap, you lean up and kiss his jaw. "Did you have a good birthday, my love?"

Joel chuckled and pulled you onto his lap, hands placed on your hips, "Of course I did, I always enjoy the quality time we spend, together as a family," he then leans forwards towards your ear whispering, "and when we're alone," followed by a playful smack on your ass.

"Uh, you nasty old man," you jokingly gasped out, lightly hitting Joel's chest. He let out a hearty laugh, both hands now on your ass, "Well this 'old man' loves you and everything you do, baby."

You place your hands on his chest, rubbing softly against the button down he wore. You sit in silence for awhile until you break it.

“Do you want me to suck your dick?”

Your words almost gave him whiplash, eyes blinking furiously as he had a confused and intriguing expression on his face.

“Right now?”

“Yeah dummy, right now.”

“Where did this come from, pretty girl?” His lips turned up in a smirk at the thought of you sucking him off right here on the couch.

“Maybe I'm just in the mood to suck your dick. So do you want me to or not?," you say smirking.

“Fuck, you know I could never resist your offer, baby.” His hand reaches up to your mouth, thumb caressing your lips, thinking about them wrapped around him, making his cock twitch. You reach down and grabbed his covered bulge and palmed him in your hand. The idea of sucking him off had his cock hardened.

“What about Sarah and Tommy, sweetheart? What if they come back down?”

“Well, you need to be my eyes and ears, old man, because I’ll be too busy with your pretty dick in my mouth.”

He groaned in anticipation when you got up and made yourself comfortable on your knees, peering up at him through your thick lashes. Quickly, you pulled his jeans and boxers down, his hard dick springing into view, making you lick your hungry lips.

His hand petting your head lovingly gave you the encouragement you needed to have at him.

You licked his tip, collecting the bead of pre-cum that was forming on it. The feeling of your tongue on him and the risk of getting caught had him groan out.

He pushed your head on his cock, becoming slightly impatient. He wanted to feel your wet and tight mouth rubbing against him. When he was in your throat, he groaned out in satisfaction, his eyes closing in bliss.

You sucked him off like your life depended on it, slurping and moaning around his cock. Your mouth and hand worked together to bring him towards the edge. You released his length for a moment with a pop and spat on him, watching your saliva trickle down his heavy cock, making you hungry for more.

"Fuck baby, you're doing so damn good. Sucking Daddy's cock so good," he says hand gripping your hair, encouraging you to take him deeper once again.

You took him all the way to the back of your throat again, making your eyes water. The light gagging made him shiver on the spot. You pushed through the slight discomfort, wanting to make him feel as good as possible.

He fucked your mouth hard, saliva dripping down your chin with each force of his hips. “So pretty and messy for me, baby.” He was in awe as he watched you take each inch of him. He was a little over average size, yet was thick enough to make your jaw hurt in the best ways.

“Ah, fuck,” he leaned his head back while shutting his eyes tight, “I'm gonna come.”

A thrust or two more, and he was shooting his hot cum down your throat, some coming out from the sides of your mouth. You continued to bob your head on him until he was done spilling every single drop.

“Show me,” he moaned, tugging you off of his softening dick. You showed him your empty mouth, tongue stuck out with no trace left of him in your mouth.

"Such a good girl for me. Knows exactly how to treat her Daddy," he groans while taking his free hand and rubbing your cheek, causing you to lean into his touch.

"Open that pretty mouth again for me, my love." You follow his orders opening your mouth allowing him to spit in your empty cavity and without being told to, you swallow happily.

"Hey lovebirds, next time ya'll are havin' fun, invite me yeah?" You look up in the direction of the stairs, hearing the other male voice in the house chuckle. "If you don't, just keep it down next time."

[gyubakeries]

❆ 𝐠𝐲𝐮𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 : 𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐬! ❆ | 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐮 - 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 <𝟑

❆ 𝑑𝑎𝑦 6: christmas games | j.ww

a/n: hi! welcome to day 6!! hope you're liking all the fics so far 💗 this was inspired by the ideas of sousy and kyii from mansae network! i owe them a lot in terms of inspo 🤭

word count: 925 contents: wonwoo x gn!reader , established relationship , gamer bf!wonwoo , they play dress to impress , snowball fight , wonwoo has shitty fashion sense , christmas fun , fluff

"this is boring," you yawn, your body dramatically slumping all over the bed. "wonu, when's this getting over?"

wonwoo glances at you from the corner of his eye, his lips lifting up in a small smile when he sees you collapsed on the bed like a starfish. "just one more round, babe."

"you've been saying that for the last three rounds!" you whine. it was a cold, snowy winter day, and wonwoo was hunched in front of his gaming set-up, playing LoL instead of cuddling you.

"alright, last round, i promise," wonwoo says genuinely, and you watch as the game continues on the screen, wonwoo's fingers flying across the keyboard and deft hands moving the mouse with skill. he mutters curses under his breath some times, but you can't even understand why, because the game had always been to confusing for you to understand.

finally, the round finishes and wonwoo is quick to toss his headset off and join you on the bed, a triumphant smile gracing his lips. he pulls you into his arms, resting his chin on top of your head.

"did you win?" you ask him, noting how happy he looks, and he shakes his head. "i lost. i'm just happy i get to cuddle you now."

you laugh at how silly he is, before looking up at him again. "what kind of game even is LoL? like, what's the end result?"

"baby, i've explained it to you before," wonwoo reminds you. "i know!" you agree. "but it still doesn't make sense to me."

"what games do you play then?" he asks you, and you're struck with an idea.

"let's play dress to impress."

"dress to what?" wonwoo repeats, confused.

"just load up roblox on your computer. i'll use my phone," you instruct him, and your determined face makes him get up from bed and open roblox on his computer.

"search up dress to impress, i'm waiting for you," you instruct further, and wonwoo turns to find your phone already pulled out and the game loaded up.

is that really you? his partner who claims they don't play video games?

laughing amusedly to himself, he joins the game and quickly spots your roblox avatar.

"baby, how do i play this?" wonwoo asks. he's seeing all the other avatars running around and putting on clothes, but his own is just a blank grey mannequin with no face or hair.

"i'll guide you through this round, okay?" you say, repeating his words whenever you try to learn how to play one of his complicated video games.

you show wonwoo how to change the skin color, hairstyle, facial features, how to get clothes and accessories and edit them in different colors, and even how to get a manicure done.

wonwoo is thoroughly confused.

but his gamer pride won't let him admit that he's understood nothing of this game, so when the current round ends, he doesn't back down when you challenge him.

"okay, next round, whoever gets a higher ranking gets to hit the loser with snowballs for ten minutes," you smirk at him, noticing his 'confused cat' expression.

"alright, get ready to lose," wonwoo retorts, although his hesitant posture contradicts his words.

the next round starts, and the theme is coincidentally 'christmas dinner.'

wonwoo sees your avatar running around, dressing up according to the theme, but he himself is slow to move, still a little unsure with the controls of the game.

and unsurprisingly enough, wonwoo loses the round.

"ha! see? there is a game i'm better at than you are," you tease him, jumping around in victory. wonwoo can only sigh in defeat, dreading the consequences of his loss.

"let's go jeon wonwoo, i promised to beat you up with snowballs."

—

"not the face!" wonwoo all but shrieks when a giant snowball hits him in the face. he wipes the snow away from his glasses and rubs his gloved hands over his face vigorously to keep it from freezing.

the two of you are in your backyard, bundled up in thick jackets, scarves, caps, and gloves, and you've just started your snowball attack on wonwoo.

"sorry," you wince, going over to him and making sure he isn't hurt. "you know my aim is terrible."

"yeah, you can't hit the target even if it's two feet away from you," wonwoo grumbles, his red nose and ears making it hard for him to look serious.

"hey! i may not be good at LoL, but i'm good at other games!" you defend yourself. "that's why we're out here, remember?"

"well, maybe i should give you a lesson on aiming before you give me my punishment, hm?" an evil smirk crosses wonwoo's features, and before you can even process it, wonwoo is bending down to gather some snow in his hands.

"wonwoo, baby, darling, we don't have to do this," you stretch your arms out in front of you, slowly backing away.

"maybe we do," he shrugs, cupping the snow to make it ball-shaped.

"but you love me," you pout, pulling your best puppy eyes. "you wouldn't attack me, right?"

wrong.

the snowball hits you in the chest, and you gasp dramatically.

"oh, so you want to fight now?" you raise an eyebrow at him, taking a defensive stance. "you're on."

(wonwoo doesn't know why he spends so much time on that gaming set-up, playing video games, when he has the most fun whenever you're around.

even a hundred snowballs in his face wouldn't get him mad at you; he'll just throw a hundred back at you.)

-fin.

divider made by @bernardsbendystraws !

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@unlikelysublimekryptonite @theidontknowmehn @baseball-dokyeom @wonuwrites @aaa-sia

@hearts4hee @t-102 @grapejuicelh @cixrosie

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[yoichi-supremacy]

about the shigaraki brothers childhood development...

It still baffles me to this day how the two brothers managed to integrate themselves into society, or more like a broken yet currently being rebuilt one. Obviously we don't have enough information to make sense of how they did a few things on their own, like feed themselves right after their mother's corpse was flushed away by the rapid rivers, find an area warm enough for them, food for nourishment, moving around just days after they were born. So many questions unanswered and wacky theories.

They're feral children in a ruined concrete jungle filled with people like them yet not. Maybe that's what made it easy for them to slide right on in as adults as if they weren't incoherent beings eating trash all day😭the adults were too busy running, stealing, arguing and fighting for their lives to pay attention to two strange and contaminated kids. AFO and Yoichi had nobody to teach them basic knowledge and skills for their age like the ABC's and how to write, read, and speak.

But then yoichi is shown being able to speak and understand certain actions first in regards to afo in their early days. Its Even hinted that yoichi learned to speak first in their facial expressions and certain scenes. Like when afo beat a group of thugs and yoichi crawled out of the shadows in tears, seemingly from not only pain, but empathy as he's probably thinking those men are hurting just as much as he is, and acknowledges by getting afos attention by throwing an empty can at him and telling his brother to stop and that it hurts only for afo to kick him in the face instead of replying back verbally, or when afo approached the group of men, who, when they spotted afo, debated on helping him or just leaving him there. Afo had every chance to make an attempt at speaking to them to ask for help, etc, but didn't and just killed the group right after they turned away from him. He's a non verbal child only running on instinct, actions and survival as it's all he's ever known.

Meanwhile, yoichi is forced to be cooped up somewhere where afo hid him as to not endanger himself. Yoichi is small and weak, the runt of the twins, so there's not a lot of options when it comes to him in battle. The only thing yoichi could do was listen to the beat up radio and pick up the tattered books around him. This is how yoichi was able to teach himself how to read and speak their native language. It wasn't afo who taught him to do all those things as he was out often doing God knows what and never spoke around those times. I'll add more, specifically about AFO'S quirk when I have time but I gotta go yall

[cripplecharacters]

I'm writing a character with intellectual disability and I can't find much about how the different skill areas affected will be affected based on the level of ID. He has mild ID, IQ measured to be between 60-69, but I was wondering if I made his symptoms too severe and if what he has would actually be moderate. Are these realistic for someone with mild ID, or would these indicate more severe ID?

He started copying sounds at around the same age most babies do, maybe a month or so late, but didn't really understand what they meant until he was around four, when he made the connection that certain sounds had certain meanings. He picked up language decently after that, a bit slower than most but he did eventually hit language milestones, just a few years late

He's not good at problem solving. If he's seen a similar problem get solved he can usually replicate the solution, but if he's never seen this problem or the solution to it he'll struggle to come up with a solution that works. If the solution he's seen work in the past isn't possible, that's also something that'll throw him through a loop. Like if he drops and breaks a plate and he knows the solution to this situation in the past, get his dad and then go find the broom and dustpan so his dad can clean it up, isn't possible because his dad isn't home, it'll take him a little bit before he can adapt that solution to "I need to get the broom and dustpan to clean this up." He can get there, it just takes him a minute.

He was very late to reading and basic math, picking up reading at writing at around seven, addition and subtraction a little bit after, and multiplication, division, and fractions at around ten. Once he gets it he can start growing the skill, it just took him a while to get it.

Planning ahead is also something he struggles to do well. He can come up with unrealistic plans easily, but coming up with an actual plan on how to spend a day out is hard for him and when he does have that plan, any deviance from the plan really stresses him out because now he needs a whole new plan.

He's good at abstract thinking, but there are some things he can't understand. He gets that ableism is a thing, that people see him and think less of him for being disabled (outside of the ID, he is visibly disabled,) but he can't for the life of him figure out why people are taking their observations and using them to be cruel.

His ability to learn from experience is good, it's one of the easiest ways for him to learn things and it's the way his parents taught him some things. He can also learn from the experiences of others- if his dad cuts his hand on a knife while cooking and is thus injured, he can understand from that that knives can hurt and that if they hurt his dad, they'll hurt him, so he shouldn't mess with them without being very careful.

He is also very bad at picking up on body language and facial expressions.

Because he was homeschooled (the elementary and middle school didn't have a good special education system,) a lot of this was kind of brushed off as "Oh, it's because he was homeschooled" when he did start going to school as a teenager. His teachers knew, of course, but the people he befriended didn't really notice, brushing off the things they noticed him struggling with as being products of him being homeschooled. So he's not extremely obviously intellectually disabled to the untrained eye, but teachers and people who know other people with ID can usually pick up on it.

I feel like all of this might be a bit too severe for mild ID, but I also worry that if I change it so he has moderate ID I'll be underplaying what moderate ID is. Sorry for the long ask.

Hi!

A lot of the traits remind me less of myself (mild end of mild) and more of some of my ex classmates (moderate). Some of the points are more universal (understanding of body language can be really hard or really easy depending on the cause of the ID, e.g. intellectually disabled people with autism will usually have a hard time regardless of ID level) but most to me read as "more disabled than me" so either he's on the severe end of mild, or just moderate. The only one that reads pretty strictly as mild is the last one, if someone only has ID with no comorbidity then often others can't tell for a while or brush it off as something else (I'm autistic and people sometimes guess autism, sometimes ID, sometimes things I don't have). I feel like if he experiences all the other points, other people would probably be able to notice rather quickly, if not as "obviously ID" then they would notice that he's developmentally disabled in some way (though, from interacting with moderately ID people in SPED, pretty much everyone could tell, especially abled people).

Other than his classmates not being able to tell, this sounds like a pretty good representation of someone with moderate intellectual disability. I wouldn't hang on what exact number or exact severity he was diagnosed with, just saying "intellectually disabled" is good. ID is a spectrum and it doesn't have hard edges (IQ measurement is deeply flawed), sometimes it can be hard to tell where someone exactly lies on it. There's not that much difference between me, very close to the "normal range", and someone else, very close to the "ID range". I just wouldn't say that your character has mild since it does sound like it's probably in the moderate range rather than in the mild or Ambiguous one, but focusing on the exact label isn't that important in my opinion.

If you want him to have mild ID because he has a condition that causes ID that is specifically mild and not more severe, then I think it would be easier to change the condition than the character. Many of these traits seem thought-out and impact the character a lot, so changing them could be almost like rewriting the entire character.

I hope this helps,

mod Sasza

[ch3rriiii-bunn]

Hiii! I was really hoping you could do an nsfw / fluff Kokushibo x fem! Reader and Kokushibo comes home after a long day and he was feeling like he wants to relieve stress by having sex with his wife. (aka the reader)

I really hope this made sense to you because I’m not the best with words.

Btw I really liked the Overstimulated/praise (I think is what it was) with giyuu!

After hours

Paring: Kokushibou x Fem!reader

Synopsis: taking his and your stress away

Content: Modern day au, husband Michikatsu, ceo husband, assistant wife, mention of drinking wine but no one is drunk. just a buzz, light fluff, sex on the couch, praising, spurting, light aftercare, pussy drunk Michikatsu, mating press

Word count: 2.1k

A/n: AHH THANK U!! yall have no idea how much I giggled writing that giyuu fic🤭

Working in the same company as your husband was great. You both made good money, had great positions in your field of work, and had the support of staff members in the company when you announced your engagement years ago. Although, some suspected the relationship between you two would escalate since it's common for a ceo to have a thing for his assistant

You and Michikatsu, of course, learned to keep your personal life separate from work life. However, life always has its ups and downs, and for these past couple of months, work has been piling up more than usual. Work was stressing you both out lately, especially Michikatsu. The number of projects and overtime you both had to do definitely delayed any personal time. Luckily, you finished your work early on a Friday evening, and you told Michikatsu.

He frowned. That means you were able to go home now that you've completed your work, but he was reluctant to let you go. "Can't you stay a bit longer?" Kokushibou firmly said, trying to stay professional, but he just couldn't. He wanted you to stay longer and tried to find some reason for not leaving him just yet. You raised your brow with a soft smirk on your face.

"I didn't know you've gotten so attached me to at work. We're supposed to keep this professional, Mr. Tsugikuni," you teased. Michikatsu's eyes softened at you, along with his facial expression. "You're my assistant. Yet you're also my wife. Is it so bad I'm attached to you, even during work hours, Mrs. Tsugikuni?" Michikatsu replied with his brow raised at you.

You chuckled. "It's not bad, my love. However, I do want to go home now. I love your company, but if I stay in this building any longer, I'll scream," You sarcastically say, but you needed to take this chance and go home. "You should hurry up too. We've been basically living here in this building with the amount of overtime we've been doing," you grinned and gave Michikatsu a pleading look.

Michikatsu stayed silent for a moment before letting out a sharp sigh. "Okay. I'll try and finish early. See you when I get home," Michikatsu leaned back in his chair, stretching before getting back to his room after exchanging his goodbyes with you. His eyes watched as you left, admiring you, his beautiful wife, but then his eyes watched how your hips swayed as you walked, especially in the black shirt and your black tights hugging your legs.

"Fuck... okay okay, back to work. No more distractions," Michikatsu said to himself. Hours went by, and Michikatsu was done. It was 8:30pm when he finished and then arrived at his shares home with you at 9pm. "I'm home," Michikatsu announced his arrival as he came inside the house, taking off his shoes and coat. "Hi! Come in the living room." You peek your head from around the coner and gesture for him to come towards you.

Michikatsu made his way to the living room, tired out of his mind to argue, and then, his eyes lit up a bit. He wasn't expecting a dinner since you and him ate before at the office. However, he wasn't expecting you to have this romantic setup. You had some candles lit, they smelled like vanilla, and you had two glasses of wine set on the mini table in front of the couch, next to a bottle of wine.

You smiled at Michikatsu. His lips curled into an upside, and he made his way towards you. His hands reach out to your waist and pull you close to him and give you a peck on the lips. "You know you could've taken my card to buy the wine," he reminded you, but you shook your head. "You spoil me. So let me spoil you tonight." You smiled at him. Michikatsu got a bit flustered, and you even saw how his cheeks started to turn pink. Now, having a small blush on his face.

"I should go shower-" "no~ come stay here with me. You're acting like you're all sweaty or something," you playfully sniffed Michikatsu, and he chuckled. He placed his hand on your head, petting you for a moment before sitting down on the couch. Once seated, you poured wine for you both and then handed Michikatsu his glass.

You both did a cheers and sipped on the drinks. Michikatsu wasn't one to always start a conversation. He only spoke when needed and always let you start and carry the conversations. He felt the buzz in his body from the wine, and he sure you felt it too since you seem more relaxed instead of being hyper focused like you would at work.

Michikatsu put his arm around you, listening to you speak, but his eyes just wondered your face. From your lips, cheeks, nose, and all over, he just couldn't get enough. It's like his mind was somewhere else. You continue rambling about date ideas. You suggest multiple date ideas for future days off and even suggesting kokushibo to try out new hobbies with you.

You pause midway through your sentence and raise your brow at Michikatsu. "Are you listening?" You asked, holding your half empty glass and paying more attention to his gaze upon you. He was so close, and it felt like you were about to have your first kiss all over again just from his gaze, looking like he wanted to kiss you right now.

Michikatsu nodded. "Uh huh... yeah, painting sounds nice to do on the weekend," he said as his tone got slowly. He had to think to himself while staring into your eyes. How long has it been since he was this close to you other than sleeping next to you in the bed and besides kissing you Good morning and goodnight.

Work really held him back from you, and he realized that. "Everything okay, Michi.. ooh," his name faded slowly from your lips once his hand moved its way to your tit and cupped it in his large hand gently. Michikatsu was so close to you now. His touch and this tension was enough to make it feel like the room got hotter. Michikatsu gave you tit a squeeze before letting it go and placing his hand on your back.

"You're beautiful," he said, putting his wine glass down and cupping your cheek with his other hand and having your body lean back a bit on the couch. "You picked a good night to wear these shorts. You have such pretty legs," he said seductively, pushing you down light onto the couch to be above you. "Michikatsu~" you whispered, closing your eyes as you feel his hand find its way to your inner thigh and grabbing your flesh.

"Even at work. You wear the same office uniform but to see you in your skirt and tights today? It took everything out of me to not rip them off and have my way with you on my desk," his deep voice whispered against your ear. You hold onto his shoulders, feeling your body heat up and bit your bottom lip, holding back a moan once his lips made contact with your neck.

His kisses her so soft for a few moments until he really started to get into it. His breaths become heavier, and you gasped once you felt his lips apply more pressure with each kiss kiss. "I want you, i need you," his voice rasped and restrained himself from continuing until you answered him. "Can we do it? I want to make you feel so good on my cock" Michikatsu's hands hold onto your hips as he slowly grinds himself over your clothed cunt.

"Mhm~ mm," you nod quickly, rolling your hips up to match the rhythm of his grind. "No. I need words, love. Tell me you want it~" Michikatsu said between hitched breaths as he grinded his growing election harder. "I want you. I want you, Michikatsu~" You looked at him, your eyes half yet looking at him with such need. "Good girl." Michikatsu grinned and went back to kissing your neck while having his hands go up your top.

"Careful with the biting, you'll leave marks," you warned Michikatsu with a soft whine, but he only chuckles. "Are you worried others at the office will notice them? Fine. I'll leave my marks where no one but you and I can see them." he smirked, lifing up your shirt over your tips and stopped at your collar bone. "No bra? It's like you wanted me all a long, haven't you, babe? " Michikatsu licked his lips and helped you take off your top and throwing it to the side.

Michikatsu pulled your shorts, along with your panties off, and brought his lips to your tit where. His lips captured your hard nipple in his mouth and began to swirl his tongue around it lightly before sucking on it. Your back arches from his tough, and you moaned with some grunts mixed in once his mouth sucked on random parts around your tits, biting and sucking until the spots turned a deep purple.

"Open your legs for me, sweetheart." Michikatsu pushed his hand between your opening legs, placing three fingers on your pussy and began to rub your clit in big, slow cirlces. "I've kept you pent up, haven't I? You're already this wet for me," Michikatsu hummed as he went to suck on your other nipple. "Michikatsu, Michikatsu~" you moaned his name with heavy breaths as your hips roll in circles to his touch.

"Easy baby. You'll have me soon enough. Be a good girl and cum for me frist" Michikatsu's fingers begin to move in faster cirlces and applying more pressure. "Cum for me and I'll give you this cock you've been so hungry for" Michikatsu said as his jaw clenched, feeling your wetness on his fingertips and your thobbing clit.

You've grown so sensitive from the pent-up sexual frustration that you were close already. His words alone were enough to push you over the edge. Just the thought of having your husband's cock inside you after so long drove you crazy and had you cumming in seconds. Michikatsu's fingers rubbed your clit faster until you were holding onto his muscular biceps and your mouth hung open with loud moans as you cum.

"That's it. You did so well, so proud of you. Ride it out on my fingers, baby." Michikatsu slowed down his finger motions until you calmed down from your orgasm and placed a sweet kiss on your cheek. Michikatsu quickly moved his hand away to hurry and unbuckle his belt and to free his hard cock from his pants, not being able to take his pants tightening around it anymore.

Once his cock was free, you saw it stand tall with its usual curve and looking even bigger then you last remembered. Michikatsu already had pre cum oozing from the tip and he grabbed his cock and smered his pre cum around on your pussy. He wasted no time, he watched you as he put his tip inside and then thrusting his hips forward to yours to get all of his cock balls deep inside you.

"Holy shit- fuck" Michikatsu let out a shaking, deeply moean once he was inside and gripped onto the back of your thighs tightly. He leaned forward, making his pelvis press down on yours. You cry out in the overalwhelming pleasure already, but Michikatsu kissed your lips. "Are you ok, my love?" He asked, refraining from thrusting his hips, but instead, he gives thigh thrusts, humping you softly and waiting until you're okay for him to move.

"Yeah~ keep goin'," you whined, and your head falls back onto the pillow. Your arms wrapped around Michikatsu's back and your nails digged into his dress shirt as he thrust his hips, moaning with each thrust from his big, curved cock hitting your gapot repeatedly. Michikatsu couldn't even wait to undress himself fully. He needed you now. He wanted to fuck you, he needed too.

"Come here," kokushibo muttered and leaned in for a sloppy, heated kiss. Hearing kokushibo's deep moans and his whimpers in the kiss and his tounge, French kissing with you made your pussy throb. Your pussy clenches down on his cock and Michikatsu slowed down his thrusts for a moment and pulled away from the kiss, having a thin line of Silvia connecting you two for the moment.

"I got too carried away and didn't realize how these clothes are restricting my moments," Michikatsu pulled down his pants and almost ripped off his dress shirt off his body. You admire his musclar physique and even caress your hand over his pecs. "Hold these for me, sweetheart. I'm going to fuck you harder" Michikatsu pushed your legs back and then grabbed your hands to put them on the back of your thighs.

He wanted you to hold your legs back for him and before you could fully processes anything eles, he had already put his cock back inside you and immediately, his thrusts were much faster and much more rough. You moan loudly, his skin was slapping against yours and you heard the sounds of your wet pussy every time Michikatsu's cock thrusted in and out of you.

"Oh listen to those sweet moans. Moan for me baby, scream for me. Let the neighbors here just how good I'm fucking my pretty, sexy wife. Fuucckk~ your pussy feels so good. So good~" Michikatsu's said as his moans slowly turned into whimpers from how good your pussy was making him feel. He brought a hand to your pussy and used his thumb to rub your clit while fucking you and his other hand gripping onto the couch cushion.

"Kokushibo! I'm gonna~ haa" you announced your close, you look down to see your slick coated on Michikatsu's cock and had your mouth hung open with loud moans. "Yeah? Cum. Now," he demanded, clenching his jaw and watching how your tits bounced with his powerful thrusts. "Let me feel it. Get me soaked in your cum" Michikatsu grunts, spitting out more of his dirty words at you while rubbing your clit faster and his heavy balls slapping against your hole.

He lets out a loud groan as he feels you clenched even tighter, almost not letting him go. You squirted, you whimpered, feeling your juices leak down your hole, and some even get on Michikatsu's thighs. "Yeah~ that's what I wanted." Michikatsu pushed your hands away from your thighs and held your legs back in a V shape, caging you in as he put you in a mating press position and pounds his cock inside.

"So close. Oh fuck baby, Gonna fill you up. Gonna, You. Up- fuck, fuck aaah!~" Michikatsu choked on a moan and whispered loudly as he slams into you, making his tip kiss your cervix as he releases his thick load inside you. There was a lot of his cum spilling inside. You catch your breath with Michikatsu and moaned as you feel some of his cum leak out, even with him still inside.

Michikatsu catches his breath, his musclar thighs even trembling after finally cumming and pulled out slowly. Kokushibo watched as you legs rest and he leaned down to give each of your knees a kiss. "I'll clean the mess up." He said and you both had a small laugh. Kokushibo grabbed some tissues to help clean you up down there so not so much of his cum would leak out as he picked you up and began to head upstairs.

"I could've walked up the stairs to take a bath, Michikatsu." You rest your head on his shoulder and have your arms wrapped around him. "Who said we were done?" Michikatsu asked, and you tensed up. He wasn't done? He wanted more? You looked at him for a moment and then saw him take you to the bedroom.

"I got us an off day tomorrow. So let's keep fucking until we pass out" kokushibo smirked and shut the door behind him.

[slutboybarbie]

Are you ever gonna write more about Chase Davenport? Its ok if you don't, I just love how you write for him <3

Hi sorry it took me so long !! Hopefully you like this one<3

Jealousy

Chase Davenport x Reader

18+

Warning/summary: dom chase, secret relationship, dumbification

~~~

Having Chase as your boyfriend and dom was amazing. He took care of you, made sure you were always happy, always knew what you needed, and made sure you were okay with everything the two of you did together.

His only "problem"- it wasn't even a problem, you loved it about him- is that he gets jealous. Pure, unbridled anger that arose in his chest at the sight of what he thinks is you with another.

So you, a person with a very flirty personality, plus a whole house full of sexy ass heroes? Not ideal.

For Chase at least.

He'd insisted on keeping your relationship private, not wanting to put too much pressure on the two of you. Even with your sneaking around, some of the team already knew.

Leo, Bree, and Sebastian(who'd been staying with y'all for a while now) were bionic humans and downright nosey for gods sake, not too much got by them, and Adam, poor Adam, just needs to learn how to knock before entering a room.

They'd cornered him one morning in the kitchen, commenting on the fresh hickey you'd just planted on his neck the night before.

"Oh my- Chase Davenport, is that a hickey?", Leo said, hand on his chest and imitating a voice that sounded a lot like Tasha.

Chase froze for a sec, his cheeks turning that beautiful shade of pink, before deciding to not respond, and keep on making his coffee.

"Jesus Christ, we're gonna have to start calling Y/N the human vacuum. Look at the size of that thing!", Bree had laughed out, causing the others to join in.

Chase froze for the second time that day, coffee mug still in hand and turned around to look at his friends like a deer caught in headlights, "You know?!"

They all just laughed more at his facial expression before he turned to Adam, "You. I knew you knew already. You told them?"

Adam's hands quickly came up in defense, "Don't look at me, I had no idea they knew."

Chase hated the fact that they knew because the once harmless flirting was now purposeful. You were unaware of the extra cheekiness but Chase definitely wasn't.

The way Leo would make sure to refer to you as "Doll" whenever speaking to you, causing you to giggle, the way Sebastian would sensually guide you through your training, a few more touches to the arms and hips than usual, Bree taking any chance she could to cuddle up with you in the common room, and Adam was unaware of the whole thing.

They loved seeing the interaction between the two of you as you tried to figure out what was wrong with your boyfriend, his jaw clenched and face a light red color.

Chase let it go, deciding that some flirting wasn't hurting anyone, and he knew it wasn't serious.

That didn't last long.

It happened at one of Davenport's parties. You'd only had two drinks but that's all you needed to gain some liquid courage, going out to the dance floor.

You were feeling a bit loose, dancing with your friends. When the song changed from up tempo, to something a bit more slow and sensual, so did your dancing.

You were currently in between Leo and Sebastian, neither of them touching you in respect for their friend and your boyfriend, but that was as clean as it got.

Chase watched from afar as you rolled your body in between the two men, as if you weren't taken. He knew he couldn't openly say anything, in fear of someone noticing.

But the more he watched, the less amount of fucks he gave. Setting his drink down from the bar, Chase rudely abandoned a one sided conversation some lady was having with him, lying to her when he said "I'll be right back."

He stormed onto the dance area, stepping in between you and his friends. Grabbing your arm he flashes Leo and Seb a fake smile, "Mind if I borrow Y/N real quick?", not even giving them a chance to respond, he drags you out of the room.

"Chase! What're you doing, I was having fun!", you stop in the middle of the hall, upset that he took you away.

The man in question allows you to stop, knowing he could just pull you along if he wanted to, but decided against it.

"I didn't know acting like a slut in public was considered 'fun' nowadays.", he says with a glare.

Fed up with his attitude, you respond, "Yeah well, things have changed. It's called the 21st century, gramps."

You're quickly pushed against the wall in the hallway, where anyone could come and see you. Chase separates your legs with his knee, placing it on your core, his hand finding it's place on your neck.

"Y'know, I was gonna wait until we got to the room to fuck some sense into you, but maybe I should just do it right here. I bet you'd like that. For everyone to be able to see how much a whore you are."

You whine at his words, trying to grind down onto his thigh.

"I fuckin' knew it.", he laughs darkly, releasing your neck and stepping away from you, causing you to stumble from the wall. "Too bad I don't like sharing."

He makes his way to the elevator, leaving you to mindlessly trail behind him like a very horny puppy.

You thought for sure he'd make a move on you in the elevator, the short amount of privacy enough time for him to have you up against a wall, wet and begging, but he did nothing.

The elevator door opened and you wordlessly followed him to his room, he allowed you to walk in first, not even attempting to swat at your ass like he usually does.

Walking into the room, you turn when you hear the door close, fearful of your boyfriends sudden quietness. "Baby-"

"Quiet.", he cuts you off.

"But-"

"Sweetheart if I have to repeat myself, the night will be much worse for you than I already have planned."

His low tone and threatening words convince you to obey him, watching as he stops at your dresser, loosening his tie.

You have no choice but to stand there as he unbuttons his shirt, slowly, practically teasing you. His toned abs peek through and you feel your mouth start to salivate at the sight. Chase looks up and a dark chuckle escapes his mouth at the look on your face.

"See something you like?"

It's a rhetorical question because he knows how much you love his body, and he knows it's killing you to not touch him right now.

He strips down to his boxers, the room completely silent except for the pounding of your heartbeat. Chase walks over to the bed, getting himself comfortable with his hands behind his head, propping him up.

"Your turn." He tells you.

You quickly began to undress, and Chase tsks, "Slower. I want a show."

Obeying him you start to go a bit slower, feeling small under his intense stare.

Once you're completely stripped, he signals for you to come to him on the bed.

~~~

"Cmon baby, don't go dumb on me just yet."

Chase's request falls on deaf ears with you too focused on your impending orgasm. You'd lost count of how many you'd given him tonight, your brain too clouded to keep count of anything at the moment.

"Ohh, you're already there hm?"

Your partner uses his big hands, cradling your neck and face to get your attention on him. His hips continue to slap into yours, jolting you with every thrust.

He has your feet by your ears, body pressed to yours so closely that it's nearly intoxicating.

"Just can't help yourself, can you?", Chase taunted. He ghosts his lips over yours, teasing you even further.

You mumble out a "please" when he does it again, and Chase gives in.

He applies more pressure to your throat when he deepens the kiss, causing you to clench around him. He moans into your mouth, a whimper-like groan escaping him.

"You're mine, y'know that?" He asks and you nod.

“Yeah? But you don’t act like it.” Chase says bitterly

He’s referring to your little dance and you can tell just how mad it made him with the way his thrusts pick up.

“I’m sorry baby, I’m sorry.” You plead with him.

“Aww now that’s sweet.” He chuckles out.

“I am!” You insure. “But, I can’t cum again. I just can’t.” You knew your safe words. If you truly wanted him to stop, he would.

“Maybe if you were good, I’d be more sympathetic but since you weren’t, I’m not stopping.”

[cain-speaks]

LMK Season 5 Animation Analysis

basically just me rambling about how i feel about the animation. i'm not going to talk about plot but i tagged spoilers just in case :3

First, to put it bluntly:

No, I do not like the look of season 5. The movement of the characters is regularly stiff and slow, the character proportions are odd, lines are oddly angled instead of smooth (like the monkey tails), you can tell they're still adjusting to how LMK does character lighting, and it's not as flashy and fun in my opinion. I think some of the sound design was a little weird this season, too (in EP3, Wukong busting a giant hole in the wall makes like no noise? Just seems weird to me). The space cracks are oddly... solid, if that makes sense? In season 4 they appeared much more delicate, while in this season they're, in a way, heavy? Also, this is certainly a personal irk, but the blended style for the tears? Not a fan. I could be misremembering, but Flying Bark made them crisp.

Having said that, it's not nearly as bad as I (and others, I imagine) thought it would have looked, judging from the trailer. Part of this is probably because they reused a lot of animation from previous seasons; which, by the way, isn't bad, it saves time and I'm sure it's a lifesaver while they're learning. It's just... obvious. Very obvious, especially because you can tell they did it more this season than Flying Bark did.

I've watched some clips from Carmen Sandiego because I think it's one of Wild Brain's most recent shows, and I think you can see the similarities. I didn't watch a lot, but it seems to me that characters are less expressive with their body language and more stagnant. They also don't seem to be super facially expressive to me, but like I said, I didn't watch a lot. Now, Carmen is a beautifully animated show! But it's different. And different's not bad, it's just... hard. Unsatisfying and disappointing, currently. Flying Bark's style, in my opinion, had the characters constantly moving. Whether it was a tail twitching, a position shift, a little expression in the background, they were moving. And they moved fluently and quickly. It really made the characters feel alive. I THINK it's also a different between puppet animation and frame-by-frame animation but don't quote me on that.

ANYWAY all of that is to say that yes, there are visible differences and they're upsetting. I hold LMK very near and dear to my heart as I'm sure many of us do, so as thrilled as I am to have season 5, it does hurt a bit.

HOWEVER.

Wild Brain isn't responsible for that. Flying Bark had a learning curve just in season 1 vs season 2. We have to give the new studio TIME to grow and adapt to the style. It's really unfortunate because now we have what feels like a very crudely animated season that I just know would have been better with the style we all know and love, but hopefully there will be more seasons, they'll get better, and we'll realize that this is just a blip in our hopefully long lives.

And to the neurodivergents: you are valid, we are valid. God knows I loathe change. I was really hoping the studio change was just a misunderstanding, but unfortunately it's not. LMK's visual aspect is important. If you decide to leave the show behind, that's okay! If you don't, welcome to the ship I'm trying to keep afloat!

Back to everybody now. Your decision is yours; don't let others make you feel bad about leaving or sticking with the show and most DEFINITELY do not lash out at the studio, because istg if the show gets cancelled from backlash I'll jump off a bridge (/dramatic).

Anyway idk if this is really an analysis. But it's something! Less than 4 days for the english dub, whoop whoop!

[lesbian-disaster-academic]

Since there's been some discussion of this on a prior post I made, let's address

Neurodivergent Skill-Regression: What is it & Why Does it Happen?

Content Warning! This post will make brief mention of various topics, including: childhood abuse (not explicit), depression, suicidal ideation, car accidents, the COVID-19 pandemic, and throwing up.

Okay, let's begin with a quick preface. I'm writing from the Global North, in a capitalist economy, and in a country founded on (ongoing!) systems of colonialism. Therefore, that's how I'll be situating this discussion (just because it's what I know best). Neurodivergence and Capitalist Exploitation Under capitalism, productivity and extraction in the name of profit become of the utmost importance. Extraction can take place in the form of extracting physical resources (think fracking on Turtle Island), extracting labour, etc. Ultimately, neurodivergence itself is not an ill-formed or "bad" mind. It is only conceptualized and coded as such because capitalism and various other interlocking systems of oppression are actively hostile to minds that, in some way, subvert capitalist and colonial ideals. (however, this is not to negate, invalidate, or trivialize the fact that adhd/asd/ocd/bpd/etc. are disabilities. by their very nature, they impede and disrupt functioning. what is considered "functional", however, is determined by this capitalist/colonialist state and the things it values. this is all simply to say that we would be able to more easily exist and thrive within a society that doesn't reward self-destruction in the name of accumulating capital for the upper class) Of course, living in a system that is not built for you is going to be exhausting—it takes a toll on you, both physically and mentally. This can be further compounded if you are marginalized in other ways; for instance, if you're a person of colour, working class, a woman, 2SLGBTQ+, an immigrant, or a combination of these.

Masking and Burnout Many neurodivergent folx are forced into positions in which they have to mask. For the sake of clarity, "masking", in this case, involves concealing one's neurodivergent traits. For me, that might look like suppressing compulsions, consciously regulating my facial expressions, working longer and harder to accomplish tasks because I can't focus, or scripting conversations before I have them. These manifestations are often invisible to outsiders, but they take a heavy toll on us, and can often result in neurodivergent burnout. This is where the skill-regression comes in. An Example... Let me give you a personal example of what neurodivergent skill-regression can look like! Prior to the pandemic, I was a highly productive person. I was designated "gifted" (whatever that means) and was top of my class in every single class. I was participating in (and running) multiple clubs, working a steady job, volunteering within the community, and learning new instruments and languages. I was a skilled pianist and painter, and also very athletic. From the outside looking in, I appeared successful: I had a massive scholarship lined up at the most prestigious university in the country. I was generally well-liked. I was creative and skilled in both the humanities and STEM (mostly humanities lol), etcetera etcetera. But I was in no way okay. I was incredibly depressed and suicidal. I had multiple undiagnosed anxiety disorders and neurodivergencies. I was experiencing relentless abuse at home. I was throwing up every few days out of pure fear and stress. I was constantly sick, crying (in secret, and then later too numb to cry), overwhelmed, exhausted, and apathetic. And yet I refused to stop pushing my body and mind to their limit because I had this ingrained belief surrounding my productivity—if I slowed down, would I be worth anything? At the time, to my mind, the answer was a staunch no (even though I didn't apply this thinking to anyone but myself lol). So I repressed everything. I pushed it all to the side and kept moving forward. To put it in perspective, I got hit by a truck at one point, but I was so scared of being late to a thing and disappointing my parents that I just apologized and kept going. This kind of behaviour went on for close to a decade. And then the pandemic hit. And I was forced to stop. I was made to (by virtue of my relative privilege) take a moment to sit down, look around, and actually feel things. And it hit me like a ton of bricks: All the weight of the anger and fear and everything that I had been repressing for the sake of survival came RUSHING in. Now? You want to know what I'm like now? I am very burnt out and incredibly unproductive. I have the attention span of a gnat. Where I used to be able push through exhaustion or else tamp it down with consistently high levels of adrenaline, I now almost ALWAYS feel tired, to the point where I have to lay down. I used to be able to toss together an essay in the span of a couple hours. And, yes, while I can still put an essay together quickly, it’s not going to necessarily be good. Likewise, where I used to be able to mask my neurodivergent traits, I'm now hyperaware of how exhausting it all is, which makes it more difficult to appear neurotypical in public.

The thing is, when you have something like adhd as well as an anxiety disorder, the anxiety can pretty effectively mask the adhd. But once I started medication and more intense therapy, I got a hold on my anxiety and alllll of my coping mechanisms fell away. I no longer had that constant, vibrating fear to force me to maintain attention, and push myself to the breaking point.

It’s like not aging for 80 years and then suddenly having decades collapse into you in the span of moments. So Where Does This Leave Us? Okay, that was a loooong tangent, sorry. Returning to the original point. As the infinitely cool and talented @revenantscholar mentioned in a previous post of mine, when you exist in an unsafe environment (or one which is generally not built with you in mind), it's difficult to hold onto the skills you once had. Your body goes into survival mode and prioritizes keeping you alive. Once you have returned to a space where you can unmask and be physically/emotionally/mentally SAFE, you have the capacity to relearn some of those skills. Not all of them, necessarily, and not all at once. But these things do return—and even if they don't (listen to me, this is important), that doesn't make you stupid/bad/worthless. You are living in a world that is not built for people like you and I, and it sucks, and it's painful and scary, and we will continue to fight for a better future. In the meantime, it's important to remember that you are worthy of care, compassion, empathy, and support regardless of what you can contribute/do. You are incredibly important and I'm so glad you're here. (Thank you for listening. I'm drawing on my human rights knowledge from my degree, and also my own personal experience. However, feel free to correct me or ask any questions you might have! I'm also happy to provide resources/citations if needed. Now go drink water and rest if you need to! Ily!)

[pinkdaisies9285]

Flyboy and the Florist-4

Bob Floyd x F!Reader

Warnings: None, Fluff

Word Count: 354

Author's Note: Yay! We finally get to know reader's callsign/nickname! This one is a little short but I'll make it up in the next part hopefully. Enjoy 💜

“So baby on board, I heard you got yourself a date soon?” Jake casually asked Bob while aiming his cue to land a ball in a pocket. Jake had been curious about the whole thing concerning the quiet WSO. He had heard the whispers from Nat and Bradley that Bob had scored himself a date with a Flora. Who was Flora? He wasn’t sure but she got Bob tied up in knots. Enough so that Bob was leaving as soon as possible at the end of each day. Always in a hurry to get to his truck before anyone else. Before anyone could ask Bob where he was going.

“I do. Why?” The question made Bob hesitant to let Jake know any more information. He wanted to try to keep his date as private as he could. He wanted it to be perfect. Or at least as perfect as it can go. 

“Just surprised that’s all Bobby boy,” Jake replied. He was still stunned that the man had scored himself a date with a woman Bradley had described as “out of Bob’s league.”

This made Bob frown. Jake’s facial expression made Bob irritated but he didn’t want to ruminate on it too long. Jake was just being Jake. “Also, where did you get the name Flora?”

“It’s what I decided to call her after seeing her among all those flowers,” Bradley piped up while coming over with more beers in his hands. “And it kinda stuck when talking about her with Nat.” 

“Oh,” Bob was confused as to why Bradley and Natasha were talking about her but he pondered the idea of the nickname of Flora. Why he didn’t think of it first he wasn’t sure. Yet, he liked it. The nickname felt like it fit her. She was always surrounded by flowers and they added to her beauty. Flowers that he bought every time he attempted to ask her out. Flowers that have had hidden meanings to them he will soon learn. Flowers that she puts so much care into. Flowers that brought him and her together. Flowers.

His flower. 

His Flora. 

“I like it.”

Tag List: @tgmavericklover @jessicab1991 @havlindzk @tgmreader @charactersimp08 @just-in-case-iloveyou @theamuz @attapullman @seresinhangmanjake @nerdgirljen @bobgasm @muddwheelz123 @3tabbiesandalab

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[reotheworld]

I loved the isagi with kaiser's sis‼️may I ask what if kaiser caught both of them getting a little too close(may you add some Ness relationship with the reader too?)

let's keep it a secret to him

❝ my heart is already with yours ❞

➜ getting caught by your older brother

➜ fem!reader

sugar level: 0% & 70% | possible continuation of this shot ; slight angst but a good ending

when kaiser was scheduled for an interview, he received a question from the host.

"if you could pick a member from your team to date your younger sister, who would it be?"

upon hearing the question, kaiser made an initial facial reaction that had not only the host but the staffs rolling in laughter at the face he made. as he puts his jokes aside, he finally opened his mouth to speak into the microphone.

"it would be ness" he replies along with a nod of his head.

"ah! germany's midfielder!" the host spoke, blinking eyes twice. "now i'm curious, why ness out of all your other team members?"

"he's a well mannered individual who always has a smiling demeanor. behind camera's, ness and y/n gets along very well. so i approve the relationship if they date." kaiser responded.

click!

isagi tosses his phone and lays down on his bed nonchalantly, emitting a sigh from his lips.

sure ness has the visuals and say the personality (in which he tried hard not to gag at this) that could make any guy or girl swoon, no doubt that bastard münchen's midfielder could make a girl like y/n kaiser swoon.

he's a professional player for one of europe's best teams, takes home how much money after a game, has hundreds and thousands of people cheering his name in a large stadium; the guy is practically swimming in fame and fortune.

but what about me? isagi thinks, closing his eyes to shut the blinding lights.

"hello? hellooooo?"

he's still making a name for himself not only in japan, but to the rest of the world as well. would someone like him make y/n turn her head to look at him? even if he isn't a professional player, doesn't take home how much money after a game and probably has people doubting his play style?

a girl like y/n would never in a million years turn her head to look at him. if all of them gathered in one field, she'd probably put her attention to notable players...let's say, like ness.

"isagi? helloooo?"

yeah. ness seems like a much better option for her. it's probably time to give up considering pursuing her. give up making kaiser listen to him and say he's the much better option for his sister.

"isagi!"

jolting his eyes wide open as someone calls out his name, isagi now finds the position he is in...weird.

"what were you thinking that you couldn't hear me?" he sees y/n pouting, straddling on top of his waist. "what were you thinking so deeply?" she asks again before the worried facial expression turns into a shocked one.

"i didn't realized you were probably trying to get some sleep!" she says, kneeling up from his waist. "oh well, good night-"

"no, stay." isagi spoke, placing his hands on her waist as he drags her to sit back down. in which y/n blushes at his touch.

"you wanted to know what i was thinking right?" isagi begins to say, eyes trained on hers. "here's what i was thinking. maybe we should stop meeting like this. meeting in secret is stupid. your brother's right, maybe ness is the perfect guy for you. he obviously can provide for you, i'm just a nobody."

"think smart, y/n." he says. "choose him, choose ness." he finishes, extending his hand out to you.

"i'd like to take the other piece of earbud back." he demands.

the earbuds is the only and sole reason why you two understand each other without trying so hard. unbeknownst to isagi, y/n continued learning japanese so one day, she could surprise him.

isagi's eyes widens once more as y/n takes a hold of his hands, pinning them besides his head.

"don't talk like that." he hears y/n say, a serious yet soft expression on her face. "why make me turn on you and choose someone i don't like? i choose you, isagi. and i'll always choose you." y/n says.

"i like you precisely because you continue to strive and improve everyday. i've never liked a person more than you, isagi. back then, i only come here to support my older brother, but now that i get to be this close you, that's all i need. if we could be like this forever, i'll never ask for more."

her words. her words hit home. her words that crept into his heart.

just as y/n is about to lean down and isagi closing his eyes, the two teenagers heard another voice speak to them.

"ahem"

turning their heads to the direction of the voice, it was kaiser, looking at them while leaning by the doorway.

[chronicbeans]

Hi! Since I saw the illustrator wally series I've been exited to request this, it was also sad to see how nobody has yet come with this idea or at least I haven't seen anyone else bring this up so here I come!

It will be interesting how It would work a relationship between Human wally and reader who has maladaptive daydreaming along with autism, I thought of how would it be to meet someone who has to experience something familiar with you. ( since maladaptive daydreaming can be described as a variant of schizophrenia with some small differences ) anyways, I'm a desperate for representation-

ET TU, BRUTE? Omg I maladaptive daydream too (if I am reading it right and you mean to say that you do IT-). My therapist says that I am like, addicted to it lol. My family counselor also likened my case more towards depersonalization/dissociation/a variant of DID due to me only daydreaming myself as other people. This is actually the first time I have heard of it being described as a variant of schizophrenia, but it actually makes a lot of sense, now that I think about it! I need more representation too, so let's do this! I'll try to make it as broad as possible, because everyone daydreams about different things!

Illustrator Wally with an Autistic Reader who Maladaptive Daydreams:

TW: Mentions of Hallucinations, Maladaptive Daydreaming

🖍️ He is a bit confused when he sees you pacing around your living room. He is visiting, and decided to try to surprise you by sneaking up behind you and giving you a gift! Now, though, he is a bit enamored by how you are prancing around, muttering little things to yourself as you seem so carefree and happy in your little world. This is the first time he has seen you like this.

🖍️ You finally end up turning around, in his direction, and your face grows a bit pale from shock and embarrassment. "Uh... Hello... I'm so glad you came to visit!" You try to play it off, but he is too intrigued. Maybe you are like him, and hallucinate, too?

🖍️ You explain what you were doing. You daydream... WAY more often than other people! Intense worldbuilding, character arcs, and more all take place in your head the majority of the day. You like to prance or pace, finding it helpful to feel more comfortable. You also tend to stim in other ways if you cannot pace or prance. The odd facial expressions and mutterings were just you getting in character and reacting to what was happening in your daydreams.

🖍️ Wally is intrigued. It is so... similar, but different, from him. Both you and him are autistic, yes. He's known that for a while, since you told him around the second or third meeting between you two. THIS, though, is so amazing to him. He wants to know more about the stories in your head!

🖍️What do they consist of? Are they horror? Romance? Action? Comedy? He wishes to know. Are you in them? Do you play someone else? Is it from a third person perspective, watching over your creations? If it is something child friendly, maybe you can write a book and he can illustrate it!

🖍️ Even if it is something more... dark, disturbing, overall NOT a kid friendly topic... he would still want to draw it! Maybe he can start to expand his illustrations into more adult books. He is shockingly good at drawing horror, you know. Some of his vent art is a really disturbing treat to view.

🖍️ You might get onto the topic of how both of your conditions are similar and different. You have a lot of characters floating around in your head. Different worlds, stories, everything! Wally does have, in a way, characters, too! The little voices in his head count, right? Sometimes the same one will pop up every now and again. Both of your conditions seem, in a way, uncontrolled. Due to Wally preferring to not use medications, he simply lives with the voices and hallucinations, going to therapy to help him cope and learn to live with it. You just go with the flow, in a way. As far as you've heard, the best and only way to help deal with it is therapy. No real medication or anything.

🖍️ You both are finally happy to find someone similar to yourselves. The best part is that it is similar enough to be familiar, but different enough to have such interesting conversations!